*** I plan to do a lot with this one 😏😏 First part***

“So it just stopped working?” “Yeah. I woke up last night and I was sweating so went and checked the thermostat and it was at 80.” Opie winced and shook his head, messing with the pipe again. “You’re staying at the clubhouse tonight. I don’t want you staying here when it’s this hot.” “I could just use the portable fan.” “You’re going to the clubhouse.” You relented and nodded with a laugh. “Fine. Let me go pack.” Opie nodded and followed you back into the house, sitting on your bed while you began to stick clothes in a bag.

“We’re having a party tonight, nothing too big but it’ll be fun. Haven’t hung out with you in a while.” “No we haven’t. Feels like it’s been forever. Just SAMCRO?” “Just SAMCRO.” Opie looked over at you to ask him if you wanted to go on a ride with him later tonight but happened to look right as you were pulling a pink pair of panties from the drawer you had open. He looked away quickly, half out of privacy and half out of not wanting to get his mind thinking about you wearing them. He liked you, a lot. At times he thought he might love you. You’d been in Charming for almost a year now and he’d felt something for you from the first conversation he’d had with you which had only gotten stronger.

You were sweet, you were smart, you were loyal and you were beautiful. He’d known that last one since the beginning but everyday it came through a little more than the last. Problem was, he wasn’t the only one that had it for you. Jax was right along side him, though the two never spoke about it out loud. You’d known Jax longer and his confident, sometimes cocky attitude had gotten him closer to you than Opie had. Your relationship with Opie was sometimes more serious though. You told him more, told him secrets. Jax and you were more playful and teasing but you still trusted them both equally. They both had a lot in common but their attraction to you was one you didn’t know about.

Coming out of the bathroom with your lotion and perfume, you finished packing your bag, and turned around to Opie smiling. “Ok. Ready.” He returned the smile and stood, holding his hand out for you to give him your bag. “I can carry it.” “I know you can.” Taking the bag from you anyway, he motioned to the door. “Ladies first.”


“Hey darlin’.” You turned your head as you felt a hand on your back and heard Jax’s voice. He came around you and sat on the bar stool to your right. “Hey troublemaker.” He smirked and reached for your beer, taking a swig. “You’re here early. Wanted to get a head start for the party?” You shook your head and took your beer back from his hand. “Not exactly. My air stopped working so Opie told me to stay here.” Jax’s smirk disappeared and he nodded.

“Yeah. No sense in you staying over there melting when we got room here.” You nodded and Jax stared down at the bar top. “Whose dorm are you staying in?” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured I’d stay in Opie’s.” “No you can stay with me.” You looked up at his sharper tone and he smiled quickly before he snatched your beer back out of your hand, chugging the rest of it. “Well since we’ve got like 3 hours till the party, how about we go for a ride real quick. I’ll bring you back so you have time to get ready.” You nodded excitedly. You’d never even seen a motorcycle up close until you’d become friends with them and you’d quickly learned that riding through the warm California sun was one of your favorite things and both men had quickly picked up on that.

You both stood from the bar and walked outside towards Jax’s bike just as you were securing your helmet, Opie pulled up and he wasn’t happy to see you pressed against Jax’s back, or in his bike. “Where you going?” Jax answered before you had the chance. “I’m taking her for a ride before the party. It’s nice out.” You smiled and nodded at Opie, totally missing the silent conversation that was had between the Sons. Opie nodded, his face tight. “Have fun.” He pulled off his own helmet and stalked towards the clubhouse, you looking at Jax with a small frown. “Is he ok?” “He’s fine. You ready?” You nodded and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jax nodded and smirked to himself. You’d be his.

Guiding lights

Her Papa had told her a whole three days ago that her Mama had been in an accident, a ‘not so good’ one, he had told her, brushing her hair away from her face, curls messy from spending the day at the park. She had huffed and puffed, saying she wanted her Mama, that she needed to see her even if she was as different as everybody was saying. It didn’t matter to her, why would it? Her Mama was still that, her Mama and she had just as much right to see her (she had explained, with a stomp of her foot) as anybody else. 

