one eye on the sky

i’m in my prime,
not withering and old.
but i refuse to play
your wicked games any longer.

i know this tether is unbreakable,
but you make me feel like i’m interchangeable.
you drew a target on my heart,
when did this become fatal attraction?

i don’t have the strength,
the energy,
nor the patience
to be held hostage by your love.

so baby please don’t despair
when i say that
i’ve found the courage to
let you go.

you were never meant to be tied down in the first place.

—  believing i could love you was my mistake, c.j.n.

Looking at “The Valuable Books”, a series of OCG Yu-Gi-Oh price catalogs! They go all the way up to Arc-V and the modern era. My favorite thing is the cover art ^^

We were talking about poetry,
one winter afternoon,
the sky the same hue as your eyes,
but with the darkness of mine.
You told me, “All poetry is about
sex, God, or death.”
I teased you,
“How could you forget about love?”

You’ve entranced
and transfixed me, my love.
You’re all my poetry
ever talks about.
So let me attempt to learn
from the masters,
I’ll try my hand
at the other topics
that consumed them.

But how can I write about sex
and not write about you?
In my head
there is a map
of your body
and a winding path
that my lips and hands
long to follow.
Your body is a fire
and I’m desperate to burn.

But how can I write about God
and not write about you?
I touch your hand like
I’m turning the pages of a holy book,
but I love you with the fierceness
of a sinner turned devout,
I love you like you’re my last chance
at paradise.
I love you because we know the ugliest
parts of each other,
but we still choose forgiveness
every single day.
Your love is the bookmark I forgot
about from the chapter in my
childhood when I believed
without reservations.
You are the miracle who taught the
atheist to have faith.

But how can I write about death
and not write about you?
If death had come for me
before my lips had brushed yours,
I would have surely walked the earth
as a ghost, unable to move on
because if I have a purpose, a calling,
it must be to love you with
every fragile cell
of my mortal body.
And someday you will die,
and I do not know if I
will still be around to see it,
but of this I am certain:
the earth
will rumble
and rupture
and crack itself open
in its grief,
and the seas will wish
they could drown themselves,
and maybe the sun
will even blow herself out
because how could she
bare to shine
if you were not around to see it?

—  everything comes back to you // L.H
Escape:   the medical school years

“I thought for sure that Japanese whisky was going to take it,” he said, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass. Jamie shot a glance at his friend, looking for his opinion.

“It seemed so, until you waited thirty seconds….then,” John said.

“The Finish,” they both said together, and laughed.

John Grey and Jamie Fraser sat together at an airport bar, ready to go home from the International Whisky Competition.  The two men had been friends for a couple of years, but were vastly different.  One, a good-looking dapper, slender man with blonde hair and the other, a strikingly handsome, tall red-haired man.

“Damn, Fraser, this whisky is marvelous,” John said, taking another sip. “I wasn’t surprised when you won it.”

Jamie nodded, “Dougal will be ecstatic.  It’s been decades since Fraser Distillery has had a win.”  He raised a glass to his friend, “Here’s to you, Lord Grey’s Single Malt, for winning second place!”  They clinked glasses and drank deeply.

“Ah, Jamie,” John said, “it’s been good to see you.” He nudged his friend with his shoulder. “How’s married life?  I’m still somewhat pissed off you didn’t invite me to the wedding.”

Jamie laughed, “There were naught but, what? Fifteen people at my weddin’, John.  Dinna be discouraged.”

“Still.  Would have loved to meet your wife.  Tell me, does she play chess?” John nudged his friend again.

Jamie laughed.  “No.  No she doesna care for it.  She’s currently in medical school, so she doesna do a whole lot of anything but study.”

“Aw,” John said.  “Bloom off the rose already?”  He put his hand on top of Jamie’s.  “Want to talk about it?”

Jamie looked at his friend and laughed.  “Take yer hand off me, or I will kill ye.” 

John laughed and picked up his drink.  “Come on, Fraser.  I need food to sober up for this flight.”  He motioned to the bartender for a menu.  “King’s pawn to king four.”

Jamie laughed and drained his glass.  “Queen’s knight to queen bishop three.”

