#so I like to give him a little extra pizazz now and again

[williamshamspeare]

Mostly just wanted to see what Whiff would look like with Bouncer Shades. This is like the second time I've added a change to his Style B

[coolcatsodalite]

Re-did Joker's faceup to reflect his new in-game makeup. I feel like his lashes came out a bit.. not great lol. He may get re-done again somewhere down the line but for right now, good enough. His job is Dancer, and my backstory for him is he's actually a magical boy, so i went off model a little to give him just a teeeeeny bit of shimmer for some extra pizazz *jazz hands*

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Qsmp x Streamer reader (4)

Summary - it's the first day you get to spend in the qsmp 'highly secured islander vacation' truthfully it's just a glorified prison system. The funny thing is you are being treated differently among the inmates. No one knows why as you keep something to yourself because of your lore.

Warnings - Mentions of Beating/torture for information. Angst

There is a chance for this to turn into a love trope of some kind but for now there is focus on fluffy platonic-ness

This series will not be 100% lore accurate, but it will be pretty close to it. If certain people don't log on soon, I may change things around until they do actually log on.

Masterlist

Everyone was online, I was currently stood near philza and Etoiles. They were yelling at each other, the only words being "My bro!" I laughed as Phil moved his mic around his face while yelling to add more pizazz to their silly encounter. Suddenly we were forced to watch another cutscene as the eye man popped up on screen. He began to warn us of the incoming doom as we had one of his people kept away on our island. But right at the end he made one comment about me in particular. "You also have gained a new islander, its unfortunate that they are now stuck with the likes of you sinners" Then the video cut as I heard everyone screaming again.

"What does that mean? Does this eye guy not think y/n is a sinner? I'm so confused!" Foolish screamed. Next we were all teleported to the qsmp hub where the whole island began. While we all waited for the next part of the event to begin, we kind of just ran around the hub chatting. I saw Leo and peptic start beating up foolish, Phil and his eggs just chatted in a corner. However this was also short lived as another cut scene started and everyone was muted. This time the cut scene was Cucurucho as he explained how the islander were now forced to stay at a heavily guarded island vacation. But really it was just a giant prison owned by the federation.

Then we got teleported into a prison before another cutscene began, this time everything about the prison and what we were expected to do was explained.

Finally we were free from all the teleporting and cutscenes as they tried to lead us into the prison. They all showed us our rooms and who our roommates were. I was given a room by myself, this was mainly because I was also given a walk in tank to stretch my tail every now and then. I was on a top floor right above Will and Missa. I checked my character out to see how I looked since they changed my characters outfit to orange, so I looked the same but my outfit was orange like a prison uniform. I could hear the voices of others as they reached out all around me.

I payed extra attention to the others and stayed quiet, taking in everything that was going on. I watched as a guard took foolish from his cell to another room to talk privately. Easily I could tell his job for the federation was giving him special privileges, especially when he came back giggling quietly.

I decided to waste some time by organizing my two little cupboards. In the cupboards I found mainly webs, skulls, and dead bushes. However in the other cupboard I found a little book, next to it was backpack. Opening the book I read the words to myself, clicking the translator for my Spanish viewers. I made sure to give extra time for others to read. I even put some words on screen saying I was not allowed to read it aloud.

It read

Hello again little shark,

I see you were able to escape my grasp yet again, don't you remember the lessons I taught you? You sit amongst the sinners now. Aren't you disgusted by their actions? Well I hope you have fun, I'll allow you this experience cause I know you will come running right back to me. This time you will come with some... much needed information.

For now I will leave you with some well deserved supplies. I wouldn't want my favorite little shark getting hurt by some repulsive sinners.

Can't wait to hear from you

Sincerely Zpvs Tbwjps,

The name had been tampered with as now it was some sort of random code or maybe just random letters that had no meaning. Fr now you would just continue with your day.

I picked up the backpack and hid it in my inventory, they had disabled the domestic mod that hid your armor and backpack from others. Inside the backpack was a bunch of extra food, a couple turtle helmets with respiration on them, and finally a few weapons. "Remember chat, this event will be dropping some lore for me. I ask that you keep anything to do with me from the other chats. Along with not telling me about the others. Basically don't ruin the fun or story for others."

My chat agreed with me and promised their cooperation. With everyone in agreement we were finally allowed to leave the cells. Walking around I stuck with Quackity for a bit as we talked to each other in Spanish.

" ¿Para qué estás aquí pendejo?" I asked walking up to him

What are you here for, asshole?

"¡Ey! ¿Muy grosero?" He yelled back at me

Hey! Rude much?

"sólo responde la pregunta pato chico" I told him faking annoyance

just answer the question duck boy

He told me the charges they had put on the wanted poster on twitter as we walked to where ever they were leading us. Quackity and I continued our chat in Spanish until we made it to what I assume was the cafeteria. Once we got there the guards told us to take a seat first. So I simply walked over to a table and sat down. Niki and Bagi joining me, we called our table "Mom's and Y/n" just for shits and giggles. With our announced table name, Mouse was quick to join as she wanted to be with her co-parents.

We held a light conversation before they finally told everyone to line up for their meal. But when it was my turn, the guards paused and one came up asking me to follow them. Everyone around me had noticed this and Phil was there first to say something. "Where are you taking y/n?" The guard looked at him and only said. "Sit down and eat"

I followed the guard as we walked for what seemed like ages. Winding in and out of doors and hallways. Once we got to where they wanted to take me. That when I learned why we had to be as far away as possible. As the guard handed me a book and I read it aloud.

We know where you really came from...

You have connections to the small creature...

Until you give up the information we want you will experience only hardships and beatings for your crimes...

The crime of hiding away the information we want and ask for..

You have 10 seconds after reading this to tell me otherwise you will be beaten...

I threw the book back at him. "I have no information, I know nothing, I have no idea what you are even talking about. If this is how it must be then I will take it with pride. With my bloodshed Poseidon will write your fate. So take your risk if you dare." Without a second thought or word the guard began to shoot me over and over again. Seeing as we were in a closed room, and this guard was the only one with a key to the door, I just took it. Around somewhere an admin began to play specific audios, like it was a voice talking to me from my conscious so that my viewers could hear it too.

"You will understand me one day little shark

"You will come to see them the way I do"

"They are all sinners"

"Weaklings fighting for survival in a world they will never understand."

"You are different than them, You live without sin"

"I will protect you from sin just stay with me little shark."

In chat you could see my name saying I was taken down by 1 and then that I had been finished off by the same guard. This showed up 10 more times as the guard had placed me in the same cell where I would respawn automatically. Throughout these few minutes, I saw all of my friends yelling through chat wondering what was going on and why I was getting killed repeatedly in such quick succession. Everyone was getting more and more upset but the funniest one to read was Etoiles.

He was instantly asking where I was so he could save me from the guard who had lost his mind. Then he started calling out the guard for being a coward by attacking a shark out of water.

Once my 'beating' was over they let me go. My Minecraft skin was changed to reflect my beating, I now had a few marks to represent cuts and bruises. I was teleported back to the cafeteria with the rest of the qsmp members. Phil was the first to notice me. "What the hell happened back there y/n?!" I shook my head. This was part of my lore, I wasn't allowed to explain why I was getting killed over and over again. "Ju- Just don't worry about it Phil. Let's eat" Phil tried to get me to talk as I sat down and began eating. Others rushed over to me as well trying to understand why I had been taken away in secrecy and spawn killed.

But once they realized that I wouldn't tell them (more like I couldn't). That's when they finally gave up. However I did notice someone always staying near me from that point on.

After a while they had decided to take us to a new cell block. Here we found is where they keep all the egg babies. I found Sunny first with Phil, "come on sunny let's find Lulu!" Sunny nodded and ran around with me as we were on a mission. She wasn't on the first floor so we ran upstairs where we found Foolish had just found Tallulah.

"Oh my gosh! Lulu! are you okay sweetness! You too sunny are you alright?" We had moved to a more open area as they both placed signs. Tallulah said she was okay and so was sunny, however they both asked if I was okay as they had also seen the chat when I went through my multiple deaths. I just told them that everything was okay and there was nothing to worry about.

"Sunny, I know your dad is not here right now because he unfortunately got caught up in some things outside of this world. So I will take care of you today alright?" She nodded and then I turned my attention to Tallulah. "Now Tallulah I hope you are okay with this and can understand. You still have Phil and Cheyenne to help you but sunny needs someone to pay more attention to her right now. To make sure she doesn't get hurt." Tallulah placed down a sign and told me. 'Don't worry y/n! I understand, I'm glad sunny has you today until her pa comes back!' I smiled and the three of us returned back to the main group.

To be continued...

[eremiie]

tips for planning a multipart fanfic? I’m considering on writing one but I’m not sure how to really plan :/// I only got the general concept as well as the title down but that’s as far as I could get for being an amateur of a writer... orz

i’ll try to help you out!

so i only have one multipart fic (a series) in the works right now, but i’ll tell you what i’ve done :)

planning a series;

determine whether you’re a plotter or a pantser;

a plotter is someone who outlines and plots their whole entire story before they begin it. i am a plotter, i plan out every little thing, and this goes for my series to my oneshots, to sometimes even drabbles LMFAO. a pantser is someone who doesn’t do much planning and kind of just goes with the flow. this is a spectrum— you can be in the middle, you can lean towards plotting, you can lead towards pantsing. i will say take a shot at plotting though because i think it’s really helpful and can really help you lay a basis for your story. there’s a lot of outlining sheets to take from the internet, like “the heros journey”, “the eight c’s”, etc!

know your characters;

for fanfics it’s pretty easier than creating original characters because you already have characters that you’re working with that you just need to characterize to fit the plot. characterizing characters and getting them right can be hard too though. i suggest using wiki websites for these characters to know their personality, research their zodiacs if you think they act like them, research their personality types, etc. since i usually write reader inserts i still characterize my reader but i make it as vague as possible. for example, my reader in my series karma is independent, caring, a tad bit stoic, and much more. knowing your characters doesn’t even stop at the personality though— in my notes for my outline of karma i have things down to how my characters talk! here’s a peek at my notes;

if you can see, the first photo i planned out the characters relation to reader, and in the second photo i planned out how the characters talk. you’re probably like “why does that matter?” but even things like that can really characterize and give way to a character. sasha’s speech style shows that she grew up in the country— because canonically she lived on a farm and i incorporate that into my story. pieck’s speech style (will) shows that she’s clever, and she’s smart and she lets people figure out things on their own. armin’s speech style shows that he’s intelligent and has a lot going on in his brain!! so yeah, know your characters :)

worldbuild;

worldbuilding is as it sounds, build your world, plan out the world you’re gonna create in your story, even if it’s something you’re not gonna mention— knowing your world to the best of your ability helps you know how your characters will move in this world. for example, in my notes i have the plot set in marley, “marley university” if you will, i have the dormmates written down, the couples written down, i have imagery of how the college is set up in my head as well. so worldbuild your story.

character arcs;

so especially for stories with a lot of characters you’ll need to give characters purpose in your stories. don’t just introduce a character in chapter 4 and forget about them. every character introduced needs to come back eventually. the character needs to have some purpose in the story, their relevance needs to be made known. and this character needs to have their own closing for their “arc” as well. for example, in attack on titan isayama closes every single one of the characters arcs by fulfilling what they needed to fulfill, by having them push the plot forth, or come at peace within theirselves or something like that. ymir for example finally got to live for herself and shows hisu how to live for herself. released hisu from the binds of “christa” and helped her discover her true self. this in itself pushed the plot forth because hisu became hisu which is a reiss and took the throne, and so on. that was the closing of ymir’s arc, and that was the blossom for historia’s. so know your characters and build arcs for them that’ll come to a close. write these arcs down in your notes if you need to make it clear for yourself!

plot;

and of course, we’ll dive deep into plotting. so when i plot my story i figure out what the endgame is at first. how is the story gonna end? where is everyone going to end up? if it’s a romance are the 2 characters going to end up together? when you know the end you can work backwards until you get to the beginning. this is optional but also know what you’re trying to tell your reader. do you have a theme in mind? 

when i plot i start with big plot points personally, so what are the main events that are going to happen? then i figure out the mini plot points that’ll get us from point A to point B until all the gaps are filled. so once again, for example lets say we’re writing a romance. endgame is that eren and armin end up together.

eren and armin meet in a coffee shop where eren is struggling with his biology class

eren and armin become study buddies

eren and armin realize they like each other after so many study seshs

eren stops studying with armin bc he thinks he’s gonna mess something up

armin gets sad and starts talking to jean about it

eren thinks jean and armin have something going on so he confesses to armin b4 jean does (even tho jean wasn’t)

eren and armin end up together

LMAO so those would be my major plot points, then i’d intertwine these plot points together to create the story as a whole. maybe armin sits down to help eren since he was waiting for his coffee and ended up staying longer than he intended. maybe then armin bumps into eren at school and recognizes him from the coffee shop and asks him how biology is going and eren says terrible so he offers to study with him. (that’d be from point A to B) maybe then they become routine study buddies every wednesday and start pining for each other. and so on, i’ll slowly intertwine all these plot points until i have the story all filled out. 

go into detail with it!!! figure out the events in between that will lead to the next event, make it all click :) afterwards you can divide everything into chapters.

i will say though when you’re dividing it into chapters i think what’s gonna make your reader want to turn the page is leaving every chapter on a “cliffhanger” and a cliffhanger doesn’t always mean something big. it just means something left open ended that the reader needs to read more to find out about. for example in karma chapter one, why is eren drunk? who is the unknown number texting his phone? these things need to eventually be answered and the reader has to turn the page to get to the answer to these questions. 

try to lace everything in your story together, and make sure that everything mentioned in your story needs to be mentioned. chekhov’s gun; don’t tell us there’s a gun on the wall in chapter 1 if someone’s not gonna fire it in chapter 12. bring everything back and let everything contribute to the story as a whole. 

symbolism;

annddd just a little something extra that can really round out a series is symbolism. symbols give this pizazz to your story— but it’s optional of course!! i just think it’s fun to add in. for example, the purple flowers in attack on titan, the tree eren likes to sleep under, attack on titan ending on 139, little things like that are symbolism and can shed more on a story or on a character than you think. be wise with your symbolism and sprinkle it here and there (make sure it makes sense though!!) 

[rohad93]

Moonlit Masquerade: Under the Lights

“So, do you know what your plans for this weekend are?” Willow asked her Monday as they sat eating lunch and waiting on Luz, who’d hadn’t shown up from class yet.

Amity looked up from her sandwich, still chewing the bite in her mouth. She quickly swallowed it.

“I don’t have any that I know of yet, why?“ 

“What about your anniversary?” Gus asked as he looked up from his own food.

“My anniversary?” Amity repeated, looking just as confused as she sounded. “What anniversary?” She turned to the illusion track student.

Willow seemed to realize something as her eyes went wide and she shook her hands.

“Nothing, nevermind…,” she started to say, but Gus, heedless of the fact that Amity was clueless and Willow was trying to back track, went on.

“Luz said this Saturday was your one month anniversary and she was thinking of doing something for you,” he said, not noticing the look Willow was now giving him.

Amity blinked at him before horror slowly began to dawn upon her face.

Gus and Willow watched, fascinated as she dropped her sandwich and slapped both hands to her cheeks.

“Titan, I didn’t even think about it!” she yelped. “I’m such a bad girlfriend,” she groaned.

Willow shot Gus another look and the younger witch looked back and forth between the two before coming to his own realization.

“Ooh… sorry,” he mumbled, hunkering down behind his food. Willow sighed, before turning back to Amity.

“You’re not a bad girlfriend, Amity. You’re just not the type to do that coupley thing where you feel like you have to celebrate every month, a lot of people aren’t.” Willow shrugged, spearing some of her salad on her fork.

Amity couldn’t deny that that was true, she had seen plenty of couples, like Skara and her boyfriend, do that nauseating thing where they celebrated being a couple every two weeks or some other absurdly short amount of time and she’d always thought it was silly.

Now that she and Luz were dating she found herself whistling a different tune. 

Not that she was going to start making a big deal out of every other week like some people.

After spending almost a month and a half pining after Luz only for them to now be dating, and for a month? That was worth something to her.

“But I should know that Luz would be that kind of person, and of course she’s already thinking about it,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. Gus and Willow shared a sympathetic look.

“Well, based on what she said this morning, I don’t think she has any kind of plan yet,” Willow tried to assure her. “She really only mentioned it and that she might want to do something.”

Amity shot up ramrod straight at that, smacking both her fists on the table.

“I still have time then, I can beat her to it.” Amity seemed to be talking more to herself from the two of them.

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think it’s a competition, Amity.” Willow looked at her, mildly concerned.

“No, of course it isn’t, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “After everything Luz did last month, the gifts and notes… the dance… I want to be able to do something big for her back. We hang out all the time after school and on the weekends and we call them dates but I want to do something more…,” she trailed off, thinking. 

“Romantic?” Willow finished with a knowing grin as she took a bite of her lunch.

Amity’s face pinked, but she nodded, clenching her fists.

“Well…,” Willow hummed thoughtfully. “Grand gestures are kind of Luz’s thing, it’s how she shows she cares, so if you did some big romantic gesture I’m sure it would blow her away.” She smiled. 

“Yeah!” Gus slapped his palms on the table. “Something big and flashy, with some pizazz!” Her twirled a finger and confetti burst into the air, dissolving into sparks of blue magic as it hit the table. 

“Well, maybe not quite like that,” Willow giggled. “But something,” she agreed.

“Flashy isn’t really my thing…” Amity frowned, drumming her fingers on the table as she rested her chin in her other hand, brows furrowed in thought.

“I’m sure whatever you do, Luz will love it.” Willow smiled softly at her childhood friend. 

Speaking of…

Luz chose that moment to come dashing into the cafeteria and headed straight for them.

“Hey, all my favorite people!” She hopped over the bench to plop into the spot next to Amity as she reached across the table to high five Gus and shoot Willow a finger gun before turning to Amity with a bright grin. “And my favorite girlfriend,” she said quietly with a wink. 

Amity found herself grinning back, cheeks only turning a little pink now when the other girl casually flirted with her.

“I had better be your only girlfriend, Noceda,” she teased, only just holding back her laughter as Luz clutched dramatically at her chest and gasped in mock affront.

“As if there could ever be anyone else, Cariño.” She couldn’t hold the facade for long and broke into a wide grin, reaching under the table to give Amity’s knee a brief squeeze. They did their best to refrain from any physical displays or words of affection at school, though Luz occasionally, sneakily, did something like that; it was just who she was.

Willow rolled her eyes at the couple and Gus made a gagging motion. 

“Sorry it took so long, some chimera’s got loose in beast keeping near the end of class…,” Luz launched into a story.

The rest of lunch went by quickly and soon the bell’s screaming echoed over the din of the lunch room. 

“Oh, I better get to potions!” Luz jumped up.

“Wait, Luz.” Amity’s hand on her forearm made her still. “Do you have plans for Saturday?” she asked, already knowing the answer, but she couldn’t let her know that.

“Nope, why?”

“There’s something I wanted to do Saturday, with you.” 

“Sure, what?” Luz cocked her head curiously.

“It’s a surprise.” Amity smiled at the way Luz’s dark eyes lit up with the word.

“Ooh, I see.” she grinned. “Well, I’m all yours Saturday then.” 

“Perfect” she smiled at the words ‘all yours’ and felt the familiar warm and tingly sensation that filled her whole body whenever Luz said or did something that struck that certain chord in her heart. 

“See you guys later.” She waved at Gus and Willow, who waved back before turning to Amity. “After school?” she asked with a meaningful look that made Amity smile sadly. 

She’d been thinking about it all through lunch and she had an idea, but if she wanted it to become a reality she’d need to start right after school.

“I can’t today…” She hated the way Luz’s shoulders fell at the words but Saturday would make her disappointment now worth it. 

“Alright,” she pouted. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” she asked, making Amity roll her eyes.

“Of course, you dork,” she huffed but Luz only grinned. 

“Adiós, Cariño!” Luz waved as she jogged out of the cafeteria toward the potions hall. 

Once she was gone Amity turned back to the others at the table.

“What does ‘Cariño’ mean?” she asked. They just shrugged. Luz had started calling her that last week and she always forgot to ask about it. 

“You have a plan for Saturday?” Willow cocked a brow questioningly at the familiar look on Amity’s face.

“I have an idea…,” she said. “But I need to start first thing after school… and I may need a little help…” she looked at them.

The two shared a glance before turning back to her with matching smiles.

“What do you need?”

~ ~

Amity’s plan was slowly forming in her head as she hurried to the Bonesburough market as soon as the last bell screamed.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do and where, but she needed some extra information first if it was gonna be perfect.

She needed to talk to Eda, and she knew from Luz that Eda had started selling things again in the market just last week, figuring some of the pressure around her had died down.

She turned the corner and spotted the rickety stand being manned by the Owl Lady herself, though she was wearing a wrap around her head and some sunglasses. 

Amity wasn’t sure who that disguise was supposed to fool since Eda was the most wanted criminal in the Isles, but that was Eda’s business. 

She walked up to the stand and waited for the customer finishing their purchase to leave before approaching.

Eda noticed her quickly.

“Hey, kid. Need some human paraphernalia for your human?” she asked with a grin and a wink, making Amity flush.

“No, I don’t need anything for Luz… but I do need something from you,” she said.

“Oh?” Eda leaned over the counter and peered at her over the tops of her sunglasses. 

“I'm… doing something to surprise Luz and I was wondering if you could tell me what some of her favorite foods are, she’s told me you cook for her.“ 

“Well, I cook, yeah, but other than pancakes, the kid’s not big on most of my meals… not that I blame her.” She shrugged. 

Amity frowned at that, Eda was really her only hope for this information. Gus and Willow hadn’t known much about it and while she and Luz talked all the time about all kinds of things, it was natural that some things just hadn’t come up yet. 

“There is some food I’ve heard her talk about that she loves, something her mom made for her… what was it?” Eda tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“I believe she called it ‘tostones’.” Another voice called and they both turned to see Lilith, as she came out of the back of the stand holding a box of human junk.

“That’s right!” Eda snapped her fingers.

Amity frowned at the sight of the former coven leader.

She and Luz had talked about Lilith only once. Luz didn’t like that she was still holding a grudge over the things that had happened with the elder Clawtorne sister, but she respected Amity’s right to her feelings and didn’t bring it up, only mentioning her former mentor in passing.

Luz was just too forgiving sometimes, in Amity’s opinion. Though she guessed if she wasn’t they wouldn’t be where they were today, so she would be cordial at the owl house when she was there, for Luz; but that didn’t mean she had to like Lilith.

Lilith noticed the less than friendly look she was getting from the teen and averted her eyes. She was lucky Luz was so quick to let things go, but she knew the same could not be said for most people, and really, she deserved it. Eda smirked at her sister’s demeanor in front of her former protégé.

“What are ‘tostones’?” The foreign word felt strange on her tongue as she looked back to Eda who shrugged. 

“Some kind of fried fruit?” She turned to her sister who nodded.

“She said it was a fruit in the human world. A ‘plantain’. You slice them into disks, fry them, smash them flat, then fry them again and sprinkle them with salt." 

"Oh yeah… kid was practically drooling.” Eda smirked, rolling her eyes

“We probably don’t have that fruit here…” Amity frowned.

“No, but I’ve given her Gorgon fruit before and she said it was really similar, you could probably make it with those,” Eda suggested.

“Gorgon fruit, huh?” she hummed.

Amity was familiar with them. While you could eat them, most people didn’t because of their bland flavor and starchy texture. But she was damned if she wasn’t going to try. 

“I can get Gorgon fruit…,” she trailed off thoughtfully.

“Amity!?" 

Amity jumped, looking up in time to see her girlfriend come barreling toward her at full speed from across the market. 

She pounced on her, wrapping her arms around the witch’s neck and grinning.

"Hi, Luz.” Amity smiled, wrapping her arms around Luz if no other reason then to keep from being barreled over as she was tackled at full speed.

The sisters smirked, glancing at each other as they watched the two teenagers.

“What are you doing here, I thought you had something to do after school?” she asked after stepping back to look at her.

“Oh, yes, I…,” she trailed off. She hadn’t thought Luz would be at the market today and had not prepared an excuse in case she ran into her. Her eyes flickered across Luz’s patiently waiting face, mind racing for something to say.

“She came to speak to me." 

They both turned to Lilith in surprise.

"You did?” Luz blinked, turning her gaze back on Amity, who quickly schooled her features so as not to look as surprised as Luz.

“Yessss…,” she said slowly, trying not to sound equally bewildered.

Then a bright smile broke out on Luz’s face and she nudged her gently.

“I’m proud of you,” she said quietly. 

Amity hummed, frowning. She felt a little guilty at Luz’s praise, because she certainly was not here to talk to Lilith. 

“Come along then, Amity,” Lilith called as she walked out from behind the stand.

“Bye, Luz” she quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek before hurrying away to follow Lilith.

“See you tomorrow, Cariño~,“ she sang, waving. Eda rolled her eyes at the entire affair, but was grinning.

Amity followed Lilith silently until they were out of sight of Eda’s stand.

"I’m still mad at you…,” Amity grumbled.

“I know, and you have every right to be. Few people are as forgiving as Luz…” The former coven leader frowned.

They walked along quietly till they stopped in front of a stand selling fruits and vegetables.

Lilith eyed their wares before spotting a large bunch of Gorgon fruit, their pale violet skin sticking out among the other fruits. She dug through one of her pockets and handed over the appropriate amount of snails before picking them up and handing them to Amity, who blinked down at the fruit in her hands before looking back up at Lilith.

“I… hope someday, to actually earn Eda and Luz’s forgiveness for what I’ve done to them, and yours for what I did to you,” she said solemnly before turning and walking back to Eda’s stand without another word.

Amity watched as the elder Clawthorne sister disappeared in the crowded market.

She looked at the fruit in hand before turning and hurrying home.

~ ~

That night she stood in the kitchen a little frazzled. She had no idea if she was doing this right since she didn’t know what it was supposed to look or taste like. 

She carefully moved the popping and sizzling disks around in the oil as they cooked. While the skin of the fruit was a pale violet the flesh itself was white and turned golden brown as it cooked, filling the house with a delightful smell. 

Luckily for her both her parents were gone for the entire week, leaving the Blight children to their own devices, so she didn’t have to worry about any questions about what she was making or where she would be after school or Saturday evening.

On the other hand she still had to worry about…

“Whatcha’ cookin, Mittens?" 

"Smells good." 

The twins popped up over her shoulders, making her jump.

She scowled, glancing at them over her shoulder.

It was easier to just answer their questions and they often went on their merry way after they had their fill of harassing her.

“It’s called ‘tostones’ it’s one of Luz’s favorite foods from the human realm, I’m trying to recreate it for her.” She moved some of the disks out of the oil to a paper towl sitting on the counter and she quickly sprinkled them with salt.

“Aw, that’s sweet…” Emira cooed, pinching one of Amity’s cheeks only to have her hand swatted away with the spatula and a growl. 

“Oh, let us try!” Edric grabbed one of the disks, Amity didn’t try to stop him as he popped it into his mouth.