Her Papa had finally relented, so here she was, day three bouncing through the halls of the hospital because she had never spent this long away from the women who had given birth to her. “Papa hurry up!” She groaned, because no matter how much she pulled, he continued to walk at his normal pace. 

“Mama? Mama!” Rose let go of his hand, sprinting forward because she would know the back of that hair anywhere.


@ the gravity falls fandom: pls chill about Stan not wanting to save Ford, because honestly, he probably does want to save him. 

Let me explain. 

Stan is cynical. He’s a pessimist. He’s frankly a cranky old man who’s literally the embodiment of the “get odd my lawn” stereotype. However, underneath all that is a heart of gold. He’s not a bad guy - he just pretends to be one. You have to get under all the gruffness, though, if you really want to see that. Even then, he’ll put up walls and fall back into his harsh ways. It’s just within his character. 

Remember back to A Tale of Two Stans when he and Ford were physically fighting. He punched and pushed and kicked and basically just went wild. He was fucking pissed at Ford. However, just as he pushed Ford into the portal, and he started floating, Stan relented. He stopped. He became concerned. He knew it had gone too far, and was ready to save Ford, even if he had been beating the shit out of him the moment before. Because Stan does care, he just doesn’t always show it, especially when he’s been hurt or made angry. But when he does show he cares, it’s when it matters.

Stan is still hurt by Ford. He’s still angry at him. He’s putting up a front of not caring because that’s just how he is. However, he’s also ready to forgive Ford, because that’s just how he is too - he’s a forgiving person with a weakness for family and people he loves. He just doesn’t want to admit that to himself. He doesn’t want to forgive Ford, he wants to stay made at him, and the only way to do that is to deny that he cares about him. 

When the finale does finally come around, I’m sure we’ll see Stan have a change of heart. He does care about his brother, and I’m sure if he were ever in a situation where Ford was in immediate danger, there would be no stopping Stan in his attempts to save him. 

So, anyways, please chill.

lastknightofren asked:

“you’re hogging the blankets!”

Rey didn’t relent at Ben’s whining, instead tucking the corner of the said blanket and rolling over completely so it wound around her.

“ And you are hogging the bed.”

Of course she knew it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help the size of his body in comparison to her small bed, and she had been the one to ask him to stay the night.

She remained still for a moment before pushing herself into a sitting position, unwrapping herself from the blanket before standing on her bed, stretching the blanket over the bed properly, her fingers coming to tuck the blankets end gently beneath Bens feet that nearly hung off of the edge comically.

It didn’t take her long before she too took up her original space on the bed, shifting over in the slightest .

“ Better? ”


I am of healing blood, of rain,
Of windswept tears and heather air, 
As lithe and innocent as feathers!
I am the trust that still remains 
In every wish - a pang of faith, 
Forever brave, forever bare
To every game that spurs the weather. 
I am a martyr without dying -
A supernova’s sacrifice,
The vital bells, small and precise -
A heart forever beating, crying
A verse of power beyond despair -
Potential that can’t be severed,
Too tender and too fond of flying
To know how to relent! I dare
To know the cosmos we revere, 
To love like voids, blades, pens, I swear -
For I am life and deep decorum -
Of certain nerve, of healing tears!

Dean/Cas: Hopefully Next Year

My fix-it for 11.13 “Love Hurts.”

“So, who was it? Bach or Simpson?”

For a moment, there’s only silence, after which Dean says “Neither,” prompting Sam to look up. He isn’t sure whether Dean will tell him, tension and uncertainty in those pained, green eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh, Dean finally relents.

“It was Cas.”

Sam raises an eyebrow though not out of shock. Surprised that Dean confided, yes, but he’d expected the name. Who else could it be?

“Are you surprised?” he hedges gently.

Dean squares his shoulders at that. Defensive. Sam doesn’t miss the tick in his jaw. “That it was Cas? Hell yes, I’m… I’m-” He turns away, stares resolutely at the wall, and Sam is sympathetic. “Dean. Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s-” Dean clenches his fists, mutters under his breath, “I’m not good for him, Sam. I’m bad news.”

Sam feels his heart break, for his brother and for Cas, the bond between them. Tenacious and fragile, tested and strained again and again. But also hopeful - the brightest part of Dean - a part that Sam wants to help to preserve.

