A/N: omG can you believe it? I actually finished part 2! Holy crap, I am so sorry for the extreme amount of time it took to finish this and I hope it won’t take as long to make the next part. To add to that, there’s only going to be maybe 2 more parts or so, so get prepared for the angst (; anyways, enjoy y’all! feel free to ask questions, give requests, and give feedback as my ask box is always open! love ya! xx
Word Count: 2,012
Notes: It’s kinda long and mostly internal thoughts so I’m sorry if it’s a lot to take in
T/W: references to past abusive families and slight depressive thoughts (if i missed anything necessary to note, let me know and i’ll add it)
Midnight was approaching faster than you wanted it to.
After the plan was officially laid out and organized, the consequences of it didn’t start clawing it’s way up from hell until Angelica left along with the other girls. John took a bottle of dark whiskey and headphones, locking himself in the bathroom. Herc went for a drive and still hasn’t returned. Alexander wouldn’t even meet your eye as he brushed passed you to “go out for some coffee.” Only Laf decided to stay behind, his silence from the kitchen making it hard to consider it a comfort. You knew they were only trepidatious and more than frightful for the tense night ahead of them, but it still felt like your heart was ripped out and stomped on.
[A little note: I enjoyed writing this a lot mostly because it was my poor attempt at writing a somewhat Most Wanted crossover with my MC from The Royal Romance. In any case, I hope it’s enjoyable! This is what I do instead of sleeping on the bus ride back]
[Summary: MC (Robyn) feels more alone in the entire world than she ever has before. An unlikely person will help her realize it’s more important to face her fears, than run from them]
There were nearly four hours to burn until her next ride out
of Los Angeles. She had stuck to the downtown part of the city for a better
half of an hour; thinking she needed a distraction to keep herself awake but it
wasn’t long before walking the streets of L.A. were no longer providing her
that same excitement she had once craved.
The city came alive at night; with street performers and the
constant shifting in between crowds rushing to get to their next destinations –
it was a little too close to her New Yorker lifestyle than she had prepared
for. It overwhelmed her senses, caused her to stumble and bump into shoulders
that hastily wanted to pass by. It seemed after spending as many months as she
did in the quiet simplicity of Cordonia and it’s comforting countryside –
returning to any major city filled her with anxiety.
She quickened her pace in between crowds of people, until
finally giving up entirely. Her heels swiftly
swept trudged past uneven sidewalks, until her eyes in their frequent skimming located
a bar as solace from the rest of the noisy world. A little disorientated, she
muttered apologies when she pushed past bystanders until she could cross the
Thankfully, the bar she spotted hadn’t been particularly
crowded as she ducked inside. She uttered a quick sigh of relief before
slinking onto a barstool. She could barely hear the bustling street corners
anymore from inside her, and her shoulders relaxed immensely as she waited
expectantly for the bartender.
She hadn’t given the bartender her usual winsome smile when
she caught his attention. Her mind was elsewhere. The word had been on her
tongue – whiskey and it nearly fell
from her lips until she remembered him. Then she shoved all thoughts of that
snarky man aside and opted for a dirty martini instead.
Her eyes watched the crowd for awhile as she waited for her
drink. Originally, she stepped inside here because there hadn’t been a lot of
people, but now she realized her mistake as she watched the influx mingle.
There were mostly large groups, and every so often she caught sight of
hand-holding and kissing,
Her stomach sunk and she heaved a miserable sigh. There was
nothing like other people’s public display of affection to show how lonely a
person truly felt.
She glanced at her phone on a whim as it begun vibrating. The
screen had been continually flickering on and off all day and she had stared at
it in dismay more than once at the several missed calls from Liam. She found it
odd that he was trying so hard to contact her. He was the crowned prince of
Cordonia after all and she was quite certain he had more pressing things to
worry about than being concerned about the welfare of a New York waitress. Ex-waitress, she corrected herself.
She hadn’t exactly thought they would have held her job for
her the moment she got back.
Nevertheless, it stung a little the more she lingered on Liam.
The coronation was still fresh inside her head, and while she had never
intended to marry him; she hadn’t seen becoming quite spectacle for scandals
either. She also hadn’t stuck around long enough for answers either.
