#also is enigma dead? is she alive? who knows but what the fuck was that. what in the world

[surrender-souls]

there’s so many characters running around dc and so many incarnations and different versions and shit man i just wanna grill!

[genienotinabottle]

washed off with the rain // nicole & baz

TIMING: current-ish PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @genienotinabottle SUMMARY: baz and nicole run into a wild nuppeppō, and no one is entirely pleased about it. CONTENT: none

The arboretum near Hambry Park would always be one of Nicole’s favorite places in town. She cherished it not only for its beauty, but also for its sentimental value. She made her very first friend –her dearest friend– among those trees.

The walk to the botanical tree? Nowhere near as remarkable, however. A shiver ran down Nicole’s spine as she set foot in the cemetery. Although she wouldn't have to walk a far distance from her parking spot to the botanical garden, it wouldn't be an fun stroll. If she didn’t know better, she’d think someone planned for the cemetery to look gloomy every day. Today, it was covered in a thick dark mist, despite being surrounded by perfectly nice fall evening. 

Normally Nicole didn’t like to distract herself before making it inside the garden’s limits, but a foul smell reaching her nostrils stopped her in her tracks. She glanced down, lifting one of her boots. Maybe she had stepped— no, it was clean. So was the other boot. She considered ignoring it, a big ask actually, and just continue her walk, but a figure in her peripheral vision made her turn. 

After that, it was a case of putting two and two together. The smell, that wretched odor, was emanating from the other person in the cemetery, who had just made eye contact with her. Right? What else— Normally, Nicole would’ve kept quite. She was known to avoid conflict. She could’ve continued her journey towards the botanical garden. Except this person’s scent was… foul. Which was saying something, considering they were right by the cemetery. They could very well be ill, or worse…dead. She touched the tip of her nose, shrugging her shoulders before blurting out. “What the fuck?”

Nature walks were something Baz enjoyed more than people might expect. Most who knew them assumed they preferred the comfort of indoor life, and while they did enjoy being pampered, they’d been born in a time that was largely without most of the modern amenities people couldn’t live without now. Electricity was still a relatively new invention, and things like technology were still practically infants in the grand scheme of things. But nature? That had been around longer than Baz themself.

It always made for good inspiration, too. They’d sketched most of White Crest over the years they’d spent there, but the thing about White Crest was that it was always changing. More than usual lately, with the strange happenings about town. The fury had spent hours in the woods before moving on to the cemetery, sketching old gravestones with dates they’d been alive to experience. They were particularly distracted by their art today, carefully doodling without much care.

That was, of course, until the stench hit them.

It was an overpowering thing, heavy and putrid. Immediately, Baz’s nose wrinkled up with disgust and they shut the sketchbook quickly, as if afraid the smell might sink into the pages and make a home there. A quick glance around showed one other occupant in the cemetery, the other figure blocked from their view by the twisted branches of a nearby tree. She didn’t look like the sort of person who’d produce such a smell, but the scent was utterly undeniable. Baz made a face at her.

“You’re asking me? They do have showers here, love. You really ought to try one.”

Nicole scoffed in disbelief at their retort, even though, she had made similar assumptions. “Real funny” she grumbled, unwilling to discuss hygiene habits with this strange. All she wanted to figure out was why they smelled so awful. Though judging by the tone in their reply, she questioned if she should even care for this person’s well being.  A short dilemma, granted, as she knew better than to deal with this type of enigma all by herself. No, a team up was always the better option.

Nicole approached slowly, taking on the other person’s scent as subtly as could. It was rude to sniff, after all. Her apprehension towards them all but disappeared when she couldn’t place anything strange on them.  “Alright. So, it’s not you,” could anyone blame her for thinking it was? “And it’s not me, trust me” she added quickly, before the could interject. “So what the fuck is rotting out there? This isn’t the usual… aroma”. And maybe, if their conversation had started on a better note, she would’ve mentioned her past experiences with tomb raiding, but for time being, it was better to keep her crimes to herself. 

With the prime suspect out of the equation, Nicole began musing on other possibilities. Zombies? She vaguely knew their scent could be vile if not fed.  But she didn’t have enough experience to spot them or separate them from say, a trash bag. She paced around, eyes darting between the tall mausoleums and the tree branches that had grown alongside them. It was hard distinguishing anything immersed in the mist, but out of the corner of her eye, a shadow appeared. Covering her mouth with the inside of her elbow, she gestured to the creature. It was still partially hidden between tombs. An neglected animal, she considered, though a gut feeling strongly contradicted her thoughts. “Might be it” her voice alerted it of their presence, and instead of scurrying off like a scared animal would, it began to slowly approach them.