Alec had been staying upstairs.  Jamie thought it best he be close by. Unbeknownst to Claire, Alec would drop her off at the front door, park the car, and walk up the stairs to her old flat.  He stayed in the one bedroom, needing nothing more than a place to lay his head.  He was sure to be quiet, used the shower only after she’d been dropped at school, and ate his meals out.  He was not in the way of the kitchen renovation being out tending to his daily duties, and Jamie agreed that with the stairs out of commission, Claire would never know.  

On the plane.  See you in the morning.  Everything okay?

Quiet Thursday night, lad.  See you in the morning.  Sàbhailte shiubhlas, mo charaid.

Aye. Mòran taing.  Taing airson h-uile rud.  

A half an hour later the doorbell rang, and Alec couldn’t believe what he heard from the flat downstairs.  He checked the time.  Jamie would already be in flight.  Dammit. Spoke too soon.

The study session began well enough.  He said he was having trouble with Biochemistry, so they started with that.  Claire wasn’t sure if he just didn’t understand the intrinsic nature of metabolism, or if he just didn’t care.  Either way, it was like talking to a brick wall so she suggested they move on to something else.  

He chose Anatomy.
That’s when it got uncomfortable.  The first time he brushed her breast, she moved back from the textbook he was showing her, and got up to get her own.  
The second time was blatant.  That’s when Claire got up, and got his coat.
“I’m tired, Robert.  As I said, two hours.  I’m sorry, but I’ve got to call it a night.”   
Horrocks slowly closed his book, and gathered up his notes.  He moved at a snail’s pace that was getting on Claire’s nerves.  She dropped the coat on the kitchen counter and gathered up their refreshment dishes to rinse them. Perhaps if she started to clean up he’d move a little faster.

She jumped in shock, the glasses shattering in the sink when she felt his hands slide over her hips.
Once again, before she realized what she was doing, her palm was stinging from the slap.  When she looked at him, his tongue was working over a small cut on the side of his lip.  Her wedding ring must have caught him.  Good.

“You goddamn, bloody bastard,” she hissed.  “Get the fuck out of my house.”
Horrocks pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, then pulled it away to glance at the drop of bright red blood.  She was pinned against the counter and he wouldn’t move.  He looked her up and down.  “Come on, Claire.  We both know why you let me in tonight.”
“Wha- what???” Claire sputtered in disbelief.  “I’m married!”  Was he insane? 
He shrugged, and laughed.  “So?”  
“Leave.  Now.”  She hardened her voice, even though she was shaking.  

Fear.  Panic.  

He was big.  Not as big as Jamie, but big.  He was stronger than her, for sure. Her mind whirled frantically.  What was behind her she could use?  What could she reach for?

The blast of cold air surprised them both.  They turned toward the source in unison.  

Alec.  On the fire escape.

He casually climbed through the window as if it was the most natural thing in the world to enter a flat that way.  

“I suggest ye go now.  As the lady requested.”  

Horrocks studied the interferer for a long minute.  He didn’t seem as old as he looked after all.  Various scenarios flashed through his mind.  He could take him, but Claire was angry, and wired.  In the stramash, it would be two against one. She was feisty, and she’d not stand idle if he tried to get rid of the Old Man. Measuring his options, he decided it was best to retreat, and lay more groundwork. The thought of her struggling underneath him made him hard, but there were too many variables right now.  

So he stepped back, grabbed his coat and went to gather his books.  

Claire picked up his backpack and threw it at him.  “Don’t forget this,” she said.

They all froze when the small, ivory handled brush flew out of the bag and rolled across the floor.  

Claire gasped.  Uncle Lamb’s shaving brush. The brush I gave Jamie as a wedding gift.  She looked at Alec with such shock that it galvanized him into action.  He moved like lightening for an older man.  In one smooth motion he grabbed Horrocks by the hair, knocked his feet out from under him again, and dragged him to the door.  

Startled, Horrocks’ feet scrabbled against the hardwood floor as he tried to stand, yet wrestle the grip from his head.  

Horrocks’ head hit the door frame as Alec flipped the handle, kicked it wider, and threw the younger man out.  While Horrocks stumbled to his feet, Alec was through the door and all Claire saw as it bounced on its hinge and began to swing closed was Alec’s mighty shove and Robert going head first down the stairs.  

