#...why do I always decide to start drawing at midnight wha-

[cloudsrust]

Mighty.. need of comfort.. ngh-

..Spider!Sozo time.

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark, pt. 2

Part 1

a/n: This was already pretty much done so here you go. These parts are all rather short but that can be nice right? ~1.6k

i can’t concentrate if i keep seeing your face showing up in tea leaves lit up on my tv i can’t stand up straight under your gravity so i lay awake with my eyes closed

“Did you know 12% of people dream in black and white?”

“Wha-what?” Hotch groggily looked at the time on his phone. He had answered it blindly, autopilot kicking in to attend to the buzzing beside him on the couch. He blinked again and brought the phone back to his ear to hear Spencer’s voice more clearly.

“Yeah! It used to be a lot more when television was only in black and white but now that’s shifted obviously. Elderly people are still a lot more likely to have dreams that are—“

“Spencer,” Hotch interrupted the way the words were beginning to tumble out. When he was met with an abrupt silence he realized he didn’t have a follow up, he just needed a moment to breathe. To take in the dark living room, the flickering light of the television, its muted colors and grainy film showing a syndicated rerun, the kind only played in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, times when no productive person was meant to be watching. Something soft in its age, he found it comforting to put it on when he couldn’t sleep, woken again by nightmares that some monster had found their way to Haley and Jack. That they were suffering and he didn’t even know.

On the other end of the line, Spencer held his breath. He had been nervous about making the call, he wasn’t sure if it was too intrusive, too far across the boundaries they normally worked within. It wasn’t that he was worried about waking Hotch, he knew the other man was already awake. Even before they had started talking more, casually sharing details about the time they spent away from the office, it was obvious that Hotch did not sleep like a normal person. It was something else that they shared.

Seemingly endless minutes passed without another word from either man and his fear that he’d made a mistake grew. He told himself that Hotch was not pleased with the interruption. That he was being too assuming—why would Hotch be interested in anything he had to say at three in the morning? He’d called spurred on by the acute need to share a thought and, though he wasn’t totally conscious of it, a wish to hear that comforting voice, maybe even a quiet chuckle. He had smiled imagining that gentle sound, only he hadn’t realized it, the corners of his mouth moving without informing the rest of his mind. He touched his lips now with cold fingertips, running them over the dry skin, oblivious to the way his jaw clenched.

The silence between them hung like a bridge. There was a moment where both of them looked out at their respective living rooms, mentally steeling themselves to take a step and hope the other would meet them. Hope that they wouldn’t find themselves suspended over the water, alone as ever.

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” Spencer sounded so remorseful Hotch felt guilty immediately. He hadn’t meant cause him any anxiety with his long silence, he was just trying his best to gather his thoughts. To make sense of what he meant to do.

“It’s ok, really, I—“ Hotch hesitated, unsure how much detail to go into, how much reassurance was the right amount. He felt unreasonably awkward suddenly and twitched his fingers in irritation, “I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.”

“Really?” Spencer scrunched his eyes up, disliking the eagerness bleeding from his voice. He couldn’t help it though, the prospect of having the other man’s attention, even if it was only his voice reflecting from a satellite, knowing that Hotch was listening made him feel more secure. He’d spent too many restless nights pacing his apartment, starting and abandoning tasks in attempts to distract himself from the way the night was pressing uncomfortably close, threatening to overtake his mind. To have a friend to talk to, to reflect back his own reality, was a gift he could barely believe he deserved.

Hotch grunted as he adjusted himself on the couch cushions, supporting the back of his head on the pillows, resting the phone between his shoulder and ear. With his free hand he pulled up the blanket that had tangled at his feet. “Wide awake,” he said dryly. “What were you saying about dreams?”

Spencer’s smile was so big Hotch could hear it through the phone as the man stumbled ahead with the details of some completely unnecessary study. Hotch wanted to ask what had led to him reading such a thing but he was enjoying the happy way Spencer was running through all the new material he’d learned. He adored listening to Spencer speak, how he sometimes stopped short when remembering a related detail and how there’d be a pause while he took a split second to make the choice whether to jump to the new train of thought. Hotch smiled to himself and was pleased enough to offer hums of interest at inflection points. He let his eyes wander back to the television, as the title credits of another episode of Bonanza played across the screen, the pale wheat and horses and cowboys, already a distant fantasy in the 1960s, ancient history by today’s standards. His eyes fell half closed as he continued to listen to Reid’s voice.

“And, they just published a new study about how sleep deprivation decreases the body’s pain tolerance.”

Hotch snorted softly at this. “They really had to get a bunch of scientists together to figure that out? Someone paid for that?”

“Well it is always important to gather data and scientific evidence for these types of things. Anecdotal testimony won’t lead to any developments in the care for conditions like chronic pain,” Reid paused when he heard more quiet laughter from Aaron. He grinned.

“Do you want to hear something really crazy? They’ve found a connection between a person’s favorite sleeping position and their personality. Can you imagine!”

“Hmmph,” Hotch sank deeper into the cushions, settling in for whatever came next.

*

The calls became as regular as the midnight pancakes. Spencer would call with some piece of trivia, every night a new topic. He had a seemingly endless well of knowledge to draw on. In truth he spent the day trying to think of new ideas to share, new information he thought Hotch would appreciate. For no reason other than his own private satisfaction, he grouped topics thematically. This week they were going to be talking about space.

Now Hotch was ready, drowsy but checking his phone every few minutes to see if he’d somehow missed it ringing. He was looking at it yet again when it buzzed. He stared at the screen for a moment before answering, letting the name that flashed send a small thrill up his spine. He was not sure how it’d happened but he had come to rely on these calls. They still hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t acknowledged what this extracurricular time spent together might mean. They were simply seeking comfort, not questioning how this might be perceived outside these invisible moments.

“Hey Spence,” he barely got the words out before Spencer launched into that night’s prepared curiosities.

“Did you know most of the visible stars are actually multiple star systems? The singular stars are so much harder to see that astronomers used to believe that it was fairly uncommon to find a singular star like our sun.They hypothesized this was a contributing factor to why we hadn’t found evidence of extraterrestrial life. It is much harder for a planet to have the stability necessary for a habitable atmosphere with the potential fluctuations of a binary star system. Without as many single stars it made sense that it was exceedingly unlikely for life to form outside of our solar system.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Hotch murmured, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, ah,” Hotch stammered, a little embarrassed to have the comment acknowledged. He felt his neck growing warm as he tried to make out a reply. “Well, having two suns. I think it could be nice."
 “Why?” Spencer was genuinely curious.

“Um, I guess, I imagine it would be warmer for one,” he paused before adding on, waiting to see what Spencer’s reaction might be. He could almost hear the wheels of his mind turning with all the reasons Hotch’s logic was faulty. He hurried on before he became too self-conscious to finish his thought. “And, I’ve just never really liked the night, all the darkness. Maybe with two suns we could have a little more light in the world.”

Instead of responding, Spencer remained quiet, surprised by this uncharacteristically whimsical thought. Hotch could feel his whole neck had turned red, along with the warming tips of his ears.

“I—I don’t really like the night either,” he tried to sympathize. “It can feel…overwhelming.”

They sat for a moment, not sure where to take this or how the facts had turned into feelings.

“I’m happy I have you to talk to though.”

It was simple, but it was true and sweet and Hotch smiled, closing his eyes to better absorb the words.

“I’m happy too, Spencer.”

Now they were both blushing, the depth of meaning behind these brief statements readily apparent. For a moment, feeling the heat dancing across his face, Hotch wondered if this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe he was allowing things to become something irresponsible, something he couldn’t so easily walk back. He pictured Spencer, sitting across from him, animated and full of life, pulling further away from the shadows that teased around the edges. It didn’t matter, he decided. It didn’t matter what this was, only that they had found a hand to hold through the night.

“So, what else have you got for me?”

~Part 3~

[blissfulsun]

could you pleasee do 70&76 with Jeff from the angst prompts? 💞

hello my darling!! I’m sorry this took a couple of days, but its lowkey my favourite thing Ive ever written???🥺 Hope u like it just as much, ily💓 I changed both the slightest to fit into the idea I had I hope u don’t mind!!

word count: 1,713

Pretty little fears // Jeff Wittek

Jeff Wittek was a name you knew all too well. Except it used to bring visions of playgrounds and games of hide & seek, later swapped in for nights of sneaking out and stolen liquor from your father's hidden cabinet. Now, the man standing across the living room resembled more of a stranger.

Yet you somehow noticed him, eyes still instantly drawn to his taller figure in any room, this one particularly overcrowded. Your attention shifts when the friends you came with suggest a move to the garden.

He's listening to Toddy's story, or rather trying to make sense of the drunken rambling when a familiar head of hair passes in the corner of his eyes. It can't be, he tries to convince himself, searching past surrouding faces netherless, hopeful of the outcome but you're already gone.

You keep missing each other like that most of the night, you intentionally and Jeff still unsure if longing for you has finally materialised into him imagining you there in person.

The two of you collide when David stumbles across your group of girlfriends and invites you guys to 'rate his hot and less hot friends for a video'. You have no reason to say no, unaware of his connection to your hometown friend, never one to care much about social media and its content.

You make eye contact the moment you pass the threshold into the kitchen where the vs is gathered, Jeff first to speak despite the initial shock. 'y/n/n?' Others quiten down around you, eager to understand the connection between the two of you.

‘Long time Wittek' he's slightly confused and hurt by the careless tone of your greeting, his own mind going a hundred miles an hour at simply having you in such close proximity again.

You're silently seething, body simultaneously hot with rage and cold with faked indifference. You remain that way as he closes the distance between you, stiff in his arms when Jeff pulls you into a tight embrace.

The two of you remain like that for a while, your body melting into his form without permission. When he pulls away eventually, it's only far enough to look down at your face and ask 'wanna head outside? We have some catchin' up to do'. You sigh and nod, all too knowing that he wouldn't really let you have the choice.

Jeff couldn't let you go now that you seemingly fell back into his life, his hands guiding you as if you were to get lost in the house you've been in for the better portion of the night, you let him have at least that.

As soon as the two of you are outside and in a less crowded area you step away, distancing yourself from him in spite of the puppy eyes he directs at you. 'Well?..' You ask, hands wrapping around your waist in an effort to appear stand offish, the effort noted but futile.

Jeff just thinks you look adorable trying to stay mad at him, the attempts always failing in the past: from the time he tripped and accidently fell into your pride and joy of a sandcastle at four to the days when he began to fall into the wrong crowd, showing up at your window past midnight, asking to stay the night in a broken voice you could never say no to.

That's what your relationship with Jeff was, you gave and gave and he took. It wasn't always the case, early formative years of your friendship spent in mutual affection. He would push, punch and kick the bullies and in return you would offer him half of your snacks.

Then it transitioned to fighting just about anyone, and for any reason, not just for you. Still, you would bandage up the cuts and bruises, gentle kisses healing his scars better than any ointment.

You were a team, is what both of you would say whenever questions arose, jealous girlfriends & boyfriends alike or your parents increasingly protective in light of his misbehaviours. Even his own mother, who really just wanted the best for him and you, unsure at one point if you could pull him back and if it was fair to put such pressure on a 17 year old girl. You couldn't, evidently.

Jeff continued to hang out with a crowd you refused to be around and then you left for college. He was upset at first, his fear of abandonment and simply missing you translating into weeks of radio silence until he showed up at your dorm, the two of you falling back into the friendship no one else could understand.

It was fine like that for a while and then he left for Miami, promising to stay safe and in touch, though less often than either of you would like. His seventh arrest was the final blow, you mostly unaware to the extent of his illegal activities and the number of times Jeff found himself behind bars. That last time was the worst, not only because he was sentenced to at least a couple of months but because his own mother finally informed you.