“Hot, Hot!” He smacked his mouth trying to bounce searing hot food off his tongue but didn’t take it out of his mouth. The sisters watched and shared a glance, the same deadpan expression on both their faces. 

“So hot…,” Ed whimpered, fanning his tongue with his hands while still chewing.

“Ed…” Emira shook her head with a sigh and Amity rolled her eyes. What she was planning wasn’t till Saturday, this was just a test batch and she would have offered her siblings some; after they had cooled.

“So good, but so hot…” Ed stuck out his now burnt tongue with a whine.

“Are they?” Amity turned to her first completed batch and picked one up, carefully blowing on it before popping it in her mouth.

The salt and fat melted on her tongue and the pleasant crunch followed by the soft mashed fruit inside made her hum; they were good.

Em followed her example, carefully cooling it before taking a bite.

“Oh, these are good, Mittens!” the older girl praised before popping the rest in her mouth.

“I hope it’s close enough to what her mom makes.” She chewed her lip worriedly. Even if they were good, the point was to try and give Luz one of her favorite foods, something that she’d lost with the portal’s destruction.

Edric and Emira shared a knowing look.

“I’m sure she’s gonna love it, sis.” Edric set a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, even if it’s not the exact same, Luz will appreciate the effort.” Emira squeezed her other shoulder.  

“Thanks…” Amity smiled, then caught sight of her brother reaching for another steaming hot tostone and slapped his hand.

“Ed!” Emira huffed.

“What? They’re good!” he whined.

“Just wait for them to cool off!” Amity scolded. 

~ ~ ~

By Friday Amity had decided she had perfected her Boiling Isles version of tostones as much as she was able, having never seen or tasted them herself. As well as having gathered together a few other foods and things needed for what she had planned for Saturday. 

She could tell that Luz was curious about what she was planning as they sat in what had become ‘their’ secret room, Luz leaning her head on Amity’s shoulder and peering up at her with large puppy eyes while she flipped through one of her text books.

“Just a hint?” she asked, making Amity roll her eyes fondly. 

“No,” she said for the third time that afternoon, flipping a page in her book.

“I hate surprises…,” Luz mumbled, crossing her arms but not removing her head from Amity’s shoulder.

“You love surprises, you just hate waiting for them.” Amity looked at her fondly, but exasperated. 

“Well, can’t argue with that…,” Luz hummed. “Should I bring or wear anything special?” she asked.

“Just yourself, however you want to come.” She smiled. “Don’t eat dinner,” she tacked on. It would ruin all her work for Luz to eat beforehand. 

“Even if I want to wear the otter costume?” Luz snickered, peeking up as Amity’s smile fell.

“If… you want…,” she said slowly. “But please don’t…,” she muttered under her breath, making Luz burst in giggles.

“I won’t, Cariño.” she promised, nudging Amity’s cheek with the top of her head and closing her eyes.

Amity paused, thinking.

“Luz?”

“Hmm?” 

“What does ‘Cariño’ mean?” she finally asked.

“Hm? Oh it means…” she paused, a sly look sliding into her face. “Tell me about Saturday and I’ll tell you what Cariño means,” she said and Amity pursed her lips, glaring down at Luz, who was looking up at her, grinning like the griffin that ate the pixie.

“I don’t wanna know then,” she huffed, turning her head.

“Aw, c'mon Amity!” Luz just laughed at her girlfriend’s puffed up cheeks.

They continued to poke and prod each other till Amity had to leave, with the promise of picking Luz up tomorrow night.

~ ~

Amity made her way toward the owl house with nervous excitement, the sun having just dipped below the horizon and the last rays of bright orange light were vanishing from the sky leaving the last bits of pale blue to soon give away to the deep blues and blacks of night.

Willow had just sent her a message on her scroll that she and Gus had finished their parts and were headed home.

She quickly typed back a reply, thanking them both for their help as she walked down the darkening path towards Luz’s house. 

She’d spent far too long digging through her closet when she had told Luz to just wear whatever she wanted. Her sister had come in at one point to help her sort through her wardrobe. She’d settled on a dark green plaid skirt and a long sleeved black shirt, her brooch pinned to it. 

She smiled as she adjusted it. She’d wear it everyday if she could.

The owl house came into view and Amity picked up the pace, hurrying to the front door. 

“Hi, Amity! Hoot hoot!”

Before she had to interact with the bird-tube the door flung open cutting off anything else Hooty might have said and Luz appeared, smiling brightly. 

She had obviously been waiting for her.

“Hey, Amity.” she stepped out of the doorway. “You look really nice.”

Heat bloomed across Amity’s face. She was never going to get used to Luz’s complements. 

“Thanks, so do you.” she glanced over her girlfriend, who grinned, and she did, in what she’d heard Luz call ‘jeans’ and a short sleeve blue and white striped shirt.

“I really wanted to wear the otter suit…,” she drawled, looking smug. “…but I figured since we’re doing something different I’d try to spice it up a little for you.” 

Amity rolled her eyes but smiled.

“I like it.” It was Luz’s turn to blush. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yup! See you later, Eda!” She shouted back into the house with Eda shouting back at them to be safe and then Luz stepped all the way out, closing the door behind her and reaching out to grab Amity’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Hoot, bye, Luz!” Hooty called. 

“So are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” Luz asked after a few minutes of walking through the slowly darkening woods.

“No, I’m going to show you.” She smiled, glancing at the human out of the corner of her eye. 

“Mysterious…” Luz smiled back.

When they were nearly there Amity dug her free hand into her pocket and came back with a bandana. “Put this on?” she asked.

Luz blinked at the bandana for a second before letting go of Amity’s hand just long enough to tie the bandana around her eyes. She groped around for Amity’s hand again, making the witch smile as she took it and led her the rest of the way.

“Are we there yet?” Luz asked when they stopped and Amity steeled herself, nodding but Luz couldn’t see it of course. 

“Yes”

Luz wasted no time whipping off her bandana and the moment her eyes blinked open she gasped. 

They were standing on the cliffside, in front of a large pink, leafed tree.

Their grom tree.

The air around the tree was filled with floating balls of light that lit the area and slowly shifted from one color to the next. Their light reflected off the tree’s leaves, casting everything in a shadow of pale pink as the last vestiges of light disappeared behind the ocean on the horizon. 

Sitting at the base of the tree was a checkered blanket laid out over the grass and what Luz could only guess to be the Boiling Isles version of a picnic basket. 

Amity dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt, waiting anxiously for Luz to speak, but she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“W-what do you think?” she asked, jerking Luz out of her stupor. She turned to Amity and blinked, mouth opening but no words coming out as so many rushed to the tip of her tongue at once.  She swallowed, trying to force a clam over herself long enough to speak but the hot feeling in her chest was overwhelming as she looked at her girlfriend in the low glowing lights as they floated around their heads.

“It’s amazing,” she finally managed to get out past dry lips. 

“Really?” Amity asked and Luz was reminded of the last time they had been here and she had asked her that, with the same hopeful lilt, after Luz had said she would go to Grom with her. She laughed at herself, if she had known then what she knew now…

“Yeah, everything is beautiful,” she spoke quietly, as though raising her voice would shatter the moment. Luz grabbed both Amity’s hands and held them firmly in her own. Amity’s face was hot, but she was getting used to that just being how it was going to be when they were together. 

“Gus and Willow helped…and I haven’t even shown you everything yet…” She tugged Luz over to the blanket and sat carefully while Luz plopped down beside her. “I wanted to try to make something you liked, but we don’t have the exact thing here on the Isles but I tried to make it as close as possible based on description,” she trailed off nervously. Luz looked at her with unabashed curiosity.

Luckily with a little magic they were still quite hot when she pulled the food out of the basket and held it up for Luz to inspect.

Brown eyes shot open wide as she looked at her girlfriend’s offering.

“Are those…,” she trailed off, hardly believing her eyes. It couldn’t be.

“We don’t have ‘plantains’ but I hope this version of tostones is close.” Amity held a hand out at the plate, motioning for Luz to try one.

With trembling fingers she picked one up and it was warm between her fingertips. She took a bite and immediately wanted to cry.

It was so, so good.

The flavor and texture was barely indistinguishable from her mom’s.

She looked back up at Amity, who had her hands fisted into her skirt, waiting on bated breath.

“It’s so good…” her voice trembled as she shoved the rest of it into her mouth, savoring every bite.

Amity’s tense shoulders pulled away from her ears and she smiled at Luz’s palpable joy, even though her eyes were a little glassy like she might cry at any moment. 

“I’m glad,” she said, drawing Luz’s attention back to her. 

That small, pleased smile lit up her whole face as the floating lights made her gold eyes shimmer.

“You…” Luz started, throwing out her hands and gesturing to everything. “Your…” she just couldn’t manage to get out the right words, she wasn’t even sure what the right words were. Everything was so beautiful and perfect and Luz didn’t think there were any words that could express that; she was overwhelmed. 

Where her mouth often failed her, her actions wouldn’t.

Luz shot forward, wrapping Amity in a tight hug and burying her face in her neck, making Amity squeak with surprise as Luz squeezed her, trying to convey everything she felt.

Amity hugged her back, smiling so hard it hurt but she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to.

After a long minute Amity finally pulled away.

“They’re going to get cold.” She grinned, and Luz needed no further prompting before shoveling some more into her mouth while she pulled the sandwiches she made out of the box and started to eat one, happy to let Luz have all of the tostones.

When all the food was gone Luz laid flat on her back on the blanket, more content then she could ever remember being.

Her stomach wasn’t the only thing that felt full though. She turned her head to gaze up at Amity as she sipped apple blood out of a small juice box, her heart felt fit to burst. 

Why had it taken her so long to see how amazing the girl in front of her was? 

Amity glanced at her and saw her staring and her cheeks turned that lovely shade of pink they always did when she caught her off guard; making her grin.

If she had only been less dense at Grom…

The sudden thought made Luz sit up.

“I have an idea!” She grinned, jumping up and dug her phone out of her pocket. She quickly scrolled through her playlist before hitting play on a song, and the soft sounds of a tinkling piano filled the air around them. She sat it on the roots and turned to Amity, holding out a hand.

“I know we technically danced at Grom, but maybe we could have a do over? Without the giant terror demon, and not as friends?” she asked. 

Amity blinked at the outstretched hand a moment before a soft smile broke out on her face and she slid her hand into Luz’s.

“I’d like that.”

Luz pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her waist, threading her fingers between Amity’s as the witch’s spare hand wrapped around her, her head laying on her shoulder.

They swayed in slow rhythm with the music, eyes closed, simply enjoying the moment. 

Luz idly wondered if witches had a higher body temperature than humans, because Amity was always warm to the touch. 

After several more songs had come and gone, she spoke.

"This was amazing… you shouldn’t have gone through so much trouble though…it’s just a month anniversary…”

“I wanted to. I wanted to do something for you…,“ Amity hummed, turning her head to bury her face in Luz’s neck. She always smelled like the forest in summer, warm and pleasantly earthy.

“I feel bad I didn’t do anything for you,” she mumbled into mint hair. She still wasn’t sure if it was perfume or shampoo that gave Amity her sweet, flowery scent, but it never failed to put Luz at ease.

“Don’t, I’m just happy to be here with you.” Was the quiet reply and again Luz felt her chest surge to the brim with emotion desperately looking for an escape, and it finally found it.

“I love you." 

The words came out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying them.

They both froze, Amity jerking back to look at her and both their faces were nearly glowing red as they looked at each other equally surprised, and immediately Luz began to stammer.

"I didn’t mean that! I- I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud!” She fumbled over her words as Amity continued to stare at her in absolute shock.

“What?” The witch managed to squeak, barely a whisper, and if possible, Luz turned even redder, her palms suddenly sweaty and surely Amity noticed that!

‘I… I didn't… I mean, it’s probably way too soon to be saying that, right!?“ Her voice pitched, much louder than necessary since they were still standing pressed against each other, faces only a few inches apart. She decided it was best for once to just shut up.

It felt like an eternity as gold eyes searched her bright red face.

Slowly, Amity began to shake her head.

"Maybe…,” she finally said, voice low and eyes never leaving Luz’s. “But, I love you too." 

Luz’s grip on her hand tightened as she stared back.

"Yeah?”

“Yeah" 

Luz swallowed thickly, suddenly quite aware of the fact that she hadn’t kissed Amity, really kissed her, since the masquerade. 

She gently pulled her fingers free from Amity’s to cup one of the witch’s red cheeks. 

Amity leaned into the touch, heart suddenly thundering in her chest and then Luz's lips were slotted across hers with a gentle pressure Amity was quick to return.

Neither pulled away till their lungs burned with a need for air, releasing each other with a quiet ‘pop’ and panting and before either had recovered Luz was kissing her again and Amity’s fingers were digging into her shirt, a small noise rising unbidden in her throat making Luz kiss her that much harder, the arm still wrapped around her waist tightened, pulling her in as close as physics would allow.

This kiss was so much more than the tentative ones they had shared in Amity’s room after the dance. It was charged and it made Amity’s knees weak.

She wouldn’t be able to stand, surely, if not for Luz holding her so tightly.

When they finally pulled apart neither said anything for a long time, staring at each other and trying to get their breathing back under control.

"Sweetie” Luz finally said, and before Amity could even think to ask what she meant, Luz went on. “Cariño, it means ‘sweetie’,” she explained. 

“Oh,” Amity mumbled, face still flushed as she panted.

Luz resisted the urge to kiss her again. Amity looked ready to pass out and she herself felt boneless.

“But maybe… I should be calling you ‘mi amor’ instead…,” she mumbled, watching the lights reflecting in the golden depths of Amity’s eyes. 

“What does that mean?” Amity whispered, her already white-knuckled grip on Luz tightening.

“My love." 

~ ~ ~

I’m a romantic sap, what can I say?

Also i just like to write about them dancing.

@tri-chan inspired me.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas  {{ December 21 }}

Christmas tree shopping, ornament making, and decorating reveal some unresolved feelings...

The rest of the chapter after the break:

The door slammed open, clattering against the wall harshly.  Kaiba blinked in the bright light from the hallway, headache blooming at his forehead.

“Atticus wants you to come shopping for a Christmas tree.”  Joey announced, slamming a thermos of coffee and a small bottle of Tylenol on the side table.  The clattering noise was calibrated to exacerbate Kaiba’s hangover, and from the way his eyes squeezed shut, it worked.  “You left some stuff, I stuck it in the guest room closet, so help yourself.”

Joey tried to lower his voice as deeply as possible, make it sound as truly menacing as he could, but the follow up sentence, “Waffles are ready,” just didn’t sound very scary.

For his part, Kaiba just rubbed at his eyes.

When Kaiba rolled into the kitchen forty-five minutes later, he looked completely put together.  The picture of a man who could compartmentalize absolutely everything that had ever happened to him.

As he wandered toward the plate of waffles, Joey could feel the ghost of years past.  Of Seto wandering over, pecking a kiss to his cheek on his way to the coffee machine.

Instead he watched his ex-husband greet the kids and collect the plate set out for him at the counter.  Just the waffle and a bit of butter—no syrup, nothing sweet.  Kaiba sliced into the waffle surgically, and swallowed a small bite of it.  From the look on his face, he was too hungover and sick to really eat.

“Tell your Oto-san to eat his breakfast,” Joey said, pouring a glass of orange juice on the corner of the counter.

Kaiba sent Joey a death glare as Atticus announced that he had just the song.  As Atticus launched into the highly repetitive “Breakfast Song”—an independent composition—Kaiba winced as if he had taken a thousand life points of damage in a shadow game.

The thermos of coffee stayed in Kaiba’s hand as he wove through the driveway.  One of his cars had been left at the house—a black Mercedes that he had no real attachment to.  Kaiba must have tracked down the spare key from the hooks on the wall of the garage.  Kaiba was looking back towards the garage, as if he had a say in the matter.

Joey honked the horn of the minivan, startling his ex-husband and drawing another full body flinch from the man.

“I’m not movin’ Alexis’ car seat! Get in.”  Joey shouted out the window.  Kaiba revived his glare, only to lose it to a frustrated wince as Joey slammed on the horn again.

Kaiba froze, coffee “I swear,” Kaiba said, his voice menacing.  “She’s six, she doesn’t need a car seat.”

“Look, it’s a height thing now.  Ya can’t fire me, Kaiba, so unless ya got other plans, get in the car.”  He punctuated this demand with another ear-scorching honk.

Grasping at the last threads of his dignity, Kaiba straightened his back, schooled his face with as much focus as he could bear, and strode over to the minivan door.

Kaiba flung it open with a theatrical flair that would be more appropriate on a blimp than a minivan.

Joey opened his mouth to deliver an admittedly tepid comment—he was thinking “look who decided to join us”—but he was silenced by the kids cheering when Kaiba sat down in the car.

“Oto-san, can we listen to the Chipmunks Christmas?!” Atticus pleaded from the backseat.  

Joey didn’t bother holding back laughter and Kaiba clenched his jaw and nodded.

. . .

The adventure at the Christmas Tree farm started relatively smooth and uneventful.  Atticus and Alexis were good kids, even if Atticus could be a little loud and demanded a lot of attention, and Alexis was a bit shy.

For his part, Kaiba did an excellent job of standing and observing the process.  With stoicism, he posed at the back of the family and watched as Joey picked a tree, earned the approval of the kids, and tried to chop it down with the farm-provided axe on his own.

Tree chopping was harder than anticipated, and Joey’s struggles were equal parts frustrating and humiliating.

Kaiba couldn’t hold back a snicker, about 15 minutes into Joey’s battle with the tree.   But that was his miscalculation: the perfect opening for Joey to shoot back, “You think yer so strong, pretty boy?  Give it a go.”  And Joey all but tossed the axe in his ex’s direction.  Joey could have used a better, safer and more careful form when he handed his ex-husband the axe, but he was trying to catch his breath, and the haughty bastard had goaded him with that laugh.  Kaiba caught it easily anyway.

“Step back,” Seto announced, as if he was about to perform a magic trick.  The rest of the family formed a slightly more distant semi-circle.

Kaiba posed, axe high behind his back.  He made brief eye-contact with Joey before hefting a massive swing. The arc was long and graceful, and bit into the tree-bark savagely.  It took Joey’s four-inch indent and turned it into eight-inches, fully three-quarters of the way through the tree.

Kaiba smiled, pleased with his work.

“Alright,” Joey offered after a few seconds.  “Now, you pull it out.”  Joey resisted making any further innuendoes in front of the kids.

Kaiba nodded and reached for the axe.  It didn’t budge.  He adjusted his feet in the snow to gain more purchase—to no avail.  He lodged one foot against the tree, and still the leverage was insufficient.  It was as if the tree had accepted the axe as a new branch, and wouldn’t let go.

Kaiba pulled out his phone and started tapping.

“You lookin’ up how to get an axe out of a tree?” Joey challenged.

“No.”

“Oh my god are you trying to buy a better axe? And have it air dropped or something?”

Kaiba’s clever, snarky glance up from his phone told Joey exactly everything he didn’t need to know.  “Would the children have any interest in owning a Christmas tree farm?”

“No!” Joey jumped over, moving to try and steal back Kaiba’s phone before he could pull whatever insane business move required to buy out the family-owned farm.

Kaiba had been a capable “keep-away” player for decades, and hadn’t seemed to allow his skills to get rusty in the intervening period.

Joey still had some signature moves—and certainly could have brought the taller man to his knees if he had a yo-yo on him.

As it stood, the side tackle that Joey settled on was perfectly effective.  They rolled in the snow a bit, Kaiba able to twirl and pass the phone between his hands deftly and Joey ready to brute force the situation.  He had no qualms with getting snow in his ex-husband’s hair or up his nose.

What was surprising was when Kaiba stopped fighting.  He had been pinned down pretty well, back digging into snow, wrists held by Joey’s determined fingers as if handcuffed over his head, flakes stuck to his eyelashes and drenching his scarf.  Joey had one knee jamming Kaiba’s thighs into the ground.

Joey paused with those hands in his vice grip, feeling Kaiba’s muscles relax under his hands. The palms were facing him, and they were empty.  The only metal that Joey could see was the one thing he had longed to forget—Kaiba was still wearing his wedding ring.

“Is that?” Joey asked softly.

Kaiba had been baring a smug smile at Joey, confident in his plan to abscond with the phone—even in the compromised position.  That smile vanished at Joey’s question.

“I didn’t want to field any questions as to whether we were… I wanted it to be clear that we’re both their dads.”  Kaiba should have blushed, but he didn’t.  Instead he looked wild and scared, like he had been caught in a terrible lie.

Joey drew a slow breath, processing the information as the ice melted on Kaiba’s face.

“Oto-san!  I got the phone!” Atticus cheered, waving the slim black device in the air, instantly breaking the tension.

“Excellent execution,” Kaiba said, moving one powerful thigh to dislodge Joey’s entire hold.  He went tumbling back into the snow, and Kaiba stood up and straightened himself.  He held out his hand expectantly, and Atticus handed him the phone.

“How attached are you to this specific tree?” Kaiba asked Alexis, with the same intensity he would levy a question at a board meeting.

With the same seriousness that Kaiba had summoned, Alexis responded ,“I have no attachment to this tree.”

“Atticus?”

The boy shrugged.  Kaiba nodded.  “Then we will acquire another tree by alternative means.”  Kaiba tapped at the screen a few times.  “Any objections?”

This question was directed at Joey who also shrugged.  Joey eyed the axe, buried deep in the trunk of the tree.  It was not promising.

“What’s next on the holiday itinerary?” Kaiba asked, as if he was going to complete the Christmas activity list with the same ruthless efficiency he took to the business world.

“Decorating ornaments.”

. . .

It’s not just that it was fun to watch Kaiba struggle with things—though Joey thought it usually was—but his ex-husband, eyes narrowed in concentration, brows strung in frustration, long fingers dripping golden glitter glue…

Joey could have laughed the entire time.

Atticus had nicely decorated a music note.  He had diligently written the year and his name and his age on the thin piece of wood, and then doodled colorful lines around it.  Alexis had decorated a ballet slipper with surprisingly delicate shading and the same information.

Joey was relatively pleased with his own decoration: a nicely colored-in icon of the Time Wizard, with the same information.  He had hesitated to put his age, but it was tradition, and Alexis would surely bust him for breaking the rules.

But Kaiba had to be ambitious.  Usually his abilities could keep up with his formidable plans.  But this year’s image of the Thousand Dragon had not gone according to plan.  He had foolishly done the Blue Eyes White Dragon for the first year, and burned through it’s permutations by the time they finalized the divorce.

The underlying coloring wasn’t terrible—and the silhouette of a dragon was distinct enough that he couldn’t quite make it unrecognizable.  But the glitter glue gambit hadn’t paid off.  Instead of an extra level of pizazz, the glue had chemically interacted with the ink of the pens underneath.

Like a craft drawer Icarus that had flown too close to the sun, the careful coloring underneath melted into an absolute mess, blurring the relevant information, as well as the face of the dragon.  The whole work turned into a muddled, blotchy, glittering thing.  Yellows and marigolds combining to look more like a splotchy watercolor, but it lacked intention or grace.

Joey’s smile was wide and his jaw was clenched from the effort of not laughing at Kaiba’s very sad ornament.  “You can go back to the craft store and get a new blank one,” Joey managed to eek out, with only minimal giggles spilling into his speech.

“It’s…” Kaiba pushed at the glue with a sticky fingertip, as if he could reset the colors by sheer force of will.  “I will… write the information the back.”  Kaiba flipped the ugly ornament directly on the disposable plastic table cover, glitter glue oozing out.  He wrote his name in Japanese characters, and the date.

“It doesn’t look like a dragon, Oto-san,” Atticus protested.  “You have to try again!”

Kaiba nodded, and affixed two googly eyes to the head.

Joey completely lost it at the plain wooden outline of a dragon, wings stretched, blank except for the name, date, and age on it’s belly, glitter glue leaking from under it, as if wounded, and two plastic google eyes quivering as the table shook with his laughter.

Joey thought he spotted a soft smile on Kaiba’s face, but by the time he caught his breath again, it was gone.

. . .

Joey tried to push down the warmth in his chest that swelled when he saw Kaiba wrapped around the tree, diligently stringing holiday lights.  True to his word, he had an assistant from Kaiba Corp. USA’s New York branch sent out on an emergency hunt for the perfect tree.  Without much thought, by the time the family had made it home from the Upstate adventure and trip to the craft store, a tree was already staged in their house—perfectly conical and even.  As flawless as plastic, but full of that distinct pine scent.

Putting lights on the tree had been an intuitively “Kaiba” sort of activity.  He was taller, more electrically inclined, and better suited to the less nostalgic Christmas elements.  Although Joey had handled the task just fine, Kaiba’s persnickety nature did contribute to him spreading the lights evenly and nicely.  It was sort of frustrating for Joey to see the lights look so smooth and flawlessly distributed.  Especially when two years ago they had looked so uneven.

The off-year, when Kaiba had the kids for the winter holiday, Joey hadn’t bothered with any of his own decorations.  He had just visited his sister’s place, skyped with the kids, and moped.  He’d fallen asleep watching “Elf” alone on the couch.  It ranked high on his list of worst Christmases ever.  

Joey wondered a little, while Seto fought with the fragrant pine-needle branches, whether this would top the list of worst holidays.  Somehow, already, it didn’t feel like a bad holiday at all.

Joey held out a warm mug to Seto, once his task was finished.  It was one of the older ones, white with that navy-blue KC logo imprinted, but faded over the years.  

Kaiba raised his hand to reject the offering.  “I’m avoiding processed sugars. Last night was an exception, not the rule.”

Joey rolled his eyes.  “Trust me, if you’re going to sit through any of tonight’s concert, you’ll appreciate the… heh… innovation.”

With a skeptical look at the hot chocolate and half-melted marshmallows, Kaiba reluctantly accepted the mug.  He took a slow sip, before his eyebrows raised, recognizing the heroic volume of Baileys that had been surreptitiously mixed in.  Kaiba nodded in approval.  “I stand corrected.”

Indeed, the adulterated cocoa was fully drained over the course of Atticus’s hour long performance of every Christmas song he knew, plus a few piano remixes of various children’s show theme songs, and an original composition which was actually just smashing on the keys and smiling.

Kaiba remained steadfastly bound to the couch while Joey and Alexis actually placed all of the ornaments, whispering about what should go where.  A few times, Joey looked over, just to see if Kaiba had left.  Instead, he stayed, eyes darkened by some unknowable emotion.  When the concert was over, and Joey and Alexis’s task was finally complete, the three stepped back to turn off the overhead lights and bask in the eclectic glory of the tree.

Only then had Kaiba vanished.

. . .

Joey wandered into Kaiba’s study.  After the last night’s stunt, he expected to see the decanter open on the coffee table.

Instead, Kaiba was illuminated by his laptop, the rhythm of his typing on the keyboard sounding just a little like music.  “What do you want?” Kaiba asked, not looking up from his computer.

“I—” Joey shrugged, flopping down on the chair opposite Kaiba.  “I want to talk, I guess.”  