Alec stomped back in, grabbed the textbooks and papers and sent them the way of the body.  He grabbed the backpack, searched its contents for more, and threw it, too.

Entering the flat, he pushed the door closed, hard, with two hands, dead bolted it, affixed the chain, and turned to look at Claire.  

The room was awash in frozen air.  Claire was deathly white, and shaking.  He could hear her teeth chattering. 

“Come on, Lass,” he said gently, moving to close the window.  “Let’s have a wee dram, eh?”

When the bastard opened the door, it took him a good three minutes to notice him in the chair.  Even though his face remained the same, he flinched just a bit in the act of taking off his jacket before continuing.  Jamie took pleasure in noticing a stiffness in the man’s movements.  The bruises may have faded from his face and neck, but there were clearly new injuries.  Perhaps from a fall down the stairs… 

“Making yourself comfortable?”  Horrocks sounded much less bothered than he seemed.  Jamie could tell it rattled him a bit to find him in his flat.  “I was wondering when you’d seek me out.”  

“We’ve a lot to talk about.”  Jamie said, voice tight.  

“Not as fine a place as you have, Fraser.  But it’s what I can afford.”  Horrocks spread his arms as if he were showing off a palace. “One day, though, I’ll have what you have.”  He set his coat down on the chair.  “She’s bonny.  Claire. They talk about the luck of the Irish, but you!”  He wagged a finger at Jamie as if this was just some sort of locker room talk.  “You, Jamie Fraser, are the lucky one.” 

Jamie stood up, slowly.  “Ye come to my house, touch my wife, and think ye dinna have to answer for that?”

“Yeah, mate, well, there’s no way to prove that, now is there?  Maybe I was just helping clean up, you know?”  Horrocks smirked.

Jamie took a slow, deep breath.  His control was slipping.  Then the snake spoke again. 

“But here’s the thing, Fraser.  This university is good and all, but it’s not really working for me.  I might be persuaded to study elsewhere, but…” he paused, drawing out the moment.  “There would be the matter of money.  Expenses. Maybe you’d be willing to help with that.”

Jamie nodded, and released a small smile.  Extortion.  How surprising.

“You put up some money now, and I swear, you’ll not see my face again.” Horrocks stared at Jamie.  Waiting.  As much as he’d always regret not sampling Claire, this was fast becoming not worth it.  

Stormy, sky blue eyes met frozen, icy ones.  

Horrocks could feel the hate emanating from Jamie in waves.  Fraser was big. Very big.  Need to pick women with smaller husbands next time, he thought.  In his distraction he missed Jamie’s expression change.  In three strides the Highlander had reached his bookshelf and pulled off an artifact.

The sgian-dubh he’d lifted the last time he was there.  Dammit.  Meant to sell that by now.  

Jamie held the weight of the dirk in his hand.  This was his first Christmas gift from Claire.  It meant the world to him.  It had only ever been handed from her hand to his.  No one else had touched it.  No one knew that she’d inscribed his initials on the tang.  

Until now.  

To find that this… this….scum of the earth had taken it was too much. 

Slowly, he drew the small dirk from its scabbard.  

He hesitated too long.  By the time Jamie turned around, Horrocks was ready.

He swung at Jamie, and managed to connect so that the knife caught him in the throat just above the collarbone as he brought his arms up in a defensive move.  The sharp sting made him hiss in his breath, and only managed to enrage Jamie more. 

The noise started as a growl low in Jamie’s throat and escalated into an all out battle shriek, as he threw himself at Horrocks and they fell, hard, on the floor.   

“Ye know what this is?”  Jamie was inches from Horrocks’ face, sgian-dubh pressed deeply into his shoulder.  Jamie could see the blood start to bloom across the man’s shirt.  “It’s the supraspinatus tendon.  Yer rotator cuff.  If I cut this yer arm will flop from yer shoulder and ye’ll feel a pain like ye’ve never known.” 

Horrocks’ eyes grew wide.  Looking at Fraser, he didn’t doubt it for a minute. He tried to struggle but every time he moved the point of the dirk dug in a little further.   

“Or maybe ye have known.” Jamie continued.  “The pain of never being good enough. Not worthy enough.  Never measuring up to any standards, even the lowest ones.  You,” he enunciated, as he pressed the dirk deeper, “fucked with the wrong man.”