The fact that Baz was offended by the stranger’s assumption would come as no surprise to anyone who knew the fury. Truth be told, they had a habit of getting offended by most things. A large chunk of said offense was always for show, though. After a few centuries of living, you did learn to let things roll off you a little easier. But Baz had a reputation to uphold, and this reputation involved being utterly offended by the tiniest slight. They were very good at keeping it up.

Still, it was with curiosity rather than annoyance that they observed the woman as she stepped in closer, watching the way she subtly sniffed the air as she got close. The move proved that Baz had been telling the truth, of course, but it also allowed them to recognize that she, too, was not the source of the smell. The proximity to the stench remained unchanged even as the stranger drew nearer, a sure sign that she wasn’t the cause. “It’s not you,” they allowed begrudgingly, waving a hand in her direction. “It is an unpleasant smell, isn’t it? Certainly not the usual fare, though this town never smells heavenly.” It wasn’t even the rotting fish smell that had overtaken the town as of late. This was something new, and certainly not anything Baz wanted near them.

The woman seemed intent to figure it out, and Baz was content to trail behind her lazily as she investigated. They let her take the lead, of course. In cemeteries like this, things that went bump in the night were all too common, and Baz would much rather let a stranger be attacked than face such things themself. Before long, the pair had stumbled upon… something. It was difficult to make out what it was in the dark, though the scent was overpowering as they got closer. “I think we’ve found our prime suspect,” the fury mused, squinting at it as it approached. It was… Eugh. All right, it was horrifying. All pink and wrinkled, like one of those hideous mole rats magnified to a terrible size. And the smell! The smell was certainly the worst part. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Baz winced, “and I’ve seen multiple reality television stars the morning after a night out on the town. What is it?”

“You’d be right…” It wasn’t a hard observation to make, given the monster was now approaching them, carrying its stench along the way. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. But that was a inevitable, considering the town they lived in and the ground they stood on. Still, it was something unlike Nicole had ever seen. All wrinkles and skin folds (at least she thought it was supposed to be skin) with no real shape. Was there a real threat underneath it all? In no way did it look like it was seizing them, preparing to attack. It was difficult, she figured, to find any trace on intention in its faceless shape. Instead, the beast glided towards them as if he was meeting old friends.

“Hey! What if it can hear you? We don’t need it to be angry at us” Nicole chastised them, immediately searching for ears somewhere. In response to their second interjection, she turned around with furrowed brows, trying to decipher what they were saying. “Right…” she licked her lips, wondering if reality TV stars even existed in White Crest. Townsfolk would make for a more entertaining show than any of those TV personalities. However, she had no time to think about any of it since they were standing in front of a horrible creature, and that trumped beautiful TV people. “No fucking clue,” it was an obvious answer, and Nicole took a few steps forward, closing the distance. “I don’t think it has any plans to kill us, though. It might not even see us”. She was curious, as always, about any living being in White Crest, but it seemed… she might have just encountered the most underwhelming one of them all.

“It’s just… here” just like they were, having a stroll in the cemetery. Except it was stinking up the place as it went. Having settled that this abomination posed no danger to them, Nicole turned to suggest they leave it alone. But before she could even speak, the monster flapped one of its lumpy folds, akin an arm, and tried to reach for them. Nicole shuddered, bumping into her companion as she retreated. “Shit. Sorry”.

The closer the thing came, the more disgusted Baz appeared. They did little to hide their repulsion, nose wrinkled and expression scrunched. They even let out an overdramatic gag as the creature approached, turning their head away and bringing their fingers up to pinch their nose closed. “I hope it can hear me!” They exclaimed, raising their voice to further prove the point. “Maybe it’ll take the criticism to heart and find a shower!”

Despite the stench, the woman made a good point. The creature didn’t seem particularly interested in violence, even as it continued its approach. There was no underlying threat to the nature of its trot, no reason to think it meant any harm. The worst it could do, Baz assumed, was stink up their clothes. But of course, that was a fate the fury would very much like to avoid. 

“Well, it ought to just go someplace else. Perhaps the ocean, where no one can smell it.” Levi and Marina might have taken some offense to the suggestion, but neither was here to scold Baz for it. Before they could say much else, the creature… reached for them. Baz feld the woman bump into their arm as she scrambled back, and they followed suit, placing themself firmly behind her. If one of them was going to be eaten by this thing, it certainly wouldn’t be Baz. “Do something about it! God, if it touches me, I’ll burn this stupid cemetery to the ground.” 

