#Still debating on her perks but that's a wip

[explosivedarling]

Once again I find myself revisiting my Fallout 4 verse and now having actually played it, I feel like my original two passes of this verse are unsatisfying to me. So here's probably the final update to her Fallout 4 verse separated into two first one is following the logic that Toni is the LW/Courier, the second would be following the logic that Toni is neither and follows her Wastelander verse detailed here

Wastelander Verse

Originally from the Capital Wasteland, Antonia hitches a ride with a caravan headed to the Commonwealth, mostly due to a growing wanderlust after her little adventure with the Lone Wanderer, she leaves Rivet City behind with the blessing of her parents.

While she knows her way around a pistol Antonia isn't a fighter normally but can defend herself if push comes to shove and earned her passage through her ability to repair clothing and basic items. Once the caravan arrives in the Commonwealth, she parts ways with them to strike it out on her own where she eventually ends up in Goodneighbor.

Antonia offers her services as both tailor and seamstress to the population at large, she travels to Diamond City a lot and can be encountered there or at Goodneighbor. In Diamond City she has a modest stall in which she offers her services.

She will ask the Sole Survivor if she can join them as she's growing restless sitting around doing textile work and wants to see what else the Commonwealth has to offer, they can choose to decline Toni's offer in which case she goes off on her own regardless of their intervention.

Like other Wastelanders, Toni fears the Institute but still advocates for an evacuation order to be issued and doesn't approve of its destruction without the Sole Survivor doing so, begging them to think about the senseless destruction of lives just because of the actions of a few.

She views the Brotherhood of Steel a lot more charitably than others would because of her experience in the Capital Wasteland and what the Lone Wanderer and by extension the BoS did for the population at large.

━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦━━━━

Canon

Toni stayed in the Mojave for six years before she leaves it all behind having grown restless she returns to the Capital Wasteland where she lives in relative anonymity though it isn't long before people catch wind of her arrival and she's forced to leave again. Toni desires nothing more than to live a quiet life, she leaves the Capital Wasteland once again before the rumors are ever confirmed.

She hitches a ride to the Commonwealth by caravans earning her keep as either a caravan guard or courier. Once she arrives, she settles down very briefly in Bunker Hill before making her way to Diamond City. Once there she establishes a little stall once the Sole Survivor shows up she will ask if she could join them on their journey or pays them to let her join them, though either way the Sole Survivor can choose to turn her down.

Antonia will leave The Sole Survivor's side if they ally themselves to the Brotherhood of Steel, she's doesn't leave unless the following conditions are met: Madison Li is recruited to the Brotherhood. She has no ties to the Railroad outside of helping Harkness out but she is sympathetic towards their cause. Toni also has neutral opinions about The Institute, she will, however, become hostile and leave if The Institute is destroyed without issuing an evacuation order.

Destroying the Railroad also causes her to become immediately hostile once again due to the fact Antonia is vehemently against the wanton destruction of lives.

She offers no companion quest and only vaguely alludes to her adventures in both New Vegas and the Capital Wasteland at high affinity. If taken to the Prydwen or the Boston Airport she will ask to be left behind and seems paranoid at being around the Brotherhood of Steel, passing a difficult speech check allows the Sole Survivor to know that Toni was once affiliated with the BoS and passing another difficult speech check has her being honest about just how deeply involved she was with both East and West Coast chapters though she still won't tell anyone that she was the Lone Wanderer back in the Capital Wasteland and those who were around during her time there may or may not know who she is.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Can I get three lines from fleabag_ask_steddie_angst? :3c

Yes! Heads up, though, it will have next to nothing to do with Fleabag. Mainly because I haven't watched the show yet. I should get on that; it's not very long. This part also isn't very angsty. Anyway.

"Suzie is freaking out."

Steve looked up from the seating list to see Eden stomping inside the dining hall, clutching an enormous package of napkins. She hadn't changed into her heels yet, though her Doc Martens paired quite well with her lilac dress. They certainly helped put that extra frustration into her step.

"How so?" he asked, placing another name card in its spot, next to the crystal glass.

Eden huffed. "She's getting cold feet."

"Wait, how cold?" Steve asked, eyes narrowing. If he'd have to tell Dustin his wedding was off hours before the ceremony...

"Not that cold," Eden hurried to say. "It's the napkins. Two weeks ago, they were perfectly beautiful and everything she wanted. Now, she's convinced they're too blue to match her bouquet and she lost her mind over it. Mom and the others are trying to tell her they're fine and no one will notice if the shades aren't identical. I figured getting these out of her sight," she held up the napkins and wiggled them, "would help."

Then she slammed the package on the table hard enough for the centerpiece to rattle. Glaring at it, she shook her head and sighed.

"I'll never be a maid of honor again. It's too fucking stressful."

"Don't you have at least two more sisters?"

She clamped her lips together, chin jutting, as she visibly swallowed the first and second responses. In the end, what she spat out was "They're on their own."

Steve laughed. "Fair. I'll probably be Robin's best man, too, but then I'm done."

"As if Robin will have anything but a quick courthouse wedding." Eden picked open the plastic packaging with her nail; pulling out a napkin, she began folding it. "How's Dustin holding up?"

"Okay. The kids had the foresight to distract him with science all day. Last time I checked, Erica was debating quantum mechanics with him."

"Great. Good." She sighed again, rubbing her fingertips around her eyes. "Soon, the worst is over and then we can enjoy the party."

He snorted. "Ah, yes. The dry, Mormon party."

She perked up then, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Obviously and suspiciously looking around for spectators, she then leaned down and pulled the tea-length skirt up her thigh, revealing a flask strapped to it.

Steve gasped, theatrical but genuinely pleased.

"Just come find me after," she said with a grin. "We deserve this."

"You're a pearl. Keep this up and the next wedding will be ours."

She cackled. Dropping the skirt, she finished folding the napkin and held it up for inspection. It was the shape of a duck.

"Cute," Steve said.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Clashes with my style, though. If anyone asks, I'll say you made it."

In response, Steve took his own napkin and folded it into a simple flower. Still rather nice-looking considering he hadn't done it in ages. The lilac was especially nice in the middle of the white and gold plates. He gestured to it with a flourish; Eden was kind enough to (sarcastically) applaud.

"That is better," she admitted. "Let's do that instead."

WIP game

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

before my melatonin kicks in, here’s a notes app wip excerpt about my purple bisexuals below the cut! it’s not done, nor is it proofread, but i like them a lot so (: enjoy the scraps while i suffer over real world things

The swallow began fiddling with Omega's back panel, but found herself pausing every few moments due to the undesired attention she was getting. Her client didn't seem to be aware of how obnoxious his staring was, so Wave didn't feel justified to snap at him... but that didn't make things easier.

"Have you ever worked with robots before?" she asked, turning to look at the chameleon.

Espio shook his head, but approached the now exposed wiring; "I've only ever been inside the cyberworld," he explained, trying to make sense of the robot's innards.

Wave blinked a couple times in disbelief, growing more uneasy as the chameleon's statement seemed less and less like a joke.

"It's a long story; Shadow karate-chopped a computer that I couldn't seen to hack and I followed him in," he elaborated, holding back a laugh. Espio knew he sounded insane, but it was amusing to watch the rogue silently ruminate over this bizarre information: it was cruel, but her expressions were priceless.

Turning back to continue assessing the damage, Wave began mumbling nonsense under her breath about the panel being tampered with, which piqued Espio's interest. He didn't ask, as the swallow looked focused, but he was impressed with how familiar the mechanic was with robotics, considering extreme gear was her specialization.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

"The order doesn't matter to me."

Wave sighed, pinching her beak; "Don't be a smartass, just answer my questions. Anyways, I just need to resolder the connections on his panel, and hope there was nothing erased... especially software. I don't fuck with software," she groaned, glancing warily at the exposed wires.

The chameleon raised an eyebrow, "Where's the bad news?"

"I uh, don't really... okay, maybe I don't like soldering." Wave stated, crossing her arms.

Espio was far from amused; "You mean to tell me that your personal preferences are going to cost us the war?" he enquired, biting back as much aggression as he could.

The swallow scoffed, "Us? For the record, I hate it because I have to keep my hands steady, which is hard to do when someone is staring through my skull."

"Us as in the resistance, not you and I, as I'm well aware your team is not aligned and has chosen to ignore the fight entirely," Espio clarified, trying to mask his frustration. Sensing that his misstep was uncalled for, he backtracked with a softer tone, "But I do apologize for making your work environment hostile. I made a promise to Rouge, so I can't leave Omega unattended. If there's another way for me to be less obno—" he started, but was quickly cut off.

"No, it's fine," Wave said quickly, backpedaling. "I can fix the robot, you can stay here, it's all fine.”

Whether she was telling the truth or not was debatable, but they didn’t have the time to think about it in more depth. In fact, there was no time at all, as Espio was already receiving an incoming transmission from his communicator.

“I won’t be able to work with that beeping,” she scolded, but the smirk on her face indicated this was a joke. Nonetheless, the chameleon apologized anyways and answered the call.

“Listen up, we just got word that Eggman’s forces are undermanned at his headquarters in Metropolis!” a familiar voice cheered through speaker.

The swallow perked up and leaned back on her work table to commentate; “Huh, I guess Clifford is still hanging around that group after all… wait, is he a commander? Him, seriously?!”

Espio rolled his eyes and shushed her before unmuting; “They're probably staging somewhere else as part of Eggman's plan. This could be our only chance to take the city,” he replied.

Wave snorted and shook her head; “Yeah, sure he is: he’s fucking with you 100%, are you seriously gonna fall for that?” she jeered as the detective frantically re-muted and prayed her comments weren’t picked up by the crappy mic on his wrist.

Thankfully, Knuckles hadn’t heard the girl, and was too swept away in agreement to question Espio’s willing cooperation; “Exactly!” he cheered, “That's why we're focusing on a full frontal assault on Metropolis: I'm calling it ‘Operation Big Wave.’”

“I bet he’s still mad I’m taller than him,” she chimed back in, this time loudly crunching on some chips that were stale in her desk for who knows how long.

Espio raised an eyebrow, “You know Knuckles?” he asked, flinching at the loud crunching. “Also, this has nothing to do with your hei—“ he started, but eventually deadpanned while Wave snickered, successfully duping him again.

The swallow shrugged and nodded, still smirking from her joke, “Yeah, he’s not the brightest bulb, but then again neither is Storm so I guess we’re even. Who put him in charge?”

“Who cares what it's called? What's important is to have a well thought out strategy,” a different voice chimed in, and the swallow’s attention was quickly refocused once more.

She used this as an opportunity to brush her gloves on her pants, and walk over to Espio in an attempt to peer at the communicator’s visuals; “Oh, I like him! I dunno why he sounds familiar, but the dude has a point.”

Espio tried to move his arm away from her, but it was pointless: Wave wanted to snoop, so she’d get to. “I thought up this strategy in about a minute and a half,” Knuckles started, which earned a groan from both mobians.

“I bet his brain only has 4MB of storage, and half of that is dedicated to remembering how to aim when punching: 90 seconds is probably a personal record for him!” Wave jeered, but this time the chameleon couldn’t resist laughing.

“You have a point, but your commentary isn’t funny enough to drown out the discussion, so save you insults until AFTER they’re done talking.”

“Rude, but fair. If you talked over my meetings I’d probably concuss you.”

“You’d die trying.”

Before the swallow could continue the banter, Vector’s tendency to eat the mic proved its comedic timing, cutting the two off with a boom; “Ha! Great speech! Let's give Eggman an old-fashioned beat down!”

Wave glared at the auditory assailant, “What an irritable teammate, I’d hate to put up with him.”

“That’s my boss,” Espio admitted, failing to keep a straight face, but managed to disguise his laugh by clearing his throat.

The mechanic raised an eyebrow, stepping back in disbelief.

“You… work for HIM? You’re fucking with me, no… seriously? In what universe would someone like you work for an airbag like him?”

Espio shrugged, opting to not take offence or enable the notion that Vector was an idiot; “He’s usually more insightful than this, a method to his madness if you will. It’s irritating and unconventional, but he could be worse.”

“They have more in sheer numbers, so the idea of a quick, focused attack isn't bad. We also have Sonic— I mean, the other Sonic— so I have no doubt we can do this! Also, if we can destroy the Phantom Ruby, we should be able to send the other Sonic home… at least I hope so, this is all new territory for me!” Tails rambled out.