'Jeff? Seriously...' your anger snaps him out of reminiscing. You look far less eager to take a trip down memory lane, but if he's already taken up your time you might as well get some answers, you decide. 'Why?' you grit your teeth, continuing 'why did you abandon me?' It's a loaded question and you're terrified of it's outcome.

‘Darlin' Jeff tries, his hand reaching for your own but you stand your ground despite his softened expression. 'No. Enlighten me. How do you spend every day with someone, write and call for months and just...just lie until you had no choice but admit you were fuckin' dealing drugs Jeffrey.' You want to shout, holding back for the sake of not gathering yourself an audience.

Meanwhile he visibly flinches at the accusing tone of yours. After a couple of calming breaths you look up at his face and begin to feel small again, back to the little girl barely reaching his shoulders & always gripping at the sleeve of his jumper.

'That's not even the worst part...' your words are softer now, Jeff can't decide if that and the tears gathering in your eyes are worse than the angry dialogue. 'The worst part is that you never responded...to any of my letters. I drove hundred of miles as a broke ass student only to find out I was already written off your visitors list' you pause, looking up to the sky to gather yourself and prevent the waterworks begging to start.

He just watches you both in awe and undeniable pain, heart split between letting you go as to not relive the pain and bringing you into his arms, body aching for the familiar comfort no one else has ever been successful in replacing, not really. 'After everything we've been through?' The last question comes out broken.

'I'm sorry...' he scrambles to reword when he catches sight of the perplexed anger adorning your face. 'I...you were goin' places alright? You were always going to be someone great darlin'. I just slowed that down and then...the final arrest happened. And I...you didn't need to see me like that, behind bars. I would rather do it alone a million more times than to put you through that.'

Jeff can only hope his explanation comes across half as elegantly. It doesn't, he realises at your sudden outburst, 'That wasn't your choice to make! Fuck you.' The response draws some unwanted attention to the pair of you, his friends standing in a corner nearby and trying to work out your significance.

'Angel please...' Jeff decides to try an old method of calming you down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck under the cascading hair you let down for the night. Your mind is still focused on the erupting anger, but your body, it surrenders to the familiar hold, shoulders unwittingly losing tension and expression softening while he stares in your eyes.

'You weren't alone.' The softness with which you deliver your next response shocks you both. The thought continues at sight of his confusion, 'You didn't have to do it alone. We were a team, from the time we were barely four...' Jeff nods at that truth. 'I know...' he's not sure whether to continue, unsure if this was the right place or time but already in too deep with a single look into your glassy eyes.

‘I know but I loved you-' 'wha' your attempt at interruption and shocked expression is ignored. '-and I know you loved me too angel. That's why...I could never do that to you' The confession hangs in the air, but at least it's finally out there, Jeff thinks. Years of repressed emotions and regret spilling over in favour of gentle relief inside your childhood best friend.

You clear your throat, 'right..' the eye contact is broken as you force your body away from his hold. He's confused, heart dropping into his stomach in disappointment as you stiffly walk around him and back inside without another word.

Jeff takes the leap and catches up to you outside, short of breath from the chase. '-wait!! That's...that's it? ' he has to ask. You whip around to face him for the second time tonight.

‘Yes! That's fuckin' it you asshole. You single handedly ripped my heart out and disappeared from my life like it was the easiest thing in the world! Of course I have always loved you, you..you selfish arrogant little pri-' the rant was left unfinished, a soft pair of lips shutting you up.

Jeff had to kiss you. It's been all he's thought about since you stepped into the random kitchen a couple minutes ago, the need so intense and eerily reminscent of his teenage years and early adulthood, always left unfulfilled for your own sake.

This time...he's tired of denying himself the pleasure, years older and maybe wiser, unwilling to ever let you go again. 'm still mad at you..' you mumble when he finally has to pull away for some air. The laugh that escapes him both infuriates and enamores you further, 'I know darlin...but I love you too.'

[eeveevie]

dream theory

From this prompt list: marcid - incredibly exhausted

Thank you, @mizlapes​! That’s what I am all the damn time so I can draw great inspiration for this prompt. May have gone overboard in responding and elaborated far more than I needed to. But I’m also world building a bit, since I decided to go for another story with Rosie and Butch :D 

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

2240 words | [read on Ao3]

Rosie knew she was asleep—she always knew when she was asleep—a talent she had discovered in adolescence after reading about lucid dreaming in her father’s science textbooks. Perhaps the reading was advanced for her age, but nonetheless she was able to trick her mind. Ever since, she had been able to control her dreams on most nights. She was typically a heavy sleeper and the combination made her sleep-cycles very intense when things went awry. And lately, her dreams weren’t going the way she wanted them to.

That evening, she had tried to go to sleep at a reasonable time but found her mind was too restless. In an effort to not disturb her housemate, Rosie snuck downstairs and cozied up in the corner of the couch with her journal, carefully detailing the last few days from memory. She glanced back up at the second story rafters, thinking if she focused hard enough she might hear Butch snoring through his closed bedroom door. She had given him the spare room after weeks of him hogging the sofa—he was starting to develop a strain in his neck on account of the fact he was too tall to sleep on it properly. It was still so bizarre to Rosie that this was where her life had led her—kicked out of the vault and shacked up with Butch DeLoria.

It wasn’t all bad though—he pulled his weight (even if she had to encourage him sometimes), could clean and cook and was surprisingly good company. After the prom stunt, Rosie had been walking on eggshells, carefully guarding her emotions as to not accidentally reveal or do something stupid. She didn’t want to jeopardize what was starting to become a good friendship between the two, something they missed out on while growing up in the vault. She was convinced that with a little bit of time and logic her crush would dissipate and that one day she’d laugh about how ridiculous it all was.

Rosie hadn’t realized she’d been dictating some of these sentiments in her notebook and contemplated crossing them out when her eyes became heavy. She shifted, leaning her head against the back of the couch for a moment as she rested her journal against her curled-up knees. Being that it was well past midnight, it couldn’t hurt to rest her eyes for a while and attempt to traverse the dreamscape once more. As the darkness enveloped her, she struggled to maintain focus, trying to craft a pleasant atmosphere for herself. Instead, all she could see was the Capital Wasteland—particularly the Arlington Cemetery.

Her body was moving on its own, soft whispers echoing around her and metal creaking that she wanted to say was just the Megaton home adjusting around her. Frantically she tried to snap open her eyes but found herself paralyzed—a slight panic settled over her and she reminded herself to breathe or it would only be made worse. She floated through the gravesites towards a back plot where a strange man stood with a shovel overlooking a freshly dug grave. He motioned for her to get in, to which she struggled to lean away—something was preventing her.

“Hey,” he spoke. The voice sounded familiar, too quiet to tell. But it didn’t match the unknown, almost faceless man she was staring at. “Come on.”

Rosie couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. Again she resisted when the man reached out for her, this time his hands making contact with her arms—it sent a shockwave through her system in how it felt so real. She twisted her body, struggling to wiggle herself free but ultimately could not.

“Damnit, Rosie.”

How did the man know her name? She supposed it was a dream concocted by her brain, the imaginary assailant should know. He gently shook her, his touch a contrast to what her mind was leading her to believe. She responded by pushing her hands out to grab him by the shoulders, gripping tightly as she willed herself to speak, to scream. She didn’t want to get in the grave, even if she knew it wasn’t real. The man shook her again, repeating her name.

Finally, with a sharp inhale, she snapped open her eyes and found her body reacting to delayed signals. Whomever was hovering over her got the brunt and she gripped their arms tightly, nearly headbutting them in an attempt to leap off the couch.

“Jesus!” Butch yelped, his hands tightening around her shoulders as he set her back on the couch before she could get too far. She stared up at him, a mix of shock and embarrassment—caught in the midst of a nightmare and why was he so damn close? “Holy shit, Stitches! You alright?”

Rosie swallowed hard, flexing her fingers when she realized she still had them wrapped around his biceps in a death-grip. He was wearing his white t-shirt, no leather jacket to cover up the muscles beneath, allowing her to get more than a good feel at his skin. When she felt her ears heating up, she let go, snapping her hands back to her sides. Butch seemed more focused on what had just occurred, assuring she wasn’t going to move before taking a hesitant step back.

“Got up to take a piss and saw you down here in the dark,” he explained with a shrug. “Wondered why you weren’t asleep. Didn’t realize you kinda were,” he scratched at the back of his head, and she noted the way his hair was hanging un-styled in bedhead waves. “Didn’t mean to scare ya’”    

She rolled her eyes at his vulgarity but crossed her arms to rub at her shoulders at the strange, underlying kindness in his words. He could’ve just stayed upstairs and ignored her but there he was, making an effort again and unknowingly chipping away at the defenses around her heart. Butch bent over to scoop up her journal that had dropped from her lap in his attempt to rouse her. At first, Rosie was convinced he would flip through it and see that she had been recently (and not so recently) been writing about him but to her surprise he very quickly handed it back to her with a smirk.

“I ain’t no snoop,” he said proudly.

She’d forgive him for the double-negative—turned out Butch could learn manners, but grammar and speech etiquette would have to come later. He sat down on the sofa next to her, the cushion shifting under his weight. Rosie moved, tucking her legs under herself and wrapping her arms around her knees as she leaned back into the corner—physically blocking him from coming any closer. He mimicked her, resting against the back padding so he could face her—their knees and arms knocked together in the small space.

“What’s got you so startled?” he asked.

She shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. They were too curious, and they were too close for her comfort. She didn’t mean to be evasive in her answer. “I’m not sure.”

“Pfft,” Butch replied, furrowing his brows. The back of his hand lightly smacked against her knee. “Don’t you have an answer for everything, smarty-pants?”

Rosie scrunched up her nose at the nickname, shaking her head. With a sigh, she nuzzled her head into the back-couch cushion. “Not for nightmares. Dream analysis isn’t medical science. That’s phycology, and even then it’s a very specialized form of phycology. Practically a pseudoscience.”

“Again with the big words,” Butch teased, smiling. “You saying you don’t know why you were so scared because of a nightmare? Or that you need to study a nightmare to find out why you were so scared?”

“A little of column a, little of column b,” she responded, hiding her amusement when she noted the confusion in his expression. “My…journal is filled with dream evaluations. I haven’t been sleeping well, which is unusual, and I’ve noted an increase in night-terrors and sleep paralysis.”

“Sleep—wha?” Butch questioned, eyebrows raised.

Rosie shifted uncomfortably. “It typically happens when you are waking up and are aware of your surroundings but are unable to move or speak. You hallucinate things that are not really present, almost like you are trapped between imagination and reality. It can be very frightening.”

He bristled. “Jeeze, Stitches. If you ain’t got enough shit to deal with.”

She tightened the hold around her knees. What she wouldn’t divulge was the guilt she felt surrounding the sudden appearance of said nightmares. For months she had been sleeping blissfully, almost as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Even after her father died and while she grieved, sleep came naturally—it was only very recently that she had become plagued by visions of darkness and death—and she wanted to know why. Why now, and not sooner? Psyche wasn’t a perfect science, but she was determined to narrow down a cause like the pragmatic scientist she was.

“Hey uh,” Butch started, pulling her from her thoughts. His hand was tapping against her knee again, fingers tugging against her cotton sweatpants. “I got a theory.”

Rosie quirked up an eyebrow, wondering if her vocabulary had started to rub off on him after all. He sneered at her for a split second in teasing as if he noticed her subtle shift in expression. “Yeah, so, maybe dreams are just dreams and that’s all that’s to ‘em. Don’t let nothin’ in some fancy textbooks tell you otherwise.”

