#(but it kinda felt like A Choice was made right there on the tin so.......whatever's inside......................Choices.)

[nachosncheezies]

Real talk and I'm like a couple seasons away still but

When the younger historian in me first heard that they'd named not just one but fully FOUR episodes "My Struggle".............. well let's just say there was a certain kind of feeling.

[misora-msby]

night drive

rating : mature

word count : 1.9k

themes : fluff, fwb, mutual pining, implied sex, drug use (alcohol and marijuana)

notes : originally from my ao3, thought i might post it here as well :) // you can kinda imagine this is an au where atsumu’s not doing volleyball in college because this dude would definitely take care of his body better than this as an athlete lmfao

miya 🤢 : “im driving over rn. be ready in 10?”

You grimaced slightly. Atsumu always did this; he’d text late at night, insisting to meet up without giving you much of a choice.

“bitch it’s so late and i literally just finished my assignment gimme a break”

Your reply was read and within a few seconds you received a reply;

miya 🤢 : “Sorry! I’m driving right now and will reply later.”

An annoyed groan escaped you at the use of the automatic reply function. You knew he definitely read the message. It was just like Tsumu to do this.

Throwing on a light cardigan and applying a bit of lip gloss, you grabbed your phone and a little tin box you always brought along on your drives with Atsumu. After stuffing them into the pockets of your sweatpants, you double checked your appearance in the full length mirror by the door. A spray of perfume was used and you slipped on a comfy pair of sneakers before exiting the flat to wait at the entrance of the building.

As promised, Atsumu arrived and you got into the passenger seat of the car. It was a little messy and you had to dust off some crumbs on the seat but it smelt just of him and the cologne he loved to use.

“You gotta stop doing this. Especially the impromptu texting.” you muttered, leaning back in the seat as he began driving.

“But ya always agree to it anyways. And as promised, I never do it on a Tuesday, Friday, or Sunday night, just like ya asked.” he hummed while giving the smirk you hated but loved. And as much as you hated to agree, he was right.

Six months ago, you two had been set up on a blind date with each other by some friends. Miya Atsumu, known as a notorious flirt all his life, and you, a regular student just looking for a change in life. The date itself didn’t go too well but the sex that followed was incredible and so you two had continued with this agreement for the past half year.

And here you were now; on a drive to someplace out of town, a packet of cigarettes to share in the cupholder while the little tin in your pocket contained something a little stronger to smoke. And not to forget the cooler in the backseat which most likely contained at least two bottles of beer.

“Fine… you’re right.” you sighed, crossing your arms as you kept your eyes on the road to try and guess where you two were driving.

“Hey, doll. Light me a cig, would ya?” Atsumu asked. As always, you pulled out the stick of tobacco from the packet and lit it before passing it to him. He took a long draw on it before rolling down the window to breathe it out.

“I don’t get how you’re still so fuckin’ handsome after all the ciggies and drinks you take.” you muttered while taking the cigarette from his hand to have your own draw of it.

“Same goes to you, doll.”

“... T-Thanks.” you muttered while reaching back to grab a beer from his cooler.

Neither of you saw it but there may have been the slightest flush on both of your cheeks.

After that, the drive was silent for half an hour, save for the soft R&B that played and the occasional humming from Atsumu. It was always like this, and somehow the two of you had grown to like it. As much as you complained over and over about it, you enjoyed it. Enjoyed the thrill, the sex, the debauchery, and strangely, the company.

“This place looks good.” his smooth voice hummed while turning into a forest. It was dark and a little scary with how cramped it felt with the towering trees, but your pride refused to let him know that. Plus, you knew you wouldn’t be thinking about it for much longer. He parked his car in a decent spot and unfastened his seatbelt before turning to face you who was just a little drowsy from the beer you had. “There’s a real pretty place I wanna go in there. But first…” Atsumu’s eyes looked darker than ever as he placed a hand on your thigh.

No words had to be said before lips were locked and soft moans were pulled from your lips. It only took a few more seconds before you were both scrambling into the backseat, with him pushing you down onto your back as he grinded his strong hips into your more delicate self. The kiss ensued, though at this point it was hard to call it a kiss as it seemed more like a battle between lips. He groaned softly as he felt your fingers entangle themselves in his blond locks.

The two of you pulled away for a second to gaze into each other’s eyes, dark with lust and passion.

“You taste like beer,” he chuckled while wiping off a little bit of saliva from the corner of your lips with his thumb. His touch was strangely soft, contrasting the way he had kissed you just seconds before.

“Yeah? You taste like nicotine.” you replied with a slight grin on your face. He replicated that smile, a rare sight from him, before resuming your kiss.

* ･ ゜ﾟ ･ * : . ｡ . . ｡ . : * • * : . ｡ . . ｡ . : * ･ ゜ﾟ ･ *

“Think you can walk over to that place I was talkin’ ‘bout?” Atsumu asked while pulling his sweatpants back up.

“Hmm… I don’t know, you were pretty rough tonight. You might have to carry me,” you laughed while putting your own clothes back on.

The man rolled his eyes, though there was the slightest hint of endearing in them as he took the blunt you had half finished smoking earlier and lit it himself, leaning back in the seat a bit. 

As he did so, he glanced over at you - hair messy and strands stuck to your brow from the sweat, your clothes were in a disarray, and marks he had left on your skin covered your neck and collarbones. It gave him a weird feeling to look upon you, like a sort of strange pride. Whether it was because he had given you that messy look, or because he was just proud of you in general, he didn’t know.

“No way, I’m tired too,” Atsumu scoffed and redirected his gaze out of the open window for a second before looking at you. His eyes softened slightly at the pout on your lips before he sighed, “Fine, I’ll do it. Help carry the drinks.”

He opened the door and carefully carried you out in a princess carry before kicking the door shut and beginning to walk. His steps were a little uneven and shaky as he was just slightly intoxicated.

As he carried you, you looked up at him, eyes tracing his sharp jawline and his blond hair. There were bags under his eyes and the scent of sex and everything you two were consuming today mixed into the cologne he wore with his natural scent. Somehow, it was still attractive.

“You’re hot.” The words left you in a whisper without you even realising it. Atsumu looked down and nearly stopped walking for a moment before laughing as he continued to walk.

“You’ve got the weirdest fuckin’ timing. But yeah, I know that.” he replied before setting you down a little later.

“Where are we?” you raised a brow at him, still holding onto his arm.

“Just take a look, would ya?”

Tearing away your gaze from his handsome self to look at the sight before you, you gasped softly.

You stood near the edge of a cliff, just beyond the fence-like barrier, there were paddy fields and the occasional farmhouse providing a small source of light. It was a pretty normal sight, but upon closer inspection, you could see the reflection of the night’s stars in the water of the fields. The twinkling stars shone in pitch blackness, undeterred by the city lights you were used to. The moon looked brighter than ever too. A cool wind blew past your face, refreshing it after the stuffy feeling of having sex in Atsumu’s backseat, carrying the faint scent of spring on it.

“You know, I think being here would feel so much better if I didn’t have your cum in me.”

“Shut the fuck up and enjoy it. You asked for it anyways.”

Atsumu flicked your forehead lightly before pulling you closer to the edge and sitting down on a log, looking out over the fields and up at the sparkling sky.

“Happy 6 months.”

“Tsumu, I don’t think anyone celebrates a fuckbuddy anniversary.”

“Eh, whatever. Fuck and drink buddy.”

“...well uh, happy anniversary!”

“Happy anniversary, doll.”

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, slightly dazed expressions on your faces before breaking out into giggles.

“Oh! Right!” you passed him a bottle of beer and opened your own with a spare coin in your pocket. “Cheers!” you clinked your bottle against his before drinking about a third of it.

“Cheers.” Atsumu replied and took his own large gulp of the drink.

You leaned against him the moment he moved the bottle away from his lips. His muscular arm, strengthened by years of playing volleyball made him rather comfortable to lean against. You hummed an unfamiliar tune before sighing in content.

Atsumu looked down at you resting against him. He could get used to this. He realised that lately he had been opting to stay the night after the fun you had together. Whether the time contained pillowtalk or it was just falling asleep in silence, he enjoyed it. Atsumu enjoyed being around you.

You enjoyed it too. People often claimed the blond was an ass but you knew better. There were nights when after you two had sex, the worries of the day or week would catch up to you and you’d end up crying to him. It was awkward at first but he slowly got used to it and eventually would comfort you with food he ordered or a few words of encouragement. (“Yeah it’s that bitch’s fault, go fuck her up.” was probably the most commonly said thing). As the nights passed, you found yourself wanting to spend more and more time with him.

“Hey… the sun’s coming up.” Atsumu said, making you finally look up from your silence. You hadn’t even realised you had fallen asleep on him for a bit. 

As you narrowed your eyes and looked over the fields and fields of crops, you noticed he was right. The first rays of sunlight could be seen peeking over the landscape, bringing light to the sky.

“Woah… it’s pretty.” you whispered in awe.

Atsumu looked over and studied your features for a few seconds. The way your eyes sparkled and was lit by the early morning sunshine, the way your hair bounced just a little as the wind blew, and the way your feet tapped quietly on the dirt in tired excitement. He didn’t want to admit it but he realised he might’ve been falling for you for a while now.

“Thanks for bringing me here. I love it.” you grinned up at him. At the man who you hadn’t realised you had fallen for weeks ago.

“Yeah,” he replied, and in a voice just barely audible to the two of you, he whispered, “and I love you.”

This moment seemed like a perfect time to properly ask you to be his, but he figured he would just let you two enjoy it in silence for a little longer.

[foryoumyheroes]

hi! I dont know if you are still taking request, or even active but if you are, could you do a headcanon with todoroki having a s/o that loves drawing him ? they could be already on a relationship or not ur choice

Hi anon! If you're reading this I previously replied that I am sort of taking requests, but I was inactive until recent. In order to make that up to you I'll give you both a scenario fic and headcanons since I was struck by inspiration to write this! Hope you enjoy!! I kinda spiraled off topic asdfgh 

Pls accept my word-vomit like I’m a cat giving you a dead rat. 

The Campos 

Todoroki x Artist!Reader

"How is it possible for anyone to be that handsome." 

Even you were surprised by the words tumbling out of your own head, stopping your pencil in its place and as you froze like a still frame. It wasn’t long before you felt heat creep up your body, painting your cheeks all the way to your ears with a red like the sunset. 

It was always like this. 

There was nothing artistic from the way his image always flowed from your pencil in hurried lines and messy scribbles, and there was no beauty from how you always hunched over into the collar of your shirts whenever you felt the burning of your emotions. You wrote Todoroki [Name] and [Surname] Shouto in the margins of your notebook as if you had reverted back to primary school, doodled among little tiny hearts and sketches of his side profile. 

Maybe your parents were right. You should’ve just gone to art school like they had said and fallen down the path of them and so many of your other relatives. But at fourteen you were just so caught up with wanting to be different. You had to be. You had to get off the beaten path and flow out of the frame you were confined in. You said that in this family you would never be the best artist, but you could become the best Hero that the [Surname]s had ever had. You were a Hero-in-training, but you knew that at heart you would always be an artist. 

And now at sixteen you were at a loss. You were at a loss because whenever you looked over at the last window seat in 1-A, your talents always fell short. There was nothing you could draw that could bridge the distance you felt, to calm the foreign feelings in your body. Your drawing skills had not diminished while you practiced war, but you were backtracking now. Perhaps you really should’ve gone to art school instead. 

Maybe then you would find a way to express how you truly felt. 

Nothing you wrote or drew now could match up to the endless admiration you had for one Todoroki Shouto. 

Everyone else was mere background noise to Todoroki when he set his gaze on you. 

Although Bakugou and his group of friends were in the common room shouting and making a ruckus and Todoroki’s own friends were giggling at the back of him, tossing frosting, floating bowls of batter to Iida’s ire. 

His eyes always sought you out. 

It was difficult to explain why. Even now, with you in a baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans rolled at the ankles, Todoroki wondered why he was paying you so much attention. The world around you was spinning and you were at an impasse. You were only writing in your notebook, probably jotting down notes at a speed he couldn’t comprehend. Your head was always buried in that Campos notebook.  

With a loud screech, Kirishima bumped his hip on the dining table, jostling both you and him from your standstill, pencils rolling across the wood. Your eyes immediately flashed up and met with his wide heterochromic ones. A deer in the headlights. The two of you turned away as quickly as it came, ignorant to the pink that bloomed on both of your cheeks while a spark flickered across his left cheek. 

“Whatcha drawing there, [Name]?” Kirishima asked boisterously, pulling out the chair beside you while you heated up like a furnace, waving your arms around wildly and sputtered like a train engine. You couldn’t snatch it away fast enough and his dark eyes fell on your doodle-ridden pages with a soft, “Oh.” His lips formed a small O shape. His eyes carefully looked up at the hot-and-cold boy before dropping back down to your page. You carefully averted your eyes, fixing [e/c] orbs on some faraway wall until he carefully pulled your notebook toward him and quickly scribbling something down, pushing the pages back toward you. 

When you snuck a peek at the drawing of a blond gremlin with spiky hair like a porcupine, and a crude drawing of a K and B underneath an umbrella, a loud laugh tumbled out of your mouth. 

It was as if Todoroki didn’t exist anymore as you gave Kirishima your full attention, laughing to whatever jokes he made or witty one-liners. 

He wasn’t a poet. He didn’t know the words. 

Others could talk about how selfish he was for having his mother’s pretty face and his powerful Quirk; boys and girls have tried before, handing him letters in his locker and bouquets of flowers, but that never mattered to him. Only you have stayed on his mind. His attractive features and his Quirk only had stock to it if it helped him win over your affections. 

In crowded places and busy gatherings, when he stood in solidarity, when his hands hung by his sides and his eyes were left with nothing to see, he wondered what primitive part of him was always acting out. How his hands wanted to cut off all connection with the logic in his brain and reach out to grab yours. How he always silently watched you from faraway, physically unable to tear your visage away from his eyes. His body always acted without reason — the heavy palpitations against his rib cage, the rose against his skin, the sweat on his palms, the dilation of his pupils. 

He wondered how he was in Heaven just by being near you. 

He wondered what it would take to get you to look at him for once. 

But your eyes would just be deep within the confines of your Campos notebook, impervious to his lingering thoughts of you.

Surprisingly it was Todoroki who offered to clean up after his friends while they went into the showers to wash away the flour and frosting that coated their hair and skin. The night had already been long by the time they turned in, heavy and drowsy after making several tins of uneven, ugly cupcakes. He had to do something with all of this energy, he thought, scrubbing away at stubborn stripes of sugar that painted the counter tops.

The lights were off and only the streaks of moonlight filtered through the large windows of the dorm room. You had left with Bakugou’s group several hours earlier, accepting Kirishima’s invitation to go to the nearest konbini for ice cream with an open hand. 

Now it was just him. 

Tossing the rag in the wash bin, he was about to make his way back to his room when his eyes fell upon the dining table and he found your notebook. 

How could he not know it was yours. He had seen it within your hands more times than he could count, more obsessively than Midoriya’s Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He wondered if that was why he was so interested in you. Your dedication to your studies were admirable. Nearly twenty-four-seven. 

Carefully, he crept closer to it, as if it was a bomb going to detonate before he picked it up. 

The pages curled and crinkled in his hands, and he debated opening it. 

It was just a school notebook, right? You probably only had notes and worksheets hidden inside of it. 

Maybe he could get an answer to your time. He could discover the subjects that you were struggling at, or even find one that you were better than him at. You were a couple ranks below him in the class grades. When he returned your Campos to you he could ask to study with you. 

He flipped it open and his heart stopped at the sight. 

Shit, shit, shit! you thought, running down the stairs, taking two at a time. It was late enough that the elevators were locked for curfew and you cursed Aizawa-sensei for putting your room at the very top of the building. After you had gotten back from the konbini with your friends, cheeks hurting from how hard you were laughing at Kaminari’s antics and Sero’s sarcasm, you had completely forgotten that you left your notebook on the kitchen table. You only remembered when you dug through your bag only to scramble around when nothing came up. If anyone like Hagakure or god forbid — Mineta, found it, you would never live it down. You were lucky enough that Kirishima was a good sport about it. He knew how to keep his mouth shut, but everyone else? 

You wondered if it was too late to transfer schools. 

Your feet landed harshly on the carpeted ground after the final step, head snapping back and forth for your notebook, but froze at what you saw. 

Even in the dim light of the moon and past the hand clamped over his face, you could see the heavy pink on his cheeks. 

Your heart dropped. 

“I — “ His hand fell to his side and you were given a full view of the strong flush on his face. “That’s my notebook... Todoroki-kun.” 

When the Campos dropped to the floor and he dashed across the common room, hand around your waist and his lips on yours, you found that you didn’t need flowery words or an arsenal of artistic techniques to express how you felt. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck, locking him deeper in the embrace, fingers cording through his soft red and white hair. 

The instinct to be closer to him would be all you need to overcome the division between a desire for him and the stillness of your body. 

Headcanons: 

After you two get together and it becomes more obvious that you’re drawing him, he’ll coax you out of doing it in secret.

He’ll ask to take pictures of the drawings on the margins of your notebook or if you’re drawing it on scrap paper, he’ll ask to have it after you’re done with it. 

He keeps it in a box uwu and he has to upgrade every year because it keeps on getting full. 

Even if you’re not drawing him, you ask him to pose for you so you can take references for your other drawings. He’s just so proportionate!! 

It makes him so happy every time he sees it!! He nearly catches on fire every time. 

The fact that you’re expressing your affections in this special way makes him so soft?? 

He once tried to draw you in return but he has like zero to none art experience. Even had no experience in his childhood because all he wanted to draw was All Might and Endeavor wouldn’t allow that. 

Instead you offer to teach him the basics on how to draw and you two continue bonding that way!! You sit on his lap because that’s the best spot to be close enough to guide him and show him how to draw while you drone on and on about shadows, anatomy, perspective, and he’s just nodding along without a single word going to his brain because he’s just staring at you the entire time. 

[“Shouto-chan, did you get that?” 

“Yeah...boxes?”]

If you draw him complete pictures he keeps it on his wall, and eventually his dorm room looks like he’s about to string red yarn around it because it’s blanketed with paper all over like he’s uncovering a murder conspiracy. 

A/N:  The picture that I used for the page breaks is Anselm Feuerbach’s “Peonies” and I actually saw it in real life at the Neue Pinakothek!! It’s one of my favorites and I even got a mousepad of it bc I’m a dork asdfg 

The Kirishima and [Name] scene is inspired by this comic by marbitss and I was inspired to write a lot of prose after reading Nicole Krauss’ The History of Love!

[spicycreativity]

Howl- Ch. 3

Chapter: 3/10

Add'l Notes: Fic is posted in full on my AO3, WizardGlick

Chapter content warnings: Depictions of alcohol use

“Nothing,” Remus pronounced. His breath ghosted over Virgil’s ear and he shuddered, pulling away so he could look Remus in the face. Remus was still in his work clothes and he smelled, not wholly unpleasantly, of sweat and dirty water.

“Nothing?” Virgil ran his pointer fingers behind both ears, just barely resisting the urge to dig in with his nails and see for himself, dammit.

“I think you’d know if aliens had stuck a tracking chip in your head,” Remus said, his own fingers dancing across the countertop toward the basket of enamel pins by the register.

Virgil ran his fingertips across his temples, still feeling for something, some marking or scar. “But if it wasn’t aliens...”

“Far be it from me to be the voice of reason,” Remus said, “but are we sure you weren’t just sleepwalking? Or high on peyote?"

Virgil continued to track Remus' fingers as he stuck his hand in the basket. "If you steal anything, it comes out of my paycheck." Not strictly true, but it would make Remus pause.

"I wasn't gonna steal!" Remus exclaimed, holding up his hands. "But now I kinda want to."

"Please don't." Virgil sighed and put his face in his hands. He'd noticed a strange metallic taste in his mouth after waking up properly, and even the desperate mouthfuls of Monster he'd been forcing down his throat couldn't seem to touch it. It hadn't touched his exhaustion much, either. Whatever Virgil had been up to last night had not been a restful activity.

"Oh, c'mon, don't freak out." Remus' hand sat heavy on Virgil's shoulder, warming him through the thin fabric of his Baphomet t-shirt. "You were probably just sleepwalking. It happens all the time. Roman used to sleepwalk all over the place when we were kids. One time we even found him asleep in the yard. Naked, just like you."

Virgil peeked over his fingertips. "Really?" Remus was not the type to lie to make someone feel better, but this story seemed a little far-fetched.

"I swear," Remus said, eyes wide with childish solemnity.

The only customer in the store stepped up to pay, and Remus stepped aside to let Virgil deal with them. He made faces behind their back, contorted himself into absurdly sexual poses and stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips like Elvis in his prime. Virgil pursed his lips to keep from laughing. It had been a hard decision to ask Remus for help with this, but Virgil was glad he had chosen him.

Patton was a big softie and nearly as prone to panic as Virgil was. If he didn't escalate Virgil's paranoia about aliens then he would probably end up pressuring Virgil to make a police report. A useless endeavor, since no crime had actually occurred as far as Virgil knew. Roman and Janus would just make fun of him for being a tin foil hat-wearing loony. And Logan… Well. He might judge. He might not. But Virgil didn't want to look stupid in front of him. Not to mention that Logan would ask questions, force Virgil to face something he wasn't ready to face.

So Remus it was.

"Thank you," Virgil said when the customer had left and Remus had stopped gyrating his hips. "I know I'm being dumb and it was probably nothing."

"Janus isn't here right now," Remus said, pouring out the basket of enamel pins. They scattered and clicked across the countertop. "But if he was, I think he'd say--" Remus shifted his weight and crossed his arms, "'Now what did we say about negative self talk?'"

Virgil chose not to remind Remus that Bienvenue was only a few blocks away and he could easily go get Janus if he wanted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it wasn't aliens."

"But if it was peyote, you do have to share," Remus said, his attention already back on the pins. He poked through them with one dirty fingertip.

Virgil watched for a moment, then joined in, turning the pins to face Remus so he could get a good look at them. Remus seemed particularly fixated on one shaped like a death's head moth. "That one's six dollars."

Remus braced his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands under his chin, lashes aflutter. "You know how you could repay me for checking your skull for alien trackers?"

Virgil nearly reached for his wallet before he realized what Remus was actually getting at. He sighed, biting back his smile all the while, and made a show of turning to inspect the rotating sticker display. "Uh-oh," he said in an exaggerated monotone. "I'd better make sure all the stickers are properly organized. Gee, I sure hope no one shoplifts while I'm doing that."

There was a brief moment of silence. It was broken when Remus, presumably done pocketing the pin, said, "So bowling night?"

"Huh?" said Virgil, trying to find the dirty joke. Maybe something about balls?

Remus pulled his phone out of the pocket of his work pants and shook it at Virgil. "Pastor Patton's little group bonding venture?"

"Don't call him that," Virgil muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, of the messages he'd been ignoring all morning, one was a new group chat. He read through the messages. "How did Patton get your number?"

"Roman gave it to him."

"How'd he get Janus' number?"

Remus grinned. "I gave it to him. No way am I suffering through some corny adult bonding shit without backup."

"Am I not backup?" Virgil asked, unsure whether he should be offended.

"You can't be backup," Remus said dismissively. "You're the bridge. You forced me 'n' Roman to reunite, you made us all hang out. You're the bridge. You won't be as mean as I need you to be."

"I'm mean!" Virgil said. "I'm so mean!"

"Say something bitchy about Patton right now. Quickly!" Remus began to snap his fingers.

"Um," said Virgil. "Uh. Sometimes-- Well, sometimes he can be kinda… Smother-y?"

"Oh, please." Remus rolled his eyes. "That was almost healthy communication."

"Fine." Virgil crossed his arms over his chest.

Remus let him pretend to be upset for roughly three seconds. "But you are coming, right? Or are you gonna spend the night playing with Data's joystick?"

Virgil's cheeks went hot. "Of course I'm com--" He paused and reconsidered his choice of words. "Of course I'll be there. And Logan will, too."

"Wonder if I can start a betting pool," Remus said thoughtfully.

The bells on the door tinkled and Virgil leaned over to see past Remus. "Hi, welcome in," he said in his best customer service voice, which wasn't very good. "Let me know if I can help you find anything."

"Just browsing."

"Alright."

"Well," said Remus, affixing the moth pin to his hi-vis vest. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," said Virgil. "Please be nice to Patton."

Remus winked and started to back out. "Sorry! Hazing is mandatory."

He slipped out the door, leaving Virgil to marinate in his anxiety.

--

Although he was exhausted, Virgil went for a short walk after work. He wandered by Bienvenue and stared at the fancy suits in the window and wondered how Janus always had the audacity to dress like he was attending a funeral at a high-end night club. His feet took him forward and he smiled a little. If there was one thing Janus had in abundance, it was audacity.

He stopped again by the reflecting pool at the Plaza and read the plaque. It had very little information and devoted barely half a sentence to the supposed curse. A shiver ran down Virgil's spine. He took a deep breath and carefully did not panic. As Logan would say, he shouldn't jump to conclusions. He needed more data.

Virgil didn't want more data. He would happily chalk his misadventure up to sleepwalking and banish it forcefully to his subconscious, if only it would never, ever happen again. He shivered again despite the balmy weather and muffled a yawn behind his hand. Time to go home and get whatever sleep he could before the inevitable disaster of bowling night.

He managed to get home without hitting any potholes. Whatever stormy weather had threatened Vaillant earlier in the week seemed to have passed, and he was treated to a spectacular view of a great blue heron flying low over the road. He even managed a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up and get ready.

He chose his outfit with care, scrutinizing it through Logan's eyes. What would Logan like? What did Logan like? Virgil had no idea about his preference in men or how he slotted into it.  Was it his height? His body shape? His eyes? What should he play up to make Logan like him? So Logan wouldn't regret choosing to be with him?

He dithered over this until he made himself late, and chose an outfit that he felt good in: long sleeves, long pants, the reassuring weight of his hoodie on his shoulders.

He kept it zipped up to his neck even after he entered the warmth and light of Vaillant's singular bowling alley, Gator Lanes. His friends were already seated. Waiting. For him.

Despite the wash of guilt, Virgil slowed and surveyed the scene. Patton and Logan sat on one of the low, pleather couches with a pair of bowling shoes between them. That left Roman, Remus, and Janus wedged on the other couch. They all looked like they were getting along, which was good. Roman and Remus were speed-eating French fries while the others talked.

Virgil approached from the back, gesturing for Patton and Logan to be quiet. He didn't miss the way Logan's eyes lit up; it sent a pleasant little rush of adrenaline all through his veins. When he was close enough, he leaned over and stole the pineapple off the rim of Janus' hurricane glass. It was dyed red from grenadine and tasted vaguely of rum.

"It's fine," said Janus, casually flipping Virgil the bird. "I wasn't saving that or anything."

"Guess you'll have to get another one," Remus said.

They started bickering about how drunk was too drunk for bowling night, so Virgil came around to Patton and Logan's side of the table. He kissed Logan hello while Patton explained about the shoes: "They were out of your size, so I got a size down instead of up, because I know you wear those really thin socks and I didn't want you to slip."

"Thanks, Pat," Virgil said. His hand found Logan's, somehow, and he smiled. "I wouldn't have put that much thought into it."

"That's why you have me!"

"Can we start now?" Roman asked, wiggling in place.

Patton stood up to fiddle with the control, and Virgil forced himself to nuzzle Logan's jawline with his nose. He wanted to do it, but the idea of being witnessed while he did so made his skin crawl.

Logan turned his head so they were nose-to-nose and smiled before pulling away. "Do you want me to order you a drink? We were going to, but we weren't sure what you'd want."

Roman threw a straw wrapper at them. "We're just about to start!"

"You're up second, too," Patton said cheerfully, flopping back down on the couch. "I put us in alphabetical order."