“Don’t you think he should be the judge of that?”

Dean ducks his head and lets out one hollow, rueful laugh. “Yeah, trust Cas to make the best choices for himself.”

“No one’s accusing you of doing that either.”

Dean’s mouth twitches upward. “Ouch. Touché.”

Sam releases the breath he was holding as the tension seeps out of the room. It doesn’t escape his notice that Dean’s hand slips into his jacket pocket, running his fingers over his cell while the should I and shouldn’t I war in his mind.

Dean is restless on the drive back home, right knee bouncing like a little kid and barely saying a word till they stop for gas. He tries to leave the car for snacks but fumbles with his seatbelt, flushed in frustration, and it’s honestly so difficult to watch that Sam says “Call him” and steps out himself.

He spends some extra time going up and down the aisles, sneaking occasional glances out the window where he sees Dean lean back against Baby. He’s got his phone up by his ear, though with his back toward Sam, Sam can’t tell if he’s talking. He grabs a water and a Coke from the cooler and decides to browse the tiny Gas-n-Sip one final time - or two.

“How’d it go?” he asks a bit later, sipping his water and watching amusedly as the deep, deep pink dusts across Dean’s cheeks. 

“I mean, whatever, I just… said I’d see him at the bunker. You got everything?” Dean clears his throat.

Sam laughs, shaking his head. It’s still progress. Baby steps. “How’s he doing?” he asks instead while Dean starts the car and pulls out of the lot.

“Okay, I think. Researching, mostly.” Dean frowns. “Although- I dunno, Sammy, something’s up. He… I might just need some sleep, but, he sounds off.”


“Yeah,” Dean seems nervous, tightening the grip he’s got on the wheel. “It’s not just the voice, I- Something’s goin’ on… I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Sam nods, all remnants of teasing gone from his demeanor at the look on Dean’s face. “We’ll figure it out, once we’re back at the bunker. It’s probably nothing. We’ll figure it out.”

In the war room, Lucifer smiles, reading Dean’s text on Castiel’s phone, sent just minutes after their call.

‘Hopefully next Valentine’s, we’ll be case-free,’ it says.

“Oh, how sweet. Right, little brother? Looks like your hunter finally manned up.”

Inside, upon hearing this, the other angel closes his eyes. He commits Dean’s message to memory, whispers to no one, ‘I hope so too.’

“Who is your favorite hero?”


Leia, who, while being born a princess, sided with the underdogs and constantly risked her life for what she believed in.

Leia, who watched as her entire planet burned and vanished in the span of an exhale, and still found the strength to go on.

Leia, who stood toe to toe with two of the most feared men in the galaxy and refused to relent. 

Leia, who rescued both Luke and Han; who freed herself from the chains she was bound in; who survived torture and imprisonment and heartbreak, and still never gave up.

Leia is my favorite hero.

  • Bruce Wayne:Her home doesn’t feel safe anymore. If someone broke into your apartment, and you weren’t vigilantes, wouldn’t you be scared?
  • Tim Drake [sighs, relents]:Yes.
  • Jason Todd:Depends. How many guns do I still have hidden?
  • Bruce Wayne [blanches]:None.
  • Jason Todd:Do I still have my knife? Nunchuks? Axe?
  • Bruce Wayne:It was a hypothetical question.
  • Jason Todd:I know, but I want to play it out. Do I still have my throwing stars?
  • Tim Drake:This has taken a strange turn.
  • Jason Todd:Fine. I’d be scared. We’re on it. [mutters] What kind of person doesn’t have an axe?

-Luke and Leia going to live with Vader and being total Empire brats bc they have servants and fancy clothes and food and everything they could possibly ever need or want for

-Vader fighting not to smile beneath his mask when Leia uses Anakin’s trademark sass, but relents eventually, nobody can see it anyway.

-The first time Vader tells the twins he loves them they latch onto him, not caring that the metal buttons on his suit are digging into their sides. this is the first genuine human contact he’s had in years. 