The chameleon was surprised Wave had no insults for the kitsune, turning back to figure out why— but her expression was unreadable.

Espio inhaled, “I am aware that you have somewhat of a rivalry with Tails, but—

—he sounds okay,” the swallow affirmed, almost relieved.

“Did you… know otherwise?” the chameleon prompted, but he was hesitant to say anything at all.

Wave shook out of her contemplative state and made her way back to Omega’s exposed panel, removing herself from the shift in tone; “It doesn’t matter, anyways. He’s just a kid,” she muttered before pushing her glasses down onto her face.

Opting to change the subject, Espio joined her by the robot and pointed to her lenses; “Are those also protective eye gear? I figured it was a style choice, or something for debris when flying… but soldering, too?”

She scoffed, “What do you think this is, Vogue runway? 73 questions with Wave? Seriously, just because I’m the girl of the team it doesn’t make me the vain one.”

While the mechanic knew Espio hadn’t implied anything superficial, and was actually being more insightful and polite than anyone else who entered her workshop, she couldn’t resist berating him.

If he was any less observant, this would have been the end of their agreement. But Espio was far too good of a detective to fall for deflection, and far too stubborn to lose at his own game.

“I bet it’s Storm, then.”

“Huh?”

“You said you’re not the vain one, so that means it has to be Storm.”

Wave, perplexed, turned away from her work again to stare inquisitively at the chameleon. “Go on,” she promoted, “State your reasoning.”

He inhaled, “Well, you ruled yourself out which leaves Jet and Storm— presuming there are no secret rogues and you only intend to include members of this generation. It seems too easy for me to point the finger at Jet; he’s vain to an extent, but he’s also rich, 14, and in a position of power. Some of it is inevitable, but leadership requires a level of humility so that one does not assume their position: his virtues are not a result of leadership, as that would be affirming the consequent. Rather, he is a leader because of his inherent virtue,” Espio explained.

To his surprise, the swallow didn’t cut him off, instead nodding for the analysis to resume.

“Okay,” he began warily, not used to getting this far, “Storm gets to fulfill his role as second in command, which most likely means he completes more tasks. Whether it be manning the airship, completing chores, going out on missions, cooking, being a yes man, personal fitness training— which I’m guessing purely based on his stature— he’s doing a lot, especially for Jet. Am I right in presuming this?” he paused for approval.

“Yes, but go on, I’m invested in where this is heading.”

Espio had to resist smiling, continuing to explain his reasoning; “In Storm’s mind, he does a lot more than you, and way more than Jet. He’s the man keeping everything together in his eyes, so even though people look down on him for not being the brightest, Storm knows in his heart that he’s more important than anyone will ever know. But he’s okay with that, because he’s the bigger person— literally and figuratively— so their assumptions don’t matter anymore. Even if no one else knows it, he is the backbone of the Babylon Rogues, the cogs that run the machine, and his ability to do it without recognition makes him the most valuable member. He’s quiet about it, but that’s precisely what makes him more vain: Storm thinks he’s above the petty feud between you and Jet since he doesn’t fight for the recognition. That’s my thought process.”

Wave began slowly applauding as she approached the chameleon, who had unknowingly paced around her workshop and grown more passionate and outspoken with every word, spiralling into the rambles of a madman. Hell, he was still completely oblivious to how quickly he lost all composure, basking in the pride of completing his monologue.

However, as the swallow became a concerning level of close without uttering a word, Espio started returning to his senses, realizing how far he overstepped.

At this point, Wave was inches from his face, merely held back by the chameleon’s horn.

Cheshire grin overtaking her vaguely amused expression, she spoke lowly,

“I lied.”

Espio, uneasy, backed away ever so slightly in confusion, “What?”

“I lied,” the mechanic repeated. “I’m the vain one, wanna know what gives it away?” she asked, still speaking ever so slowly.

When he didn’t respond, Wave barely held back a giggle and jabbed the chameleon’s shoulder with her finger;

“I just got you to ramble out justifications to take the heat off me and put it on Storm. You didn’t even see it coming,” she admitted earnestly, yet her condescending and mocking tone remained intact.

Espio, although flustered, was too stubborn to let this reasoning slide; “Maybe, but that doesn’t make you vain. Vain people don’t need external validation because they already know their worth: just like I noted about Storm. If you want attention this badly, you’re not vain, you’re desperate.”

Almost immediately after opening his mouth, the chameleon was certain he had fucked things up completely this time. Perhaps this was a good reminder to why he stopped going on arrogant, thrill-seeking battles of wit, and became the stoic voice of reason for his team.

He expected a heated comeback of sorts, or perhaps a slap to the face, but the mechanic did neither.

Sneer melting into smile, Wave managed to surprise the chameleon again:

“Oh, I like you. You’re not leaving this workshop anytime soon, so get comfortable,” she commanded, gently bonking his horn before gliding back to Omega, solder in hand.

Still in shock, Espio shook his head and blinked repeatedly before reluctantly accepting that what just happened really did occur, “I’m sorry, what?” he rasped out, bewildered.

The mechanic, who was now resoldering the motherboard like it was nothing, couldn’t resist giggling this time; “You’re smart, stubborn, sarcastic, and socratic. Where else am I gonna find discussion like this!?”

Laughing nervously, the chameleon wondered how he could politely reply; “Well, I appreciate the um, compliments? But I should really be getting back to the restoration— Operation Big Wave and all, he explained.

“That’s going to fail and you know it,” she retorted, “Just stay here and pretend you showed up! They won’t know the difference.”

Espio could have argued against her logic, but he not only knew better, he knew that Wave knew he knew better. And that, in itself, was an inescapable position.

“Can you at least put some music on?”

“Only if you’re in the mood for Warped circa 2008.”

Yeah, this would definitely be a better use of his time.

[onebatch2batch]

i have a problem and that problem is that i have about 20 wips and none of them are this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

kastle, set some time post-canon in-universe

[ao3]

--

“Alright Matt, I give up. What are we doing here?”

Foggy has been sitting on the same outside patio with his best friend for the better part of an hour in complete silence. Matt holds up a finger, head tilted. He’s obviously listening for something, just like he has been doing for the last twenty minutes, and Foggy settles back into his seat with a sigh. It’s a Sunday and he was so excited to sleep in–or at the very least have a lay-in with Marci–until Matt had called him up declaring an emergency breakfast which clearly has nothing to do with Foggy. 

The waitress comes by to fill their coffees and drop off more creamer before Matt scowls and turns his head towards the patio a block down and across the street. 

“Matt, who are you listening to?” Foggy asks, exasperated. “You look more like a creep than usual.”

Matt seems to debate on whether or not he should tell him the truth. Finally, he takes a drink of coffee and clears his throat. “We’re keeping an eye on Karen.”

Foggy opens and closes his mouth. He leans forward, forcing as much disbelief as he can into his voice. “Sorry, could you repeat that? Because it sounds like you’re admitting to infringing on your friend’s privacy.”

“Just in case something goes wrong–we’re staying close,” Matt says absently. He’s already lost interest in explaining himself. His face is turned away, brow furrowed. 

Foggy closes his eyes in defeat, groaning. “Matt, you can’t be serious. We’re spying on Karen’s date? Oh, she’s going to kill us. No, wait–you. She’s going to kill you. Although I think technically I’m an accessory now unless I tell her what you’re doing. Which I absolutely will not be.”

“Good. Now quiet for a second, I can’t hear.”

“Earth to Matty! Hey, you can’t use your super ears to spy on your friend’s love life, no matter how jealous you are.”

At that, Matt straightens with an affronted expression. “I’m not jealous, Fog. I’m just–cautious. You don’t get it.”

“What could I possibly not get right now? You literally forced me across town to spy on your friend’s date that she’s obviously trying to keep a secret from you. And for good reason.” 

Matt’s lips purse in a frown, realization dawning. “Hang on. Do you know who she’s with?”

Foggy is silent long enough for Matt to cough out a shocked laugh. “Foggy. You condone this?”

“Well, I never said that,” Foggy says vaguely. “I just think we should mind our own business. Karen’s her own person. She can handle herself.”

“It’s Frank Castle,” Matt whispers emphatically. Foggy rolls his eyes. “And you’re just okay with that?”

“I told you–I’m minding my own business. Are you going to eat that or what?” Before Matt can respond, he snatches up the bacon at the edge of Matt’s plate and chomps on it pointedly. “Just give up, Matt. Seriously. There’s nothing you can do, and you’re being creepy.”

“Every moment she spends with him she’s in danger, Foggy.” 

“Oh for the love–fine. I’ll shut up so you can listen in, but I’m telling you: you’re not going to want to hear what they’re saying. I accidentally walked in while she was on the phone with him the other day and…well, let’s just say I’ll never unhear what I heard.” Foggy shudders, remembering that late night at the firm. Never again will he walk into her office without announcing himself again. 

Matt huffs, turning his attention away again while Foggy waves down the waitress for the check. Down the street, he picks up on what Karen is saying through the sounds of traffic and silverware clinking against plates. 

A chair screeching against the pavement. A soft laugh. “What are you doing?”

“What? Can’t sit next to my lady?”

“Frank–we look ridiculous. We’re not a same-side-of-the-table couple and you know it.”

“Maybe I wanna be. Maybe I wanna be close enough to…”

“Oh. Well. That is certainly a perk…but we still look ridiculous. And I know you’re up to something.”

“Me? Nah. Just still thinkin’ ‘bout last night.”

A pause. Karen’s voice lowering. “Mhm? Which part?”

“You know which part.” 

“I don’t know. You might have to remind me. Or even better, we could go back to my place after this and you could show me.” A pause. “You know, just so we’re on the same page and everything.”

“That what you want? Me back at your place?”

Karen laughs. “I’m the one who said we should order in. I didn’t want to leave the bed, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I remember.” A chuckle. “You got all that, Red?”

“What?” Karen’s gasp. “Frank! Are you serious?”

“I’m not the one that started it. I just wanted some eggs and coffee.” Frank’s voice, amused and rough. 

“He’s not actually listening…is he?”

“Sure he is. He ain’t subtle, Karen.”

Matt clears his throat and tunes out of the conversation happening down the street. He feels uncomfortably warm, and he knows he’s blushing when Foggy starts laughing. “Shut up, Fog.”

“Oh, you should see your face right now. Let me guess, they were being all flirty and gross?”

Matt is interrupted when his phone starts to ring. Karen Karen Karen it chirps from his pocket, and Foggy immediately stops laughing. 

“Oh shit.”

Matt steels himself before pressing the phone to his ear and forcing a casual tone. “Good morning, Karen.”

“Matt,” Karen says sweetly. “What are you doing?”

Foggy is swiping a hand across his neck, eyes wide. He realizes Matt can’t actually see it and resorts to hissing, “I’m not here, I’m not here!”

“Having breakfast with Foggy.”

“Oh Foggy is there? Put me on speakerphone. Now.”

Matt sighs and does as he’s told, holding the phone between them. Foggy grimaces. 

“We’re talking about this later, because I don’t know who you’re around and I don’t want anyone incriminated.” Karen’s voice is deceptively pleasant. “But I want you both to know this. If I find out that you’re ever spying on me ever again, there will be hell to pay. Is that clear?”

Foggy groans. “Kare, hang on, I–”

“Is that clear?”

“Yes,” they mutter in unison. 

“Good! Enjoy your breakfast, you creepy weirdos.”

The phone beeps just as the waitress swings by with the check. Foggy pushes it towards Matt’s side of the table as he stands and pushes in his chair. “I think it’s fair for you to pay that.” He loads up his voice with as much cheerful sarcasm as he can muster. “Thanks for inviting me to the creepiest breakfast I’ve ever been a part of–and that includes when I was obsessed with that girl in college and sat on the bench outside of her first class all freshman year, hoping she’d notice me. See you tomorrow, buddy!”

Matt sighs and places his card on the check. 

–

“That was pretty hot,” Frank tells Karen the moment she hangs up the phone. He’s grinning ear to ear. 

She scowls at him, unamused. “I can’t believe you let me say all that knowing Matt was listening in. That’s mortifying.”

“Hey.” He takes her hand and his smile softens. “It’ll teach ‘em to leave us alone, right?”