"I'll go, then," Virgil said. He squeezed Logan's hand and let go of it, stood.

"Don't forget to put your bowling shoes on," Janus said, eying Virgil's ratty leather ankle boots. Janus himself had somehow done the impossible and matched the colors of his suit to the dull red and blue of Gator Lanes' bowling shoes, making his whole outfit look deliberately tacky.

"When I get back."

"I'll go with you!" Roman got to his feet. "I already know I'm gonna lose. What's one more drink?"

"That's the spirit!" Remus said.

"Ha," said Patton, "I get it."

They turned to go, Roman bumping Virgil with his hip to prompt him forward. "So you and Logan, huh?" he said once they were out of earshot. "How's that going?"

"Fine," Virgil said, feeling the blush crawl onto his face. It was a short walk to the bar, but it suddenly seemed like miles and miles.

"You sure keep things close to your chest, don't you? Didn't say a word to me." Roman crossed his arms and looked sideways at him.

"I didn't think I had a chance!" Virgil exclaimed. "Wait. Did he say something to you?"

Roman winked at him, shushed him, and bellied up to the bar so he could order. Virgil hung back, one hand on his wallet, but Roman waved a hand. "Janus has a tab going," he said, turning back to Virgil.

"Does Janus know he has a tab going?" Virgil asked.

"Uh, yeah, it's not like I stole his card."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Virgil said, thinking of Remus and the moth pin.

"Ugh, you worry too much."

"This shouldn't be news to you, Roman, I have 'Worry Too Much' Disorder." Virgil flicked at his zipper pull. "Wait, so did Logan say anything to you?"

Roman smiled, even laughed a little. "Uh, yeah, he practically asked me and Patton for permission to ask you out. He made us promise not to tell you. Honestly, it was kinda cute how nervous he was."

"Nervous?" Virgil repeated. It was obvious now, but it hadn't occurred to him that Logan had lost just as much sleep over Virgil as Virgil had over him.

A harried-looking bartender popped up behind Roman, slid their drinks over, and vanished again practically before Virgil could force out a 'thank you.' Roman passed him his vodka Red Bull. "Let's go."

"Alright." Virgil sighed. It was probably better not to try to wring the details out of Roman, especially since he'd said that Logan had told him not to tell.

They reached their lane and he  scooted in next to Logan, snuggling up a lot closer than was necessary, especially given that Patton was currently up to bowl. "Welcome back," Logan said.

Virgil set his drink on the table and began to change his shoes over. "Having fun yet?" he asked Janus. He was still a little resentful that Remus and Janus didn't think he could be mean anymore. Just because he didn't want to shit-talk Patton behind his back. Sure, Remus had been the one to say it, but Virgil had no doubt the sentiment originated with Janus.

"Sure, I guess there's a sort of primal thrill in hurling a 14-pound ball at a target," Janus said primly.

"10 pounds," Logan said.

Virgil bit down on his lip to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry?" Janus tilted his head.

Logan gestured at the bright yellow ball sitting in the ball return. "10 pounds, not 14." Patton's ball came back, followed shortly thereafter by Patton. "16 pounds," Logan said.

"Pat's strong," Virgil said, elbowing Patton as he sat down. Janus bit down on an ice cube. "By the way," said Virgil, feeling a spark of pure evil manifest inside himself. "Have you guys made cutting boards yet?" To Janus, he said, "It's kind of a tradition."

"I'd heard," Janus said, shooting him a covert dirty look.

Virgil smiled at him and turned to Patton. "Janus would rather die than say so, but I can tell he's excited."

"Oh, good!" Patton said. To Janus, he said "I was actually a little worried you wouldn't want to do it."

Virgil's killing strike was delayed slightly by Remus' reappearance and Roman's subsequent disappearance, and he knew he had to act quickly or Janus would wiggle out of it when Virgil was taking his turn. Remus finally sat and stopped crowing about his spare, which no one had witnessed. Virgil pounced. "Bienvenue is closed on Sundays, isn't it?" he said to Janus, as though the shop hadn't kept the same hours for years. "Maybe you guys could do it then."

"The weather should be clear, too," Logan chimed in. Virgil looked at him, trying to gauge if he had picked up on the game, but his face gave nothing away.

"Works for me!" Patton said. "I'm putting the finishing touches on a coffee table for somebody down south, but I can make time on Sunday."

"Great," said Janus with a plastic smile Virgil knew he usually reserved for difficult customers. The daggers in his eyes promised a thorough bitching-out later, but Virgil didn't even care. So he wasn't mean anymore, hm?

"All you," said Roman, tapping Virgil on the shoulder.

Virgil nodded and took a long swallow of his vodka Red Bull. It was stupid, but walking up to bowl always felt like walking out on stage. He knew full well none of his friends were paying attention and even if they were, their friendly teasing was nothing to worry about. They knew when to stop. But still, his heart quivered as he approached the lane. By sheer luck, he managed not to get a gutter ball, then turned and hovered awkwardly as he waited for his ball to come back.

Logan caught his eye and winked at him, not even pausing in his explanation of the physics of bowling. Virgil smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed that much lighter, that much more bearable. He really had to stop worrying so much.

[xominniexo]

                          INTRODUCING MELODY MOUSE

full name: melody matilda mouse

age: physically 26 ( immortal )

powers: sorcery with a focus on divination

siblings: ozzy mouse

face claim: bruna marquezine

pinterest for the vibe: here

— crestfallen on the landing, champagne problems.

tw: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks

it all started with a mouse... and it’s up for debate if melody is that mouse. see, she’s always felt a little like the one to the side. the one following the footsteps of her parents. the one left in the wake of an explosive younger brother, trying not to be bitter as she watches him leave yet again. it’s fine, okay? she’s fine with it.

melody had her first panic attack when she was fourteen. it came while waiting in the wings to perform a piano piece, and, if anyone had been privy to her mind since starting puberty, it wouldn’t have seemed to come out of nowhere.

melody had always been positive, kind, and intelligent. she excelled at schoolwork, she had an ear for music and took to the piano like she was made for it (though her singing voice is decidedly mediocre), and did her best to keep her brother out of trouble. as she got older, and hit puberty, things started to take a turn. beneath the presentation of a perfect little angel were headaches, irritability, trouble sleeping, and worrying. about school, about her music, about her brother, about making her parents proud.

her parents immediately did the best they could to help her with her anxiety, though that first panic attack certainly wasn’t her last. piano is now one of her best coping mechanisms - it helps the rest of the world melt away when she just needs a break.

melody’s always had a degree of awareness about her family legacy, but she didn’t know the full extent of it until ozzy turned eighteen and it was revealed that they’d both had magic their whole lives hit. it was like a bomb dropped on the happy little family, or maybe a fuse being lit that would burn until ozzy graduated. melody honestly still doesn’t know how she feels about being lied to - her powers were never as everpresent as her brother’s, and she’d been so busy compartmentalising to be there for him and learn how to actually use this magic that she’d never quite taken a step back and thought about her own feelings. needless to say, her therapist thinks that should change and she’s working on it, okay.

melody has to dig deeper for her magic. for whatever reason it isn’t always at her fingertips the way it is for her father or even her brother. nonetheless, once she was able to tap into it she immediately started working to master it. it was a tool, and not one that she wanted to mishandle. at this point, melody isn’t sure if she had a knack for divination already, or if she was just so fascinated by it that she focused on it more. either way, magic that gave her knowledge was what she leaned towards, despite it’s unreliability.

generally, melody had mixed feelings about the academy. it was good to have a place to actually learn, and she could see it’s potential. but, well. ultimately, it was more for ozzy than it was for her. hell, the whole city was for him, really. even if he never seemed to see that the same way she did. nonetheless, she wanted to see the dream grow. she’d always been the responsible one, and she was going to keep being the responsible one. even (especially) when ozzy finally graduated and that long-burning fuse ran out. when ozzy left the first time, sans immortality, she threw herself into her music and helping build the academy. it was fine. really. if he didn’t want anything to do with her or their family then fine. she’s kept out of the years long war between her father and ozzy, but it’s slowly grown a spiky mess or bitterness and resentment deep within her.

in the intervening years, before maleficent, melody started studying teaching. her anxiety which, yeah, took a fucking downswing when her little brother ditched town while totally mortal with no indication he was ever coming back, had it’s bad days and it’s good days, but medication and therapy helped. there was a stretch of bad that’d had her habitually trying to look into the future - whether a few minutes or years, for herself or vague acquaintances - to an unhealthy degree. every choice had to be considered from every angle, had to have it’s outcome checked and double-checked, until she pulled herself out of that rut. it was coming out of the end of that phase that she took up teaching, and started avoiding some of the more oracular elements of divination.

then maleficent happened. and her brother came back. melody was too relieved and delighted to resent him for leaving. she’d hoped he’d stick around, that the catastrophe would bring everyone in her family together again. yeah, right.

ozzy was gone again, ditching instead of trying to put in the fucking work to repair things with their dad. whatever. it was fucking fine.

it’s been several years since she’s seen her brother. in that time, she’s become a music teacher for younger kids, an involved member of the community, a proficient wizard, and started drafting a novel on her family legacy. she’s had a good few years, and she’s hoping to have a lot more. she’s feeling good. hopefully ozzy swinging back into town doesn’t change that!

— wanted connections.

***ex almost-fiance: listen i’ve had champagne problems stuck in my head the full week i’ve been trying to get her bio out, i just know she walked out on a proposal and your character could be that proposer!! join me for peak angst!!***

bad influence: in, like, a party/dumb decisions way or in, like, a corruption arc kinda way... 👀👀👀 can be platonic or romantic idk feel out the vibe

student: does your character want to learn how to play piano? you’ve come to the right place! she mostly teaches younger kids but u know exceptions can be made

hook up: melody does impulsive shit once in a blue moon and congrats, u made it happen! can be a one off or ongoing 👀

under her wing: idk just someone she’s decided she must look after for one reason or another. honorary little sibling vibes

confidante and/or best friend: what it says on the tin. basically the person she goes to when she needs a hug

???: if u have ideas hit me up on discord thank u for coming to my mouse talk

[oxtoxtoxto]

Kara Danvers: Ornithologist

Ao3 Mirror

(tags): Supercorp, Ornithology, Fluff, One-Shot

It all started about a year after she had landed on earth.

By that time, Kara had, at least in her own opinion, grown moderately used to the effects of a yellow sun. People, social norms, fitting in—those would take more time to come to her, to chip away at what humanity saw as being socially stilted, but had been in her memories just how people acted. Still, she’d figured out the whole strength thing, had stopped randomly floating at inopportune times, was steadily working her way through weekly nightmares, and she felt, for the first time since she’d watched Krypton blast apart into chunks behind her, like she was making progress, that she had finally found some sort of equilibrium.

Which, of course, meant that the world had to drop something else into her lap.

Now, let it be said, Kara knew that wild animals were not, in fact, harmless, even despite her immense durability. They might not be able to harm her, but the chaos they could cause - and more to the point, the damage they could cause to other people - was significant. She knew that, okay? She’d had it drilled into her head repeatedly by Eliza and Alex - who she was finally getting along with after all this time - and, just. She wasn’t careless.

The duck was an accident.

She’d been out on one of her nature walks at the time, the handful of hours she graced herself with whenever the world got too... restrictive. Memories of the pod still weighed on her head like a leaded blanket and every once and a while even the house felt a little too enclosed. She’d spend her time tracing the trails walked by others, glancing up at the sky, wearing whatever she wanted, moving at her own pace, to her own whims.

There was a body of water somewhere between a pond and a lake further into the woods surrounding her home. It wasn’t quite big enough to call a lake, nor was it small and shallow enough to justify calling a pond. It was just barely deep enough that the average-sized adult - using Eliza as a reference point, anyway - would have trouble keeping their head above water at the deepest, and it stretched out across the uneven forest floor for some distance, tucked away into the side of a few rolling hills.

It was a favourite of hers, mostly because it was a hotspot for birds. She hadn’t expected to find any when she’d arrived, admittedly, it was winter and most of the birds had fled further south outside of the ones who stayed year-round. The occasional chickadee, a handful of crows—not exactly social demographics, for sure, but it hadn’t stopped her from watching and enjoying the sight of fluffy, black-feathered birds hop and gutturally scream at one another over a discarded tin can.

Except, what she found wasn’t crows or wintering birds or even the random occurrence of other wildlife, like squirrels.

She found a duck. A duck not twenty paces from the body of water, one wing bent at an unspeakable angle, letting out little noises of pain. It kept trying to waddle its way towards the body of water, but would falter, one of its flippers always giving out on it. It’d likely hit something mid-flight, she even could recognize some damage to a nearby tree, where pine needles had been stripped away from something hitting it hard, and the ground nearest to the tree was scuffed, thrown up around the edges, frostbitten lichen scraped away due to an impact.

For a moment, she couldn’t help but just kinda... watch it. There was no real justification for it then, to let something suffer and attempt to meander its way over to the body of water, to stand there, stock-still and unsure, as something else tried to overcome its pain. Do nothing to help it.

Then, she took a step forward.

The duck’s head snapped around to her, a croaky warning quack bubbling in the back of its beak, edged by more pain. Its feathers fluffed, its body tightened, it looked all the world both terrified and intensely hostile. It did not want her there, it did not want her help, if anything it actively could not imagine taking it.

So what compelled her to take another step, and then another, ignoring the increasingly intense noises of warning from the waterfowl, was frankly completely and utterly beyond her.

Before she really knew what she was doing, Kara had closed the distance between herself and the duck and had crouched down, despite all warnings, despite not knowing how to actually tend to a duck. Even though it was wild, even though it clearly really hated her and despite every last warning Eliza had made her repeat like a mantra, she couldn’t help herself.

The duck was wounded. That, simply, would not do.

    “Kara,” Eliza said the word with unhidden exhaustion.

Jeremiah, hand pressed over his mouth and shoulders shuddering with restrained mirth, stood beside her.

Alex was, of course, up in her room, completely unaware.

“She’s hurt,” Kara explained, the duck tucked against her mud-soaked shirt. She’d figured out that the duck had been a girl sometime during the period where it had repeatedly tried to maul her, to little effect. It had taken two hours of persistent cajoling, but at this point the duck was mostly sedate.

That or resigned, she couldn’t really tell.

“Yes, honey,” Eliza tried again, this time her voice going for soothing. “But sometimes animals get hurt, you can’t just take every hurt animal in.”

Kara stared blankly ahead. “Of course I can’t.” That was obvious, thank-you-very-much. She knew she couldn’t house every last animal, okay? “But this one?”

“It does seem pretty docile,” Jeremiah said, considering.

Eliza snapped her head around to him, a look of betrayal on her features. “It’s wild, Jer!” She hissed right back, as though Kara wasn’t here and didn’t have enhanced hearing abilities and could literally hear what they were saying.

“We tamed wild wolves,” Jeremiah tried, again.

Eliza threw her arms up. “As newborns! That’s a fully grown duck!”

The duck in question, name still to be decided, quacked tiredly.

Jeremiah’s smile broadened, almost teasingly. “And yet, it seems to be handling Kara well.”

Eliza stared daggers at her husband for a while, bringing to mind vivid memories of the time she’d caught her own mom reaming her father for eating the last off-world cookies they’d brought back on one of their trips. After a moment, she glanced back at the duck, then to Jeremiah, before huffing. “Fine, but if that so much as tries to bite one of us, I am going to cook it.”

And that was, in the end, how Kara ended up spending the remainder of winter break putting a duck house together with Jeremiah.

    Sally - the duck, name decided on by Alex in a moment of frustration when Kara hadn’t been able to figure one out, and it had just kinda stuck - outlived Jeremiah by a year.

Both deaths had been crushing, and so had the things that followed it. Alex pulled away again, Eliza was overcome by grief, the house grew a bit too quiet, a bit impersonal over the year after Jeremiah’s death.

She took to walking the trail over and over again after Sally died, not entirely sure what to do with herself. Sally hadn’t ever quite acclimated to being house-bound, but at the same time, in hindsight, she hadn’t had much of a choice, either. Her wing had been broken in all the wrong ways, it would never be fully operable again, and eventually Kara was pretty sure she had come to see the small little region of the backyard they’d fenced off for her as her own.

Kara got better, in her own opinion, at social things—at blending in, for lack of a better term. She didn’t make any new friends, and going into high school hadn’t brought any new changes with it either. Midvale was a small town, affluent, yes, but very, very small. Everyone who went to middle school went to high school together, and her reputation carried, however unfortunate that might be.

She made a friend in Kenny Li.

Lost a friend, just like Jeremiah, just like Sally.

It was not long after that, tracing that same old trail, that an impulse overcame her. An impulse she hadn’t had in a while, but an impulse nevertheless. She knew better than to feed into it, knew better than to consider it, but it’d always been there, floating in the back of her head like an intrusive thought. She had just been in a better place to overcome it.

Her steps took her out of the forest, down the long, winding sidewalk into the actual city, up the road, to the right, and up to one of the farming retailers. She walked in, mud-caked shoes and all, ignored the odd looks she was getting from the cashier, and very, very firmly asked for a baby chicken.

When asked why, she told them it was for school.

They believed her.

    Clucks was a considerably easier venture to handle. Eliza hadn’t made a comment on it, and Alex was too busy getting into fights with Vicki Donahue to pay any attention to her. She was pretty sure Eliza didn’t approve, especially not after she spent a lot of time and a solid 90% of her “savings” - however much that can mean anything when you’re getting an allowance - to retrofit the waterlogged duck house into a proper henhouse, but the occasional bag of feed would randomly pop up, and Eliza’s silence was, in a way, itself its own form of permission.

Watching Clucks grow, however cliche, felt like it... unlocked something in her, for lack of a better term. The process of biological growth, the sleepy blinking eyes, the little calls she made—it made her curious. She hadn’t been curious in years, not since Krypton, not since she was slated to join the Science Guild and all that entailed. Earth was, for better or for worse, strictly speaking completely and utterly behind her for the most part. Her advantage would probably wean off if she followed scientific education into college, to be fair, you can only teach a child so much in so many hours, but she didn’t really have to try at school - hadn’t had to try at anything, really, outside of social situations and look where that had gotten her - in a very long time.

She started watching birds, more than she normally did. She’d spend the hours she wasn’t beholden to caring for Clucks and her fussy eating habits staring at them in the trees, keeping a record of them in her notebook, sketching them. Doing everything in her power to look them up, find out what made one bird different from the other, even if they looked very similar. Christmas that year netted her a high-quality camera and a small collection of encyclopedias specifically for avians.

To be completely honest, that was about the point where her fascination with birds turned into a passion.

    “What do you want to do?” Mrs. Hubbard, the guidance counsellor, finally asked.

Kara stared back, completely and utterly not sure how to respond to that. It was her last year at high school, she could do more or less anything she wanted outside of maybe history and English literature. Those were places where her interstellar knowledge could do her precisely nothing to aid and she was almost always too busy looking after Clucks, having aged to the point where it was starting to become necessary, or looking for new birds, photographing them, adding them to a wall.

Instead of vocalizing any of that, Kara shrugged.

Mrs. Hubbard frowned, a thoughtful expression slipping over her features shortly after. She spun in her computer chair, reaching down to one of the drawers on her desk and, with a few short tugs and some rummaging, pulled out the local newspaper.

On it was one of her photos. One that Alex had sent in after she had refused to do so. It was of a red-crested cardinal, very rare in this part of the continent, almost unheard of, really. They didn’t like people, but she had spent the majority of an entire day lying in wait until she could get just the right perfect shot. It had come out really good, in her opinion.

“You took this, right?” Mrs. Hubbard asked, flicking through the scant few pages that made up the school’s newspaper. “You said you had an interest in birds, what about that?”

Kara shrugged. Again.

“Just, please consider it?” Mrs. Hubbard tried, and Kara forced a reassuring smile to her face to give the woman some room to breathe. She was fifty-going-on-sixty, with a head of curly gray hair and a perpetual wrinkly cast to her face. Kara was sometimes worried she’d fall over at any time, frail-looking enough to be daunted by a weak breeze.

“Alright.”

    She got into National City University almost accidentally, really. She’d sent out applications more or less to wherever they would fit, throwing Mrs. Hubbard’s idea at the wall to see if it would stick.

Turns out, National City University, alongside a relatively well-known arts and marketing department, and its regularly-lauded bio-engineering course, had courses for ornithology. Well, more specifically, she was accepted for a Bachelor’s in Wildlife Biology and intended, as far as Eliza had helped her plan, to get a Master’s - and possibly, eventually, a Ph.D. - with an emphasis on ornithology.

She got in on a scholarship too, which was nice. Her own scientific background was starting to come up a bit empty, though, too many things that humans hadn’t quite figured out yet combined with gaps that would’ve been filled, had she continued her career on Krypton. Still, it said something that she could think about Krypton nowadays without that pervasive ache, that emptiness that drove her to walk in circles on a muddy path until her head would stop being so noisy.

Clucks died the summer leading into her university admission. She took apart the henhouse and buried her with it out back, capped by a small stone that only she, Eliza, and to some extent Alex knew the importance of. It wasn’t much, but it felt... nice, final, like putting everything to rest after all this time.

Alex had been, admittedly, less than impressed she was following her to National City, but then Alex wasn’t impressed with her a whole lot lately. She spent a lot of time out partying, she’d heard the yelling matches - albeit from a distance - that Eliza and Alex had spiralled into as of late. So she just took her opinion into account, acknowledged it, but did precisely nothing more with it, primarily because she wasn’t well-equipped to deal with Eliza’s constant pressuring of Alex or Alex’s habitual need to prove herself.

At least this time she didn’t buy a bird.

    That was a lie. She bought another bird.

Well, not bought. Found might be more operative, really. A pigeon’s egg that had been haphazardly left on her dorm’s windowsill like a gift from an outside influence. The dorm had, with the exclusion of medical aid animals, a wholesale ban on pets. Understandable, if anything it made a whole lot of sense not to trust university students with pets like cats or dogs because not long after you’d probably find out you’ve made an entirely new ecosystem just in the dorm buildings alone.

That, however, did not stop her from keeping it. Or incubating it. Or getting special permission from one of her teachers who really liked her to play the entire thing off as a long-term project towards her study of how city-dwelling has modified the behaviours and physiology of native bird species in the region.

It technically wasn’t a pet if it was a project, and all that.

Thank god she didn’t have a roommate. She wasn’t great at lying but she was pretty sure it would not hold up in the face of someone who was around her for any length of time.

Cook, the male pigeon she was now rearing, was docile, fat and the laziest bird she had ever met. It was fascinating, but also very very nice. Cook was really the first bird which let her touch them, brush her fingers over their crest, observe their talons and all the other fun things. She hadn’t known how to properly handle Sally back when she first got her, and by the time she had, Sally was old and holding her would only ever end up with her thrashing, so it wasn’t safe. Clucks was better about it, but had been a notoriously flighty hen with snappish tendencies that had made physical contact largely impossible.

Cook was the equivalent of a male ginger cat: spoiled rotten, but too lazy to be particularly rotten.

Birds served to be something of a perpetually rotating door of new and interesting things. Kryptonian birds, aside from being extinct for hundreds of years due to core mining destabilizing their cliff habitats, were only abstractly similar. They were both feathered, both laid eggs, but Kryptonian birds, for starters, did not have gizzards. She wasn’t sure why - though, her guess was that it was because after a certain point there weren’t really any rocks the birds could eat that weren’t also poisonous - but they just didn’t, and finding out that birds ate rocks to grind food up had been absolutely one of the highlights of her youth.

The worn pages of her encyclopedia could attest to that.

Just, gizzards. How could something like that even evolve? She wanted to find out, wanted to know, and she did everything in her power to find it out. She read papers, did research, she had avenues open to explore all those questions that high school science teachers couldn’t answer, or things which only had theories and weren’t taught as a direct consequence. It was like being a fish in a pond for her.

She didn’t even realize she was reaching the end of her Bachelor’s until someone brought the fact up to her.

    “I want you to try for this,” Professor Vance said, sliding the slip of paper over to her.

Curious, Kara plucked it by one edge and brought it up. At the very top, ‘CATCO WORLDWIDE MEDIA’ was written in a huge, distinct font, and below that was a rather blunt four paragraphs on the new nature magazine they were working on. They were looking for prospective photographers and scientists to apply for a chance to be hired or at least interned for a promised three editions at the minimum, with more if the magazine’s profit margins were high enough.

Kara glanced back up.

Professor Vance smiled. “You’re nearing the point where you have to start looking for experience work, right? I mean, keeping your grades as they are will keep you in a scholarship if you want to just move straight to your Master’s, but I’d really prefer it if you considered this. I’m friends with one of the people who pushed for this, she promised she’d give your work a look if you sent it in after I showed her a few of the pictures you left me with of Cook.”

This was... definitely an option, for sure. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do it, but the fact that she could get in on the ground for something like this, that it was there, that there was no real harm in trying - after all, despite the rule about not being involved with newspapers or the news in general, this didn’t technically qualify, did it? - for better or for worse. She wanted to try, wanted to do something, wanted to explore more and maybe have the way she saw the world be something other people could empathize with, or even understand.

She thought back to the newspaper for a moment, to how it had put her here in the first place. After waffling so much on what she wanted to do, on where she wanted to go, to find out that the option of taking up this line of study had been such a smart option, one that had been so fulfilling, well.

It felt like a sign.

She just hoped to Rao it wasn’t an omen.

    She had learned, maybe in her second year at NCU, that most of her wardrobe was not going to work with the outdoor labs and observation studies that had become part of her life. She’d, with great reluctance, shucked her fondly-loved pastels for a wardrobe mostly consisting of heavy-duty and androgynous clothing. A lot of durable pants, a lot of t-shirts, few skirts, more shorts than anyone had any right to own, boots. So many boots.

Which, as it would happen, is not the type of wardrobe you should be wearing in the event that you’re meeting one of the richest women on the planet. Cat Grant, media mogul, she had clawed her way up from her beginning as an aide to Perry White and had carved out a cranny for herself in the international media circus that defined human culture.

She might be five-two on a good day, but she was as intimidating as any person Kara had met.

Cat’s eyes, roving over her dress pants, dress shoes - that she had borrowed from Alex after panicking, they didn’t quite fit right—too small for her feet, left her toes cramped like nobody’s business - white dress shirt and tie, felt at the same time an attempt to observe her and to criticize her choice in clothing.

Not that it had been a choice, considering this was about all she had left in terms of “formal wear”. She hadn’t needed to be formal in years! She was a researcher for birds, do you know where birds generally like to be? Not in places you can navigate in a pencil skirt, is where.

“Very...” Cat Grant, the woman who had taken time out of her day to assess whether or not she deserved to belong to the fledgling nature magazine, a woman who didn’t have to do that since she was pretty sure she could hand the job off to anyone else, hesitated. She hesitated, tilted her head, glanced askance towards one of the monitors behind her, one lit up by a rainbow. Something about another country in Europe legalizing gay marriage. “Butch.”

Kara felt her face heat up, opened her mouth to correct, but couldn’t quite manage it. At all. Words, in general, were beyond her right now because Kara was pretty sure Cat Grant thought she was a butch outdoorswoman and it was very surreal. Oh god, please help. She should’ve listened to Eliza’s rules, she should’ve just kept doing labs and got her Master’s instead of trying for any of this—

“Close your mouth, for Pete's sake,” Cat—no, er, Miss Grant? That felt better—Miss Grant said in that sort of tone parents used on unruly children.

Kara’s mouth clicked shut. Thankfully she could at least follow orders.

“So this is mostly a formality, Lindsey has reassured me repeatedly that you're a good student of hers and that she has all the trust in the world for you,” Miss Grant drawled, leaning back onto one of her too-thin heels, eyes narrowing. “Can’t say I personally see it yet, but then Lindsey hasn’t lied to me yet.”