-The first time Leia cries over a boy, Vader threatens to blow up his home planet


“Before the war I was a used car dealer living in a suburb of Damascus. I had a good life. But when the revolution started the government forces besieged my neighbourhood and for a month we were cut off from all supplies, including food. One day while I was driving I was stopped by government forces who noticed from my identification card that I was from Daraa, the city where the revolution had first started. They immediately handcuffed and blindfolded me. I was taken to a prison one hundred steps underground. They took my clothes and left me in a room no larger than my house in which 600 men, all standing, were crammed. I was chained and tortured with whips, interrogated and verbally abused. When I passed out they poured water on me to keep me conscious so that they could continue the torture. Three to four guys died every day from this abuse. Some went completely mad. After ten days the abuse relented but even then I couldn’t sleep because I could still hear other prisoners being tortured nearby. Four months later my family had to pay a large bribe, 1.5 million SYP, to secure my release.
When I returned home from prison I couldn’t recognize anybody, not even my family. I consulted a psychologist and was diagnosed with a serious psychological condition for which I have been taking medication ever since. Gradually I began to heal. But in the meantime the siege of my neighbourhood intensified and my family decided to move to my hometown of Busra and from there to Jordan. On the way, I had to carry my elderly blind mother on a stretcher across the border. When we arrived at the newly-established Zaatari refugee camp it was nothing but bare desert land; no water, no sanitation, no tents. A year later we received a call from the UNHCR saying that Canada would welcome us as refugees. After years of suffering we finally arrived in Canada where we are very happy with the welcome from the government and the people. My plans for the immediate future are to start English language courses with my wife and to send my children to school.”
Credit: Alex Garcia-Nguyen

colonelrogers asked:

okay but lets be honest, the biggest fight Steve and Tony have had (Asides from who gets the TV remote) is the tussle they have in bed for the blanket. Tony likes to curl up and become a blanket burrito while Steve likes to just tug it his way and have extra space, so it just ends up being a tug-of-war between who gets the blanket when they're cold


Their solution is this: Tony pouts for a bit and then Steve feels bad because his boyfriend is now cold AND pouting and that will just not do. He tugs on Tony’s arm and puts on his best puppy dog expression, until Tony relents and crawls into his lap, nestling into Steve’s arms and tucking his face into Steve’s neck. Then Steve wraps them both in the blanket, making them both into one Ultimate Supreme Blanket Burrito, and then they spend their Saturday mornings all snuggled up like that, just enjoying each other’s company.



“Are you sure about this? I don’t wanna get jumped by a bunch of bikers.” You laughed and shook your head. “You’ll be fine, trust me. I won’t let him touch you. I’m just trying to prove a point.” Your friend nodded half heartedly, really not liking the idea but relenting, for you. You’d asked him if he would be willing to come to a club party with you to make Chibs jealous. You and him clearly had something going on and it was obvious that you wanted to be together, but every time you started getting closer to him, he would pull away. You knew it was because he didn’t want to go against his President’s wishes and get with his baby sister but you found yourself lately wondering if he really did like you or if he was just being polite. So you’d formulated this plan.

Your friend would go with you to this party tonight, where Chibs would be, and you would do what you could to make him jealous. Your hope was that he would get pissed and have some type of reaction to show that he still liked you. You weren’t actually with your friend of course, but you were close enough that you trusted him to pretend to be with you and be affectionate to play it up for Chibs. He was just scared of Chibs wanting to fight but you promised him that you wouldn’t allow that to happen. Once Chibs showed interest, you would explain. Until then, you were going to have a new ‘boyfriend’ for the party tonight.


“Looks like Y/N got a boyfriend.” Chibs stopped laughing and looked away from Juice, towards Tig’s voice. “What do you mean?” “She came with some guy. They’ve been together all night.” Chibs looked around and found you seated on a couch across the way, a guy beside you. Your legs were crossed and he has a hand resting on your thigh. Chibs felt his jealousy begin to rise. He’d been flirting with you for weeks now and he’d thought you two had something going on. He admitted, he’d been the one being distant and holding back but he was only doing it of respect for your brother. Jax had said way in the beginning once you’d become of age that you were off limits. Period.