“About what?” Kaiba asked, though it didn’t quite come out like a question.  There was not a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Us.”  Joey looked over at Kaiba.  “You’re wearing the ring, Kaiba.” Kaiba looked down at his own hand, as if he had forgotten that he’d put it on and failed to take it off.

“Yeah.  And we were outside: there’s no blizzard anymore, Kaiba.  It blew over last night.  I’m no meteorologist, but you’re definitely cleared to fly.”  Joey placed his hands on his hips, pleased with his own argument.

“The ring was unrelated,” Kaiba said, emotionless, glued to the computer screen.  Joey rolled his eyes.  “And the children have expressed that they’d like me to stay for the holiday.  If you will not allow me to, that is a different matter.”

“Of course you can stay, but we need to talk about us.  What’s going on here, Kaiba?”

“You’ve made it clear, enough times, that you don’t want me, not in the way that I want you,” Kaiba added, typing speed not diminished in the slightest.  “None of that has changed, like you said.  And so I don’t know why you are bothering me, now.”

Jou shifted slightly in his chair, his stomach tuning over.  Sitting next to Kaiba hadn’t given him this sort of anxiety for so long, maybe ever.  He was used to hot anger, coursing through his veins, pooling in his fists.  This uneasy détente felt simultaneously unsustainable and like the exact tar pit they’d been drowning in for the last three years.

“I don’t know that I meant that.  I mean, yeah, in the moment, I meant it.  But,” Joey leaned back, trying to reposition himself so that he might be more comfortable.  There didn’t seem to be any decent way to sit in his own damn chair.  “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all.  A little.  Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Kaiba’s typing speed finally slowed, acquiescing to the intensity of the conversation.  Frankly, as Kaiba drew one hand to seal the lid of his laptop, Joey was willing to call that a change.  He hadn’t even had to literally ask Kaiba to stop working.  “Jounouchi.  Tell me what you want to hear.”

“Fine.” Joey straightened his shoulders.  “I want to know what happened when you went back to Domino.”

There was a long pause.

“I stayed on Mokuba’s couch for three months.” Kaiba crossed his arms defensively.

Joey burst out with warm laughter.  Kaiba didn’t blush, but he raised an eyebrow, as if to signal his ex-husband was not being the image of social grace.  Maybe he’d forgotten to whom he was married.

“And how’d he like that?” Joey said as his breathing steadied.

“He liked it fine.  He has always appreciated my cooking.  His fiancé did not.”

And like that, Joey was lost in another cacophony of giggles.  “Why didn’t you go back to the manor?”

Kaiba looked away, suddenly fascinated by the crystal decanter that had returned to the end table.  “It was… uncomfortable, after all this time.  After Mokuba’s partner made her opinion clear—”

“God, I can only imagine what the arguments were like,” Joey smiled again, bright as sunshine.

“It was not pleasant.  Obviously, my brother and I are still very close, but there were certain problems that arose—”

Joey leaned back in the chair, and balanced his feet on the coffee table.  To the untrained observer, it could have been mistaken for casual.  But all of the muscles of his legs were tense, the tendons that collided with the table strung like the strong of a bow.  “I bet I can guess: you show up at 2 am, you make whatever noise you’re gonna make with no regard for anyone sleeping, you sleep in all day after a couple of all-nighters unpredictably—”

“Yes,” Kaiba said, his voice somewhat soured.  “Everything that you hate about me, unsurprisingly was also loathsome to Yui.”

“That’s not… Kaiba its not things I hate about you,” Joey shifted again in the chair, picking at his nailbeds.  He looked as if he had been called into the principal’s office again after a fight.  “It’s shit that you do, that you choose to do, that’s disrespectful to the people around you.  I’m glad to hear that Yui didn’t take it.”

“After a time, you didn’t either, right?”  Kaiba responded, the sadness seeping in a little.  From the longing glance he shot at the whiskey, the allure of the crystal decanter was strong; the urge to not deal with his ex-husband in this mood, fully sober, was perhaps stronger.

But there was something about Joey’s words that seemed to put up a forcefield around the bottle.  “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all.  A little.  Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Joey rolled his eyes, pressing fast-forward on the tired argument.  “That wasn’t all of it, and we both know that you know better.  But just tell me what else happened.”

Kaiba’s sour expression and defensive posture continued.  “After that, I got an apartment near the office.  I only used the manor in the Summer, when the children came to visit.”  Kaiba eyed that bottle once more.  “It was disconcerting to be there alone.  I thought… that this is what he must have… felt like.”

As if saying his name would have brought him into their life, awakened some other dormant form of him trapped between this world and the Hell he so surely belonged in.

They sat there, soaking in the ghosts of the past a little longer.  Joey wasn’t going to say anything to break the silence—he knew from experience that with enough stubbornness, Seto would eventually be forced to say something to change the subject or actually talk about his feelings.

After just a couple of minutes, Joey was proven right.

“Are you really happy working at the daycare?” Kaiba asked.

“How did you—” It was only natural that Kaiba would have Joey at a loss again.

“Yugi is a game developer, you know that he collaborates with Kaiba Corp.  We talk… sometimes,” Kaiba said, feigning nonchalance.  It was not persuasive.  Kaiba’s intensity for everything was too strong.  Joey was quite certain he’d never had a casual interest in his entire life.

“Yeah.  Things are good,” Joey answered the original question.

Kaiba nodded at the input and reopened the laptop.  The glare illuminated the wire framed lenses, hiding any expression within his eyes.  “I’m getting back to work.”

Joey considered putting up a fight.  But it had been a long enough day.  In a move reminiscent of his ex, he rose from his seat wordlessly and went his own way.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Ten

Clint trailed after you through the woods, idly reflecting that Lucky would be in doggie heaven with all the smells to smell and shit to chase. He wondered if he could have Nat bring him. But then, he didn’t want to bring more people here. He wanted you to himself. He wanted to coax you into coming home. To do that, you needed time. Time and some distance. 

Not, Clint thought to himself, that that was a bad thing. You knew what you needed better than he did. And, well. He definitely did not mind sleeping with you on his chest at night and wandering the woods with you when you got the itch to ramble. He liked it out here. It was different from the BFE of his childhood. 

And until now, he never thought he’d want this. The quiet domesticity of it. A creaky old house and a pretty girl to bring him coffee in the morning. “Y/N?” he asked panting, “Where the fuck are we going?”

You stop, leaning on your staff, “The caves,” you answer, smiling a little.

“You own fucking caves too?” he says, hurrying to catch up to them.

“Why do you think I bought this piece of property?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

Clint takes a drink of water and gives you a crooked smile, “It’s out of the way?”

“It’s out of the way, and was prime ground for bootleg hooch during Prohibition... The caves are man-made but with a little alteration I could make it work.”

“Work for what?” he says, catching up to you. 

You don’t answer but you do smile at him. And for a moment, Clint wonders what he’s gotten himself into. But still. As he followed you through the woods, he didn’t mind that either. You were magic. Everything about this piece of property had a palpable sense of otherness. It feels like it’s own universe, but then. That doesn’t surprise him either. This is where you go to hide. It makes sense that you’d arrange it to your liking. Especially when you tend to live and work in an environment that isn’t suited to you with all it’s concrete and lack of privacy. 

Clint can only hear his own footsteps. You slide through the brush like a ghost. Like you do on marble floors and carpet. It’s a common thing in the tower for someone to threaten to put a bell around your neck. And an even more common thing to have you fight rookies in a dark room to make them rely on more than their ears. They only do it once, but after that they get a lot more attentive. When you finally stopped walking in front of a cave, Clint whistled softly. “Neat,” he said walking closer, “This is man-made?”

You nod, “Yeah... A happy accident really. Whoever surveyed the shit for the realtor missed it or I would have NEVER afforded it.”

“Nice,” he said grinning.

You nod, smiling a little, “C’ mon,” you say, leading him inside, “I’ve gotta check on everything.”

Clint gestures for you to go ahead. Trying to remember how to be respectful of wards and things. But, when he crosses the threshold for just a second, he’s frankly in awe.

He can see what you meant by “A little Alteration” but, he’s shocked at the level of craft in all of it. It looks like a planetarium. With a waterfall. And exotic plants. And everywhere he looks there are shelves lined with books.

“A fucking water fall?” Clint yelped. “How!”

You smile up at him, kneeling to check on a plant, “Magic, Clint.”

“How deep is that little pool at the bottom?” he asks.

“Deep enough,” you say fondly.

“Really? Can I?” he says, excited.

You nod, “Have at it,” you tell him.

Clint doesn’t need telling twice, stripping out of his shirt and climbing up the rocks as quickly as he can pick a path. You half turn to watch him jump in and give him a small round of applause. 

“What’d the judges say?” he yelled.

“Amature Bullsiht,” you tease, “Weren’t you in the circus? Isn’t there supposed to be some pizazz?”

“Fuck you,” he says, swimming to the edge, “My form was impeccable.”

“No pizzaz, sorry,” you tell him, smirking.

“Pizzaz? You want pizzaz?” he grouses, climbing out to climb back up the rocks to jump again. You stay knelt at the edge, watching expectantly. And Clint, Bless him, does give you your required entertainment factor as he leaps off the rocks and does a flip before flipping you off.

“Beautiful,” you call giggling when he comes up sputtering. 

Clint swims back to the edge and grins up at you, “Come swim with me?” he says.

“Clint-”

“Oh come on,” he pouts, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you half-naked before. And don’t get me wrong... I appreciate the view, but really. It just gets boring swimming alone.” He can tell he pushed too hard when you look away and softens, hauling himself up to kiss your cheek. 

“I don’t really feel like swimming,” you tell him. Bucky’s voice in the back of your head telling you no one wanted you.

“Then you don’t have to,” he soothed, “But I really wish you would.” He’d love to rough house with you. To do all the splashing and giggling. But this place wasn’t a water park. It was a sanctuary. And it was yours. He was a guest here. So when you shake your head again, he kisses your nose and smiles. “Okay,” he murmurs. 

You get up and lay towels where he can get to them before padding off to check on other things. Clint watched you for a moment, floating on his back in the perfect temperature water and watching the ceiling. Stars floated by on the ceiling, drifting to their positions as of the time of day. A facsimile moon steadily rising and filling in but... that tells him nothing about the time. Not that he cares. It feels comfortable. 

Still, eventually, he climbs out and towels off, “This place is incredible,” he says, “But what is it?”

You shrug, “An archive. An extra layer of security. It’s on a ley line so... I could stay here forever if I needed to.”

Clint nods, “Thank you,” he says, kissing your temple, “For brining me.”

“You’re the first,” you tell him, smiling a little.

“Really?” he asked.

You nod, thinking. Clint fit here. But in your mind’s eye, you couldn’t see Bucky here. In fact, your wards probably wouldn’t have let him through. No one who had any ill intent could get through. And you knew Clint didn’t. His intentions were clear. 

___________

When Clint wakes up alone in the middle of the night, he looks for you frantically for a minute, fixing his hearing aids in place as he goes room to room. 

You’re gone. Just gone. So he bursts outside to check the grounds. The barn, the shed. and then, coming around the corner of the house, he sees you. In the pond, wading into the water. He stops short when he realizes two things. One, that you’re perfectly fine, and two, you are very naked. Skin glowing in the full moonlight. His mouth goes dry and he takes a deep breath. It looks like a scene from a movie or something. It makes him feel light-headed and he wants to creep closer for a better look. He wants to sneak back into the house and give you privacy. But he’s stuck, staring. Aching to touch you. To show you what it feels like to have someone love you like you deserve. 

But when you start to turn towards him, he bolts. Acutely aware that staring at you is creepy and he needs to leave. He needs to stop doing it and respect whatever it is you’re doing. 

Still, when he gets in the house, even a cold shower can’t do anything for him. And he hates it. He feels like a stupid kid again. A stupid kid backstage at the circus with a crush on a pretty red-headed sword swallower. He feels even more stupid adjusting the temperature of the water and thinking about you. About the things, he wanted to do with you. The way you'd sound crying out for more. Whimpering his name. He’s ashamed of himself honestly when he finds release. But he has to admit that he feels better. Like he can go back to sleep.

But he doesn’t. 

He waits until he hears you in your bathroom, right before dawn. Then gets back out of bed and goes to fix you... something.

“Clint?” he hears from the kitchen door.

“I-I- I woke up and you were gone,” he starts.

You sigh, “I- had a nightmare,” you explain, “I didn’t want to wake you up trying to get back to sleep.”

He nods, feeling like a bigger asshole, “So I looked for you,” he said blushing scarlet, “And well I- I found you.”

Your cheeks heat and he swallows hard, “Sorry- I - I didn’t I mean I didn’t stay but- and I didn’t mean to. I left.”

You nod, “It’s okay- sorry. I was too hot.”

“I’ll say,” he blurts out.

And even as your cheeks burn, you giggle.

______________

Clint leans on the railing, watching you lock the door.  “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks, “We don’t have to go back yet.”

You nod and look around, “I mean, I have to go back sometime.”

“But now?” he asks, cupping your chin in his hand.

You nod again and he pulls you close.

“I’ll be right next to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He isn’t sure how to define this relationship. It feels like dating. It feels like love. But he’s not kissed you since he kissed you to stop you talking. And every night in your bed were chaste, soft cuddles. But he didn’t care. It felt good. It felt right. Somehow physically more intimate than if he had had you riding his dick every night. He figures that this defies explanation and... honestly. For right now he likes it this way. More than friends and less than lust. That he can deal with. 

And. To top it off. You’re coming home.

Tags:

@lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

[littlemisssquiggles]

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar Gets A Scroll

So quite a few things were teased during the first episode of V7 including the prospect of Oscar training privately with a certain individual while his friends are off on their own training missions. That being said, if this is indeed going to be the case and Oscar is carded to have his own separate development outside of JNR_RWBY for the first half of V7, this squiggle meister has only one request to tie this predicament together perfectly.

Oscar MUST receive his very own Scroll which he then uses to remain in close contact with JNR_RWBY, mainly Ruby who acts as his key liaison.

[Spoilers Ahead]

I’m praying that Oscar being trained by Ironwood doesn’t fall into the same outdated habit of the Writers omitting him from opportunities to gain a genuine connection with the group. No offense to the CRWBY Writers (particularly Miles and Kerry who were responsible for V5 and V6) but if I’m being completely honest here, at times I have a hard time grasping the believability that Oscar is meant to be part of the heroes.

Don’t get me wrong. I want more than anything for Oscar to be a part of the group. But at the same time I also want him to feel as if he has become a part of team of his own merits and as an audience member, I don’t think the Writers have done a good job of handling his integration into the hero team in previous seasons. 

For most of V5, Oscar was treated as a shadow to Ozpin who took up most of his screen time including one scene I was really, really hoping the Writers would’ve included Oscar in. It’s the dinner scene from V5 C7 where RNJR are catching up with Weiss and Yang.

It still bothers me that we didn’t get to see Oscar officially meet Yang and Weiss and actually play a part in all the reminiscing of the good ole days of Beacon plus shenanigans. I understand that Oscar was the new kid so it would’ve been weird to have him be there while JNR and RWY walk down memory land. But at the same times, that’s exactly why I wanted him to be there. It would’ve been cool to see how Oscar would’ve reacted to hearing all the stories of JNR_RWY’s past adventures in Vale.

I understand that Oscar also needed to converse with Qrow, cause of Ozpin. However it would’ve cool if that bit was shortened so he could’ve later joined the others and have Ruby and JNR properly introduce him to Weiss and Yang.

Seriously, it really bothered me how we got this nice dinner scene with everyone eating and Oscar is just off elsewhere inside his own head cause I’m sure Oz would’ve taken over to talk to Qrow about his findings in Mistral.

Just imagining Oscar playing silent audience to Ozpin and Qrow; not even getting to taste some of the delicious food that RNJR prepared while all the ‘cool kids’ were off laughing over a hearty meal while he’s stuck listening in on the adults. And what sucks even more is that he can’t even tell anyone else what he heard or knew from what Qrow and Oz discussed. Not like he tried, 

That’s kind of maddening when I think about it. And don’t even get me started on the completely botched way the Writers dared to shoehorn in the group coming to see Oscar as part of the team in V6 by having Jaune come to realize that Oscar is important to the team…by having him come to this realization without even sharing a heart to heart with Oscar. 

Other things were focused on for that episode. Other things the Writers claimed to be more important than concluding the discourse they sparked between two of our main characters in the last episode…by NOT actually having them talk to each other but somehow still reach the same conclusion. Oof...that plot development still stings for me. 

I think one of these fine days I’m going to have to write a more in-depth post to justify my eternal disdain towards the ninth episode of V6. You guys have heard me voice my opinions of it now and again; most of them negative. But I really had a lot of problems with that episode. Issues that I still very much have even after all this time and have actively contributed to my concern for Oscar’s writing going forward in V7. Or rather the treatment of his writing and character overall.

I guess part of the reason why I’m hoping Oscar getting a Scroll is a canonical thing is because it’s the one way I can see him remaining close to JNR_RWBY as they all go their separate ways temporarily. It’s also the one sure sign that will highlight to me that Oscar’s growing friendship with the group will be maintained and continue to grow even in distance.

Since if JNR_RWBY will be off out in the field on training missions around Solitas with the Ace Ops, I’m assuming Oscar will remain up in Atlas main kingdom with General Ironwood who will personally be overseeing to his own training.

 If that is the case and Oscar is to be separated from the group a little bit, I hope him remaining in contact constantly with everyone is a sure thing that’s actually shown in the show. I really hope it’s not another V5 bit where the rest of the heroes are one place doing their thing and acting like there isn’t a newest young member whose been added to their ranks while Oscar in turn is off doing his own thing while not bothering to maintain the friendship and team comradery he (supposedly) built up with everyone in V6.

I know it’s only been 48 or 49 days total since Oscar joined the heroes and while he still has much more growing to do, he’s still a part of the team. Allegedly. That’s how the Writers want me to feel. I just don’t want Oscar’s relationship with Ironwood to become like how things were when Ozpin was around. Oz was off being elusive with adults while poor Oscar played tag along…in his own freaking body.

I just hope the Writers don’t neglect the small development they made with Oscar being on the team without Oz in V6. Oscar is a part of the team now. Let him maintain that, please. Don’t have him ghost JNR_RWBY while they in turn act like he doesn’t exist either.

I guess the point I’m mainly getting at here is that I just want to see Oscar and JNR_RWBY keep each other updated on their respective progress as they move forward with their own individual training moments, if you know what I’m saying. I don’t know the extent to which JNR_RWBY will remain apart from Oscar.

I’d imagine they’d be staying wherever the Ace Ops are staying since they’re supposed to be working with them. Oscar on the other hand mind stay with Ironwood wherever he lives which could be...interesting. Hence why I like the thought of Oscar finally having his own Scroll.

Since Ruby is currently the closest person to Oscar as a friend amongst the heroes, I’m picturing Ruby exchanging contact info with Oscar the instant he gets his own Scroll. From there, Ruby and Oscar keep in constant communication with one another.

Ruby updates Oscar on how everyone is progressing out with the Ace Ops while Oscar in turn updates Ruby on how he’s going with Ironwood (and maybe Qrow).

I just really, really like the idea of a potential scene where Ruby calls Oscar after she and the others have finished a mission and the two spend hours on a video-call with Ruby giving Oscar an epic recap of all that went down on the mission, in meticulous detail and with jubilant exaggeration, much to Oscar’s entertainment on the other end.

As the younglings of the group, I figured the Rosebuds would at least keep in constant communication as much as they could afford; whether it’s via text or instant messaging or video calls when they’re available at the same time.

I even have this cute idea where Ruby and Oscar often exchange ‘selfies’ with each other---y’know Ruby takes captioned snapshots from their missions to send over to Oscar while he in turn sends the occasional snapchat too;; although not as good as Ruby.

I’m in favour of Oscar being technologically inept, coming from a farm bred background. Either that or Oscar is just sort of like a lost little lamb when it comes to operating a standard Scroll leading to comical moments where Ruby has to play his guiding shepherd to help the precious freckled farm boy understand the techno-stuff he’s not used to.

I just hope that if my assumption is true and JNR_RWBY and Oscar are indeed divided for a while due to their different training regiments that the show at least indicates a sign that the Rosebuds frequently keep each other abreast of their respective affairs.

I would gladly take a small moment where Ruby is about to join everyone on embarking on their very first training mission with the Ace Ops, only to receive a video call from Oscar wishing her and everyone good luck just before they jump out of the airships.

Later we can then have a follow-up parallel where Oscar is on break from one of his training sessions with Ironwood only to soon answer a call from Ruby. That’s all I need. Just two scenes to establish that these two kiddos still remain close and communicate a lot during their training. As a matter of fact, it’d be ten times more adorable if they did do that

Also if Oscar gets a Scroll, I’m praying that his official Scroll handle is ‘Cute Boy Oz’. I couldn’t help but noticed that Ruby’s Scroll handle for Jaune was ‘Vomit Boy’ in V6 as a callback to his nickname dubbed by Yang (I think) from way back in Volume 1.

Since Oscar keeping the “Cute Boy Oz” has been established twice between V5 and V6, as dubbed by Nora, I hope it’s a nickname that sticks with him and that’s the handle Ruby uses for Oscar on her Scroll.

Like picture another moment where someone---probably one of the Ops members Ruby befriended---indicates to her that her Scroll was ringing, remarking confusedly that someone called ‘Cute Boy Oz’ was trying to get her, only for Ruby to jubilantly announce that was Oscar before hastily taking the call with her favourite farm boy.

I mean ‘Farm Boy’ can also work as a decent Scroll handle for Oscar too but it doesn’t have the extra pizazz as ‘Cute Boy Oz’. Besides, I really want that pet name for Oscar to stick with him forever to the point that it becomes an inside joke between him and his teammates/friends that’s as immortal as he is.

Like just imagine, years down the line after Salem is defeated, when Oscar is a grown ass man and his closest peeps, particularly Nora and Ruby (who’d possibly be his wife at this point) still call him ‘Cute Boy Oz’.  But it’s mostly Nora. Kinda like how Toph Beifong still called Aang by her ‘Twinkletoes’ nickname for him in the Legend of Korra despite both being adults in their 40s.

I can just see that being a thing too for Nora and Oscar as part of their long-standing friendship. Like imagine  a dialogue exchange between a 44-year-old Nora Valkyrie and a 40 year-old Oscar Pine be like:

Nora: C’mon. Let’s go check in on the old gang Cute Boy Oz.

Oscar: *pouting* Nora, I’m 40 years old. Don’t you think I’m a bit too old now for the Cute Boy nickname?

Nora: *grinning cheekily* Afraid not.

That’d be cute. Anyways, that’s my headcanon. I hope you guys like it. 

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[shuhey-hisagi]

Could I get some headcanons on what Rangiku, Rukia, Renji, Shuhei, and Toshiro's favorite things to do are in the human world when they're not working(I hope that's not too many)?

I was way too excited writing this..

Favorite things to do in the human world

Rangiku Matsumoto:

- It’s a no brainer that she enjoys visiting shopping centers. She’ll drag along whatever poor sap was around her at the time so they can carry all her bags. How she has that much valid currency is a mystery, but she goes all out. She’s interested especially in new make-up and fashion trends.

- She’s all about doing things that make you happy and is a firm believer in the power of retail therapy. Rangiku might pick up several magazines with make up tutorials so that she can practice back at home when she’s bored. She actually becomes really good at make up and her favorite looks usually involve  brown/red eyeshadows and a bold lip. People at the mall confuse her for a social media influencer or model often.

- She’s not Rangiku if she doesn’t hit up the night clubs or bars. She’ll talk some of the girls into going with her. While at the place of business, she has an easy time talking men and women alike into buying her and her friends drinks. It’s a fun night, especially since she’s really outgoing and down to try new things.

- Since she goes to clubs often, she’s developed a taste in a particular sort of night club music genre, so she might ask Ichigo to help her find a certain song or similar songs. He’s less than pleased but tries his best anyways.

- SPA DAYS. After a long night of drinking and dancing, she most definitely will have booked a spa day. I’m talking facials, full body massages, that weird tropical music they play, a complementary jacuzzi for extra pizazz, all of it. She brings along whoever she feels might be having a bad week/needs to destress though. It’s sweet of her, because she acts like she just wants company, but is trying to use something that makes her feel a little better to help someone she loves.

Rukia Kuchiki:

- Rukia enjoys learning about modern ways of life. This involves watching a lot of cute shows on television or picture books. She appreciates animated shows a lot because it’s interesting to her how much work people put into creating such content. It takes her a while to get used to the subtle humor though.

- Definitely someone who would try to go see the tourist sights available and enjoys places like beaches or small hiking trails connected to parks.

- Would probably take Renji and/or Ichigo to an aquarium with her because that’s a whole uncovered field for her and she’s awestruck. She would find a tour guide or worker and badger them with questions the whole time that she’s there.

- She does like spending time with Orihime and her friends. It gives her a sense of belonging, and they are all really sweet and animated in their own ways. It’s a definite break from the strict atmosphere of the Soul Society. She especially enjoys going to the movies or amusement parks with them because she always experiences something new.

- I can see her trying out a yoga class with Renji and making an utter fool of herself. That’s something she’s never going to attempt again... 

- Would definitely be on the look out for anything that she believes her brother may appreciate. Though her sense of style is a little tasteless, she does like to hit up scarf shops or even craft stores that may have odd trinkets that she thinks Byakuya may find (secretly) endearing. Probably has a custom frame made for him.

- She also enjoys spending time with Ichigo. Harassing him has become one of her favorite pastimes and no matter how old he gets, she’s still able to rile him up. It never stops being funny.

Renji Abarai:

- Renji is a mess. He wants to try everything out. He’s passionate about new foods and accessory shops most.

- You can find him strolling through downtown observing a map and trying to find that new sunglasses shop Orihime mentioned. This dude totally gets talked into buying bootleg Ray-Bans or something. He doesn’t really care- brand names don’t mean anything in the Seireitei, so he can get away with sporting some cheesy glasses.

- Likes going out to try new foods with Rukia and the gang. He usually ends up ordering too much and has to get Rangiku to pick up the tag. She does with the threat that he has to pay her back, but she never owns up to it. She secretly doesn’t mind it. 

- At one point he became interested in motorcycles and Chad was trying to help him learn. That ended up as badly as you can imagine. 

- On the off chance that Byakuya is also in the world of the living, Renji tries to break his shell by bringing him to shopping centers or even suggesting a hike that has a nice view. 

- Though his experience at the Urahara shop was iffy, he does like to drop by every now and then with candy or other small gifts for Jinta and Ururu. He’ll never admit it, but he’s become extremely fond of the two and views them as his younger siblings. That being said, it doesn’t mean that the kids are any less lenient on him. He’s still the victim of relentless taunting. He’s learned to be patient with them and usually just gives them the reaction they want because he knows it makes them happy.

- Renji enjoys going to the jazz cafes that Shinji Hirako suggests. He’s grown fond of the music and when he needs some alone time, he can count on the atmosphere to mellow him out.

Shuhei Hisagi:

- There’s this one Shinigami Golden clip where when he was in the world of the living, he brought back Sajin Komamura a brush for his fur. That makes me think he’s usually on the lookout for items that are not available in the Soul Society that he thinks will benefit his comrades. He’s also always tempted to buy other things like sweets or snacks for people he thinks might enjoy them.