She wants to stay mad. She really does. But when Frank Castle smiles at her like there’s no problems in the world and like she’s the only thing he can see, it’s impossible. She sighs and shoots him a smirk. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows raise, amused. “What exactly do I owe you?”

She hums consideringly and leans forward, pressing her lips against his just long enough for him to huff in disappointment when she pulls away. As much as she’d love to give in and kiss him like she wants, the other restaurant guests scattered around the patio are giving them uncomfortable glances. “I can think of a few things, and none of them involve being within hearing distance of two of my best friends.”

Frank is already waving for the waitress, grinning. “I’ll grab the check.”

[gophergal]

So this is the third oneshot I've finished this week (second I've posted here. The other that isn't posted here is already up on Ao3.) Don't expect this often, I just wanted to get some WIPs off my plate and I still have many to finish. This is just a short, sweet ficlet, but may have a companion or sequel later on. Who fucking knows. This is a sort of a collection of short moments with the two of them. No real plot, just fluff.

Home On The Range

Word Count: 2,000+ | Rating: T+ | Michael Myers x Jason Voorhees (Western AU) | M/M

Warnings: Implied Murder, Description of Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Failed Hanging Mention, Rushed Ending, Fluff

Samhain plodded along wearily, his rider slumped forward in the saddle as he made his way toward safety. The shootout in town, when the Shape had been driven from its prey, had resulted in Michael being shot thrice, twice in the shoulder, once center mass. He'd fled in a haze of pain and blood loss, mounted his horse, and eventually passed out.

And so that led Samhain to his current situation, following instinct to get he and his master somewhere safe, preferably somewhere with abundant food and water. The stallion stopped for a moment, ears perking up as he caught the sound of whistling coming from the valley below. A tall man, his head covered in a feed sack, was the source. The horse tentatively descended from the hilltop towards the strange man, focused on his joyful whistling.

Hearing the careful clop of hooves behind him, the large man turned, ready to strike with the ax in his hands, which he quickly lowered. Samhain snorted weakly where he stood, far away enough that the man couldn't grab him. Instead, the bag-headed man reached into a pocket on his tattered jacket, and pulled out a half eaten stick of peppermint, holding it out to the stallion who took it, eating greedily. His rough hand pet the horse's black, velvety nose and he hummed reassuringly. The horse's rider did not move, even as the tall man took the reins from his hands and led the horse away from the area.

Trees became more dense as they walked until they came upon a small cabin. Samhain's head perked up as his rider was removed from his back, and he let out a piercing whinny. The man hummed again, reassuring the distressed animal, who slowly returned to a relaxed state. Michael was taken from the horse's back, draped limply in the big man's arms like a doll. He groaned, still unconscious, but alive. After taking the smaller man into the tiny log cabin, the large man returned and removed the tack from the black stallion, running his hand along the sweaty, matted coat that had been beneath, then led the horse to a small stream by the halter, leaving him there to graze and drink the fresh cool water that flowed so freely.

Back in the cabin, Jason studied the man he'd sat on his bed, scratching his beard through the rough burlap of his hood. The dark haired man was covered with a layer of cold sweat, his face twisted in pain, even while asleep. Grabbing a basin of clean water and a rag, Jason set to work undressing the man's torso, looking at the bullet wounds that littered his flesh, nestled alongside other pale scars, some fresher than others. While dabbing the blood crusted injuries, he examined them, determining that the shoulders had been entered and exited cleanly. They would only need liquor poured on them to fight infection. The shot in the abdomen, however, looked more serious, and had no exit wound, all but guaranteeing that the offending lead was lodged within. Jason debated whether he should remove the bullet while the man was unconscious or not, deciding to finish dressing the other two wounds beforehand.

When the alcohol was administered, the man roused with a shout of pain, startling Jason, who in turn fell backward. The man looked around in panic, wearily reaching for his gun, which was no longer on his hip. There was a fire in his eyes, which Jason could now see were mismatched, one black as the horse he rode in on and the other milky white. Rolling off the bed, the man struggled to get to his feet, groaning quietly in agony. Jason approached slowly, as one would a wild animal, which earned him a glare. Disregarding this, he grabbed the man's good arm, careful to help him get seated on the mattress. He did not fight back, but kept scowling weakly, allowing his saviour to do as he pleased. With little fuss, his wounds were bandaged, the pressure of it relieving some of the aching.

Michael fell back onto the cushion, flinching in pain that radiated from his midsection. He inhaled sharply, looking over at the bag headed man who gestured to the leaking wound. He mimed pulling something out, which Michael nodded in response to. Steeling himself in preparation of the pain and biting down on the rolled cloth which was put in his mouth. His eyes screwed shut at the first penetration of the hole, burning pain blinding all his senses as the man's fingers searched for the bullet. It seemed to last forever, and Michael threatened to black out.

His stomach turned as the white hot agony coursed through him, reaching every point on his body. Finally, the man extracted his fingers, and he relaxed slightly, breathing heavily around the fabric gripped tightly in his mouth. When he looked up, the man held the bullet in his bloodied hand. Which he set down beside the basin of water. The pain had subsided enough that Michael could feel the touch of water on his abdomen as the man cleaned his wound again, and finally wrapped it.

“Michael,” he rasped, exhaling sharply and extending a hand to the other man, who said nothing in reply, instead holding his hand after shaking it, and drawing wobbly letters into his palm with a finger. He did this twice, then again, writing on his palm until Michael picked it up: J-A-S-O-N. Michael nodded in recognition, leaning back into the mattress and shutting his eyes. He let out a shaky breath, recalling what had happened in the past week. Then shoving it aside. Yet again, the Shape had led him into danger, just as it always had in search of feeding its insatiable hunger.

A few days passed with Michael resting up and Jason keeping his wounds clean. The two would sit in each other's presence, drinking in the peace. Samhain was well, happy to munch on the green grass of the field nearby. It was nice, but Michael was growing restless. His wounds were beginning to close and hurt far less than they had at first. As soon as he was well enough to ride out again, he'd go after that damned Marshall's head. The thought was delightful and served as his sole motivator for remaining at the cabin. So he told himself, that is.

The other big reason was standing out in the clearing around the back, the muscles of his arms shifting as he chopped firewood. Jason had the strength and stature of no one Michael had ever seen. Even the big bastards he'd get in fights with while swacked on whiskey were puny in comparison, though Jason didn't seem the type to fight drunkards in run down dead-fall saloons. No, he seemed like a good enough man that Michael felt no worry around him. Even if he hadn't seen the man's face, which Michael figured was his right to hide anyway, he could tell in his gut that Jason could be trusted. Michael stirred the pot of stew on the stove as he tried to figure out his plan for when he'd head out.

The more he thought about it, he began to realize that he had no idea where to start looking for Marshall Loomis. In theory, he could just go to the nearest town and start shit, then wait while word spread of his whereabouts, but that just wasn't the way Michael liked to do things. He'd much rather be the hunter, waiting in the shadows for his prey.

Jason walked in, skin still glistening from his hard work outside. It should be time for supper soon, he figured. After all, the sun was hanging low in the sky, ready to set within a couple hours. Jason stopped in the doorway, watching as Michael stood at the stove. Something was nice about watching the smaller man (and that's smaller, mind you, not small. Michael was a large fellow in his own right) tend to their supper.

It was very thoughtful of him, despite how Jason tried to keep him off his feet, lest his wounds reopen. There was also something about the scene that caused warmth to bloom in his chest. He pushed it down. Michael would leave at some point. Jason would be on his own again. He didn't even know why he'd helped the younger man.

A month later, December brought cold, dry weather and Michael sitting in front of the fireplace with Jason, whittling away at a chunk of wood. As he whittled, he made excuses for why he should stay now that his wounds had fully healed, now just marks on his skin where the skin dipped low. He owed it to Jason to repay him for all he'd done in nursing him back to health. Samhain needed time to recuperate. Things to justify his extended stay.

With a glance to his side, he stopped carving for a moment, taking in the picture of Jason, his burlap hood nowhere to be seen. His red hair burned vibrant in the firelight as he mended the hole in a shirt. Michael stopped lying to himself, knowing in his heart that he stayed for his own selfish reasons. Jason was a warm presence. Comforting in a way Michael had never felt.

It was contentment, he supposed it would be called. The closest he'd ever gotten was the come down off an adrenaline high of fighting or the fuzzy, numb stupor he would often find at the bottom of a bottle, but neither of those quite fit the word. It just felt good to be around the red haired man. Michael was good at reading people, a trait that came from many years of playing poker to pay for his needs, but he didn't need any of that to know that Jason felt the same. Michael just couldn't leave him now, he simply had no desire to.

Jason had once showed his face freely to those around him. Back when his mama was alive. He remembers the name calling, the tears Mama wiped away, the accusations after her death, the first bit of darkness when his head covered when he was to be hanged, all of the things that led to his hiding. He'd been nervous when Michael saw his face that first time. Washing his burlap hood in the stream, he'd been suddenly confronted by the brunet. His good eye scanned Jason's face with curiosity. He didn't say anything, just looked. There was no laughter or disgust, just the fire of interest, then of concern when they dropped to the faint ring of scarring around his neck. The two sat there quietly, a silent understanding forming.

That had been within the first couple weeks of Michael's stay. Now, Jason kept the hood off. Only putting it back on when trespassers came to their land, in need of disposal. Michael showed no hatred of that horrible face, but often looked at him, focused as though he were looking at the brightest star in the heavens. Jason allowed himself to hold onto the warmth it brought this time, savoring the way Michael brought him comfort.

Michael rode off to take his vengeance on the Marshall in mid spring. He'd put it off long enough, for as much as he wished to stay with Jason, true peace would not come to him until Marshall Loomis was dead and buried. There was a kiss goodbye, a lingering farewell and promise of return, then suddenly the red haired man was left alone once again. The land was emptier now without Michael. Jason busied himself with protecting their home (for now it was just as much Michael's as it was Jason's before) in the meantime.

It was incredibly lonesome, more than he'd expected. It's not as though Michael left without warning, he'd mentioned he would, and yet Jason was worried. Worried that he'd never see the dark haired man again. Had those silent confessions of adoration been lies? They never were on Jason's part, but Michael's face held no clues to the truth. He supposed Michael would been great at bluffing. It reminded him of something Mama once said: You ought not trust a poker player, Jason, they'll steal everything from you, and they'll make you feel special when it happens. He didn't want to think about that, and held on to the memory of the last time he held the black eyed man.

Days began to blend together before Michael returned on his black stallion. He'd been injured again, but nowhere near as badly. He fell into Jason's arms two months after he'd first left. He was weaker now, a husk of who he'd been. Anger no longer held him together. Jason could tell that he'd ate little and slept less since he'd been gone. His heart was simultaneously broken at the sight of his frail state and filled with his presence. He didn't want to ever let him go again. After a few days rest and many good meals, Michael looked much better physically, but something was different still.

Touching was more common than it had been before. When they sat in front of the fireplace of an evening, Jason would often find Michael reaching out for his own calloused hand, weaving their fingers together and scooting closer. Once, he pushed a curly, red lock of hair behind his ear, the corners of his mouth quirked up in an unpracticed smile. Jason melted at that first smile and every smile after. The weight that had been lifted from Michael's shoulders would never be commented on by either of them. They were simply too wrapped up in the pleasure of one other's presence and comfort to bring up that pain.

There was no pain or unhappiness in their little home that they built, not anymore. Not so long as they had each other to look out for them.

[darkened-storm]

Nano WIP

An hour later, when the closing credits began to roll across the screen, Hilary sighed contentedly. “It’s still quite early,” she said, craning her neck to look up at her boyfriend. “Do you want to go for a walk and look at the Christmas lights?” 

Tyson, who only a moment early looked as though he’d been about to doze off, suddenly sat up. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go for a walk.” He nudged Daichi with his foot as he passed, and the younger boy gave a start, dropping his gingerbread. 

“Hey, what gives?” he exclaimed. He glared at the cookie in disappointment, clearly debating if he would be judged for eating it off the floor. 

“You’re coming with us,” Tyson told him. 

Daichi frowned, still lamenting over his cookie. “Why?” 

“If you don’t work off all that gingerbread you just ate we’ll be rolling you back to Okinawa by New Year���s,” the world champion told him.

Muttering under his breath, Daichi clambered to his feet and allowed Hilary to stuff a beanie on his head and tug it down over his ears. 