Every time guilt and regret wormed its ugly root inside her
head, she reminded herself that she left for them as much as she did for herself.
Even if Liam had been a good friend to her, she couldn’t exactly waltz back
inside his or his best friend’s life anytime soon.
This was easier, she decided. Ignoring everyone that had been
apart of that life was the easier
decision. Painful, but easier.
Jughead is a lonely up and coming author. His first novel reached the National Best Seller’s List and his publisher is hounding him for more. He has six months to come up with a new and riveting story and all Jughead has to offer is a blank Word document. After another wasted night, Jughead searches to the stars for a solution to his writer’s block, but all he finds is the face of an angel leaning out her windowsill, seemingly lost and as lonely as he is. Betty Cooper is the muse Jughead didn’t know he needed, and he’ll soon realize becoming a best selling author isn’t the only dream worth living for.
It was Jason Todd, of all people, who finally got the baby to fall asleep. Jason Todd, the gun-toting, reformed mercenary, abrasive, “even death couldn’t kill me”, brash, most in-your-face member of the family.
They had tried everything.
Dick had played peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake with the baby. He had tried tickling, cuddling, silly voices… but the baby had only cried even more.
Tim had put on some classical music: Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin… claiming that it would make them both sleepier and smarter. The baby began to scream.
Steph had dangled various toys in front of the baby’s face, making weird faces at it and cooing ‘who’s a good little baby?’ over and over and over until the others told her to STOP.
Damian had attempted hypnosis on the little human, and when that failed, insisted that they give it a dose of tranquilliser from the batcave; an idea that was considered, then quickly shot down.
They had called Babs, who protested she knew nothing about babies, but suggested they ‘feed it or something’. No amount of baby formula stopped the crying, which was, by now, distressed and once again verging on screaming.
Alfred had even stepped in, fussing over the child as he felt behind the neck to check the baby’s temperature. He asked the routine questions regarding nappies and feeding and such. He put the child down in the cot, suggesting they try the ‘controlled crying method’, and chided them for spoiling the baby by answering to their every beck and call. But after fifteen minutes, even Alfred had to admit he was at a loss.
Bruce was called as a joke, but as soon as he heard the baby’s crying in the background he said “I can’t take anymore!”— his voice sounding slightly desperate, if not forced— and hung up on them.
Cass came the closest of all of them, gently dancing around the room with the baby in her arms, humming softly. But as soon as she stopped, the crying started again.
Hey everybody! I’m going to try hand at some fan fiction for all of you. I haven’t written in a long time, so I’m feeling a bit rusty. Let’s see what happens!!!
*DISCLAIMER* I DO NOT own the Teen Titans franchise (yes, this shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone) Everything I write is purely from my imagination using the characters from the show, these stories may co-exist with current storylines created by the franchise but the overall fan fiction is completely canon by yours truly.
Without further ado, please enjoy this. If you like my writing please feel free to let me know if you want me to continue writing for all of you!
It was the middle of September in Jump City, and for the most part came along some of the most beautiful weather the Titans had ever seen. All of the leaves were slowly turning from green into shades of oranges, reds and yellows. For most of the Titans, this was just a normal part of the season, and usually paid little attention to the subtle changes in the city.
Except for one Titan. Starfire.
Starfire was originally from a planet called Tamaran before she came to join the Teen Titans. Previous to a great war, her planet was lush and beautiful. Growing up, she loved to watch the seasons change around her. She would often recall to the other Titans about how she would watch the tress transform into an ocean of color once every few Earth months.
“Oh, friends! The changing of the seasons on my home planet were simply wonderful! One night all the tress would be a marvelous green, but when I would wake up the next morning they would become many shades of yellow and orange and red! I wish you could have seen it. Tamaran used to be a such a glorious place,”.
The alien princess was known for her bubbly personality and child-like innocence towards many different things. Although she was one of the strongest warriors the Titans had ever met, Starfire couldn’t help but see Earth as a world full of discovery and fantasy. Before joining the Titans, she had spent many years as a refuge princess from her home planet after being sold away as a slave, being transported from planet to planet until one day she managed to escape to Earth. When she met the Titans, she had also found her Earth family. Although many of the Titans don’t know about her difficult past, she would never forget to remind the other Titans about how grateful she was for their friendship. One Titans in particular, she was most grateful for meeting. Robin.