For once, Butch’s advice was actually good. Maybe Rosie was too much in her head about her own thoughts and dreams. If all she did was obsess over every minute of her sleep-cycle, she’d be playing into the mad-scientist trope he’d been teasing her about for over a decade. Subconsciously, she adjusted her glasses and ran her fingers across her notebook.

“Writing is a good distraction,” she tapped the worn cover.

Butch softly laughed, and she realized his hand had moved to rest against hers. Their knuckles brushed with the contact, the heat of his skin radiating up her arm. Rosie resisted the urge to overreact, steadying herself—she really needed to get a grip of her feelings quickly if they were going to continue living under the same roof, let alone continue to travel together.

“A good distraction is a drink,” he suggested. With his other hand he gutted his thumb over his shoulder. “Moriarty’s is still open. Two of us could get a nightcap in, whadd’ya say?”

For starters, she didn’t drink, and Butch knew that. But that certainly didn’t stop him from persisting on occasion, wondering when she’d drop the goodie-two-shoes act. They weren’t living in the vault anymore and didn’t have to follow some Overseer’s rules about abstaining from alcohol while underage. Matter of fact, they didn’t have to abstain from a lot of things—Rosie decided to not let her mind wander. Secondly, she wondered if he knew the implications or innuendo behind what he said—likely not—she blushed, thinking maybe she had read into his words instead.

“No thank you, Butch,” she declined politely, smiling at his overdramatic pout. “I appreciate the offer, even if you should’ve anticipated my answer.” She made to glance at her wrist for the time when she realized she wasn’t wearing her Pip Boy, the device left on her nightstand. Butch wasn’t wearing his either.

“It’s late,” she continued, guessing it had to be early morning. “A better idea is for you to go to sleep.”

He shook his head, leaning closer. “I ain’t goin’ to sleep unless you are too.”

“You are stubborn,” Rosie sighed, allowing a tiny smile to pull at the corner of her lips.

Butch smirked. “So are you.”

He shifted, pushing himself off the couch to stand before offering his hand to her. She gripped it, allowing him to hoist her upright even though she was perfectly capable of doing so herself. The two stood there for a lingering moment, hands gripped just staring at one another and Rosie thought back to just a few weeks earlier when they had been slow dancing in that very spot—how she had imagined what it would be like if they kissed. She wouldn’t dare to make that kind of bold move and there was no rational part of her mind that convinced her that Butch wanted any such thing—even if he didn’t seem eager to let go of her hand.

He nodded his head towards the stairs, and she followed his lead, glancing down at their clasped hands as they walked. Butch didn’t’ release his grip until they were outside their adjacent doors, turning to face her with a grin.

“Remember what I said,” he gestured to the journal tucked under her arm before moving his hand up to brush against her forehead. It was hard to tell if it was affectionate or playful. “Try not to worry that pretty lil’ head of yours.”

Rosie felt her cheeks go warm, and desperately tried to think of a witty comeback but the silence had stretched on for too long. She was destined to always be the quiet, fumbling nerd. Except now it was made much worse with her seemingly unrequited crush. She offered a tiny smile. “Goodnight, Butch.”

He returned the expression in kind, leaning against his doorway as he watched her shut herself away behind the closed door. “Goodnight, Rosie.”

[willow-salix]

Isolation update!

Day 79 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I’ve finally got my phone back from Scott, he forgot to give it to John and then took it to bed and then slept really late and it was all a bit of a panic. Because you know what it’s like when you can't find your phone, right? Yeah, that was me. Coming out of headache delirium at around 4am, mostly because John accidentally kicked me and woke me up, I reached for my phone to check the time and couldnt find it. Instant fear, instant terro , how would I stay connected to the world of out? How could I survive being stuck here with these idiots without being able to talk to sane people that don’t think that having a pie eating contest as a midnight snack is a fine thing to do (Yes, Scott, I’m looking at you).

Phone was nowhere to be seen. I snuck out of bed, headache almost gone and totally unable to sleep any longer after napping almost constantly all day yesterday, and searched John’s side of the bed. No phone. His was there but mine wasn’t. I checked his pockets, unearthing two hairbands, a box of tic tacs, a random piece of something that had a microchip in it, his favorite pen, a comb, a fish hook(?) and a screwed up piece of paper that said ‘Kick me’ on it. No phone.

“Coffee, I need coffee,” I muttered.

“Huh? Wha?” John half sat up, paused and then flopped back down, going straight back to sleep. I guess he wasn't getting up any time soon. Being back on the Island for so long had actually gotten him into something that was vaguely like a normal person's sleep pattern, in the fact that he was actually getting more than three hours a night. It was like his body was thoroughly enjoying the rest and was making the most of it meaning that when he was asleep he stayed that way, a rarity for him since he was so used to listening out for alerts and was usually an extremely light sleeper. We just left him to sleep for as long as he needed.

I tiptoed out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and made my way to the kitchen to grab myself some apple juice and a cup of coffee, taking it with me to the lounge.

I stopped in the doorway and actually had to ask myself if I was still asleep, was I dreaming? Why was there an extremely large pizza on the couch? I sniffed the coffee then sipped it. Hot, strong, wet...yep, I was definitely awake and this was definitely coffee. I took a few steps closer and almost jumped out of my skin when the pizza moved, unrolling itself to reveal Gordon.

“Why the heck are you even here?” I had to ask.

He sat up and lifted the corner of his pizza blanket, moving his legs so I could sit beside him.

“You OK?” I settled in next to him, allowing him to steal some of my apple juice while I tucked the blanket over us.

He shrugged, going for my coffee next.

“Did I wake you up?” I asked.

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I got up.”

“And brought a pizza with you?” I stroked the soft blanket. “Where did you even get this, anyway?”

“I saw it advertised on holobook and thought it might be fun.”

I nodded, it was certainly that. I gently bumped his shoulder with my own.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Just had a lot on my mind I guess. None of us thought that this whole lockdown thing would last so long and it’s starting to get to me.”

“Want to talk about it? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, not really.”

I frowned, this wasn't like our Gordon, he was usually so cheerful, being this quiet and withdrawn wasn’t like him. I nudged him again.

“How about we do something together today, whatever you want.”

“Seriously?” he didn’t look like he believed me. “Anything I want?”

“Yep, anything and I promise I won’t say no.”

He grinned evilly and I suddenly had the worst feeling that I was going to regret this.

“OK, you’re on.”

***

“She’s gonna die out there,” Scott told John a few hours later as they all sat in a row on the beach, watching as Gordon tried to explain to me the basics of how to water ski and I was seriously debating if I needed to take out a life insurance policy to makes sure my house plants were taken care of.

“All you have to do is relax back on your heels, bum on the board, arms down low and let the boat do most of the work. I’m gonna go first so you can see how it’s done.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust Scott not to gun the boat and drown me?”

“Hey! I resent that! I can go slowly if I want to!” he yelled back, overhearing my question.

“Maybe I should drive,” Virgil suggested.

“Yeah, maybe he should,” I agreed. I was seriously regretting this decision. Of all the stupid choices I’d made recently this had to top the list.

“No, I got this,” Scott initiated, climbing into the boat.

“He don’t got this,” Alan muttered, but I tried hard to ignore him.

Gordon made it look easy, as all of them did with 98.7% of everything they did. They did things effortlessly, like it was as natural as breathing. They all had the poise, the balance, the confidence and the upper body strength to do almost anything. Me...not so much.

I tried to follow his instructions, I tried to sit back, relax and keep leaning back as the boat took off, letting it take me, but those instructions didn’t count on the speed freak that was Scott being at the wheel.

“You said you’d go slowly!” I yelled as I struggled to lift my head out of the water, having been yanked forward and deposited face first in the sea.

“That was slow!” he yelled back.

“I meant normal people slow! My kind of slow, not Tracy slow!”

“Is there actually another kind of slow?” Alan asked Virgil, who shrugged, wise boy wasn't getting involved.

I tried four more times, each more disastrous than the others. I went backwards, I tipped sideways, I did what amounted to a summersault and almost knocked myself out with the edge of my board. Headache, welcome back , I can’t lie and say I missed you.

“No! I give up! I am not here for your entertainment!” I screamed at them as they all fell about laughing, Alan almost toppling out of the boat to join me.

I flapped my way over to them, towing myself in on the line, hand over hand as I inched my way closer.

“When I eventually get there you had better all be ready to apologise for laughing at me!” I warned them.

I got closer, slowly but surely and reached for the boat. It shot forward a few paces.

“Very funny, numb nut!” I yelled at Scott who was obviously in one of his evil moods.

John reached out a hand for me and I grabbed on tight. I had a split second to make my decision. I yanked hard, pulling him out of the boat and into the water with an almighty splash.

He spluttered and flailed as he hit the water and vanished for a second before he bobbed back up.

Gordon burst out laughing, finally smiling properly for the first time that day.

John got back in the boat with minimal scowling for him, though he did flick water in my face again, which I deserved.

“Plan B,” Gordon decided, finally sobering enough to talk. His Plan B took the form of a jet ski that he rode beside the boat while he yelled instructions at me.

It took us a few more goes but I eventually managed to get to my feet and stay upright for more than thirty seconds, which we were counting as a win. I gave up my board to Alan and Gordon and dragged myself into the boat, wrapped myself up in a massive towel and called it a day.

I can’t say that I had fun, but I hadn’t done it for me. Sometimes even the most cheerful and happy of us need a little helping hand, they need someone to check on them, to care about them and go out of their way to make them smile. And that’s what you do for family.

((Little announcement. I've loved doing these, but it's been a long time and I'm finding it harder to come up with ideas and finding that it's becoming a chore to write them every day, and it's taking up all my time meaning that my writing time and drawing time is suffering. That's not to say I'm giving up on theses, my aim is to keep going every day until day 100 and after that, I'll post some as and when I am inspired to do so and when I get an idea.

When I started these I didn't know how long lockdown would last but I didn't think it would still be going now. I hope I've brought a little joy with these updates, which was always the intention.

As I said, I won't be stopping completely, if I think fo something or I'm inspired then I'll write it, but I need a break, I've written over 80k so far, which is a good sized novel. Hope you all understand))

[amenomiko]

Hey so I read the request is on again~ If you dont mind, would you make "there's only one bed" warlords reaction? (Modern AU, and they're not in relationship with MC yet) Thankss! 🌸

Thank you for the request anon. Sorry for the late reply.

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They were only colleagues. Particularly, he is her boss, and she is his personal assistant. There was one time they had to go for outstation at certain place, checking the newly opened branch of their company.

MC had made a booking even before they depart to the so called destination. However, due to the lack of connection in that area, the hotel didn't receive her email (she couldn't make a call, once again, the connection is poor). Luckily the hotel had one room left for her and her boss to stay for the night.

But....

There was only one bed. It was a double bed. It was not a problem. But the problem here is.. They are not a pair of lovers to share it. That's where the argument- discussion started.

Nobunaga

"Why, fireball? It's a chance to get to know your future lover."

"Why would you call it nonsense? I'm serious."

Bam! She slammed the door.

He chuckled to her bewildered expression. While at the other door (living room) she had rolled her eyes.

He waited until she fall asleep, and carried her to the bed, watching her asleep soundly, kissed her forehead gently.

The next day she woke up in his arms, nearly screamed her lungs out but decided not to because her boss is sleeping soundly (she heard a rumor that he are always lack of sleep due to past trauma).

Where actually he is already awake, smiling silently to himself.

Hideyoshi

The endless argument of "No, I will sleep on the sofa..!" and "No..! Let me be the one who sleep on the sofa!"

It ended until 12 am.