Professor Vance hadn’t said her friend was the woman herself.

She really should’ve! That was pertinent information—

“Are you going to say anything?” Miss Grant interrupted.

Kara reached up on impulse, fiddled with the frame of her glasses, pushing them back up the sweat-slicked bridge of her nose. “I like birds,” she said, stupidly. On impulse. Because she was a moron and all of her social interaction over the last four years of study had been with other people who were equally socially inept.

Miss Grant blinked, looking for a half-second completely bewildered, before her face settled back into neutral semi-disdain. “Yes,” she confirmed easily. “Your pictures said as much.”

“I would like the job?” Kara tried, the words coming out in a rush.

“Then you’ll have it,” Miss Grant said, raising one hand up to prevent any words coming out of her mouth, not that she was about to speak or anything. “But, sincerely, work on... talking. I expect more from my employees, and interns are no exception.”

    The first couple of months working as an intern and balancing her continued studies was, in all honesty, pretty rough. It took a while to find an equilibrium between the two, where she wasn’t constantly behind on one thing, and it had taken some pretty severe restructuring to her schedule.

Most of her coworkers for the new potential nature magazine were older, people who had worked in the field for more years than she had been alive for, including those she’d spent in the Phantom Zone. Most of them were men, with a few women thrown in for good measure, and a handful of them weren’t very fond of her. She was the youngest by no small margin, and she hadn’t made much of an impact yet, hadn’t yet proven herself to them.

But things got better. Alex at some point finished up her own schooling and went on to do secretive lab things that she thought Kara didn’t know about. Eliza got back to working in the xenobiology field, on-and-off, and the time spent over Thanksgivings and Christmases were defined by a near-constant chatter of scientific intrigue. It was nice, not quite a change, but more of things settling in.

She got her own apartment, even. It had been grandfathered to her by Alex, to be fair, and was absurdly cheap for the region and it required she balance a part-time job with an internship and a university degree but, well. She managed.

“You raised a pigeon, right?”

Kara blinked up at her coworker, one Richard Blackler. He was an older gentleman, in his mid-to-late sixties, with a head of absurdly thick graying hair that showed no sign of receding. “Yes?” She answered, or at least tried. Social things were still hard, she again hadn’t spent much of any time in university bothering to socialize and her restrictive friend pool hadn’t grown beyond Alex and a few others in a long, long time.

“They still around?” Richard continued.

Kara shook her head. “No, died five months ago.” Normally, pigeons lived to about six years—Cook had made it to four, in large part due to her spoiling him on food and his general distaste towards anything athletic. He’d just passed away in his sleep one day, and unlike Clucks, due to how she’d pitched Cook, she didn’t get to bury him.

Or, well, she didn’t in theory. Cook went ‘mysteriously missing’ after he had been acquired by the university and while people probably had their suspicions, there was no way to prove that she did it, considering she had flown to the roof of the building and broken in that way. She’d buried him back home after another flight, right beside Clucks.

“Either way,” Richard began, smiling guilelessly. “How would you feel about a short trip to Metropolis?”

...Not great? Clark was uh, upset wasn’t the operative word. Clark didn’t really get upset with her. Maybe ‘disappointed’ might be better? He just, they hadn’t talked in a while. Like, three years a while, because she had been busy and she was bad at opening up lines of communication and—

“You’ll get your name on the article. It’s about how city birds have adapted.” Richard’s smile grew significantly less guileless, and suddenly Kara had the ominous sensation that she had walked into a trap. “After all, that’s what you were doing an extra study on, right?”

...Ah. Shoot.

She’d forgotten about that.

    Clark met her at the airport with Lois. He’d taken one long look at her, her outfit - jeans, big mountain-hiking boots, a huge backpack, and a massive sweater - and pulled her into a tight hug, saying how he’d missed her.

She’d returned the hug, empowered by her own guilt and the fact that Clark was among some of the few people she could hug at full strength without risking crushing them to a pulp.

“So, you said a few weeks, but do you know how long you’ll be staying with us exactly?” Clark asked sometime into their drive towards his place, one hand steady on the wheel as he stared, looking utterly bored, at the red light in front of him.

“Twenty days, if that’s okay?” Kara managed to get out, folding her hands together. “I can find another place to stay if—”

“Nope,” Lois interrupted brightly, and Kara couldn’t help the tug of her own lips pulling up into a smile, even as she buried her chin in the fluff of her oversized sweater. “You’re staying with us, and if Clark has an issue with that...”

“Which I don’t,” Clark said airily, pulling the car back into motion as the light turned to green. Someone behind them leaned on the horn, and Kara winced.

“Which he doesn’t,” Lois echoed, not missing a beat. “But if he did, he’d be sleeping on the couch. Outside. In the rain. Because I’m not letting my boyfriend’s little cousin get exploited by the absolute shit housing market in our fine city.”

“Wait,” Kara interrupted. Because, well. Wait. “Boyfriend?”

Lois and Clark turned to look at her. She shrunk back.

Lois, without looking up, aimed a swat at Clark’s head. He yelped, the car lurched a little, but didn’t stray too far. “Eyes on the road, Smallville, and seriously you didn’t tell her?!”

“I thought she knew! I wasn’t exactly subtle!”

“Yeah, well, she clearly doesn’t!”

“We’ve been dating for nearly ten years now! I thought it was obvious!”

    One of the benefits nobody tells you about when you’re gifted yellow sun derived superpowers is that you don’t get sore, or achy, or anything. Kara had vivid memories of having regular morning cramps as a kid in her legs during her growth period, the sort of charlie horse-esque bundles of agony.

Normally this wouldn’t really be a very real benefit. Sure, she might never wake up with an ache in her back because she slept wrong, but in any other line of work that would just be nice. Not something that informed her day-to-day.

But when she spent hours on her stomach, perched into awful positions that she knew should be doing some pretty awful things to her musculature, all to take a photo of a pair of pigeons and a crow in some half-lit, dingy alleyway smelling like a laundromat, well. It became important. Very important. She got a lot of very real envy for being able to get up after a photoshoot like this sort of thing without even wincing, still limber despite the horrible things she had been doing to her posture.

Admittedly she wasn’t totally fond of the fact that she was laying in an alleyway with her camera out and it was really not hygienic under any definition of the word, and everything kinda smelled, and there was a cigarette butt a few feet away from her that didn’t really smell like nicotine, no sir, but she’d take the upsides to the downsides. She kinda had to, considering the series of events that led her to laying down in some alleyway on an alien planet.

Finally, after hours of patience, after everything, she was lining up her shot. The camera Eliza gave her all of those years ago still felt sturdy in her hands, perfectly suited to fit between her palms. She could see the pigeons finally settle in, looking relaxed even despite how close the crow was, who themselves seemed to be content as well. It would be a perfect image to run with for her article and—

“Oh my god, are you okay?!”

The birds flew away.

Kara felt something inside of her die.

Turning her head slowly, achingly, to find the source of the voice which had just ruined hours of sitting around on the awful shitty ground of Metropolis all to get a single photo she kinda didn’t need but that sunk cost fallacy had rendered impossibly important, Kara finally set her sights on the person in question.

It was a woman, about her height, with long, black hair, bright green eyes, and lips almost cherry red. Her skin was that sort of pale that seemed almost washed out, though there was a hint of colour to her cheeks from the cold outside. She had high cheekbones that led down into a defined jaw and chin. She spoke with a slight Irish lilt, very disconnected, a long-faded accent, a bit like the one she had.

She was, in a word, very, very pretty.

Stupidly pretty.

Like, end of the world pretty.

“The, birds,” Kara managed to get out between her stupid lips and stupid brain that was currently trying to process the pretty woman staring down at her. The one wearing the sort of business casual with long pants and heels, all the things she had tried to be with her wardrobe during that one meeting with Miss Grant that had brought her here in the first place.

The woman’s eyes flicked up, caught sight of the birds flapping wildly to new spots. Her eyes glanced down, caught sight of her camera, clutched tightly, and her face widened into shock, then guilt. “Oh, shite”—the last word was murmured beneath her breath quickly, like she was afraid of someone overhearing it—“I am so sorry, were you about to take a photo?”

Kara nodded, because words were frankly beyond her and—actually, thinking about it, why did this always happen around women? She could look a man down and say exactly what she thought but when it came to women she just, y’know, couldn’t.

Actually, on second thought, now really wasn’t the time.

“Jeez, I just—that’s bad. I am so sorry, I don’t think they’re coming back down.”

Kara spared the birds a glance, all puffed up and looking mightily offended by being interrupted in their naps. They probably weren’t, yeah.

“Here, uh,” the woman reached into one pocket, rummaging around until she could procure a card-sized piece of paper. Reaching up to one ear, she plucked the pen out from behind it, scribbling something down before, finally, crouching down and handing it off to her. “I know this is really suspect, but, if you need any help within reason, call this number? I have to go and yell at someone.”

Kara glanced down.

The words ‘Lena Luthor’ and a long string of digits which constituted a phone number stared back up at her.

Her mind ground to a shuddering halt.

    Jack was laughing hysterically by the time she stormed back into the classroom.

“You absolute dick!” Lena yelled, pointing at him.

It only made him laugh harder. The ass, the childish, fucking absurd ass.

“You could’ve told me!” Lena continued, unabated, because Jesus Christ was that fucking embarrassing.

She’d walked up to the window not five minutes ago because Jack kept getting distracted by something out there, and she’d looked down to find a woman on her face, legs splayed out, tense as a wire. Assuming the worst, and not having Jack to rectify that assumption, she’d run down to check to make sure she wasn’t out cold or worse yet dead and—and—

“Stop laughing!” She wailed.

Her best friend doubled over, laugh sputtering off into a wild series of unsteady breaths. He wiped his eyes, a snort escaping him in a woosh every few seconds. “You didn’t ask,” he teased, glancing up at her from between his fingers. “She had to have been down there for like three hours. All for some pigeons.”

Lena had been trained to be socially adroit, had been all but groomed to be publicly adored, and despite Lex’s continued attempts to ram the family name into the dirt, she had managed that much.

Or at least, she had thought she did.

“God damn it, Jack,” Lena managed to get out with a sigh.

Jack started laughing again, the prick.

    Clark and Lois sat around the table with her. The card was in the center of the table, innocuous blue ink standing out against the white-and-black of what, upon closer inspection, was a small advertisement for a gay bar.

She, purposefully, did not look at Clark.

“You’ve been here for five days,” Lois said, not sounding terribly surprised.

“Under a week,” Clark agreed with a hum, voice gravelly. “New record?”

Lois, out of the corner of her eye, paused, head tilting thoughtfully. “Think so?”

“It’s the Kryptonian curse,” Clark said sagely, or at least, sagely enough that Kara had to remind herself he was being sarcastic and there was, hopefully, not a literal curse attuned to Kryptonians out there. She had been given bedtime stories about the cults who had worshiped Yuda Kal and what they would do to kids who stayed up too late. “But, more seriously, you probably shouldn’t do anything with this.”

“I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do with this,” Kara muttered, reaching for it.

Lois swatted her hand. “A pretty girl gave you her number on the back of a girl bar advertisement, I think that warrants something.”

“Lois,” Clark said, voice tinged with a warning. “She is a Luthor.”

“And Zod’s a Kryptonian, but that hasn’t stopped me from—”

Kara leapt to her feet with enough force to send the chair away, snatching the card up and pressing both hands to her ears. “Nope!” She yelled, waddling back and towards the guest bedroom, ignoring Lois’ unbidden cackles. “Not thinking about that! I’m going to go study!”

    Idle curiosities, if not previously made clear, were her banes. The card had sat like a hunk of particularly volatile uranium in her bag throughout the remainder of her stay in Metropolis, even after. Her thoughts had constantly been dragged back towards it, even when she’d been awkwardly congratulated for her article and the interest people had taken in the magazine. Even when she was raised from intern to part-time - she had an actual salary now, she didn’t have to work at Noonan’s, and however much she would miss the free food, she wouldn’t ever miss working retail - her thoughts would, inevitably, be dragged back to it.

The curiosity never really left her. Not even after Lex Luthor was arrested after killing over 30 people in an attempt to murder her cousin. Half the reason she knew anything about it was because she’d become fixated on seeing how Lena responded, seeing her take the reigns, seeing her push for a rebranding.

She didn’t forget about her when she decided to finish her Master’s early, stopped taking her time with the sciences and pushed herself far, far ahead of where people had assumed her to be, finishing everything out before the year ended.

Even when her sister’s plane fell, even when she plucked it out of the sky. Even when she revealed herself to Winn, a coworker who regularly came over to the nature magazine’s office for reasons completely beyond her. Even after Astra, even after Myriad, even after Non and Fort Rozz and flying up into space and nearly dying.

She never forgot. It was the intrusive thought to end all intrusive thoughts, the card still tucked away in her sock drawer, waiting for the chance to be used.

    It had been a while since she needed to dress up. This time, however, she had the disposable income to afford some things and didn’t have to steal her sister’s shoes, so that was a plus. It wasn’t that much different from the ensemble she’d worn those years ago when she’d met Miss Grant, though at least this time around it was refined. She wore the same dark dress pants, and with her own set of dress shoes, alongside a button-up white dress shirt, with sleeves rolled to her elbows.

Lena Luthor’s secretary stared back at her, utterly unimpressed. “Name and appointment?” She drawled.

Kara tried not to fidget. “Uhm, er—Kara Danvers, with CatCo Nature? Here to interview Miss Luthor about her new push for environmentally friendly tech?” More specifically her recent developments in helping regrow the redwood forests, in the canopies of which were actual ecosystems that needed protection.

The secretary stared narrowly at her, suspicious and unwelcoming but, thankfully, Kara had grown up enough not to fold beneath it.

Letting out a sigh, the woman motioned towards the door. “She’s waiting for you.”

    Lena Luthor had been having a trying few months. Lex had gone insane, she’d had to help sentence her brother to multiple life sentences,  she’d had to take over L-Corp, break off her friendship with Jack - as, despite joking about it, both of them weren’t comfortable with being any more than each other’s beards - by leaving Metropolis. She’d had to deal with Clark motherfucking Kent breathing down her neck not a few days ago. She’d had to deal with the fact that Supergirl likely didn’t trust her because her brother had, repeatedly, tried to murder her cousin.

She’d had to deal with a lot. Too much, really. It was actually starting to get to her. Lena knew she could be suited to be a CEO—that much wasn’t up for debate. She could do it, she just... didn’t want to. She liked being a lab worker, liked exploring the field of study she so enjoyed, liked a lot of things about her old life.

But she had to step up to the plate, considering the other alternative was her mother and if she thought Lex handled the company’s money poorly, Lilian would be a nightmare.

Running her hand over her eyes, Lena glanced back down at the report on her desk. Another bit of cash Lex had illegally squirrelled away for anti-Kryptonian weapons development. It was starting to become a pattern, to the point where she was worried she’d start finding the damn ledgers under rugs or on high shelves, considering how much he’d done to actually hide them.

Then again, nobody had even tried to look into Lex’s personal files, so it’s not a surprise he considered his own security airtight.

The door to her office opened with a steady swish, and she flicked her eyes up, catching sight just as the person opening it walked in.

Bird girl stared back at her.

...It was probably bad that it was the only name she knew her by, but ‘bird girl’ had become something of a myth among her and her close friends. Jack had made it into a joke, and it’d kinda proliferated, especially when they found out she had given her her own name and number on the back of a Frozen Strobe advertisement—that being one of the more popular gay bars in the area. Nothing about it to her had been all that funny, it had, in fact, been extremely embarrassing and she had just finally started to forget it happened.

Apparently, life was not so easy. “Ah,” she said, voice coming out awkwardly.

Bird girl smiled back, just as awkwardly, reaching up to fiddle with her glasses. “Hi,” she said, voice soft. “I’m, uh, Kara Danvers, with CatCo Nature. I’m here to talk about the redwood project?”

Oh. She could work with that.

    One hour turned into two, then three, and one meeting into two, then three, then four. Lena really wasn’t sure how things had progressed to this point, but if you got past the shy outer shell of Kara Danvers you could find for yourself a bumbling, broadly-smiling sweetheart with an absurd love for birds.

It was... weird. Lena didn’t really have friends, hadn’t for most of her life. Her family name before had been a daunting point of prestige, the Luthors were wealthy in the way that few people were. They came from old money, and lots of it, with a fair amount of prestige chasing their heels. People hadn’t wanted to be friends with her, and the ones who had just wanted what she could give them through her reputation.

She’d managed to find some friends, though. Jack, Sam, Jess, even to a certain extent Andrea of all people—and now, in National City, she had none of them. She and Jack didn’t talk much, Sam was too busy cleaning up after Lex, Jess was around, yes, but also too busy, the restructuring wasn’t a simple task, after all.

After Lex, her reputation had been ruined for different reasons. Xenophobia, hatred, things she didn’t associate with herself—people kept their distance. The gay clubs she’d gone to that one time out of a need to just get away had rejected her at the door, even despite being a long-term visitor. Nobody wanted her, she tainted everything she touched.

Except for Kara, apparently.

Kara, who was sweet and kind. Kara, who didn’t care about her last name. Kara, who stayed with her until three in the morning once, all to have an interview that was more them chatting than anything else. Kara whose Instagram was surprisingly popular and utterly devoted to birds. Kara, who loved ducks and had duck-print pyjamas she’d shown off during one of the movie nights she’d invited her over to, which she had endured even when being stared at by distrusting eyes by Kara's adoptive sister.

Kara, who was Supergirl.

Because, really, she wasn’t stupid.

But that was okay, because even if Kara was Supergirl, she could keep that secret, or at least the approximation of one. They all had their secrets, all had their wants and needs and... well, Kara was her want. And her need.

Which was not something that could stand.

So she’d done as all Luthors did and planned. Showing absurd amounts of affection to people she felt things towards before had always backfired. Lionel had been distant and unresponsive to shows of childish affection, Lillian had been worse, she’d gone so far as to complain to her about wasting money when she’d tried once, during the holiday, to give her flowers. Lex had just never been comfortable with strong displays of affection, hadn’t known how to respond to it, and so, like Lionel, he never had.

In the end, she sent Kara an office full of flowers in the hopes that maybe it’d be juuust enough to scare her off.

    Lois’ words had been something of a seedling for a long, long time. A number written on the back of a girl bar ad, the sort of plot point you’d read out of a trashy romance novel you got for free or very cheap on Kindle.

She and Lena had never really talked about sexuality. Kara’s had always been up in the air, and considering she’d been socially ostracized and not particularly invested in any of it, she hadn’t really dated in the first place. It was hard to explain to Alex and Eliza that Krypton didn’t really have a concrete concept of gendered attraction. The matrix did everything for you, you didn’t need to think about it. Pregnancy wasn’t an issue either, considering everyone was birthed through the matrix.

Girl, boy, neither, or something else—she hadn’t been raised to care, because, in the end, the matrix would choose the person she would have the best chance of loving, and any obligations to continue the progeny of the House of El would be handled by technology. She didn’t need to think about pregnancies, sex had been an almost primal concept on her planet; people did it, sure, but people didn’t talk about it because that wasn’t the primary focus of any relationship.

How could you explain that to someone who grew up being sorted into boxes? Whose concept of sexuality was tied to hard yes-or-no questions? Sure people who didn’t answer yes or no existed too—bisexual, pansexual, asexual, but these labels, they weren’t... relevant, to her. She didn’t even know what to call herself, how could she explain it to anyone else?

But, like. She wasn’t ignorant, or stupid. Or even that unaware. She knew that she had feelings for other people, however stifled, she knew what feeling attraction was like.

So, yes, she might’ve been blindsided, stumbling into her office only to find it literally almost overflowing with red roses. Yes, she might’ve been a little overwhelmed too. Sure. She might’ve felt awkward for the period of time she didn’t know who it was from, or why.

But she felt... hopeful, when she found out it was Lena.

This was all new to her. She’d put aside sexuality, put aside romance in large part because, well, it didn’t... work. For her. She’d never been given the option to explore it as a teenager and attempts to romance her, well, she’d shut down. Hard. She was over a decade too late to begin exploring that part of herself, she had resigned herself to just existing, and she’d been fine with it, you know?

Rolling the stem of a rose between her fingers, Kara wasn’t so sure if that was the case anymore.

    There were three things in life Lena had come to expect would never happen, even if it was, technically, possible.

The first was that Lex would become her brother again. Not that she had been disowned, but rather in the sense that he’d drop his xenophobic obsession and just, be her brother again. Be the person who consoled her, who took care of her when her adoptive parents couldn’t be bothered.

The next was one day clearing the Luthor name, if the first wasn’t possible. Some day, down the line, the Luthor name would no longer be associated with a mass-murderer and xenophobic technology, but she knew better than to fully expect that. Knew that it would take generations before Lex’s impact retreated from public knowledge.

The last, and final thing, was Kara asking her out on a date. Bit of a light subject to include in those other two things, she knew that, but Kara had become something of her only support line in the city at this point and you could, frankly, excuse her for putting a lot of emphasis on that.

She’d expected Kara to retreat, to pull away, to respond to her show of affection as most people had in her life.

Instead, Kara, shy, demure Kara, stood with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, wearing the very same outfit she’d met her for the second time in. Her face was beet-red, eyes wobbly and embarrassed, unable to focus on any one thing at any one time. If anything, the severity of awkwardness Kara worked under was always surprising. Supergirl was always confident, always sure, and Kara was the dead opposite. Kara was never sure-footed, always cautious, always ready to apologize.

But here she was, of her own volition, with a bouquet clutched in one hand, wearing what Lena was pretty sure was the fanciest thing she owned. After having just rushed in, ignoring Jess’ protests, and asked her on a date.

Jess, shell shocked and stunned, stood in the entryway to her office.

Kara, awkward and sheepish, stood not too far from the couch, fidgeting in place.

Lena, breathing in, then out, kept the smile from her face, if only to not look like a complete doofus. “You could’ve texted me.” Or called, really.

Kara’s flush grew brighter. “I wanted to ask in person.”

That was Kara for you. An oxymoron in every sense of the word, kind and caring and so, so very passionate. A girl who was very set in her ways, a girl Lena didn’t deserve, but couldn’t quite bring herself to resist.

“How does Friday at twelve sound?”

[shinygoku]

Thunderbirds (2004)

A review by me, CutCat! This is 8-ish pages long!

Spoiler for the end of the film warning: Alan is in International Rescue. What a twist!

Totally Turbulent

Soooo, Tbirds ‘04 is one of those Infamous Adaptations, at least among those who enjoyed Thunderbirds (’65) and of more recent times, Thunderbirds are Go (’15). It’s one of those Bad Live Action Adaptations to a near sacred property, making it dubious contemporaries with Dragon Ball [Evolution], Avatar [The Last Airbender] and suchlike.

But wait, is it really That Bad?? Why is it as divisive as it is? What caused the film to be the way it is, and quite unpopular at that?

First I’m gonna make a long story very short by saying that a Live Action Thunderbirds movie was on and off production for many years, and that the script we ended up with is apparently better than another one that was pitched... but there are reports of cooler scripts further back that never made it, for various reasons. It’s almost a story of it’s own right but I’m only going by 2nd hand information at best, so I’d rather just link them at the end for Additional Reading if y’all felt so inclined.

With that out of the way, we have the Takes from the Andersons to look at. Sylvia had a very favourable reception to it:

"I felt that I'd been on a wonderful Thunderbirds adventure. You, the fans, will I'm sure, appreciate the sensitive adaptation and I'm personally thrilled that the production team have paid us the great compliment of bringing to life our original concept for the big screen. If we had made it ourselves (and we have had over 30 years to do it!) we could not have improved on this new version. It is a great tribute to the original creative team who inspired the movie all those years ago. It was a personal thrill for me to see my characters come to life on the big screen."

Whereas Gerry had a considerably blunter response at the opposite end of the scale:

"the biggest load of crap I have ever seen in my entire life."

As for me, a mere fan of predominantly the TAG series with limited but fond memories of the 90’s TOS reruns, I’d been inclined to ignore it and write it off as a DBE or TLA lost cause. But the combined effect of me deciding to check out unpopular media for myself, namely Dragon Ball GT and the live action Super Mario Bros. movie, and thoroughly enjoying both; and the other effect of TAG finishing but my fixation reawakening with the need to consume More, I dived deeper into the fan base than I had dared to before, in which I found more reasons to watch it and make up my own mind fairly.

Find out what I thought, and a review of the movie itself, below the Cut! ✂

Stormy Story

Ok, enough teasing, I see good things in the movie but not enough for it to be a secret masterpiece, not by a long shot.

1/3 Stars from Me. That’s Poor. (Compare with 2/3 being Good, and 3/3 being Excellent)

My main beef is unfortunately kinda the crux of the whole story, so while there were aspects I really liked, it had permanently set the bar low, and other issues were not helping matters. I’ll go into the problems after I sum up the plot.

[sitcom harp music]

14 Year Old Alan Tracy is stuck in a stuffy school with only his nerd friend to confide in. Something’s eating him up, and it’s jealousy over how his family are International Rescue, the secret rescue workers whole pilot the Thunderbirds, impossibly cool craft with capabilities vastly exceeding standard technology. Even when he’s allowed out of school and back to the Island, his envy and barely repressed resentment over not being a member himself causes him to go off and sulk and to try taking Thunderbird 1, the hypersonic jet plane, for a joyride.

His father and the leader of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy chews Alan out for almost compromising the need for the organisation to remain secret, lest their advanced technology falling into the wrong hands. Alas, said wrong hands are already working against IR: The Hood, a diabolical, cold blooded criminal with psychic powers and a grudge against Jeff. After successfully tracking the location of Tracy Island, he launches a missile towards Thunderbird 5, the Space Station where IR monitor potential disasters to prevent as much damage as possible, manned by John Tracy.

With TB5 crippled and John injured, Jeff and his other three older sons all scramble to the disaster zone via Thunderbird 3, the Rocket Ship. But with Tracy Island largely unmanned, The Hood moves in and aims to use the Thunderbirds to rob bank vaults while simultaneously smearing International Rescue’s good name. As the only Tracy brother left on Earth, it’s up to Alan and his 2 friends, Fermat and Tin-Tin, to foil the Hood and save his family, proving himself worthy in the process. He is also assisted by IR’s London Agent, Lady Penelope, and her driver/butler/lockpicker, Parker.

...

Ok, so that’s a summary you may read on the back of a DVD box, maybe it’s a bit long but whatever. Do you see what’s wrong with the story? The massive rift in the formula that should be within a template set by the hugely popular TV Series?

Critical Crux

For me, the main issue with the movie is that the Tracy family are thrown under a bus, or perhaps it’s more like being locked in a closet, in order for Alan to rise up and be The Hero. A show that was about each of them having different roles and personalities to the others, and the movie sees the best way to adapt the premise is to reduce 3 of them to cardboard cutouts who aren’t allowed to do or say anything meaningful, with the exception to this getting the dubious honour of getting a missile and exploding space station to the face.

I can’t clearly express how much this pisses me off! It’s downright insulting and baffling as well. They had pre established characters right there for the taking but go NO! Let’s make OCs to fill this newly created void instead and make the main Message of the film Friendship Teamwork.

Why does every child-skewed media hafta have the Friendship message? It’s a good one, sure, but nothing said in this film about it was fresh or original. Y’know what I see far, far less? Not just in Kid Flavoured Media, but all sorts? The importance of Brotherly Bonds between actual brothers!! I don’t subscribe to the massively misunderstood message version of ‘Blood is thicker than water’, but a story with the siblings actually pushed and stressed and coming out stronger at the end would have ruled!!

[For what it’s worth, the actual saying is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”, i.e. the bonds you choose to forge are more important than happening to be born to certain people. This correct message is still compatible with literal siblings though!]