- Chad helps him learn how to play that guitar he found. His progress is slow considering he can’t meet up often, but he takes back books and probably has a laptop that he can watch tutorials on. (Chad got a new one so he downloaded videos on it for Shuhei).

- He likes to cook, so he enjoys going to the grocery stores and scoping out produce that he may be able to find back home as well and looks up recipes. He spends a lot of his time at used book stores. 

- Has definitely thought of getting another tattoo or piercing. Scratch that, he got an eyebrow piercing on his gigai and liked how it looks, so when he got back home he decided to get an actual one. Once it healed, he only ever wears jewelry in it occasionally. He’s thought of a nose piercing but is a little too nervous about a cartilage piercing.

- Ichigo was skating once and Shuhei thought it was cool and had Ichigo teach him how to skate. He’s actually a natural at the whole thing and enjoys evening skates through quiet streets. That is, until someone mistakes him for a rival gang member and he ends up being chased. Usually he tries to avoid conflict, but sometimes thugs just deserve getting their asses kicked.

- On that note, Orihime suggested he get rid of the face tattoos on his gigai if he wants to look a little less intimidating, but Shuhei refuses because they’re an important part of him. He does mind that people are intimidated by him, but he’s come to accept that he might not be the most conventional “human”. ( help im crying )

Toshiro Hitsugaya:

- Definitely visits all the grandmas who somehow hav managed to melt his icy demeanor. A few of them don’t get to see their relatives that often, so he makes it a point to stop by when he can. He’ll help around the house or eat the snacks the provide. They usually don’t mind if he takes a nap and often suggest he can take their spare bedroom, though he hasn’t done so yet. He’s tempted.

- Does his best to avoid any other soul reaper who may be in the world of the living. Once the mission is done, he just wants to relax. He’ll spend time at local parks, and sometimes, if Karin spots him, he’ll be talked into a game of soccer.

- Toshiro enjoys feeding stray cats and has done so so many times that even when he’s not in his gigai, the animals can sense him and follow him around. He claims it’s a nuisance but he’s truly happy about it.

- Like the others, he enjoys experiencing new foods. Shaved ice is one of his favorites, but when he found out about frozen yogurt, he was swayed. He’s definitely the type of person who stocks up on snacks from the convenience store then goes back to where he’s staying, locks himself in his room, and proceeds to devour everything and nap.

- I see Toshiro as someone who would enjoy learning new languages and learning about other cultures. He has made i his goal to learn as many languages as possible, and if he’s able to, he’d like to travel to more countries aside from Japan. He’s learning English. Sometimes Chad will teach him some conversational Spanish. He gets a smartphone so he can use apps like Duolingo when he’s in the world of the living, and definitely suggests that the Soul Society should make more technological progress so he can use said apps in a completely separate plane of existence

[tenroseforeverandever]

The Perfect Blend Chapter 3

Characters: Tenth Doctor (aka James Noble); Rose Tyler; Clara Oswald; Amy Pond; Jeanne Poisson; Donna Noble; Sylvia Noble; Wilfred Mott; Mickey Smith; Martha Jones; Clyde Langer

Tags: Human AU; fake relationship AU; coffee shop AU; stalkerish!Reinette; hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; Christmas; New Year; New Year’s kiss

Story Summary:

Trying to escape from an predatory ex-girlfriend who will not accept their break-up, James Noble (aka The Doctor) finds himself in a coffee shop where he meets a barista (aka Rose Tyler) who makes him the perfect cup of tea and lends a sympathetic ear to his tale of woe.

Chapter Summary: James and Gramps discuss James’ Christmas announcement; and on New Year’s Eve, Clara and Mickey are concerned that Rose is mooning. 

Chapter Notes: Sorry for the wait. Real life is messing with me, right now. I hope the next chapter won’t take quite as long.

As always, a big hug of thanks to @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, for taking precious time out of their lives to beta my work. As always, all mistakes are mine.

Read also at: AO3; Tsp; FF

THE PERFECT BLEND - CHAPTER 3

CHRISTMAS DAY

James trudged up the darkened hillside at the back of the house, carrying a large flask full of tea in one hand and an old car blanket under the opposite arm. He took a long, clean breath of fresh air, relieved to have been able to slip away and leave the hubbub and bickering behind him. Despite the (rather deceptive, he thought) sense of freedom, he was feeling self-conscious, and he hesitated as he approached the old lean-to at the top of the hill.

“You don’t really have a date for the gala, do you son?” Gramps’ voice emanated from the rickety little shelter. “C’mon out from behind there, James. I know it’s you. I’d know those footsteps anywhere. Yours and Donna’s both.”

James couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face. “I brought some hot tea,” he came around the corner of the lean-to to the familiar sight of Gramps sitting on his tattered, old lawn chair, the box for the new telescope opened before him, “and I thought you might like some help putting your new toy together."

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact both would be very much appreciated.”

James spread the blanket on the ground and knelt on it. He handed the flask to Gramps, pulled the telescope box toward him, and unpacked all the bits in front of him, organizing them and piecing them together.

“I don’t think I’d get through that lot without your help. Thank-you, son.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. You know how I love tinkering with things. And it’s a brilliant evening for stargazing, even if it’s a bit cold. I should have this in working order in no time.” James turned his eyes to the stars and sighed. “It’s always so peaceful up here.”

“Tonight, especially so, I’ll wager.” Gramps took a long sip of tea. “After that bombshell you dropped on that lot.”

James snorted. “Dropped it on myself, if I’m being honest. You were right, I don’t really have a date for the gala. I never planned on taking a date at all. I was just looking forward to meeting with some of my colleagues out of the office and… they’ve asked me to put together a little firework display to bring in the New Year, so I can’t just back out. The Uni wants something spectacular, something special this year. This gala is all about fundraising for the new Medical Sciences wing, after all.”

“Blimey! Pyrotechnics?” Gramps gawped at him. “You’re not creating that yourself, are you? Surely there are all sorts of regulations about that sort of thing.”

“Weeell…” James ran a hand through his hair, “actually, its digital pyrotechnics. I’ve developed a holographic interface to create some 3D fireworks indoors.”  

“I have to admit, I’m a bit relieved to hear that.”

“Oh, there are still plenty of ways for it to go wrong, and if I have to spend the evening fending off her… But don’t worry, it won’t be like the blender… I swear,” he added at the sight of his grandad’s dubious expression. “Besides, I’m collaborating with a bunch of people from Computer Sciences and we’ve already had a few test runs, but I’d like to give it a bit more pizazz. A few tweaks to make it ultra-realistic.

Gramps sighed. “You know the old saying? If it ain’t broke...”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

“Well, I would never have guessed you knew much about that sort of thing. You’ve never actually studied computer graphics, have you? Never mind something so grand as all that holographic stuff.”

“Nah,” he sniffed a bit boastfully, “but it isn’t really a big leap from the programming I’m doing for my bionics research… Weeell, not that big. Weeell… I’m a quick study.”

“My clever boy! But the question is, if you can’t back out of the gala altogether, what are you going to do about the fireworks currently going off back down there?” He waved an arm in the direction of the house.

James groaned in response. “All the studying in the world won’t help me with that... Oh, here, Gramps, have a look! Your telescope’s ready to go.”

“Oh, blimey, will you take a look at that beauty.” Gramps marvelled at the telescope, rubbing his hands together. “You shouldn’t have spent all that money, though…”

“C’mon… have a look.  There’s Saturn.” James pointed to the sky. “Something easy, first, to get the hang of it. Then the universe is yours to explore.”

They took turns, well into the night, peering through the telescope, sipping hot tea and discussing possible solutions for James’ “French dilemma”, as they’d come to refer to Jeanne.

James reminded himself he had nearly a week before the gala. He was clever and not too bad looking, if he did say so himself, even if he was a “skinny beanpole” by Donna’s assertions. Surely, he wouldn’t have any problem finding a suitable date by New Year’s Eve, someone who would convince Jeanne, once and for all, that he had moved on.

 NEW YEAR’S EVE

The bell jingled above the door, and Rose looked up from where she was clearing a table to greet the latest customer. It was New Year’s Eve and the shop had been busy over the lunch hour as people dropped in to grab a coffee and a bite to eat before heading home to prepare for the evening’s festivities. No matter how busy, she always made a point of trying to welcome everyone with a bright smile whenever she could. It was just good customer service, building loyalty, welcoming her guests. Goodness knew her little shop needed all the help it could get to stave off the competition of the big chain coffeehouses.

But perhaps she’d been trying a little harder than usual over the last week or so, her chest filling with a faint, fluttering hope that, when she looked up at the sound of the bell, it would be to the sight of tousled brown hair and sad, earnest eyes and a request for the best cuppa in London.

But it never was.

And that wisp of hope would fade, drifting away on Rose’s soft sigh, her heart emptying a little more every time.

A wistful smile playing over her lips, she brought the used dishes to the counter. As she passed Clara, who was serving the latest customer, her friend arched her brow at her. Rose ignored the shrewd look and handed the dishes through the passthrough to the young dishwasher who took them from her with an overblown sigh.

“You can go home soon, Clyde. Just do this last load for me, yeah? Then a quick mop of the floor and wipe down those counters, and it’ll be all spic and span, ready for the New Year.”

“You sure, Miss Tyler?”

“Yeah, course. The lunch rush is over. Everyone’s heading home now. I can take care of anything else that comes up.”

“Thanks, Miss Tyler!”

Rose turned back to the service counter where Clara was completing an order of a Peppermint Hot Chocolate with a flourish of whipped cream and candy cane crumbs. She called out the customer’s name, handed them their chocolate, then spun to face Rose. “You’re mooning.”

Rose fixed her with narrowed eyes, shaking her head in a teasing warning. “I am not!” Then, latching on to a perfect way to change the subject, her eyes shot to the clock. “Hey, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?”

“Don’t worry. I’m just about to go. The baking’s all set to go for tomorrow.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m not meeting Jenny at the salon for another hour. We’re both going to get our hair and nails done, then we’re going out to bring in the New Year in style.” She winked at Rose.

Rose couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy. As much as she loved her shop, she sometimes wished she was going out to celebrate, too. But she tried to sound upbeat, for Clara’s sake. “Ooooh, sounds like fun!”

“See, Rose,” Clara offered her perkiest know-it-all smile, “this is one advantage of same-sex relationships. There’s so much extra stuff you can do together. You should seriously consider it. You’re a catch! Better that than mooning after boys.”

(So much for the change of subject…)

“I am not mooning! It’s just a quiet afternoon, yeah. It’s just the letdown after the lunch rush. And, though I know we’ve had this discussion before, I’ll remind you again: I’m not like you. My options remain limited to…” she blew her breath past her lips, and rolled her eyes, “…boys. Such as they are.”

“I suppose… but you have been mooning… for nearly two bloody weeks, ever since that Doctor bloke dropped in.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Rose’s cheeks burned and she forced herself to maintain eye contact with Clara. “I have not.”

“Pu-lease!” Clara chirped over her shoulder as she disappeared into the little staff room. She reappeared a few minutes later, tying the belt of her coat around her waist.

“I’m not mooning,” Rose insisted, failing to hide the slightly petulant tone from her voice.

“Oh, relax,” Clara scoffed gently, as the bell above the door rang again, “I’m just taking the mick.”

“Hey, did someone mention my name?” the familiar voice sounded from the doorway and both girls turned to greet Mickey Smith with wide smiles.

“Only in jest,” Clara quipped.

Mickey stuck out his tongue at her. “See if I ever cover a shift for you again!”

Everyone laughed and Rose piped up, “Oh, you can’t stay away. Not when you get to spend New Year’s Eve with me.”

“You’re right, there, babe.” Mickey gave Rose a soft, friendly peck on the cheek as he walked past her to the staff room. “Although,” he called out through the door, “Martha might have something to say about that.”

Mickey was Rose’s oldest and closest friend. She had known him literally all her life. He was a few years older than her, and they had grown up on Powell Estate together. They’d even dated a few years back but had quickly realized they were destined only to be the best of friends. Being lovers hadn’t worked for them, much to Rose’s mum’s chagrin. Jackie Tyler had chided Rose about getting airs and graces, thinking herself above dating a mechanic. It had taken a firm word from Mickey to get her to listen to reason, although she still lamented from time to time that Rose would end up an old maid.

That had been years ago, and now Mickey was dating a young surgeon, Martha Jones, who worked at the local hospital. They had met when she had brought her car to him to be repaired and had hit it off right away. A year later, he’d asked her to marry him. Rose, who had rapidly befriended Martha, was thrilled for them both.

Mickey often came to Pete’s Coffee Dimension, after work at the garage, to help out and to make sure Rose, Clara, and the other employees had time for a dinner break. He often stayed the evening, chatting, when Martha was working a night shift. Tonight, he was covering Clara’s shift, so she could have the evening off with Jenny. Martha was on call at the hospital and would be dropping by later, if she was free, to ring in the New Year with her fiancé and Rose.

“Right then, I’m off,” Clara announced, “now that you’re here to help hold down the fort, Micks. But I should warn you,” she grinned, gesturing toward Rose with a jab of her thumb, “this one is mooning…”

“Oh, what’s this then? Mooning? You’re going to be a right misery all night, ain’t ya?”

Rose snapped her arms over her chest. “You,” she fixed Clara with a fierce glare, “are going to be late. And for the record,” she turned her glare on Mickey, “I am not mooning! End of story.”

“All right, all right!” he held his hands up defensively. “You’re not mooning. Blimey! Don’t kill me. Not a great way to start the New Year, yeah?”

“’M not gonna kill ya.” Rose drew Mickey in for a hug, then turned to Clara, pulling her in for a hug too. “Happy New Year, you. Thanks for looking out for me, both of you. Now off you go, Clara. Wish Jenny a happy New Year for us, yeah?”

“Definitely! Happy New Year!” Clara cheered, giving Rose and Mickey a last big squeeze and calling through the passthrough to Clyde before heading toward the door. “Give my love to Martha.” She gave a parting wave and backed out onto the street, the bell tinkling behind her.

 The shop remained quiet, a few customers straggling in through the afternoon. Clyde had long since left and Martha had texted to say she would be by shortly. Rose glanced up at the clock: just gone three.

“So, babe,” Mickey fixed Rose with narrowed eyes, “I have to agree with Clara: you’re not quite yourself. Deny it all you like, you are mooning. Not after some bloke, is it?”

Rose groaned.

“It is!”

“Look, I’m just feeling a little, I dunno…” she shrugged, “…not exactly sad, but jus’…”

“Mooning.”

She smiled. “It would just be nice to have someone special to share the holidays with, ya know? To dress up and go out somewhere nice. I love the shop, I mean… it’s my life, my dream. But it would be good to get out once in a while.” She leaned back against the counter and laid her head on Mickey’s shoulder, as he wrapped a comforting arm around her.

“You’ll find someone.”

“Yeah, maybe. No one as good as you, though.”

“You kidding me? I was a rubbish boyfriend… at least to you. I hope I’m doin’ okay with Mar.”

“She thinks you’re bloody wonderful. But us,” she nudged him with an elbow, “we were just never good together like that. To me, you’ve always been a lovely friend, a big brother, yeah. Always there when I need you. But sometimes, I just feel like I want someone to be a bit more than a friend. I’m just afraid…”

“That you’ll end up with another–”

“Yeah, Jimmy Stone…”

Mickey growled, “If I ever get my hands on that tosser… how he treated you…”

“Enough,” she shoved him a little, knocking him off balance, “you’ll scare away all the customers, looking all aggressive-like.”

“Like there are so many of those…”

She frowned at him, unimpressed.

“Fine…” He grudgingly relaxed, and Rose snuggled against him again. After a few quiet moments, he spoke again, “So tell me about this bloke?”

“What bloke?”

“The one that you’re mooning over. You can’t lie to me, babe, I know there’s someone…”

“Not really…”

“C’mon! Give.”

“There’s nothing to tell you. I hardly know him. It was just… a feeling… he seemed sweet. That’s all. But I’ve only ever seen him the once.”

“And…”

Rose shrugged. “He was nice, but waaaay out of my league. Working on his third Ph.D.”

“An older man! Shit, Rose!”

“No, no! He looks like he’s only a couple of years older than me,” Rose giggled. “I don’t think he’s even thirty. He’s just really clever. Says he’s a genius. Like I said, out of my league. Not that it matters. He’s only come in the once.”

“Wait a minute! This isn’t that… erm… what was it… Doctor-bloke who went gaga over your cup of tea, was it?”

Rose flushed, biting her thumb.

“It him, isn’t it? Clara told me about him. Said you thought he was a bit fit.”

“It was none of Clara’s business! Nothing happened. I don’t even know his proper name and he doesn’t know mine. So, it don’t matter, yeah.”

“Well, he’s an idiot if he didn’t bother to come back and get it, that’s all I can say. Not worth all the mooning.”

Rose opened her mouth to say something more, but at that moment the bell jingling heralded another customer entering the shop.

 About an hour later, Mickey huffed to himself as he wiped down the tables. Martha had arrived a little while ago, given him a quick peck on the cheek, and then she and Rose had disappeared into the kitchen ostensibly to get a start on a thorough New Year’s cleaning… but Mickey knew what really was going on was a good old gossip. Either way, it left him as the front man, taking care of the customers who occasionally wandered into the shop.

The bell chimed above the door. Mickey gave the table he was tending to one last wipe and looked up to greet the man who burst into the shop on a cold blast of wintery air from the street. “’Lo,” Mickey said, “Happy New Year, mate! What can I get you? Something to go?”

The man looked frantic. Even his hair looked frantic. He dragged a hand through it, making it stand up even more on end. “No… erm… no thanks. For here, please. I think I’d like to stay here for a bit.” He loosened the black bow tie at his neck, leaving the ends to dangle, and unfastened the top button of his shirt. “Blimey, that’s a bit better. Always feel trapped in a tux… unluckiest suit in the world. Never liked ‘em… Nothing good ever came from wearing a tux.” This time, he ran both hands through his hair.

“Yeah, mate, I get it. I don’t like a monkey suit much either. Look, take a seat and I’ll bring you a menu, but to be honest, you look like you need something a bit stronger than a posh coffee.”

Mickey left to grab a menu from the stand at the front of the service counter and returned to the man, who had seated himself at a table by the window. His legs were jittering with nervous energy. He took the menu from Mickey and glanced over it with glazed eyes.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he looked up from the menu. “Just putting off the inevitable. My life is over after tonight.”

“Mate, you have a brand-new year coming up! New opportunities. How bad can it be, yeah?”

“You don’t understand. If I don’t show up with a date to the Uni Gala… she’ll…” he spat out the word, “she’ll… Fuck! I’m doomed.” He slumped over the table.

“I’m sorry, man. Wish I could help.”

“No,” the man straightened up, “I’m sorry.” He looked down at the menu again. “I’ll have… hmmm… I’ll have… You know what I need… I need a cup of tea. It did wonders the last time I was here.”

“I can do that! Nothing like a good cuppa, yeah? Oh, blimey, my best friend, Rose (she own’s this place!); well, her mum is known for making the best cuppa, and taught Rose everything she knows. But,” Mickey added conspiratorially, “I honestly think Rose makes it even better. But don’t tell her mum I said so… she’d flay me alive.”

“Rose?” The man’s expression relaxed as he muttered the name, a small smile toying with his lips. “Her name is Rose…”

This man was a bit odd, Mickey thought. Not a bad sort, just a bit odd. “Can I get your name for the order then?”

“Oh, right!” He broke out of his daze. “My name, of course. The Doctor.”

“The Doctor…” Mickey repeated slowly. The name was so familiar, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Yup! That’s me! Just ‘The Doctor’. It’s easier that way. My real name’s quite common.”

“The Doctor…” Mickey mulled the name around in his mind again, and suddenly all the pieces fell into place. “Wait! You’re the Doctor! The Doctor who was in here a few days before Christmas. You ordered a cup of tea, yeah?”

The Doctor quirked a suspicious left eyebrow at Mickey. “Yeeess… a brilliant cup of tea. What about it?”

“Oh, mate! You said need a date for tonight?” Mickey had never considered himself to be much of a matchmaker. If he was being honest, it would never normally have crossed his mind. He was much more of a live-and-let-live sort of bloke. But this time, it was Rose’s happiness at stake, and when it came to ensuring Rose’s happiness, there were no holds barred.

“Erm… yes… yeah… but, it’s too late. I’m never going to find a date at this time. I told you, I’m doomed.”

“Nah, not tonight, you’re not. Mate, I think I may just have the answer to all of your problems!”

[tiny-opal-essence]

Pocket Paladin Chpt 1

Where are They Now?

While rescuing Shiro from the Galra, Lance is given a new perspective on life. How will everyone handle his new stature and how long will he be stuck like this? What does this mean for team Voltron? What are the villains up to?

or, Lance gets shrunk and shenanigans ensue.

(This is also posted on AO3 if you want to read it there)

“Look out, Hunk!” Lance said as he flew the red lion out of the way of the robeast.  The robeast spread its wings and brought them down, creating a hurricane-force wind tunnel aimed right at the yellow lion.

“Ooof.  Aaaaaah!” Hunk yelled as he was thrown around mercilessly by the wind tunnel.

“Are you alright, Hunk?” Allura worriedly asked while she brought down some of the Galran fighter jets using the blue lion.

“Ugggh.  I’m okay.  Just remind me never to do that again.  I think I left my stomach behind.” Hunk groaned out through the coms.

“I didn’t know that could happen to humans.  Do you need us to cover you while you go back and get it?” Allura asked.

“Oh, I didn’t actually leave my stomach behind.  It just means that my stomach is feeling upset.” Hunk informed her while he shot down another fighter jet.

“Why wouldn’t you just say that your stomach isn’t feeling well?” Allura questioned as she flew the blue lion out of the way of one of the robeast’s missiles.

“It’s an earth thing.  It’s a lot more fun to joke about it.” Lance explained as he shot down two fighter jets with the red lion.

“Now is not the time for jokes!  We have to keep the Galra’s attention on us while Pidge and Keith are on their ship.  They might be able to find out where the Galra are keeping Shiro and Pidge’s father.”  Allura snapped as she barely avoided getting caught in another wind tunnel that was unleashed by the robeast.

“Pidge, Keith.  How are things going on your end?” Hunk asked, including the other two paladins in the communication loop.

“I’ve almost downloaded the prisoner database here.  There aren’t any prisoners on board, so once we’re out you can open fire on the ship.  I’ve also got the ion cannon rigged to blow once we’re a safe distance away.” Pidge responded before going back to making sure that the Galra wouldn’t notice they were being hacked.

“How’s the robeast situation?” Keith asked.

“It’s going great!  You’re missing out on all the fun down here, Mullet.” Lance teased Keith while taking out yet another fighter jet.

“Will you stop calling me that?” Keith asked, annoyed at Lance’s comment on his hair.

“I will if you get rid of the mullet and admit that I’m a better pilot than you.” Lance smugly answered.

“Well we know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon,” Pidge commented with a smirk in her voice.

“Oh come on.  I’m a great pilot, right Red?  Ooof” Lance yelled as he was hit by one of the fighter jets.

“Heh.  You were saying?” Keith commented failing to hide his amusement at the situation.

“Oh shut it mullet.  You try flying a different lion than you’re used to.” Lance grumbled out.

“I am?” Keith reminded Lance.

“Oh yeah.  Well, at least I don’t have a mullet!” Lance exclaimed.

“Wow.  Great come back.  Can’t argue with that.” Pidge said with sarcasm evident in her voice.

“Paladins, please!  We have a mission to do here.  We need to focus on protecting the Vorurteil from the Galra empire, not on someone’s hairstyle.” Allura reminded everyone of the reason they were there in the first place while reprimanding Lance.  “We cannot allow any more planets to fall prey to the empire.”

“Don’t worry princess, Lancelot and his noble steed are on their way to save the day!” Lance said as he flew closer to the robeast to help Allura and Hunk.

“Good reference Lance!” Hunk encouragingly said as he shot down another fighter jet.

“Lancelot?  Who is Lancelot?” Allura asked as she froze a fighter jet before ramming into it and shattering it into space dust.

“You know, knight in shining armor, slayer of dragons, savior of princesses” Lance answered unaware of the missile coming right towards him.

Luckily, Allura noticed it and was able to push the red lion out of the way

“More like saved by the princess.” Hunk commented.

“Lance, are you implying that I can’t defend myself?” Allura asked.

“What? No!  You can take care of yourself.  Most princesses faint at the sight of danger, but you sure don’t.  You could kick my butt any day.”  Lance quickly said.

“Really?  Well in that case, it looks like you could use some more training.  That’s an extra half varga of training for everyone tomorrow.” Allura responded.

“Oh come on” groans and similar sounds came through the coms.  “Why should we all be punished because Lance couldn’t keep his big mouth shut?” Pidge asked.

“Because we’re a team.  We train together to win together.  What one individual does affects the whole team.  It is only fair that we share in their fate.”  Allura stated.

“Remind me why the girl with super strength is in charge of training.  Not all of us are Wonder Woman you know.”  Pidge muttered to herself.

“What was that, Pidge?” Allura asked, having not heard what she said clearly.

“Nothing.  Just saying that I could use some peace and quiet so I can focus on not alerting the Galra to the fact that we’re on their ship.” Pidge responded.

“Sorry, Pidge.” Everyone chorused.

Lance noticed that the robeast was aiming its missiles right at the yellow lion.  Hunk was distracted by all of the fighter jets swarming him and didn’t seem to be aware of it.  Not even thinking, Lance charged across the sky and slammed his lion into Yellow letting the missiles hit Red instead.  “Uggggh.  That’s going to leave a mark.” Lance groaned out.

“What did you do to Red?” Keith questioned.

“Nothing.  Sheesh.  We just got hit by the robeasts missiles.  She’ll be fine.  Stop backseat lion driving.” Lance answered.

“Can you two leave your little rivalry for later?  I got the database downloaded.  We’re on our way to our lions now.  Once we’re out, let’s form Voltron, defeat this robeast, and blow this popsicle stand.” Pidge said.

“We really should start naming the robeasts.  It’s hard to keep track of them.” Hunk suggested.

“I don’t think naming them is going to help us fight them,” Keith said.

“Yeah, but think how much better the story of saving Shae and the other Balmerans would be if instead of saying that we faced a robeast with lasers all over its arms we say that we fought the lazer squid.  It rolls off the tongue a bit nicer and adds a bit more of pizazz to the story.” Lance said as he used Red’s fire to melt through some of the fighter jets.  “Any suggestions for names for this one?”

“Yeah, how about shut up and focus Lance!” Pidge yelled through the coms as the Green and Black lions zoomed out of the Galra ship while the ion cannon exploded from the inside just as Pidge had told it to.

“Mmm good try, but I was thinking something more like the Terror-dactyl, cause it looks like a pterodactyl and inspires terror in its victims,” Lance responded.

“Good one, Lance.” Hunk commented.

“Could you please focus on the mission?  Honestly, it’s like dealing with a Glolnor.” Allura said, muttering the last part under her breath.