“Ye tried to take my wife.  My Claire.  My life’s blood.”  Jamie’s voice rose with every word until he was roaring in Horrocks’ face.  Spit flew from his mouth as he grew impassioned in his hatred for this man, and the fear he caused in Jamie’s soul.  He shook, his anger palpable.  Horrocks could feel the tremours coursing through Jamie’s body while he was pinned to the floor.  

“Ye dared to try and soil her beautiful body with yer disgusting, filthy hands.  Do ye know how unworthy ye are of her?  I could damn yer soul to hell right now and run ye through.”  Another slight push, and more pain. 

Jamie’s hand forced Horrocks’ jaw up so he was looking at him. His face in a vice grip, Robert squinted through the agony to find a smile on Fraser’s face.   

“So,” Jamie said, as if in casual conversation, “Such a shame ye’ll be withdrawin’ from the university now, isn’t it?”


requested by: anonymous | gif

“And that one?” 


“What about that one?”

Cas watched as your eyes flitted over the stars in the sky, admiring the way the moonlight danced over your face, illuminating your smile, “Lacerta.”

You let out a content sigh and turned to face him. The two of you were on a blanket he had laid out in the middle of a field. You were wearing your pajamas which consisted of a pair of flannel pants and one of Sam’s old Stanford sweatshirts. Cas liked it better when you were like this, with your hair messy and your face and eyes sans cosmetics. He never thought that they were necessary. 

He realized he was probably staring too much when you blushed and shifted a little, ducking your head down, “What?” you murmured.

“Nothing,” he said, but you didn’t seem convinced. Using two fingers to lift up your chin, Cas met your eyes and whispered, “I find you extremely beautiful, Y/N, and right now, you look radiant.”

Your cheeks darkened and your warm hand came up to wrap around his wrist. Cas slid his hand up to cup your jaw and bring you in for a soft kiss, your lips parting slightly when he pulled away, “You’re a real charmer, you know that, Cas?”

His lips tilted up into a crooked smile, and you copied his expression while moving closer. Cas brought your lips together in another simple kiss and you sighed against his mouth, finally bringing your body closer enough to press against his. You were warm and soft beside him, and he swallowed another sigh when he brushed his fingers through your hair and cupped the back of your head. The kiss was simple, not meant to go anywhere, and yet he felt every emotion you were trying to get across as you gripped the front of his shirt while another hand ran down his side. 

When the need for air became necessary, you pulled away and leaned your forehead against his. He loved the way you smiled when he nudged your nose with his own, and he couldn’t help but return it. You licked your lips and met his eyes, wide and full of an adoration he hoped he was reciprocating.

Cas was struck yet again by how beautiful you looked right then, and in that moment in time saying, “I love you,” was impossibly simple. 

“Stars,” she whispered. “I can see the stars again, my lady.”
A tear trickled down Artemis’s cheek. “Yes my brave one. They are beautiful tonight.”
“Stars,” Zoë repeated. Her eyes fixed on the night sky. And she did not move again.
-The Titans curse (page 278)

Stood Up At The Dance

Submitted by:

Length: Short

Under pink and red hearts, dolled-up girls danced with their lovers. Loud music thundered through the densely packed cafeteria and drowned out laughter, conversations, and yelling. A typical Valentine’s Day dance at a high school.

I was not taking part in the fun, though. All of my attention was focused on the lone girl who sat at one of the tables. Sky blue eyes scanned the crowd. A strand of blond hair twirled between fingers. Her name was Eve and she was the cutest girl I had ever seen. And my best friend.

I loved her. Always had, since we first met in middle school. I never told her my feelings because I knew that our friendship would be over. I wanted to be closer to her. To pull her fragile, curved body against mine.

“Hey, Bud.” I greeted her. She looked up at me and I could see the color of her eyes shifting. 

“Hi.” She answered, a frown on her face.

“Where’s your date?”

“Didn’t show up.”

My heart pinged when I heard those three words, beating and singing. Now was my chance. Now, she would be mine. All mine.

“Aw, I’m sorry.” I said, sitting down beside her. I tried to ignore the feeling of her bare legs brushing against my own. They were soft. I wanted to smile but, I couldn’t. Not in that situation.