Even if it could hear them, Nicole doubted this pile of gooey flesh had any sort of grooming habits. Disgusting, sure, but probably not by choice. What did she know, really? Maybe its whole purpose was to cause olfactory distress. Upon better inspection, it became evident that it was in fact, made out of real flesh. Her face wrinkled, new thoughts spinning in her head. How the fuck did this came to be?

Nicole held her hands up defensively, putting space between the creature and her. She had to give the stranger some credit for their conclusion, though. Not that she’d voice it out loud. It was possible, considering how everything in town was turned upside down, that it had been displaced from its natural habitat. Whatever good will they won with their assessment, however, was quickly lost as they stood behind her demanding things from her.

“Why do I have to do anything? You’ve hands too, no?” Nicole pushed, forcing them to keep stepping backwards. The further from the creature’s saggy, rotting arm, the better. The idea of arson made her scoff. She had enough experience with that to let it happen. “You’re a little dramatic aren’t you?” the lump of flesh continued to move, unaware of the fright it was inflicting. “Why do we have to do anything?” she muttered after a beat. Turning around, she grabbed their arm and pulled them away from the creatures path. She stood behind one of the gravestones, watching it slowly make its way. It really was just a pathetic little monster minding its business.

“Might give animal control a call… You think that’s a—” significantly less on edge now that they had put some distance between them, Nicole glanced at the stranger. “I mean, they don’t usually deal with this type of… animal”.  It wasn’t an animal, of course. But she tried to save face, even if she hoped this person wasn’t one of those who still pretended everything had some logical explanation in White Crest.

“My hands won’t be going anywhere near all that!” The fury allowed themself to be maneuvered backwards, wanting as much space between them and the creature as humanly possible. It wasn’t enough that they’d placed the woman strategically between themself and the blob — Baz wanted to be in a different zipcode from that wretched thing. Though they’d certainly lived long enough to see plenty of it, they’d never been a fan of things like this. Disgusting aspects of the world they lived in, things that smelled unpleasant and looked even worse. One thing they’d enjoyed about the evolution of human society was the move towards cleanliness. If they had to deal with things like this on a daily basis, they would have bought an island for themself by now.

At the (absolutely justified) accusation of drama on their part, Baz put a hand against their chest, doing their best to look absolutely offended. “Dramatic? You think I’m being dramatic? This thing is the worst creature I’ve ever seen upon this earth!” Probably not selling the claim that they weren’t being dramatic, especially not with how loud their voice had become, but the point stood all the same. 

Moving out of the creature’s path was certainly a good idea, Baz had to hand it to the woman. They scrambled to make sure that she still stood between him and it, even with the gravestone adding some added protection. The last thing they wanted was for it to brush up against them somehow, after all. “Why do we have to do anything? Because it’s a scourge upon this planet! Because it’s gross! Because I don’t want to live in the same place as it!” But the fury did relax a bit as the thing went on its way. 

“What’s animal control going to do? Catch it in a net? I’d rather call someone with a very large knife.” Knowing a hunter would be nice, in a situation like this one, though Baz wasn’t sure there were any hunters in White Crest who wouldn’t take offense to their… status of humanity. Still, it wasn’t as if there were many other people you could call for a thing like this. Levi might kill it for them if they asked nicely, but there was sure to be some sort of price tag attached. “Maybe you should try kicking it.”

Arms crossed, Nicole squinted at the creature. Were they perceiving two different monsters right now? “Okay, that’s not…” she tilted her head. Maybe from a different angle— no, still the same. It didn’t shoot anything, have fangs, or claws or wings. It was pathetic, really. So why not leave it be?  “Have you been around White Crest? cause fuck, I’ve awful news for you. Gets way worse than this”.

But yes, it was gross, Nicole conceded. Silently once again. She didn’t want them thinking they were making good points. “Hmm”. It wasn’t enough of a reason to intervene. This monster had barely any interest in them, it seemed. Was this stranger actually scared and just putting on a dramatic display? Nicole couldn’t tell how much of their act was real. If they were scared then maybe, she’d feel more inclined to actually help. Like she always picked up the spiders for Leah.

“Yeah, alright” she grumbled, begrudgingly. Animal control was pretty useless anyway. “I’m not killing it” Nicole scoffed at the mention of a knife. “It’s not bothering us. Except your eyes, I guess. And our noses”. And it was a good thing to never mention the axe she was carrying in her backpack. “I’m not— I’m not gonna kick it,” she doubled down. That’d be stupid. It’d be stupid right? To test the thing… Why did she entertain the thought for a second? This person was a bad influence with all their theatrics. “I’m not… going to do that” she began, hand mid air, stopping them from suggesting anything else. “If you’re that scared we— I can trick into going away. To the woods”.