The other, somewhat lesser Large Issue with the movie is simply that we don’t see much in the way of Rescues with the titular Thunderbirds. We only get the tail end of the Oil Rig in Act 1, and then the ‘Birds are used predominantly to get to London and save 1 Monorail Car with TB4.

Watsonian Woes & Doylist Dilemma

When looking at Media, there’s 2 main angles to consider; Doylist and Watsonian. Doylist is the “real life / meta” angle, the structure of the story or interests of the author being in the plot, that kinda thing. Watsonian is the reason given within the story.

All stories have Watsonian and Doylist reasonings, the trick is to blend them in and not use a weedy Watsonian reason for something stupid happening.

Why bring this up? Because it’s still part of the Huge Problem I have with the film; the Doylist reason for all of IR being incapacitated so easily is so Alan can shine without fighting for focus in a large group. I don’t like it, but let’s go along with it for now.

Believe it or not, but I can accept that a Movie format isn’t going to be the same as an ongoing series. There’s way less time and you gotta hit certain beats. Ideally you also condense the essence of the show into the film while being more than just a long episode. They didn’t hit this note in my opinion...

But other than ‘It has to happen for he story to work’, there’s no damn reason for all the Non-Alan Tracys to be cooped up in the crippled TB5! They put all their eggs into one basket when a considerably more sensible choice woulda been to have a small crew, and the others remain on base. Because even without factoring in a worst case scenario where another missile hits them while in space, killing them all, which totally could have happened for all they know, there’s also the part about them being International Rescue! They gotta be ready to respond to other disasters should those develop. TB1, 2 and 4 were still available for use!

If I was Jeff making the boneheaded decision, I would have taken a second to think about it and have 1 of the Bros come up in 3 with me. Seeing to John shouldn’t be something 4 people are needed for, it would just get more crowded and the oxygen would be used way faster! Considering they all come close to asphyxiating, 2 less people would mean things weren’t so damn close to the wire! (Granted, the movie also has them falling into Earth’s atmosphere and burning up as a hazard, but the whole crew being there doesn’t affect that.)

Jeff! You’re the patriarch and supposedly most experienced dude in the whole movie! Why didja run into that trap with both eyes open? Stressful situation, sure, but in the Rescue Business you need to be able to listen to the cold, clinical angle. You’re risking more of your sons’ lives making such a rash judgement!!

Character Conundrums

This is the part of the review where I begin to really emphasise the differences between TOS and this movie. I’ll hold off TAG for now in the interest of fairness.

The movie is a mixed bag when it comes to the individuals within it. Some have been refreshing updates to stuffy 60′s tropes, but several draw the short straw, feeling even stiffer than their marionette precursors.

Alan - Hoo, boy. The plot follows Alan.... for the third time if you’re factoring in the Supermarionation movies, which was quite the baffling choice as Puppet!Alan is quite the obnoxious jerk. But whatever, new movie, new canon, new Alan. While the Alan of the 60′s was a bizarrely whiny brat of a character considering he was supposed to at least be in his early 20′s this Alan at least makes more sense to be annoying. But yes, he starts off as a sullen jerk with unclearly defined jealousy towards his own brothers and seemingly a lack of grasping the stakes behind International Rescue, viewing being one of the crew as a Cool Job rather than a gruelling, life-risking ordeal. Over the course of the movie (mostly Act 3) he becomes less of a berk and a better team player, even going as far as to save the Hood personally.

Jeff - One of the stronger characters in the movie, even with this poor choice I’ve gone on about already, haha. You get the real impression the job means the world to him, but still secondary to his sons. An update and improvement to the sometimes stodgy and holier-than-thou character from the 60′s, plus his proactive role makes him way less of a backseat driver.

Lady Penelope - Best character and a splendid update to the 60′s Socialite. This Penny is always a delight to see, although her ability to change clothes offscreen sometimes pushes plausibility, haha. She and Jeff also have very natural and endearing chemistry, so for this iteration at least, I’m up for shipping them, something I can’t say for TOS.

Parker - Remarkably true to the beloved puppet version and another highlight. His interplay with Penelope is some of the best dialogue in the whole movie, and was written by Richard Curtis in an uncredited role, or so I’ve read.

The Hood - A shockingly sadistic and cold blooded so-and-so. His Psychic powers have been given a huge boost, and the depths of his spite generates all the tense scenes the movie has to offer. His performance may be the best in the whole film, simultaneously over the top while also completely deadly.

Tin-Tin - Y’know, Tin-Tin is a funny character, in how she’s very different in all versions. I enjoy her in TOS, but her potential as an engineering assistant, mathematician and member of IR are quickly discarded to make her a secretary, which is further demoted to bringing coffee. Ahh, The Sixties! One of her other defining features was the sometimes bickering sexual tension with Alan. Movie!Tin-Tin is still the implied love interest [and the same age] with him, but she’s also an Action Girl extraordinaire, with abilities bordering on metahuman. She can trek through the jungle without slowing down, she can dive underwater for prolonged sequences, and has a variation of her Evil Uncle’s Psychic capabilities, but used for good. Notably, the Kayo of TAG takes significantly more from this Tin-Tin to the original, sadly sans Telekinesis.

Fermat - The only OC I’m gonna dignify with a section here lol. He’s basically mini-Brains, complete with the way he t-ta-tal- -distinctive speech patterns. But yeah, as the hypersmart and nerdy pal, I feel that his role is pretty superfluous, though his performance in the movie got me to soften up, he’s a good kid. Just one who, like, is part of the deal breaking issue I have with the whole film. In a way I think he’d have made a better lead than Alan lmao

Brains - Not much to say here, he’s also a dude in distress for a majority of his screentime. Seems to be older than his TOS self and a bit less subservient to Jeff, but also a father ....or Fermat is his clone. They never make that clear. He’s hit on by the Hood’s Female Scientist and it’s played for comedy, more on that later.

John - In TOS, his role was infamously minimal, as Gerry Anderson took such a strong disliking to the John puppet and the TB5 model that he exiled both into space with a few token shots per episode. So in comparison, this movie is far kinder to John! He has a nice, genuine chat with Jeff, without any mission to initiate said videocall. The movie is also quite mean to John in how he gets bombed by the Hood, his space station in tatters, his arm hurt and then near suffocation with Jeff and most of his brothers. Ahh, the conundrum of being John.

Scott, Virgil and Gordon - No, they don’t even get their own paragraphs in my review. Their lack of presence and importance in the movie is my giant gripe (have you noticed yet?) and it got to the extent that I feel they could have been combined into one character to save casting money. They get maybe 5 lines each, if that. I literally can’t tell Scott and Virgil apart (I know they have name tags on their uniforms, but in most scenes I couldn’t even read that) other than knowing 1 of them is taller. Which that one is, is a mystery.

The only one with a slightly distinctive appearance and air is Gordon, which is another can of worms because he seems to be the designated Doubtful Jerk Brother and that drives me mad!! In TOS he wasn’t as main a character as Scott, Virgil or Alan, but he was still a defined person with his own abilities. And his personality was as a slightly mouthy but the most lighthearted character! Why didn’t they carry that over?!

And yeah, Scott and Virgil are pretty much the Main Two of the brothers in TOS, so their roles being reduced to 1 token act during the oil rig rescue each [Gordon didn’t even get that!] is all the more mind boggling.

Hood’s Minions - Can’t be assed to write their names out, I refer to them as Heavy Dude and Science Woman. Heavy Dude is the Heavy, and his character consists of Dumb and somewhat Sadistic Muscle. Science Woman is first objectified (we see her ass first. Yes, really.) but then it’s ‘revealed’ that as she has Austin Powers level teeth, she’s uuuuuglyyyyy and her otherwise genuine attraction towards Brains is played for laughs with this angle. And that’s still female on male sexual harassment, which doesn’t fly with me. Eeeesh. Bad writing! She does Science Things for Hood.

The Rest - Kyrano and his wife are in this. Wife is Original but basically Grandma’s role, though she doesn’t even get a single word to say. Rip. Also the Hood has a few more generic mooks from somewhere, but seemingly only for part of the movie. Kyrano didn’t do much in the show except get bullied by the Hood and little has changed.

Tone Trouble

I feel like the movie has a bit of an issue with balancing a consistent Tone. Again, let’s look back at TOS. It was a Family Show, designed to not just appeal to little kids, but to also keep their parent and other adult amused. Maybe some of it was also the result of the times, but striking to me is that they allowed the characters to get pretty hurt, complete with red paint being applied to look like realistic blood. Some of the criminals, including the Hood himself, would be very vicious, how he treats Brains in Desperate Intruder comes to mind. There was even firefights resulting in death, like the memorable climax of Operation Crash-Dive, where Gordon has to shoot a saboteur in the back, into the open sea below the compromised plane. He then proceeds to hold the cut wires together with his bare hands. Don’t try this at home, kids!

So while I can understand some of that being removed from the Movie (and TAG), there’s still the irritating going down to a perceived kid’s level for the majority of the film, which is probably also a large reason for the massive structural change. But then, there’s shockingly dark implications here and there, and the haunting sight of the crew trapped on TB5 floating lifelessly in the dark, asphyxiating. But then, again, we have goofy choreographed fight scenes with juvenile stock cartoon sounds. And then, we have Hood force choking Alan?! It has been mostly consistent until Act 3, then the tone goes up and down more than the flying machines.

Revamped Rockets

I’m mostly talking about the main craft here, though I know the Pod vehicles got modified too, I’m not sufficiently a TOS Pod Buff to go over them.

TB1 - Looks real nice! Maintains and even enhances the sleekness, and the idea of a glass cockpit is much better than having 1 tiny window and a dinky TV screen to see by. Oddly dark inside the cockpit considering how much glass there is, though. Probably my fav of the Movie Fleet.

TB2 - Oof. Looks bad, man. Like, really ugly. What have they done to the glorious design that was the Original Big Green? The unofficial mascot from her importance and unorthodox style? They turned her into a stubby, too glossy, chunky bar of green soap. The thick ass legs are a good idea but it sure ain’t enough. Also, she carries 3 smaller pods insteada 1 big one.

TB3 - Like TB1, pretty much the same design but streamlined a little. Docks with 5 sidewise instead of like pen going into its lid.

TB4 - I’m mixed. I like the idea of giving her a glass canopy and extendable arms, but the movie’s version is so boxy she looks more like a small yellow Greenhouse with the rear half of the old Four, haha. The arms also look a little stiff, can they bend? Now, if there was a sleek, glass hulled, variable armed, demolition charges-loaded Four, that would be my favourite possible version ;3 Four is my fav craft in TOS and TAG, for what it’s worth.

TB5 - I say it’s quite a visual improvement over TOS and the odds and ends jumbled look that had, though I do appreciate a bit of Chunkiness. This one really needs to have better defence too, TOS 5 may’ve been able to tank that missile lmao

FAB1 - I know that she would have been a Rolls Royce in the film, but BMW said no, so that’s not a point against the movie. And failing the classic image, it’s cute that it’s a Ford Thunderbird, though I’d have preferred one with those 50′s/60′s stylish fins personally lol. Her ability to fly is new here unless you count the Dream Sequence in Are Go (’66) and the water mode was also seen in that before this, and she gets the job done, though we don’t get to see as many gadgets and gizmos in the course of the film.

Unlikely Uniforms

I really don’t understand these. Why are they off white with minimal accent colours? What was wrong with the blueness of their suits and the broad stripe of a secondary colour? I sure ain’t saying the 60’s costumes were practical or even that fashionable, but they were very distinctive and striking!

Not only that, but for some strange unexplained reason, their uniforms all correspond not to their own speciality, but to which craft they’re currently piloting. Even if they’re all in the same Bird...! So like, four out of five are wearing identical looking red accented suits while locked in TB5. I already find the elder brothers to be the Similar Squad, and their microscopic name tags don’t help!

Why don’t they wear their own coloured uniforms all the time? Then ya don’t need the name tag at all! And the silly implication from the way there’s apparently a whole set of Craft Specific uniforms is that there’s piles of clothes that ain’t getting used in all of them, like the tiny TB4 probably having 6 whole sets on board at the end of the film.

Between that, no blue and the outfits looking like Generic Sports Wear, the only nice thing to say is the THUNDERBIRDS down the sleeve is a cool touch. Which should really say International Rescue or IR...

Mingled Misc.

Yeah, The conflation of Thunderbirds and International Rescue is a tad irritating but it’s actually something I can overlook. It’s not a dealbreaker and it makes sense the Dumbass Public would misunderstand and call them the wrong thing.

Jeff refuses Alan early access into IR and cites “No shortcuts”. Then at the end he echoes this when he is making Alan an official member, saying he did it with no shortcuts. The whole faffing scenario was a giant shortcut!!! Fuck training and being a suitable age, am I right?!

Amazingly I didn’t cover this already, but when Alan shortcuts his way onto the team he’s made pilot of ... TB4. That’s why he’s in yellow accents in the pic. Gordon is seemingly the main pilot of TB3 instead, but the movie doesn’t deign to make that clear. While I appreciate that the 14 year old with no Astronaut training isn’t put in charge of 3 instantly, I resent the careless removal of characterisation. Obviously movie Gordon never served with WASP or won the gold medal in swimming or had a massive hydrofoil crash to nearly kill him but ggggghgggaaahhhhhhhhh

Also what’s with the implication that Four is the Babby’s First Machine? She’s a highly specialised craft that would require different training to flying or Space shit! How dare you?! The most charitable link is that Alan stood around in 4 as Tin-Tin did most of the work herself, but I guess it coulda as some level of experience.

Ford Sponsorship - Gets a bit much! It’s one thing for all the cars to be Ford, but them seemingly owning the News is like an unpleasant look into a world where corporations run everything.... hahahaahaaaaaa........

Marvellous Music

Something the movie really excells at is the tunes! The remix of the Thunderbirds March is good in it’s own right and very welcome, and the new music is all solid. Special mention to Busted’s outro song for slapping so hard even people who hate the movie leave warm youtube comments about the song. I have a habit of listening to it set to TAG footage myself, haha

Sincere Summation

Look, I’ve come off negative in this, but I honestly have a lot of respect for a lot of the parts of this picture. Hood, Penelope, Parker and Jeff are fantastic, the physical models and sets have a lot of care and loving detail poured in, the music is all bangers and other little nods and homages to the show shine brightly. The director got a lot of good work in and I hold him no ill will.

I think the problem is in the Writing and probably Studio Mandates, I’m not 100% sure, but things often get snaggy when the studio you’re working under gets bought out by a bigger company partway through. Again, I’ll refer to the info I’ve seen instead of trying to relay it in my own words.

And they made a real bad call snubbing Gerry as a Creative Consultant. Some of his venom towards the film may be from that, as well as his alleged preference to Team America: World Police as a theatrical homage. And I’ve seen that before and wouldn’t really say that’s true to the spirit of Thunderbirds, but yeah...

I’d be interested in any future Thunderbirds Movies, if that’s ever on the cards again. I’d probably be even more up for continuation of the TAG series, or newer new Captain Scarlet with International Rescue involved. Either way, I want new footage of the Birds taking off again, be it puppet, people, CGI, or something new~

Extra Reading

https://securityhazard.net/2017/05/19/thunderbirds-2004/ Full movie review, warm reception. Contains photos of set pieces and costumes.

http://groovyfokker.blogspot.com/2013/02/thunderbirds-arent-go-unfilmed-versions.html Insight into some of the past issues developing a Movie, but gets some basic information wrong (Since when is Gordon the youngest and TB3 orange??)

Thanks if ya’ve been reading the whole thing! <3

[dakotacrisis]

Deal’s End (6)

What better screams romance than a horrific gore fest?

(Read on AO3)

---

“No.” Marinette slapped the dress out of Felix’s hands. “You dressed me up yesterday. You’re not doing it again today.”

“It worked!”

“I don’t care!” Marinette went to grab the outfit she laid out last night. “I already have something to wear.”

“Are you sure about that?” her outfit disappeared. She glared back at Felix who was holding up the dress again.

“Give me back my clothes.”

“I have your clothes right here.” he tossed the dress to her.

“I mean the clothes I picked.” she tossed it back at him.

“No can do. Besides, I thought you were trusting me.”

“For advice. Not fashion choices.” Marinette went to her closet. It was fine, she’d just pick something else. She opened the doors to her closet and gaped at the empty hangers. “FELIX!”

“That is so strange.” he shook his head, “Are all your clothes in the laundry? That seems very poor planning, love.”

“Put them back!” She growled.

“Wear the dress and I’ll put them back.”

“I hate you.” she snatched the red and white polka dotted sundress out of his hands and went behind the screen to change. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the dress or anything it’s just that she wasn’t in the mood for Felix. While yesterday may have ended in her favor it had also made her a little self conscious to be around Adrien again.

She stepped out in the dress and turned around. “Zip me up?”

“Gotcha.” He zipped up the back of her dress she couldn’t reach. “See? Is this so bad?”

“Whatever.” Marinette grabbed her bag and slipped on her shoes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

When they got to the sidewalk Felix spoke up again. “I sense you’re angry with me.”

“What was your first clue?” She spat.

“This isn’t about the dress at all is it? You’re only looking for a reason to be mad at me.”

“I don’t need to look for a reason to be mad at you. It’s a perpetual state.” She sneered. “I liked the outfit I picked out.”

“And you can wear it tomorrow. And besides, look,” he held his arms wide the sides of his red and white baseball tee fluttering in the wind, “We match!”

“As if I didn’t need another reason to want to take this off.” Marinette sighed.

“By all means go ahead, you’ll certainly get lover boy’s attention that way.”

“Why do I bother with you?” Marinette thunked the back of his head. “Perverted demon.”

“If I was that perverted I would have gotten rid of all your underwear too. Which by the way, how come you have no push-up bras? Yeah, yeah, I know all bodies are beautiful but you got mosquito bites. Why not give them a little lift?”

“You were in my underwear drawer?” Marinette stopped on the sidewalk.

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“You were in my underwear drawer!!”

“I was curious!”

“Curious about what? How many panties I had?”

“Uh Marinette--”

“Also, these are not mosquito bites mister!” she poked him hard in the chest, “These are B cups and still growing so you can take your nose out of my underwear drawer and shove it up your--”

“Hi Adrien.” Felix waved behind her.

Marinette froze. Then she relaxed. “Nice try, demon boy. Adrien arrives by car every morning so there is no way he could be behind me. So as I was saying if I see you raiding my underwear drawer again I am going to crack your skull open. Got it?”

“I understand.” Felix nodded. “But also…” He turned her around.

“A-Adrien!” Marinette stumbled back. Why of all the times Felix was being serious she had to take it as a joke?

“Good morning.” Adrien waved. He shifted from foot to foot uneasily. He heard that. He heard all of that! Adrien heard her yelling at Felix to stay out of her underwear drawer. Oh god, she was yelling about having not that small of boobs when he was right there!

“Looks like your friend walked today. Isn’t that funny?” Felix whispered in her ear. “Good luck.”

Felix proceeded to make a hasty retreat. “Felix! No! Get back here!” she yelled after him but he was not turning around. “If there is a god may he please kill me now.” She muttered.

“Um, Marinette?” Adrien said, “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She whirled around with a smile stretched painfully on her face. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Felix--”

“Oh that? That was nothing. Just a joke between friends. I should be going.” She turned to run.

“Wait.” Adrien caught her arm and gently pulled her back. She stared down at the ground. She couldn’t face him. Not after all of this.

“You said his people’s skill weren’t the best, right?” Adrien said.

Marinette peeked up through her bangs. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Yeah...they aren’t.”

“Do you want to walk to class or would you rather go find your chaotic neighbor and give him what for?”

“Oh trust me, he is big trouble next time I see him.” She relaxed a little and stood up straight. “I’m positively mortified that you heard any of that though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He put an arm around her shoulders as they walked to class. “Also, it’s a really pretty dress you have on today. That one you made?”

“It is. Thank you for noticing.” She wanted to loop an arm around Adrien as well but wasn’t sure if that was pushing it too far.

“Thank you for gracing the school with another Marinette original.” They stepped into class. “Oh, do you have the project?”

“Right here.” She pulled out the project from her bag. “Done and ready to turn in.”

“Awesome.” he scanned it over. “Oh, by the way, a group of us are heading to the movies after school. Did you wanna come?”

“Sure!”

“Great. Felix can come too if he wants.”

“What about me?” Felix appeared at her side in the blink of an eye.

“Nothing. Shoo.” she elbowed him away.

“Some friends of ours are going to the movies. Would you like to join?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Felix shrugged. “What are we seeing?”

“Coven of the Creep.”

“Wait, that new horror movie?” Marinette squeaked. “It’s supposed to be super scary, right?”

“You talking about the movie?” Nino joined in. “Oh yeah, it is meant to be one of the scariest, goriest, most disturbing new horror movies of the decade. I’ve been hearing nothing but good reviews and I am so stoked to finally watch it. Dodging spoilers has been rough.”

“That scary? Now I’m interested.” Felix said. “What about you, love?”

“I um...I…” Marinette hated horror movies. She was scared to death of them. Even the cheesy bad ones that everyone laughs at. She couldn’t handle horror in any capacity.

“Marinette’s not a fan of horror.” Alya came to her mute friend’s aid. “Girl is jumpier than a cat on a hot tin roof when it comes to anything scary.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Adrien frowned, “You don’t have to come if you’d rather not.”

“Sure she does.” Felix subtly pinched her arm, “It was just the other day we were talking about movies we had seen and she mentioned that she was looking into trying horror again.”

“That true?” Alya asked.

“No--” Felix pinched her arm harder, “Er, I mean, yes?”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Adrien gave her a waning smile. “But if at any moment you change your mind,”

“I’ll be fine.” Marinette elbowed Felix off her again. She really was going to kill him. He had better hope this movie didn’t give her ideas.

Classes sped by too fast for Marinette’s liking. She really didn’t want to go to this movie. She had been trying to psyche herself up for it but the effort fell flat. She was going to be willingly walking into a dark room with two hours of nightmare fuel and there was nothing she could do to stop it now. Every step towards the theatre felt like another step towards her own grave.

“Why did you say that I would go?” Marinette whined to Felix. “I hate horror! I am a huge scaredy cat! I can’t do this!”

“You are literally living with a demon and you can’t handle a little movie?”

“You’re annoying. Not scary.” She clasped her arms tight around her. “I know that the goal is to get me to spend more time with Adrien but this is too much? Don’t I have the power to veto some of your ideas?”

“Think about this from my point of view.” Felix put an arm around her, “You’re in a dark room, conveniently sat next to your crush. The movie starts to play, the first scare happens and you jump. Jump right into your waiting knight in shining armor’s arms. You cower into him the entire movie and he holds you and comforts you from the scary images and sounds. At the end you’re still shaking slightly. The credits roll but you are still there in his arms. You look up, frightened, trying your best to regain composure. He smiles, and suddenly the nightmares are farther away. And our young knight feels noble and needed by the helpless damsel.”

“You really need to stop reading my YA books.” Marinette replied blandly.

“He’s got a point.” Alya came up on Marinette’s other side. “Sorry to cut in but I couldn’t help but overhear you two plotting to get Marinette into Adrien’s arms. Girl, why didn’t you tell me Felix was acting as your wingman? I could have been helping this entire time!”

“Shush!” Marinette put a finger over her lips. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough to know sir stoic here has a flair for the dramatic.” Alya laughed. “As much as I know you hate horror, Felix is kinda right. This would be a good chance to steal some cuddles.”

“Cuddles should not be stolen. Cuddles should be freely given.” Marinette pouted.

“Then I’ll spoon you when we get home to make up for the stolen cuddles now. Better?” Felix said.

“No. Not better. I don’t even see how that would make up for anything.” Marinette groaned. Why was he like this?

“In another life you two would make a cute couple.” Alya said. Marinette glared at her. “Oh don’t give me that look. You’re obviously close. I say if things with Adrien don’t work out you take his bad boy clone over here for a spin.”

“Alya!” She started lightly smacking her arm. It was bad enough dealing with Felix but she couldn’t handle this talk from Alya as well.

“It is so satisfying seeing you happen to someone else.” Felix laughed. “Do it again! Do it again!”

“Shut it.” Marinette charged ahead, “Both of you!”

Since the movie was rated-R Marinette had a fleeting hope of them not being allowed in. That hope died the second Alya’s older sister showed up and bought the tickets for them to go in. Everyone paid back their share to her and shuffled inside the theater. Their group took up an entire row and Felix and Alya were sure to rig the seating so that Marinette was sat next to Adrien. Felix was on her other side to keep her from bolting before the movie began.

The opening credits started and already the creepy music had Marinette’s anxiety cranked up to eleven. It was slow going at first and she relaxed enough to think that maybe she could get over this. Maybe she had been acting like a baby the other--AND SOMEONE’S HEAD JUST GOT CUT OFF! Oh god no!

She flinched away from the screen and hid her eyes in Adrien’s shoulder.

“You alright?” Adrien whispered.

She shook her head profusely. “I’m--I’m sorry. I--I--I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay.” He pushed the arm rest between them up between the seats and put a protective arm around her. “Do you want to leave?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “I can--I can handle it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Okay. Just cling to me if you get scared.” He pulled her a bit closer. “And if you want to bail at any time you can. I’ll even buy you a slushie at the snack counter.”

“Thanks.” Marinette flinched away from the gore on the screen.

Two agonizing hours later the credits finally rolled. Marinette had done a fair share of screaming, jumping and burying her face in Adrien’s shoulder throughout the entire film. For facing her fears and being so brave in the face of such a scary film Adrien walked her to the snack counter for a victory slushie. He kept her close on his arm and didn’t let go until it was time for them to go separate directions home.

She knew she should have been over the moon but the blood curdling screams from the screen still haunted her in the back of her mind. Felix didn’t say anything on the rest of the walk home but let her hold his hand as tightly as she needed.

Right before bed Marinette got a text from Adrien.

Hope the movie didn’t scare you too much. Next time I invite you out let’s see a comedy. Sweet dreams --Adrien

At least it had been worth something.

---

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (7)

---

(tagged)

@sannsibarr @miss-mysterys-blog @maribug-adrienoir @mermaidreject @corabeth11 @goblinwhoships @symwinter

[sonatanotwo]

Today was a sleepy day, yeesh. I’m nearly falling asleep, but ohgosh somehow on a roll. Edited back through the 3rd chapter and got it to point think I can post it. ^^

...how should I be doing this... um...

Angelus Erarre (A Very Tentative Title)

(Aka as Jen’s fanfic she’s been working on forever)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

Jerking awake, Virgil sat up, once again feeling incredibly disoriented. The unfamiliar room served to bring back everything pretty quickly, however. Rubbing his face, let out a frustrated groan. He hadn't meant to go and fall asleep as he had, but at least he felt a whole heck of a lot better now.

Pushing himself from the bed, he made his way over to the windows, peering out. The sky was a dark blue, light starting to spread across the horizon—dawn was quickly approaching. If Scott was, well, Scott, he'd likely be getting up soon, so if Virgil wanted to try to get out of here, he needed to do it fast.

The large windows opened up to a veranda that appeared to wrap around much of the house from what he could make out. Examining the glass, Virgil quickly ruled the windows as being a good choice of escape—they were definitely made to weather even the harshest storms, as needed on an island in this region. Besides being tough, if shattering them was an option, it would be far too noisy. They did appear to slide open somehow, but given the door had been locked, it would have been a pretty big oversight to not lock them. Now, there was the option of using his laser tool, but doing so without his helmet felt a little risky, not to mention it would take time.  For now, Virgil turned his attention to his other option.

Going back to the door, Virgil ran his fingers over the control panel thoughtfully. This looked more like a lock for privacy than for really keeping someone inside. Digging his fingers around the edge, his confidence grew as he found it was hardly sealed.  Apparently it hadn't even occurred to them that leaving him with his tools wasn't a very smart idea. Plucking one from his belt, he easily managed to pry the cover off the panel and within a few minutes he let out a quiet, triumphant "Ha!" as the door slid open. Well, that had been even easier than he'd thought it would be.