“Don’t be. He probably asked me out as a joke.” Her head fell into her hands and she began to sob. The sound broke my heart into infinite fragments of self-hatred and anger. A fire boiled in my chest. Rising up.

I clenched my fists, then released them. Regain your composure. I took her hands in my own. “Hey, do you wanna go home? I’ll drive. Whatcha say?”

She glanced over to me and rubbed away running mascara on her sleeve. And she smiled. And I smiled back. Connection.

“Yeah.” She said as we both stood up, her head on my shoulders. We walked away from the table. Together. 

I smiled even wider when I felt the weight in my purse. The box-cutter and ruined clothes I had arrived with. The boy wouldn’t bother us anymore. Not with a slit throat, anyway. Not with his blood covering every inch of a stall in the boy’s restroom.

I wrapped her hands tighter around her hips, pulling her close.

“You’re a good friend, Marcy.” She said as we went out the front doors and into the parking lot.

Credits to:

jungjae-art  asked:

Klance no. 6 :D

And the next one! Hope you like it sweetie! <3

6) things you said under the stars and in the grass (I didn’t mentioned the grass ups) 


Keith hums and that’s enough for Lance to turns his head towards him.

He doesn’t acknowledges him, at least not yet. He lets Lance’s eyes stay on him as his own dark blue ones stare at the sky filled with stars above them.

He takes a few minutes, gathering his thoughts with the comforting feeling of Lance soft thump rubbing the top of his hand. He relish the feeling because after what he plans to say he doesn’t know if he will ever get back this moment.

Keith bites the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath and then turns his head towards Lance, ignoring the way his heart skips a beat when he meets a pair of baby blue eyes staring intensely at him.

“‘ello.” Lance says, smiling playfully at him and Keith can’t help but smile back at him.


“You okay?” Lance asks, moving closer to him with a concerned frown and Keith blushes slightly.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, trailing off for a second before he speaks up again, “I just have a lot in my mind.”

“Okay.” Lance says softly, bringing their intertwined hands to his lips and dropping a kiss on Keith’s, “I’m all ears.”

Keith opens his mouth but then closes soon after. He whines in frustration, dropping his head backwards and wincing when the hit pains him a little more than expected.

“Woah, Keith, easy there.” Lance says, pushing himself forward and sitting up enough to hover above Keith, “You okay? Now I know there’s definitely something wrong.”

“I’m scared.” Keith blurts out, his face getting hotter when Lance’s eyes widen in surprise. “I’m so so scared, Lance.”

The brunet frowns in concern and then reaches out to Keith with his free hand, caressing his cheek lovingly.

“Why?” He asks quietly and Keith sighs.

“Because I love you.” Keith whispers, voice small and vulnerable, “I love you so so much and I’m so scared of losing. Of you realizing that maybe I’m not what you expected. Of you rejecting me. I’m scared I might lose you to this war or to life in general.”

Keith sighs helplessly, “I’m so scared to kiss you but I want to do it so bad.”

Lance stares and stares, his blue eyes widening further at each word that comes out of Keith’s mouth before he’s gaping incredulously at the teen below him. Wondering where this is all coming from, how can he reassure this beautiful person that he’s here to stay, that he’s here to love him with every fiber in him.

“Why are you so afraid though? Why would kissing me be so bad?” He asks softly instead and Keith gulps.

“Because if I do,”Keith whispers, eyes firmly on Lance’s as he speaks, “If I do, I don’t think I would ever stop.”

Lance breath hitches but then he’s smiling brightly.

“And I wouldn’t want you to.”

Just a reminder that Alex Hirsch knew/knows all about Dark Lords and Eldritch Horrors, and that he paid homage to Great Predecessor Terrors that influenced his own Masterpiece of Evil.


What A Feeling To Be A King Beside You by itsprobablylarry

Harry is the Prince of Wales and Louis is the Duke of Wellington. They fall in love.

Wear It Like A Crown by zarah5

As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis’ teenage fantasies.

Sail Across Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they’re as pretty as this one.

feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream by togetherwecouldbealright

Harry is a journalist with a lot of secrets and Louis is the future king of the United Kingdom; they live together for 60 days.