Luck hadn’t been on his side though and he’d ended up falling for you. You’d both seemed to fall for each other but he had more to lose than you did and so he’d pulled away. That didn’t mean he didn’t care for you though and it sure as hell didn’t mean that he’d lost interest, so to see you at a club party, all cuddled up close with a guy that wasn’t him had his pressure rising.

He stared at you for a bit hoping to catch your eye but you were too caught up in paying attention to whatever the guy was saying to you. Chibs felt his mood shift and he forgot about his conversation with Juice, focusing on you now. You continued to laugh and talk with him, looking down as he leaned over and pressed his mouth to your ear, whispering to you. Chibs watched as you blushed at whatever he said and bit your lip, his hand moving higher on your thigh.

Before Chibs knew what he was doing, he’d stood and his legs were carrying him over to where the two of you were. He stopped in front of you and you both looked up. “Hey Chibs.” Your smile was unrequited and he reached down, grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling you to stand before crushing his lips against yours. He kissed you with passion and anger,taking your breath away. He pulled away and gruffly whispered to you. “I don’t know what kind of shite you’ve got going on but it ends now. You’re mine.”

A smile spread across your face. “I thought you wanted to obey Jax.” “I’ll deal with him later.” He glared at you for a couple more seconds before turning and pointing at your 'boyfriend’. “Leave.” Your friend nodded and smiled, mainly at you. “Good luck.” He walked off and exited the clubhouse, leaving you with a very annoyed and confused Chibs.

“What was that?” You laughed and placed your hands on his chest, playing with the hem of his cut. “I thought you might’ve lost interest in me. You don’t really talk to me or anything anymore. Figured I would see if you still liked me.” He blew out a breathe before he chuckled and shook his head at you. “Well I do.” You nodded with a smirk. “Good.”

gray-autumn-sky asked:

#10. Dimples Queen (bonus points for it also featuring a bit of Outlaw Queen). The Missing Year. :)

Thank you for the prompt - I hope you like it!

Send me a number and a pair

Tiny hands find purchase on the flat stone bench, accompanied by a knee, then a foot, and finally Roland is standing next to the queen. Her back is straight, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Roland shuffles on his toes, waiting for her to look at him, to cup his chin and squeeze him in a hug until he can giggle no more. He’s about to say her name, his mouth dropping open, when she turns and flashes him a bright smile, reaches out with both hands to tickle his sides.

“R'gina!” He squeaks with laughter, wriggling within her grasp until she relents and allows him to plonk down next to her on the warm stone, sparkling in the summer heat. He still wears his cloak, even with the blistering temperatures, the deep green material flowing like a river behind him when he runs across the grass.

“What brings my little merry man to the gardens?” She asks, her eyes flicking to the sweat soaked hair plastered to his temples. He really should take off that cloak.

Roland looks up at her with big eyes, chocolate coloured like her own and flecked with gold. His head tilts to the side, “Can you keep a secret?”

Regina’s brow furrows, the quickest flash of stables in another life streaming before her eyes. She blinks, tries to not let Roland see her smile falter as she nods her head.
“Of course,” she holds out her hand with her little finger extended, “pinky swear.” It’s something she and Henry used to do - before curses and evil queens entered his world - and the thought has a lump forming in her throat.

“What’s a pinky swear?” Roland clambers to his knees, intrigued by her words and her gesture, pulling her from her memories.

“It’s a special promise. The most sacred of all vows.” Regina takes Roland’s hand from his side and lifts it in line with hers. He closes his fist and leaves out his little finger too, mirroring her. “We link pinkies and your secret is safe with me.” He’s nodding, soaking up every syllable she has to say and it leaves her beaming when he wraps his finger around hers.

“My papa,” he says, a mischievous grin playing on his lips that matches a certain thief’s. There’s a swift tug in her gut at the mention of him and she clears her throat, nods slightly, and draws her lips in a line to keep the corners from turning up. “He likes you.”

She scoffs then, shaking her head as she flicks the hair which had fallen over her shoulder back behind her.

“And where did you find this out?”