Slipping through the door, closing it from the other side, Virgil glanced up and down the dark hallway. Which way? Unsure, he randomly chose a direction, coming to a stop where the hall turned a corner. Hiding there at the corner, Virgil carefully peeked around it. No one was in sight, but he could see light streaming from frosted windows beside one of the doors, much like the room he'd been in, suggesting it was another bedroom. He had no idea who's bedroom, but wanting to avoid any risks, Virgil decided to check the other end of the hallway first.

Retreating back the way he'd came, he tried a couple of the other doors. One was locked. Another just seemed to be another guest room. Then finally he found something promising—the door led to a narrow corridor. Luckily, windows ran along one side keeping it from being pitch black, thanks to the slowly brightening sky. Making his way quickly along it, and through another door at the end, he carefully slipped out into a large room.

The feeling of familiarity and almost wonder flooded over him as he slowly made his way into the room. The sensation was most akin to the day they'd finally made the big move from the farm back in Kansas to the island. To see all their belongings in a completely new place, but arranged all differently. This was almost like that.

The giant photograph of a space rocket and right beside it, two suspicious lamps on the wall and a row of portraits. A red desk and a piano, albeit white, over in the corner. There was probably more similarities, but his attention was quickly drawn to five portraits. They were photos, unlike the ones that hung in the lounge that he'd painted himself, but there they were, on the wall, in the same way. In the growing light, he could just make them out.

The first certainly was John, but a blond haired John, which was definitely strange to see. The second was Scott who, of course, he'd met in person. And the third... Wow. A brown haired and certainly older, well... him. It was rather unsettling, to say the least. Virgil moved on quickly. Then it was Alan, who definitely older than his Alan. Finally, there was Gordon a little more strawberry blonde than his brother and no where near John's ginger, but still certainly not the colour he was used to seeing on him.

Wow.

Virgil dragged his gaze away from the portraits, realizing he was likely wasting precious time. Something that hadn't been a waste of time though was taking a moment to glance again at the desk to the side. A familiar object had been left there and Virgil was quick to reclaim it—his wrist controller—he'd almost forgotten Scott had taken it from him. Slipping it back onto his wrist, Virgil made his way over to the glass panels. They appeared like they should slide, much like the bedroom one, except hopefully these wouldn't be locked.

Luck was still on his side, as Virgil was able to easily push one open and slip out onto the veranda, quietly sliding it shut behind him. Making his way quickly down the staircase to the pool level, he backed up to press against the villa while he took in the surroundings. The horizon was far brighter now—the sun would soon be making it's appearance. With no idea of the schedule of those residing inside, he needed to get away from the villa as quickly as he could. At least he was fairly certain the runway was below the villa, from what he could remember. The only downside was the cliff. Yeah, that was going to be a pain. He'd need to get down somehow. Though, yeah, he could fly Thunderbird 2 up to him, the sound of her engines alone would probably wake the entire household. Taking off from the runway would be a far better plan.

A sudden feminine gasp behind him made him almost practically jump. Turning quickly, he was faced with someone he didn't know at all. That wasn't the problem though. The problem was she was backing up as if to dive back inside. "W-Whoa, wait a minute!" He dove forward, grabbing her arm to halt her movements.

"No! Please!"

Guilt fell over his face as he took in her frightened expression and Virgil promptly released her arm, holding both his hands up, in a peaceful gesture. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... I don't want to hurt you. I just... Please. Please, listen?"

Slowly her startled face settled and she hesitantly gave a nod. "Alright. I'm listening."

Thank goodness. A chance to at least stall her a moment was something at least. "Look, I don't know what's going on or how this happened, or anything really. I just know I got to figure out how to get home to where I belong. I don't want to cause trouble. I just want to get back to my ship and leave, okay?"

"Your ship... Thunderbird 2?" she questioned him, looking still a little wary.

"Yeah."

Virgil watched her look him up and down before her gaze met his. Then something seemed to change. Her eyes widened for a moment before her expression settled into something Virgil wasn't entirely sure of. Recognition? Whatever it was, she wasn't looking at him as she had before. In fact... there was something about her, but he couldn't put his fingers on it.

"Could you at least give me a head start?" he asked, hoping she might at least do that much for him. Thunderbird 5 would be hard to escape, but he knew it's blind spots. He just needed enough time to get down the cliff and get into the air.

"You do realize the cliff is quite steep?"

"Yeah, I noticed. It'd be quicker to get down with a grapple, but I'm pretty sure I'll manage," he said, not sure where she was going with this.

"Come. I’ll show you another way," she surprisingly offered, gesturing to him to follow. Virgil hesitated, remaining where he stood, unsure if this was a good idea or not. He'd just managed to escape, after all. It seemed rather a bit counterproductive to go back inside the very place he'd just snuck out of.

"Virgil...?"

Hearing his name made his head snap up, a look of surprise now on his face as he looked over at her. "What did you say?"

"You are Virgil, aren't you?" she asked him, tilting her head.

"I... Well... Yeah, but..." Virgil replied, staring at her slightly dumbfounded. Yeah, he thought he'd seen recognition in her eyes, but he hadn't dared to believe it. Who was this girl?

"You’ll be safe as long as you're with me. Come... hurry!" she said, beckoning him again to the door.

Hoping he wouldn't soon regret this, Virgil decided to take the chance and follow her back into the villa. Moving as quietly as he could, he was introduced to the lower level of the villa, which seemed to be mostly hallways and doors. Beckoning him again, she led him through various corridors before finally ending up in a lift.

After standing there silent for a moment, he finally looked over to her. "So... Sorry didn't have much of an introduction. You're...?" he asked, breaking the silence to hopefully quell the weird sensation he had about her.

"You don't know?" the girl asked, sounding a little confused by his question. Then again, she'd seemed to work out who he was, so he supposed maybe she thought he'd know her too...

"No... I'm afraid not," he told her apologetically, trying to figure out how to put this. "At the risk of sounding, uh, kinda crazy... the world or whatever I'm from... I can't say I know you."

"I'm Tin-Tin... Tin-Tin Kyrano," she introduced herself.

"Kyrano?" he echoed, eyes widening as he turned his head to look at her once more. She didn't really resemble Kyrano or Kayo to him, but... No, that wasn't true at all. Her eyes were a very distinct colour; a very familiar colour. The shape of her eyebrows and curve of her jaw...  He really hadn't been paying attention, had he?

"...Tanusha?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh... never mind. It's not important. You just remind me of someone."

Virgil dropped it for now, though he had a feeling his gut was right. (And if it was somehow wrong, Tin-Tin was undoubtedly was related to Kayo.) At this point he really had to concentrate on getting to Thunderbird 2 and then hopefully figuring out how on earth to get back where he belonged. He could think about things like who Tin-Tin was another time.

"So you believe you are from... ah, what is it called... An alternate universe?"

"Honestly? I have no idea what to believe right now," Virgil answered truthfully. "I just want to get back to my brothers." And Grandma, Kayo, Brains, Lady Penelope and Parker... even MAX and EOS. He'd be happy to be back with them all about now. In fact, he really wished he would just wake up and find this was all one hell of a dream. Yeah, that would be nice.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened, revealing a long tunnel. It didn't take too long to long to arrive at some doors which brought them into, what appeared to be, another residence. Glancing out the large windows, Virgil quickly realized was likely the structure he vaguely recalled seeing overlooking the runway. And there, sitting still on the runway, was Thunderbird 2. So far, so good. He was almost there.

Tin-Tin pointed to another door. "There is another lift there. It will take you down to an exit to the runway," she told him. "I am afraid I must hurry off. If I am gone any longer it will be noticed."

"That's alright. Thank you for taking me this far, Tin-Tin," he told her, glad for the help. This might have not been exactly the fastest way down, but it had been certainly been an easy way. It was very likely her assistance had kept him from getting caught once more.

"I am glad I was able to help, but... Virgil, are you certain you should be leaving? We could help you, surely?" Tin-Tin asked, sounding like she was pretty puzzled by his actions.

"Scott wouldn't even believe I was who I said I was... If I can't convince Scott, how could I even hope convince the others?" he explained, still feeling sort of shocked Scott hadn't been even willing to listen to him. He didn't really want to be leaving the people who were most likely to be able to help him in some way, but he didn't have much choice right now.

"Perhaps he just needs more time...?" she suggested, but Virgil shook his head at the suggestion. "Don't worry about it. I'll figure out what happened myself." Somehow.

"They've probably noticed I've escaped by now, so I really gotta run and you do too, right? Thanks again, Tin-Tin," he told her, then turned, hurrying to the door to the lift.

“Good luck!” he heard her call after him.

Soon he was out on the runway approaching Thunderbird 2. He went to reach for his wrist controller, but let out a curse as he noticed a jet not far from the island that was definitely making an approach for the runway. He dove behind one of the palm trees, hoping he hadn't been spotted. Virgil watched as the jet fired it's VTOLs, landing not far from Thunderbird 2.

It was frustrating to be SO close to his ship and yet so far. He contemplated trying to find a longer term hiding place, but... no, he hadn't gotten this far to turn back now. All he had to do was get on board—they'd be hard pressed to stop him once he got inside.

Slowly, hiding as best he could, he dove between cover making his way closer to his aircraft to the point he was only a handful of yards away. Touching his fingers to his controller, Thunderbird 2's hologram floated above his wrist. Taking the hand controller from his belt, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Alright. He just had to make a dash to jump onto the cockpit elevator and he'd be home free.

He decided to run on the count of three. One... Two... Three!

Virgil dove from his cover, running towards Thunderbird 2. The next thing he knew something, or rather, someone had slammed into him. Dazed, it took a moment for him to realize what was happening as he lay on his back on the rough pavement of the runway.

"Just where do you think you're going!?"

Oh no...

It was Scott.

----

(Just a little end note since I feel like maybe I should explain few things. Um. 1. Yes, it’s a crossover because I’m dumb and love crossovers... though it’s only kinda since it’s the within the same franchise. lol 2. Okay so like... my thinking into why they’re being so kinda... awful. The TOS folk here. ...They’re kinda pretty paranoid in TOS. XDDD Bring couple kids in a ship that doesn’t even have really windows... who probably couldn’t even begin to tell where they are... BUT STILL. BLINDFOLDS. Someone’s in the pod? They’re all there with their guns. Like. Yeah. Some guy shows up saying he’s Virgil... with a “copy” of TB2 like The Imposters... shows up on their secret island... Plus Virgil and their TB2 went missing same time? Yeaaaah. XD They just wouldn’t be too trusting at this point, I figure. SO UH YEAH. That’s my brain thinkings into all this.)

[saddeniq]

🍂, 🌾, 💐, 🌿, and 🌲 for the oc of your choice!

thanks for the ask anon! I’m gonna answer for all my OCs because I’m bored and avoiding homework

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Over all what are they like with receiving affection from others?

Mortuus - Would SCREAM and probably launch her self across the room if anyone ever tried to hug her. She rarely ever shows affection, and it’s usually in the form of not killing someone. In the rare case she did ever get slightly attached to someone, she’d probably just give them random trinkets she’d find on her travels or give them food/water without saying anything.

Karah - Would hug them right back but 10x tighter. She craves any sort of attention/affection and in turn shows a lot of physical affection towards those she loves. Karah would accept a hug from just about any body as long as she knows them. She has really warm mom hugs.

Amourette - Would either start screeching or crying if someone hugged her. She’ll only ever accept hugs from certain people, those being her favorite companions and boyfriend (I really have to him a name). If anyone else tried to touch her she’d bite their hand clean off. There have been occasions where she ended up in the Diamond City jail because of it. To show her affection she gives her companions dead things, like birds in boxes or just a finger wrapped up in paper. 

Agnes - Would totally melt if someone hugged her. Charon’s not a hug kinda guy, and Butch teases her way too much to man up and give her a hug, so it’s not very often she receives one. Agnes herself kisses people on the cheek, and she does it a lot. She wants to make sure her friends know they’re loved because she cares a lot about them.

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

(These may or may not be from their relationships/ships)

Mortuus - Gosh, I remember who she used to be. So stubborn and rash, but she was always so careful with me. I miss her.

Karah - She was just what I was looking for, I couldn’t ask for anything more

Amourette - There’s a person underneath her cold and albeit bloody exterior. You wouldn’t know it, but I do. 

Agnes - She’s too soft for her own good but I can’t say no to those puppy eyes

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Mortuus - She hates being sick and refuses to stay in bed to recover. Mortuus doesn’t care if she can’t think straight or vomits around every corner. She can’t stand not doing anything, it makes her feel useless and lazy. No one really stops her from leaving anyway. If she had to take care of someone else, she’d do great in theory. In reality she has no patience to sit around next to someone whose wallowing in their own disease. Mortuus would make them medicine, leave it next to them, and leave.

Karah - Acknowledges that she needs to sleep to get better, but doesn’t like it one bit. She’ll annoy the hell out of whoever’s watching after her and crack one too many jokes. When she was BOS, she’d make fun of Danse in his power armor (even though she always had her own suit on) and throw tiny pebbles at him. Gage has a much harder time taking care of her, seeing how he doesn’t have any fancy tin can to protect himself from the arsenal of trash she’ll throw in his direction. Karah herself would make an excellent caretaker, making the best soup and knowing the right medicines and remedies. 

Amourette - In the rare occasion sickness manages to keep her stuck in bed, she doesn’t handle being sick for one reason and one reason only- the companions refuse to give her the “right” kind of food. MacCready makes her vegetable soup of which she just knocks onto the floor. She refuses to eat anything that isn’t meat even if she ends up throwing it up anyway. Amourette would make a horrible caretaker, and would try to feed her patients human one way or another. None of the companions trusts the remedies or food she makes.

Agnes -  The only one of the girls who wouldn’t throw a fit about being sick. She’s the most compliant of the four, and will just lay in bed and take whatever’s given to her. Charon would take care of her while she’s sick while Butch would bring her random magazines to keep her entertained. Agnes wouldn’t be the best caretaker, but she does know a few things from what James taught her. She tries her hardest.

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

Mortuus -  Listens to everything they have to say and gives them her full attention. She’s not a patient person, so for her to sit down and listen doesn’t happen very often. Her (ex)girlfriend used to carve designs and patterns into the wooden bits of her guns.

Karah - Makes food for them but with experimental recipes. When she gets  to Nukaworld there’s a lot of Nukacola in her recipes since she has so much of it. Gage would get her small trinkets from the commonwealth since he knows that she gets homesick sometimes.

Amourette - Remembers all the tiny details, no matter how small or how long ago they were mentioned. She scours through broken down buildings and market stalls to look for things her friends want, even if it’s something unimportant. Her boyfriend hooked her up with a HUGE discount at the meat market in Diamond City when they first met and she’s still happy about it.

Agnes - She doesn’t have much to offer in terms of gifts, so she always squeezes other’s hands or gives them a hug. The companions let her use them as a pillow whenever she’s upset since she always sleeps after crying. 

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Mortuus - She hates and denies all of her emotions so she has little understanding of them. Mortuus has a hard time realizing that other’s have emotions and aren’t as desensitized as her, which makes her horrible to talk to in any relationship. If she has to be there to support someone, she supports them in a “I’m here with you” sense. 

Karah - Karah understands what it’s like to go through something dark, seeing as she lost her life, son, husband, and mentor very quickly. She’ll listen to you if you ask for it, but has very little empathy for those she doesn’t know. Her support is very physical, she’ll hold someone and make sure they’re alright. She’s extremely protective of those who are close to her and will snap the knees of those who hurt them.

Amourette - Accepts her own emotions but doesn’t understand them. Whenever she feels a certain way, she’ll just announce it. If it’s a negative emotion, she usually get’s really confused. Amourette is definitely not the best at giving comfort, seeing as she has no sensitivity or sense of morals. Her support would be biting whatever the problem is. If it’s not a physical thing she’ll find a way to bit it, somehow.

Agnes - Understands her own emotions and empathizes with others a little too much. When Agnes first encountered the Enclave, her first thought was to try and negotiate. A tiny bit of her felt guilty when she made Ravenrock self destruct despite what the Enclave had done. She supports and comforts her friends to the best of her ability, which usually consists of pecks on the forehead, listening to their problems, and holding their hand.  

[mercifuldeaths]

Vertigo: Chapter 5: Walls

Vertigo: Chapter 5

Walls

This fic is in progress.

Jim Mason x Reader

Warnings for this chapter: Smut, mentions of drug use

Summary: Things are finally good and Jim is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, things will get even better. 

Notes: Oh my sweet, Jim. Really just some fluff and smut as Jim’s newest relationship is explored. Enjoy it while it lasts because.......it doesn’t last :)

Word Count: 6.1K - hope that makes up for the wait :)

Long shadows stretched over the wooden table, now littered with both their empty mugs, notebooks, and laptops. The sun was setting, a far cry from the high light that shone in when she entered the coffee shop. Jim guessed that they had been there close to eight hours, neither of them getting much work done.

His phone vibrated against the table, again. Y/N signed and snatched it up before he could. She held it so he could see “Gremlin” pop up as the contact name. Of course, it was Medina.

“Answer the phone, Jim,” she deadpanned. Medina had called a few times over the course of the day, Sandy, too. He had declined them all, repercussions be damned.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just Medina.”

“She’s worried about you. Just let her know that you’re fine,” she stopped herself from answering the phone herself, feeling that maybe that was taking things a little too far.

She could tell that Jim was a very private person despite the way he acted when all the boys were around. He seemed much smaller sitting there, pinched brows looking at his laptop and notes. He had shrugged off his denim jacket hours ago and was just in a tee shirt she had to stop herself from imagining herself wearing to bed. His arms were exposed, tan and toned from hours in the sun. She always thought he was most beautiful with the sun on him, soaking in its light and radiating it out.

“She needs to stop worrying about me. I’m fine,” he leaned over and gently grabbed the phone from Y/N. “I’ll text her, how about that?”

“Fine,” she said with a graceful simplicity. “But are you fine?”

His eyes flashed something of fear, fear of her finding out more than he had intended. “Because I’ve had you here hostage for like, hours now,” she continued and he exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Sorry your one night stand became,” she gestured to their messy table and herself, making a face.

He laughed, a little uncomfortable. Was that all that was? A one night stand? Swallowing thickly he said, “Doesn’t have to be a one-night thing.” She gave him a quizzical look, seeking an explanation.

“Jim. I can’t believe that I have to be the person to remind you, but you have a girlfriend.”

He felt his stomach tie itself in knots. If he was Phil, then this was his sidepiece reminding him of his real relationship. He tried to push his feelings down, deal with them later.

He hesitated. “I don’t think Heather is...that anymore,” he murmured, feeling his face burn. “She hasn’t answered my calls or texts for two weeks.”

“Oh,” Y/N responded, her voice small. “I’m so sorry. I would never have-I didn’t know-” she tried to find the words she wanted to say but all of them fell short.

“It wasn’t you!” he reassured her. “I’m pretty sure I said some shit earlier that night. I don’t really remember that part…” he trailed off, still embarrassed.

“Okay...I’m still sorry,” she consoled quietly.

“Don’t be,” he managed another smile and she felt her heart waver. “What is that saying? Liquor reveals true feelings or personality or whatever?” He looked to her. “And I really didn’t like her that much, anyway,” he mumbled, a little more quiet.

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” she let out a sad laugh. “Are you going to break my heart, Jim?” her voice lilted and he couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not.

He answered honestly, anyway. “Y/N, I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

--

Somehow the conversation had turned to other things. That’s how he found himself awkwardly standing in the foyer of her massive house. Arched ceilings, high windows, sweeping staircase. He admired the architecture but chastised the luxury. I’d all be torn down in a few years anyway.

“What do your parents even do?” he shouted to her after she had run upstairs. He didn’t follow. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. No more quick and dirty fucks, at least not until he had made sure she actually liked him for him. He couldn’t bear to hurt her and he didn’t think he could take any more hurt, himself. He wanted to move slow.

“It’s just my dad. He does something for the Pentagon. Defense or something?” her voice traveled down the stairs where he could hear her rummaging around. He found himself imagining her bedroom. “Is it bad that I don’t really know?” she said reappearing at the top of the stairs, a playful smile on her lips.

He laughed and kept looking around, sort of in awe. There were family pictures scattered throughout the halls and on the coffee table. It’s just my dad. But there was a woman in some of the photos. A tall brunette with a heart-shaped face was in most of them when Y/N looked young. As Y/N aged through the photos he noticed that she was no longer there. The stoic man with greying hair, broad and stern, was in all of them with a protective gaze over Y/N’s shoulder.

What really confused him, however, was the other girl. A small one, definitely younger than Y/N. She had the same eyes and lips as her...sister? He couldn’t be sure but that’s absolutely what it looked like. Photos of them on beaches were everywhere. A sandy toddler’s hand being held by a young Y/N, waves high and rough in the background. If he had to guess there was maybe a five-year difference between the two.

The most recent looked...recent. He didn’t like that at all. It was the two of them on what looked like the same beach from when they were kids. The younger one zipped into a wetsuit, smiling at the camera while Y/N was behind her, resting her elbow on the shorter one’s head, wrapped in a knit coverup. There was only one small surfboard cast aside.

He could place some photos after that day by the young one’s noticeable absence. Like Y/N said- It’s just her and her father. He knew Medina mentioned that she was an only child and he knew almost no details, but he could piece together that something horrid had happened. His blood ran cold.

He snapped out of his reverie by her bounding down the stairs, meeting him by the front door. Acting casual, he tried to hide his new discovery. If she wasn’t ready to share he wouldn’t push her.

“So these are the ones that Chad gave me. He promised they’re pure but I don’t know if I trust him,” she opened an Altoids tin to reveal some pills and a dime bag of coke, her dwindling stash. He didn’t know why, but seeing her holding his poison of choice made his stomach drop, sadness washing over him. She placed some small blue tablets into one of the small plastic baggies, sealed the top and handed it to him.

“What did we take when,” she hesitated, obviously alluding to the night that they had become quite...acquainted. A nervous laugh escaped her. “I was rolling.” Her smile was small and he became aware of the fact that he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

Jim faltered. “I, uh. I don’t know,” he admitted and started picking at his fingers.

“It’s cool. I can ask around.” She smiled, not aware of how he was embarrassed. He couldn’t untie the knot in his stomach when he saw her pick through her collection of pills, contemplated taking one, and then decided to save it for Skeezer’s birthday later that week. “It’s going to be insane. I don’t even think I’m ready for it,” she informed him.

Truth be told, he was ready for that rager. What he was more ready for was the inevitable group of people waiting for him on the top of a cliff, ready with booze and anything else he wanted. Just a little. You’re doing so good. It wouldn’t be much, just enough. He tried to tell himself but he knew what the next few evenings would consist of.

He’d been out so often lately he owed it to his mom to stay in.

The little blue pills Y/N had gifted him would absolutely help with Sandy’s nonsense and he was grateful. He knew the tightness in his gut would disappear the second he placed it on his tongue.

“I would invite you up, but you said you have plans” She stepped closer to him and he could feel her warmth. Plans. Yeah. Go fish, shitty reality TV, and bitching about his father. Those were the plans for the evening and probably the whole week. It would be his plans for his whole life if Sandy had her way.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled leaning into her. He pressed a light kiss to her lips. He kept it innocent and slow. He was going to do it right this time. This wasn’t how it was with Heather. This time it was real, he knew it in his bones. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

“Dinner? Soon?”

“Anything you want.” He placed another kiss on her forehead and she smirked and he started on his way out of the door. His eyes shone under the night sky-her personal universe.

“Anything? Now that could be a lot of things, now couldn’t it?” She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he made his way down the driveway to his car.

“I’ll give you this whole world. I promise.”

And she knew he was telling the truth.

--

The next few months passed in a blur of salt water and stars. Nothing was forced or unnatural. In fact, it was the most Jim had ever felt like himself. It was unexplainable, and he had tried to explain it to Medina but he just sounded like a moron. She had told him as much.

“It’s like...she’s just,” he blew out the cloud of smoke he had been holding in his lungs. The beach was quiet that morning with mushy grey waves lapping at the rocks. It felt like he and Medina were back in their treehouse-just the two of them where nothing could hurt the two of them. “It’s like we’re the same? You know?”

“So you’re dating yourself?” She rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s like-she kinda reminds me of you.” He looked to his twin and tried to tame his hair that was tangling in the wind.

“So you’re dating me? Jim, that’s even weirder.” She leaned over and flicked his ear.

Flinching, he responded, “No! No. God. It’s just like, you know how you and me are connected? It’s kinda like that. It just works.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”

“Yeah, you really can’t.” She slapped him on the shoulder and stood up to grab her board. “Let’s go, stupid.”

He raced her into the water, now determined to get the first good wave.

--

Sandy had been an issue, of course. When she found out he had a girlfriend, and had one for six months at that point, she just about lost it on him. He found himself curled on his side in her bedroom getting the lecture she always gave when she had the slightest suspicion he was seeing someone.

“You could get her pregnant! She could force you to marry her!” Her shrieks reverberated in the house.

“I’m not getting married, mom. I’m too young,” he mumbled, head half buried in the pillow. He didn’t tell her that he would gladly marry Y/N in an instant, no thought process required. Sometimes at night, when things were getting bad, his thoughts would drift to her in an ivory dress, barefoot on the beach, palm trees creating shadows over her face.

“Well then, there’s no point in seeing her. I forbid it.” With that, he sat up and turned to face his mother.

“I’m not going to stop seeing her, mom.” He shrugged and went to stand. She pushed him back to the mattress with a press of her hand onto his shoulder. He gently removed it and stood. It felt strange, looking down at her. Sometimes he forgot that he was taller than her, and had been for some time.

Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t a kid anymore.

Medina had been standing in the doorjamb, watching things unfold. Jim couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he pushed past her while she did her weird staring thing he always begged her to stop doing, for the sake of his friends.

“The fuck are you looking at,” he hissed at her. She was the reason that Sandy knew about Y/N. He wasn’t even sure of how Medina let it slip, but she did. He briefly thought that maybe she was jealous that her friend started dating her brother, but Medina didn’t get jealous. And Y/N still spent plenty of time with just Medina. She had no reason to tell Sandy, but a small part of Jim told him that she did it on purpose, just to spite him.

“Jim!” Sandy stormed out of her room, rattling the china in the cabinets. Jim was throwing some water bottles and granola bars into his backpack. “Jimmy, what are you doing? Where are you going?” she asked, breathless. She ran up to him, balling his tee shirt into her fists, clinging to him. “Stay,” she sobbed out.

Jim, very gently, Medina noticed, unraveled her fingers from his shirt and peeled her away from him. His face was drawn and he looked exhausted, eyes burning from lack of sleep. He still wore his stress on his face.

He slipped on his jacket and pulled on the sneakers that were next to the door. Sandy was now collapsed, full tears staining her face. “Jimmy, no, no, baby. I’m sorry, mommy’s sorry, baby.”

His heart ached but he kept his face still. He looked to his twin, still watching-not moving toward their mother. “I’ll be back soon,” he said directly to Medina, avoiding Sandy.

His heart thrummed in his chest as he walked to his car, making sure the usual beach blankets were in the back. He pulled out his phone and tapped her contact name: “Snake Queen” an inside joke from when Y/N would snake every single wave from the bay boys, just to prove herself.

She answered on the first ring. “Hey!” He let out a sigh, trying to slow his breathing.

“Hi, babygirl. Get some shoes on and bring a jacket. I’ll be by in five,” he rushed out, but he couldn’t tell why he was moving so fast. Nobody cared enough to come after him, anyway.

“What? I thought you were in with Sand- I thought you couldn’t go out tonight?”

“I’ll be by in five-better be ready or I’ll leave without you,” he threatened but they both knew that for her, he would wait forever and a day.