“I’ve spent plenty of time in White Crest. I’d much rather face something that wanted to eat me than that.” It was, of course, categorically untrue. Not that Baz had been in White Crest for a while — that part was certainly the truth — but that they preferred deadly creatures to disgusting ones. For all the years they held beneath their belt, Baz was still something of a coward when it came to danger. But… yikes. That didn’t mean they liked seeing things like this. They’d need a few centuries of therapy if that thing came any closer, they were sure of it. 

Even Baz wasn’t sure how much of their display was for show and how much was genuine. It was something they’d learned early on in their life, before it became an immortal one; if you put on a show with enough gusto, you could begin to fool even yourself. And Baz was full of nothing if not gusto.

The show wasn’t having the full effect they’d been hoping for — if it were, this woman would already be killing the terrible creature and rescuing Baz from the stench of it — but it wasn’t entirely ineffective, either. Sending the creature into the woods wasn’t their favorite solution, but it was certainly far better than allowing it to remain out here in the open where Baz had to see and smell it. “Yes,” they nodded, not a hint of shame to their expression, “I’m terrified. Please, send it away. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

“Might wanna reevaluate those preferences” Nicole grumbled, mostly to herself. It was pointless to keep arguing. This creepy, horrifying sack of rotting flesh was probably worse than the apocalypse itself to them. She’d be the bigger person and respect this person’s fears. As ridiculous as they were, mind you.

She glanced at them as they spoke, lip twitching in annoyance. Nicole was exasperated by this stranger, just as she was in her inability to figure them out. They were playing with her, she was near certain of. Mocking her. But if they weren’t? Then, scaring it into the woods was a small thing to do for someone. Nicole could do that, couldn’t she? Brainstorming, her gaze had already returned to the creature when she heard her companion’s following sentence. She glanced at them, frowning deeply. What? The words sounded vaguely familiar. It had to be some sort of reference, going by context. But she didn’t have the time to access her very limited reference directory and remind herself why she had the inkling that this was some pop culture thing. “Yeah…okay. Fine,” she drawled, failing to inject the snark she wanted to.

But… How exactly was she supposed to do it? Lure it. Lure it— how? Did it eat? Did it see? “I…” Nicole shrugged, shooting the stranger a helpless look. Why did she have to get into these type of situations? Why did she offer? She rummaged through her bag, pulling out anything that appeared useful. A protein bar. Some change. Gum. Her flashlight. Bear spray. Could that maybe… ? She felt so stupid, coming out from behind the gravestone with— a can of spray in her hand. She covered her nose again, stepping more firmly. There was nothing to be scared of, but fuck if her eyes didn’t water as she neared. Hope hanging by a thread, Nicole pushed the button, spraying the lump with it and waited. 

“No, I’m very confident in my choices. Being eaten would be a far kinder fate than this. If it touches me, I’ll have to burn everything I own, just to be thorough.” Their tone was theatrical, their voice loud enough to actually draw the beast they were lamenting against towards them rather than scare it away. Baz, of course, was too busy being dramatic to make note of this.

In any case, they figured they wouldn’t have to worry about the beast long-term. This woman, as annoyed as she might be, seemed willing to scare it into the woods for them so long as they acted as if their fear was real and not played up for the drama. Baz stared at her as she studied them, showing no sign that they were being anything but truthful. She didn’t seem to catch the Star Wars reference — though she was young enough that she may only be familiar with the newer pieces of the franchise, like the ridiculously high budget television shows the kids were raving about — but they decided to let it slide. Given the choice between explaining a pop culture reference and being rid of the skin flap monster, Baz would much prefer the latter.

Though she’d have to figure out how to get rid of it first. The expression on her face told them that she wasn’t exactly confident in her ability to uphold her promise of shooing the thing away, and Baz inched back a little to put more space between the two of them just in case they needed to use her as a distraction to make a quick getaway. They watched, wide-eyed, as she fished bear spray out of her bag and inched towards the creature, leaning forward in anticipation just a little as she sprayed the canister. The world seemed to hold its breath alongside her as the spray shot out towards the lump of flesh, and then —

It scurried back, shaking what Baz thought might be its head as it worked to put distance between itself and the spray. The fury cheered loudly. “Do it again!”