“I was sneaking!” He claps his hands together and Regina smiles at how animated his features are when he talks, how much he reminds her of Henry at that age, but she doesn’t let that upset her, not this time. She soaks it in, the memory almost as warm as the sun itself when it wraps around her. “I sneaked into Uncle John’s tent and–and I heard him and papa talking about you.”

Curiosity gets the best of her and she can’t help asking more. “Roland, were you eavesdropping?” Regina isn’t quite sure if she believes this tale, but she’d be lying if she said a small part of her didn’t wish it was true. She tries to keep her tone firm, but her smirk gives her away. He shakes his head and a laugh erupts from him, his small arms wrapping around himself as she pulls him into her lap to pepper his cheeks with kisses.

The next morning he’s walking towards her table in the great hall, the thief clad in his green tunic and brown boots, bow slung casually across his back. She quirks an eyebrow as he pulls the chair out beside her and sits down with the grace and swiftness of his profession. He’s always so smooth, she thinks, so fluid with his motions. A few moments pass in silence as Robin shovels down his breakfast, the clink of fork against platter becoming almost hypnotic while she watches him.

“I gather one of my men has been rather…loose lipped,” he gives her a pointed look, the curve of his lips making her eyes sparkle with mirth, “of late.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, because she made a promise and she will not break it.

“Well,” he begins, lifting his arm to rest his elbow on the wooden tabletop, “I suppose I’ll just have to tell you myself, since you already know.” Regina narrows her eyes at him and he chuckles. How is he always so relaxed? If her heart wasn’t pounding out of her chest, she’d offer him a retort. He extended his little finger, completely oblivious to the glances thrown their way by the packed hall. “But you’ll have to pinky swear not to tell anyone.”

She knew the smile on her face was cracking her evil queen mask. She knew Snow had been listening intently to the whole interaction from two seats away. And she knew that for once, she didn’t care about any of it. She links her finger with his and he leans in close, close enough that she can feel the heat of his breath as he speaks, the air washing over her lips and making a heat rise up her cheeks.

“I like you, Regina.”

His blue eyes are dark, locked with hers. It takes all of her will power to keep her voice steady as she tells him, “good,” that sparkle in her eyes gleaming like the reflection of stars on a still lake. She stands from the table - leaving their bubble - his finger limp as she pulls her hand away from his. Her heels click against the stone floor, her hips swish beneath the satin of her gown and she leaves the hall, content with the knowledge he is well and truly in her palm.

relentings replied to your post: lol okay some of the things that boy said to me (i am not used to getting hit on so it was so awkward i s2g)


I THOUGHT HE WAS HAVING A MAN PERIOD LIKE MIRACULOUSLY BLEEDING OUT OF NO WHERE I HONESTLY GOT SO CONFUSED I WAS LIKE “what” and then after that he said “u can feel it if u want to be sure” and i swear to god today was so weird i cant even askbgreildfkbglifdjknglerifdkjnglrefidk

anonymous asked:

Tsukishima's and Akaashi's s/o is insecure about their beauty marks because they have a lot of them all over their bodies. So the boys kiss each beauty mark while telling them sweet things 8')

I hope this meant freckles, because that’s what I wrote it as. I know “beauty mark” can also just refer to a mole, but with so many, I assumed freckles. I’m sorry if that’s not what you meant! Also, Tsukki’s isn’t so much with words, because I think he’d probably show rather than tell in situations like this. Enjoy!


Tsukki likes to trace them with his tongue. He knows it’s probably a little weird. And it doesn’t happen often. Usually when he thinks you’re asleep. They pepper your shoulders from long summers spent in the sun, and you make it a point of telling him how much you hate them. He listens for your heavy breathing, only relenting when he knows you’re asleep with your back pressed to his chest. He lowers his head and presses a kiss to your shoulder, tongue flicking out against the dark circle of skin. His breath heats your skin as his tongue follows the same path it always does, from one freckle to the next.


The sound of your voice makes him freeze. How long have you been awake? How did he get so lost in you?

“What?” he asks gruffly.

“You… You don’t have to stop.”

He has a moment where he considers rolling over and pretending this didn’t happen. Maybe he’ll be able to convince you that you dreamed it in the morning.