Robin was the leader of the Teen Titans, as well as the first human to show kindness towards Starfire when she first arrived on Earth. Since that very first day, the two had begun to develop feelings toward each other. Although they were too shy to open up about how they felt, the other three Titans could tell the instant Robin and Starfire first met. It wouldn’t be until their mission in Tokyo, where they would both confess their love. From that day on the two Titans began dating. Although Robin was not the smoothest guy when it came to romance, he tried his best to put some time away for the couple to get lunch or go on a walk together. Starfire would often tell Robin stories of her childhood that nobody had ever heard before. She finally felt comfortable enough to open up to somebody special to talk about her memories from not only Tamaran, but as her life as a slave.
That night the Titans gathered for dinner, but Robin was the only one missing from the group. Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy, and Cyborg searched for their leader hoping that he wasn’t in any danger. After a few minutes, Raven looked on the couch to find a letter addressed to Starfire.
“I think this is for you,” Raven said in a monotone voice while levitating the letter towards her alien friend.
Flipping the letter over, Starfire discovered more writing:
I’m on the roof of the Tower, come up during dinner.
“Dude, that don’t sound very romantic!” Best Boy exclaimed.
“What? No hearts, no mushy cute things? Yo, what a straight-to-the-point kind of guy,” Cyborg added.
“You’re forgetting who wrote this. He’s not exactly Prince Charming when it comes to being romantic,” Raven responded, “Although Starfire probably thinks otherwise”.
“Oh, my friends. I think this letter is wonderful. I am going to meet him right now. I shall see you all later!” Starfire giggled as she flew towards the top of the Tower.
As she stepped onto the roof, Starfire looked out onto the horizon across the bay leading towards the city. The sun was staring to disappear and the sky was washed in the colors of the sunset. She was transfixed by the majesty of it all, soaking in every last drop of color she could see.
“You going to keep standing there all by yourself?” A voiced appeared from nearby.
Breaking out of her trance, Starfire saw Robin sitting on the ledge smiling at her.
“No, I was just…looking at the colors. The sky is very beautiful as the sun goes down,”
“Why don’t you join me? We could watch it together,”
Starfire eagerly sat beside her boyfriend as they watched the sun set into the horizon. They were sitting close together, and Starfire didn’t want anything to change. She was was in love, and she was happy. After a few moments of silence, Robin put his hand on hers and said, “I know that you’ve been talking about how much you love watching the leaves change from summer to fall, so I thought we could watch from up here tonight. Just us,”
“Robin, thank you. That sounds wonderful, I am glad that we could do this together…Oh look!” Starfire exclaimed. Just as she spoke, the city lights came alive like clockwork. The entire city was lit up with beautiful colors against the dark sky, illuminating the landscape for miles. As far as the eye could see, all of the tress were beautiful shades of red, yellow, and orange. Starfire snuggled closer towards Robin as she rested her cheek onto his shoulder. They sighed together, perfectly content with each other’s company. Robin placed an arm around his girlfriend, and brought her even closer to his chest so that she could hear his heartbeat loud and clear. They sat like that for what seemed an eternity. Neither wanted to move, and they were both happy just to be with the other.
“Hey, Star” Robin said gently, not wanting to disrupt the calming atmosphere.
“You know how you told me those stories from when you were younger. The ones about Tamaran and the ones where…” he trailed off, not wanting to bring up painful memories.
“Yes, I remember. Why do you ask?”
“Well, umm…you know I’m not the best with words, but, I just wanted to let you know what…” he trailed off again, struggling to find the right words to express his feelings.
“Robin, what is it? Is everything alright?” Starfire asked, turning to look into Robin’s eyes.