Because You Saw Me When I Was Invisible by supernope

A (not so) loosely-based Princess Diaries AU, in which Harry finds out he’s the heir to the throne of a country he’s never even heard of.

Celebrity Discount by LoadedGunn

Where Harry’s an openly bisexual prince, Louis is a closeted, famous boy-bander, Zayn mocks everyone and everything, Liam could do with less naked boys on this tour, and Niall might or might not be an Irish lord.

The Stars In Your Eyes Light Up The Sky by andthensusays

The one where Harry is a prince forced out of the closet and Louis is a boybander forced in. When they meet, everything changes.

Swim In The Smoke by whoknows

Harry is a pirate and Louis is the prince of England who ends up hostage on his ship. A/B/O

And I’ll judge the cover by the book by harrystylesandstuff

Private University AU where Harry is a queer posh prince, Louis is a closeted troublemaker, and neither expect to understand each other the way they will.

long hair don’t care by ballsdeepinjesus

harry is sheltered and louis is a thief. or, a tangled au.

amistillfeeling  asked:

“you’re mine, and i don’t share” being said by Raven, protecting/jealous Raven~

One jealous Rae Rae coming up!

Manipulative bitch.

She’d been tossed around, insulted, made to look the fool for the last time that day. 

She’d never been more angry, more volatile. 

Then, as if to add insult to injury, the evil woman found another way to crawl under her skin.

“What’s the matter, Rae-Rae? Can’t handle me? Or do you just hate seeing your green gremlin of a boyfriend ignoring you?” She sneered in the distance.

Raven stood up on unsteady legs, trying to control her rage before it consumed her. 

“Damn it, Beast Boy,” she seethed through gritted teeth, wobbling forward towards her adversary. 

He wanted to be a celebrity, he said.

He wanted the hot, blonde, bombshell girlfriends. 

She had warned him. 

Nothing good ever came from such gluttony. 

Now here she was, being battered by a space alien witch that looked like she had crawled out of those horror sci-fi movies themselves.

And for what?

Well, his life, of course. 

The fool had gone off and become enthralled by her wiles and ways and magic, as the alien had shapeshifted into Beast Boy’s ideal girlfriend. Now, he was seconds away from becoming alien fodder only to later be regurgitated in space, unless Raven severed the tentacle that held him, and slayed the ruthless witch that had tricked him so easily.

“I’m going to end you if you so much as try to hurt him,” a battered and bruised empath growled under her breath, her hair falling before her eyes. 

The amusement and sarcasm in the witch’s tone was unsympathetic. “How fickle and shallow the object of your affections truly is; never knowing you, never seeing you. Poor, sweet girl. He’ll never love the likes of you, for who could ever love something so hideous?” She mocked her, cackling at her sad misfortune in the most insincere tone.

Tears burned the backs of Raven’s eyes despite herself, stinging. Her throat, parched, was aching, her fingers like claws digging into her palms. 

She hated how much her words hurt.

Hated how true they were…

For how long had she loved him from afar?

For how long was she always second fiddle to the normal girls? The ones with flaxen hair and eyes the colour of the summer sky. 

Shutup! Just shutup!” She yelled, clutching at her head as anger and hurt and sadness overwhelmed her.

“Never going to be good enough…always meant to be alone…” 

Beast Boy’s verdant eyes remained glazed over, his head lolling from side to side in the witch’s slimy clutches. He was under her spell, long gone to this world, and perhaps that was for the best.

For in that moment, Raven’s more unpredictable emotions won out, and two ugly horns began to protrude from beneath her skin on her forehead. She grimaced in pain as they grew in size, seemingly ripping her flesh like sharp, pointed bones. 

The empath’s pale skin slowly changed into a striking shade of crimson, and the strands of her obsidian hair faded into a glowing, moonlight white. 

Anger; it pulsed beneath her flesh, burning hot and searing her vision. Her eyes, now four of them, flashed yellow as waves of power coursed through her. Once she’d tapped into rage’s manifestation, there was nothing that could stop her.

The world was hers for the taking. 

Raven had to smirk with a cocky satisfaction at the the brief look of fear in the face of the predator before her. Then, in an ethereal voice, echoed by one that was not hers, Raven cocked her head to the side, and said, “He’s mine, and I don’t share.”