“Alright.  Let’s form Voltron and fight the pterodactyl.”  Keith said

“Keith, it’s called the terror-dactyl.” Lance tried to correct his teammate.

“That’s what I said.  The pterodactyl.” Keith responded.

“No, it’s…oh never mind.  We’ll work on it later.” Lance said

“Form Voltron!” Keith yelled as the paladins all flew in formation focusing on their bond as paladins.

“Did anyone see any weaknesses for this guy?” Pidge asked.

“Our lazer guns have some effect, but they aren’t able to pierce through the armor.”  Hunk answered.

“The most they could do is hold the creature at bay, but we can’t do that forever,” Allura added on.

“He didn’t seem to like Red’s fire.  Maybe we can try to draw him closer to the volcano over there.” Lance suggested.

“That’s…actually not a bad idea,” Allura commented.

“Why do you sound so shocked?” lance asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean, even a broken clock’s right twice a day,” Pidge said.

“Yeah, uh-huh, exactly.  Wait…” Lance started to say before he was interrupted by Hunk yelling

“Guys!  On our left!”

“Pidge, shield!” Keith yelled upon seeing the robeast’s missiles heading right for them.  The impact from them hitting the shield was enough to push back Voltron.

“That gives me an idea!  We can use my gun to force this guy up against the volcano, just like how he was able to push us!” Lance said excitedly.

“That could work, but you’re not enough on your own.  We need more power if we want to push this guy back.” Keith commented.  “Hunk, your weapon should work, so get ready.”

“I was born ready.”  Hunk said.

“Now!” Keith yelled as Pidge’s shield went away and Hunk’s canon emerged.  He fired at the Terror-dactyl and hit it dead on.

“Direct hit!  Nice shot, Hunk!” Lance called out as the robeast stumbled back towards the volcano.

“Thanks, I try.” Hunk said.

“One more hit like that should force the Terror-dactyl right next to the volcano,” Pidge remarked.

“He’s starting to get up, guys!” Lance exclaimed.

“Hunk, how long until your cannon’s charged?” Keith asked.

“Just a tic more and…ready when you are.”

“Ready, aim, fire!”

Most of the shots hit the Terror-dactyl, but a few of them missed and hit the side of the volcano.  Unbeknownst to them, this robeast still had one trick up its sleeve.  As Keith summoned his sword, the Terror-dactyl fired what looked like a net at Voltron.

“Really?  A net?  That’s the best the Galra can do?” Pidge commented with a smug look on her face.

Suddenly electricity flowed through the net that had Voltron in its clutches.

“What the cheese?  I can’t move!”  Lance yelled.

“Neither can I!” Allura said, with the rest of the paladins confirming that they were also unable to move.  “Somehow, this net must be able to immobilize Voltron.  We can’t get out!”

“What do we do, Keith?” Lance asked worriedly.

“I…I don’t know,” Keith responded, voice sounding small.

“What do you mean you don’t know?  You’re our leader!” Lance yelled on the verge of panic.

“That doesn’t mean I know everything!” Keith yelled back.

“Shiro would know what to do,” Lance muttered to himself.

“Well, guess what, Lance.  I’m not Shiro.  He’s not here.” Keith responded angrily, though that anger was more directed at himself.

“If you would please stop antagonizing each other perhaps we could figure a way out of this situation,” Allura interjected.

“Sorry, Allura.” They chorused.  Suddenly they were thrown in the air towards the base of the volcano.

“Uggh.  I still can’t move.  Pidge, do you think you can hack our way out of here?” Hunk asked.

“No.  Green won’t let me in.  The net is stopping the lions from doing much of anything.” She responded.

“Does anyone else feel like the ground is shaking?” Lance asked.

“Now that you mention it, yes,” Allura answered.

“I think the volcano’s going to erupt!  Hunk’s cannon fire and Voltron hitting it must have triggered it.” Pidge said.

“Can Voltron survive lava?” Hunk’s worry showed in his voice.

“For a short while, yes, but only the red lion can survive more than 5 dobashes.” Allura responded.

“So we’ve got 7 minutes until we’re toast.  Literally.”  Lance said.

“We’ve got to get out of here!  Can anyone move?” Hunk asked only to receive a chorus of “no” in response.

Suddenly there was a great sound of thunder as a plume of smoke rose up into the air.  Lava began to flow down the slope of the volcano all the while the robeast approached Voltron, ready to strike.

“It was nice knowing you all…and Keith.” Lance said.

“Really, Lance?” Keith said exasperatedly.

“Do you still have to pick a fight with Keith when we’re about to die?” Pidge yelled through the coms.

The lava was nearly upon them.  The Terror-dactyl roared in Voltron’s face as it steadied itself against the volcano and Voltron to aim its missiles right at the lions.  Before it could fire, the lava reached its hand that was on the volcano.  With an agonizing roar, it released its hold on Voltron and stumbled away.

“We’re free!  Let’s go!” Keith said as Voltron regained its movement and stood to take down the robeast once and for all.

“Your sword should be able to pierce through the armor,” Allura commented.

“It would be better if it were Shiro’s flaming sword,” Keith said dejectedly.

“Well, if all else fails, Hunk can always knock him back into the lava,” Lance suggested.

“Yeah, if we don’t get caught in that net again.” Hunk worried out loud.

“We won’t.  We know about it, so he no longer has the element of surprise.  We got this guys!”

“Everybody ready?  Let’s go!” Keith said as they approached the beast once more.

The Terror-dactyl had finished grieving over its charred skin and was ready to finish what it was created to do.  Voltron and the Terror-dactyl charged at one another.  The robeast fired its net at Voltron once again, but they were able to dodge it.  With a quick swing of the sword, the robeast was sliced clean through.  Its corpse fell into the lava that still flowed down the volcano.

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“The Vorurteil humbly thank you all for ridding our planet of the Galra.”

“It was the least we could do after receiving your message.  You must be Virelai.”  Allura said.

“And you must be Princess Allura.  Even here we have heard tell of you and Voltron.”  Virelai said at seeing her surprise at knowing who she was.  “Though I must say, the stories do not do your beauty justice.”

Allura blushed slightly at the comment before regaining her composure.  “Thank you, but we are not here to just exchange compliments.  We would be honored if you would be willing to join the Voltron Coalition.  Together, we will be able to defeat the Galra empire once and for all.”

While the two leaders were discussing, Lance looked over at Keith and noticed a thin line of blood flowing down his face.  “You’ve got something on your face, Mullet.”  He said while pointing at Keith’s cheek.

“I wish you would stop calling me that,” Keith said as he brushed away the blood with his hand.  “I must have bumped my head during the fight.”  He began to take off his helmet to better inspect the wound.

A wave went through the crowd as the Vorurteil nearest to them grabbed their rifles and pointed them at Keith.

“What is the meaning of this?” Princess Allura asked.

“He is Galra.”  Virelai spat out, fury evident in her voice.

The other paladins formed a circle around Keith to shield him from the crowd upon seeing their reaction to Keith’s ears giving away his Galran heritage.

“So what if he’s part Galra?  He is a paladin of Voltron!” Pidge exclaimed.

“A position for which his kind should never have been chosen for.” Virelai retorted.

“He risked his life to save your planet.  I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you.” Lance said.

One of the Vorurteil near them spat at Keith “I would rather die than be saved by the likes of them!”

“Okay, that’s a bit harsh there.  How about everyone puts their guns down so we can talk this out peacefully.” Hunk put his hands in front of him in a calm down motion.

“And leave ourselves defenseless for him to attack?” Another Vorurteil yelled out in the crowd.  “How do we know you aren’t working for the Galra empire?”

“I can assure you that we are not and will never affiliate ourselves with the Galra empire,”  Allura responded.

“And yet there is a Galra among you.” Virelai icily spoke as she narrowed her eyes.

“Keith is a valued member of our team,” Allura emphasized Keith’s name.

“Yeah!  He’s one of the good Galra!” Lance exclaimed.

“The only good Galra is a dead Galra.” Someone in the mob shouted.  Other voices echoed in agreement.

“Actually, that’s not true.  The Blade of Marmora have helped us out quite a bit.” Hunk continued trying to calm the crowd.

“And just who are the Blade of Marmora?” Virelai raised a hand to silence the crowd.

“They are a group of Galra who fight against the empire and among our most trusted allies,” Allura replied.  “Keith himself is a member, as was his mother.”

“How do you know that his mother and the others were not preparing him to be a mole on your team?” Virelai prompted.

“Well, that would be kind of hard for them to do given that my mother left when I was a baby.  I only found out I was part Galra a month, err, pheeb ago.” Keith responded.

“Yeah.  Don’t go around dissing the Blade of Marmora.  Without them, Voltron wouldn’t be here now.” Lance commented.

“If it were not for the actions of their man on the inside, Thace, Voltron would have been in the Galra Empire’s clutches.  All would have been lost.” Allura stated.

“Not to mention if Ulaz hadn’t freed Shiro, we wouldn’t have even found Blue at all.  Without the Blade, there would be no Voltron.” Lance added on.

“We owe everything to them,” Allura said.

There was indistinct murmuring though out the crowd before Virelai once more silenced them with a wave of her hand.

“If what you say is true, then perhaps there is hope for an alliance.  There’s just one problem.  How would we tell someone from the Blade from someone from the Empire?”

“If they truly are from the blade, they will have a knife like this,” Keith said as he held up his knife.  “They will also be able to activate it like so.” A purple light surrounded the knife as it transformed into a messer.  “Only those with Galra blood who have officially joined the Blade can do this.”

“Thank you for this information.  We thank you all once more for your assistance and would be honored to be included in the coalition.  I would also like to apologize for my people’s and my reaction to you, Keith.  We should know better than to judge based on what one is.  It is one’s actions that determine who they are.” Virelai said as she bowed her head to Keith.

“You don’t have to apologize.  I know how hard it can be to accept that there are good Galra out there when the Empire is doing such terrible things.  It took me some time to accept that part of myself.” Keith responded.

“It was an adjustment for everyone.  I was…less than welcoming to the idea.  The empire had destroyed my planet and my people among many others.  How could someone of their blood possibly be chosen as a paladin of Voltron?  I did come to realize that it was not Keith who did those things.  The people who committed those atrocities are long dead, save for Zarkon and Haggar.  I could never forgive them for what they have done, but their descendants I could seek reconciliation with.  I trust Red and Black’s choice in Keith serving as a paladin.” Allura stated.

“Both Lions chose him as a paladin?  Is that why he wears red yet pilots the black lion?” Virelai asked.

“Something like that.  Our true black paladin, Shiro, was captured by the Galra.  I’m just subbing for him until we find him.  I don’t like to think of myself as the black paladin.  I’m the red paladin and once Shiro’s back, I’ll go back to piloting Red.” Keith responded.

“Is that why some of the rest of your team’s colors don’t correspond with their lion’s colors?” Virelai prompted.

“Yep, you got it, pretty lady,” Lance responded.  “It has taken some getting used to, but the ‘paladin shuffle’ has held up.  We’ve had our struggles, but they help us grow closer as a team.”

“And we as a people are thankful for it.  You can count on the assistance of the Vorurteil in your fight against the Galra Empire.”  Virelai stated.

“Here’s a communicator.  If the Galra Empire comes back, give us a call and we’ll be happy to assist you.” Allura said as she handed the communicator to Virelai.

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“Greetings paladins!  How did the mission go?” Coran asked as the rest of team Voltron filed into the bridge of the castleship.

“It went well.  The Vorurteil have agreed to become part of the coalition.” Allura responded.

“How are the castle upgrades going?” Hunk asked.

“Quite well in fact.  Within a few varga, the particle barrier should be able to withstand more than a single blast from an ion cannon.”  Coran replied.  “I am sorry that I couldn’t provide any air support for you all on the mission.  My grandfather designed the ship to upgrade something only when the system was turned off.  If the ship had been there, it would have been a sitting…what was that animal you said, number 5?”

“A sitting duck.” Pidge supplied.

“Ah yes.  A sitting duck.  Quite the interesting creatures your planet has.” Coran commented.

“Well, if we’re ever in the neighborhood, we could make a pit stop and show you a duck,” Lance said.  “My family has a farm in Cuba, so there would be plenty of animals for you to see.”

“That would be smashing!” Coran replied.  “Is there any more news?”

“Not yet.  Shiro and Dad weren’t on board, but I did download their prisoner database.  I should be able to find a clue of some sort in there once I decode it.” Pidge said as she tried to stifle a yawn.

“That’s wonderful!  I wish you luck.” Coran exclaimed.

“Please do try not to stay up all night working on it.  Remember, extra training in the morning.  For every dobash one of you is late, it’s an extra 5 dobashes for everyone.” Allura reminded the team.

“Yeah, Lance.” Pidge snidely remarked.

“Hey, it takes time to look this good,” Lance said as he gestured to his face.

“You’re joking, rights?” Keith said with a small snicker.

“I wouldn’t expect some desert heathen to understand that moisturizer is your friend,” Lance said in a joking manner.

“Oh haha.” Keith said dryly.

“I can go whip up something in the kitchen if anyone’s hungry.  I think I’ve perfected space pancakes.” Hunk suggested.

“Woohoo! Breakfast for dinner is the best!” Pidge exclaimed.

“That sounds delightful, Hunk.  What are pancakes?” Allura asked.

“Wait.  You’ve never had pancakes?  They’re like one of the best kinds of food ever.  You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Hunk’s.” Lance responded.

“Yeah.  He makes the best pancakes in the universe.” Pidge added on.

“Aww, guys.  You’re gonna make me blush.” Hunk commented.  “But if I’m gonna make the ‘best pancakes in the universe’, I’m going to need a taste tester.”

“Called it!” Lance excitedly raised his hand in the air as everyone made their way to the kitchen.

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Before heading off to bed, Lance had finally gotten the chance to ask Coran about the creature Allura had mentioned during their battle on Vorteil.  The conversation was still floating through his mind as he tried to fall asleep.

“A Glolnor?  They’re brainless creatures from planet Gleedon.  Quite daft little things.  My grandfather said that some once tried to keep them as pets, but they had a tendency to become distracted.  Quite a few died because they were distracted from eating.  Can you imagine being that senseless?” Coran said with a chuckle.

“No, I can’t.” Lance said 

I guess that’s how Allura sees me.

“Why do you ask?”

Not wanting to say Allura had referred to him being similar to one of those creatures, Lance quickly said “Oh, I just read it in something in the library.”

“Ah.  It’s nice to see you contributing more to the team.”

Guess I don’t contribute enough.

Other bits of conversations started spiraling in his head as he tried to fall asleep.

‘Not enough.’ Keith said

‘Broken.’ Pidge commented.

No.  That’s not true. Lance tried to assure himself.

‘Shut up.’ Pidge spoke again.

‘Focus on the mission.’ Allura said.

I was.  I do focus on the mission.  I just have my own way of dealing with things. Lance weakly argued.

‘Stop antagonizing each other.’ Allura stated.

‘Worst pilot’ Keith commented.

‘Naturally dumb.’ Hunk said.

‘The only reason you’re here is that the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out.’ Iverson barked out.

I know I’ll never be as good as Keith or any of them, but I’m trying.  Tears began to fall.  Why can’t they see that?

He heard a worried *Squeak* from his nightstand.

“Oh.  Hey, Chulatt.” Lance sat up as he brushed away his tears.  “What are you doing here?”

Chulatt started doing charades to talk to Lance.

“You’re worried about me?”

The space-mouse nodded with a *Squeak* of agreement.

“You don’t have to be, though it’s nice to know someone cares.”

Chulatt raised his hands in a grabbing motion.

“You want me to pick you up?  Okay.  Hop on.” Lance said as held his hand flat on the nightstand next to Chulatt.

The blue mouse climbed onto his palm and gave him a thumbs up.

“Alright, going up.” Lance raised his hand that was holding Chulatt.

The mouse held onto his thumb like a handrail.  Once he was in front of Lance’s face, he started hugging himself.

“You want a hug?”

*Squeak*

“Aww.  How can I say no to that face?”  Being careful not to squeeze Chulatt too hard, Lance lowered him to his chest and pressed him against it.

Chulatt nuzzled into the embrace as Lance began to pet him.  A few minutes passed as Lance continued to pet him.

“Thanks for worrying about me, but it’s getting late and I’m sure Allura and the other space-mice are wondering where you went.  You should probably head back before they miss you.  Oh!” Lance exclaimed as he brought Chulatt back in front of his face.  “Before you go, can you keep this between us?  I don’t want anyone else to know I was crying.  I know crying is not a bad thing, but please?  I got some mouse treats at the space mall.  If you don’t tell, I’ll give you one.”

Chulatt tilted his head to the side in a thinking motion before gesturing to Lance, crossing his arms and shaking his head, then moving his fists to his eyes and making a crying motion.

“You’ll think about it if I stop crying?”

*Squeak*

“Alright.  You drive a hard bargain, but I’ll try to stop crying.  You’re very persuasive for such a small mouse.”

Chulatt let out an indignant *Squeak* and stomped his foot on lances palm.

“Sorry, sorry.  For such a sweet mouse.”

Chulatt beamed at the praise as Lance placed him back on top of the nightstand.

Lance opened the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out the bag of treats.  He grabbed one out of the bag and handed it to Chulatt.

“There you go.”

*Squeak*

“You’re welcome.  Goodnight.”

*Squeak* Chulatt said before he dashed back off towards Allura’s room.

Lance tried to fall asleep once more.  The voices were still present in his head, but they were much quieter now.  He soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

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“Sir, the paladins were able to defeat the cruiser and the robeast.” Acxa informed Lotor.

“I would have expected nothing less of them.  Truly remarkable.  We have their leader, and yet they remain a force to be reckoned with.” Lotor responded calmly.

“There’s more.  The green one was able to access and download the prisoner database you put on the ship, just like you said they would.” Ezor added on.

“Perfect.  They’re playing right into our hands.” Lotor stated.

“Why did you put that on there anyway?  Now they’re going to know where all of our prisoners are.” Ezor questioned.

“It’s all part of the plan.  Besides, they’re only interested in two of our prisoners.  And of those two, they are more likely to go where they believe we’re holding their leader.  That location is the only accurate information in the database.” Lotor explained.

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t have gone there and bashed some heads,” Zethrid said as she cracked her knuckles.

“All good things to those who wait.  We can chase them in circles like a yupper chasing its tail, or we can wait for them to come to us.  They have something we need.  It would do us no good to destroy them at this point.”

“Ooooh.  Are we going to trade their leader for it?” Ezor asked.

“Something like that,” Lotor said with a smug smirk on his face.

Narti pulled up some of the security feeds from the cruiser the paladins had taken down earlier.  These cameras were powered remotely by their ship, so the paladins were none the wiser to being observed and mistakenly believed that they had shut down all security feeds on board.

“Narti’s right.  We should continue to analyze the security feeds of the paladins.” Acxa said.

“Yeah!  That way we know the best way to beat them in a fight!” Zethrid exclaimed.

“Remember, there will be a fight, but we will let them get away with what they came for.” Lotor directed at Zethrid.

“As long as I get to fight the princess again, I’m happy,” Zethrid said.

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Next          Masterpost

[bubble-tea-bunny]

andromeda

[peter parker x reader]

author’s note: been working on this over the past week as time allowed. haven’t written in third person in a long ass time but the style of this story kind of necessitated it. it was an interesting change of pace but i am excited to go back to second person haha. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 11,687

[Name] used to joke Jameson was crazy enough to have a guillotine hiding somewhere in his office, and today, her speculations just might be confirmed, because he’s going to have her head.

The discordant beeping of the alarm clock starts far away, at the other end of some tunnel, and she’s moving slowly towards it, at a pace like walking, then like running, then like she’s got a train at her back and it’s pushing her forward at full speed. When the volume becomes clear and loud—and oh Christ is it loud—her eyes open suddenly, jarred to consciousness.

How long had it been going off? She doesn’t remember hitting snooze. Maybe she had, and she’d done it without fully waking up, or maybe she hadn’t, and she’d slept straight through it. Neither is good, so she figures it’s not worth trying to decide which it was. She props herself up on her elbow to look over at the clock on the nightstand, and her heart rate picks up at seeing the time. Shit.

Adrenaline courses through her veins and prompts her to stand up, kicking the blankets away. She nearly trips over herself in her haste, rummaging through her dresser for a clean button-up and skirt. Once she’s dressed, she brushes your teeth and combs through her hair, trying not to tug too hard on the knots. She hisses in pain when she pulls a little aggressively. Of all days to have nasty tangles. Eventually she gives up trying to get all of them out and ties her hair up in a ponytail.

There’s nothing prepared in the kitchen since she usually leaves herself more than enough time to make something in the morning, so instead she snatches an apple from the fruit basket. Her teeth sink into it to hold it in place as she slips on her shoes and grabs her jacket and purse. She’s out of the apartment in record time, and a glance at her watch tells her that if the trains aren’t running late today, and she walks at a brisk pace, she’ll make it.

She throws the apple core in the trash can before traipsing down the stairs of the subway station at the end of her building’s block. It’s at this moment that she realizes she left her water bottle on the kitchen counter, and she deflates slightly. She’ll just have to get water from the water cooler at work. She hopes no one tries to make smalltalk when she does. As much as [Name] likes Helen, she doesn’t really care about her son’s little league games (and their striking—no pun intended—zero loss season). Their season record is the same every year anyway.

As the train makes its stops, she can’t stop staring at her watch. For some reason it feels like the subway is lagging today, taking too long to open the doors and close them again. She wonders if the anxiety is visible on her face, because she feels like it’s obvious. Everyone else in her car looks some combination of bored and tired despite the fact it’s only 8:45 (Holy shit it’s 8:45 I am going to be so late—!) on a Monday morning. Or perhaps it’s because it’s 8:45 on a Monday morning. No one is ever ready or looking forward to heading into work for the next eight or however many hours.

She practically runs out of the train when she arrives at her stop, and skip steps going up to ground level. Good thing she wore flats today. She can see her place of work from the corner where this subway station exit leads to. There’s only one crosswalk to wait for, and then it’s a straight line to the Daily Bugle. She could do this. No problem.

The breeze kicked up by the motion of her pushing the door back to enter ruffles her ponytail. She doesn’t even give herself a chance to look at her watch again. There’s no time, and she's already so close. She yells for the man in the elevator to hold the door for her and thankfully he does. Inside, she presses the button for her floor, and grows a little annoyed that the other occupant has to get out a couple of floors below hers. Great. More waiting.

She tries to distract herself by staring at the numbers counting off the floors. When the man gets to his floor, he says Have a good day, but she’s only half-paying attention and mutters something incomprehensible that was meant to sound like You too. Once on her floor, she barely waits for the metal doors to slide apart before she squeezes between them and makes it into the office. She catches a glimpse of the clock hanging on the far wall. The hour hand is on 9 and the minute hand is on 12. Yes! She made it!

Or at least, she thought she did. She’s halted on the walk to her desk by a harsh voice calling out her last name. She closes her eyes and sighs heavily, then opens them again as she turns around to sheepishly face the one who addressed her.

“You’re thirty seconds late,” Jameson states. He doesn’t voice it but [Name] knows there’s an implied question tacked on to the end of it—Why?

“I know. I’m sorry, sir.” She doesn’t bother trying to give a reason because he wouldn’t hear any of it. There’s no excuse to be presented to a man like Jameson. “It won’t happen again.”

He crosses his arms, disapproval apparent in his eyes, and it stings. He’s already intimidating, more so when he’s angry. “It better not.” She doesn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he returns to his office, and at the sound of the door clicking back into place, she exhales.

There are some people who glance her way at the confrontation but most people don’t. Jameson chewing someone out is far from new. One of the onlookers, however, is the boy sitting across her desk, and he’s leaning back and tinkering with a pen, smiling sympathetically as she plops down in her chair,.

“Sleep past your alarm?” Liam asks.

She sets her purse under her desk and turns on her computer. “Yeah… How’d you know?”

“My super mystical powers.” Liam uses his free hand to wiggle his fingers. [Name] raises a brow, thoroughly unconvinced and unamused (though could she be blamed? It hasn’t been the greatest morning), and then he just shrugs, giving her the real answer. “You are never late for work. Never. The only way you would be is if you woke up late.”

“Well, it was a late night,” she mutters, logging in. The clack of the keyboard fills the next few moments of silence as Liam thinks about her words.

“Was it…”

“No. It wasn’t that.” She shakes her head. “I was finishing up my preliminary research for that article I’m writing. I conduct the interview today.”

“Oh, managed to get in talks with the doctor himself, did you?”

“More like with his assistant, which is the next best thing. He said in the e-mail I could stop by after lunch.” Liam nods, and [Name] changes the subject. “How’s your article going?”

“It’s… going,” he responds off-handedly. “Zero pizazz to it, honestly, but there really isn’t anything exciting about little leagues, even if one of the teams has gone 12-0 this season.”

[Name] laughs. “Try telling that to Helen.” At this, Liam laughs too.

———

Lunch is a hot dog and can of cola from the food truck that sets up shop right outside the Daily Bugle offices. One-third of the reason [Name] comes here is that it’s quick and convenient; another one-third is that it’s cheap; and the last one-third is that street dogs are just good as hell. She eats at her desk, scarfing the hot dog down as she reads the follow-up e-mail from Doctor Octavius’s assistant to remind her that he’ll be in the lab until four o’clock. He gives her his phone number at the end so she can contact him directly once she’s outside the building.

Liam watches as she takes a big bite before she brushes the crumbs off her hands and types out her reply. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you hadn’t eaten in days.”

She rolls her eyes. “I only had an apple this morning, and admittedly, I’m really nervous for the interview. This is a huge deal.”

“You’ll do fine.” Liam waves a hand dismissively. “You always do.”

His words settle in the back of [Name]’s mind when she’s on the subway again, making her way to Octavius Industries. They’re comforting, and help a little in alleviating her worries, but those concerns become more difficult to push aside as she gets closer to her destination. She wonders if this assistant will be nice, and she hopes that he is. The technology that he and Doctor Octavius are developing is too advanced for her to understand, and despite the extra research she’s done to prepare for this, she doesn’t feel like any of it has helped much. He’ll need to slow things down for her. A lot. Fingers crossed he’s patient.

There are no indications on the exterior of the brick building that let her know she’s arrived at the correct place. She double checks the address and compares it to her location on her phone’s GPS, only to see that they indeed match. With a sigh, she peers up once more at the structure before opening up her messaging app.

I’m downstairs!

[Name] hits send, and barely ten seconds has gone by when she sees three little bubbles pop up at the bottom of the chat, and then she gets her response: Great! Heading down right now!

She readjusts her bag’s strap on her shoulder, a nervous tic she’s developed over time. In the other hand she holds her phone, and she absentmindedly stares at their two-message conversation, not bothering to tap her finger on the screen to keep it lit up as it switches off, and she’s left staring at herself reflected back.

The sound of the front door opening grabs her attention and she lowers her phone to her side, looking at the boy who comes out and meets her on the sidewalk. He’s wearing a lab coat over his jeans and plaid button-up, and he grins amicably. “Hey,” he greets brightly. “I’m Peter. Doctor Octavius’s assistant.”