“Starfire. I want you to know that I’ll always protect you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. I love you too much to see you in pain. You’re not just my best friend. You’re more than that, and I promise that I’ll always be by your side. No matter what, Star. I’ll always be there for you,”
Silence. Before Robin could say another word, Starfire leaned in and kissed him. Their lips locked in a passionate embrace, and they stayed like that for what felt like forever. Heat raced through their bodies and the two lovers stayed stuck together. Slowly pulling their lips away, their eyes remained connected. Starfire gently put a hand onto Robin cheek, “Robin, and I will always love you,”
Robin blushed, “I’m glad that you feel the same way. I don’t think I can imagine a world without you in it, Star. I promise that I’ll always be there for you,”
Without saying another word, Starfire and Robin looked back out toward the city of lights as they remained together in a loving embrace. The night felt never-ending, and for the two of them, they hoped it would stay like that forever.
So cute! I hope you all enjoyed my little story.
Feel free to reblog this as long as you give me credit.
Here was a delicious day. That was how they described it at the time: delicious.
An Uncle had come to free them from the confines of their very dreary family lessons. He brought his pup, a large and black and friendly thing that they both adored. He took them to a spot near a river, in some magic-lit section of the city, and there they rode a carousel where all the animals came alive and talked to them as they whirled around and around.
A brief spat marred the perfect day. Was the better animal the very solid lion which would not leap about? One youth – named for lions – said it was, because it was steadfast and true, and besides this it gave one no fright to ride such a majestic creature, fixed and steady on his pole. The lion licked him in thanks.
The other boy preferred the moving animals. He said that no, no; better to choose the snapping wolf, or, naturally, the snake. But the snake had a bite. This settled the argument. And rather put the older boy off of snakes for the very first time. Not the last.
Soothing ice cream followed, pumpkin flavored for one and for the other chocolate with caramel sauce. They walked along the river, and came on some children sledding – children who were ordinary and forbidden and therefore exciting – and begged their Uncle if they could join in. They could. The ordinary children asked: were they wearing costumes?
It was a funny question. They laughed and laughed. They didn’t notice the spells their uncle cast afterwards, to make the ordinary children forget, to make the memory slide away. They didn’t realize, young as they were, that memories could do that, that memories are silvery and insubstantial by nature.
When they returned, a beautiful cousin, her eyes as blue as the river (which was so blue on that day, blue as the sky, so perfect they swore they’d never forget it), asked them what kind of day they’d had. And they said, unselfconsciously, without a trace of that embarrassment that comes upon older boys caught using posh accents and silly baby terms, that it was a delicious one.
But the younger boy did forget, perhaps because he had a weak mind, or perhaps simply because he’d been very young at the time. The older one did not – not the animals and their lessons, not the ordinary children, not the kindness of the Uncle, not the blueness of the river.
Not until he should face the Dementors, who came with gaping maws and cloaks fluttering open to show their empty black hunger. They took the delicious memories first.
“I’ve lived around here my entire life, always uneasy because my worst fears could come true around any corner of this city. Tonight was the night my nightmares came alive, so I am so thankful that you saved me.” You say, looking up into the red masked man, smiling slightly.
“I’ll always keep you safe.” You hear, but when you look up, he’s gone.
[Disclaimer: The gifs are not mine! If you know that these are your gifs please let me know so I can give you proper credit.]
First off, Oliver’s face after Felicity says ‘I’m not going to wait with you’ kills. It legitimately kills. Anywho, moving on.
This scene was gold. More than heroism, this scene is everything that this television show lay it’s foundation on: humanity.
Oliver compartmentalized everything since the island. If he didn’t, if he let himself have the luxury to fall apart and feel, he would be long gone dead. What makes us have humanity is the capability to feel, to love, to be compassionate and caring (looking at you S1-S3 TVD, you knew when your show was still good). Oliver completely strips those pieces of humanity off of him, and unlike weight, it’s so much easier to lose your humanity than to gain it back. For so long Oliver was this killer and using one of my favorite Nikita quotes, once you kill someone it “takes away a part of you you can never get back.” And exactly how many people have Oliver killed? 20? More?