He tore down Palos Verdes West Drive and turned onto Laurel, already seeing her house in view. According to Google, it was supposed to take six minutes to get there but if he went fast he could get there in three. He had timed it.

The outside light was on, their signal that she was home alone, father gone to DC. He beeped the horn to the rhythm of the song on the radio until she crept out of the front door, already laughing. Just seeing her smile, he already knew it was all worth it.

She locked up and slid into the passenger seat. “Jim, it’s late, be quiet!”

He just looked at her, a goofy smile on his face. He stuck his tongue out. “I do what I want,” he mocked her higher pitched voice. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, loving his silly mood.

“So, what is this? Where are we going?” She looked around the car for any hints but there were none.

“Can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.” He smiled and started to pull away from the house, driving a little too fast. “I can tell you that we’ll get pizza on the way. But after that, surprise.” The car wove in and out of traffic, always making her a little nervous, but she supposed that was where the thrill came from.

Under his good mood, she could tell that something was off about Jim that night. He wasn’t high, she could tell that immediately, all too acquainted with her boyfriend’s second personality. He was talking a little too fast, driving too reckless, eyes a little manic. There were no drugs involved, but she could tell he was high off something else. If she had to wager it was that he wasn’t with his mother.

Something must have happened. She swallowed thickly but was more than happy to be happy with Jim. Seeing him smile was really the most beautiful thing, she thought. She looked at his profile as he sped down the street. His eyes were bright, the blue shining with every headlight that shone on them. The crinkles next to his eyes told her that the grin she fell in love with was authentic. He let out a genuine laugh and placed his right hand on her thigh, thumb stroking over the soft fabric of her leggings.

“What?” He looked at her, a little self-conscious.

“Nothing.” Her eyes widened. “Sometimes I just fall in love with you all over again.”

--

They had been driving for three and a half hours, taking the long way despite his fast speed. It being so late, she had pulled her legs onto the seat and started napping while he drove, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. He kept a hand on her knee anyway.

At some point, she had put on one of his sweatshirts that he usually kept in the back seat. She pulled the hood over her eyes, drawstrings tight and he couldn’t help but giggle at her-never forgetting how lucky he was.

Finally arriving, he pulled into the dirt site, cutting the lights. “Baby,” he whispered really not wanting to wake her up. “We’re here.” He ran a thumb over her lips, the only exposed part of her face. She started to stir and he gently pulled the hood off, revealing half mass eyes.

“Where are we?” She met his quiet volume.

“Come on.” He bounded out of the car and jogged around to open her door, blankets tucked under his arm.

She tentatively climbed out and looked around. “The woods?” she guessed, sounding incredibly confused.

“Joshua Tree,” Jim corrected, throwing blankets over the roof of the car. “Climb up.” He gestured to the now padded and warm surface.

She finally understood what was going on, and she was more than happy to oblige. “You just want me to go up first so you can get a view,” she murmured, perfectly content burying her face in his chest.

“You are absolutely right. Now up,” he gave her bottom a gentle pat followed by a firm squeeze. She grumbled but listened, using the open door to boost herself up. “Mmmm,” he hummed. “That is my favorite view. You know what those leggings do to me,” he laughed and followed her lead onto the roof.

He situated himself next to her, feeling her warmth. She pressed herself to him, still feeling the chill in the air. Her gasp surprised him when she rolled onto her back.

There was the entire galaxy above them. In stunning detail, no light pollution, she felt like she could feel the stars’ light shining on them.

“I know, right?” Jim sighed next to her and turned over to look at the display of the universe. He swore if he stayed still enough he could feel the earth’s rotation. They both lay, taking measured breaths, fingers intertwining. “It doesn’t look real.”

“But it is,” she whispered to him. She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the stars anymore. She took the hand that wasn’t holding his and raised it to the sky. “Cassiopeia, right?”

He noticed Gemini wasn’t visible, a set of clouds covering it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her temple. He curled around her, the whole universe above them but his whole universe in his arms.

--

They still partied. It was how they met, afterall and something that they both enjoyed. Jim, for the ability it gave him to become someone else, even just for a little bit. He’d wash his mind out with liquor and refill it with a poison of the night. And he knew it was bad but he enjoyed Y/N’s company when he was like that because he knew she was feeling just the same way.

Slowly though, he noticed that he was going through his stash slower, more tablets piling  up after his weekly pick up from Chad. Eventually he went to getting more every ten days, then two weeks. His mind became clearer in class, he was actually able to get a significant amount of work done on his thesis, and he started to enjoy the sun more. When he was in the waves balanced on his board he started to actually feel the sunlight rather than just seeing it, as if it were far away.

She never asked him to stop or slow down. Yes, she worried immensely but when Y/N saw that he was slowing down to her pace, that worry died down. Recreational use wasn’t all that bad, she reasoned with herself. Especially for someone coming back from true addiction, like Jim. He was doing good. And they were fine.

People around PV started noticing them always with each other. Partners in crime, Bonnie and Clyde. They’d walk around with their mischievous smirks, really just happy to be together, ready to laugh at any moment. The bay boys gave Jim shit, of course.

“The hot one, really, Jimmy? Leave something for the rest of us.”

“Medina’s friend? Come on.”

“Snake Queen? You’re just fucking her so she stops stealing your waves.”

But even the boys saw a change in Jim. He was lighter. Something about him seemed right. Less darkness behind his eyes, shoulders pressed down rather than bunched up, and always a smile after sealing a glance at Y/N during a set or at a bonfire.

It was at one of those bonfires he knew that he really was in it. The fire lit up her face, framing her from where she stood swaying to the shitty music Alex was playing on the guitar. She stole the beer out of his hand and took a small sip. In the other hand she laced his fingers to hers.

“Dance with me,” she said, hips still swaying. She looked completely in her element, nobody could tell if the confidence came from a few beers but that hardly mattered.

“No, no baby,” he laughed and shook his head, eyes suddenly fascinated with the sand between his toes.

“Pretend...that it’s the last night. That the world doesn’t exist.” She lifted his hand in hers and spun herself under his arm. He couldn’t care less what the boys though, but he knew they’d make fun of him the next day. He also knew he didn’t care.

He grabbed her hips and rocked to the music, holding her close. He rested his head on hers and pressed his lips to her soft hair. Looking out to the dark horizon he knew that it was going to hurt when it was all over. Because everything ended. But he also knew that there was no going back.

--

Deciding to get away for the day had been her idea and it wasn’t too far, but it wasn’t Palos Verdes and that’s all that mattered. Sure Manhattan beach was more crowded, less exclusive, but that was the point. To escape the judging eyes and oppressive cultures of both the bay boys and the tennis moms was a vacation in and of itself.

He had spent the night at hers, waking before dawn just to watch the moon’s light shadow over her face. Still dark, they packed up their boards and wetsuits in her Jeep and headed out.

Y/N had always loved this time of day, the dawn. Things were still except for her fluttering heart every time she looked at Jim. Jim, certainly not a morning person, felt exhilarated, escaping in a getaway car. For the whole day he wouldn’t have to be a ‘bay boy’ or his mother’s keeper. He could be Jim.

The crowd there was used to tourists, people who came and went, so the pair wasn’t questioned.

The sun rose and lit up the beach with it’s warm glow. Jim couldn’t help it-maybe he was romanticizing things, but he really didn’t care. He’d watched her all day like watching a movie-just taking in her small movements, fascinated by anything and everything she did.

Their boards were much too close for them to be properly waiting for any waves, but they were floating next to each other, intertwined fingers dipping into the water. He lifted them and kissed her palm. She leaned over meet his soft lips with hers and they just took each other in, every breath, every soft sigh until one of the other surfers told them to break it up or move somewhere where the swells sucked so they wouldn’t be hogging the good waves. They unwillingly parted, wanting to get just a few more sets in.

He did like watching her. From the start. But now she was his to watch.

Y/N cut through the water, impeccable balance, her hips shifting to accommodate the oncoming waves. He couldn’t help but appreciate her body in the skin tight, slick wetsuit. Could only be improved if she wasn’t wearing anything, or maybe just his denim jacket.

As fast as the sun rose and peaked, it started to set and the couple found themselves sprawled out on a blanket under the pier, the sand still warm under them.

“Stop it,” Y/N playfully chastised as Jim stole another piece of watermelon she was snacking on from the container.

“No,” he said simply and leaned over across the blanket to kiss her cheek. He looked out towards the water where the last of the surfers were coming in for the evening. “We could probably get one more set if…” he started but saw her sigh, a little conflicted. “But I’m exhausted, too.”

“I wish everyday could be like this,” she whispered longingly, knowing she was changing the topic but really unable to think of anything else. It was true, and her thoughts had kept returning to the fact that their day was perfect.

“Who says it can’t.” He looked to her, leaning back onto his elbows, long legs stretched in front of him. She mirrored him, sitting the same way while digging her toes into the sand. “One day, everyday will be like today,” he promised her.

He saw the tension in her face, her brows a little pulled. “Baby, what’s the matter?” he asked, a little nervous that he had taken it too far suggesting that they would share their days like this.

Maybe she wasn’t having the same ideas of a beach house and worn in surfboards and a dog and a few kids with another on the way….He had to cut himself off-knowing he was getting his hopes up for nothing. Who would ever want that with him. Nobody, his mind supplied.

Jim leaned over to her, propping himself up on one arm while the other went to rest on her thigh. She shook her head, trying to stop the negativity. Sometimes she couldn’t help it.

It was always on the best days she was reminded of her. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault-truly. It was just the idea that her sister would never have days like this. As good as this. She didn’t have any days, anymore.

By then, Jim knew what was happening. He saw the small changes in her. The pulling of her brows, the smallest frown gracing her lips. He always wanted to kiss it off-turn it into a smile.

It had only been a few years since Noel had died. Y/N mentioned to him once that it had been bone cancer, but he could tell that getting into specifics was too painful. It didn’t just ravage her sister’s body but it split her family- ruining everything they had tried to build. Their mother left shortly after Noel’s diagnosis, unable to cope. Her father became almost obsessive over Y/N’s safety and happiness until he, too decided to start distancing himself from her. Y/N had turned to pills and booze, granted in a much less spectacular fashion than Jim had. They had packed up and moved across the country to forget everything, just like everyone else in Palos Verdes, it seemed.

Jim didn’t know all the details and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It confirmed his beliefs that every family has its own brand of fucked up, however. Y/N and Jim were the same, caught in the crosshairs of a familial dysfunction far too gone to repair. And she, like him, didn’t like to talk about it. But with him she didn’t have to, she knew he understood.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head again, trying to clear it. “I shouldn’t be upset, I’m just-” She took a deep breath trying to steady herself. “I just wish she could be here, too. She’d love it here.”

Jim solemnly nodded, understanding but unable to process what it was like to lose a sibling. He couldn't imagine life without Medina.

“Don’t worry. You’re fine,” he mumbled, lips pressed to her cheek as he maneuvered himself closer to her, placing her in his lap.

She felt his toned arms circle around her and she was home.

“I’m sorry I get like this-I just have to spoil everything, don’t I?” She turned sideways, resting on his thighs.

“You have, in so circumstance...ever, spoiled anything. Ever,” he laughed trying to lighten the mood a little. “In fact, I think you make everything better.” Small tears started to leak from her eyes and he quickly leaned in to kiss them away, his lips brushing over her soft skin. “Baby, you always make everything better.”

He pulled away to look her in the eyes, her eyelashes still wet but the tears stopping.

Jim held her tighter, placing his lips on hers, moving slow-no need to rush. She was too pliant under his capable hands, turning to face him, thighs straddling him.

He hummed into her mouth and allowed his hands to slip lower, settling over her hips, while her wrapped around him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Shifting their weight, Jim managed to lay her back onto the blanket, her hair fanning out around her. He thought it looked like a halo-so fitting for someone he considered an actual angel. Her legs, still wrapped around him, pulled him down onto her to tease. Not being shy of playing her game, he ground his hips into her, hard. Going by the gasp she let out, he knew she could feel him hardening.

“Jim, I don’t know about this…” She turned her head to the side to see if anyone was looking at them. A beautiful red flushed her skin and Jim smiled. He turned his attention to laying love bites across her collarbone.

They were in a relatively secluded area under the pier and because it was nearing dusk, it was quiet. Jim continued to travel southward with his little open mouthed kisses, now getting sloppy as he licked over her hip, just above her bikini bottoms. “I don’t see anyone around,” he mumbled, still fascinated by the smooth skin under his tongue. That and the little shifts and twitches he was able to draw from her. “And I just really want you, babygirl.”

He knew he had her.

He slipped her bikini to the side dip his tongue into her, desperate for a taste. He hummed and the vibrations made her tighten her hands in his soft hair. He looked up to her from between her thighs, blue eyes gleaming mischievously. He couldn’t help smile into her dripping core, nuzzling his nose against her clit as his tongue continued lapping at her not wanting to miss a drop.

But his cock straining against his board shorts was becoming an issue. He wanted to bury himself in her. Pulling away from her, her wetness on his lips, he traveled up her body and took lips in his own. “You taste that? You’re sweeter than honey,” he said against her lips, unable to separate himself from her body for even a second.

“Jim,” she sighed. “Please, I’m-”

Before she would say anymore he had slipped himself out of his shorts and pressed his cock against her warm cunt. Fucking tease.

“Please, please, please,” she whispered against his mouth.

“That’s what I like to hear.” As a reward Jim pressed into her-slow. He knew he was holding back but her reactions were priceless. The little moans and gasps, her fluttering eyelids, her arms pulling him closer because all she really wanted was him closer.

“God,” She managed to choke out when he bottomed out. He watched her head loll back, exposing her neck where he sucked a few light bruises. He was soft, but she was still his.

He moved slow, taking his time watching her come undone. “Babe, I need more,” she moaned. Jim shook his head and kept the slow pace he had set. “We’re doing this right, me and you. Slow.”

“Fuck,” she resigned as he continued to rock into her. Y/N tilted her head up to meet him in the softest kisses, him gently lapping into her mouth while she swallowed his moans that were starting to get louder. Briefly, she thought about them getting caught but as the sun went down there were even fewer people around.

She could feel Jim’s pace falter, start to get faster, more rhythmic, despite him wanting to keep a tap on things. Their kisses were sloppy, not even completely on each other’s mouths, just searching for skin.

He was getting a little rougher, hands going to her ass and squeezing all the while he continued fucking into her. She knew he was close, but holding back, savor the moment- she was too.

“Babe, I gotta-”

“Me too. Fuck,” he groaned, a little too loud.

To her displeasure, but surprise, he slowed down and pulled back. He took a full moment to take her in, her swollen lips, wet. Her hair was starting to curl from being in the water and fanning around her, her legs wrapped around him, open for him. He smirked when he saw the tanline his favorite bikini made on her smooth skin. She was practically glowing. And he really just couldn’t believe that she was his. All his.

“Jimmy,” she said to break him out of his reverie.

In two more gentle thrusts he found himself spilling into her, all of his body weight pressing them together. He watched her as she came around him while he was filling her. Her eyes rolled back a little as she threw her head back, her chest rising, back arching off the sandy blanket.

“I love you.” It wasn’t what he had planned to say. But seeing her so blissed out, clenching around him, pulling him in, chanting his name like a goddamn prayer, her cunt milking him for everything he’s worth--he said it. Not going back, now.

“I love you, too, Jimmy. God I love you.” She came down from her high, waves still rolling over her, as she nuzzled into his neck, placing kisses.

They ended the night by stargazing, deciding to move out from under the pier. Y/N fell asleep on his chest, wearing his jacket, breathing in his scent.

Jim loved the stars-loved to look at them. But he really couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at her.

Really cool people that actually enjoy my garbage: @ccodyfern @langdonsdemon @coloursunlimited @thecinderellaposts @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonalien @tarkofetis @stupidocupido @katiekitty261 @ovarydosed @lovelykhaleesiii @starwlkers @aveiangdon @heelsamizayn @sojournmichael @oneday-i-will-fight-luke17 @tickled-pinkmoodpoisoning @codysfallenangels

Special thanks to @thecinderellaposts @michael-langdon-appreciation @starwlkers and @ccodyfern for putting up with me <3 

[thatfairyfangirl]

True Colors Chapter 6

A/N: Decided to go with Ultimates Dazzler here just cuz I wanted to include Halestorm in the playlist and all the remixes I found were garbagewater  http://marvel.com/universe/Dazzler_(Ultimate)

You sat locked up in your room, recording soft long notes from your violin as part of a labor of love of a song to submit to whatever record label willing to let her in the door. Readying the background of the track always took the most time, especially when it was just her providing just about everything...But she knew it would all be worth it once it was done and the vocals were layered in.

You let out a soft groan as the relentless chiming of your phone interrupted your creative flow. Reaching for it you swore to make whoever did this pay until you saw the name on the call ID, ‘Angel’. “I was in the middle of a song Warren.” You scolded with a half smile as you answered the phone. “This better be important.”

“Umm, very actually.” The voice on the other end paused for a moment, your old friend always hated asking your favors. “Have you heard about the party I’m putting together?”

“The mutant rights shindig? Yeah, and of course you can count on me to show up...Sugar Kane AND Dazzler? How can I stay away?” You smiled as you got up from the computer to flop on the bed to rummage your clothes to see if you could put together a rainbow themed costume...shouldn’t be hard.

“Oh you haven’t heard? Sugar Kane and Chamber broke up in a pretty bad way. Seems she’s been using the poor guy for publicity...She’s no friend to the mutants right cause.”

“Holy shit really?! That sucks! So obviously she’s off the bill for your show…”

“Yeah, and go figure after we convinced a network to air the show.” You could almost hear him scratching at the back of his head as he got to his point. “So being down a singer is a pretty big deal now...And I figured since you’re such a wonderful talent and you’re going to be there anyway…Maybe having an Avenger on the bill would be enough to keep the timeslot?”

You sat up seeing quite clearly where he was going with this. “Oh geeze Warren...Seriously?” Your room shimmered with your excitement. “You want ME to open for Dazzler?!”

“If you're willing, I know your life has been kinda turned upside down ever since you came out as a mutant.”

“THISISAMAZING!” You jumped as your smile grew to each ear. “Of course you can count on me!”

Warren could almost hear the kaleidoscope of neon colors you were emitting “Ok ok! I get it you’re in,” he chuckled, “Do you have enough pro-mutant positivity songs?”

“Warren...come on...who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

~ ~ ~ ~

A few weeks later the morning air held an autumn crisp to it as Bucky passed by windows filled with witches and bats on his morning jog...and around every corner the same flyer over and over, though he didn’t stop to read it...until he found one just like it on the fridge in the tower, stuck there by a rainbow magnet. “Mutant Rights Halloween Bash! Live Performances by Dazzler and Spectrum. Mutations are not required to attend but costumes are.”

Scribbled over the information was your handwriting, “I’m freaking out over this! Who can I count on to be there?” Bucky let a small smile dance across his lips as he read the flyer, taking note that it was tomorrow night, a little surprised he was actually feeling happy for you for finding a gig that wasn’t hosted by Tony. With a chuckle and a shake of his head he returned the flyer to the fridge before pulling out a water bottle, downing half of it before making his way down the hall, listening to your music getting louder as he got closer.  

“Hey,” he said softly as he poked his head into the open door of your room only to find a rainbow of hair sprawled out over your pillow, “what’s a Dazzler?” He added, obviously referring to the flyer that had been following him all over town. Without a word you reached for your mp3 player to toss to him, trusting that he’d catch it.

“Band with one of the greatest mutant singers of all time...that we know of. Was like a year shy of getting to work with her at Xavier’s”

“Wow...must be exciting for you…��� His brow rose, wondering if you had gotten sick or something.

“More like flat out terrifying.” You corrected as you picked yourself up. “Ali Blair is on a whole ‘nother level!”

“I’m sure one day a young mutant will say the same thing about you.” Bucky half smiled as he leaned against your door frame, finding it hard to look up at you when you were like this. “...I think that about you sometimes.” He admitted as he stared intently at the floor. You weren’t exactly sure why hearing that from him helped...but it did. His eyes wandered up to you for just a second as a reassured smile grew on your lips. “I was wondering if I could go too?” His left hand reached up scrunching his hair as he scratched at the back of his head. “I thought it was really something the way you put all those songs together like that...Can’t wait to hear more.”

“Umm, sure...but I’m probably going to be doing original stuff…” The question took the weight of the world off your shoulders...even with such good friends here he was the first to ask that. “And we’ll need to get you a costume…” You looked him up and down as a devilish grin grew on your lips as you bounced off the bed, returning to the former you that Bucky had grown so comfortable with. “Come on,” you half giggled as you grabbed his hand, spinning him around in the doorframe, “I have an idea!” He didn’t have any choice but to follow.

~ ~ ~ ~

“(Y/N) I don’t care that the tin man is something from my time...I’m still not wearing a funnel as a hat!” His face hung stagnant, one more remark about his arm away from abandoning the entire idea all together.

“Well then I just don’t know.” You huffed as you looked around Tony’s garage, surprised he wasn’t in here tinkering with something.

“Look Doll, I appreciate the help but I’m sure I can find my own costume...Thing is I was thinking maybe something to cover it up.” Afterall, there’s so few days out of the year he can get away with something like that.

A rainbow brow arched as you looked over him. “Why on earth would you want to do a thing like that?” You asked as you plopped yourself down on one of the stools that peppered the garage.

“Well, it scares people for one...and it’s more or less a constant reminder of all the things HYDRA made me do…” He trailed off as he fiddled with his fingers, his eyes darting between you and the floor.

“So you pick yourself up,” you stood, “dust yourself off,” rested a hand on his shoulder, “and start all over again.” You smiled as you watched the corners of his lips pull upwards, knowing full well you were intentionally quoting Swing Time. “All those things you did... you really need to start remembering they weren’t you.” You let out a sigh. “I can’t even imagine the kind of hell being a passenger in your own body would be...But I do know what life is like being stuck with a body you hate.”

Bucky’s brow arched as he gave you a disbelieving look. “Doll, I don’t think I’ve met anyone as proud of who they are as you are.”

“Yeah, sure, now...but it didn’t start out that way.” You let out a chuckle as you recalled your teenage self. “Bet you wouldn’t believe once upon a time I hated rainbows.”

“Then you got your power and it was so cool?” He knew that wasn’t the answer, but sometimes seeing you it sure felt that way.

“No, then I got my power and my hair turned to this….I spent a full year just trying to keep my hair the blonde it once was so I wouldn’t get in trouble at school!” You paused chuckling at old memories. “I even spent half an afternoon trying to bleach my hair…” You flipped your head downward, letting the rainbow cascade around you before pulling back the strands revealing damaged scarred skin underneath. “If you look you can still see the scars from the chemical burns on my scalp.” You flipped your head back up. “That was about when mom agreed to send me to Xavier’s...from which I tried to run away...twice.”

“Wow Doll, I never knew…” He trailed off simply amazed before looking you up and down, covered in every color from head to toe just as he always knew you. “So what changed your mind?”

“I realized that you can’t really be who you are meant to be until you accept the things that make you who you are.” You answered as you picked up one of Tony’s discarded Ironman arms. “And that’s the whole point of this party.” You added with a smirk as you playfully hit the arm against Bucky. “No one should feel like they need to hide who they are!” Bucky’s lips tugged upward as he let your words settle in deeply...he couldn’t change who he was now, this arm was part of him whether he wanted it or not...maybe it was time he let it.  

“Hey…” He more breathed the word than spoke it, “I think I have an idea.” He reached out for the arm. “Can I see that?” He asked with a boyish smile like you’ve never seen on him before. The once deadly assassin actually looked innocent as he held his hand out for it. “Please?” With a shrug you handed it to him, watching as he slipped it on, his smile growing. “How about I go as Ironman?” Though you both tried you just couldn’t hold a straight face.

“That is the BEST idea!” You exclaimed through the laughter. “You know Tony’ll hate it.” You added, the thought of his face driving you both to only laugh all the harder.

~ ~ ~ ~

Later that night Bucky tossed and turned in a cold sweat, his subconscious berating him over all the horrible things he had done, tormenting him with the memories of the pain both physical and mental as his body was made into a puppet. He may no longer be the fist of HYDRA but that dark dominating force was in there deep down and it loved to remind him that there was no getting rid of it, only suppress it...and even then all it took was ten words to bring it back. His eyes snapped open as he screamed out, sitting up under his sheets he looked down to the twist of metal and flesh of his scar that made him who he was now. He looked on it with disgust, reminding himself that he hated what HYDRA made him into as he felt his heart rate return back to normal, forcing his mind to remember that he was the one in control, Bucky, and no one else.

By now you had grown used to the screams, on a normal night you’d be able to sleep through it, but his night terrors weren’t what was keeping you up tonight. For the first time in years you felt the flapping of butterfly wings against your stomach as you began to over analyze the song list you had turned into Warren days ago...was it good enough? Were you really good enough for this? What would happen after? Would Ali Blaire like it? Worry and fret raced through your mind keeping sleep far from you.

To push it from your mind you did the only thing you could think of; hopping off your bed you hooked your microphone to the computer and pulled up your recording program...hopefully the sound of Bucky sleeping wouldn’t be picked up. Time to finish that labor of love. You added the guitar to the track last week, now all that was left was your voice.

Bucky’s panting breath slowed as the music drifted from your room into his, the most lovely rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow he’s heard since Judy Garland soothing him as he climbed from the bed to follow the sounds to you. He watched you for a moment, amazed as he leaned his nearly bare frame against your always open door. “You have an audience,” he warned, having learned from the last time he startled you.

“Oh! Buck! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You looked up from your still recording program with remorseful eyes, making note of how the dim lights of the hall caught the metal of his arm and gave his muscles a heavenly shine. It’s amazing that when you dislike someone on a personal level your mind blocks out all the beauty in their outward appearance, but as he slowly grew on you you began to see little hints of a beautiful man before you.

His dark hair still glistening with sweat clung to his face as he shook his head. “It wasn’t you that woke me.” His eyes drifted down to his prosthetic hand as the fingers curled open and closed, as if he was telling himself that it’s his arm. “But you won’t hear any complaints out of me about you singing Doll.” One corner of his lips pulled upward in a surprisingly charming smile. “What about you? You have that big show tomorrow.”

You let out a sigh as you hit the button to stop the recording before standing to stretch out, hints of your colorful tattoos peeking out from under your shirt as the hem rose just high enough to show off your skin. “I guess neither one of us are meant to sleep tonight. Honestly I don’t know what’s up with me. I haven’t had stage fright since I was umm...five.”

“Well seems like this is a pretty big deal for you.” He watched as you sat on the edge of your bed, hesitating a moment before joining you, feeling like it was just the right thing to do.

“Huge deal actually.” You muttered as your head came to rest on the metal of his shoulder. He watched you gravitate to it, amazed that you found it at all comfortable. But it was...it was cool against your skin, the whirring of the gears and robotics inside playing a soothing lullaby calming all your nerves...it was just what you needed. “Have you ever known that you were about to meet your idol? It’s exciting and terrifying and…” you trailed off with a huff as Bucky’s cool eyes looked around your room, for the first time finding himself on this side of the threshold, studying the pictures on your wall of friends and family, making note of the posters.

“Yeah, I have… But it’s not so bad if you remind yourself that she’s just a person like everyone else.” Smooth cool metallic fingers rubbed your forearm comfortingly.

“So who was it for you?” You asked with a half smile, finding that despite yourself you felt a little better in the strength of his arm.

“Honestly,” he paused giving you a comforting glace, “you.” Your brow arched in disbelief as you looked up to him, searching for the joke behind this. With a chuckle he tightened his metallic grip on you just a bit. “Really...Those songs of yours always seem to help when I have one of those dreams.” Your eyes widened hearing this, to think of your music doing good for someone the way that Ali’s did for you...and just like that all the worry seemed to fade.