Both of them eventually sleep side by side on the bed before they realize it.

Fatigue had helped to end the argument.

Eventhough the next day both of them were too shocked until they fell from the bed in unison.

Masamune

"You are always welcome to sleep in my broad chest, kitten. *wink wink* 😏"

He get nothing but her back facing him, and he chuckle to her red ears.

He pulled her, locking her freedom in between of his arms as he hover above her with a smile.

She were too shocked, flailing her legs and accidentally KICKED on his *beep*.

He fainted.

The next morning, she couldn't look at her boss in the eye.

Ieyasu

First thing in his mind is none other than "Damn it."

Before she could suggest that she will sleep on the sofa, he already slammed the door to the living room with "Don't be an idiot."

She couldn't bring herself to sleep as she slowly peek to the living room around midnight and quickly cover him with a blanket.

Before she could escape, a voice halted her.

Her boss is mumbling in his sleep. With "....MC..Stop.. being.. so ..adorable.."

She blushed so red it took a while for her to toss and turn that night to sleep.

Mitsunari

He insist to sleep at the sofa, but as MC had expected, he is still not asleep as he engrossed himself into his favorite book up until 2 am.

She decided to sit beside him, feeling guilty to sleep peacefully alone.

After another hour, he had finished his book, realizing something heavy on his shoulder.

He blushed to MC who lean on his shoulder, and silently kiss her temple, carrying her to the bed before returning back to the sofa.

Mitsuhide

"Oh? My little mouse is not listening to me hmm? You've got the guts to defy me? You do know what will happen if you defy me, ri--"

She grabbed a pillow, rushing towards the living room. "Wh-whatever it is, I will sleep here!"

SLAM!

He was taken aback, and he chuckled on how cute she is.

An hour before midnight, he carried her to the bed, brushing and caressing her hair locks, watching her sleep beside him.

Kenshin

"B-boss-"

Slam. He already went to the living room.

"Don't come over here or else I will kill you."

"But-"

"Be quiet."

MC decided not to disturb her boss. Or else she will be killed for sure (despite she knew that that's her boss's usual way of saying 'No.')

The next day she jumped from all the bunnies that appeared out of no where in the living room, acting as Kenshin's pillow and blanket.

Shingen

"Boss, you should sleep inside..! The sofa is too small for you..!" He put his finger on her lips with a wink.

"If you prolong this discussion, shall I stop you with a kiss, Goddess?"

"Wh-wh-wha??" She blushed.

"Good girl." He grabbed one of the pillows and about to walk to the living room when MC said

"I'm just.. Worried about you. Didn't you just recovered from your recent surgery?"

He nearly explode as he smiled to her, "Goddess if you say another cute thing I don't think I would be able to see you as my mere personal assistant after this you know?"

He chuckled and close the door before calming his rapid heartbeart.

Yukimura

Both of them have been kneeling, facing each other with a frown look.

"ROCK PAPERS SCISSORS!"

A draw.

"Again??"

"Ughhh can't you just agree to sleep on the bed damn it! I'm sleepy you know??"

"Well excuse me Mr.Yukimura, I am sleepy myself..!"

"ROCK PAPERS SCISSORS!"

Another draw.

Both of them tug their hair and this game ended around 1 am where they eventually fell asleep on the same bed.

Sasuke

"Mr.Sasuke, I insist to sleep here, on the sofa! So could you please move to the bed?"

He look away from her.

"Mr.Sasuke, take off the ear plug away this instant!!"

"Oh. You knew about it?"

".....I didn't become your personal assistant for nothing. This is a habit of yours when-" She paused when Sasuke place a spray in front of her face.

"Sleeping Beauty Spray Technique."

**PSSSSSSTTTT**

....And she fell in his arms.

"Hmm. Another successful invention." He nod proudly to himself before tucking MC on the bed.

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[g-on-ef]

What about an angst fic where Marco and Ace are stuck in a cave in, Ace is injured but Marco isnt cause of his powers, and as they try to find a way out Ace gets worse and worse and Marco gets more desperate?

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A/N: I Love this idea !!!! Had a lot of fun with writing this ^^

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It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, nothing bigor fancy just the two of them scanning the area for any potential threats andreport back Pops and let him know if the area was safe or not.

What neither of them expect was for an earthquake and trapthem in an underground cave.

Marco and Ace were searching the entire area and weresurprised to see how peaceful the town was, Ace being the paranoid little shitthat he was wanted to make sure there wasn’t any danger anywhere so he decidedto go check the caves, Marco of course agreed, which was surprising to Marcosince Ace was claustrophobic, Ace of course reassured him that as long as therewas light in the gave then he will be okay.

Marco foolishly agreed and followed Ace into the caves,they moved less the three miles before an earthquake Marco rushed to Ace’s aidbut was too late as the rocks fell on top of both of them knocking the down tothe ground.

After a few short moments Marco was able to stand on hisfeet, shaking off the dizzy feeling that was currently leaving his body, helooked around the dark room, lighting his arm he searched for Ace, a part ofhis mind was panicking, praying to anyone who would listen that his lover wasokay.

Another part of him tried to remain calm, panicking rightnow would be the worse mistake he could make, Ace was probably injured andscared outta of his mind and he needed Marco to be cool and collected, if he senseMarco freaking out for even a moment it would sent Ace to have a panic attackand Marco did not need to see his lover in such a worry state.

Looking around he spotted Ace lying face first on theground.

“Ace!” the blond rushed over to his lover, kneeling downhe checked to see if there were any fatal wounds on Ace.

He saw Ace’s shoulder was dislocated while both his legsappeared fine until Marco reached his ankles and saw one was sprain and theother was broken, Marco removed his shirt and began to rip it into pieces, hequickly tied each piece on Ace’s broken body.

Carefully turning him on his back Marco checked to makesure that the rest of Ace’s body was okay, aside from a few scrapes on hischeek and a nasty wound on his head, no doubt that his lover was going to havea concussion.

Taking a deep breath Marco gently wiped away the bloodand clean his wounds as best as he could. He thanked his lucky stars that his devilfruit could heal his wounds but he damn everything for not being able to do thesame to those he loved and cared for.

He watched as Ace’s face scrunched up in pain before heopened his eyes, Marco sigh a breath of relief, midnight orbs stared at hisface and for a split second Marco felt like he was getting lost in those bottomlesspits of darkness.

Most people fear the darkness but for Marco, whenever hestared into Ace’s midnight orbs he always felt like he wouldn’t mind gettinglost in them, exploring every secret; finding precious memories that he helddear to his heart, learning everything and anything about this fallen angel whodecided to grace Marco with his presence.

A small cough interrupted Marco of his muses and heremembered where they were. Remembering Ace’s claustrophobia, he quickly lithis arm on fire to allow some form of light to form the room.

“Ma-Marco?”

“Hey pretty boy,”

“Wha-what happened?” Ace tried to ignored the pain in hisbody, the last thing he wanted was for Marco to worry about him, sure he hadsome minor injuries at least in his opinion they were minor, that were noticeablebut there was some internal damage that couldn’t be seen and Ace did not wantMarco to start panicking about the pain that was going on inside his body.

Not to mention that they were stuck in a cave, he wasgrateful for Marco’s flames lighting the room, if it weren’t for that fact Acewas sure he would start freaking out and with his injuries he was certain thathaving a panic attack would not be the best thing to do.

“There was an earthquake and sadly, we got trappedinside,”

“Oh,” Ace began to cough a little, trying to mask thepain that he was feeling. Why did it hurt to breath? And why did he feel thisweird feeling on his chest?

The funny thing about Ace, he always thought that he wasable to hide things from Marco.

Sadly, Marco was able to read him like an open book, heknew when his lover was hurt, when he was trying to hide things. Right now, heknew his Handsome boy was in pain, knew that he was trying to be strong for Marcoso that he would not worry about him.

Marco gently lifted Ace so that he was sitting up, Acebit his tongue so that his cries of pain would stay silent.

“Are you alright Handsome?”

“Yeah, just need a moment to catch my breath,”

Marco nodded his head, letting his lover rest on hischest while Ace snuggled a little closer to him.

“I always feel so safe in your arms, you know that?”

Marco smiled at that before he leaned down and kissed Ace’sforehead.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what love?”

“Kiss my forehead?”

Marco laughed a little before he leaned down and kissedhis cheeks.

“Because I fell in with your mind before I fell in lovewith the rest of you, your beautiful mind had caught my attention but your gorgeousheart stole mine,”

Ace couldn’t help but blush at Marco’s words.

“You always have such a way with words, you know that?”

“Only with you Handsome,”

The two laughed, unfortunately it was cut short from Ace’scough.

“Ace?”

“I’m fine,”

“No your not, listen I’m gonna leave you for a second,”he could see the panic in his before he tighten his hold on him.

“It’ll only be for one-minute okay? I am going to try andsee if I could find a way out okay?”

“O-okay, umm… can you make sure that your entire body isburning so I can see some light?”

“Of course,” he kissed his forehead before he gently liedhim down, he then lit his entire body on fire before he rushed to see if hecould find an exist.

Ace watched as Marco left, what neither one realized washow deep in the cave they were, seeing him going farther and farther away wasbeginning to freak Ace out a little, he slowly lift his arm and tried to createsome fire, sadly with his arms in bad shape and his body screaming in agony hewas unable to create even in a tiny flame.

Ace tried to control his breathing tried to relax his mind,but he couldn’t, he felt like a cage animal, trapped inside a cage with noescape. He could feel a lump forming on his throat, palms becoming sweaty, theneed to crack his knuckles-a  habit hedeveloped as a child whenever he was scared-was becoming greater with eachpassing second.

He could feel his heartbeat accelerating, trying tocontrol his breathing he took a deep breath and slowly released it, it hurt hischest but if it help calm his racing heart he would gladly welcome any pain.

“Marco will be back, he is only gone for a moment and hewill be back,”

“Or maybe he forgot about me and left me here fordead,”

“No, he wouldn’t do that, he would never do somethinglike that,”

“But he’s been gone longer than a minute,”

“No, he hasn’t it’s only been thirty seconds,”

“Tick, tock,tick, tock,”

Ace tried to control his mind and not let any of histhoughts control his mind.

Closed his eyes and tried to think of happy thoughtswhich was of his two brothers Luffy and Sabo. He reminces on times when theywere kids, when they found out Sabo was alive and survived the explosion.

How happy the three were to be reunited, Luffy and Law’swedding…yes the captain of the Heart Pirates and the captain of the Straw Hatswere getting married soon…Sabo and Khola’s child…the walls falling down on himtrapping him in a never ending darkness that he will never escape.

Ace’s eyes shot open, and it was dark…was it possible fora room to be this dark? Was it just his imagination that the cave was getting darkerand darker with each passing second? He could have sworn he felt something crawlinghis arm.

“Calm down Ace, it’s just your imagination there isnothing on your arm…”

A weird shriek was heard from the distance…

“Just your imagination,” Ace told himself before takingcalming breaths something Dadan told him to do if he ever felt scared.

He could have sworn he heard a noise, the same noise heheard a moment ago were getting closer to him, was that Marco? No, it wasn’t,if it was, he would have seen some type of light coming his way…was it someanimal that was coming to eat his body? No, no animal that lives in a cavewould want to eat a human right? Right?

The walls felt like they closing in on him…he felt theneed to breath was getting harder and harder to do, he felt some strangepressure on his chest and he needed to set it free in some way…he heard somenoise…getting closer and closer…where was Marco? It’s been a minute, right? Whywasn’t he here? Was the noise getting louder? Closer? What was making thatawful noise? And was it going to hurt him?

Marco where are you…

“ACE!”