“I’m [Name].” [Name] smiles and shakes his outstretched hand. It’s warm. He motions towards the door and asks Shall we? and she nods, falling in step behind him as he leads her inside and in the direction of the elevator.

Octavius Industries occupies the top floor, and there’s a sign hanging to the left of the door bearing this name. It’s ordinary, and most certainly not eye-catching, which [Name] considers to be strange because she knows the scope of what Peter and Doctor Octavius are working on, if not the finer details then just the fact that it’s big, and it’s revolutionary. She figured the lab would’ve appeared more grand, at least on the outside. But she’s still awed as Peter opens the door to allow her through, and her eyes widen as she finds herself surrounded by terminals and workbenches full of tools and prosthetics in the making.

“Sorry it’s a little messy,” Peter begins, closing the door behind him and rounding [Name] to try to clean up the nearest workbench, pushing equipment to the side but stopping when he comes to the conclusion there’s too much clutter to make a difference in just a few seconds. “And it’s just me in the lab today. Doc’s been feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Hope he feels better soon.” [Name] smiles sympathetically as she grabs her notebook and a pen from her bag. She flips through for the first empty page, and as she does, Peter can see each page as they pass, and he grins a little to himself when he sees all the doodles dotted among the hastily written notes.

He listens intently as she asks her questions, and he answers them to the best of his ability while making them easy to understand. And she’s grateful because it means she can follow along, and it also means that her audience will be able to follow along too. It didn’t matter if she understood this stuff just as well as he did. Her readers most likely wouldn’t.

He leads her to one of the prosthetics resting on a table and picks up the tablet resting near by, pulling up the circuits on the screen to show her. Neuroprosthetics is certainly a difficult and still growing field, he explains, but we really feel like we’re making leaps and bounds here. [Name] can hear the passion laced in his voice when he says this, and the corner of her lips lifts into a lopsided smile.

“Does it ever feel… cramped, to work in a space like this?” She asks gently so as not to offend, motioning to the space around her. But luckily, Peter doesn’t take it badly. Instead, as soon as this gets brought up, his shoulders sag and he relaxes and he doesn’t try to hide his worries.

“It does feel like that sometimes. The funding for this project hasn’t been the greatest,” he admits solemnly. “Our funders want results before giving any more grant money, but it’s been slow. Lots of bumps to smooth out, and I know we’re on the cusp of a breakthrough. It’s just that… there hasn’t been enough time, and not enough money.”

[Name] sighs and click her pen, retracting the nib. There’s no doubt that what Peter and Doctor Octavius are working on here in this one room, this one unassuming room in some unassuming building here in New York, with the likes of Oscorp or the Avengers Tower just several subway stops away, is an incredible innovation, and another step forward into the future. How many projects have suffered the same fate, she wonders? Inventions with the potential to shift the paradigm of the world as it’s currently known, only to be stifled by a lack of funding. It all comes back to money. And it’s why she’s writing this article in the first place.

“That’s what I’m hoping to change with this article,” she tells Peter. “Maybe it’ll garner the attention of the right individuals, and you’ll get that grant money.”

Peter smiles and tucks his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “Thanks for writing this. Funding aside, I think what we’re doing is important, and it’ll be good for more people to see that.”

“Of course.”

[Name] takes her final notes on any closing remarks Peter might want to make, and when those are done, he walks her back out. She thanks him for agreeing to the interview, and he shrugs casually and says it’s no problem. Felt nice to share this project with someone else. The remark makes her smile and she thinks distantly that maybe the two of them could be friends. It certainly felt as though she’d been talking with one for the past hour. Once they’re outside, she turns to him.

“I’m aiming to have the article published sometime this week. It’s the only thing on my plate right now, so I can really focus on it.”

“I look forward to reading it!” Peter’s smile is soft and it makes her stomach flip. He probably flashes that smile at everyone, she tries to reason. That tender nature seems to just be part of him. There’s nothing between the lines to read. So don’t bother, [Name]. But still, she pretends for a moment like he doesn’t flash that grin at just anybody, and that maybe it does mean something.

Peter stays glued to his spot on the concrete walkway as he watches [Name] walk away, and only retreats back inside after she turns the corner. Someone is in the elevator when it reaches the ground floor and he stands to the side to allow them through. Back in the lab, he shrugs off the white coat and hangs it on the hook by the door. It’s just past four o’clock. Sometimes he chooses to stay later to keep working, especially if Doc is out sick, but he’s still riding a bit of a high from that interview, and he’d like to carry that with him for as long as he’s able.

The last task he carries out before leaving for the day is sending a quick e-mail to Doc about how the interview went. It’s short and simple, with comments like It went great and Get well soon. The loading bar races across the screen, and a quiet ding signals that the e-mail has been sent. After that’s done, he’s ready to go.

He opens the door, ready to lock up, and stands in the frame, hand braced on the light switch as he gives the lab a once-over. He’s thinking back to the way [Name]’s face lit up as she walked in here, into a space that he considers less than magnificent and hardly roomy enough. Yet that hardly mattered to her, and the wonder in her gaze made her look like she’d stepped into a whole other world. The thought makes him smile. She had been so sweet, he was bummed when the hour was over.

His duffel bag is hidden on the roof, and he goes to retrieve it. It’s a little earlier than usual to begin his daily patrol, but there’s no harm in that—just more time to catch criminals. He trades his regular clothes for his suit, sliding into it with practiced precision. The material hugs his form, becoming like a second skin, and he slips on the mask, allowing the eyepieces to calibrate. He perches on the ledge while it does, watching as various readouts of the HUD pop up on the periphery of his vision.

“All right then…” he murmurs, taking in the expanse of the city in front of him. He would never get tired of this. New York pulses with energy, full of life, a universe of its own, and from the tops of the highest buildings he feels like he’s walking past a display in a museum, looking down, looking in, at all the people and the cars that look like ants from so far up. And every single time, it hits him. He’s protecting a whole city, and it’s a city he loves very much.

He zips his way between buildings, police radio filtering into one of his ears. Whenever he picks up a dispatch in the area, he’s quick to make his way over. He stops a car jacking and right after helps a lady get her cat out of a tree. The latter he hadn’t heard from the radio. She’d seen him swinging by and called him over. He retrieved the feline easily; its name was Percy. Cute cat! he’d complimented, and then he was away again.

His stomach had started to grumble and he stopped by a hot dog stand to grab some food. The vendor had given it to him for free, and Peter smiled before realizing the man wouldn’t be able to see it, so he gave an audible thanks. He swings his way along to some rooftop with one hand, the other busy holding his dinner, and when he’s sitting comfortably on the edge, he rolls his mask up to just beneath his nose so he can eat.

He watches the sun set, the sky fading from orange to purple to black. The city is awash with lights, bouncing off slightly wet roads from the light drizzle that has started. He can already imagine the distinct smell of wet asphalt and it almost seems to reach his nose despite the fact he’s way off the ground. Some people have their umbrellas out, black nylon dots moving to and fro on the sidewalk and the zebra crossings.

A new dispatch comes through of a robbery just a few streets away, and Peter stands up, rolling his mask back down. He takes a few steps back and gets a running start as he jumps off the building, building up speed on the descent before slinging a new web. A couple of units respond to the call but he knows he’ll beat them there. It’s not far now.

He turns the corner and sees the canvas overhang bearing the name of the jewelry store, and he hides in the shadows to survey the criminals, counting five, dressed in black, of considerable stature and build. They’re armed to the teeth with guns, yelling at the employees to stand against the wall while they smash glass cases and stuff the valuables into bags. When he sees them making their way towards the door, he braces himself to head in, but he’s beaten to the punch.

A swift form darts down, catching them off guard as it kicks away their guns and dodges any bullets they manage to fire in their shock. Peter watches in a similar state of surprise as this figure he doesn’t recognize takes down all five of the robbers with increasing ease. He zooms in his HUD for a better view of the scene.

A mask obscures the lower half of the girl’s face, and her hair is tied in a braid to keep it out of her way. It’s hard to analyze her fully since she’s moving so quickly, and he only has a few seconds to get a good look after she takes out the final criminal. She stands in the midst of the chaos, of the bodies and the shattered glass and the shop alarms, and scans the canvas bags full of jewelry now laying out on the sidewalk, seeming to take count and make sure they’re all there. Her eyes narrow, and they look… weird. Different. Peter can’t quite describe them but he’s never seen eyes like that, and he’s still stuck on the thought of them even after she retreats and disappears in the darkness.

Pedestrians had stopped to see what was going on, and remain there, muttering to each other as the cops arrive, all loud sirens and blinking red and blue lights. Who was that? Peter can hear them saying, and he’s wondering the same thing.

He doesn’t run into her again for the remainder of the evening, but with every swing around a block, and with every crime he swoops in to stop, there’s a part of him deep down that kept hoping he would.

———

It’s another bright and beautiful day in New York and [Name] is at the office with five minutes to spare. By the time Liam arrives and shrugs off his messenger bag, taking a seat in his desk across from her, she’s three sentences into her first rough draft.

“You beat me here today,” Liam remarks playfully.

[Name] chuckles. “Didn’t want Jameson scolding me again.”

“No staying up late to do research then?”

“Staying up late doing other things, but don’t worry, I made sure to be home before midnight.”  

There’s a flash in [Name]’s gaze, and Liam takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. She isn’t looking at him, too busy typing away, and he studies her closely as he repeatedly clicks the pen he has in his hand. When he responds, his voice is hushed.  “Keep that up, and people will start asking questions.”

The statement is vague, but [Name] doesn’t need it to be clarified. She knows exactly what he’s talking about, and upon hearing it, her attention is pulled away from her word document. Her hands slides off the keyboard and drop into her lap as she stares at her friend. “Then let them,” she tells him matter-of-factly, voice equally quiet, and she shrugs.

She doesn’t let herself be distracted for too long, for she returns to writing without waiting for what Liam has to say in return. She’s determined to have this article edited and published before the end of the week. It’s what she had told Peter she would try to do, and if she’s being honest with herself, she’s excited to know what he thinks of the article when he finally reads it. As she writes, she’s brainstorming in the back of her mind supplemental questions to ask him that would lend more details to her article. And the rationalization makes perfect sense, one that hardly merits suspicion, but she’s her and she knows herself best, and she knows she’s only looking for excuses to talk to him again.  

The first draft is completed by later in the day, and she looks it over while sipping at her soda. Her lips rest absentmindedly around the straw, fingers of one hand curled around the cold aluminum can and her other hand correcting any typos she comes across. Now, the offices are hardly ever completely silent. It’s an impossible demand to have, considering that at any moment there was typing, or a ringing telephone, or the chatter of some coworkers a few desks away. But considering [Name]’s proximity to him, Liam finds it difficult to block out the noise of her slurping as the last of the carbonated liquid is consumed and she’s sucking up nothing but air. He pauses in his writing, eyes sliding over to her. She seems not to have noticed.

He opens his mouth, about to ask her to stop because it’s really distracting, but he catches her eyes flickering over to her phone, which is sitting face up on her desk, before going back to the computer screen. That’s not the first time he’d witnessed her doing that within the past hour. And he closes his mouth and furrows his brows as he wonders what that could possibly mean.

“You keep looking at your phone,” he says finally.

[Name] sits up straight, lowering the can of soda from her mouth, and the surprise on her face makes her look like a deer in headlights. “What?”

“Are you expecting a call?”

“No…” [Name] trails off, glancing down at her phone. The embarrassment at being caught makes it hard to maintain eye contact. She thought she was being so subtle too! Perhaps it’d do her good to remember who she’s dealing with here. Liam is nothing if not observant.

He’s looking at her silently now, brow raised, clearly waiting for an explanation. She almost doesn’t give one, not willing to divulge her humiliating infatuation. It just seems so elementary to have a crush the way she does currently, and “crushes” are something she considered herself to be above. But in the few seconds of the tense stare-off, it occurs to her that maybe it’s because she’s never met someone whose smile made her feel like it was summer in the middle of January. And so she cracks. Liam’s whole keep-quiet-and-they’ll-keep-talking strategy is way too effective.

“Okay!” she exclaims quietly, not wanting to draw attention. She sets her can down on the desk and holds up both hands, palms out. “I keep trying to think of questions to ask Peter Parker, the one I went to interview yesterday, but honestly the article is as detailed as it can get without being redundant and I’m this”—she brings her thumb and index finger close together, leaving a small gap between them—“close to just making up something random so I can talk to him.”

There’s a flush to her cheeks and it’s endearing, it is, but she’s so mortified at the confession that Liam can’t help chuckling. “[Name] [Last Name] flustered?” he questions playfully. “He must be special.”

She groans, burying her face in her hands. “Is it bad if I say yeah, he is despite the fact I’ve only had one conversation with him and it was about his work?”

“No.” Liam shakes his head. “If you like him, you like him. Give him a call.”

[Name] peeks between her fingers to look at her friend. His grin is encouraging, and she sits up and grabs her phone. Her thumb hovers over the screen, poised to navigate to her contacts list, but she can’t bring herself to go through with it. What would she even talk about? It’s an internal battle, one that she really does not want to be having right now at work. Eventually she sighs and sets her phone back down. “I will, just… not now.”

Liam nods in understanding. “Fair enough.” And that signals the end of it. She’ll always be grateful he never pushes the envelope on things. That’s not pressure she needs.

———

As soon as the article is cleared for publishing, [Name] takes a look at all the other articles that will be going into tomorrow’s paper alongside it. She has a plan for her piece that she’s hoping she’ll be able to carry out, and the ease with which she can argue her case with Jameson all depends on what else is going to be published. For most of it, she’s in the clear, and with every headline she scans, her assurance grows. But the final one at the bottom stops her short, and she heaves a sigh.

Liam hears it and asks if she’s okay, taking a second to spare a glance at her while writing in his notebook, and she shrugs and says I don’t know. No, she can’t just roll over that easily. She might be walking into an argument with a significant disadvantage, but she’s practiced for this! All those years of college writing and debate got her ready. A burst of confidence shoots through her and she stands, but bit by bit that confidence whittles away the closer she gets to the lion’s den. Now that she thinks about it, she’s not so sure that preparation counts for anything considering who she’s up against…

She knocks on the door, three curt raps—any fewer and he wouldn’t hear, any more and he’d complain she was making an unnecessary racket. “Mister Jameson?”

There’s a grunt, her cue to enter, and she twists the knob, pushing the door open. She steps into the office and closes it behind her, and the noises from outside with all the other employees is silenced. Jameson is sitting in his chair, papers littered across his desk and a cigar sitting in his mouth.

“What is it?” he questions gruffly. He never tries to hide his impatience, and it’s whipped everyone into shape. Always prompt, all the time.  

“I was wondering if my piece on Octavius Industries could headline tomorrow’s edition.” [Name] comes right out with it, and she rushes to explain herself before Jameson can shoot her down. “It’s just that I think it’s a really important article, and eye-catching too. So I figured it’d make a good… page one spread…” Her initial firm tone fades to one of timidity as she trails off at the end. Jameson doesn’t appear convinced in the slightest, and now she’s wondering if she’d been a fool to bring this up.

He grasps his cigar between his index and middle fingers and blows a puff of smoke. It floats in the air between them briefly before dissipating. “No can do. There’s a new piece on Spider-Man ready to go. Spider-Man: Super-Hero or Super-Zero?” As he quotes the article title, he sits back in his chair, sweeping his hand from left to right, envisioning the way it would look in print.

[Name] purses her lips and while Jameson takes those few moments to get lost in his thoughts (and distaste for the red and blue vigilante), she contemplates if she should keep trying. Is it worth the effort at this point? Well, she is already in here. Go big or go home, right? “Don’t you think it’d be nice to have something different on the front page this time? Something fresh.”

“What do you mean? We had Fisk on the front page last week!”

“I guess what I mean to say is… maybe it would do the paper good to take a step back from having vigilantes and criminals making page one. At least once.”

It’s quiet again and Jameson stares at her, the cigar replaced between his lips. She can’t tell what’s going through his mind, and a part of her is nervous he’s going to explode. When he gets really mad, it’s easy to hear his yells from outside his office. And whoever has been chewed out always looks humiliated and like they’re five seconds away from crying (or at least shedding a tear or two). She forces a polite smile onto her face as she waits.

“You know,” he starts, and she flinches ever so slightly, for she’d been so sure she was about to be yelled at (she hopes he hadn’t noticed but if he did, he doesn’t say anything), “I like you, [Name]. You’re a hard worker. So I’ll tell you what: your piece can take page two.”

This is the stopping point. She’s not about to argue any farther, lest her article get pushed back more. So she nods. “That sounds great! Page 2 is just as fantastic. Thank you, sir.”

Jameson grunts, grabs his cigar again. There’s another plume of smoke. “Now if that’s all…” He makes a shooing motion with his hand. She’s dismissed.

Liam looks up at [Name] as she sits back down at her desk, and he tilts his head as he analyzes her distraught expression. “I can’t tell if your talk with Jameson was successful or not.”

“It went fine, but it could’ve gone better. Jameson’s not pushing the Spider-Man article for tomorrow. So I have page two.” She huffs.

“Page two is still good!”

“But come on, Liam! Another Spider-Man article?” The exasperation in her voice is apparent, and as she continues, her voice lowers to ensure no one can overhear. “I don’t understand why he’s so set on this smear campaign…”

Liam smiles sympathetically. Reasons for her disagreement with Jameson’s stance on Spider-Man run deeper than they do for the average New Yorker. Spider-Man’s a vigilante, but he does a lot of good, she’d said once when looking at one of the many Daily Bugle front page spreads on the web slinger—a negative one, as always. She wished Jameson and people like him would understand that. He’s not the bad guy.

“Well who knows,” Liam speculates. “Maybe something will come along eventually that’ll grab Jameson’s attention enough to make it page one instead of good ol’ Spidey.”

[Name] lets out a breath as she laughs, and it toes the line of disbelief. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Even if her conversation with Jameson hadn’t been as successful as she was hoping, her spirits are lifted again because now that her article is about to come out, she can finally talk to Peter again. Not that she hadn’t been able to before, but this is a perfectly legitimate reason. She won’t be left a stuttering mess trying to scramble for topics that aren’t about the weather.

But for all that excitement, she struggles to actually make the call. She spends most of the commute home switching between staring at his contact on her phone and shoving her phone back in her bag. It’s not until she’s gotten off the subway at her stop and is on her street that she finally gets the nerve to call him.

It rings three times, and then she hears him. “Hello?”

“Hey, Peter!” she greets. “It’s [Name].”

“Hey, yourself! What’s up?”

“I was just calling to tell you my article’s been cleared for publishing. It’s going up tomorrow.”

“What? That’s great! I can’t wait to read it.”

She can sense his excitement, and it’s entirely genuine. It makes her cheeks warm and her smile wide. A gust of wind kicked up by a passing public transport bus blows her hair around and she runs a hand through it to tame it. “Not quite front page though I’m afraid. I tried, but I was competing with a Spider-Man article, and you know how Jameson is.”

Peter chuckles. “I do. But to be honest, that doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you wrote that piece at all. You’re getting the word out.”

He’s right, she realizes. Her motivation from the start had been to draw attention to Octavius Industries. She’d been hoping to have the front page for maximum exposure, but in her talk with Jameson today her motivations had blurred together, and it turned into wanting to have the main headline for the sake of avoiding an over-saturation of Spider-Man articles (though it is a little late for that). She sympathizes with Spider-Man a lot more than other people do, relates to him a lot more they they do, and Jameson’s smear campaigns never sat well with her because of that. But when looking at the situation from her original purpose, to show what Peter and Doctor Octavius are doing, page two isn’t bad. Not by a long shot.  

“I’m really glad I decided to write this piece, and I hope you like it,” [Name] states.

“I already know I will.”

The remark and the ease with which he says it makes butterflies flutter in her stomach. She feels like she could take off with wings of her own and she’s trying to pull herself back down to earth. Neither of them speaks for a few beats, and [Name] wonders if this is the point where she says goodbye. But she doesn’t want to, she wants to keep talking to him and hear his voice, and she wracks her brain for something else to talk about. What the hell! She hadn’t planned this far.  

But Peter beats her to to it, and not quite in a way she expected. “You know, not that I’m annoyed by it or anything, because I’m not, but you could’ve texted me this too. Is there any particular reason you decided to call instead?”

She sputters, and Peter laughs. Her face feels hot as she enters her apartment building and makes a beeline for the elevator. This is so embarrassing! (In the midst of this embarrassment she notes his laugh is really cute.) “W-Well, I just—” She groans in frustration at her sudden inability to piece together a sentence, so she takes a deep breath and starts over.

“You were so easy to talk to the other day when I was at the lab, and I don’t know… I just wanted to do it again. I like talking to you,” she admits shyly.

When Peter doesn’t respond right away, she automatically assumes the worst. Oh no. Had she moved too quickly? Did he not feel the same way? Her eyes slide closed as she mentally prepares herself for rejection. Nice job, [Name], just assuming this could go anywhere. It was just one interview, and it only lasted one hour—

“How about we talk in person then?” Peter’s suggestion interrupts her train of thought. “Maybe over some pizza?”

[Name]’s eyes open just as the elevator dings, and she gets out, walking down the hall toward her flat. “Yeah…” she replies quietly, but then she clears her throat and speaks up. “Yeah, I’d like that.” With every word her lips curve into a smile, and she bites at her lip lest she smile so big her face cracks.

They agree to meet at New Park Pizza tomorrow, and Peter’s grinning from ear to ear as he says goodbye and hangs up. The corner of his HUD reads Call ended and he misses [Name]’s voice already. He’s crouched on the ledge of some skyscraper in Manhattan where the air is cool and crisp. Up here, the birds are his company, weaving their way through buildings. One flies above his head and he swears he could run the tip of his suited fingers along its soft down if he were to extend his arm above him.

He stands slowly, toes hanging off the edge, surveying the streets below. There’s the familiar blinking of police sirens that are nothing but blips at this distance, and he’s too far to hear them. But what he does hear is the dispatch coming in through the radio. It’s nowhere near as pleasant to listen to as [Name] had been.

Peter’s eyes narrow, his suit’s eyepieces narrowing in turn. That police car must be on its way to the scene. A couple of birds stretch their wings from their perch not much farther down the ledge from him, and they take flight, swooping down and finding their path flittering among the towers. He follows suit, jumping off the edge, and there’s the familiar sensation of his stomach dropping as he seems to float in the air for a few seconds in silence. And then he’s diving, speed building, wind roaring in his ears, and the blare of the sirens and the honks of the yellow cabs grow clearer with every foot he falls. Adrenaline fills his veins and it’s nothing new, but the novelty won’t ever be lost on him. He shoots a web to pull himself forward, and another, and another. He’ll get there before that police cruiser does.

It turns out to be a drug bust down by the docks. Apparently a big one too, since as Peter gets closer, he can see the guns blazing. The police are using their open car doors to shield themselves from the bullets, but he gets right in the middle of the action. He releases two webs so he can slingshot himself into the first man, feet hitting his chest at full speed and knocking him down to the ground.

“Having a party without me?” he asks, hand going to his chest in feigned offense as he looks at the rest of the criminals. “I have to admit, I’m a little hurt, you guys.” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response (though he doubts they would have any except to shoot at him) before he’s on them, maneuvering and avoiding the bullets with a precision and fluidity that’d be otherwise absent without his Spidey senses.

Cover Spider-Man! Peter can hear one of the officers yelling. The job is done quickly. Disarming the criminals came first, and then webbing them to the ground or telephone poles or what have you was a piece of cake. At the end of it, he stands in the center to observe his work, hands poised on his hips. He nods in approval. He did clean up nicely.

He freezes when another dispatch comes in. It’s for a mugging in the vicinity. He wastes no time in shooting another web and pulling himself up and away, back towards the streets, and he frees up a hand to wave as some of the police yell out a thanks for the assist.

Rounding a corner, he spots another police car pulled over on the curb. The lights flash colors to match his suit, but the siren is off. From the looks of it, the mugger’s already been caught, and the lady he’d stolen from is clutching her bag against her chest. Rather than swinging right by or turning around in search of another crime that needs stopping, he swings along until he can settle on top of the building the cruiser is parked in front of. He’s thirty feet off the ground but as he listens in, the voices are clear as day.

“I’m telling you, it was crazy!” the mugger exclaims. Peter tilts his head in confusion. Obviously he had begun to eavesdrop on an already ongoing conversation. “Her eyes looked like stars! A sky full of them!”

“Sure. Okay.” The police offer doesn’t believe a word of it, shaking his head and guiding the suspect into the back of his car.

But it does grab Peter’s attention. That description is familiar. He lifts his gaze and surveys the tops of what buildings he can see from his vantage point, as though he’ll catch a glimpse of her somewhere. She’s out there tonight, patrolling the streets like he is. She stopped this mugging before he could get here. Surely she couldn’t have gone far. If there are any more dispatches from this area, he’s willing to bet she’ll be at the scene.

As if on cue, another call comes through: bank robbery on 14th. Only a few blocks away. Peter heads in that direction, hoping his assumption had been correct.  

It seems the bank has been cleared of civilians by now. Only the robbers remain inside, and they open fire on any officers who try to come inside. The windows are shattered and the alarm is shrill and grating. The noise makes Peter’s ears ring, and he can hardly hear himself think in the ensuing chaos. There’s a flash of movement inside, and suddenly one of the robbers falls to the ground in a crumpled heap, fingers loosely grasping his weapon. Peter inhales sharply. That had to be her.

He wastes no time entering the building, colliding with one of the men and kicking him back into a wall, effectively knocking him out. One down. Peter turns his attention to the rest of his surroundings and his impromptu partner for the ordeal. She moves swiftly from one criminal to another, all of whom look so brutish in comparison with clunky armor and big guns. Her movements make her hard to catch, and she’s too close range to be shot at. He can tell she’s trying to separate them to prevent them from teaming up, and he does the same, making sure they’re spread out so he can take them down safely without risking getting caught from behind.

With two of them, subduing all the robbers goes by fast, and they mostly stay out of each other’s way. Peter’s fine with that. The girl looks perfectly capable of taking down her share. Besides, she has her methods, and he doesn’t want to interrupt. He knocks one of the few left down to the ground and webs him, and suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stand, his senses beginning to buzz.

He whips around in time to see the final criminal, tall and all muscle, seconds away from barreling into him with a tackle, but there’s no contact, and instead a lithe leg sweeps across his knees and forces him to the cold tiled floors. The girl seems to fly into his space before he can react, hand flying to his pressure point and squeezing. And then he’s out like a light.

Peter won’t lie: he’s impressed. He’d watched her in action the other night, but it’s an entirely different experience up close, especially as he’s working alongside her this time. As she stands straighter, he can finally get a good, proper look at her. He’s drawn to her eyes, no longer viewing them from a zoomed in HUD, and he understands why the mugger had pointed them out, and why the officer wasn’t convinced what the mugger was saying was even real.

Instead of a sclera with iris and pupil, her lashes frame deep pools of black. No, a sky of black. That mugger had been more accurate. Flecks of white dot the expanse like stars. Peter’s reminded of little marbles that seem to hold the galaxy in them, and it’s hard to look away.