Her jaw tightened at the mention of fire, again. Stopped talking altogether. She wouldn't even let this person joke about such stuff. She was a little bit traumatized, maybe. Instead, Nicole poured her energy on the task at hand.

Somehow, after the initial spray, the creature retreated. Baffled, Nicole examined the can, wondering what was inside that equally repelled a fleshy monster and a bear. And shit— there were more important things than spray ingredients to worry about, and her companion’s voice travelled fast to remind her what was at stake. She did as told. Because fuck it, it was working. And though it wasn’t the most agile of creatures, it crept away and away and Nicole continued to aim at a particular angle that would trick the lump into escaping towards the trees. 

By the time she had successfully guided the monster away from the cemetery, there was no spray left. She shook the can, pressing the button one final time until nothing came out. Just in case. After that, she waited, watching the creature’s behavior, making sure it wouldn't return. She turned towards the stranger, eyebrow arched. “There. You good now?” She huffed. Nicole still needed to make it to the arboretum on time, so the sooner she ensured that no further danger was lurking, the sooner she could go about her day.

She didn’t seem to like talk of fire, though Baz was too wrapped up in their own dramatic rambling to notice her discomfort. They were far too focused on the creature and her promise to dispose of it, far too interested in seeing whether or not she was successful. If she wasn’t, they would certainly grow more unruly. 

But that, it seemed, wasn’t something they needed to worry about. The bear spray, for whatever reason, acted as an effective deterrent against the beast, Baz’s hands clapping together filling the space with sound that only seemed to scare the creature more as the woman sprayed it again. Its movements were odd, unnatural, but so long as they were taking it away from Baz, the fury didn’t care much what they looked like. They watched as their savior continued to chase the beast until it was waddling off towards the treeline, trailing behind them both like a curious child.

Grinning as the woman turned back towards them, Baz flashed her a double thumbs up. “Lovely,” they confirmed. “You’re my hero, truly. A knight in shining armor! You put Christopher Reeve to shame!” 

Nicole stared at them, unblinking as her lips curved into a frown. Now, who was Christopher Reeve? Another reference, surely. But the one famous Christopher she knew, was Columbus. And they couldn’t possibly be… trying to reference him, right? That was pretty damn offensive considering— “I’m no hero” she huffed a humorless reply, almost certain she was still being mocked.

“Right… uh, so I’m gonna—” Nicole put the spray away, rubbing her hands awkwardly when silence settled in. “You keep doing— whatever it was you were doing,” she walked past them, making her way back to the path towards the garden. Only, and only because she had seen their reaction to the fleshy creature, Nicole turned, dropping the annoyance from her tone as she acknowledged them again. “Just… ah, be careful and shit. Not everything out there can be repelled with bear spray” she warned. That monster, whatever it was, had been inoffensive. Unlike the rest of the beasts lurking in the woods. Whether this person pretended otherwise or not. 

Having issued her final warning, Nicole gave them a nod of goodbye. What else was she supposed to do, really? She didn’t have in her to blurt out some pleasantry like ‘see you around’. She definitely didn’t want to see them or their dramatics around. A nod. That was all she managed before heading to the botanical garden, where a much less stressful evening waited for her.

[kelmping]

memory post incoming (last update: nov 7)

i don’t. remember much. pre-gowpenny. i only have a couple of memories, and they’re… weird.

i was born on december 13th, 2002. a friday. because fucking of course it was. my mom raised me on her own until i was about eight, at which point i started to tumble through the foster system. i don’t know what happened, but it was definitive that i would never and could never return to her care.

i know i was an undiagnosed autistic (which i. figured out later), along with some other stuff (anxiety, depression, adhd, ptsd, a separate complex ptsd diagnosis…) so i wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out i had memory problems. (the rest of my system does too, so.)

i know that i was kind of a loner, though. people tended not to like me, so i just stayed out of their way unless i needed something. sometimes that meant sitting alone to read at recess as a kid. sometimes it meant just staying low and quiet and hoping to whatever the hell is out there that nobody found me wherever i was sleeping on the streets.

suicide cw: i wasn’t. always. super crazy about being alive. i found out i couldn’t die the hard way. and even then, i tested it more than once.

i experienced psychotic symptoms, though not always with the same regularity. as i got a handle on my magic, they eased up, but i’d go through stretches that lasted for weeks without too much… intrusion? it was manageable. but then there would also be stretches of time where i didn’t trust myself with my wand and told my familiar to fuck off back to iowa. my friends were a really big help ;;;

jammer was my first best friend. k and sam started out as regular friends, but we all got closer as time went on. (i took after jammer a lot, heh. that’s social mimicry for you.)