“You guys will hold down the fort til we get back?” she asked.

Steph raised an eyebrow suspiciously. If Hilary’s intention had been to spend some alone time with Tyson, why on earth were they dragging Daichi along? 

“Sure,” she muttered, exchanging a puzzled glance with Matt. He shrugged; it wasn’t exactly like Hilary was offering them another choice anyway. 

The sound of keys jingling perked Freya’s interest and she bounded to her feet, barking excitedly. 

Tyson chuckled. “All right girl,” he said, reaching for her lead and clipping it to her collar. He opened the door and she bounded out, dragging Tyson with her. Daichi darted after them, with Hilary calling to him to zip up his coat as she hurried after them. 

“See you later, you two,” she called to Steph as the door clicked shut behind them. 

“Well, that was subtle,” Matt remarked after a moment. 

“I don’t think subtle is in Tyson’s vocabulary,” Steph reminded him. 

[organabanana]

OC Kiss Week: Dangerous

I was going to use OCs from my main WIP but since my brain is clearly run by a scurry of squirrels I got tangled up in this random short story I’d started and abandoned a million times before for a prompt that went “To save her own life, she would have to kill...”. I only had the first paragraph written and today these two characters just decided to have a love story in my head so here we are. This will probably end up being a proper WIP, but for now the two characters are two women, both unnamed, and it’s all very dark and noir-esque in my head.

Content warning: gun.

To save her own life, she would have to kill the beautiful detective currently pointing her gun at her. The detective had seen her without her disguise, and she knew even if she managed to escape without being shot, it wouldn't be long before she’d have the entire police department at her door. It was a matter of life or death, she told herself. She was no killer (not really, because it didn't count if they deserved it) but self-defense was a thing, wasn't it? She knew she could easily overpower the detective, even in her weaker human form. Not to brag, but she was super-human in every way that counted when it came to a fight. So gun or no gun, she could take the detective out. She could make it quick and painless, too. There was no reason to make her suffer. 

What were her choices, really? If the cops found out, all Hell would break loose. Figuratively. As a demon, she wouldn't particularly mind if the ground opened up and swallowed her whole right about now. But it was a figure of speech, and she remained there, looking into the barrel of a gun that shook just enough to tell her the detective wasn't nearly as confident in this whole thing as she'd looked at first. 

"Are you gonna shoot me?" She asked for some reason, even if this could’ve been over already. She could've killed the detective already. And yet...

"What are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"I can't kill you, can I?"

She shook her head. No, the detective couldn't kill her.

"Can anyone?" The detective asked, relaxing her stance. She lowered the gun and slipped it back into its holster, like she slowly realized her weapon was useless anyway. "Can you be killed?"

"Yes."

For a second, something flashed behind the detective's eyes that made her wonder if she was maybe going to ask who. Who could kill her? But she didn't. 

"Are you evil?"

"Depends on who you ask."

The detective tilted her head almost imperceptibly, as if trying to see the demon from a different angle. 

"Are you dangerous?" the detective asked.

"For whom?"

She hoped the way her lip quirked in ever-so-subtle amusement wasn't noticeable. Humans and their morals. She could tell the detective was debating whether she should be honest and ask about herself, or be honorable and ask about the population at large.

She was pleased to see honesty win over honor in the end.

"For me."

"No." The single word seemed to bounce around in the small room, like it had a physical weight to it. Like it could be touched. 

"You can't hurt me?"

"Didn't say I couldn't."

She could see the detective's pupils dilate just a touch. 

"You won't hurt me?"

The demon shook her head. It wasn't a lie, even if it should have been. Hell, the detective should have been dead by now.

The detective took a step forward. Just one. Just enough.

"Can I hurt you?"

"Yes," she said, honesty winning over self-preservation for some reason, "you can even get me killed."

The silence stretched only for a handful of seconds, but it felt heavy in a very peculiar way.

"But I wont," the detective said, holding her gaze like she wasn't afraid at all. Like she hadn't just been pointing a trembling gun at her face.

"But you won't."

She could hear the detective’s heart beating faster than normal in her chest. Perks of being a demon. 

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not.”

The demon was surprised to realize the detective was telling the truth. She couldn’t smell fear on her at all. Her heart was beating faster, yes, but it wasn’t because she was afraid.

“Can I touch you?”

“You’ve touched me before.” 

“No. I’ve touched her,” the detective said, pointing at the demon’s face which she now knew wasn’t her face at all, “I mean can I touch you.”

The demon narrowed her eyes. This whole… thing with the detective had not been part of the plan. Posing as a human and infiltrating the police department? Part of the plan. Getting a partner? Not quite part of the plan, but only a minor setback.

Ending her first week on the job in bed with the partner and accidentally letting her disguise slip in front of her?

Not part of the plan at all.

The demon was still considering the many ways in which her plan had imploded in the last ten minutes when she felt soft fingers wrap around her wrist.

“What are you doing?”

The detective pressed the pad of her thumb against the spot where the demon’s pulse would’ve been on her wrist. If she’d had a pulse. The detective’s eyes widened slightly at the realization but, to her credit, she didn’t let go of the demon’s hand.

“You had a pulse last night.” The demon nodded, and the detective pressed on. “Show me. I’m not scared.”

The demon looked down, watching the soft, deep bronze skin change into the rougher, bluish-grey scales of her true form. 

“It’s so warm,” the detective breathed out, her fingertips following the path of the demon’s changing skin up the inside of her arm, “do you feel warm?”

The demon nodded. She chose not to mention she felt warmest where the detective’s fingertips were pressed against her skin.

“Can I kiss you?” The detective asked, looking up to meet the gaze of the demon’s taller, real body. “Will it be dangerous?”

The demon smirked. “For whom?”

There was a glint of something - something playful that reminded the demon of a night spent tangled in soft, fresh-smelling sheets - in the detective’s eyes.

“For you.”

The demon chose to lean down and kiss the detective instead of answering. The detective’s fingers slotted in the spaces between the demon’s, squeezing slightly as she parted her lips.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, exploratory, not unlike the one they shared the night before right before tumbling into bed. The detective’s free hand pressed against the spot on the demon’s chest where she could’ve felt a heartbeat if there had been one to be felt. 

The detective traced every corner of the demon’s mouth with her tongue. The roof of her mouth, her teeth, her--

“Are you a vampire?” The detective asked, kiss-swollen lips parted to allow her to take in shallow, panting breaths. “Is that it?”

The demon smiled. 

“No, I’m not a vampire.”

“What are you?”

“Does it matter?” 

The detective looked at her in silence for a handful of seconds.

“No,” she said, already leaning in for another kiss, “I guess it doesn’t.”

[pagerunner]

Self-Promo Meme

@ferociousqueak​  tagged me for the thing! The Thing is to post the first line of my last 10 fics and then tag 10 people. I’ve taken “line” a bit loosely and anyone who does this should to. Depending on how you count, I’ve written 10 so that works out perfectly! (ok, so I’ve written 12, but one’s a three parter that’s technically one story and i will count it as such, so there.)

Here goes. All fics are and completed (cause i’m scared to post wips lol)

The Misadventures of Grumpy Cat and Circus (Leverage meets Fraction!Hawkeye)

“I was shot at Eliot! Shot. At. With an arrow of all things, are you listening to me?” Hardison checked his coat again to be sure the close call hadn’t been closer. He liked this coat, especially here, in an alley in the middle of Bed-Stuy, which hadn’t gotten the memo that it was April dammit, and still insisted on wind chill.

(currently working on two sequels and i will finish both this year dammit.)

Pretzels /  Plans / Protection (OT3 get together fic)

Whatever Nate and Sophie had gotten up to while they were away in D.C. must have involved Sterling. The Interpol pretzel cart was back, parked across the street with its bright umbrella opened against the drizzle. Eliot casually checked it out as he started unloading Hardison and Parker’s luggage, before Hardison, who’d been wrapped up in some stupid debate with their driver about a taxi service you call with an app, jumped out of the taxi in alarm.

The Food Cart Job (Peggy joins the crew for a job)

“There is no one here dressed up as a pie, Hardison, are you kidding me, man?” The voice was irate, but pitched low, and Peggy ducked her head down behind the pamphlet someone had shoved in her face earlier, pretending not to be eavesdropping on the guy growling into the phone in front of her. “NO. No couples going as salt and pepper, and don’t even get started on the— NO. For one thing, I’d be the goddamn mustard.” He was stocky, short enough that she had a good eyeline on his very impressive biceps, and if they were going to be stuck in this line much longer, she just might try chatting him up.

Context (quick musings about knives from the POV of Eliot’s HS home ec teacher)

There’s a jock in her class.

There’s a jock in her class and he sits front and center, not slouched in the corner like the other times she’s called roll on the first day and glanced up to match a name to a bored face above a letterman jacket. This one—Eliot Spencer—does not look bored.

Make Way For Ducklings (Leverage next gen that i keep intending to write a sequel to, i love them so much)

“Got one for you. See pic. Deliver it in a week or else.”

A week? Lennie owes someone money.

Josie studied the picture of a woman’s driver’s license — Irene Fisher, lives at 436 East Hadley — and smeared wasabi on her last piece of avocado roll before popping it into her mouth. The stringent spice burned her sinuses and made her eyes water as she pitched the empty container out the window of her SUV into a nearby trash can. She blinked to clear her eyes before pulling out of her parking spot. It would take her a good half hour to get to Hadley from here, so Irene might already be home from her extra unlucky traffic stop.

The Secret Santa Job (fluffy christmas fluff)

“Kidnap the Sandy Claws…”

She’s singing the song. Again. Ever since Hardison got the oh-so-idiotic idea to show Parker a movie about a bunch of monsters stealing Christmas a week back, she’s been fixated on this song. This high-pitched, sing-song chant of violence that is giving him ideas he shouldn’t be contemplating around Christmas. He’d asked Hardison who wrote the thing while he was distracted enough by some tech thing to overlook the imminent violence in Eliot’s tone, but the moment Parker’d heard the guy’s name had the word “Elf” in it, he’d been official declared off-limits.

Drifting (Eliot hangs out with an imaginary Aimee while imprisoned at the college campus) 

Somewhere, far away, he’s being tortured.

It isn’t particularly effective, no more annoying than one of Hardison’s long-winded explanations...fine, so maybe a little more annoying than that, but Eliot’s not about to admit it over the comms.

Anyway, he’s just doing what he does.

The 0-8-4 Job (Leverage / Agents of SHIELD s1...and Bunny is an 084. yeah i don’t know either but i really love how it came out.)

S.H.I.E.L.D. Evidence File Status: Classified Restricted Access: Level 4 Subject: 0-8-4 Retrieval

Evidence Report

The 0-8-4 has been linked to numerous hospitalizations and fatalities of children and their guardians.

Birthdays and Blowtorches (Birthday fluff!)

“Oooh, you should get that for my birthday!---Eliot. I mean, for Eliot.” Eliot feels the tiny muscles in his ears perk at the sound of his name, like the hairs on the back of his neck raising, but for a very different kind of danger.

Finding Lost Dogs (DB Cooper Job fic about young Todd Mcsweeten)

The week after Todd McSweeten lost his bike, he found a dog.

A scruffy thing, probably white once upon a time, now a brown and gray smudge wriggling desperately under a bush, its collar caught fast in the branches. If he’d been riding his bike, he might have missed it. He knelt down, mindful that scared dogs sometimes bite, even if they don’t mean to, and carefully stuck out his hand for the dog to sniff. It didn’t snarl or snap, just struggled more frantically and, worried it would strangle itself, he reached in, fumbling a bit before he managed to loose the collar from the branch. The dog tumbled forward into his arms, whining and snuffling and licking his face all over.

I very much hate tagging (yay social anxiety) but I would also very much like to see other lists so please consider yourselves tagged!

[sending-words-home]

I was tagged by @writing-at-dusk

1. If you could trade places with a character (yours or someone else’s) who would it be?

I'd love to trade places with my character Connor because I think his upbringing is super cool. He was raised on a farm in Ireland and was always around all types of animals. He's also wants the best for others but is still a bit snarky and I think that's really likeable.

2. Who’s your favourite Author role model?

JK Rowling made me fall in love with words, Ray Bradbury taught me how to make a world out of words, and Stephen Chbosky helped me take control of my own story.

3. Where’s your favourite place to write?

I have a green armchair in my room named Gwenovere (no, not Guinevere) and I love her.