“Thanks,” he says, motioning to the unconscious robber laying between them, but he quiets down immediately when she holds a finger up to her masked mouth. She’s noticed something he hadn’t, and he wonders what, because they’re the only two still standing in the lobby. Her head turns in the direction of the open door behind the counter, and he follows her line of sight.

She starts walking in that direction, and he trails behind. They step over bodies and discarded weapons and wads of cash, footfalls completely silent. Through the door and down the stairs is the vault, which is slightly opened. From where they are, they can’t see inside. Peter catches on: there’s someone inside. She looks at him and he nods before setting his hands on the heavy vault door and waiting for her to get in position. Their exchange is wordless as he raises a hand to count off: three, two, one.

Peter yanks the door back with an ease that comes from his superhuman strength, and the girl braces herself to pounce on whoever is in there. But her stance relaxes as they both take in the bank teller cowering in the corner, tears streaming down her face. She’d tucked her face into her drawn up knees as the door opened, prepared for the worst, and she peeks up to see who had found her. She lets out a breath of relief at spotting her saviors standing at the entrance.

“It’s okay,” Peter starts, approaching slowly. She’s in shock, and he doesn’t want to make it worse. He has his palms out, and when directly in front of her, he bends down to gently pick her up, one arm behind her back and the other at the bend of her knees. The girl had known the bank teller was in here. But how? Did it have something to do with her eyes?

He wants to ask but figures questions like that are a little too on the nose considering they hardly know each other. Perhaps later down the road. He turns back toward the vault exit—she’s not standing there anymore. Not wanting to jostle the lady in his arms, he walks briskly rather than run out of the vault, and he looks left and right for any sign of her. He sees her at the emergency exit, one he knows leads to the alley between this building and the one next door, but he calls out to her before she can leave.

“Hey, wait!”

She halts and slowly her gaze turns to him, waiting for what he has to say. But then Peter realizes he has no idea where to start. He hadn’t actually expected her to stop. Does he say thanks? Does he ask who she is? Does he ask Why now? Because he has never seen her around until now but she seems to know this city just as well he does, so surely she’s been in New York for a long while.

All the questions are good, but it’s a matter of deciding which to ask first. However, all this debating back and forth within himself causes him to run out of what little time she’d allotted for him to speak to her, and he’s forced to watch as she leans back on the push bar and slips through the gap, there one second, and gone the very next.

He sighs in disappointment at coming away with no answers, but doesn’t dwell on it too long. The police are sure to be inside already, cuffing all the perps. He carries the woman back upstairs, and as she does, she asks who that was just now. I don’t know, he responds truthfully. But he wishes he did.

———

He’s running late.

Upon this realization, he’d groaned, but it’s not exactly like he could ignore the stolen armored truck plowing down Canal Street. He slings a web onto its roof, pulling himself atop it, and the drive starts to zig zag back and forth even more than he had been before in an effort to knock him off, but Peter sticks to the vehicle easily. He crawls along the side, making sure to stay out of view of the passenger-side window.

“So I’ve got a date,” he announces, shouting to be heard over the noise of cars honking and veering out of the way, “and I really don’t appreciate that you guys are gonna make me late!”

The man in the passenger seat sticks his gun out the window, but Peter is quick to grab it and tug it out of his grip. He webs it into place against the side of the truck before pulling the man out as well, who he drops on the sidewalk to be picked up by one of the police cars speeding after the rogue vehicle.

“She’s the sweetest girl too. I need this date to go perfectly!” Peter crawls to the driver’s side now, and when the man frees up a hand to shoot him, he webs that hand so he can’t pull the trigger. Then he yanks him out of the seat, leaving him similarly abandoned on the ground, and climbs into the cabin, taking control of the wheel. He maneuvers the huge truck around other cars and slows it down, bit by bit until he comes to a complete stop right before a stoplight. It turns red when he puts the truck in park.

He crawls out, standing on the roof again, and looks down the street behind him. Traffic has all but stopped. Cars have swerved to the sides of the road and crowds of people have gathered on the sidewalk to ogle at the aftermath. Some of them take out their phones to take pictures. A stream of police cars come to a stop, and now that they’re there, Peter takes his leave. The time is displayed on the lower left corner of his HUD. If he’s fast, he wouldn’t be too late. Maybe five minutes tops. He’s got this.

———

[Name] sits in the corner booth of New Park Pizza and stares out the window, head resting on her propped up hand. Two glasses of water are on the table and the laminated menus sit undisturbed in the center. It’s three minutes past the agreed upon meeting time, and she wonders if her concern at Peter’s distinct absence is an overreaction. She’s almost inclined to text Liam and ask what he thinks, but it’s mostly because she’s getting antsy and needs a distraction.

No, don’t freak out, she tells herself. Maybe the trains are running a little behind. Yeah, that’s it. He’d be here. Peter doesn’t seem like the type to just bail. Still, even with this assurance, she’s jittery, and she starts to dig through her bag for her phone. Talking to Liam would be the only way to calm her down. Whenever he assures her of things, she always believes him.

The bell above the door jingles as a patron enters, and [Name] glances up to find Peter standing there, looking around for her. When he spots her, he smiles and it’s apologetic. Her hand slips out of her bag and she smiles back, sitting up as he slides into the shiny vinyl booth across from her.

“I”m sorry I’m late,” he says right out the gate. “I just got held up with some things and—”

“Don’t worry about it,” [Name] responds, waving a hand.

Peter’s smile shifts to one of thanks at the reassurance, and, more at ease now, he slides one of the menus toward himself and changes the topic to what would have been his original conversation starter, if he hadn’t come in late. “I read your article this morning.”

[Name]’s head snaps up from looking at her own menu, and she watches him in equal parts eagerness and nervousness, waiting for what he has to say. She doesn’t say it out loud, but the question is apparent in her eyes: And? What’d you think? Peter almost doesn’t want to answer right away, skirt around the subject, prolong his final opinion, if only to witness that overwhelming sense of curiosity written on her face. She’s hanging on every word, or will, anyway, once they leave his mouth.

“I thought it was great.” That’s not the full extent of his response, but it’s enough to make her eyes light up and her face break out into a toothy grin, unable to contain her joy. As much as he likes to see her curious gaze filled to the brim with interest, he likes seeing her smile more. It makes his heart twist a little—a minute and diminutive but not at all insignificant tightening of his chest, there to point his brain in the right direction.

“You explained our work really clearly,” he continues on, giving more detailed feedback because he knows it’s helpful to her as a journalist. “You made a good case for Octavius Industries. I can’t ever thank you enough for deciding to write this.”

[Name] takes a deep breath, shoulders lifting as her whole body puffs up, and she exhales and relaxes steadily. She’s putting together the words. “It felt… right to me, to do it. Sometimes the little guys get pushed under the rug, but they deserve a chance just as much as anyone else.”

Peter smiles softly. He thinks he can see the compassion that flows through her veins, can hear it pounding in his ears like it courses through his own. There’s care in everything she says, written and verbal, and he’s wondering where she’s been all his life. “And,” he adds on quietly, “if not for this article, we wouldn’t have met.”

She picks at the corner of her menu as she stares at him, fully processing his words, and the graceful curve of her lips is enough to turn him into ice cream on a hot summer day. Neither of them says anything, watching one another with the mutual realization that this is turning out to be more than shallow infatuation. The tips of Peter’s fingers twitch like there’s a current of electricity flittering between them both, like they’re two magnets slowly pulling together, and then colliding all at once. It’s a sense of connection almost scary in its strength, but he doesn’t fight it because she doesn’t either.

“Are you ready to order?”

Peter and [Name] are pulled back to reality as the waiter approaches, notepad out and pencil in hand. They stammer as they actually take a good look at their menus for the first time since they got to talking, and hastily decide upon a pepperoni pizza. The waiter writes the order down with a nod and collects the menus, then gives them one final smile before returning to the kitchen.

Asking for more time wouldn’t have been an issue, but they were so flustered from being interrupted that it hadn’t crossed their minds. They glance at each other again, little smirks on their faces, and then they can’t contain their laughs.

Pepperoni pizza might be a little lowbrow considering how many other options New Park Pizza offers, but it’s perfect to them. They grab slices off the tray, watching in awe the strings of cheese that stretch as they pull. Conversations are easy and laid-back and wonderful. [Name]’s eyes glimmer in the light of the setting sun outside New Park Pizza’s windows, and Peter feels like he’s known her for forever.

———

[Name] sits back in her chair, flipping through her notes. They’re messier than usual this time. The man she’d interviewed spoke a mile a minute and she was half-expecting her hand to spontaneously combust in its efforts to keep up. Her head tilts as she tries to decipher one word that looks like nothing more than chicken scratch. She’s about to lean across to Liam to ask if he can figure it out, but movement in her peripherals grabs her attention.

A man she doesn’t recognize is being led by the secretary to Jameson’s office. He’s gripping a manila folder and nods to her in thanks when she lets him in. The moment the door clicks shut, she turns to look at Liam, who’s already looking at her, similarly confused.

“Who was that?” she asks.

Liam shrugs. “Beats me.”

[Name]’s brows furrow. She gives one last glance at Jameson’s door before forcing herself to return to her work.

It’s not much longer until the man emerges again and takes his leave. [Name] finds herself distracted once more as she follows his retreating form. Just to take a break from staring at her ugly scrawling, she reasons, but it’s more than that. She glances at his hands: no more folder. Did he have something to offer Jameson? But what? Clearly it had piqued his interest. She’s itching to know more, and briefly wonders if Jameson would tell her if she asked.

However, it seems bringing it up herself wouldn’t be necessary, because said man opens his door wide enough to stand in the gap. “[Name],” he calls so he can be heard across the room. “Come in here.”

[Name] uncrosses her legs and sits straight, dropping her notebook on her desk with a quiet thwack! Her eyes slide over to Liam. It seems like they’ll be learning what that was all about. He smiles encouragingly and nods his head in the direction of Jameson’s still slightly ajar door. She walks over, slipping through the gap and shutting it behind her. Jameson is standing on the other side of his desk, leaning forward with his hands braced on the wooden surface.

He cuts to the chase. “What are you working on right now?”

“I’m writing about that new exhibit down at the Met.”

“Well you can forget about it.”

“Sir?” [Name] is even more lost now.

“Take a seat.” Jameson points at one of the two chairs opposite his desk, and she does as he instructs. “The gentleman you no doubt saw come in here just now had some fascinating photos to show me.”

Great. More photos of Spider-Man. [Name] represses a sigh, and though she really doesn’t care to, when Jameson twists the folder around and slides it closer to her, she picks it up and opens it to examine the contents inside. Except it’s not pictures of Spider-Man. It’s not pictures of anything she could’ve begun to expect when she saw that man come in with this folder in his possession.

The figure in the photographs seems to almost disappear in its dark suit against a dark sky. A mask conceals the bottom half of its face and darker still than its outfit or the nighttime backdrop of every snapshot are its eyes, black ink with white specks like stars. One shot is slightly closer, albeit grainy, but that vigilant gaze is nonetheless more pronounced and seems to be a more accurate representation of outer space than the sky looming in the back, nothing but a plain canvas, its details obscured by the plethora of city lights.

[Name]’s heart rate picks up as she goes through the photos. There aren’t many, and some are too far or too blurry to be usable, but it’s the fact these had been taken at all. She desperately tries to hide her shock. To be surprised at viewing these wouldn’t be out of the ordinary— since these are, of course, what just might be the first exclusive look at New York’s most recent night crawler, whose existence was making rounds purely by word of mouth considering its elusiveness, and its propensity for the shadows. But the level of shock [Name] is doing her best to hide goes beyond that, and would warrant suspicion, perhaps even leading to questions she would rather not answer.

She inhales deeply, willing her heartbeat to slow, and she forces her eyes away from the pictures in her hands to look at Jameson. “But what does this have to do with me dropping my current article?” Her voice doesn’t shake. Good.

“Because I want you to write this piece,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You weren’t able to land page one with your last article, so here’s your chance to do it.”

[Name]’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Holy shit. Holy shit. “Wow, uh, thank you, sir!” she forces herself to speak. Her breathlessness as her brain tries to make sense of this situation makes her feel like she’s just run a mile or three.

Jameson nods and motions to the photos, and she gives them back. He spreads them out on the desk, facing him, and he pores over them silently. She wrenches her hands in her lap and her gaze switches back and forth between the glossy pictures and Jameson’s face. His expression is unreadable, and she can’t begin to guess what he might be thinking.

“First, she needs a name,” he declares. [Name] isn’t sure if he wants any input but plays it safe and keeps her mouth shut. It’s quiet again, and her eyes narrow the longer she sits there, curious as to what sorts of names Jameson is going through in his head. Suddenly he snaps his fingers and looks at her, and she jumps a little in surprise at the quick movement.

“I got it.” He stands up straight.

[Name] exits his office with the manila folder tucked under her arm. Liam glances up, looking at her expectantly, but she doesn’t return to her desk. Continuing to walk past, she nudges her head in the direction of the break room, and he stands immediately and follows after her. Luckily there’s no one in there, and she leans against the counter. Her eyes don’t give anything away.

“So?” he inquires.

[Name] almost can’t answer, still feeling the effects of being caught off guard as hard as she had been. It’s like she took a nasty punch to the temple. She’s reeling. She looks down at the folder in her hand, and Liam follows her gaze, and finally she settles for simply holding it out to him. He takes it and opens it, and his eyes widen, much like hers had when she first saw those photographs.

“Someone managed to take a few shots,” she explains. “Jameson wants it on the front page and he wants me to write the article.”

“Oh my god.” It’s the only thing Liam can think to say. He’s too engrossed looking at the pictures.

“You were right, Li. People are asking questions, and it only makes sense they want answers.”

Liam sighs and closes the folder. “The irony of this whole scenario is palpable.”

[Name] hums, one of agreement and disbelief at the predicament she finds herself in, so ridiculous it’s almost silly. “Jameson even gave me a name to use, to help frame a narrative.”

Liam tilts his head, and she reaches in her pocket for the small piece of paper. He unfolds it and a grin overtakes his face as he reads what’s written there, in all capital letters. It mirrors [Name]’s when he looks at her.

———

“Andromeda, huh?”

Peter holds up the newest edition of The Daily Bugle and surveys the large headline on the front, reading Andromeda Emerges from the Shadows! It’s accompanied by a photo of said vigilante.

“Yep.” [Name] walks into the living room after having set her purse in the bedroom. “Jameson came up with it. Said it was because of the way her eyes look. Reminded him of constellations.”

“I have to admit, it’s pretty creative.”

[Name] nods in agreement. “It is. I doubt I could’ve thought of anything that good.” She takes a seat next to him, also observing the front page spread. “Do you think she and Spider-Man would be friends?”

The question is aimless musing, hanging in the air as [Name] leans her head on his shoulder. But it makes Peter think, makes him wonder. Would they be? This Andromeda hadn’t exactly been the talkative type. Perhaps over time she would be. They had already stopped multiple crimes together. Ever since the bank heist, they’d run into each other now and again, and the whole duration of their encounters remained wordless. But there was a sense of respect between the two, and Peter considers it progress.

“Maybe,” he replies, turning his head to lay a quick kiss on [Name]’s head.

Her stomach growls then, and she stands up. “Can we start dinner now?”

Peter chuckles and drops the newspaper onto the coffee table. “Yeah.” He trails behind her, and as they enter the kitchen, he widens his strides until he’s close enough to reach out his arm and wrap it around her waist, pulling her into him.

She lets out a quiet oof! as her back collides with his chest, and she sets one hand on the arm securing her in place. He kisses a trail from her cheek to her neck to her shoulder and she’s giggly and squirmy but with his grip, she isn’t going anywhere.

“Stop!” she breathes out, and it’s interspersed with laughs. He doesn’t stop, grinning against her skin. “I’m hungry!” The last word comes out like a whine when his lips pass over a particularly sensitive patch and she’s caught between laughing and gasping in delight.

Peter finally lets up, and he’s laughing as his arm loosens, allowing her to pull away. She turns to him and shakes her head playfully, gradually regaining her breath. “You’re about to have the best curry of your life,” he states as he walks up to the counter where all the ingredients are laid out.

[Name] stands next to him, assuming the role of assistant chef tonight. “Show me how it’s done then!”

The next time he runs into Andromeda, Peter decides he’ll mention the Daily Bugle article. Maybe then she’ll talk. Even if they don’t become friends, at the very least, they could be partners. Two is better than one. But he doesn’t dwell on these thoughts for long, as another one of [Name]’s laughs fills the kitchen. It makes him smile fondly. There are more important things to focus on right now.

[percontaion-points]

Covet chapters 104-107

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 104

Nuri gave us a week, but here she is after only three days going back on her word.

I can’t even pretend to be shocked that Flint’s shitty mom is being shitty again. 

“You gave in to a vampire—you gave in to Cyrus, who you hate—because you’re as weak and power-hungry as the rest of them.” 

“Grace, stop,” Uncle Finn tells me, and there’s a warning in his voice— in his eyes—that I’m going too far.

WELL, SOMEBODY HAS TO TAKE THESE ASSHOLES DOWN SEVERAL PEGS. MIGHT AS WELL BE THE LITTLE GIRL THAT THEY’VE SHAT ALL OVER FOR THE PAST YEAR. 

“You’ve lost any support you might have had from me,” she hisses.

This is a joke, right? Even when Grace made the deal with Nuri literally not even three days ago, she knew that Nuri was so goddamned full of shit.

Nuri showing up and arresting Hudson after three days instead of the promised week is simply proving Grace right. 

“All right, then.” Nuri swings around to her guards. “You heard her. Seize the gargoyle.” And just like that, my life changes. Again.

Chapter 104 summary: Grace feels as though the actual graduation ceremony is beyond underwhelming. Especially considering that there are four different groups of supernatural creatures. There’s no pizazz… There’s no showmanship!

Hudson comes over to her later, and things are stupid awkward between them. She apologises for having tried to help Jaxon. He says that she’s got nothing to apologise about; that he loves his brother, too, and obviously wants to help him. 

Right then, Nuri comes over and arrests Hudson again. In doing so, not only is she breaking her promise with Grace, but Finn also reminds her that the school is supposed to be safe grounds. Nuri flaunts some newly changed law that any law-breakers can be arrested so long as they’re not actually students at the school. Finn says that you simply cannot change the law and tell nobody about this. 

Grace and Nuri get into it, as which Grace calls Nuri a lily-livered chicken-shit with no real power. Nuri calls Grace an immature baby. As Nuri takes Hudson away, Grace says that it’s her right as Hudson’s mate to go with him. She tells Finn that Macy will explain everything later, and she’s hauled away, too. 

Chapter 105

“He’s my son, Finn.” She looks devastated. “I’ve given Cyrus everything he wants. Why would he do this?”

Did this lady wake up and take an extra dose of her stupid pills this morning or what? She’s got a negative IQ if she thinks that Cyrus was EVER on her side!

I can’t wrap my head around it as they walk us into the forest—and straight into a portal that Cyrus obviously had opened for just this occasion. Then again, I realize I don’t have to imagine it. I’ll be seeing it firsthand soon enough.

Chapter 105 summary: Nuri’s guards are more than a little rough with slapping the cuffs onto Grace. 

After Grace has been handcuffed with the anti-magic cuffs (which I’d like to remind you are fucking pointless), Cyrus comes over and issues an arrest warrant for Flint. For trying to kill the last gargoyle. Grace is floored by the man’s audacity… Mainly because practically everybody there already knows that he’s so goddamned full of shit. 

The only one who’s more floored than Grace is Nuri. She legit thought that siding with him and doing everything he wanted was somehow going to protect her and her family. Grace wants to rub it into her face, but she doesn’t like kicking people when they’re down. 

After Finn breaks up the would-be fight between Cyrus and Nuri, Nuri goes over to her son. She tells him that since Grace is still alive, all Flint has to do is “atone for his sins”, and then he’ll be out of there in no time. 

Grace wonders exactly what kind of a place that this is, but then remembers that she’ll be there soon anyway. 

Chapter 106

I take a deep breath and reach for the ring…and can’t do it. Removing it now would be like giving up on Hudson. On us. And I know I will have to eventually to save Jaxon, but I can’t do it today. I’m not ready to lose him yet. “I’ll keep it.”

Chapter 106 summary: Grace falls through the portal, where she comes face to face with a scary lady. I’m pretty sure that she’s a medusa. The woman takes Grace’s gargoyle powers, which freaks Grace out more than anything. She makes Grace stand in a small box, where wind blasts her, and then there’s some fire that doesn’t quite touch Grace. 

After that, she makes Grace change into a black prison jumpsuit, and takes all of Grace’s jewellery. But not the promise ring. She tells Grace that the prison is not a “get out of promises” card. Grace doesn’t know what Hudson promised her, but decides to keep the ring on. 

Chapter 107

And that’s before a low, terrifying growl comes from seemingly nowhere and makes every hair on my body stand straight up.

Chapter 107 summary: The lady takes Grace to some sort of processing room, which despite being staffed by zombie-looking creatures, is so ordinary and mundane that Grace feels a little better. Hudson and eventually Flint come in after her, and the guards who were taking care of the initial processing leave. 

As they’re sitting there, the boys say that the check-in people were Basilisks, not medusas. Flint will not stop talking about some prisoner named Remy, and asks a bunch of times to be put in a cell with him. As they’re being led away, they ask who Remy is. Flint said that it was the last thing his mom said to him. 

The zombie-creatures shove the three of them into a room, but rather than a room, it’s a chute that dumps them out somewhere. The thing that might be Remy starts growling, and scares Grace something fierce. 

[wisepuma23]

Flowers For A Ghost - Chapter 10

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Logan panted as he looked around the sprawling city. He pulled Roman along behind him as they looked frantically for a hiding place from Lamia, crashing into different merchants' shops and tents through the cramped streets. Roman shouted apologies behind him as Logan searched for a way out. He had to.

They both flinched at the terrified screams of fairies behind them as Lamia stomped behind them.

"We have to hide!" Roman shouted next to him.

"I know! Just give me a minute to think!"

"There isn't much time for thinking, pocket watch!"

Logan finally saw a dark alley with stairs that led up to the roof. Maybe they could run over rooftops and escape that way? Yes!

Logan pulled Roman behind him into the dark alley that smelled strongly of curdled milk and rotting meat. He rushed upwards toward the roof with Roman's loud clanking on the metallic steps behind him.

It was then that Logan realized they were truly in deep shit.

"Shit. Shit, shit — we are so screwed." Logan moaned with his head in his hands. The rooftops weren't connected to the others. It was impossible to escape.

Roman rushed forward to the edge and squinted at the yawning distance of the closest rooftop. Logan grabbed Roman's shirt. Don’t even think about it, Roman.

Logan whipped around as he heard distant footsteps coming from the stairwell. Roman turned around, his pale face gaunt in the soft oranges of the sky turning from cloudy grey. The sun was arriving soon. It’ll be their first sunrise. Logan wished with all of his heart it could arrive faster.

A tuft of purple hair peeked over the wall. No, it couldn’t be. Logan pushed past Roman as his feet already ran, knowing who it was, hoping against hope. Yes it was! He heard a grunt as Virgil pushed himself up the last few steps of the stairwell. Dad!

“Roman? Logan?” Virgil said surprised, his brown eyes wide as he peeked over the wall, “Oh thank god, you’re okay!”

Logan was swept up into his father’s arms. Tears welled up in his eyes as Papa’s arms surrounded him. Forehead kissed and another tight hug was all Logan could handle before his tears slipped out.

“Papa!” Logan cried as he wrapped his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry! I tried to stay strong for Roman like you told me to. And I did get to punch some ‘smarmy assholes’. I told Roman to stay where we were and then there was talking animals! Weird beast things! Nothing makes sense here. I want to go home.”

Virgil set Logan down and kneeled down to his level.

“Honestly? You did great, kiddo.” He thumbed over to where Patton was kissing the living bejesus out of Roman despite his embarrassed squeals. He looks fine to me. You took care of Roman pretty well. He’s not easy to look after. I should know! I thought he’d be the death of me.”

Virgil ruffled his hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“Was what Mom said true?” Logan said leaning into Virgil’s side. “That we’re demons?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Man, high school is gonna suck. ”

His father shook with laughter next to him. “Dude, you’re going to meet kids way more demonic than you or Roman will ever be. You got this, alright? And you need to join some clubs! Like I don’t know, chess. Meet friends, don’t play D&D in the basement like I did, even if it’s really fun.” The two of them turned to look at the other half of their family with soft smiles.

Patton swung Roman around. “Who do I love?”

“Me,” Roman said as he tried to squirm out of his arms.

“Come on, I can’t hear you!”

“Daaaaadddd!” Roman groaned, “I’m not five anymore! Put me down!!! Gah, Dad, stop!!!”

Patton smirked as he hauled Roman up higher. “I can’t hear you!”

“Me!!!” Roman shouted, a smile making a way onto his face despite his valiant efforts. Peals of laughter echoed in the chilled air. Patton set Roman down with a twirl, dizzy, as Roman stumbled against his dad’s side. Patton bops Roman’s nose and smiles as he pulled his finger away from Roman’s instinctual chop.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Logan’s neck and screamed as he was pulled back. His father fell down to the pavement with a grunt. He clawed at the hand around his neck, but it was like made of steel. He twisted his head around to take a look. His face paled.

It was Lamia.

Her eyes were wild and her sharp teeth glistened in the first rays of the sunrise.

Lamia thrusted Logan higher until his legs kicked at empty air.

“Stay back or I break him like a goddamn twig.”

Patton held his hands out. “Okay, okay.”

“Let him go!” Virgil shouted, he stood up, purple flames flared to life along his arms. Lamia cocked her head at the action. She held Logan up higher as her fingers creaked around his soft throat. He had to do something.

Patton hugged him from behind, yanking him back, Virgil’s wrath wavered as he heard Patton’s voice racked with desperation. He could throw a fireball but the risk was too great. Logan was going to get hurt no matter what he did.  

“Fine. Stop, stop!” Virgil shouted, his voice shaky with withheld tears.

Lamia smirked. “Start walking, slowly, we’re trading places.”

Virgil glared as he stood by Patton and Roman. Roman’s heart was loud in his ears. His brother was in danger! This entire time, Logan has saved him over and over again. What kind of brother was he that didn’t save him too? A horrid one!

Virgil put a hand on his shoulder to push him into walking. Lamia slowly circled around until they stood by the staircase to the alley down. The mercenary’s messy ponytail framed by the rising sun made her look like a beast in the shadows cast on her face. Logan twisted in her grip, but to no avail.

He had to save him!

“Roman!” Patton screamed, as Roman ran headfirst into her in a blur. “No!”

His head snapped back from her fist. Ow! Her free hand clamped down on his neck while he was down. No. No, no; his legs kicked out into empty air as fingers clamped tightly around his neck.

“Two of a set,” Lamia laughed at the two boys struggling uselessly in her grip. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

“Logan!” Roman cried, reaching out to find his brother, fingers outstretched to their limits. Lamia’s fingers tightened and his hand fell away. Roman gasped as stars danced in front of him. His lungs burned as he drew in short gulps. He can’t die here. Please not here. Fear threatened to swallow him.