he also had locs similar to lou wilson’s, with the bleached ends from mismag and the length from fantasy high.

k kept going by dream among the four of us, so i use their names (as well as she/they/he/xe pronouns) interchangeably.

i did have a silly crush on them. we dated, just like in canon. but i also dated jammer, and k also dated sam, who was… the label i would use now for the two of us would be an unspoken queerplatonic partnership.

i wasn’t really. as… giggly. as brennan played me being, when i first told philtrum i didn’t want to be magical. i was more, just. scared. apologetic. i was worried she’d toss me out on my ass with no help either way.

oh my god. you have no idea how stressful it was to listen to the first part of episode 4. i already knew i hadn’t given up my magic, but watching it play out was… whoof.

i think there were some minor differences between what happened in canon and my actual reactions. i don’t remember them very well, though.

i just. collapsed. after the whole thing with sam and the shadow. grabbed sam as tight as i could and broke down sobbing. and i was. really. really lucky to have such amazing friends.

the fuckingggg. stupid goddamn tournament arc. k is so fucking cool, and i was like. genuinely fucking scared i was gonna kill that guy from rosewood or rosewand or whatever the hell his school was called. that bravado was allllll me just channeling jammer as much as fucking possible. i was shaking as i got ready. probably still as the duel actually started.

the duel went differently than it did in canon. i guess the roll was low, or too high, or. something. i don’t know. but i didn’t just send that kid to hell, like, mentally. he was physically dead for between five and thirty seconds. time is. an enigma. and i just stood there shaking as he dropped.

as soon as i snapped out of it i rushed forward to… i don’t know, try to help somehow? but nurse stitchnit pushed me aside and resuscitated him. i almost sobbed when he started breathing again, even though he was coughing up blood.

the guilt of that ate away at me for a long time. it still does, sometimes. but he lived, and i’m very glad he did. and, frankly, glad he was able to tell me to fuck off afterwards. good for him. lord knows i deserved it.

needless to say, it was much less, uh. jubilant. i just wanted to sit down and be left alone, but i was lucky to have friends who understood that i both shouldn’t be completely alone and couldn’t talk about it.

jammer’s link with alexis had lingering effects that manifested both magically and as scars and chronic pain. most of the time he was alright, but overworking himself would wipe him out for weeks.

i love my friends. a lot. like, yeah, i was dating k and jammer, but. all three of them were my fucking family. sometimes we’d all end up sleeping on a couch in the common room, or in a single. twin. bed. with four teenagers in it. it was a mess, and physically uncomfortable at times, but i literally never felt emotionally safer than when we were all just hanging out and doing fuck all.

nurse stitchnit is like. almost a dad to me? like a surrogate, adoptive dad. he was always the adult that i trusted most. he offered to let me stay with him at the end of the school year, actually. i had plans, though.

the holiday special. um. the party? when i felt that darkness creeping up? instant panic attack. hence the, uh. freaking out. apologies for that.

pretty sure the icy water inside tad was, like. magical in the sense that it was cold enough to cause frostbite with too much contact, similarly to how human blood is hot inside the body. it “damaged” my hand like when i grabbed penfrew.

also. broken ribs. not fun. i was concussed too, and i just wanted my friends close, but it hurt to hold them too tightly.

i guess the “roll” of my timeline that dream did to heal me failed, because i remember that the recovery took a while and was pretty miserable. thankfully, i was also pretty out of it. and my friends and nurse stitchnit made sure i knew i wasn’t alone. they took good care of me.

i was asked at one point why i slept, like. curled up? i didn’t really realize i did it. something, something, autism, something, something, growing up really tall while trying to avoid being noticed Too Much. probably. i dunno.

at the end of the year, i went to stay with my friends for the three months of break. jammer, then k, then sam. i don’t remember a lot of specifics, but i know their families were at least nice.

i showed up in the background of some of sam’s streams by accident, while i was staying with her. i had a weird little mini-fanbase within her fans? it was. interesting. kinda flattering, kinda weird. that one comment section spell came in handy. (eventually i did a stream with her. it was a lot of fun, honestly.)

sam encouraged me to start my own channel, so i decided to document my experiences as a first-generation mage living with both psychological issues and genuine curses. it had a pretty wide range, from relaxed gaming streams and pictures of myself and my friends to dream’s multi-hour video essays about social issues that i’d helped write. (i eventually learned to separate that stuff out, though, considering i gained a sizable following despite still being fairly reserved.)