4. What book made you want to write?

Hmm, I've been writing since I was little, so I don't really know. Probably the Harry Potter series, all of Rick Riordan's book (in fourth grade I wrote fan fiction for The Kane Chronicles), and most recently The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I've also been inspired to write scripts by Sense8 and Ozark.

5. Where do you see yourself as a writer in five years?

I'll be in college then, hopefully in New York. I want to major in screenwriting and film direction with a minor in theatre (as of now). I want to have at least one of my novels finished by then (hopefully).

6. If you could rewrite any famous book would you do it, and how would you change it?

I'd rewrite my summer reading book Grapes of Wrath and make it interesting.

Just kidding--I'd probably rewrite

A Midsummer Night's Dream but make all the fantasy antics take place in a big city because I think that piece would be really fun to modernise.

7. What is your wip about?

Oh goodness, which one?

Most of mine don't have titles (or plots, honestly) and I don't want to put too much online, but here it goes:

1. Livia and Miles are high school students in Chicago who love thrift shopping and fashion photography. I don't want to release too much of the plot, but I can say: gang tensions, misunderstood peers, and debate.

2. Maggie is trans girl forced to move from California to Kansas because of her father's job. Let's just say the political climate of Kansas is very different from that in California.

3. Anora lives in Maine and is entering high school. She is aroace, a very good cook, and a total treehugger. As for the plot, let's just say: serial robberies, dog walking, misplaced blame, and friendship at its finest.

I have others, but they're too undeveloped at the moment

8. Favourite bookstore?

There's a used bookstore down in Sebastian, Florida that has all sorts of books really cheap that I love! Unfortunately I live 1000 miles away from there, so I can't go often. But I also love going to antique malls to buy first edition books!

9. What colour do you want your first book jacket to be?

I'm not sure, but probably earth tones!

10. How many words do you plan on your wip being?

I'm not sure, but 80,000 sounds like a good estimate

[b0ne-marrow]

Valorverse - Nimbostratus

Since I have no self control I'm posting them now instead of tomorrow, lol. This is Nimbostratus, the baby that Skystar and Pinkie had together. She's the youngest of the bunch. (Red Velvet being the oldest and Sugar Rush being the middle child) and kind of takes after her Aunt Marble. Soft, reserved, but a joy to be around.  (Side note, should I make an Autumn Blaze x Skystar baby? I'm debating it kinda)  She's nonbinary, uses She/her but is agender.  (And she completes the trend of Pinkie's kids just not being cis in this AU LMFAO) I had first tried to make her design here: https://www.deviantart.com/musical-medic/art/MLP-Nextgen-Doodle-Dump-790921937 but wasn't 100 percent on it. I'm still not, as I don't know if I like the second color in her mane or not yet, plus I dunno if I want to give her a Cutie mark or not as well. I'm not sure what to do exactly with her yet but I hope you enjoy the design nonetheless LOL   If you like what I do on here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (Currently Down) as well as the other websites I'm on, as well as commissioning me or donating! Every little bit you can do to help directly supports me. Patreon Perks include: - Early Access to all my works. - Access to WIPS and a special shout out on every post I make. - Drawings of your choice linked to how much you contribute! - Getting up to a 70 percent discount on your next commission from me! - Early notifications to when my commissions are opening and the ability to reserve a slot! Commission Information: https://www.deviantart.com/musical-medic/art/Commission-Information-OPEN-797509905 Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Musicalmedic DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/musical-medic Furaffinity: https://furaffinity.net/user/musicalmedic/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/Musical_mediic Tumblr: https://Musical-mediic.tumblr.com Posted using PostyBirb

[writingsofaderangedfox]

Old Dogs, New Tricks. (WIP, Chapter 2)

Chapter 2: Whats Done Can’t Be Undone.

“what the hell are you doing man, did you really invite a woman who is ten years younger than you back to your house and pass out in her arms like some damned kitt? What the actual fuck??? did you hit your head? Are you still drunk?? is this some kind of fantasy dream caused by a mental breakdown????”  

all these things buzzed through Dean’s head as he kept a smile on his face and cooked breakfast.  

“what if you accidentally imprint yourself on her?? what if you did already while you where passed out drunk????

would that really be a bad thing?

YES! YES IT WOULD YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!! WHAT IF SHE DOES NOT FEEL THE SAME?? WHAT IF, AFTER LAST NIGHT, ANY FEELINGS SHE MAY HAVE HAD ARE GONE BECAUSE SHE REALIZES YOU’RE DAMAGED GOODS?!?!?!”

an internal argument had broken out between Dean and himself but he kept the smile on his muzzle as he finished cooking and presented Frankie with a plate of her own.

“eat up, it only tastes worse as it cools.” Dean said jokingly.

“I doubt it can taste any worse than it already does.” she said jokingly making a face of feigned disgust.

“See!? She is even enjoying my stupid puns!” Dean’s internal optimist all but screamed.

“get over yourself, remember your her ride home.” said Dean’s internal skeptic less than amused with the situation.  

The internal debate continued and as Dean felt his nonchalant guise failing he excused himself.  “I.. I uh got to attend to some business.” he said as he pointed to the stairs and stood up from the table.  Dean sighed in relief as he closed the master bathroom’s door.

“what is happening?” he asked the empty room. “I need to get my head on straight…” he said as he seriously considered the idea of taking an ice cold shower.

Dean sat in the shower for a few moments before standing up and turning the water on as cold as he could get it and sat shivering under the stream of freezing water for a good two minutes before rising and turning off the water.  

“what is he doing?” Frankie asked the empty parlor as she waited on Dean. “are you OK up there?” she yelled from down stairs.

“y.. y.. yea Frankie, I… I… I’m fine!” came Dean’s response.

“are you sure? You sound like you just got done going for a swim in a frozen lake!” she said with worry in her tone.

“y.. yea I’m fine, I’ll be down shortly.” Dean said sounding a bit nervous.

What was he doing for so long? Why did he sound like he was freezing? And why the hell did he sound so nervous? All these questions and more buzzed around Frankie’s head until a shivering Dean reappeared on the stairs, fur still damp in a few spots.

“Dean! Your shaking….. and wet?” Frankie asked more than making a statement.  

“yea I uh… thought I would freshen up but I guess the hot water heater is on the fritz, I’ll take a look at it tomorrow.” he said as he scratched the back of his head.  

“Dean, are you OK?” Frankie asked, a little more insistent this time.

“yea, could only be better if I was a little warmer.” Dean replied with a small smirk on his face as he attempted hide the fear and anxiety that had built up within him.

On the opposite end of the spectrum of Dean’s internal debate, there was Frankie’s internal debate and her outward confusion of Dean’s behavior. “what are you doing????  you are literally just now getting to know him, why are you getting so damned attached????? why are you acting so desperate????

maybe because I am…. Maybe because since I first saw him I wanted to get to know him, in more ways than one….  

ARE YOU STUPID??????     HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM????   I KNOW ENOUGH!  I KNOW WHAT I FEEL AND I KNOW I’VE NEVER FELT THIS WAY BEFORE! SO WHAT! LOOK AT HIM! YOUR MAKING HIM NERVOUS!!! YOUR MAKING HIM UNCOMFORTABLE AND YOUR BEING SELFISH! THE ONLY REASON HE HASN’T ASKED YOU TO LEAVE YET IS BECAUSE HE’S BEING A GENTLEMAN!!!  

you don’t know that…..

neither do you!”

as the battle raged in Frankie’s head she noticed that Dean was looking at her with a confused look on his face.

“Frankie, you OK? You went quiet there for a bit and had this weird look on your face.” Dean asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“Dean..” Frankie trailed off looking for the right words. “do you honestly want me here? To stay here and finish your stories I mean…”

Dean looked at her confused (and worried that he had been right about her thinking he was “damaged”)  “of course Frankie! Your welcome to stay as long as you want to.” Dean said almost pleadingly.

“C.. Can I ask you a question Dean?” Frankie asked quietly.

“well you just did, but I assume you meant a different one.” Dean joked in a bad attempt to break the tension.

“Dean…” Frankie paused thinking hard about what she wanted to say next. “would you maybe… maybe wanna catch a movie or something?” she asked looking down.

“huh?” was all a Stunned Dean could muster as a response.

“would you want to go see a movie with me this afternoon?” Frankie asked again, made slightly more confident by Dean’s reaction.

“see a movie..” Dean repeated as his brain started to catch up to the conversation. “see a movie…  as in a date?” Dean asked, a shocked look still plastered on his face.

“well….” Frankie trailed off as she desperately tried to keep from blushing. “yes….” she finished with a quiet squeak in her voice.

“y.. yes…” Dean answered quietly. “but I get to choose the movie.” he added as he attempted (and failed) to hide the grin spreading across his muzzle.

“Really??” Frankie all but yelled.

“yea, but if your going to take me out on a date I would suggest we get you home so you don’t have to wear a work uniform you slept in.” Dean said with a small chuckle.

“oh…. Yea..” Frankie said as she looked over herself.

“you can borrow my car to get home, unless you want me to drive you.” Dean said.

“could you drive me? I would love to rub the fact that I got a date in my roommates face.” Frankie said with a devilish smile.

“is that all I am, a trophy?” Dean asked with feigned pain in his voice and an over dramatic roll of his eye.

“har har, no but that is a perk in this instance.” she replied.

“fair enough.” Dean replied with a small laugh as he went to get his things together.

“I told you it would be fine.” where the finale words of both of their internal arguments that rang through their heads.

As the pair walked out the door Frankie headed to the old Pontiac. “not that one.” Dean said with a smirk. “we’re going in style.” he said as he opened the garage door exposing a dust covered tarp in the shape of a car. “might wanna back up, its gonna get pretty dusty for a bit.” Dean said as he pulled the tarp off exposing a snow white Nova with large blower sticking out of the hood.

“good lord!” Frankie exclaimed. “its beautiful! How long have you had this Dean?” she asked with wonder in her eyes.

“she was my first car.” dean replied with a proud smile on his muzzle. “Get in and lets take ol’ Bess for a spin.” he said as he opened the passenger door for Frankie.

“oh man! This is gonna be sweet!” Frankie said, not even attempting to hide her excitement as she got in the car.

“hold on.” Dean said with a chuckle as he turned the key and the engine came to life with a deep growl.  

The hour drive back into the city was filled with laughing and joking as the pair finalized their plans for their impromptu date this afternoon.

The pair pulled up to Frankie’s apartment at around ten-thirty in the morning, Dean parked the car and got out to open Frankie’s door.

“thank you Dean, you are a gentleman and a scholar.” Frankie said as Dean helped her out of the car.

“well a gentle-mammal, but no scholar.” Dean replied with a small smirk.

“well either way, I appreciate it.” Frankie said with a smirk of her own. “now come on, I have a roommate to ‘piss off’ as you like to say.” she said in a low coo, the sudden use of profanity and alluring under tone in her voice momentarily shocking Dean.

“O.. OK..” he stuttered as he followed Frankie into the apartment.  

The first thing to catch Deans attention as they walked in was the extremely loud, and off key, singing of what he could only assume was either Frankie’s roommate or some terrible creature from the ninth circle of hell. “hey Ash!” Frankie called. “Ash! Come here I got someone I want you to meet!”

“Just a sec Frankie!” was Ash’s response from the far end of the house.

Dean shifted nervously from foot to foot being stuck in an unfamiliar place waiting to meet the roommate of a woman he just officially met less than twenty-four hours ago while nursing a hangover and mentally preparing for a date, needless to say every fiber of his being was telling him to bolt, but there he stood with a calm expression on his face, if not in his body language.  

“are you OK Dean?” Frankie asked as she observed his little waltz of nerves.

“hmm? Yea I’m fine, just feeling the after effects of the booze last night.” Dean said with a half-lidded look on his face and a small smirk on his muzzle.  

“well I have some ibuprofen and ant-acids if you want some.” Frankie offered, even though she doubted that was the only cause of Deans discomfort.

“if you could get me some ibuprofen I would be in your debt for the day.” Dean said with a smirk, Frankie’s concern boosting his confidence enough to calm his nerves for the time being.

After taking the ibuprofen Dean sat at the small table in the kitchenette as Frankie and Ash talked in the other room for what seemed like hours, and finally the pair entered the makeshift dinning room.