Ace looked at Marco who looked scared and worried.

“Ma…Marco…”

“Ace…”

Before he could ask anything, he felt Ace going limp inhis arms.

Marco wanted to set himself on fire, punch himself,something to cause himself half the pain that Ace was in.

He was only gone for literally thirty seconds before heheard Ace screaming his head off, he ran towards him and saw in fear as Ace wasclawing at his arms drawing blood from them and crying out for help.

Marco was calling himself every horrible name he couldthink of; how could he think Ace would be fine? He was hurt, scared, and Marcofoolishly left him in the dark by himself.

“Why did I leave you alone?” he whispered to himself as he stroke Ace’s head. 

They needed to get out ofhere, if Ace were to wake up again in this dark area he would have anotherpanic attack and this time Marco was certain that this one would be worse thanthe last…he needed to find a way out…needed to get them out as soon as possible…carryingAce on his back Marco lit his body on fire and ran towards the entrance of thecave…he sent a silent prayer that Pops and the rest of the crew could find themand prayed that he could get both him and Ace out of the cave before Ace wokeup…

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HELP !!! So I really really really really wanna write some Lawlu and AceMarco fics/prompts problem is I have no idea what to write !!! If anyone has any ideas they wanna share send them to my inbox I would appreciate it thank you ^^

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[667-darkavenue]

young legends die all the time (part one.)

i havent shared any of my writing in a while so in my traditional style, i’ll share a WIP in the middle of the night. this is an allurance gang au. despite the title, no one actually dies.

The royal families were something of a myth for Lance when he was growing up.

“Never cross that street,” his mom hissed, squeezing the wrist she’d just yanked him back by.

“Why?” he whined, from both pain and petulance.

“If the Witch sees little boys from our side of town, she steals them and eats them.” She said it like a matter of fact. “Our side is safe.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause the King watches over us, papi.”

The parents of this torn city desperately needed some way to hammer in hard lessons to their children without breaking their innocence. When he was older, Lance would wonder if that’s the reason why everything to do with the royal families was given such whimsical language. But while he was a kid, it totally worked.

“Wanna play Druids and Paladins?” His friends would ask in the schoolyard.

The children flipped a penny to decide who would play the leaders, then the pretend-Witch and pretend-King would choose their teams. Sometimes the weapons were water balloons, or nerf guns, or just two fingers pointed at their opponents with a ‘Bang!’

This had an unintended consequence their parents didn’t account for. As far back as Lance could remember, he always wanted to be a paladin.

Fresh out of high school, he got a job at the same restaurant as his best friend. Unfortunately, they never saw each other. Hunk worked all the way at the back of the kitchen and Lance didn’t even work inside the place. He stood out front, opened doors to cars that pulled in, and took them to valet parking.

That’s how he became friends with the finest girl in the world.

Within his first few days on the job, a white Bentley pulled into the driveway. An older man sat in the driver’s seat and a cascade of thick hair bent down in the passenger side, probably fishing a purse out from around her feet. Lance opened the door from her side first, offering a hand to help the lady out. She took it with barely glance at him, sweeping a bit of silvery hair out of the way as she slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped out of the car. It was a fancy restaurant with fancy clientele, but something about the casual way people interacted with Lance as if valets weren’t anything out of the ordinary for them never stopped catching him off guard. This girl though. She paused once she was on her feet and got a proper look at him. And he got a good look at her too. Oh shit, she’s gorgeous.

She pulled her hand away from his. “You’re new.”

She’s got an accent!!!!

“You can tell?” Lance’s chest pounded. “What’d I do?”

The smile she gave him was a small one, but it still crinkled the corners of her bright blue eyes. “Nothing.”

Her father, who was also striking to look at, came around from the other side of the car. Side by side, the pair smelled like money and oozed sophistication.

He passed Lance the keys and noted, “You’re new.”

“Yeah,” Lance answered, voice devastated at how obvious it apparently was.

Father and daughter shared an amused look, a silent inside joke, between each other. They didn’t bother to fill Lance in, either. Without a word, they entered the restaurant.

It didn’t take long to get somewhat familiar with them. Her father was a regular there and tipped a ten every time. Naturally, Lance adored him. The dad had to like him back, right?

The restaurant had a round table that was never given to customers under any circumstances, no matter how packed the night was. It was always left open so that just in case that father or his daughter walked in, they could be seated right away. Even if they didn’t show up for ten nights in a row, the table would stay empty. Like they were phantoms of the freaking opera.

They used it now and then for private father-daughter dinners. More often, it was used to hold meetings with all manner of people. People in suits, people in sweats, local government officials, guys with face tattoos. Lance got a signal from the hostess whenever the round table’s dinner was drawing to a close, so that their Bentley would be ready and waiting the moment they stepped outside. All the other normal customers needed to hand Lance a ticket and stand outside while he fetched their car.

One night, the finest girl in the world stepped out early. The swoosh of the front door brought the chatter of the restaurant outside. Lance’s heart jumped into his throat when he realized it was her.

“Oh! Sorry, I don’t have your car ready,” He blurted, a little flustered. “Romelle usually gives me a sign to get ready for you guys.”

The door swung closed behind her, muffling the din inside and leaving them alone in the dim stillness of the driveway. “It’s alright. We aren’t leaving.”

She walked a few steps closer to the edge of the driveway, looking out at the road. Lance had no idea what she was doing or what he was supposed to be doing. A silent pause stretched between them.

She looked back toward him. “What is the sign?”

“The wha?” “You said you get a signal when she knows we’re finishing up.”

“Oh. It’s—Uh—Kind of a joke.”

She raised her eyebrows, urging him on without a word.

“She says,” Lance reluctantly admitted, “The british are coming.”

He laughed halfway through, ‘cause it was so dumb.

It got a chuckle out of the finest girl in the world, as well. “But she’s British as well.”

“I know,” Lance snorted.

He could see the round table through the restaurant’s front window if he stood in the right spot. Lance craned his neck to scope out the situation. Her dad was still sitting down over coffee with three old white guys.

“Things get awkward at the table or what?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just so boring I wanted to fall asleep on the tablecloth. I think some fresh air will wake me up.” Her heels clacked on the pavement as she paced in small circles.

“Yeah, I feel that. You have no idea how much time I spend just waiting out here by myself.”

“At least it’s not stressful.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine. I think I’d rather be doing something stressful, but c’est la vie.” “You should’ve been a waiter, then.”

“I tried, but I had no serving experience. So they turned me down and offered this instead.”

She crossed her arms and stepped a little closer. “What experience do you have?”

Lance started listing them with his fingers. “I’m a good driver, good talker—”

“Oh, are you?” “You’re still here, so better than those guys.” With a jerk of his chin, Lance pointed with his lips to the inside of the restaurant.

She looked at her father’s table with the smallest curl lingering at the corner of her lips. She looked back at Lance. “I’m Allura, by the way.”

“I’m Lance.”

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“You didn’t get very far in listing your skills.”

“Oh, right.” Lance lifted a third finger and continued, “Good kisser...”

She rolled her eyes and raised a hand over her mouth to cover another laugh.

The sound emboldened Lance. “Any chance I could get your number, Allura?”

“Oh, of course.”

His entire face lit up.

She reached into her purse, but did not pull out her phone. In her hand was the valet slip, held between two fingers.

“We’re number twenty five.” She grinned, a little bit playful and a little bit wicked.

Lance’s favorite nights were when Allura came in. If work slowed down, he’d slink over to the window and watch her sip illegal champagne from her flute. Not in, like, a creepy way. There was just something nice about getting to see the finest girl in the world on a somewhat regular basis. This kind of serene, sighing, ‘ahhhhh’ feeling behind his ribs. Not unlike the way it feels to get a nice long look at the ocean on a clear day.

On a good night, Allura would come outside while her dad was still wrapping up conversation at the table or having long, drawn-out goodbyes at the entrance. She’d lean against the car and talk to Lance until it was time to go.

He asked her out once. She said no. He asked her if she was sure the next night. She said yes. But she still liked to come out and talk to him for a few minutes after dinner, so no harm done.

Sometimes she came in without her dad at all, to have some drinks with her friends around the end of Lance’s shift. She’d beckon him inside to join them when closing time was near and her table was the only one still occupied. He had to drive her back home once. Of course, that meant he needed to leave her car there and walk forty minutes back to his own home at midnight. But that was fine. Lance lived on the nice side of town. The side where crime just didn’t happen. Parents could let their children play outside while they cleaned inside. Girls could walk home alone at night. People who tried to start shit mysteriously disappeared. And the victims who got messed with were always paid back for their losses in mysterious ways.

When he was thirteen, someone broke into Lance’s home. After a sweep of the house, his mom’s jewelry box and his dad’s one nice watch were the only things missing. There wasn’t much else worth taking. His parents blamed themselves for thinking they didn’t need better security than a lock on the door. A few days after they filed the police report, his mom got a call directly from the local pawn shop. They had all her missing jewelry and the watch and wanted to return it to her, free of charge. She had to go pick it up directly from the shop. Not the police station.

Anyway, everyone’s tragic stories took place far from the restaurant’s neighborhood. The muggings, the assaults, the missing persons—All of it happened beyond the streets his mother had told him never to cross.

But after a year of working there, something happened.

That one familiar Bentley pulled up to the restaurant in something of a hurry. Lance had never seen Allura’s dad brake hard before. He opened the passenger door for her, as always. He offered his gloved hand to help her step out of the car, then closed it behind her and went around the hood to take the keys from her father.

Alfor gripped Lance’s arm when he passed the keys. “Don’t take any cars you don’t recognize tonight. Tell them we are closed for a private event.”

“Sure. You got it.”

“There’s something for you in the glove compartment. I want you to take it and hold onto it.”

He nodded and tried not to look as puzzled as he felt. Alfor gave him a pat on the back and finally released Lance’s arm. A little frazzled, Lance hopped into the driver’s seat and immediately reached for the glove compartment.

The passenger door flung open and Allura dove into the seat. “Wait!”

She slammed both hands over Lance’s, shoving the compartment shut before he could take a look inside. She kept one hand there while the other scrambled to clumsily shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Lance was getting nervous and his voice was rising.

“You don’t need to get involved.” Allura gently pried his fingers away from the glove compartment handle. She shifted to sit sideways so that her body could face him. She clutched his hand in both of hers. “You can walk away. Nothing will happen to you.”

“Walk away from...? What is in there?”

Her eyes were so bright and they gave Lance an intense look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning of at all. “Allura. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I know. It’s not fair.”

“But I wanna be involved.” God, his palm was probably getting sweaty between her soft hands. “I wanna be your friend. I want to be here when something’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Look, there’s literally nothing that would make me walk away from you right now. Or ever.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

“Lance, that is…” Allura released his hand. “Just… So unwise.”

“No, it isn’t!”

She scoffed, a helpless little huff of breath through her nostrils.

“What’s in there?” He asked again.

Slowly, Allura reached out and pulled the glove compartment open. It was empty except for a swathe of blue velvet cloth wrapped around something. Lance leaned over and reached across Allura, into the compartment. He unfolded the cloth in his lap, revealing a gorgeous, ornate pistol. The kind known members of the royal family’s paladins were rumored to carry around. The King’s crest was gilded into the handle. It might as well have been a legend to Lance.

part two ==>

[cherryyharryy]

Gothic Musings

1. “The sun doesn’t like it.”

“Doesn’t like what?”

“When you stare. Look what happened to the moon.”

2. You get stung by a bee, and the person next to you says, “Oh…you’re one of them.”

3. The neighbors are burning their leaves, but you smell something else.

4. Don’t ever pick up pennies off the ground. There’s a man who lives in the shadows, only visible at night when his eyes are glowing. During the day there’ll be pennies on the sidewalk. He leaves them, hoping someone will stop long enough. Don’t pick up the pennies, he wants to come out.