But his tongue returns to your skin, tasting each and every freckle, interspersed with an occasional kiss. Neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. But he doesn’t stop. Not until he falls asleep.


“I hate them,” you whisper, holding one of your freckle-covered arms disdainfully.

Akaashi doesn’t like that. He takes your arms in his hands and presses a delicate kiss to each wrist. When he glances up at you, he can see you biting your lip.

“You know,” he murmurs. “Each one actually represents a reason why I love you.”

“K-Keiji,” you mumble.

“Like this one? It’s because you’re unfathomably kind,” he says as he presses a lingering kiss to your arm. “And this one is because you’re brilliant beyond measure.” Another kiss. “This one is for your selflessness.” Kiss. “And this one is for your tenacity.” Kiss.

“Keiji, that’s… That’s enough,” you try, unable to hide the blush from your cheeks.

“It isn’t enough,” he counters. “You need to know what they all mean. They all have a purpose. And I want you to love them all the way I love them.”

An Attempt To Tip The Scales || Para

Adam Roberts had never wanted a slave. He’d always said that when the time came, he would refuse, and that would be that. But shunning his ‘birthright’ like that would have had severe consequences for him. He had thought himself willing to accept whatever those consequences would be. But upon having them explained in no uncertain terms, he’d finally found himself relenting and agreeing to attend the ridiculous gala at which someone like him was expected to choose a complete stranger, to take as his own personal unwilling sex toy. The event was as contrived as he’d expected it to be; a huge party attended by the well-to-do within the circles he was expected to move in, but it was no more than a glorified cattle market. Adam was uncomfortable in social situations at the best of times, and this was about a million miles past every limit he had.

Deciding that he couldn’t do this after all - no matter the repercussions for him - he’d been more than ready to leave, and was turning to find the door, when he saw someone out of the corner of his eye. One of the would be slaves had somehow worked his way to the very edge of the raised platform that the unfortunates were on, so that he was barely visible to the eyes of the crowd… But Adam certainly saw him. Once he did, he could see nothing else, in fact. Something inside the young blond man snapped. Doing a sudden mental one-eighty, he knew he had to take this guy home. At least he’d be well looked after, there. Up until now, the worst thing Adam had thought he could do to one of these people was to buy them. But as he looked around, he saw that nobody else wore the same grave expression as he did - on the contrary, they were all having a blast. They all wanted to be here, and they were going to happily do this. He’d even overheard talk of people bragging about how they abuse their slaves and make them submit, and it disgusted him. In truth, the worst thing he could do to a person was to leave them here. He had to help someone. He didn’t know this guy standing on the back corner of the stage, but he knew he wanted to take care of him, and he wanted him to be safe. They say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and for once they seem to be right. Between those and the illusion of not having a choice in the matter, it wasn’t like Adam was ever going to do anything else.

So, he’d immediately - if reluctantly - made his bid on ‘Item 659003’ as the auctioneer so charmingly referred to him (even Adam had never been given some kind of numbered designation as though he were some cheap product that had just come off of a manufacturer’s assembly line, and that was really saying something). Then he’d had to make three others, when people counterbid him. But eventually, and rather expensively, he’d secured ownership of his new slave.

He’d not had chance to meet with him, yet. That was where he was headed now. The guy had been whisked away and taken to The Conclave’s training facility, where he would be held for two weeks until his subordination could be assessed to see if he was fit to be released into his master’s custody. Until then, Adam couldn’t take full responsibility for him.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t visit him outside of a training session. Most people didn’t do that, but as soon as the money and relevant information (about security at the compound, that sort of thing) had changed hands, Adam took off like a bat out of hell, while the auction was still in full swing. When he arrived, he headed straight up to what was to be the guy’s temporary accommodation at the facility, despite being told that they hadn’t had time to ‘clean him up’, just yet. Adam dreaded what it might mean about the state that he must be in, and he didn’t want any more people poking and prodding at him. That was for sure.

Finally walking through the door and locking it behind himself, Adam tried to remain outwardly calm. If he seemed spooked, it would do nothing but alarm the guy. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, Adam punched in the code he’d been given into the panel by the door and turned off the cameras, before stepping into the room, properly. He was shocked to find his charge covered in scrapes and bruises. He could see this, because the man was gagged and handcuffed naked to the bed.