“so this is the mysterious stranger that’s caught Frankie’s eye?” Ash asked with a discrete smirk on her face.

“it would appear so, my name is Dean Keysr and its a pleasure to meet you miss.” Dean said while standing up from the table and bowing ever so slightly.

“handsome and a gentleman, Frankie you struck gold.” Ash said as she gently ribbed Frankie with her elbow.

“cut the popular schoolgirl act Ash.” Frankie said with a chuckle.

“if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two where sisters.” Dean said with a smirk.

“oh you ain’t that lucky Dean!” Ash said while giving Dean a wink and laughing.

“Ashlynn Meyyors!” Frankie exclaimed as her face turned a shade of red almost as dark as Dean’s fur.  

“relax Frankie I don’t mean no harm, just giving your new ‘friend’ a hard time.” Ash said with a grin that made Dean a little more than uncomfortable. “well cut it out Ash! I have to get changed and I can’t be worrying that your going to run him off before I finish.” Frankie said with a very serious (and to Dean mildly unsettling) look in her brown eyes.

“OK, OK, I will leave him alone while you get ready.” Ash said as she raised her hands in surrender.

“good.” was all Frankie replied before offering Dean a sincere smile and walking off to her room to get ready for their date.

Dean stood in the small room processing what had just happened, as far as he had know he had never been the focal point of a conversation (let alone an argument) that he had not started or contributed to before. He was entering all kinds of new territory in these last twenty-four hours, except this time it wasn’t a battlefield (or at least not a physical one) and he was completely exposed and defenseless against an incalculable number of possibilities that could either make or break whatever he had with Frankie.  Dean was a Marine, he charged at death head on, but these thoughts… these unknown quantities… they scared him more than anything else he could remember. Dean didn’t generally open up to people he just met there was something different about Frankie, something he couldn’t quite put a name to, but something that he knew was there for sure.

Mean while in her bedroom, Frankie was looking over her wardrobe and debating on what exactly to wear for that afternoon.  She looked over several dresses she owned and decided against wearing one, she was never comfortable in a dress and didn’t want to be uncomfortable on her date. She finally decided on a pair of black jeans with her sneakers and a dark purple tang-top with a black leather jacket to add some flair. “looks good and feels even better!” she thought to herself as she headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for her day out.

Dean sat in silent thought and sipped a glass of water as he waited for Frankie. What type of movie should they see? Should they stop to eat lunch first? And the most important question on his mind, What exactly do you do on a date? The last question hit him like a tone of bricks, what do you do on a date? Dean had never dated before (even though most of his platoon always said he probably had his choice of any vixen back in his home town) and he had no idea on what the ‘norms’ for a date where (although he assumed that this was going to be anything but normal) and this sudden realization made his stomach bind itself into what felt like a sailors knot.

“what have I gone and got myself into?” he thought to himself as he rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “I don’t know the first damn thing about courting a woman… oh you ignorant old war dog.. rushing in head long with out a clue…” he mono-logged in his head as he let out a low sigh. Should he just write a note and leave? No, that would be the cowards way out. Maybe knock on her door and say he’s feeling ill? No, he doesn’t want to lie to her either. The more Dean looked for an escape route, the more he questioned why he was doing so, when all of a sudden as he was in mid thought he caught a glimpse of Frankie and his train of thought vanished faster than a wallet at a pickpockets convention. Such a simple outfit and yet she looked so beautiful in it.

“are you just gonna stare or are we going out?” Frankie asked with a slight smirk on her face.

“out…” was all Dean could muster as a stuttered response as he followed Frankie out of the apartment.

Dean opened the door of the Nova for Frankie and gave a gentlemanly bow as he gestured for her to enter the vehicle.

“you clean up nice AND can act like a gentleman, I may have found a keeper.” Frankie cooed with a smirk.

“don’t go thinking your gonna domesticate me or something.” Dean said with a wide grin on his muzzle. “i am a savage war dog after all.” he said with a deep chuckle.

“oh har har, I’m sure your just some big sweetheart under all that gruff and muscle.” Frankie said as she felt her cheeks fill with crimson. “i mean you are taking me on a date after all.” she said with a giggle.

“well, I do suppose your right about that.” dean said with a smile. “but I’m still picking the movie.” he said with laughter in his voice as Frankie began to pout. “man…. I was sure you had forgotten about that condition…” she said as she crossed her arms.

“i never forget conditions of an agreement I’ve made.” Dean said with an amused look as he watched Frankie. “and I think I have a perfect idea for a movie.” Dean said with a devilish smirk on his muzzle.

“whats that?” Frankie asked with morbid curiosity.

“oh, you’ll see.” Dean said as his smile grew and a low growl formed in his voice.

The pair pulled up to the movie theater around eleven-fifty in the morning.  Dean found a place to park his car and then got out and opened Frankie’s door before offering her his hand and helping her out. “well Dean, if I had to take a guess I’d say you where actually trying to impress me.” Frankie said with a smile.  

“well I would be lying if I said that had nothing to do with it, but I was also raised to treat a lady with respect.”  Dean replied with a smile of his own as he offered Frankie his arm.

“well I think you paid close attention to your parents teachings.” Frankie said as she took his arm and he led her to the entrance of the theater.  

“Sergeant Keysr, welcome back sir!” a voice rang out as the pair approached the ticket booth.

“Sebastion, I told you that I’m retired and I’m a Marine, I don’t have any authority over a national guardsman.” Dean said with a small sigh of annoyance (although Frankie could tell by Dean’s body language that he wasn’t bothered one bit by the situation.)

“i know sir, I just don’t feel right calling an officer, former or otherwise, by their first name.” Sebastion replied, still holding up a salute to Dean.

“at ease Sebastion.” Dean said as he returned the salute.  “i would like two tickets for ‘nights of silence’ and please don’t call your manager to override the sale, I feel bad when you guys give me free tickets.” Dean said with a menacingly serious look on his face.

“are you sure, sir?  Fredrickson told me to let you in for free whenever you want.” Sebastion said with curiosity in his voice.

“are you questioning an officer?” Dean replied with a smirk on his face.

“no sir!” Sebastion all but screamed as a look of panic washed over his face. “calm down Sebastion I’m just kidding, just sell me the tickets and I won’t report this insubordination.” Dean said still smirking.

“yes sir, two tickets for ‘nights of silence’ and enjoy the show.” Sebastion said as he gave Dean his tickets and change.

“thanks Sebastion, I appreciate it.” Dean said as he gave the young man a salute and walked Frankie inside.  

“what was all of that?” Frankie asked.

“that, my dear Frankie is a story for another day.” Dean replied with a smile on his muzzle and a half-lidded look on his face.

The pair entered the lavishly furnished theater and stopped a few feet in as Frankie took in the sight of her surroundings

“good lord Dean! I didn’t even know this place existed!” Frankie said as her eyes twinkled in wonder.

“yea I kinda know the owner, me and Edward Fredrickson go way back.” Dean said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “its a bit of a long story, I’d be happy to tell you later on.” he finished as he smiled at Frankie.

“who don’t you know, Dean?” Frankie said with a small chuckle. “i will hold you up on that offer though, I’m curious on how you know the owner of a place like this.” Frankie said as she smiled brightly at Dean.

“sounds agreeable enough to me, now for the most important part of this little rendezvous, the junk food!” Dean said as he licked his lips.

The pair finished ordering from the concessions stand and began heading to the section of the theater where ‘nights of silence’ was about to be played, but as they approached Frankie was struck with an idea.

“hey Dean?” she beckoned.

“yes Frankie?” Dean replied.

“can you take my popcorn and find us some seats? I need to umm… ‘powder my nose’ real quick.” Frankie said shyly.

“yea, no problem Frankie, I like to stick in the back rows so just look for my ears poking up.” Dean said with a smirk.

“will do, Dean.” Frankie replied with a small laugh as she turned and walked away.  

As Dean entered the screening area and found a seat he began wondering if taking her to an old horror film was a good idea, what if she didn’t like the cliches? What if she wasn’t even a fan of the genre? Dean decided that if it seemed like she didn’t enjoy the film that he would treat her to a meal she wouldn’t soon forget.

As soon as Frankie was sure she was out of Dean sight she went back to the concession stand. “excuse me I forgot to order a drink and I’d like to order one of your sixty-four ounce fountain drinks, please.” she said with a small smile as she set her money on the counter. “thank you, and keep the change sir.” she said as she took her cup and went over to the drink dispenser and proceeded to mix up a concoction of her own design that she called ‘nitro’ due to the caffeine content it had. Once she was content with the drink she headed back into the screening area and found Dean.

“here, we didn’t order a drink so I figured we could share one.” Frankie said as she handed him the cup. “its my own little mix I came up with, I call it ‘nitro’ I just hope you enjoy it as much as I do.” she finished, leaning over and taking a sip of the drink in Dean’s hand.

“thanks Frankie, that was really thoughtful of you.” Dean said before taking a drink himself. “wow! that’s got a helleva kick to it, huh?” Dean said as the flood of flavors hit his taste-buds. “its damn good, how’d you come up with this?” he asked still smacking his lips in approval.

“accident, like all great discoveries.” Frankie said with a smirk and a ‘matter-of-fact’ look on her face.

“well you should write this down for future generations to enjoy.” Dean said with a smirk of his own.

“i very well may do that, now shush the movies starting and I wanna know just what your going to make me sit through.” Frankie replied as she turned her focus onto the screen.

[birooksun]

So I made a story based on this Riddler Fangirl picture. I’m stopping it now because if I don’t it’ll become a whole novel and I’ve already got 2 giant WIP’s right now. 

She first saw him on the news, a story about a criminal now locked up who used riddles to lead Batman to solves his crimes. They posted a clip of his face and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen until it was pulled down. He apparently was killing people with death traps they had to escape from. She debated missing school just to find out more about this man, but decided not to. 

She needed to expand her mind and learn more. Something just pulled her towards him, this man was a genius and instead of being bullied for it, he was testing and killing off those who couldn't pass his tests. 

By the time she returned home she was carrying a bag full of books of riddles, trivia, and a few self-help books on sharpening her mind. She also had a newspaper with an article on Gotham and the rogues. There was a description and picture of each of the main ones on it. She cut out the one of Riddler and pinned it to her wall. She gave a smile just looking at his smirk as he held up the sign with his name and prisoner designation number. "I'm going to prove to everyone I can be just as smart as you."  

She spent the next few years sharpening her mind, attending community college with her AP classes and finding information on the Riddler at the same time. Her parents worried a little bit about her obsession, but decided to leave it be since it was making her into a model student even if she still had only a few friends. Hannah was startled by her dad one day when he opened the door to her room. "What smells like smoke?" She jumped and bumped the soldering iron against her hands and gave a hiss of pain. "Sorry dear! I was worried you had burned something." He grabbed the ice pack from her dorm fridge they had gotten her for her birthday. "What are you making this time?" He unplugged the soldering iron as he sat next to her and placed the ice pack on her hand. 

"Oh um, I saw the Riddler trophies mentioned on the news and how he was using them to mark how many people could solves his problems and death traps. I decided to make one myself as a night light." She bit her lip and looked up at her dad, wondering how he would react. He gave a small sigh and looked over at her wall. There were newspaper clippings and even photos printed out from the internet. There was a corkboard filled with riddles and location answers. He gave a frown and looked back at his daughter with concerned eyes.

"Hannah, I love how much you've applied yourself to being a good student and I know you already got accepted to Gotham University, but I just ask you don't do anything to get yourself killed. I know you look up to this man, and it's probably because of the bullying you used to receive at school, but remember we will love you no matter what. I just don't want to turn on the Gotham News Channel and see your name listed as a victim, alright?" He placed a hand on her shoulder and walked out of her room. He turned and gave her a smile as he closed the door. "Also, don't burn anything down."

"It was one time!" She shouted back. She looked back to her tv, glad her parents had satellite so she could watch the news in Gotham. She gave a smile looking at the reports of the latest breakout. "Life must be so exciting there." Hannah stood up and plugged the iron back in, working on the last bit of wiring. She gave a squeal of excitement when she flipped the switch and it came to life. "I did it! I made my own Riddler Trophy!" She placed it next to her nightstand and decided to work on her book of crossword puzzles some more before dinner. She was so excited that in a couple months she'd be living in Gotham. Who knows, she could even meet her idol in person. Maybe she'd even be smart enough to solve his riddles in real time and track him down, or solve one of his death trap puzzles and get her own trophy.