But what made Oliver become this.. other person? Let’s rewind it all: death. He literally sees his father commit suicide in front of his eyes. From there on out death was tangible, tapping at his back with every breath he took. But sometimes what screws us most are the things that we never prepare for. When Oliver faced the reality that he has to survive the island, he sought himself to live, to fight because if he didn’t, he would die. The mortality of his life was always in his mind, a constant reminder that he either was going to live or die on that island, he was prepared for either. But what did he not anticipate? He didn’t anticipate the death of the other people around him. When that constantly happens around you, death doesn’t become the tragedy of life, it becomes normalcy, mundane. Before you know it, you’re numb to the pain. You don’t feel. You just do what you have done the day before, try to survive.
But is surviving really living?
No. It’s not.
You survive to live. You don’t live to survive.
Adding another one of my favorite quotes, this time around from The Hunger Games Trilogy, “It takes more than that to keep a person going once [they’ve] lost the will to live.”
So when Oliver came back alive to Starling City? He was still dead. Inside anyways. But then Season 1 Episode 3 he walks into Felicity’s office and she’s the first person he sees as a person. Not a liability, not a threat or a target, but a person. A happy little ball of life quirking her head to the side when she catches his bullshit lie.
Happy little ball of life was the comical relief with her Freudian slips and cute little personality quirks. She was the one who helped him realize he could be a better person than killing all those people. She was the one of the only two to believe in him when others turned their backs on him. She was the person to urge him to never give up. She was the one who, for the first time since the island, Oliver romantically professes his love for.
Then happy little ball of life is put on the medic table and everything comes crashing down.
Death is tangible again. It’s in the air. In fact, it really was in the air.
Then the knife, more accurately an arrow, is twisted by an actual death. A surprising death. Then there it is again, a body on that table.
Oliver is catapulted back to what I like to call, the island isolation mentality. Everyone he’s ever cared for he loses, his father, Sara, Yao Fe, Shado, Slade, Sara again, Tommy, his mother, and Sara yet again. The list goes on and on. So what does he do? He pushes them away. As much as it is to keep them “safe” it’s also a coping mechanism. Because let’s face it you guys, how much death can a person take until they have to go into a psych ward?
But this time it’s a little different because he has experienced happiness since the island. A blissful 5 months when he was on top of the world. He was a hero. Like I’ve said, it’s harder to re-gain the things you have lost, and analogous to another quote from Holes,“ It’s the second hole that’s harder to dig.”
So when his world comes crumbling back down again, it’s a comes crumbling a little harder. More rubbles.
He sets himself on default. And what was his default? To be numb. Numb the pain so you can live through it.
But. That. Is. Not. Living.
And here comes the Olicity 3x02 scene.
Line for line, Felicity reminds Oliver that he is human, that he has feelings,
that he should be able to process and feel those emotions, and that he has a life to live.
She reminds Oliver, for goodness sakes, this was his Sara.
The Sara that lived and died with him on that boat and the Sara that lived and died with him on the island. If there’s anyone else in this world who knows how painful those 5-years were, it’s Sara. And like the connection between Laurel and Oliver to Tommy, the island is the connection between Sara and Oliver. You can never just take those things away. They’re a crucible. It becomes a part of you. You can’t re-write them. You have to process and move on. So if there’s anyone who’s more connected to Oliver through all the shit he’s gone through, It’s Sara. To have that deep connection with someone as such, Oliver should practically be flipping shit upside down.
But he’s not.
Because he’s gone back to his default mode.
So when Felicity is reminding him that he doesn’t have to compartmentalize his emotions and that he can break down as much other people are, she’s calling to Oliver. Oliver may be unmasked in that scene but he’s still wearing the Arrow costume because this was his choice. To push aside 'Oliver Queen’ to become the Arrow instead. 2 different people.
But Felicity knows better. She knows that just because he is wearing the costume doesn’t mean he can’t be human because he is a 'superhero’. No.
To be a hero, you sacrifice what it takes to do good. To want to do good and differentiate it from wrong, you must have a moral compass. And what are the measurements of a moral compass? Right and wrong? Fundamentally, how do we define right from wrong? From our emotions. And in the simplicity of it all, If it doesn’t feel good, it’s wrong. If it does, it’s right. Sometimes the only way to validate our existence in this world is through our emotions.
“So damnit Oliver, FEEL!” Felicity practically yells, “feel because you’re alive!"
That there folks, is Felicity literally calling to Oliver. To his humanity. Because numbing yourself of the pain, isn’t living.