“Jesus Christ” Adam exclaimed, rushing toward the bed, before stopping himself in his tracks taking a second to put the brakes on. “I’m not going to hurt you” he promised, slowly resuming his journey toward the bed. Obviously he probably wouldn’t be believed, but it had to be said, anyway. “I’m here to help you, I promise.” He then reached forward, to remove the gag  - carefully. He wouldn’t put it past a scared stranger to bite him, if that was the only way he could lash out - and then pulled the sheets over the guy’s lap. “Uh… keys, keys, keys…” Adam repeated, mostly to himself as he looked around the room, searching for the means to free this guy, at least from the cuffs that were digging into his wrists.


“Why don’t we just let her decide who she would like to be with, then?”  Kol finally relented.  The pair had been arguing for what felt like hours before both turning towards you expectantly.  You stuttered for a moment, surprised that they had even acknowledged you at all.

“Well?  Lucien asked almost expectantly.  You stared at him for a moment before blinking and looking at Kol.

“I’m in love with him, Lucien.  Not you.”

Kate Moss photographed by David Ross 

“When I met Kate and photographed her all those years ago, there was a unique sparkle to her which was bound to evolve into something special, although I had no idea how much at the time. I was very young myself and I just wanted to do my best for Sarah, her agent. Today, these pictures are very special as they portray her at the absolute threshold of her life changing forever. They are very special to me as they mark unique moments in time and history and this is the first time I have ever printed them to present to the world. I have the utmost respect and admiration for Kate and her wonderful success which is incredibly well deserved, while she has had to work hard from such a young age and learn very quickly. She has survived an incredible run of pressure to perform almost without relent. She has climbed to the top of her profession overcoming every obstacle.”

David Ross

There are good morning and then there is this morning

Most mornings I have to get Conor ready by myself; I’ve got a decent routine (granted, it’s a bit more tricky now that he’s mobile) but we still end up heading out the door on time.

This morning, however, my darling child threw a wrench in our well-oiled morning maintenance machine when he decided that 4am was the time he wanted to be awake, rather than 6:30, our typical wake up time. It took until about 6am to convince him otherwise.

That ‘convincing’ was really just me relenting to let him sleep on my chest in our bed while I stared at the ceiling, basking in the astounding, mindblowing specialness of the moment pondering how such a small human could produce so much heat, as I sweat profusely under his tiny body, and wondering if I had actually lost the ability to walk as my legs grew numb in the awkward position I found my body contorted in.

The human hot pocket finally roused at 7:45 am (chipper as a damn Disney Princess) and I flapped about the house trying to get us both ready for the day as quickly as possible. After changing, feeding, and packing up us both, we left the house around 8:55, about an hour later than we usually do.

Arriving at daycare we both looked like we had survived some sort of natural disaster but, I more or less had things under control. Yeah, I realized I forgot to refill his cereal at the daycare (because grocery shopping did not happen as planned over the weekend) and I was out of infant Tylenol so new tooth magoo (aka, Conor) was going to have to deal. Whatever, he’ll live and before you ask, yeah, he has other forms of food to tide him over at daycare today.

I also ended up arriving at work like… over an hour late, with no time to tackle my inbox, and a realization that I did not pack myself a lunch. Which, *miracle*, I remembered (looked at my calendar for the first time since Friday) that I had a lunch n’ learn today anyways, so, problem solved.

There are about a million moms I see on social media that would have written a post about a day like today and talked about how they feel like they failed as a mom, or at least didn’t live up to what their expectations are which is, quite frankly, bullshit that anyone puts that kind of pressure on themselves. As long as your child is:

  1. alive
  2. loved
  3. not a serial killer

then I think you are #winning as a mom. Granted, Conor has pulled a knife on me (he whipped a steak knife out of the knife block over Christmas like a goddamn ninja - luckily the headline the next day was not Young Mother Slashed to Death by Infant) but he lacks the dexterity, speed, and let’s face it, cunning (I mean, he still eats his own socks) to be a successful serial killer at this point so I think I’m doing okay.