Dinner was a quiet affair, her mother reminding her to pack her things light enough to load on the dolly and carry into the penthouse. Hannah smiling and nodding along because she was glad to have such supportive parents. "But Hannah dear, you must attend a few of Wayne's events if you can. Show that our family supports his causes of course." Hannah gave a tight smile. She hated the parties, she hated hearing whispers of how plain looking she was, how she had to be from money because why else would she be there? As she looked at her plate she thought of how Riddler wouldn't judge her for her plain looks. He'd see how brilliant she was. He wouldn't whisper behind her back like others did. "Yes mother. I'll be sure to attend a few charity events, but I will be busy with school." She looked pointedly at her parents, reminding them that for her the mind always came first.

Her father spoke up as he handed her a few pamphlets. "I also found some martial arts schools near where you'll live. Darling I know you've wanted to move to Gotham since you started highschool, but it's not safe and even with the driver we hired to take you to and from campus I'd like for you to be able to defend yourself if need be. There's also a few pamphlets for near the university if you'd like to be closer to school. It's entirely up to you. Just tell us who to write the check to honey." 

Hannah smiled and looked up at him. "Thanks Daddy, that really means alot to me." She thought to herself as she ate. Should she search him out? Or just find and follow his riddles like Batman did and keep the knowledge to herself. A daring thought entered her head- what if she instead left riddles for him to find her? They'd have to be challenging, she'd have to prove how brilliant she really could be. She finished her dinner and left for her room, looking around the boxes and her eyes fell upon the Riddler trophy she built. Maybe if she left her own for him? They couldn't be green, but what about purple? 

A plan started to form in her mind but first she needed to get to Gotham and start learning martial arts just in case. It never hurt to be prepared.

Two months later found her and the movers her parents hired carrying everything into her penthouse. She went to the second bedroom and started to set up her computer system as the movers placed all her boxes in the marked rooms. One of them stopped and stared in surprise as she started drilling into the wall to place the primary monitor and then proceeded to set up the other two monitors. 

"That is an impressive looking set up there miss. Three monitors?" He gave a whistle. She felt slight annoyance he'd be checking out her computer instead of working.

"Thank you, I've built the computer into the desk so it was easier to set up." She went back to work, ignoring the worker who left the room. She grabbed her step-ladder and set up the fourth monitor and made sure to tilt it enough she could see while sitting down. Humming a song to herself she turned it on and started some system tests to make sure everything went well in the move. She had one monitor showing the diagnostics and knowing it would keep running and recording the data she left the room to check over the movers work. After they had brought the last thing up, the bed she thanked them for their help and tipped them before watching them all walk out of place.

She walked over to one of her boxes labeled BD#1 and opened it, giving a sigh of relief that everything was intact. She carefully pulled out the framed photo, the magazine cover from when he developed the award winning game, and newspaper clippings. She devotedly put up the framed picture of him smirking as he held his cane out. It had been a picture someone snapped of him facing off Batman. She placed near it the very first photo she hung up of him, his mugshot, then on the other side the magazine cover and surrounding it all clippings from the Gotham News and various articles mentioning him. She stood back when her work was done, smiling to herself. She's made it to Gotham, she was dual majoring in Computer Sciences and Business. Though she was only taking Business classes for her parents benefit though. She didn't want to take over the Realty Empire they had. She just wanted to meet The Riddler. 

Hannah stepped back and sat down on her bed looking around the penthouse that would be her home for at least the next four or five years. She curled up on herself, arms wrapping her arms around her long legs. Her college orientation was tomorrow and she wondered if she'd make any friends here. She knew of course she'd get a few people trying to climb the ladder by being her friend, but those were easy to pick out. They never cared until they heard the 'Vanderbilt' name; that's when they perked up and started being kind to plain-jane Hannah. Usually her reading or asking of puzzles and spouting trivia facts made them leave her in the end. She looked up at her collage of Riddler clippings and memorabilia, she bet he'd answer her questions, solve the puzzles with her, and even respond to her with trivia of his own. 

She smiled to herself, letting that warm hopeful feeling grow in her chest as she uncurled and started unpacking. She did make sure to pull out clothes for tomorrow. Deciding on her striped thigh highs, a pleated skirt, her green blouse and her gray sweater vest. She might get the usual Slytherin jokes, but while she'll happily wear her green and purple striped socks she wasn't sure on going completely in Riddlers colors. 

The next morning she stood in front of her full length mirror, smoothing her hair one last time and wondering if she should have tried to do something to make herself look nicer. Her mother always thought the pigtails were cute on her. She gave a sigh and adjusted the book bag while looking over herself. A tall scrawny girl stared back in the mirror. Her face was 'too pale' as her mother put it, light brown hair, pale green eyes and to top it all off she had freckles covering most of her face. Once again she wondered if she should try to wear makeup but she didn't know the first thing about it. Her mother always paid for her to get her face and hair done for events. She pushed her green rectangle glasses back up her nose. She gave herself a forced smile and was glad for years of braces at least giving her nice teeth before exiting to the university.

The driver dropped her off with a nod and a smile, she gave him a wave and left to find her orientation group. She saw a couple that looked her age standing nearby. "I don't know why you have to go to this orientation Babs, you've lived here your whole life!"

"It's for students to find where they'll be going and learn more about the school Dick! Plus, you're not even attending, you're still finishing high school." 

"Not every graduates early Babs." 

The beautiful red head turned away from her boyfriend, Hannah felt intimidated just being near the couple. She blushed when the tan skinned blue eyed man saw her and gave a charming smile. The redhead looked back and gave a soft smile to Hannah. "Hi there! I'm Barbara Gordon, you're here for orientation too?" She walked up and gave a firm handshake.

Hannah sucked in a breath and really hoped she wasn't blushing too hard. "Hannah Vanderbilt, yes I am. I just moved into town yesterday." She gave a weak smile as she looked down at Barbara Gordon. "I'm studying computer sciences and business management, you?"

"Pre-law and computer sciences." Hannah sagged in relief at meeting someone else double majoring. Barbara turned and smirked at Dick. "See Dick? First person I meet is also double majoring. So take that." She looked back at Hannah and gave a small laugh. "Sorry, my boyfriend was making fun of me for double majoring. He says I don't have to prove myself, but we know all us girls have to, right?" She winked at Hannah.

Hannah was surprised, this beautiful woman was actually talking to her still? She was double majoring as well? She blinked and realized the two of them were still looking at her expecting a response. "I'm sorry, it's just that people have one of two reactions towards me and you've both given neither." She gave a short giggle and curled in on herself. "I'm a bit of a nerd and not even pretty so the fact that someone so pretty is still talking to me without even reacting to my last name is weird." She bit her lip as the two looked at each other.

Dick snapped his fingers, "Vanderbilt! Bruce has worked with your parents before. I thought it sounded familiar." He looked her over. "Being a nerd isn't bad. My little brother Tim's the biggest nerd I know." He turned and gave Barbara a kiss on the cheek. "See you later Babs. Let me know how it all goes." He waved towards Hannah and gave another smile as she blushed.

"Come on Hannah, let's find our orientation group. Maybe since we're both computer sciences we'll be grouped together." Barbara guided Hannah to one of the orientation leaders, taking faster steps to keep up the four inches of height difference. 

"So um Barbara, I heard you say you live in Gotham? Are there any martial arts dojos you recommend? My parents wanted me to study one for general safety." She threw back her hair and laughed. "You just asked the daughter of the police commissioner about general safety. Yeah I can recommend a few. There's also a women's self defence class my dad makes me go to."

-- She'd done it, she solved one of Riddler's riddles and gotten there in time. Months of following the leads, of finding and solving the puzzles to collect his trophies, this was her moment! When she snuck in she saw Riddler fighting Batman and had to hold her hands over her mouth. He was beautiful, he moved fluidly and quipped at Batman while fighting, mocking his ability to solve his puzzles without help. She saw Batgirl jump in to fight as well. 

She couldn't fight back the anger that welled up inside her. "No cheating allowed on Quizzes!" She shouted as she jumped in and blocked a kick Batgirl had aimed at Riddler. He gave her a puzzled glance and went back to his fight while Batman ignored her. She focused on Batgirl and the two of them fought against each other. Hannah was trying to move the two of them away from Batman and Riddler. 

"Who are you and why are you defending this creep?" Batgirl's voice sounded familiar. Hannah blocked a punch and kicked her in the stomach while moving back to keep a distance. She knew the mask and makeup she applied hid her face, this girl wouldn't figure her out. She was glad she'd been getting herself used to moving around and fighting in combat boots. It was very different than in a dojo. She was also glad she'd put on her purple leggings under her green skirt as opposed to her usual thigh highs. Batgirl was making her do some high kicks and rolls during this fight. "You're obviously not officially with him. That's a homemade costume! Who wears a skirt while fighting?"

Hannah grinned as she grabbed Batgirl's cape during a roll and pulled her down hard. "Who wears a cape while crime fighting? The Scarlet Pimpernel surely didn't, written in 1905 by Baroness Emma Orczy." She jumped back while Batgirl pulled herself up, "She had the sense to write a masked vigilante without a cape."

"Trivia? Really during a fight?" Batgirl almost caught a hit on Hannah when she decided to try a new move she had seen recently in a movie. She dropped to the ground and swung her leg out while spinning in a circle. She made sure to keep the leg above the ground so Batgirl couldn't jump over it. She ended up being knocked down and hitting her head. Hannah paused, lightly massaging her leg while waiting to see if Batgirl would get up. She didn't and Hannah knelt by her to check her pulse while making sure she wasn't bleeding. 

Satisfied Batgirl would be alright she ran over to where Riddler was starting to lose his fight with Batman. "Need a player two?" She asked while knocking aside a fist Batman had aimed for Riddler's head.

"If you can be obliged." She tried to fight back against Batman, but his punches and kicks were a lot harder than Batgirls. Hannah quickly learned she couldn't block against him, she had to evade or redirect his blows. She got a lucky shot in against Batman and made him step back. Riddler used the moment to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her with him as he ran for an escape. "Time to bid you adieu Batman!" She felt her heart racing as he pulled her along. This was her moment, she was finally meeting The Riddler. She had actually helped him fight against both Batman and Batgirl. 

She felt herself gasping for air by the time they stopped and he pulled her behind a pillar. He placed a gloved hand over her mouth to keep her silent as they heard someone running past them. She closed her eyes to burn this feeling in her memory. Her back against Riddler's chest, his arm heavy around her waist and pulling her close, the softness of his leather glove as he held it over her mouth. She could feel his heart racing as well. They stayed like that for a minute before he let go of her. 

This was the moment, this was her idol, he was standing right in front of her and she couldn't think of a proper opening sentence. "You have me today. Tomorrow you'll have more; as your time passes, I'm not easy to store. I don't take up space, but I'm only in one place; I am what you saw, but not what you see. What am I?" Her face was flushed as he laughed, throwing his head back and placing one hand on his chest.

"Why memories my little Quizlet." He gave that roguish smirk she'd only seen in pictures and on tv, it made her knees tremble. "Is this one you never want to forget?" Hannah just nodded, her throat tight and she knew even through all the makeup he could probably see her blush.

"I-" Speak hannah speak! "I've admired you for years Mr. Riddler." She wanted to slap herself, did she really just say that?

He looked a touch surprised and gave her a soft smile. "So you strived to become as intelligent as me? You make a costume and actually came looking for me?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, she could feel the warmth through his glove and her blouse. "I liked your entrance. Very impressive." She wondered if there was blood anywhere in her body except her face. "Come on little Quizlet. You should head home." She felt cold, he didn't want her? She was sure the disappointment was evident as he gave another soft smile. "Of course I shall have to escort you to ensure your safety." She smiled at him.

"Of course, that seems like the logical conclusion to all of this." She looked around where they were and sighed in defeat. "I've gotten turned around and have no idea where we are sadly. I used a map to get to your location."

"Well I know Gotham very well, just tell me the adress." When she told him he raised an eyebrow. "Little rich girl too? That's an expensive area." She bit her lip and blushed in shame, he couldn't be like everyone else, could he? 

"That's all anyone sees me as. They don't see my brain." He moved her out to the street with his hand still on her shoulder and guided her several blocks to a simple looking sedan before climbing in the driver's side. She walked around and sat down in the passenger seat, looking down at her hands. She failed somehow, he didn't see her intellect and passion. She was still plain-jane Hannah, even if he kept calling her Quizlet. 