at some point, jammer effectively said this:

down the line, years post-gowpenny, we had a daughter named bailey. biologically she was sam and jammer’s, but all four of us were her parents. (sam was mom/mama, k was ren/renny, jammer was papa/pop, and i was dad.) we all loved her more than anything, and the day she was born was one of the best of my life.

at an indeterminate point post-gowpenny (after we’d all graduated), i lost my right leg from about the knee down. unfortunately for the others, i also Could Not stay still, and spent more time than i probably should have using them as makeshift supports. mostly jammer, since he was the closest to me in height, but sam and dream were just as willing to help me out. and i’m pretty sure stitchnit ended up needing to carry me a couple of times…

[deststranding]

Okay so this is inspired by @long-boy-in-the-soup‘s post but i went through sav’s two truths two lies to see whats poppin w/ em. Also feels like worth noting that im pretty sure sav made all of these pre season of the splicer? So i’m not sure how much context that could change.

The Pyramid blade is one key to defeating the witness - likely a lie (also the pyramid blade is specifically the enigma, she refers to the enigma as that in a few other memories) The witness seeks the final shape and the final shape is nothing - n/a The Last City is not the last city - truth The Witness will build its army on mars - No idea but could be true? Nothing to go against it and the sol divisive did recently try to take the spire

Truth/Lies Block 1 Summary: Might be usable information from sav, we’ll probably figure it out during lightfall.

Mercury, Io, and Titan are in savathuns care - could be a half truth? Savathuns involvement on Io during arrivals and Titan being a planet w/ her brood on it. Mercury could be bc she was disguised as osiris at that point? Not that osiris is incharge of mars but you get it. Also inline with some of her ‘truths’ abt being the one who brought mars back The Witness returned mars to your solar system - absolutely no idea. one of the statements that are directly countered by other memories. The power to move worlds will soon be yours - n/a The Taken King will rise again - eh? Weird take bc how subjective it is. Returned in the sense of the raid is here but thats noncanon (in a sense), oryx could feasibly get rez’d, iirc the current taken queen is xivu, and even if the witness took over it isnt a dude so neither of them can be the taken king. No idea when this message would be recorded but it couldve referred to Rhulk or maybe even Nokris? Or if it was later on it could be about The Lightblade? Since hes the last livingish (adopted) member of oryx’s lineage he could inherit it by default. Basically bc how broad this is itll likely end up being true but who knows Why

Truth/Lies Block 2 Summary: Savathun “vague called shot” Thewitchqueen back at it again. literally any of it could be true or false. If the witness pulls up tomorrow and just throws io at earth or something we’ll figure out whats up pretty quick

Osiris is dead - lie probably. This could’ve been recorded before sav’s plan fell apart so she assumed Osiris would be dead by the end of it. Also could turn out that he’s dead and just possessed by like nezerac or something who knows. Probably a lie though Savathun is dead - Truly no idea how to count this. The Savathun who recorded that message is dead. The Savathun currently alive is currently dead but can come back. She could have also made this before lost + assumed we would only hear all this if we killed her in a classic crota/oryx way The witness birthed the darkness - Probably a lie? But in a death of the author way since some of the promos have said the witness just wields the darkness In the end, your destiny lies beyond this system - n/a

Truth/Lies Block 3 Summary: entirely depends on when savathun recorded this. If it was before splicer who knows. If it was after splicer we know the first one is a lie

The Traveler will leave - this ones dumb. it went up then stopped. Could also be a called shot of her stealing the traveler plan working? The Traveler will fall - n/a-ish? Easily could happen The Traveler is not the only one of its kind - n/a The Hive are not the last to be chosen by the light - n/a

Truth/Lies Block 4 Summary: [sav voice] yeah uhhhh the traveler will do something or have something happen to it. probably. maybe not. this is my prediction

conclusion is we still know fuck all but might get to figure out a couple of em tomorrow

[two-red-lungs]

This might be a divisive (if that's a word) question, but I gotta know. Do you hc that the Lost Boys, like David, Marko, Paul, and Dwanye actually like womyn? Like sure they flirt with their meals to get them to let their guard down, but like outside of that.

I'm just think about how buckwild everyone went over Michael, and like their interactions with Star was more or less her being brushed off and treated like an accessory at best or a nuisance at worse. It's so stupid omfg but I feel like bad for wanting to sexualize them because of it? If that makes sense? Anyways I just wanted to see another dead head's musings over these cruelly gorgeous vampire. Like I guess this is an ask over how probably you'd see them as wanting to at the very least smash and dash, or even like fall in love with a womyn? Sorry for the word vomit and please don't answer if any of these questions squik u out!