5. You’re moving into a new, small town in the Midwest. Corn fields all around and a pink sky up above. When you stop for gas at a local station, the man at the register stands on his toes to look over the shelves and out the window before handing you your change.

“Thanks,” you say.

The man nods, twisting the toothpick in his mouth. “S'probably best you stay in your car tonight when it breaks down out on the main road.”

“Wha-”

“Just stay in the car.”

6. There’s a bird that taps at your window every morning, at the same time, no matter the season.

7. Every evening you tear up a few slices of bread into tiny pieces and toss them over your back deck, for the birds. When you wake up the bread is always gone.

One night you wake up at around two and go down to the kitchen to get a drink. It’s dead silent in your house, until you hear the leaves crunch outside. It’s too dark to see from the window, so you step out on the deck, flashlight in hand. There is a scrawny, pale man, hunched over and picking up the bread .

8. It’s really sad how the Earth gets so close to death every year, only to fail and come back to life.

What torture.

9. You get a letter in the mail, no address or respondent. When you open it it’s nothing but muddy bird tracks all over the page. You throw it away, thinking nothing of it. That night when you’re laying in bed you can hear something that sounds like it’s on the roof.

You brush it off, only it gets louder, and the sound of tapping and fluttering becomes more distinct. Finally you get fed up and grab a flash light and dash outside. When you get out there and turn to face your house, the light in your hand starts to shake.

There’s hundreds of ravens swarmed all over the roof and in the trees, and they’ve all stopped moving and turned to face you, a few last rumple of feathers from a few before it’s dead silent.

10. Every night you toss the extra, decorative pillows from your bed to the corner on the floor, along with the thin quilt that makes it too hot to sleep. When you wake up one morning all of the pillows are arranged, and the blanket is laid out where someone had been sleeping.

11. The train can be heard miles away. It sounds of midnight thunder and reeks of old leather. The town quiets down as soon as the first whistle blows. Children stop laughing, dogs stop barking. Even the birds stay silent. The rumbling gets louder. It’s vibrations pound their way to your nerves. The smoke spilling out cycles faster and faster the closer it gets. Once the last car passes through everyone sighs and clutches their heart, wiping their brow and drawing a cross over their chest. It’s a good day when the train doesn’t stop.

12. There’s always been hushed talk through the town to stay out of the cornfields. There’s rumors that the scarecrows will lure you closer and then they’ll untie themselves from their posts.

You always obey. At least you think you do. This morning there were shreds of hay in your bed.

13. The sky turns pink in the late afternoons. By evening it’s orange. Right before the sun sets and the moon comes out to play, it turns red. A deep, syringe-filled crimson red.

14. The city shuts down every night before the street lamps flicker on. People go home and stores close. The local gas stations and motels turn the ‘24 hour’ sign around. The streets and roads are empty. Families gather at the windows, not the t.v.

15. The first weekend in your new neighborhood you’re invited to a BBQ. You don’t know why; there’s a heavy mist in the air and the fog had swept over the backyard. It’s only three in the afternoon and the full moon is out. Everyone is talking about Dan.

“Dan was a good man, the best.”

“Worked really hard.”

“Smart, too.”

“Do you want any more ribs?”

16. You stop by the small grocery store on your first day in a new town. The man at the cash register asks you how you like it so far, where you’re from, so on.

“You know the rules, right?”

“Rules? What rules?”

“The rules. Always carry salt with you. Bless the animals in the fields as you drive by. You will be eating them one day, after all. Don’t give your neighbor a spare key.”

“Wha-”

“And don’t look out the window at night.”

“Why?”

“Just don’t. Once you do you won’t be able to stop.

17. "Summers are the worst in small towns.”

“Why?”

“They’re so lonely.”

“There’s a bon fire down the road, I can hear people screaming, must be a good one.”

“That’s not a bon fire.”

“But I can see the flam-”

“That’s not a bon fire.”

18. The graves are all unmarked. It’s better this way. If the dead knew who they were they might come out.

19. Everyone praises the steakhouse in the city. They get dressed up, dowse themselves in their finest perfumes and slip on diamonds and pearls. They’re stunned, eyeing the others when you say you’ve never been.

So when you decide to go, you regret wearing heels. You didn’t know you’d have to step out the back and pick your own dinner wandering around the fenced yard, heels sinking into the grass after the fresh rain.

“Where are they?” You ask.

“Mm,” the owner hums, “just give 'em a minute. Always a little skittish after the rain.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t care to get their feet wet with mud, too used to wearin’ shoes their whole life.”

20. You turn the portraits around to face the wall every night so you can get a decent night’s sleep. It doesn’t drown out their static talk, but at least you don’t have to worry about them touching you.

[aeivyen]

Be Mine, Valentine

“Okay, remember not to come out of your room until I come and pick you up on the 15th, alright? I don’t want anything to happen to you two,” Steph lectured Anthony and Drew when they made it to Anthony’s room. She was holding onto Drew’s sleeve and a bag full of art supplies, he was carrying another two. 

“Yes Miss Steph.” Drew grinned, bumping into Anthony’s shoulder as the two giggled. She only hoped there was enough there to keep the two entertained, but Anthony wasn’t the mischievous type anyways. 

B tapped her arm as the two vanished into Anthony’s room. “Do you want me to do your makeup first?” They bounced, rattling the bags of makeup in their own hands.

She sighed, offering a worried smile down at the small barista. “How about you do yours first so I know what you’re gonna do to me.” 

“Have you ever done makeup before?”

“No, I haven’t tried a lot of things.” She explained as they let her into their room. “In some ways, I’m catching up to you and Anthony. But that’s okay.”

B thought for a long moment. “Do you want to try cooking? You can come try cooking with me and Brent and Kyle sometime. Yeah you should come do that sometime! It’ll be so fun!”

“Ehhh, maybe,” she grit her teeth, wondering why the idea made the flies startle in her chest; she and Kyle were friends, and she got along with Brent alright. “Why don’t you show me what all of the makeup is?”

~~

“Okay, can I look now?”

“No! I still haven’t done your lipstick yet!” B chided, clicking their tongue playfully as they tried to swatch colors against her arm; they were running out of space, and only an unfortunately small number of samples were even visible against her dark skin.

Steph cracked her eyes open to look at her arm. “Do you need to switch to the other one?”

“No peeking!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughed, shaking her head and shutting her eyes tightly again. “I did like that purple one, though.”

“Mmm,” they hummed, “it’s one of the few that even show up.”

“Just use that one then. The makeup is mostly for you; it works on your skin tone better.” She soothed. “Besides, I like purple.”

“Okay, open a little so I can put it on.” She did as she was told, and B gently applied the waxy substance to her lips. After a moment they paused, examining their work and reaching into their apron to grab a napkin to fix the details a little.

Their hand shook slightly when they pulled out a heart shaped card, eyes wide as they quietly opened it: B mine Valentine. It was identical to the one Dylan had burned for them. “S-Steph?”

She opened her eyes. “Wha- B! How did you-?” She snatched it from their hand. “B where did you get a valentine?”

“Dylan burned that flyer! With fire! I watched him!”

“Oh Void,” tearing it up, she went to the sink to rinse the pieces down the drain; there wouldn’t be anything in here to burn it with. “Okay B, it’s okay. I’m getting rid of it again, and things should be fine,” her voice cracked with worry. 

There was singing coming from down the hall. She checked her watch: it was just past midnight, just barely Valentines Day. Usually these days were uneventful!

“Steph,” B whined, and she hugged them.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll be fine,” she whispered, trying to soothe them by petting their hair as the singing got closer; some out of tune song about -- love? A love song?

She almost thought it was going away when there was a crash, then a quiet yelp from next door. “Anthony!” B wriggled out of her arms, bolting for the door until she caught them by the string of their apron.

“B stay here! I’ll go check on them!”

“Steph!”

“No. Stay here!” She ordered, running out and slamming the door behind her just in time to see something heading down the hall, Anthony and Drew draped over the inscrutable mass. “Anthony!”

“Steph!”

“Two Baristas sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g~” it sang as it weaved around the halls, so fast it was hard to keep up with.

“Both of you close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you to!” She called out, trying to think of a quicker route down to the first floor, where she might be able to cut the thing off. “Oh Void. Oh Void.”

She ran to the fire escape at the end of the hall; it would take her to the ground, but she’d still have to run around the building to meet up with it at the entrance. She only hoped she’d be fast enough.

Before she made it through the window, however, she spotted something she always passed by without thought: an axe, trapped behind a glass pane, in a metal box on the wall. The inscription, in deep red font, in front of it read simply: Break Glass, You Know You Want To.

Gritting her teeth against the pain she knew was to come, Steph jammed her elbow into the thin pane, yanking the axe out before climbing out onto the fire escape. 

Night Vale seemed pleasantly quiet, except for the jovial singing of that many-voiced creature carrying away Anthony and Drew. As much as they tried to writhe out of its grasp, it held them too firmly; and they were blind anyway if they could manage to get free.

“Steph!”

“I’m coming!” She huffed, thankful it had decided to swing around the building in her direction. “Hey! Let go of them!” It didn’t seem to pay her any notice, leaving behind a trail of blood and organs as it came closer and closer to passing her. “I said let go of them!”

Steph swung the axe, and it screeched; something like a cat, and like a needle being pulled off a vinyl record. The two young baristas screamed as they were dropped, crawling and huddling together, unable to open their eyes as it closed in on Steph now.

It batted at her, and she ran down the street to draw it away from the two first levels as the abuse continued to be hurdled against her back. They weren’t to the next corner before it caught her by her hair, almost picking her off the ground as she kicked and swung out at it.

More screeching, and it flung her down hard against the pavement before limping away. She watched it go with blurred vision as the pain started setting into her body, and she picked herself up. “Anthony! Drew! Are you okay?”

“Steph,” they whined, and she hurried over.

“Don’t open your eyes yet,” Steph helped them up. “Let’s get into the building first. Are you okay; are you hurt?”

“Not really hurt. Steph what was that?”

“I don’t know.” She guided them into the building, holding them tightly under each arm. “We found a Valentine in B’s apron, and then it showed up and took you. I’ve never seen anything like that happen before. Not in the District.”

She took them carefully all the way to B’s room, and they were hugged as soon as they entered the threshhold. “Anthony! Drew! You’re okay!”

“You can open your eyes now.” She prompted, letting go of them as she closed the door and pulled away from B; she was tender to touch, and her scraped elbow still leaked coffee into her torn up sleeve.

“Steph are you okay!”

“I’m fine, B. Please try to calm down,” she went over to the window, but it was too high for the little Barista to have seen out of. Even so, she checked out it and gave a sigh of relief; it was looking out the opposite street. “Ugh,” she touched her hair. “B do you have scissors?”

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to make a bandage for my arm, and then we’re gonna cut whatever gunk this is out of my hair. Okay?” She did her best to speak calmly, so the younger Baristas had a chance of calming down.

“Do you think it’ll come back?” Anthony sniffed, and Drew hugged her.

“No, I think I hurt it. It’ll stay away.” She soothed, then thanked B as they handed her a set of scissors.

This was going to be a long Valentines Day.

[haruxyoshioka]

Every Hero Starts Somewhere - TCR Secret Santa for @raythecomputerart

Merry Christmas @raythecomputerart!! I was your secret santa, and the moment I saw Teen Titans on your list, I knew what I was writing. It kind of got away from me so it’s pretty long but I hope you enjoy it!