"Riddle me this little Quizlet, what can travel around the world yet stay in one spot?"

"Easy, a stamp." She gave a smile, "You use a knife to slice my head and weep beside me when I am dead.”

"Onion of course. How do you make seven even with adding, subtracting, multiplying, or dividing?"

She gave a small laugh, "Drop the S." She looked from her lap to his face, she could only see his profile but he was beautiful, he was smiling now and she loved it. "What has a foot on each side and one in the middle?"

"Yardstick. Marking mortal privation, when firmly in place. An enduring summation, inscribed in my face."

"Tombstone." She couldn't look away from him and glanced up at his hair escaping from the bowler cap. "I move very slowly at an imperceptible rate, although I take my time, I am never late. I accompany life, and survive past demise, I am viewed with esteem in many women's eyes. What am I?"

He glanced over at her at a red light and gave a smirk. She was glad to be sitting still because her knees felt even weaker and she felt so warm. "Would that be hair?" She gave a small nod. They drove in silence with her looking between him and her hands. He smirked to himself noticing her ears and neck were red, her face wasn't because of all that makeup caked on to hide her appearance. He wanted to laugh at the Questionmark she had placed on one cheek. It was so childishly adorable. They pulled up to the building and she thanked him and he decided to press his luck. "Aren't I invited in?"

She stumbled out of the car when he asked that, stuttering over her words. "O-Oh! Of cou- of course you are. I didn't- sure? Yeah." She coughed into her fist and cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. "Of course you are Riddler." She gave a smile, trying to regain that confidence she had when fighting Batgirl.  He stepped out of his car and walked up to her, noticing how he barely needed to look down to meet her eyes. Now that he really looked, they were a pale green. "Is there a way in without being seen?" He looked over the building, both hands behind his back as he rocked on his heels. 

"Only for me." She reached into her blouse and pulled out a small ring before walking up to an elevator. "It's a private entrance to my place." She bent down to place it against the scanner and after a single beep the doors opened. They both stepped inside and he gave a nod of appreciation as it went straight up without her needing to hit any buttons. 

"Fancy. So little Quizlet. Why did you jump in on the fight?" His bright green eyes were piercing as he looked down at her. He had a slight frown and she took a step back from the intensity of his gaze.

"Two on one is cheating. They were cheating!" She felt her hands make fists and could hear the blood rushing in her ears. "I hate when people cheat! If Batman really could defeat you himself he wouldn't need Batgirl to sneak up on you! He wouldn't need his gadgets! He shouldn't need help if he was really a worthy rival for you!" She was yelling. She couldn't believe she'd just yelled at her idol. Her hands quickly covered her mouth before she said anything else. 

His frown softened into a neutral expression as he looked back towards the doors. "Interesting." The doors opened and he walked into her penthouse. Hannah followed him into her own place, her head hung down in shame. "You should change out of that costume Quizlet. I want to see who you really are." 

She nodded and quickly walked into a room off to the side. While she scrubbed off the make up and cried to herself he looked around the livingroom. It felt barely lived in. There was a couch, a coffee table and a tv. No pictures of friends or family, no trinkets, just the bare minimum. He walked over to the kitchen, a bowl with only a few pieces of fruit sitting on a countertop, a mug placed next to a bottle of pills. He picked up the bottle and looked at it. 

"Hannah Vanderbilt, cyproheptadine, Initial dose: 2 mg orally four times a day, may increase gradually over 3 weeks to 8 mg orally four times a day. Hmm. Didn't take her for an anorexic." He looked over the kitchen and turned back to the main room, opening and looking in the other room. He paused in surprise at the screens and computer setup. One showed a red dot moving in a map of Gotham before it went out, another screen showed the CPU usage and a basic computer check up, the third screen was the internet with tabs open for homework, he looked over at the fourth screen and it showed an excel document listing his past crime locations and how close she had gotten. He gave a chuckle to himself at that one.

He looked around the dimly lit room, realizing the color was green he looked in a corner and saw a row of shelving with ten riddler trophies on it. He was shocked, he thought Batman was the only one out there collecting the trophies to stop the bombs from going off and assumed he was somehow cheating to get so many. He turned when more light entered the room and saw the little Quizlet, Hannah standing at the doorway.

"I wanted to prove I could be as smart as you. So I decided to start collecting the trophies. I wanted to leave my own and try to get you to notice me, but-" She paused and nervously twisted one foot on the floor. "I was too scared to." He looked at her, really looked at her and simply stated, "Yet you jumped into a fight with no issue?"

"I was angry. She was going to hurt you." She flipped the light switch on and glanced at the top monitor. "Oh, I guess he found my tracking device." She walked over to him slowly. He noticed she was pale and very thin for her height. She kept her face towards the ground but he saw the freckles covering it and had looked into her pale green eyes earlier. She was wearing a tanktop and a pair of waist high shorts with thigh high socks. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at the colors.

"They actually make purple and green striped socks?" 

"I custom ordered them. Most of my clothing is custom made." He walked over to meet her, placing a gloved hand under her chin.

"Look at me when you speak." Her head snapped up and he could see those pale eyes widen. She gave a small nod and he circled her, looking over her. He took off a glove and felt her light brown hair. "You don't take care of yourself. You are much too thin and your hair is dry."

She gave a sigh and narrowed her eyes at him. "My mother's said the same thing for years. I'm sure a man as intelligent as you has noticed the medication on my counter. They hope it'll increase my appetite and remind me to eat. I'm not anorexic, I'm not too thin, and yes my hair is always dry!" 

He placed one finger on her chest and pushed her lightly as he walked out of the room, forcing her to step backwards. "You will start drinking nutritional supplements if only to help you from losing weight with the martial arts you are obviously still taking." She pursed her lips. "It was obvious from the way you and Batgirl fought.  She's a student in your class, there were moments you two dropped into forms during the fight." He chuckled to himself. "Although I did like how you yanked her down with her cape. Well played. Though she will learn from that now."

"I know damn well who she is. I figured it out easily." She placed one hand back and pushed against him to keep from falling over the couch. 

"Good. Keep that puzzle to yourself, you never know when it'll come in handy." "I'm sure she figured out who I was, but I won't be positive until I see her in class tomorrow." He looked at her and saw the bruises forming from blocking Batman's punches. She looked at them as well. "I wear sweaters or longsleeved blouses all the time to begin with. Hiding the bruising won't be an issue Riddler." 

She gave a sigh and moved to sit on the couch. He sat down on the arm and placed his feet on the cushion next to her. He saw the small quirk of her lips, not the usual rich girl then. "By the way, as I'm sure you saw on the pill bottle. My name is Hannah Vanderbilt. I'm not entirely sure my parents would pay if you kidnapped me which is why I don't mind you knowing I'm an heiress."

"Surely they care enough about you to supply you with this penthouse and all the funds necessary." He leaned forward and rested one arm on his knee. "Or is it because they know you're doing this?"

She looked deep in thought for a moment then sighed. "Follow me." She stood up and began walking towards her bedroom. He took a second to follow her, wondering what exactly was going on now. She opened the door and he looked around the room, his eyes locking on one of the walls. It was almost a shrine to himself. "This is all they know." He slowly walked towards it. A framed magazine of him as Edward Nashton, hailing his video game, a framed copy of the game itself alongside it. His very first mugshot, newspaper clippings of articles mentioning him, pictures of him. It was all shocking. He backed up and sat down on her bed, just staring at the wall. Near the collage was a corkboard filled with riddles, reading them he realized they were the one's he's publicly used. His morse code riddle was even there. She sat down next to him. "You inspired me to become more. This wall, it's your transformation into something great, something legendary and looking at it reminds me I can become more. I can use my brain to prove myself."

"I'm honestly shocked." He jumped slightly when she placed her hand over his. 

"What are you-" She cut him off by placing a hand on his face.

"You're even more amazing in person. Seeing the way you move, those smiles you give. I have a feeling you could have any woman you wanted."

He regained his mental footing and moved her hand from his face, he still held it, unsure of where to put her hand. It was all surprising. "Now Hannah. Think of what you're trying to do." He thought back to the bottle and her date of birth on it. "You are 19, I'm in my 30's. We have a rather large age gap. I'm a wanted criminal, you have your whole life ahead of you and so many possibilities I never could have had. Why do you want to throw it all away?"

Her eyes watered up and she pulled her hands away to wrap them around her knees. "Validation. I had hoped you would look past my name, look past the fact that I'm a plain-jane, and see me for my mind." She sniffled and rubbed her eye. "I don't know, I had this stupid childish thought you'd meet me and become enamoured by my intellect. We could trade riddles back and forth like in the car and you wouldn't mind my spouting of trivia. I even thought that we could have something romantic."

He gave a sigh and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Everyone is disappointed when they meet their idol. I may not be enamoured by you, but I am impressed. You did a good job out there tonight. I really did love the no cheating on quizzes line. Fit perfectly." 

She looked to him. "Where do we go from here? I'm a criminal now, aren't I? You don't want someone like me holding you back, and I never planned past this moment." 

He squeezed her shoulder. "You're only a criminal if you get caught, and Batgirl can't implicate you without implicating herself. You are safe. I'm the only criminal in this room. As for what to do from here? If you really want to prove yourself, stick to your studies."

"I'm a dual major with a 4.0 average. I actually already earned my associate degree in high school through dual enrollment." He could see her hands turn into fists, the knuckles turning white. "It's never enough for those fucking socialites! I'm so sick of them all judging me for my looks over my intellect." He just pulled her against his chest in a hug. 

"People like those never matter. They're mere ants, nothing worth your time." He patted her on the back and she sat back up, wiping away silent tears. "Take the nutritional supplements, they and a proper diet will help your appearance. Skin and bones only works for Scarecrow."

"They won't change pale eyes, a bland hair color, or all these freckles." 

He looked back at the many pictures and articles on the wall. "There's one thing never mentioned in those articles. My parents, but only one is worth mentioning right now. As I'm sure you know I'm a natural redhead, even though I've colored my hair several times." He flicked his eyes over to hers and saw her nod. "My mother was Irish. I got my red hair and green eyes from her. What I didn't get were her freckles, sure I've got a few, but she had a face full of them like you do. She used to call them 'Angel kisses'." He paused and looked over at the 19 year old. "I always wondered as a kid why she would cover up so many kisses from The Angels. Of course I never realized it was just something said to make people feel better."

She gave a laugh. "It made me feel better. Thanks Riddler." She stood up and looked at the costume she had hanging in the closet. "So, Quizlet's retired for now?"

He stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "For now. Graduate first, schmooze with the elite and see if you can survive their world. Also if your hair bothers you that much, just color it." He turned her towards her full length mirror and placed his head on her shoulder pulling some of his hair over her face, "How about a nice auburn?" They both laughed and she smiled at him. "I'll see myself out, but take care of yourself. Graduate college, then we'll talk." He put his hat back on and replaced the glove he had in his pocket. "I suppose you do deserve an award for doing such a good job at your first attempt." He turned and gave her a smirk, it grew when he saw her face turn red. "Also, keep collecting those trophies. Use them as proof you're a good guy if you get caught." He placed his fingers under her chin and pulled her the few inches forward to kiss her. 

"Goodbye for now Hannah." She stood there in surprise as he walked away and into the elevator. 

"Goodbye Riddler." She smiled to herself and did a little dance as she skipped back to her bedroom. "What a night!" She tossed herself back on the bed. She giggled to herself and placed her hand on her lips. "My first kiss, from the Riddler! Wow." She sat back up and looked over at the costume, frowning. "If I know who Batgirl is, she has to have figured out who Quizlet was." She stood up and looked it over, taking the hanger off of the closet door and hiding it far in the back, behind all the evening gowns and shawls her mother insisted on her having. "I'll show the whole world who Hannah Vanderbuilt can really be. Then I can take up Quizlet again." -- Years later she got to see him in person, he was standing in the crowd as she stood next to Barbara Gordon, the two of them sharing a valedictorian speech. They'd both gotten 4.5 GPA with their dual majors and even separate internships. He gave her a smile and a nod, which she returned as she watched him turn and walk away. They both knew she'd don on a new costume soon. 

She wondered if Enigma was a better title than Quizlet.