“Roman!” Logan shouted, then glared at Lamia as he rasped out a defiant promise through his purpling throat. “Don’t...hurt...him…”

No. He wasn’t going to be a coward anymore!

“I’m not afraid of you anymore!” Roman said, tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m not scared. I have my brother here with me! I’m Roman–” He clawed at her fingers until he felt a little give and he gulped in the extra air, then he looked at his dads and his brother as he said finally– “and I’m brave.”

“I know you are, honey,” Patton said gently, then his eyes hardened as he looked up at Lamia. “What do you want?”

“A way out of here.” Lamia glanced behind her and then stepped back until Roman could heard the distant clamor of the fae marketplace far below; it was only a short jump away. “These boys are my ticket out of Alice Wonderland,” she continued, “and you aren’t stopping me.”

“I can open a portal for you right now and—” Virgil’s hair floated up with a crackle of magic.

“And who the fuck are you?” Lamia sneered. “You’re probably one of them . So can it, you fairy.”

Virgil’s hair didn’t relax; instead it became brighter with its purple glow. “Get away from our sons. I won’t ask again, GI Jane. Put them down.”

Lamia twitched as more hair fell in front of her face. Patton stepped forward, face dark as he eyed the two of them, already assessing on how to take her down. Lamia let out a snarl and Patton reluctantly backed off. Lamia’s breaths were loud in the muffled silence of a sunrise. Her fingers started to slide on Roman’s throat from his sweat. Or hers. It was hard to tell. Wait. He had an idea.

“Make your portals,” Lamia snapped.

“We found out we were demons only like yester—”

“Now!”

Logan snapped his mouth shut. Roman met his brother’s eyes as he twisted to look at him. Dark blue eyes so familiar, yet so alien to see them filled with fear. His brother always seemed to figure something out. Whether it was to shout an argument, bury a broken vase, or tell him that his drawings were good. That he didn’t need to hide them. Roman remembered his dream, the new one, of working together as brothers in the real world. A fashion line so popular that even David Bowie lauded their creativity and pizazz.

If Logan couldn’t do something, then Roman had to. His neck was slick with sweat, thanks to his overactive fear response, even if it made deodorant expensive. He wiggled in Lamia’s meaty fingers. He was almost there. Just another wiggle!

“Do it!” Lamia barked as she noticed Logan’s now faint blue glow, but none from Roman, “Make a damn portal or I’ll break your brother’s fucking neck.”

Logan’s squeak was cut off by a creak of her fingers. Roman felt a hot white flash up his body. Images of his brother’s broken body ran through his imagination. His fathers dead and dying on the roof. He ignored his little voice of logic that sounded eerily like his own brother; that pointed out ghosts can’t die. Rivers of blood and bleached bones and purple bruises fueled the fire in his soul. The deep yawning dark of nonexistence whispered from his nightmares. The flames roared over the pitiful cries of his fear. No.

“No, ” Roman snarled.

“What did you just say?”

Her fingers slid off his neck and Roman crumpled onto the floor. It worked! He ignored the loud shouts from his dads to run. He was sick of running. The sun peeked through the grey clouds of morning and he felt his smile grow into a sharp one as he felt the sun’s gentle touch on his cheeks. He was going to fight!

“I’m not afraid anymore!” Roman shouted, he brought his shaking fists up, just like his brother taught him. “You should be afraid of me. ”

Silence echoed through the rooftop. Roman grinned at Lamia’s stunned look. Logan pushed through his shock and started to struggle again. Patton called gently out to him, please get back, he shook his head. Roman turned around and flashed a cocky grin and wink at his fathers. Virgil’s face was pale, then slipped into a nervous smile. Patton stepped forward, about to grab Roman away despite his newfound bravery.

He’s got this. The foul villain was thrown off her rhythm; street smarts! She was cornered with nowhere to go. Dad and Papa was right here with him. He bet Logan even had a plan! There was no way he was going to lose!

Lamia laughed. Low and gleeful. Her brown eyes hollow as if all sanity has left the building.  Roman stepped back, his bravado gone like mist. What was seriously her problem?! His throat swallowed. Maybe this wasn’t an easy villain. Tch, no matter, final boss battles never were! His button smashes in Mortal Kombat attested to that!

His eyes glanced to Logan, his struggling and kicking has only worsened. He ignored his brother’s vehement hisses to run, run you idiot, please. Logan’s portal was slowly coming into being, dark blue with swirling stars like magical sequins. His hair floating up with ethereal magic echoing the faint drums of Hell.

Gritting his teeth and tensing his knuckles, Roman ran headon at Lamia. Lamia threw a punch, Roman smirked as he dodged it. He grabbed her forearm and bit down hard into the iron muscles underneath. She screamed. Logan gasped as he was thrusted higher into the sky like he was a sought after TV remote. Roman held on tight as Lamia slammed him against the brick wall.

“Let,” slam, “my” punch, “brother”, his skull cracked, “go!!” he screamed. Blood ran down into his eyes. The taste of iron filled his mouth. Eugh, he hoped he didn’t catch crazy. Lamia snarled as Roman kept hitting her. Knuckles cracked and bleed open. His muscles screamed for relief. His teeth clamped down on her fingers. More blood spurted in his mouth. At this, she howled, and finally snapped.

Lamia’s hand shot out and yanked on Roman’s shirt. He clawed on Lamia’s face, racking down stark red lines. Lamia grinned as she stared at Roman as she held him up by the nape of his neck like a troublesome cat. He might be short, but he was five feet and six inches full of rage! He kicked at her chest hard enough until he felt things crack under his boots.

Lamia didn’t even wince. Instead she grinned wider.

“The thing about portals,” Lamia crooned as she held him closer, brown eyes filing his vision, “is that I just need one.”

Roman’s eyes widened. No, wait, this wasn’t supposed to happen! Roman snarled as he charged forward to bite her entire face off. Better to die nobly than live a coward.

Lamia thrusted him off the roof.

The roar of the wind and Patton’s guttural scream followed his fall. His bloody fingers clawing at nothing. Logan! He was leaving Logan behind! Dad! Anyone! Save me! The blue sky above him like a blanket tucking him in for the long night of everlasting sleep. He closed his eyes with a sigh, at least he was good for something after all. Then everything slammed to a sudden screeching halt.

.

.

.

Logan screamed, “Roman!”

But there was no answer — only the faint confused clamor of the merchants below, and the whistle of the wind. Sobs wrenched through him and he wanted to puke. Tears blurred his vision as all feeling left his body. The fingers around his throat, the burn of his lungs; all of it faded away.

His soul had just been cleaved apart.

“Roman!”

“Shut up, little brat!” Lamia spat. Sobs echoed from his crumpled fathers. Virgil pulled Patton against his chest as his shoulders shook with the loss of his son.

The crackle of the portal pulled at Logan’s soul. Magic deep from within stopped with a sickening lurch.

With a pop, the portal was gone. He was never going to let this murderer go home.

“No!” Lamia shouted as she threw Logan to the ground. “You piece of—”

A boot swung toward his face. His head snapped back onto the pavement. Stars burst in his eyes. Glass shattered distantly. His frames sat crushed in front of him, and blood dripped down his gums. His shoulders shook as he spat out a glob of blood onto the rooftop. His cheek throbbed and spurted with blood from the abuse. Tears over his burgeoning bruises made him whimper as he curled into a fetal position. His so-called bravery that Rom...his brother lauded him for, it was gone, gone with him.

There was no point.

He had no brother to be brave for.

To fight for.

No glasses, no brother, and no bravery. He was alone.

Lamia stomped closer. Virgil’s crackling magic filled the air but it was too late. Always too late. It was up to him. Lamia was too close to aim properly without hurting Logan too. By her grin, she knew it. It was all up to him, for the first time, Logan had to fight for himself.

I don’t know how, he thought to himself. Magic rolled inside of him like a tidal wave, foreign and acquired from this plane.

A manicured claw reached out to him, and the shadow of her fingers eclipsed the rising sun. His eyes wide open, fighting his instinctual desire to shut them.

It was then, he wondered if Roman died with his eyes open.

“Come on, nerd!” Roman shouted over the roar of the parade. “We’re going to miss it!”

Logan squeezed past the warm bodies to hold onto his brother’s hand tightly, not wanting to lose him. He turned around to see his fathers lounging on a picnic blanket on a hill, above the eager crowds, Patton giggling as Virgil put sunscreen on him. Blech.

Roman yanked on his arm harder and with a yelp they finally pushed past the insurmountable wall of adults and kids alike.

It was Buzz Lightyear!

All thought stuttered to a stop as he saw the man wave in the shimmering sunlight of hot noon. It’s him! The hero pushed a few buttons on his arm and with a swoop, his wings popped open. Just like his toy at home! Whoa… A finger poked him in the cheek. Logan startled from his stupor and turned to glare at Roman. The parade float puttered its way down the street. The moment gone.

“Were you starstruck?” Roman smirked.

“I didn’t know they had Buzz Lightyear this year! I know it’s been out for two years but did you know, Roman?” Logan exclaimed, “He looked so cool! Wow. I want to be like him.”

“A toy?”

“No!” Logan scowled, “An astronaut!!” His smile faded. “But well… I can’t be an astronaut. Even if it’s really cool.”

The roars of the crowd faded as he remembered Roman’s head tilt. His dark brown eyes that weren’t Patton’s pale azure or Logan’s cerulean. The sweat on his brother’s brow and those dorky cowboy swim trunks he wore that summer July. Only a few months before Virgil died that fall. Before their entire family changed.

“Why not? I bet you’d be a really cool astronaut. Even better than Buzz!”

“Cause you won’t be there,” Logan admitted with a sigh,.“I don’t want to leave without you.”

Roman ruffled his hair and pulled into a headlock, Logan whined. “Noooo!! Roman stop! Gack! I take it back, I’m going to space and leaving you behind. Aaaah, not the ear!”

Roman let him go with a beam, “Don’t worry about me! I’m a cowboy, someone has to take care of Earth while you’re gone, Lo.”

“I...suppose you’re right.”

He blinked. Something soft rippled beneath his fingers. It convulsed and shuddered as blood burst beneath his black claws. It was a throat. Something cracked to the left of him. His eyes shot to the sound quicker than he processed it.

A purpled arm sat lifeless on the movement, twisted and gorged until it was unrecognizable. Teeth marks bright like pink flowers among a lavender field. His eyes zeroed on the source of the crack; it was a manicured fingernail torn away from the nail bed, the last to join its brethren on the gravel.

No.

He didn’t—

“ ‘Course I am!” Roman laughed, “Do you think we can convince Dad to let us stay to see the fireworks?”

He shut his eyes. Drew in a shaky breath through his nose. He steeled himself to look. Eyes bulged out of her skull, her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, he could see all the way back to her molars. Her chest did another convulsion underneath him. Logan licked his lips and warm blood that wasn’t his own buzzed his senses instead of disgust. The iron metallic taste became heady as caramel toast with a lather of honey. It was too much sugar to be healthy. His tongue bumped against his teeth, sharpened to a point; almost like a dog’s but worse. Blood, more blood, he needed more.

More.

“Logan?” Patton whispered.

Dad, dad, echoed in his mind. Spit dribbled out of the corner of the creature’s mouth. Disgusting.

Its throat croaked as he dug his claws deeper. Why didn’t it die already? Die, die — the word echoed in his mind. Empty of everything but burning hatred. And memories that hurt too much to remember.

“We can’t tell Dad!” Roman shouted as they stood over a broken vase. Dad was late again from his shift. Logan reached down to pick up the pieces. Roman stopped him with a shake of his head. “Get some gloves, nerd. Pick this up and throw it in the trash, out of sight out of mind, right? Dad would get mad if he saw it.”

“Logan, honey?” Patton repeated again, his voice gentle behind him. Dad. His stomach dropped. Trouble, he doesn't want trouble; he's a grade A student. It would be on his record. The principal would call Dad and then he'll hear the disappointed lecture on the way home. Home? Where was that? Logan snarled at the encroaching memories.

"It's just me, Lo lo," Patton soothed, "It's okay. Let her go. It's over. My starlight, please, listen to me. I'm right here." His voice wavered. "Can you hear me from where you are? I know it's dark and scary but your Dad is always right here."

His newly attuned ears heard the soft drip of tears splashing against the pavement.

"Come home. This isn't you, Logan. Wake up. I'm here. How are you feeling? Talk to me."

"More," Logan rasped. "No. I don't want to get into trouble. I did something bad. I'm sorry."

He heard a sniffle. "It's okay. Daddy will be with you even if you do something bad, okay?"

"It was Roman's idea, we buried your favorite vase in the rose bushes," Logan swallowed as more tears splashed down. "I'm sorry. Roman lied and I should've been a better role model. Then he wouldn't lie."

"K-kiddo–" Patton's voice was wet– "it's okay. I forgive you. Both you and Ro-ro-Roman."

Logan stood up, his claws tight around the paling throat. He ignored the cries to step back. His hackles rose he felt a dark presence barrel right at his exposed back. His mind went blank for a moment as hot rage filled his vision. How dare—

His thought ended.

The whistle of the wind set his aching soul back into his body.

Logan saw terrified eyes pleading him for mercy. Lamia’s legs dangled over the edge, it’s arms and hands too broken to even grapple for escape, like his brother did. For a moment, he turned his eyes to the rest of the sunrise and took in the ravaged land. Shops overturned and fires spiraling into the air. He took a breath. Savoring the unadulterated fear of the mortal before him.

He threw the broken vase into the rose bushes below.

Logan crouched down on the wall and grinned as he heard the satisfying shatter. Music, music to his ears, his ears. The creature twitched, gasped, and then went still. The vase was so exceedingly fragile that it was a wonder that Roman hadn't broken it before now. Logan stepped off the ledge and turned around. Away from his misdeed.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Virgil stared up at him from the opposite wall. His form flickered weakly. Patton sat next to him, pressing his hands to a wound on his arm, fussing over him. Dad doesn't know, so he wasn't in trouble, he was a grade A student.

"I want to go home. Please. I don’t feel so good. Dad...” Logan swayed and dropped to his knees. His head spun and sick threatened to come up. He focused on his broken glasses in front of him, they reflected black eyes squinting down at it; is that him? His eyes were blue, right?

He didn’t know anything anymore.

“Logan!” his fathers cried out in unison. They ran forward to hug him. Virgil and Patton squeezed him until he felt his heart pop in his chest. A hand ran through his floating hair and brushed gently against his horns. His head was nudged forward into an old jacket that’s been in the wash so many times the colors washed out. His breath shuddered into the warm chest and the thumping of the heartbeat underneath was a soothing drum. Black claws dug into the soft fabric like a lifeline.

“I’m going to rub your back now, okay? But try to remember what you learned,” Virgil said as he rubbed his back slowly in circles. “Breathe in for four seconds–” Logan sucked in air hungrily– “and hold your breath for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Now breathe out for eight seconds.”

After a few minutes, his horns disappeared back into his skull, his claws faded away, and like a floodgate flung open, thoughts rushed back into his head. Tears sprang anew from his eyes as he clutched Patton and sobbed. He didn’t– why did he– oh god. What have I?

All of his fear, hurt, and anger finally released, not through violence, but tears so thick he couldn’t see. Patton rocked his son, his only son, in his lap.

He held on tight to the small body in his arms despite how much it shook like a leaf in the wind. Virgil sang gently to him an old lullaby, but it only made him cry even harder until Patton was sure he was going to puke.

Patton leant down and kissed his brow. “You can rest now, kiddo. You did great, I am so proud of you.” He wiped away the boy’s tears as he glanced at Virgil.

“...Heaven is a lovely place to be, Roman will love it there. He can play everyday and every night. He’s happier now.”

Logan wiped away snot on the collar of his shirt with a sniffle. “He’d be happier alive.”

Patton sighed as he gave a wobbly smile that was too sad to be real. “I know. Your brother will miss you very much. And he loves you to the moon and back.”

Sunlight twinkled over the rooftop and the torn landscape of the nether world. The two bodies lied at the center of the market square shimmered with the slick of blood in the early sun. Merchants chattered about the new addition. It was strange, stupendous, cultural! Who left such a bold landscaping choice? The sun rose higher in the sky as the merchants lost interest and stepped over the bodies with no regard. Soon, the sun lost sight of them in the crowds of the fae marketplace.

The world spun on quite happily with one less demon in the world.

[heightsneverseen38-blog]

Ravenclaw Sweater Tops The Merch Charts

Ravenclaw Sweater are a huge part of Irish heritage, notably in the Aran Islands the place the sweaters originate. For Ravenclaw Sweatshirt follow the link here.

It can be quite troublesome to get this sort of sweater to look good, and it is probably more suitable for individuals who are more nicely built. Others could by no means give sweater storage a thought and just hold sweaters within the closet with plastic hangers.

Ravenclaw Sweater;

Since the first sweater version was a bit too broad between the wings and drooped within the front, she used string to take it in for a more cosy fit-like the revised sweaters I've made. Wear a red excessive-neck sweater with a pair of white linen pants to your Saturday evening movie date. Sweaters not only serve to cover the poor, bare hens' exposed skin as a barrier from the chilly, but additionally they protect from the other chickens' pure tendency to peck away on the exposed areas of their peers. A brown vest could be matched with pinstripes or a different pattern, colors of the shirt needs to be complimentary, in fact. The sweater artesian will then take 4 to eight sweaters that blend well along with color, distinction and lots of of those beautiful sweaters even make an announcement.

You would not go exterior in the midst of winter or head out throughout rainy weather carrying just your normal garments and a pair of flip-flops, so be sure that your pet can be dressed appropriately always! If you end up putting your sweater back, you must understand that hanging them may cause dents in the shoulders or can make them pull out of form.

Knitted fabrics are typically considerably elastic and have a softer hand (feel or drape) than woven fabric, sweaters which are more tightly fitted or have a soft drape might conform effectively to the body without requiring tailoring obligatory in a woven garment corresponding to darts, flares and gores.

Some women are pear shaped with a smaller upper physique and waist than their backside and legs. I've been on the hunt for cute sweater cuffs that may make good coffee coozies :) Cherished this lens! Buying from wool sweater online store can really help folks in settling upon the very best deal and also valuing funding.

Picture this: lots of Ravenclaw Sweater, sorted by coloration and ready to be made right into a one-of-a-form sweater only for the reward recipient at Christmas. In the course of the cooler climate months when chickens are likely to molt, they lose some or (in some instances) most of their feathers.

Starting from asymmetrical sweaters to belted sweater wraps and sleeveless sweaters these woolen garments can raise one's fashion quotient up just a few notches. There are some suggestions girls have to find out about it before shopping for it to avoid misappropriates appears. This item is actually impressed by the Nightmare on Elm Road films, so it doesn't simply have a sweater. Learn that again and ponder the message you might be sending ladies along with your vibe. Principally plus measurement ladies tops are appropriate when is matched with a pair of leggings. Layering and the benefit with which it permits for temperature regulation is a significant advantage of the sweater as an article of clothing. I was recently at a craft festival the place somebody was promoting mitten produced from recycled sweaters. This merchandise has a whole lot of different stuff for guy avatars, however the sweater appears great on anyone.

Fashionistas throughout the global substratum exemplify how a trendy asymmetrical sweater wrap can rev up one's complete look. Care is taken so that the wool retains its pure oils (lanolin) which give the knitted sweaters their water-resistant high quality. Long beaded neck items or colorful scarves on a stable chilly dress could make heads turn. A warm little sweater or coat on a cold day can make being outdoors a more pleasant expertise for your tiny pooch.

Guests to Vancouver Island or the Cowichan Valley could spot these distinctive sweaters in shops across the West Coast area and they may even see locals sporting them. The grey stripe was a boy's sweater, I minimize the higher a part of the sleeve, after felting both sweaters, then I minimize the cuffs from a black cashmere ladies sweater.

With so many to choose from, to call a number of can be the Patagonian lambswool cardigan sweater which is created from super-smooth three-gauge lambswool. In addition to, we will add some trend accessories when carrying the dress resembling belts or bracelets with a purpose to create more trendy looks. My husband is into felting (all the time haunting our native thrift shops for wool sweaters) so I am going to have to indicate him this. Solutions for the office social gathering include silk blouses and skirt/trousers for ladies, smart trousers and shirt or t-shirt plus jacket for men. I'd recommend to hen owners to not depart your birds unattended while they are sporting sweaters.

In the present day, many of these sweaters are machine-made, but the handmade Aran sweaters can still be bought, though they price significantly more. Sweaters additionally serve to protect injured/rescued hens whereas they heal, they usually permit the hens to remain with their flock reasonably than being separated during the transition.

That stated, there isn't any doubt that earlier than the islanders started making what are at present known as Aran sweaters, they made the same kind of sweater. Crippled canines and cats who spend much or all of their time mendacity down can develop sore spots from sweaters which have underbelly fasteners. Sweater, when the temperature rise to 21 degrees Celsius (70 degrees Fahrenheit) or more, for men, sweater subject is very simple: don't put on. It's now a coveted piece of clothing each amongst women and men and has found a place in wardrobes of all those fashionistas. Supersoft crew neck sweaters are simple to throw on and go for a busy day, however they're good with our womens jeans for extra relaxed moments, too. If the dress has a low neckline, crew it with a thin sweater in a corresponding shade to provide you a whole new look.

This is because machines cannot reproduce lots of the intricate stitches which are seen in Ravenclaw Sweater knitted by hand. First I felted the sweater by inserting it in a pillow case tied shut and washed it with gentle soap for about 30 minutes in extremely popular water. These sweaters won't itch as much as wool sweaters and an individual ought to nonetheless feel snug whereas carrying it. Wool blend sweaters are normally much less cumbersome, however can nonetheless preserve the physique heat. Chunky bracelets and earrings are great equipment to wear with the trendy costume. Did you know that the majority girls knitters made intentional errors in their knitting, so that if a body was recovered after a sea accident, they would be able to identify the body simpler.

Machine-made sweaters are noticeably totally different as they are usually produced from finer wool and have considerably less advanced patterns. Myntra's collection of sweaters is simply what you could brighten gray winter days. They are essentially the most designed to be worn with a pair of leggings pants and every other outfit that matches it. It will depend on the colo0r of the ladies tops that tell one the colour of the pants to be worn. You possibly can add some pizazz to your look by teaming a solid coloration sweater gown with patterned or vibrant shade tights. Rolling a sweater is a much better solution and might assist you to put more of them away in a smaller space. Then seventh and the final tip is to convey your dog with you whenever you buy a dog sweater.

The federal government has designated the Cowichan sweater as an object of national historic significance. These beautiful and sturdy wool sweaters had their genesis with the West Coast Salish people. The cashmere wool has a silky and luxurious touch which makes the cashmere sweater a novel high quality and expensively priced. It isn't simply the top of wool sweaters kinds quite there's a wide variety that continues to be unexplored. So here I'll talk about just a few several types of sweaters you can buy for men.

I was within the mall, at a clothing store, about to carry out a plan to steal a sweater. If I am not busy upcycling old sweaters.. - I may be writing on Squidoo or using my motorbike. Whatever may be your style or style, a properly designed sweater can add oodles of panache to your look. Sweaters are gorgeous tops and a should have because there's at all times one for each occasion they usually come in a million completely different designs which are available in varied shades of random colours! However, many historians agree that these sweaters probably have more recent origins - only courting again to the early 1900s.

Particularly on days when a canine feels arthritic, a dog sweater or coat will provide aid to keep their our bodies at ease. It could possibly be mentioned that the Cowichan sweater tells the story of the Coast Salish knitters and their journey previous poverty and racism. The high quality woollen sweaters are available in numerous pure blends (fibres that increase the wear and tear-potential like stretching) and totally- usual interweaves. In addition to purebred dogs, there are numerous blended-breed canine whose need for sweaters is just as vital. So this means that you should purchase a canine sweater that can do this type of job for your pet. As fishing within the stormy Atlantic was typically harmful work, if a fisherman had been misplaced at sea, he could be identified by the design on his sweater.

The cashmere sweater is among the highest quality forms of sweater as it is constructed from cashmere wool which is taken from the cashmere domestic goats. Because of their bulk, sweaters are by far the most confusing and complicated accessory to retailer. This sort of sweater is nice to wear for outside actions and through raining season. Look fierce by carrying a cropped black or brown ladies's vest with a free, frilly shirt. However, you possibly can change the look of your costume by simply including some fascinating accessories. A girl's winter wardrobe is hardly equipped for the season's festivities with no fabulous sweater.

Designers have wrecked a pleasing havoc within the line of ladies's casual attire, particularly in sweaters. Men will opt for sharp and 'man about city' whereas women need attractive and glamorous. These winter coats for women are in numerous lengths and rely upon a girls taste and preferences. Strive teaming a protracted sleeved ribbed entrance open sweater with black leggings and a white shirt. The Aran islands have been residence to communities of fishermen for centuries and it was they who first wore these sweaters. The funny thing is, the emotions I felt throughout this ordeal have been the same emotions I felt after I approached ladies after I was younger. Also within the spirit of selling, these sweaters are sometimes called fishermen's sweaters to additional drive the point dwelling that Aran sweaters were worn by fishermen.

Thirdly, you'll be able to store for these dog sweaters at many native pet stores which are in your area or yow will discover these in many on-line pet shops. While the men of the Aran islands fished, their wives wove these beautiful cream-coloured sweaters to guard them from the bitter chilly of the Atlantic. Patterns similar to those used in Aran sweaters have been found on Irish megaliths as well as in pictures discovered in the Guide of Kells. The plus measurement girls tops are enticing and make somebody in them appear smart and sexy. Or perhaps a striped sweater shrug with a short costume and boots can be extra your fashion. Whereas the sweater is what we are looking at here, the item also has hair, glasses, and extra. The massive storage bags that will let you collapse things right down to a small width are a good way to retailer your total sweater collection.

Males are extra fortunate in that they can mix and match accessories with a swimsuit which is less complicated and much less time consuming. Since this discovery concerning the properties of wool, the wives of the fishermen improvised a form of sweater for their husbands. Citation wanted Sweatshirts are also almost completely casual apparel and never dressy as some other sweaters could also be. Sweatshirts might or could not have a hood, and will or might not have a zipper. For those who only wore your sweater briefly and find it is not dirty, you can deodorize it by hanging it in the sunshine briefly.

With a purpose to be more noticeable with this sweaters pair it with a straight leg pants, or a skinny jeans if you have skinny legs. A trendy black sweater dress can look professional, in addition to being simple to jazz up for after work actions.

Baja's near-perfect weather is likely one of the most desirable qualities for snow-sure and humidity-soaked explorers like yourself. A Mad Males impressed pencil skirt and designer sweater worn with pointed courtroom footwear and gold earrings will move muster as will a midi dress or a sensible trouser go well with. This legend may have its origins in advertising with the aim of creating an virtually mystical really feel surrounding the sweaters so as to sell extra sweaters. They come in all kinds made for all sorts of occasions from hanging out in the mall to attending events and what's more sweaters are made out of various kinds of supplies so you possibly can pick what fits you best for Ravenclaw Sweater.