You slid out of his arm as you stood, turning an outstretched hand to him. “Come on Buck, lets get you back to bed.” Unlike your cluttered mess of a room Bucky’s was extremely minimalistic, only the essentials, though you did take note of the backpack stuffed with notebooks by his bed. Your fingers brushed against his long hair lightly, discovering how soft it was as Over The Rainbow lulled him off into a more peaceful dream.

Tag List:

@sillydecoy​

Announcement from the writer:

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[dammntwilightsaga]

The Wolf and His Angel

By @dammntwilightsaga 

Here’s a long chapter, I am finishing up your amazing requests! Tell me how you like it so far please! :)

Slight immanency (No actual sex or anything just some slight touchy feely lmao) 

Chapter 3: Loose Ends

The sun peaked through the blinds and curtains letting its rays hit my face waking me up from my deep slumber. I sat up and stretched and felt slightly cold, which confused me, I turned around not sending my lover but a note in his place. 

Good morning my angel Myself and the pack went to go grab Jacob, I’ll be pack as soon as I can. Emily is waiting for you at her place like always she has breakfast. I love you -Paul

I smiled seeing his slightly sloppy handwriting and pushed myself out of bed as I stretched once again walking towards the closet that Paul and I shared in an oversize shirt and my panties I put on after my shower last night.

“Ehh not today.” I said as I pushed past the tight gray v-neck shirt that hung and continued skimming through what seemed the endless clothes I’ve collected over the years

“You seem like a good choice.” I mumbled as I pulled out the red long sleeved shirt with cut out shoulders.

I put the shirt on the non-made bed and walked over the the dresser and opened the drawer full of jeans and pulled a light washed pair out and threw them on the bed next to the shirt and then walked into the bathroom that was connected to our room and began to brush my teeth then I pulled my hairbrush out of the drawer and began brushing my hair and then let the long straight blonde locks flow down my back naturally.

I exited the bathroom and walked up to the clothes that laid on the bed and pulled the skinny jeans on my legs and then peeled my night shirt off and replaced it with the red top. I walked over to my dresser again and pulled out a pair of socks then bound my way down the stairs, pulling on my dark brown boots then grabbing an apple out of the bowl in the kitchen as I exited the house I began my walk towards Sam and Emily’s as it was only a short walk down the street to their house.

“Good morning Emily. It smells good in here as always.” I smiled as I walked through the open door and saw my best friend mixing something in her kitchen, her head whipping up then her face turned into a smile upon seeing me.

“G’morning to you too Rosalynn and thank you.” Emily stopped and came over to me with open arms which I accepted and hugged her back avoiding letting the apple get in her jet black hair.

“How’s it going?” I asked as we pulled away, Emily returning to her mixing and I took a seat at one of the mix-match chairs facing her.

“Great, Sam and I are coming along on our wedding plans.” Emily said smiling wider when she said Sam’s name, I continued to eat my apple at the table.

“Really? Did you guys pick a flower?” I asked excited, getting up and throwing the apple core in the garbage. Being around 4, now 5 due to Jacob finally phasing, constantly had its ups and downs; a down included not having ‘girl talk’ as often as it sometimes felt needed with Emily and I.

“Yeah, we did. Peruvian Lilies” She said I sat back down, tucking one leg under the other letting the one swing, as she pulled the muffin tin in the oven, so that’s what was making the room smell so delicious and inviting.

“Sam knows what those are?” I teased, giggling a little as Emily set up a plate full of muffins.

“Probably just going with it, honestly.” My best friend laughed back as she set the plate on the table, “You might want to eat one before the pack gets back, you of all people know how they are.” she returned to the kitchen, filling another muffin tin.

“How long have they been gone?” I asked, picking up a muffin and began picking at it, enjoying its warmth and flavor.

“Umm” Emily looked at the clock, “About an hour and half now, where could they be?” She wondered out loud.

“Jacob doesn’t live that far, does he?” I asked and she shook her head no.

I tried to focus on hearing one or several of the boys’ voices in my head and I did.

Sam. He could’ve gotten us hunted by telling that little Leech-lov

Watch what you say about her.

You didn’t imprint on her

After several minutes of silence, Sam was most likely talking (more like scolding) to the two wolves then Paul’s sarcastic laugh broke out

I ain’t gonna apologize but I will admit you can phase on the spot and I’m impressed

I’m not gonna apologize either but you can put up a good fight.

The voices of Paul and Jacob stopped talking, most likely shifting back.

“I can only hear Paul’s and Jacob’s, I don’t know where the othe-”

As if on cue, the roar of an engine arrived and the whistling and talking came from Jared and Embry.

“Well there’s 2 of 5″ I mumbled then hearing a girl talk, confused, I looked at Emily but she didn’t seem to realize it as she pulled the other tin of muffins out of the over and beginning placing them on the table as the two boys walked in.

“You boys hungry?” Emily asked as the boys bounded up the 2 porch stairs and into the home.

“I could’ve answered that one for you.” I laughed and continued to munch on my muffin.

“Whatever.” Embry pushed on my arm and I pushed him back just as rough, Emily turned to around to place the muffins on the table when she stopped then asked

“Who’s this?” I looked up from the table and towards the door seeing Bella standing at the door, I leaned back in my chair and put my one leg on an empty chair and looked at her.

“It’s Bella Swan, who else?” I saw as Bella pulled herself from looking at Emily’s scarred up face to look around the room, her eyes landing on mine.

“Yo-you’re the one I saw in the field. The one who ha-”

“The one with wings. Yes.” I cut her off, “I’m Rosalynn. Guardian Angel at your service” I acted to tip my imaginary hat toward her.

“So that makes you the wolf girl?” Bella carefully questioned Emily, as she placed the plate on the table between the two boys.

“Well since I’m engaged to one I guess so.” Emily laughed slightly, “Save some for your brothers. Plus Ladies first.” Emily pushed at the two boy’s backs. “Muffin, vampire girl?” She teased back.

“Sure, thanks.” Bella said and stepped forward taking a muffin off the platter and retreating towards the steps.

“So you’re really a guardian angel?” Bella awkwardly asked me

“I don’t know, do vampires and werewolves exist?” I smugly said and Bella just awkwardly laughed.

“You know, you can leave it to Jacob to find a way around Sam’s gag order.” My best friend as she turned around to start cleaning the kitchen up.

“He actually didn’t say anything to me.” Bella awkwardly stated, I took her in more. She seemed extremely reserved. The type of person who’d rather stay to themselves than go out shopping with her friends.

“It’s a wolf thing. Alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want them to or not.” Embry stated, “Oh and get this. We can hear each others thoughts.” 

“Would you shut up!” Jared yelled at his brother and I laughed watching the normal interaction. “These are trade secrets! Dammit! This chick runs with vampires!” Jared finished using his muffin as a pointer.

“You can’t run with vampires. ‘Cause they’re fast.” Bella said and I lost. I began laughing hard, she has so much to learn.

“Bella. I’m even faster than vampires.” I continued laughing 

“Freaked out yet?” Embry spoke up again and I raised my eyebrows at the dark haired girl.

“You’re not the first monsters I’ve met.” Bella stumped out

“We’re the best ones though.” I mumbled lowly so only Embry and Jared could hear me and they chuckled out.

“Jake’s right. You’re good with weird.” Sam’s deep voice said as he walked in and went right over to Emily, no one said a word as they enjoyed their little moment of happiness in each other arms.

Paul and Jacob came in bumping and pushing each other playfully, easily getting over the fight they said and became brotherly once again. Jacob stood at the door as Paul walked over to where I was. He stood above me and leaned down to kiss me deeply. Fireworks hit my once again like they always do with him.

“I’m sorry you woke up alone.” He mumbled to me as he withdrew from the kiss 

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.” I said back as he pulled the chair next to me out, lifting my leg off of it, sitting down and placing them on top of his lap, running his hand up and down my leg.

“Sorry.” Paul said as he turned and faced Bella for a split second then turned his attention to the still warm muffins on the table.

“Did you sleep okay, gorgeous?” Paul turned his attention back to me while he ate his muffin.

I nodded my head and placed my hand on the back of his neck, scratching it lightly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bella and Jacob leave.

“Emily said you guys were gone for a long time, what happened?” I questioned as he leaned into my touch.

“We were going to get Jacob and that little leech lover showed up, blaming us for everything, she pushed Sam, slapped me and I lost it, phased then Jacob came out to protect her and we got in a fight. Not serious at all.” Paul shrugged 

“Why does it seem like Jacob is being a better at guarding than me?” I laughed at my own joke.

“No one is better than you, my angel.” Paul kissed my forehead, I laughed lightly and pushed him away by his naked chest.

“You said you got into a fight? Are you okay?” I asked concerned for the love of my life.

“I always am.” He gave me his famous smirk then continued to eat.

“Has Jacob told her anything?” I asked no one in particular, “Well before this hot-head lost his temper.” I nudged Paul’s arm, teasing him.

“No. That’s what he’s doing now probably.” Jared said from next to me.

“You know, I’m kinda shocked she couldn’t figure it out. Jacob wasn’t exactly secretive about it.” I said annoyed.

“Well. Since Paul over here can’t handle his anger without you around he phased because she slapped him for laughing.” Embry said.

“Watch it there buddy or your next.” Paul growled out at his brother

“You better watch it.” Sam grunted out, “I don’t need more fights or a broken home.” Sam was behind Emily, his hands on either side of her body as she cut up vegetables as she began making more food.

<<>>

It was just getting dark out when Jacob came back. Paul sat on a chair in the living room and I sat in his lap, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh. Embry laid on the couch, taking it up entirely, as we watched TV absentmindedly. Sam and Emily were in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and Jared was on patrol.

“We have a problem.” Jacob announced pulling all of our attention to him.

“What is it, Jacob?” Sam asked, I could feel his concern.

“That red-head we’ve been chasing to the boarder over and over, is after Bella as well as Rosalynn.” Jacob said nervously, something felt off about this emotions to me.

“What.” Paul demanded, “You’re kidding me.” Paul stood up taking me in his arms then setting me down onto my feet.

“Paul.” Sam silenced him. “What do you mean she’s after Rosalynn and Bella? What do either of them have to do with her?” Sam asked Jacob just as confused as the rest of us.

“Her name is Victoria and she’s going after mates.” Jacob explained

“She’s never even gotten at look at my face, let alone figure out who I am to Paul.” I stated angry.

“I don’t know. I’m just repeating what Bella told me. They’ve apparently had a run in with them before.” Jacob stated.

“He was apart of the vampire with dreadlocks’ coven before her mate died. That’s probably who I saw when we found in her the woods the other day.” I said to the group. Everything seemed to make some type of sense but some things just were not adding up like how she knew who I was and how Paul and I were mates and that La Push was even my home.

“We’ll figure this out in the morning. Right now it’s getting late and you all need sleep, God only knows what’s coming our way. Embry, while on patrol watch Paul and Rosaylnn’s home. We can’t afford anything.” Sam instructed and we all followed as instructed.

“Let’s go home.” Paul snarled out, obviously mad at the situation and the red-head vampire.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Emily said as she came to hug me.

“Yep. Sleep well.” I smiled at her as we pulled away from our hug then Paul and I made our way out the door after saying our goodbyes and down the street to our little home.

“I didn’t realized how tired I was till we started walking.” I laughed lightly, kicking off my boot by the door and then began my way towards the stairs, Paul right on my trail.

“Least you didn’t get into a dog fight.” Paul joked back.

“That was your fault, dork!” I retaliated as we entered our room.

“Nah.” My imprinter laid himself out on the bed as I began to start stripping my clothes off and putting my clothes into the hamper by the door of the bathroom, getting ready to get in the shower.

“But I don’t mind this show.” Paul bit his lip, watching me.

“Stop.” I smiled and threw my shirt at him instead of the hamper and then unclasped my bra.

“You can’t blame a guy when you’ve got a great body like that.” Paul breathed out as he got up and came up behind wrapping his arms around my torso, his large frame seeming to swallow mine.

“Paul I want to shower and go to bed.” I almost mewled out as I rolled my head back onto his shoulder as his large rough hands came up and grabbed at my breast.

“Paul please. I’m too tired.” I said grabbing his wrist.

“As you wish my angel. Go shower, your personal heater will be waiting for you after you’re done.” Paul said between the peppering of kisses he was placing on my neck.

“I can’t wait.” I said as I left his warmth and got into the shower, washing the worries of the day away and then pulling on a sleep shirt and panties and curling up to my lover’s warmth under the covers, falling into a restful sleep.

<<>>

“Angel. Wake up.” Paul nudged me out of my sleep.

“What time is it?” I growled out, hating the fact that I was awoken from my peaceful sleep.

“Almost 7.” Paul was rubbing my back soothingly, “There’s another vampire on the territory, I’m going to help the pack.”

“I’m coming with then.” I sat up and stretched.

“No.” he growled at me, “it could be that red-head again and I’m not risking her getting ahold of you.”

“Love.” I started turning in the bed to face him, placing one hand on his face, looking into his gorgeous eyes, “My job is to protect you and the pack. I’ll be okay.” I got out of bed as did Paul.

“No. I cant risk losing you.” He looked truly concerned, I also felt it.

“Well I don’t want to be a sitting duck. I’d be safer with you anyways.” I said and pulled on jeans and a tight gray shirt.

“Fine. Don’t leave my sight though.” Paul kissed my forehead, he already had his normal jean shorts on.

“I usually don’t. I don’t like it anyways.” I smiled as we walked down the stairs.

On our way out the door I pulled on black, to the knees boots and a brown leather jacket and walked out the door behind Paul, who began shifting already.

“Let’s go Wolfie.” I smirked over at him as he shook his wolf head and let me take the lead as we ran side by side, quickly finding the pack.

<<>>

She’s in the trees! Jacob said

She’s like stalking them. Jared chimed in

No one expose yourself to any of them besides Harry. They’ll probably shoot you. Sam stated

I stood next to Paul as we tried to stay out of the view of the hunting group, we’ve chased the red-head for miles now, just barely getting a hold of her.

She was close to the group, it seemed she was looking for someone. I glanced over to Harry as he used his foot to cover something up, I figured it was a paw print from one of the members as we’ve ran threw her countless times.

That’s when everything seemed to go into slow motion. Victoria appeared behind the Chief and Harry rose his gun and then she quickly came in front of him and grabbed him, lifting him off the ground and staring at him. 

Whatever came over me made me lunged myself towards the vampire and side tackled her, making her drop Harry and we tumbled down the side of the foothill. On our way down a stray branch sticking up from a fallen tree cut deep into my side, just above my hip, causing the deep red, nearly black blood start to come out from the 4 inch long cut. Victoria stared at the cut, I could sense her confusion on why it didn’t smell or look like human blood and why she wasn’t wanting to rip me apart and drink from my body like she usually does with blood. 

Weird, if she knew I was Paul’s mate, wouldn’t she have known I was an angel? There were lose ends that needed explaining.

My thoughts were pushed to the side as she attempted to make the first move and launch at me before Paul came out of nowhere and bit down onto her shoulder but she reacted quickly and punched him in the shoulder, making him whimper out and release her. She got to her feet and began running, the pack on her trail. I ran up to Paul, ignoring the pain in my side.

“Are you okay?” I asked as he stood up and shook it off.

Yeah, You okay?

“I will be. Let’s go.” I said and started running before Paul could protest. We caught up to the pack in no time when out of no where we reached the edge of the woods and Victoria jumped off the cliff.

“Dammit.” I said out loud, clutching my side once again, one downside to my abilities is that some wounds, mainly cuts, didn’t heal as fast as others but they always would heal within 12 hours, tops. 

Are you okay? Jared asked

Dammit Rosalynn. What happened? Paul demanded not fully reasoning how bad it was till now.

“A stick got me after I tackled her, I’ll be okay in a couple hours.” I said as everyone but Jacob began to go back home.

Do you need us to get ahold of Sue? Sam asked.

“No. I just need some rest. I’ll be fine.” I was walking next to Paul, leaning slightly on him.

Paul shifted back and quickly picked me up.

“You’re not walking though.” Paul grunted out, totally ignoring the fact that he was walking naked thru the forest surrounded by other wolves who were his brothers. 

When we arrived back to our home, Paul walked right upstairs and laid me down on our bed then disappearing into our hallway closet, grabbing some gauze and tape and came back to patch me up.

“Paul. I’ll be fully healed in a couple of hours, stop worrying.” I said as Paul ignored me and continued placing the bandage on my wound.

After he finished up he kissed my forehead and laid next to me draping his arm onto my lower hips, avoiding the cut.

Several hours passed, I was quickly regaining energy and the wound was healing itself but something felt wrong so I sat up which made Paul start to worry.

“What is it?” He knew that I felt something was off.

“Something’s not right. Call Sam, make sure everyone is okay.”

As if on cue our phone began ringing and Paul nearly jumped out of bed to answer it, it wasn’t even on its third ring cycle.

“Hello?” Paul asked and there a few moments of silence before he spoke again.

“Thanks. I’ll let her know. See ya.” Paul hung up the phone and looked at me.

“Who was it?” I asked

“Sam.” Paul stared at the ground, “Harry passed away. Cardiac arrest.” Paul got back into the bed with me pulling me towards him and burying his head into my neck and I held onto him, shocked and upset myself.

“I think Seth shifted.” I thought out loud, “And maybe Leah too.” 

I hope you enjoyed, I am finishing up request right now, send me more!! :)

P.s I did not proof read this so I am sorry

[lyssala]

Day 1: Arguing

Pairing: Cindy/Prompto, Final Fantasy XV

Rating: T

Warning: Language

Words: 2961

Setting: Post Series, Hammerhead

Notes: I’m super excited this week was a thing! What a great way to support pairings that don’t get a lot of attention ^^ I can’t do every day but I wanted to do some at least. These are all post series fics because I find a lot of enjoyment in exploring how their lives would be and how they’d change over the years. These are in no chronological order, tomorrow’s fic takes place before this one does haha but I’m excited to participate and to see what others bring to the week!

AO3

Rain

Prompto didn’t really mind taking longer hunts. Sometimes it was nice to feel like he could get away from the world for a little bit, well, when he wasn’t fighting for his life in a variety of ways. There were a lot of unpleasant beasts that lived up in the mountains and quite a few embarrassing instances he’d probably never repeat to anyone. Ever.

Sometimes Iris or one or more of the other hunters would come with him depending on where he was going. Sometimes when they were around Ignis or Gladio or both would come with him to catch up, for old times’ sake. Yeah, traveling out here wasn’t too terribly bad. Prompto liked it well enough, but the areas surrounding Hammerhead were his home for over ten years; he was kinda partial to them now.

Until the sky opened up and started to downpour nonstop on him.

It was blue skies, a warm breeze, nice sunshine beaming down and then all of a sudden he could barely see in front of him it was raining so hard. Yeah, thanks for that one, Mother Nature. Normally he’d pack up whatever he had to and make a run for wherever he left the car but of course, of course once he got everything in the car and finally got out of the rain, the car wouldn’t start. Oh, and his phone died so there was no way to call Hammerhead to have someone come and get him.

One middle finger after another. He distinctly remembered beating his head against the steering wheel a few times before heaving a sigh so dramatic it was probably childish. Prompto didn’t really have much choice but wait in the car till the rain stopped which could be anywhere from five minutes to five hours. He opened the car door and stepped back out into the rain; he might’ve slammed the car door a little too hard.

So he found himself making the way back to Hammerhead in the pouring rain. It was okay for a few minutes, but after a while he wondered if his clothes would ever be truly dry again. Also wet jeans that stuck to his legs worse than usual was pretty terrible; as were wet socks in boots. His hair was soaked down against his head, bangs constantly dripping in his face, water down the back of his neck. He supposed the only good thing was it wasn’t too cold out but it didn’t change the fact that even his underwear was wet (which, yes, was also terribly uncomfortable).

He tried to rub his gloved hands over his arms to warm up his skin that was starting to get a chill but nothing seemed to help; especially not those assholes who saw him walking in the rain and just kept driving along the road. Though at least then he got to give some middle fingers of his own.

By the time the sun started to go down he at least recognized the area he was walking in. The rain did lighten up but right now he’d need to sit under a sun lamp for hours to dry out. All he wanted to do was go to the trailer, get under actual warm water, and go to bed. That was it. He was cold, his legs were chaffed thanks to walking in wet jeans, he was tired of being wet, he was tired of walking.

Prompto nearly groaned in relief when he finally saw the lights of Hammerhead coming up on the road. The rain had dulled to a light drizzle, and he had no idea how far he actually walked from the car but the sight of home made him jog across the street and into the familiar service station. It was usually dry and dusty, but right now it looked like a mud pit, which was probably why no one was hanging around. He made a beeline for the trailer. There were a few lights on in handful of the buildings, a few other trailers, including the lights in Cindy’s garage but he’d see them tomorrow. Well, if he woke up for tomorrow.

He had his hand on the door when he heard a crash from the garage. Prompto looked over but he couldn’t see anything from where he was. If it was Cindy, he was sure she was fine; nothing could get that girl down. There were no other sounds, just the light rain hitting the various tin roofs. She was fine, she could take care of herself.

“Shit,” he grunted, dropping his hand from the handle and walking over to the garage. Really, she’d probably just tell him to leave, that she was busy but he couldn’t just go inside and not make sure she was okay first.

The garage was actually a sight for sore eyes. He couldn’t quite remember how long he had been away this time, maybe a week? He spent a lot of his free time in here; reading or tinkering with weapons, taking pictures when Cindy wasn’t looking. Sure, he had other friends who hung around Hammerhead, but what could he say? After all these years he was still a sucker for the blonde mechanic.  

Even though he was still soaking wet and cold, it was a comfort to smell the oil, see the familiar tools, benches, and of course the girl who was hunched over the front of a car. Okay, maybe he felt a little bit warmer now.

Cindy looked the same as she always did these days. Her curly hair she started to grow out a few years ago was pulled back in a hasty ponytail, white tank top covered in grease and oil, frayed shorts partly covered by her tool belt. She wasn’t wearing any protective covering on her legs which was a little unusual but what was even more so was the string of curses that fell from her lips when a tool fell out of her ungloved hands.

Prompto’s forehead furrowed as he walked into the garage. Cindy was typically pretty laid back about everything, nothing really ever annoyed her but she was sure looking annoyed as she reached down to grab the wrench off the cement. Her attire might’ve been unusual for a mechanic at first glance but she also always took care to wear leather to cover her legs and hands to prevent burns or injury.

He must’ve made enough noise (probably his wet clothes sloshing together, gross) walking in because she looked up and his stomach promptly sank; her eyes which were normally focused and bright where downcast, like she was upset, sad, something not good.

“What’s wrong, Cind?” he tried to take a few steps forward but she turned to face him fully, with one hand on her hip and the other pointing the wrench at him.

Oh.

Prompto tried not to cringe when he realized it was him was mad at, though for what reason he wasn’t quite sure; he hadn’t even been here for a few days.  He still put his hands up in defense, she was the one with the wrench not him.

“Where’ve you been?” she said. Her voice was a little hoarse though her accent was coming out a little thicker than usual as it did when she was upset.

Really, it wasn’t even the first time he had seen her like this; it’s not like he didn’t do his fair share of stupid things over the years. It was just this time he couldn’t figure out what he did, or what he did before he left. He knew he told her where he was going cause Prompto knew she liked to know, so it couldn’t have been that.

“Cindy, I know I told you I was going on a hunt that would take a little longer than usual. I’d never just leave without letting you know.”

She watched him for a moment before jabbing the wrench in his direction. “Five days,” she said, tucking the wrench in her belt before moving over to one of the work benches by the wall. “You said you’d be back in five days. Do ya even know how long it’s been?”

He was admittedly a little confused now. Yeah, he remembered saying five days now that she said something but between the weather and actually finding what he was looking for he assumed it was a little over that but that wasn’t unusual. “Oh, um, I dunno, six?”

Cindy unbuckled her tool belt and dumped it on the work bench before she faced him again. “Eight. It’s been eight days.”

“Okay.” He still wasn’t quite getting the point. “I mean, I’m sorry it took longer but the mark was harder to find and then I got caught in the goddamn rain.” He gestured to himself as he was dripping on her garage floor. “And then…” Shit, he’d have to tell her about the car. Now she really was gonna kill him. He reached up to run a hand through his wet hair. “Okay, try not to murder me with a wrench just yet, but the car broke down and I had to walk all the way out here.”

“I called ya.” Cindy crossed her arms against her chest, leaning back against the work bench. “I called ya yesterday, today, nothin’.”

He wasn’t sure if he should fall into false safety at the fact that she didn’t mention the car that broke down at his hands (again). “Ah, yeah, sorry. My phone died and then my charger died. I had no way to call anyone. I can get one of the others to come with me to tow it tomorrow.”

He expected to get a stern talking to about taking care of her cars, maybe a little cold shoulder till he brought her coffee and breakfast in the morning to make her forget about it. It wasn’t the first time and it was very likely it wouldn’t be the last; he didn’t have the best luck with cars. What Prompto didn’t expect is for her eyes to start to look glossy, like she was about to cry.

He panicked. Nearly tripping over a tool box she left on the ground, he hurried over to where she was standing. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry, it’s okay, I promise.” He reached his hands out to her shoulders, though the leather on his fingerless gloves was probably still wet. “I didn’t drive it down a cliff, it just wouldn’t start. I probably left the lights on or something stupid.”

“I don’t care about the car, ya idiot.” Cindy reached the palm of her hand up one of her eyes. “I thought somethin’ happened to you.”

Prompto blinked at her, his fingers still pressed against her shoulders. It’s not like he didn’t think she cared about him. He had gotten his fair share of lectures when he ran off to probably do something dumb, the knowing looks whenever he came back injured leaving her to take care of him. He wouldn’t have stayed here for so long if he thought she didn’t give a damn about him at all. He stayed because he cared about her, and because for whatever reason she seemed to like him around. That didn’t mean he had ever seen her get emotional over him before though.

“Oh, you know me, Cind,” he said, patting her shoulders before letting his hands fall to his sides only reminding him he was still soaking wet and probably looked ridiculous. “I always bounce back, no need to worry.”

She laughed which was nice but then she reached up to hit him in the chest, which kinda hurt.

“Ow, hey, what was that for?”

Cindy didn’t quite look as upset anymore, but she still didn’t look as carefree as she usually did. Clearly there was something still bothering her. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve established that a long time ago.”

She snorted and for a moment he thought that was it. She wasn’t the type to delve too much into how she was feeling, so he figured she’d brush by him and tell him to get changed so he’d stop dragging water everywhere or didn’t get a cold or something. His heart nearly stopped when her hands reached up to his face, when she leaned in to kiss him.

He could feel callouses on her fingers against his skin but her lips were soft, gentle. Was he breathing? Did he remember how to breathe? The better question was probably was he dreaming? Goosebumps rose on his skin, he was cold but she was so warm. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to puller her closer, but he couldn’t even remember how to think let alone move.

Cindy started to move away from him, and it nearly made him groan at the loss of contact. It was quickly replaced with a sharp jolt of panic. Did he even remember to kiss her back?

Between his heart pounding in his ears and the string of curses in his head from his slow response he was surprised he actually could move. He reached over to grab her waist and leaned into kiss her with such a force he accidentally pushed her back into the work bench.

He winced and moved to apologize but he found that he couldn’t. Cindy was already moving her hands into his hair, pulling herself close as she kissed him.

She was kissing him. The girl he had been in love with God knew how many years now was kissing him. The wet clothes, the long hunt, the miserable morning didn’t matter at all anymore.

Her fingers against his head sent chills through his body. He ran his fingers down her hips until he reached the bare skin of her thighs. Cindy must’ve got the hint since she jumped into his grasp letting him put her up on the bench behind them. Prompto flattened his hands against her thighs, her fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck as he kissed her.