She was a bit nervous, if she was being honest. She hadn’t really been on her own, but she’d always known what she wanted to be. She’d tried to hide the secret from her mother as long as she could, but there was only so many ways she could cover up the bruises and the added muscle she was putting on. She’d had to come clean to her mother, that she had been training, that she was working under a superhero. A superhero who was, like herself, just a normal human being with no special powers or abilities, aided only by special tools designed to help her keep up with the rest of the superheroes. 

Persephone was a kind hearted woman with a backbone of steel on her, and family funds to back up her high tech tools. By day she was the soft hearted but stone heiress who gave away half of her money to charities and people in need, and by night, she was Midnight, a hero whose name alone made some of the more hardened criminals in the city shiver in fear. 

Haru’s origins were nowhere near as dark or stressful as some heroes had--Persephone herself had lost both of her parents when she was younger. Haru was normal in every since of the word. She’d lost her father early on, and barely remembered him. There was a hazy father shaped hole in her memories, along with boxes of fish crackers. Her mother worked hard to support them, and made a name for herself in the craft world as Haru got older.

But with high school almost done, and college looming on the horizon, the teen felt the pressure to decide her future creeping up on her. Her dream since she was a little girl had been to help people, fascinated by the stories of heroes in the news--but no supernatural abilities or powers had ever manifested, and she tried not to be disappointed...until she heard about Midnight. Her hope had been renewed, and she threw herself into what basic training she could manage. She told her mother she was just trying to get in better shape, to be healthier and do better in P.E. But really, she just wanted to somehow convince Midnight to take her on as a sidekick, to help her become a hero like her. 

She’d told her as much, one night, after a chance encounter on the roof of her apartment building. Haru had been stargazing, something that helped ease her stress when she couldn’t draw, and Midnight had all but tumbled to the roof’s surface in front of her, bleeding. 

The brunette had panicked, and quickly raced to grab the first aid kit and bandages and did her absolute best to help her hero. Midnight had been touched by her words, though she warned it was a dangerous profession, as the gash in her side attested to, but Haru was nothing if not stubborn and determined. She was working hard, she wanted to make a difference. She wanted to believe someone like her, powerless and normal, could be a hero to someone else, just like Midnight was. That was what finally convinced Midnight--Haru’s impassioned plea, and she promised that when she was healed, she would see what she could do. 

She still couldn’t believe everything had worked out, but Haru had succeed. Training was hard, but she stuck to the schedule her mentor made for her--and she still couldn’t believe that Midnight and Persephone were the same person. She became Sparrow, Midnight’s small, but equally fierce sidekick...until the League was formed and Midnight became a part of it. But she trusted Haru to continue to watch over the city, and call for help if things ever got too hard. 

It was pretty tough, if she was being honest, but things were quiet--until that night. It had been a routine bank robbery, or at least, it was supposed to be. But everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. The criminal in question was a bulky young man with some sort of werecat ability, and super strength to top it all off. He’d already bent her staff when he’d punched her through the window. Luckily her suit prevented her from getting any serious injuries, and she was thanking the powers that be that she’d had the foresight to ask Midnight to make sure she had a hood. 

“Yer gonna have to try harder than that, chicky,” the man-cat grinned at her, cream colored fur almost glowing in the light of the full moon and the dim emergency lights in the bank. He towered over her, almost three whole feet on her measly five feet and three inches. 

Haru grimaced and pushed herself back onto her feet, also glad she had a spare staff. Luckily for her, her mentor taught her well. She drew the weapon from her belt and tightened her grip around the staff as it extended a few more feet, and settled into her fighting stance. “Didn’t I tell you,” she began cheekily with more confidence than she felt, “we’re just getting warmed up!” 

And then everything went to hell in a hand-basket. 

A car suddenly picked itself up off the payment and rocketed toward the criminal, the force almost knocking Haru off her feet while the robber threw himself to the ground as the car smashed into the bank.

“Oh, I missed,” came a new voice, sounding oddly cheery despite the damage they’d just caused. “That’s funny, considering how big of a target I had.”

Haru whipped her head around to stare at the dark skinned teen, dressed head to toe in a black cloak that she vaguely noted resembled bird wings. She’d never seen him before, though it wasn’t unheard of for other heroes to pass through the city and take on crime while they were here but it usually wasn’t people close to her age. A year or two older, if she had to guess?

“Aw great, another one?” the cat beast groused as he pushed himself back up, glaring at the two heroes. “This is just not my night.” He was getting hungry too, dammit. 

“You looked like you were having a hard time,” the hooded stranger said, addressing Haru this time. “Sparrow, right? I heard Midnight joined the League.”

“I, uh, yeah. That’s right,” Haru responded dumbly, wondering why he was trying to strike up such a casual conversation in the middle of a fight. Did he really think so little of the man she was trying to apprehend? 

“I’m still here, birdbrain!” the robber snapped, yanking the door off of the definitely totaled car and hurling it at the two. 

Haru yelped and jumped aside, but the door froze in midair before it could collide with the stranger. When he smiled, it was all teeth. 

“Looks like the kitty’s got a hairball in his brain,” he remarked casually, lightly, as if he were talking to an old friend. Haru realized his hand was extended, and with the barest flick of his wrist, the car door went flying back at the young man who threw it. 

“GO FRY YOURSELF, YOU BIG CHICKEN!” the cat yowled as he dodged, moving surprisingly fast for someone of his size. 

“Do....you two know each other?” Haru realized with a start, glancing between the two. 

“Something like that,” the hooded stranger replied. “We’ve got a bit of a history. Meet Renaldo Moon, petty thief and vigilante. Ah, perhaps Moota is more accurate now.”

A vein throbbed in the cat-man’s forehead and he snarled. “Moo?!” 

The stranger almost doubled over with his laughter. “He actually said it! Oh, still as empty headed as ever!” He had to stop abruptly and dodge as Renaldo Moon suddenly lunged forward, swiping at his head with a large paw. “I’m Toto, by the way! All the bird names were taken, it seems.” 

“N...Nice to meet you..?” Haru offered uncertainly. This was certainly the strangest night she’d had since her mentor had been gone. But she had to shake off her stupor, she was in the middle of a fight. Getting distracted would only make things worse. 

Taking a deep breath, she rushed forward, using her staff as an extension of her arm, the way she’d been taught and tried to land a blow to Renaldo’s stomach but he swiveled, the back of his paw catching her across the face and knocking her off balance as her staff narrowly avoided hitting Toto in the stomach. Oh, this was so not going the way she’d planned. 

“That’s no way to treat a lady, you know,” Toto supplied unhelpfully, and Haru felt an invisible force slowly lift her back onto her feet. Superpowers really were handy, weren’t they? 

“Thanks,” she nodded, focusing her attention on the robber once more. 

Between the two of them, this guy was going to be hard to take down. He was surprisingly fast and light on his feet, not to mention stronger than he needed to be. It was kind of annoying, and being a normal human, there was only so many super strong hits she could take before she needed a break. Even if Toto had telekinetic abilities...wait a minute. That gave her an idea.

“Toto!” she called, “can you restrain him somehow?” 

His grin returned in full force. “I would love to,” he answered with a nod. 

“Just try it,” Renaldo snarled, flexing his paws, still snarling. 

Toto raised his hands and exhaled slowly, and the car slowly lifted itself out of the bank entrance and began to bend. A single gesture was all it took for the wreckage of the car to fling itself at the robber, and Haru winced at the sound of creaking metal as the car bent itself around the burly robber. But it seemed to work, at least, as they watched him struggle against his bonds.

“That should hold him,” Toto noted, giving Renaldo Moon a smug look. 

“Thanks for the help,” Haru smiled wryly, leaning on her staff. “Not that I could do much.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You did remarkably well for....ah, that’d be rude of me, wouldn’t it?” he winced.

Haru smiled and shook her head. “It’s alright. I know there’s only so much someone like me can do but...even so, I still want to try.” 

“You’re very noble, Miss Sparrow. I can see why Midnight took you on.” 

“Wha? Nooo, no, I just got lucky. Really stupidly lucky,” Haru laughed and waved her hand. 

“You really think that’s all it is?” Toto asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Before Haru could answer, both froze when they heard the sound of bolts popping, metal groaning. Haru’s eyes widened, and Toto muttered a curse under his breath and as if on cue, Renaldo Moon burst from the bent and mangled car with a fearsome roar. 

“....His strength is really ridiculous,” Toto sighed. “Honestly, it’s not even super strength. He’s just got so much lard.” 

If it had been any other situation, Haru would have laughed, but now they had a problem on their hands. Instead, she shared Toto’s sigh. 

“You know, this is not how I imagined this night going,” she stated. She really wanted to go home and take a bath and curl up with a good book. Didn’t seem like that was going to happen any time soon though. “Would it be too convenient to hope for someone to just drop from the sky and knock him out?” she asked.

There was a moment of silence and Toto blinked, staring up at the sky. “I think you ought to be careful what you wish for, Sparrow,” he replied. 

Haru followed his gaze, and her jaw dropped. Streaking across the sky was something that looked like a meteor but it was quickly approaching them. 

“Now what?” Renaldo snapped, scowling up at whatever was streaking toward him, and then suddenly he was on the ground as the object slammed into him, sending him rolling down the street. 

Toto and Haru shared an equally confused look  before hurrying over. The object was revealed to be a person, dressed impeccably in a crisp white suit and red vest. Even a top hat? It looked like he’d stepped out of some period drama. Everything about him seemed too perfect. Emerald green eyes glittered like gemstones, and he was seated on Renaldo’s back, looking equally confused.

“Talk about Deus Ex Machina,” Toto blinked, scratching his head. 

“Quite sorry to interrupt. Once I entered the atmosphere it was rather hard to adjust my course,” the male smiled apologetically, and Haru felt like even that was dazzling. Every move seemed dashing and gentlemanly, even as he smoothly rose to his feet. 

“Wow, you’re cool,” she breathed, then caught herself, cheeks burning as she shook her head. “Um. Don’t worry about it,” she continued, tugging at her hood in her embarrassment. “I was just thinking it’d be convenient if someone fell from the sky and...well, there you were.” It was kind of like fate, but she was not going to admit that out loud. 

He looked relieved to hear that, and bowed with a flourish. “I am glad that I was able to assist such a fetching heroine,” he smiled as he straightened. “I am called Baron, a Creation. I came with my older sister, but it appears we were separated, but it’s fortunate that I landed here, if it was any assistance to the both of you.” 

Aliens weren’t exactly uncommon in the world of superheroes, but it was still her first time meeting one in person. Still, he looked incredibly human, save for his cat like eyes, which she only noticed once he was close enough. 

Realizing she was staring, she coughed awkwardly and ducked her head, scuffing her boot against the pavement. “I’m um, Sparrow. Midnight’s sidekick. This is Toto.” 

“Nice to meet you, Baron,” he smiled cheerily. “And congratulations on knocking over the bowling pin.” 

“Are you two working together?” Baron asked, tilting his head to the side. Another very catlike move, and Haru wondered what the odds were of running into two cat-people in the same night. 

“No, though that’s not a bad idea,” Toto mused aloud, tapping his chin. “It’s better to have a network of heroes to rely on, just in case.”

“...I am more used to working with other people,” Haru admitted. It was far easier than fighting alone, as she’d been reminded tonight. “Forming a team isn’t a bad idea at all.” 

Baron smiled, and once again Haru felt a bit weak in the knees. She was so in over her head, wasn’t she? 

“If you’re forming a team, would it be alright with you if I joined you?” he asked. “It would be best, I think, if I were to experience this planet’s culture first hand. My sister is planning on joining the League anyway, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if someone was...keeping me out of trouble, so to speak.” 