The important thing though, Oliver already knows that being the Arrow and living this life, he’s going to die sooner rather than later.
He’s come into terms with that. Shit, he’s come into terms with that 8 years in the making. He’s not scared to die. What he is scared though, is to live. To love. To feel.
Death is easy, living is harder.
A soul that is already dead is not a life lived, it’s a life wasted.
Then we have Felicity with this incredible line:
She gets it too. She knows that with what they do, it’s a risky life; life and death, everyday. Their mortality rate are significantly lower than you average human being. But does that mean just because she knows that they’re going to die one of these days that she’s going to waste her life?
She explicitly says that "life is precious” and that even though she does do the saving the city at night, she still lives and will live her life. Mind you, on a lower scale and more subtle way, she has a second identity too.
Though unlike Oliver, she knows the difference and more importantly the balance between the Felicity Smoak daytime average joe and Felicity Smoak nighttime hacker.
Oliver doesn’t say anything and lets her walk away.
Walk away she must. Remember folks, by the commandment that is of John Diggle’s quote:
Are they the right fit right now? No. Oliver has to find himself. And who he truly is. Not billionaire Oliver Queen or the Arrow, but a person. A man. As simple as that. And once he’s found that balance between Oliver Queen and the Arrow, he’s also found the balance between his obligations and wants and needs. Then will the words of the almighty John Diggle come true: “You can stare down death with something to live for or not. Something to live for is better.”He can finally live.
This is how you construct an EPIC love, love that isn’t driven by lust or just the physical attraction or even the emotional pull of two people to each other. No. This is the basis and foundations of humanity, understanding each other’s soul and connecting with it. And once you do, everything else is a byproduct. You look into each other’s eyes and see each other’s soul knowing that you two are connected in ways that if one person would hurt, so will the other. It’s a binding love, love in its rawest, most pure form. It’s what love should be.
remember being a kid and how the city came alive when you visited it and every building seemed taller than the last and every person you passed on the street was full of stories you would never get to hear and it drove you crazy to think about it. standing on top of the world, taller than london, but smaller than ever. it’s windy and cold but you think this is the closest you’ve ever been to really flying. the closest you’ve been to freedom. - 27th April 2016
I love coming here. It’s a nice place to escape when the world gets on top of you. There’s something about sitting on a high point, watching the city alive at night underneath you. I came up with here with a friend to vibe. The photo does the view no justice.
Dahlia silenced her alarm quickly, groaning into the darkness of her bedroom. Even though she frequently worked the morning shift, she never really was a morning person. She rolled out of bed quickly, clicking on her light. She grabbed her doorknob, but hesitated. It was then that she remembered Michael was in her living room fast asleep.
She opened the door slowly, peering out into the dim room. Light from the moon that still hung in the sky shone through the windows and onto Michael’s face. He was peaceful in his slumber, his lips slightly parted as he snored softly. His black hair stuck out at odd angles across the stark whiteness of the pillow.
About a week after the attack the service was held, the rain was heavy the whole week following the young twins death. Wanda hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone but Vision after it all happened. His body was kept below the new shield base until a clear day came.
As Wanda tossed the dirt and the funeral closed the team went their separate ways. Nat returned to the academy, Clint returned home, Bruce was gone, and Tony wondered the tower. The world was somewhat calm, allowing the hero’s to rest.
The rain started again, that’s when he blinked. The casket was dark but comfy and warm, he closed his eyes wishing to return to his dreamlike state. As the wood creaked and water began to seep through he stirred. Using what little energy left he had Pietro ripped open the top, after a fee hours of struggle he surfaced. The full moon was blinding to the twins eyes.
Images of faces and her scream rung in his ear. His chest felt like it was tearing back open with each step, blood soaked the tux he had been put in.
After a few miles of walking he came across the city, lit up bright and alive. Walking into its depths he found himself in the older side of town, a name came to him. Steve. Then an address. The file he had been given about the solider flashed across his vision. Stumbling toward the building he rode the elevator up, Steve.
Knocking on the door he heard the door creak, seeing the blonde he stared silently. Images returned and his chest finally began to hurt, the blood dropped around his feet, “Steve.”