He didn’t know if he was dreaming again. It wouldn’t have been the first time really, but she was so real, so soft, so warm, and she was kissing him, she was actually kissing him.

Prompto leaned his forehead against hers, tilting his head down to be able to catch his breath and hell, catch up with his mind too. He didn’t even know what to say. Did he do it now? Tell her how he always felt? Or what if it didn’t mean the same thing to her? He found his heart couldn’t even sink at the thought; it was too far up in his throat.

“Hey.” She dropped her hands, one hitting him in the chest and the other under his chin, leading his face to look up to her green eyes, ones that looks so much brighter than before. “Don’t do that to me again. I dunno what I’d do without you.”

His breath caught in his throat as he watched her. There were a million things he wanted to say to her but only one came out (probably the best for his pride instead of just word vomiting at her). “Okay.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in to rest her head against his shoulder. At first he was a little unsure what to do (the theme for this afternoon apparently); he wasn’t used to her being so affectionate towards him but he went with what felt right. He put his arms around her lower back and leaned his head against hers.

She sighed. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” A smile pulled at his lips.

She was quiet for a moment but then she started to shake a little. For a panicked second he thought she was crying but before he could even ask if she was okay, Cindy sat up to look at him. Her face was a little red, and eyes a little watery but there was a huge grin on her lips.

“You’re soakin’ wet!” she exclaimed, clasping a hand over her mouth to try and hide her laughter, which while A for effort, didn’t stop it at all.

He snorted. “For gods sake, Cind, I’ve been trying to tell you that this whole time.”

She looked down at her own clothes, splotchy with wet patches from where she had pressed up against him. Cindy looked back up at him, still laughing like she had never seen him get caught in the rain before. “Why didn’t you get changed? You’re gonna get a cold.”

“I heard a noise in here, and I came to make sure you were okay, dummy.” Prompto reached up to tug at her ponytail which only made her laugh again.

He figured that was it, he missed his chance to tell her as per usual. She gave him this smile though, a different one; it was…nice, even though he was starting to feel the cold chills from his clothes once more, it made warmth spread in his chest. Cindy reached her hands up to his face again, leaning in to kiss him and he melted.

He realized as he kissed her back, pulling her back into him knowing full well he’d just get her clothes even more wet, that it wasn’t his missed chance. It was only the beginning of many chances.

[theflawedcharacter]

I saw galaxies in your eyes, but you couldn't find a single star in mine [open letter]

Rie,

There's so much I wanted to tell you. I just don't freaking know where to start. It's been weeks since the last time we saw each other. And the last convo we had on Messenger, I had the all platonic facade and acted like we didn't share any history. 

Frustrating. I couldn't think of any other term to describe it but that's how I felt. I wanted to burst out those stupid girly shit and profess this equally stupid emotion but I was—well, I was scared. Maybe because I already knew how it would end. You'd just seenzone the fuck out of my messages. Like what you always did.

I mean, do we have to get drunk again so we could talk with sense? We never had a solid sober conversations since that night. It's like we forgot how to used to be pre-landian moments. Ain't that awkward? Well, no shit. Imagine my predicament. I was the one who invested emotions and profited friendzone instead.

I'm not regretting anything, though. If I could get back to that night, I'd still tell you the truth. I'd still pour my heart out. I'd still make you realize that you could be loved, despite of your shortcomings.

Dunno if you were aware of our friends' reaction when they found out, but they were like, "How the fuck was this even possible?" I know, right? Yes, I'm dissing you, from head to toe. You're waaay too far from the standards I have. You're not an achiever, not a kickass artsy guy, not even good-looking. Why, of all people, you?

Why you? Because I have seen your soul. 

I've seen beyond that stupid weaboo getup you're sporting. I've seen more than just your crazy antics and your self-pitying habits. And I've accepted all of them along with the fact that it's too risky to bet my heart on you. But I still did. Because I thought you'd worth the risk.

Maybe it was a mistake to begin with. Dumb moron, whatever, but that's that. Like I said, I don't wanna regret anything, and I definitely don't wanna start now. It's just fucking annoying to bear this weight. How could you even shake this off? Gomenasai, I've been single for six years, I forgot how it felt like to be lovedrunk.

Did you know what I have been thinking while I was gathering my guts to tell you everything? That we complement each other. Remember the topics we used to argue about? All of those were healthy debates. We talked about aesthetics of life and death, of creation and destruction, of possibilities and theories. That's how I fell for you. That's how I began to see the galaxies in your eyes.

I couldn't help but think that you just took advantage of the situation. But that's not you. We've been friends for quite some time and you're not that kind of person. But then again, I was the one who made the first move by telling you I like you. And judging how you responded, it'll be shitty to reason out that you're "just a guy" that is why we came to this. Worst justification ever.

Why did you even kiss me? Held my hand for hours? Made me feel like I was important? Then, at the end, you'll say you're not ready for commitment? That you have to deal with your issues first? And then weeks later, you'll admit that you think I was imma-fucking-ture? That I was caught up with my mental health issues? That I've been glorifying my anxiety and depression?

I wanna get mad at you and stay mad. I wish that's possible because the moment I think about the stuff we argued about, I couldn't help but agree on most parts. Maybe you were right. I'm damaged af. But that doesn't mean I'm not putting up a fight.

The thing is, I believe you're just as scared as you've always been. You're scared to take chances. You're scared of responsibility. Looking at how much baggage I'm carrying, you immediately judged the weight. Your own burdens and mine—do the math and one could easily get overwhelmed. I believe that's what happened inside that overanalyzing brain of yours.

You see, that's the problem. You've seen the issues but you never considered that maybe, just maybe, I've already thought it through before telling you how I felt. That maybe I was willing to let go of my burdens so I could carry yours. Sounds sappy but that's the truth, Rie. Gago ka, e. Ikaw na nga minamahal, ayaw mo pa.

I guess that's how it really is. I'll just hold on to the idea that I don't deserve this kind of toxicity. That I'm worth more than just stupid reasons like "I'm not ready," and "There are questions I need to answer on my own first." Talk about melodrama.

I've been practicing myself to stop missing you, which is kinda hard when my system's basically inclined to checking your social media accounts on a daily basis. Moving on ain't easy. No, nothing's ever easy. I hope you understand that when I made the choice that night, I just couldn't get back to what we used to be. I'm sorry. I couldn't just un-fall after seeing the galaxies in your eyes. Regardless of the sad fact you couldn't find a single star in mine.

Tin 

06/18/2017

[wombathos]

1. “This will be the last time you lie to me.” Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers (BtVS); canon-divergence Enemies (S3E17), 4,6k words

When Faith burst out of the mansion, Buffy followed her.

She could hear Angel shouting after her - and going by the sound of footsteps pounding from behind, he tried to follow them. But maybe their head start was too much, perhaps it was Faith throwing him on the floor before sprinting out that did it, possibly two slayers running at full speed through the night was pretty hard for anyone to follow. Even for a vampire. Either way, she never saw him again that night.

“Give up!” yelled Faith over her shoulder, the last Buffy heard of her for a while. And Buffy nearly did, probably should have. This was a bad idea.

Why am I doing this?

As Buffy ran, breathing heavily with arms pumping furiously, tracking the blurry figure through the chilly night, she could barely hold on to a coherent thought. Certainly couldn’t explain to herself why she would possibly want to chase after Faith, with the sting of the knife to her throat still stinging and the ghost of the kiss to her forehead still haunting and the wind throwing itself against her as if begging her to turn around. Are you going to kill her? asked her mind with every heavy step on concrete, mud, grass, then concrete again.

You’re not ready.

That’s what I thought last time. And then…

Angel had lost them. And they were still running.

She had drawn closer to Faith and fallen away again and almost lost her as they moved into Sunnydale proper and started an increasingly elaborate game of hide and seek. Slayer lungs were certainly strong but they could burn too. And burn they did. As did the chill in her throat and the spots on her skin where Faith had marked her. And they didn’t slow down.

Buffy skidded into an alleyway, just able to see the back of Faith’s jacket before she disappeared around the corner, and threw herself into another sprint, straining her ears for any indication of where Faith went next, forcing her mind to recall any convenient hidey-holes she might jump into. When she rounded the next corner, she entered a tighter, narrow alley that was far away from what counted as a main street in Sunnydale. A dead end. Had Faith known that? Sound fell away entirely there, replaced only by the pungent smell of the bin bag spilling over onto the slick concrete. The windows were high on either side, with a dry cleaner facing out of the alley to the left and a shuttered building Buffy hadn’t recognised to the right. Not many lights were on, which might be because of how late it was, or, given the general state of disrepair, a sign of abandonment. This town was too small to have this many places left to rot.

“It’s just us now,” yelled Buffy into the night. She jerked around when something clattered against stone, but it was only a tin rolling out from the bin bag. A cloud passed and the moon reemerged, giving her just a little more light to work with. It barely helped.

Maybe Faith had gotten away already, clambered up the pipes and up over the rooftops. But Buffy had to believe she would have heard that. Faith wasn’t that stealthy.

She was being pretty stealthy right now, though. With the bins and a pile of old wood planks and darker, indistinct shapes further down the alley, there were certainly enough places for her to hide. Buffy felt at her jacket pocket, the familiar bulge of knife as well as stake. It made her shudder, the memory of seeing what that piece of wood with the force of a slayer behind it could do to a man’s chest. What it looked like when a stake did not just produce dust but left a body in its wake.

Would you do it?

Buffy’s fists clenched. Faith was bad, she had turned from them, was helping a monster and with her power could cause so much harm. But was she evil?

That was when the dropkick landed in her stomach.

It sent her flying back, her mind incapable of anything but confusion at where the hell Faith had come from and how she had been able to sneak up so far that she could take Buffy from the front - accompanied by the suspicion that Buffy had simply been an idiot, too distracted by her own qualms and misgivings to notice her. That too was all gone when her back hit stone, her head almost snapping back far enough to crunch against the wall. She was able to save her skull, but the impact still winded her, and it took her a second too long to recover so that when Faith’s fist hit the side of her face, she couldn’t do much to cushion it.

Buffy keeled over, barely having the wits about her to spin her legs around in a poor attempt to sweep Faith off her feet. While it didn’t work, it gave her the time to roll away behind Faith and get to her feet again, readying herself for what was to come. A wave of pain hit her, almost threatening to knock her over again. Her cheek, hit by a slayer. She should be used to pain by now but…

Buffy raised her fists to face her enemy, who had turned and half-snarled at her. They both panted with exhaustion, both seemed beyond speaking. Faith had lost her patience. Had taken her longer than Buffy would’ve thought. She had assumed Faith would be eagerly anticipating another round.

Faith, instead, seemed distinctly frustrated. When she sprung forward, she was easy enough to evade and off-balanced so that Buffy’s next kick could land. That made Faith angry, and her next blows came fast and hard. They tussled for a bit, the adrenaline still pounding through Buffy. But she had chased Faith so far, so hard, that it couldn’t last long.

Faith disengaged first, panting. And finally spoke. “You really don’t give up, huh, B?”

“No,” said Buffy, doing her best chirpy smile, “I hunt the baddies, remember?”

“Or you get all close and nasty with them,” said Faith, eyebrows raised all suggestive as she wiped her knuckles across her cheek. Behind them was that familiar half-smile, like Buffy hadn’t just uncovered the whole big lie and tricked Faith into revealing it herself. Like she hadn’t fooled Faith. Like she hadn’t beaten her.

Buffy lashed out again, fist curving around straight for Faith’s jaw, but the blow was easily deflected. Faith’s counter was just as easily dodged. This was a pretty poor showing all round.

It’s just been a long night.

They were a few feet apart again, now, slowly circling each other, fists half-raised as the wind howled in the distance. Sweat trickled down Buffy’s temples, the cloying smell of the alley making it harder to get the oxygen she dearly needed. Faith’s breaths came short and fast still, hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead, making her look wilder than ever.

“Come on then, you really want to take me now? You couldn’t earlier. Now there’s choices for you to make all over. Should’ve just let me go.”

“No.”

“Or you’ve decided to gut me? Preferred to do it when fang face wasn’t around? He’s seen way worse. Or you just don’t want him to see you like that?”

“No,” said Buffy, teeth gritting.

“You took so long to figure it out. Didn’t think you’d still be so trusting and all. What do they say? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…” A grin. “Well, shame on you. Want to make it a third?”

“No.”

“Really? Because I kinda want another go at it. I’d been thinking a lot about just how I’d tell you and I think I did a nice job of it, working with what I had when we hit showtime. But the way I was thinking, I’d have you alone, maybe in some cellar somewhere your ex-murder fling isn’t buried in, or in your house where you feel all safe. Yeah, get you in that fluffy bedroom of yours and chain you to the bedpost, make an evening of it.”

Buffy tilted her head to grin at Faith in turn, refusing to be rattled by whatever this was. “I knew you were a murdering psycho, but thanks for also letting me know you’re completely insane.”

“Hey, you’re the one who let herself be chained up.” Faith tugged at her lower lip and when the last tooth slid over it, back into place it snapped. This was when Buffy realised how close she had gotten. The few feet apart had turned into more like… two. “That’s practically begging for a redux.”

Buffy leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “It’ll never happen again.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never trust you.”

Faith’s smirk didn’t even twitch. “Is that a promise?”

“A promise,” she said with a terse nod. “No more games.”

“Everything’s a game.”

“You murdered someone.”

“I’d murder you.”

“Likewise.”

“Better watch out. The boytoy’s a better liar than you are.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Really? I’m worth so little even little miss perfect would do me in? Careful, B, you’ll become just like me yet.”

“That’s never going to happen. And you crossed a line.”

“Time to punish me,” murmured Faith, the grin as taunting as she’d ever seen it. “That’s the only thing you can do. Or let me go and I’ll show you just how many lines I can cross.”

“No. No more,” said Buffy, putting all the weight she could muster into the words. “This is as far as you go. This will be the last time you lie to me. Or trick me. You won’t hurt anyone else.” Not because I allowed…

“Or what?” Faith cocked her head to one side. “Or you take me out? We both know you’re not ready.”

“People tell me that a lot.”

“You talking vamp boy? Yeah, I guess you went for the kill there. But this is different. I’m all alive and human-y and souled-up.”

“That was harder than this.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I loved him.”

Faith’s expression froze, eyes fixated on Buffy for a way-too-long second before the corners of her lips curved up and she grinned. As she tilted her head, the light bounced off her eyes, making them give off a shimmer that almost mesmerised Buffy. She’d asked Giles about vamp-hypnosis way back when and he’d told her not to worry about that: only very old, very powerful vampires were meant to be capable of affecting the mind with just a look. Then the Master had frozen her in place in the horrible cave and she had learned to fear that loss of control, of no longer being able to make her muscles do what she wanted. Of helplessness.

Slayers didn’t have any hypno powers, however evil and murder-y and all round irritating they were. Well, Buffy certainly didn’t. Who knew about Faith. Who knew what Faith could do to her.

“If you don’t care, why not get it over with?” asked Faith, eyebrows crawling away from the eyes that held Buffy captive.

“I didn’t say I didn’t care,” she exclaimed, angry and knowing it was in her voice and face and all over her. Faith saw it, didn’t understand. As ever.

“Yeah, you care,” she said, nodding slowly, the grin turned sour. “You care because somebody didn’t play along with your pretty little act. I know I was meant to go perfect Buffy and kneel down in front of you and worship at your feet, praying you might deign to pet my head and tell me I’m doing a good job, while really just hoping you’d remember I’d exist, but I hate to break it -”

“I didn’t want that,” said Buffy, shaking her head. “You have no idea, you’re still -”

“But I hate to break it to you,” Faith repeated, louder, baring her teeth, “that we’re not all your little playthings. I didn’t get what I deserved. I didn’t get any of it. But you will. You’ll get what you deserve and in the end, you’ll be begging for mercy.”

“In your dreams.”

The teeth parted to allow for the tongue to slide across a taut upper lip. Buffy stared at it too long before finding Faith’s eyes again. “Not in yours too?” asked Faith and her voice did something funny then, and Faith was looking at her all suggesti- suggesting something and - get a grip, Buffy. This wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

Buffy shivered. The chill was getting to her.

She had to end this. But she was so angry.

“Why did you do this?” she yelled, raising her fist as Faith took an instinctive step back, seeming startled by the sudden fury. “I didn’t want you to kneel down,” she snarled, striking out as Faith ducked, “didn’t want you to worship me,” she growled, trying to get a knee into the stomach but being easily blocked, “didn’t want to pet your head,” she groaned, bringing her hands down from up high in an attempt to knock down Faith’s shoulders. She managed, but it wasn’t much use, and Faith was free to push Buffy away. Instead, after pulling her off, Faith pulled her back in again, grabbing fistfuls of her jacket in both hands and tearing them towards herself so that their noses were almost touching.

Buffy bared her teeth. “Tell me why you’re working with him,” she shouted, aware of the spittle flying from her lips and landing squarely on Faith’s face. “Tell me!”

“You already know,” snarled Faith in response.

Buffy ripped herself free and kicked at Faith’s side, so hard that it almost knocked Faith over. She straightened, looking at Buffy all angry and weary. Buffy leapt forwards again, punching Faith’s chin.

“Tell me!”

She tried to knee Faith again and it was successful this time, and as Buffy pushed Faith back a part of her brain was telling her that Faith wasn’t fighting back. Not really.

“Tell me!” she said, hitting at Faith’s chest. They were so close again and Buffy didn’t know how she felt, never knew how she felt except that she was angry and hurt and betrayed and it was all so confusing and -

She hit her chest again and Faith was barely responding, barely pretending to cushion the blow.

“Tell me why you hate me so much.”

“Because you don’t!”

Buffy stopped at that, briefly. Just long enough to stare in utter bewilderment at Faith. Then she grabbed at her arms and began shaking her in earnest as if she could shake the truth right out of Faith, the fury returning with a vengeance because Faith wasn’t making any sense.

“You want me to hate you?” yelled Buffy. “You want me to hate me so bad, like you do me? You’re doing a great job of it right now, why would you -”

“You don’t hate me,” said Faith through gritted teeth, eyes never leaving Buffy’s as she tensed up in Buffy’s grip. “You don’t, not like you hated him. You don’t.”

“It’s not a competition!”

“Everything is.”

“You’re insane, why - why would -”

“You don’t even know I exist!”

Once again Faith’s words stopped her in her tracks. She stared uncomprehendingly at Faith, who was so close now with Buffy’s hands on her arms, feeling the strained muscles even under the musty-smelling jacket, their chests almost touching as she could feel the heated breath bouncing off her chin, intermingling with her own. Of course she knew Faith existed, she could feel her see her and she was right there and… and she always saw Faith, at the beginning when everyone had been all wowed and then when she’d… been around… and the new watchers and training together and slaying together and when Faith had murdered someone and…

Buffy hadn’t ever paid that much attention though. Not like she was doing now.

She could gut me right now. Where was the knife?

This was Angel all over again, except Faith was very much human. Alive and breathing and… and how could Buffy be feeling this much again? It should be easier. Sure, Angel was all undead, but he was still Angel. Her Angel.

“You’d have to notice me to hate me,” said Faith, taking the protracted silence as a sign of confusion on Buffy’s part. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Buffy was already several steps ahead of her.

“Right now, I hate you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Faith. Then a pause. The wind and their heavy breathing was the only sounds here, the cars too distant to make much of an impression.

“You don’t care,” said Faith, face contorted but also hurt and why…

“I don’t think you get how angry I am.”

“I was never even in your little band. Not really. Not enough that you’d trust me with anything. So what does it matter?”

“You betrayed -”

“You didn’t trust me.”

She realised she was still holding on to Faith’s arms, which gave her the opportunity to shake her again. There was no resistance. “Listen to yourself! You killed someone and then you joined psycho mayor who wants to eat the whole town and you’re going all mopey because I wasn’t nice enough to you? Didn’t bring cookies around to your flat once a week?”

“I didn’t want that!”

“I’m sorry we didn’t know what was in your head and I’m sorry you didn’t feel included and I’m sorry about - about everything, but that’s no excuse! You blew it and now you’ve - you’ve joined forces with a monster and for what?”

“If I’m so hopeless, why are you still talking to me?” yelled Faith.

“I don’t know!” yelled Buffy back. “I guess I wanted to hold out hope for you! I guess I’m always the dumb idiot who wants to believe that there’s another way - but, hey, you got me. You tricked me. Well done.”

Faith did not look happy at all at this. Her gaze briefly dropped and Buffy realised she was still holding Faith and… well, no point in letting go now. They’d come pretty much to a standstill and it was odd, really, to know that right now either one of them could beat the other if they made the first move. But here they were just… yelling at each other.

“You don’t understand anything,” said Faith.

“I asked. I went to you. You never told me anything.”

“And now it’s too late.”

Buffy shook her head in disgust. “You don’t have to continue down this path. But hey, if you want to, then I guess we’ll fight again and again and I’ll have to stop you because you’ve decided to go all evil and -”

“I don’t wanna do this, I never -”

“Then don’t.”

“I can’t just…”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough to get her brain back into gear. Noticing the desperation in Faith’s eyes.

This isn’t Angel. Maybe she just needs a way out.

“You can. Whatever you’ve done, we’ll…” She stopped, gaze dropping to Faith’s jacket and the knife she knew was there. What would happen? Would she extend an offer and get a knife in her gut for her trouble? Was she damning herself right now?

Buffy took another deep breath. Looked back up at Faith, who was watching her, all tensed up as if ready to be pushed away. “Just tell me what you want, Faith. Just tell me.”

“Why are you still here?” asked Faith, a tense anger to her voice. “Why not just take me in, ship me to the Watcher’s Council? Or just kill me and get it over with?”

“I never wanted to do that,” said Buffy, then took the plunge. “And you were right. I can’t kill you.”

Faith stared at her, said nothing. She still looked angry.

“Please,” said Buffy, and had she really just said that? After everything Faith had done today… Faith had been ready to kill her and Angel and… This is your last chance - “Just tell me. I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Tough,” said Faith and grabbed at Buffy’s shoulders, weakly pushing her away. Her foot briefly slipped on wet concrete, but Buffy didn’t let go. God, she was tired. She was so tired and knew that Faith might kill her at any moment and… and that they were here again, like she’d been with Angel and she had never thought she’d feel that way again, like anything could possibly compare to that pain, but it had and this did and she just didn’t want to do this any more -

She could’ve given up. She could’ve let Faith go. She could be with Angel right now - Angel, who had pretended to lose his soul tonight and even though she’d known all along, it had still been so… so like that, so like losing grasp of it all again, of all she had slipping away and…

“Why do you hate me?” asked Buffy again. She stared straight into Faith’s eyes, who was still feebly struggling and looked just as tired as Buffy felt.

And Faith gave in. “I just - I just want you to care,” she whispered.

“Why?”

Faith leaned forwards to close the last few inches between them. Then she kissed Buffy.

Buffy’s brain stopped functioning as soon as she could feel what were definitely lips pressing against her. There was a pounding in her ears as the wet exterior of those lips dug between her own, the kiss deepening with Faith leaning in, and Buffy’s frozen hands still on Faith’s arms which were now moving to the cusp of her lower back and then lower, firmly squeezing so that she almost yelped - but all the while frozen, so that she continued staring right at Faith, whose eyes had briefly closed in apparent ecstasy but had opened again to carefully watch Buffy - no, not carefully, desperately, fearfully watch her, judging her reaction and as those hands pushed them further together it was almost like she was lying in wait so that if Buffy escaped she would -

What? What? What?

Her brain was still disfuntion-y and the tongue was all wet and the eyes were all dark and the air was hot and very cold at the same time and the wind was picking up again and what? What?

And she needed to do something but - oh god there was so much hair, so much dark hair all around her and god she’d thought about running a hand through that hair before, because there was so much and she had thought it’d be quite nice to feel how it felt like and yes, Faith was very close a lot of the time and she’d felt her hair against her own face before but this was very different and if Faith had turned evil then she never would’ve been able to feel that any more except if they were trying to kill each other and hadn’t Faith turned evil? Were they still doing that? What were they doing? And there was so much hair? Where had the tongue gone? Would Faith ever stop looking at her again? How could she do anything, how could she even attempt to move with those eyes looking at her? Where were those hands?

What?

This feels nice.

What am I… And a strong gust of wind hit them, blowing a lot of the brown hair into Buffy’s eyes. When she couldn’t see Faith’s eyes any more, it was like she briefly got back control over the part of her brain that actually did the motor functions. So that was something. She finally managed to push herself away from Faith and because Faith kept holding on to her, she had to do it roughly and…

And she pulled away, shocked and bewildered and with the taste of Faith on her lips, and there was Faith look at her, Faith who was breathing heavily and whose eyes carried a wildness and a desperation beyond anything Buffy had seen before, Faith who closed the distance between them and when Buffy turned her face away reached out, snarling - then subsided as Buffy took another half-step back. And then Faith was grabbing Buffy’s hand, bringing it against her own cheek. Buffy could feel Faith’s hot face under her fingers as Faith pressed her hand and brought Buffy’s other hand up, jerking them around so they rested on Faith’s hair and cheeks and brow as Buffy stood there, limp.

“Just - Please…”

Her hands, pressed against Faith’s face, and the way that Faith shivered, keened under her touch and… and what was happening? What had happened? Why were they…? What…

“Faith, I -” she started, feeling her face contort when she found absolutely nothing to finish with. Something about her face must’ve done it, because suddenly Faith looked horrifyingly hurt and broken and angry and tore away Buffy’s hands from her face and stared and exhaled loudly -

Faith spun around in sudden motion, tearing away from Buffy. Sprinting away, once again. No - Buffy’s steps followed her one, two, three - so close she almost stepped on Faith’s heels, grabbed at her sleeve and pulled her around, pulled her close and -

- they stared at each other, Faith feebly struggling. Like they already had, but now Faith had almost fallen and instinctively Buffy had put a hand on her back and now she was holding Faith up, staring down at her face and…

“No,” managed Buffy, barely, “We talk.” She tried to raise Faith to her feet. Faith did not cooperate.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Buffy let out an involuntary laugh. Faith looked hurt.

“Let me -”

“No,” said Buffy again, firmly, refusing to let go of Faith even as she straightened her up so that they were facing each other again. Her lips were feeling really really weird. She ran her tongue over them, saw Faith watching. Oh god. Faith had kissed those lips. Oh. Faith had kissed her. They had kissed. They had… They were… Oh. Oh. What?

“You made it clear what you thought,” said Faith, something odd and husky to her tone. But she was hurt, she was definitely hurt. Because… Because…

“I wasn’t thinking,” said Buffy, which was a so-so response going by Faith’s face.

“Neither was I,” said Faith and tried to turn away again.

Buffy didn’t let her. “No. We talk.”

“No. I’m with - I’m evil now, remember?” And more words spilled out. “Just… I don’t get why you even chased me or kept talking to me or did any of that, why would you - why would you…” She tried to shake Buffy off but neither of them were doing a great job at that tonight.

“I care about you,” whispered Buffy. A confession - one that made Faith look up instantly, looked at her like she was trying to figure out whether… while Buffy was trying to figure out whether…

“You - like -” She tried again, Buffy stopped her. Tried to turn away again, Buffy stopped her too. “What do you want?”

“Not like that,” said Buffy. “Not because… Not to keep you.” Keep? “Can we go back?”

“I can’t…”

“Can we go back now? We can go to the library. Or to my place. Can we go home?” She held Faith, saw herself winning the battle against her fellow slayer’s resolve. “Let’s go home.”

Faith hesitated, but she had already lost. “You’re not going to… Wesley…”

“Wesley can do one.”

“And Giles?”

“We’ve seen worse. It’s just… just come home, Faith. Let’s just go. It’s warm. My mom’s got cookies. Can we go now?”

They held each others gazes for a long moment. Then Faith nodded, and the corner of her mouth twitched, very nearly turned upwards.

“Cookies sound nice.”