Toto grinned and nodded. “That’s alright with me, if it’s alright with Sparrow here.” 

Her heart gave a funny little kick and she almost choked on her words. “Y-yeah, um. Yeah. That’s fine with me.” 

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to working with the both of you,” Baron said as he extended his hand to her. Shyly, she reached forward and shook his hand. 

A loud groan reminded them all that Renaldo Moon was still there, and he was still unrestrained. The three tensed, preparing to resume the fight, and Haru hoped it’d be much easier with three people against the burly male. 

But all he did was haul himself out of the crater and sit down, still scowling. “I give, I give,” he huffed, propping his chin up on his his paw. “I just ain’t cut out for this.”

“This is....too easy,” Haru murmured, furrowing her brows. Beneath her mask, she squinted at the large cat-man. “You’re seriously giving up?”

“There’s worse than me out here, chicky,” he sighed. “It’s been a hell of a night, and honestly? I just want it to be over. If it gets that King bastard off my back, I’m more than happy to turn myself in.”

The air went still as Haru’s eyes widened. “King...?” she repeated. She knew the name, Midnight had warned her before she left. She wasn’t supposed to take him on, she was supposed to let her know if she heard anything. The League would handle him. It’d be too much for her, Midnight had said. She’d looked so stressed and worried, paler than usual when she passed the information on to Haru, and she still wondered why. It couldn’t be that he was just a fearsome villain. There was more fear in her mentor’s eyes than any villain had ever put there. 

She bit her lip and clenched her fists. “About that King guy, do you mind telling me what you know about him?” she asked. 

Renaldo frowned and squinted at her, scrutinizing her. “There ain’t no way you can take him on, chicky. Even with the three of you. The guy’s insane. He’d even put his own son in harm’s way if it got him what he wanted.” 

An idea formed in her mind. Reckless and stupid, but hopelessly brave--something Midnight had told her before, praising Haru’s reckless bravery but also chastising the very same recklessness. It wouldn’t always work out, she warned, be careful of your decisions. 

Haru smiled and offered her hand to the exhausted robber. “All the more reason to help us out, right?” she asked. “I mean, if you’re helping out heroes, you’ll be given a lighter sentence, maybe even pardoned, right?” She saw his ear twitch, though he wasn’t looking at her now, and she knew she had his interest. “Join up with us, and I’ll see if I can get some strings pulled.” 

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea?” Toto asked, frowning at Renaldo. 

“Honestly no, but...Midnight was worried about this King guy when she left. There’s gotta be something we can do right? All four of us?” Haru answered. 

Renaldo was silent, then slowly rose to his feet, placing his paw in Haru’s hand almost reluctantly. “Don’t regret those words, chicky,” he grinned. “And call me Muta.” 

It was probably the most ragtag team of heroes she could have chosen. Her, with no powers, clever and witty Toto, a former criminal, and a gentlemanly alien. But that night, Haru felt more excited to be a hero than she’d ever been. She paused as the sky began to lighten, the sun slowly rising over the horizon, the first rays of sun washing over them. It seemed fitting to watch the sunrise like this. 

“Well team,” she began, turning to face the others with a bright smile on her face. “The next step is to get our own base of operations, right?” 

“If you don’t mind, I think I know the perfect place,” Toto supplied. “A sanctuary, I guess. It’s a hidden plaza, past the Crossroads. I hang out there all the time, no one ever comes back there. It’s close enough in town, and hidden enough that we don’t have to worry about any breaches.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Haru nodded. “Much better than a...oh, I don’t know...a T shaped building in the middle of the bay?” Surely no one would ever be that dumb, right?

It wasn’t at all the way she’d planned for this to go..but you know what? It had turned out much better than she’d ever expected. They faced a new day, united, and ready for whatever would come their way.

[deepwithinmybonesfic]

Deep Within My Bones Ch 10- Hospital

AU. Viktor wins another gold at the Olympics, and attends the Paralympics as another duty as the King of Ice Skating. Having lost his inspiration and heart, Viktor did not expect to find love in what he sees as the perfect man. Yuuri, after losing his legs, lost his chance to compete on the same ice as his idol. When the world seems to fall into place, what else can be taken away from them? Ch 1-6 is Setup, start at Ch. 6 for the cute romance-y and drama

“Hospital? Why hospital? You said you felt better…” Viktor couldn’t even muster the energy to whine. He just felt tight. His throat, his chest. It hurt, and he had no idea if it was because of little Yuri, or because of what was happening to his Yuuri.

“What’s going on with your boyfriend.”  Yuri had been quiet until then, and had given them space… but not forgiveness apparently.

“I don’t know. They’re making him go to the hospital.” Viktor didn’t have time to worry about his relationship with his protégé right now… outside of finding a place to put him.

“My dad will drop you off at home before we go to the hospital.” Yuuri left his conversation with his mother, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. “It’s a long drive to Fukuoka.”

“Fukuoka?!” Viktor shrunk back, when he realized he had been surprised and loud enough that everyone turned to look back at him. Even Yuri, who was being shooed into the back row of the van. “Why so far? What about the clinic you brought me to when I got a cold?”

Yuuri stared at his feet.

Somehow, this felt more like than just his nerves.

It was easy to forget that Yuuri was a little different. Why he had been at the special Olympics and not the main events….

“ My doctor is based in Fukuoka. Clinics are general doctors.” He licked his dry lips. “My mom is worried that the cancer I had when I was in the junior league is coming back.”

“Cancer? I thought you were in a car accident or something,” Viktor lost his tact as he felt the pit of his stomach turn icy. Cancer. Cancer? Yuuri had run with him every morning, done every skate Viktor had asked him to try. There was no way Yuuri was sick.

“No.” Yuuri still couldn’t look up at him, his dark hair in his eyes. “I ignored what was going on, thinking it was part of skating. I decided it was better to lose my feet and skate with prosthetics than try and fix my feet.” His shoulders were shaking, and his cheeks were wet.

Viktor pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Yuuri, tucking his head under his chin. “I’m glad you kept skating.”

“There’s nothing else I’m good at, anyway.” Yuuri’s voice wobbled, weak and losing its strength.

“You were good enough to bring me to Japan.” Viktor moved with Yuuri as his mother came to shoo him into the van. Yuuri slouched into him once they were in the van, Yuuko talking with Mama Katsuki just outside the car.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Viktor said, pushing back his long bangs. He paused, pulling back his hand and staring at his own fingers.

They were slick and wet with tears.

“But I want to go to Fukuoka with you.”

---

Viktor didn’t like hospitals in Russia, and he didn’t like Japanese hospitals either. There were no cute mascots or vending machines. The nurses wore uniforms that made them look like they had come out of a cartoon, and they were barely around. Hiroko ended up stepping out a few hours after they arrived, coming back with several bags from the Seven-eleven down the street.

Even though Viktor had been amazed at the freshness and variety from convenience stores, somehow today the katsu curry tasted bland and dry in his mouth. Yuuri had even less of an appetite, only poking at the caramel  custard pudding his mother had gotten for dessert.

It wasn;t that he was nauseous. He had done many sports physicals before, and submitted blood samples to ensure he wasn’t doping. But somehow, watching the four vials of blood being drawn from Yuuri’s arm had shaken him. The way Yuuri hadn’t even blinked when the needle poked him, or when they put a line to draw the blood from. His hand naturally moved to accommodate the oxygen reader, and he didn’t tense when the IV line was put in.

He was quiet.

Mari had facetimed earlier, with Vicchan and Makkachin taking up the screen, but Yuuri was mostly quiet.

Rather than push him, Viktor spent most of his time staring at the chart at the end of the bed and fiddling with his translator app. He had gotten better at isolating the sounds in conversation, and had a ongoing list of words to try out and add to his study list.

Nikiforov-v 18:05  he still isn’t talking

Giacristophe 18:06   you can say something

Nikiforov-v 18:06  then he will just feel bad that he isn’t translating

Giacristophe 18:06    I don’t think he worrys about you right now

Nikiforov-v 18:07   he always does.  That’s why we’re here

Giacristophe 18:07   its  not your fault

Nikiforov-v 18:08   I want to do something

Giacristophe 18:08   you said anemi?

Nikiforov-v 18:08   anemia

Giacristophe 18:08   give  him the blood

Giacristophe 18:42  viktor?

Giacristophe 19:01  don’t go crazy

He looked adorably sleepy when Viktor jumped up and leaned on the end of Yuuri’s hospital bed. “Yuuri! What blood type are you?”

“Wha? Uh, A-type….why?” This had come out of the blue. He knew Viktor wasn’t anywhere near fluent enough to hear what his doctors had said.  There was a shortage on A type donations due to the injuries from a 5.7 earthquake further notice. But with bed rest and  fluids, Yuuri would be fine until the tests came back.

Viktor pumped his fist in the air. “So am I.”

“Oh… that makes sense.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at Viktor.

“What does that mean?” Viktor shrunk back, looking offended, even though he had no idea how.

“Perfectionist.”

“Wouldn’t that be the same for you?” Viktor made a face, secretly glad  that Yuuri was finally talking back.

“I don’t really pay attention to that kind of stuff.” He shrugged, moving the shovel-like mini spoon in his pudding cup. “Why?”

“I can donate to you!”

Yuuri immediately flushed. “No! No, its okay.” Maybe Viktor was more fluent than he gave him credit for.

“No. Please. I want to.”

Yuuri slid down his pile of pillows, refreshingly pink. “Don’t you think… that’s a little… intimate?” he murmured, shrinking under his blanket.

Viktor finally felt like smiling. “I know your blood rushes for me, I should only return the favor!” He chirped with his sweet heart-shaped smile. Yuuri disappeared under the blankets, squawking with embarrassment. Hiroko looked up from her paperback, peering over the edge curiously.

Yuuri immediately sat up, Viktor automatically going up to fix and fluff the pillows behind Yuuri’s back.

“Mama, Viktor wants to donate blood. He’s type A.”

“Oh! Just that?”

Yuuri felt like disappearing under the blankets forever

“Vicchan is so sweet. I’ll tell Yamamoto-sensei when she comes.”

It was more anxiety inducing to be in the hospital without Yuuri than it was sitting uselessly in his room. Even if he was paying attention, he wouldn’t have been able to understand anything the nurses said. They ended up bringing the questionnaire back to Yuuri’s room, and went back to basic English. “Arm” and if he didn’t position it right, they would take it and turn it over.    “Pinch” and he knew to look away until they covered the needle with a piece of fabric tape. When staring at the wall wore out its welcome, he sneaked a peak at the tube coming out of his arm.

He had expected it to be more vibrant, more red, more life-inducing. But it looked more purple than anything, and looking at the tube made his stomach lurch. It was part of his body, and yet it wasn’t.

But it was for Yuuri.

By the time Viktor had realized he wasn’t going anywhere until finishing the juice box with a smiling orange on it, Yuuri had already fallen asleep.

Viktor had offered to use his credit card at the hotel chain next to the hospital, but they had declined. They stopped by 7-11, Yuuri’s father stopping to get a coffee milk, and handing a bottle of Calpis soda and a small brown glass bottle.

“Energy!” He mimed flexing his muscles, before tapping the brown glass bottle. Viktor nodded, grateful for their hospitality and even thinking of him while they left behind their only son in the hospital room. The drink tasted awful, too herbal and grass like, but he downed it all between sips of his favorite yogurt drink. They got back to Yuutopia past midnight, the resort already dark and asleep.  He stopped on his way to his temporary room, the door to Yuuri’s room still open. Makkachin and Vicchan were both on his head, curled around each other in a nest of blankets. As if they knew.

Makkachin lifted her head, staring at him through the twilight.

He joined them for the night.