This is actually a very nuanced and interesting set of questions! I have many opinions, as usual. Let's get into it shall we???

Lost Boys Opinions/Hot Takes

Lost Boys: Attraction to Women

Okay, to blanket-statement start off, yes. I personally believe that all the boys are, on some level, attracted to women, because honestly I have yet to encounter a vampire in any media that didn't have bisexual energy.

But I think it really varies for each of them. Like, David? Almost completely uninterested in women. Like a men-women 80-20 percentage. He prefers men. Marko would be on the other side of the spectrum: I'd put him at a men-women 30-70 percent. Kind of a sex gremblin. Paul's smack in the middle at 50-50. Dwayne is a mystery wrapped in an enigma and who knows what goes on in that gorgeous head.

They're just not very... romantic creatures. Romance is probably the furthest thing from their minds actually. I imagine the Lost Boys live in their own little reality, disconnected from the world and from humanity, and that reality is all about eating and drinking and fucking and fighting. No slowing down, no nights off. No time.

ESPECIALLY for falling in love.

The Boys & Star:

I absolutely think the way they treat Star/how her character is handled is a direct result of the director's world lense. The dude was gay. Do I blame him for making none of the boys interested in her, because of that? Absolutely the fuck NOT. However, she was completely sidelined and essentially used as straight prop/beard and she deserved better.

I think if the movie was made in 2022, we would have seen a Hannibal/Will romantic dynamic with Michael and David, with Star and Laddie playing roles as story-movers only, no romance attached. Star and Michael may have even had a better platonic friendship, allied by the fact that they both wanted to be human.

She also low-key seemed miserable and didn't like any of the boys, either, and I think she'd come alive and have way more personality around fellow women.

David & Michael:

Again, unfortunately, 80s movie. This was a very gay-coded relationship. You can tell the directors/story writers wanted them to angry kiss.

But. BUT. I don't think Michael is David's first 'fascinating boy'. I think the boys collect things: trinkets and sexual endeavors and posters and stuff. David collects (or tries to collect) people, especially people he finds sexually attractive. But by nature of his vampirism (he's fucking insane and murderous) basically nobody survives his 'tests'.

If it wasn't for the Emerson heritage of vampire hunting, I think Michael would have died, a year or two would pass, and David would find another pretty, fascinating, young boy toy.

Are the Lost Boys Sexy???

BITCH YEAH THEY ARE!!!! They are beautiful beautiful twenty-somethings with glorious hair, skintight pants, and the ability to fly. That's hot!!!! Own it!!!! It's fine!!!!

My rule of thumb is, 'would a horny man feel bad about this'? No. So I'm not going to feel bad about it either. Women are allowed to find things sexy.

For your last bit of question, I think the boys bed all sorts of folks of all genders. It usually ends in murder, however, so. There's that. But Paul has totally been to a hippie orgy, and David has absolutely been to a gay leather club. I am so so so certain.

This is sad, but I think if any of the boys fell in actual love, it would be quickly taken away from them. Because the boys survive through being insanely codependent on one another, and them drifting away to 'love' someone might be seen as a threat to be eliminated.

Like if Paul suddenly got deeply infatuated with a beautiful woman and started sending her love letters, or going on walks with her at night, if David heard about it, within the month something terrible and accidental would befall her. Because to him, Paul is his. Part of his family. And David likes to collect.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards pt. III

(Technoblade x Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII

     From that day on Tommy stayed with you and Technoblade in your collective house, Technoblade tried to establish some ground rules but Tommy being Tommy refused to listen to any of them. He was dead set on building a cobblestone tower as well as taking all of Technoblade’s golden apples instead of eating the golden carrots that were graciously given to him. Other than that, things seemed to be going okay for your little found family. Well, that was until Technoblade and Tommy got wind that a man named Dream was sniffing around the area. 

 Dream was an enigma to you, after hearing Tommy’s stories about the man you could only come up with two conclusions about him. One was that you had no idea what his motivations were in the first place and secondly you wanted to beat his ass for what he did to Tommy. As... unique as he could be at times no child deserved to be exiled and manipulated, it was disgusting. He was a sixteen-year-old boy who got caught up in too many wars and too much violence, you needed to protect him. So long as he was with you and Technoblade that’s what you planned on doing. That was what you silently vowed to yourself, even if Technoblade didn’t share the same sentiment. 

 Now, it seemed you were coming increasingly closer to voicing those feelings to the man himself. Tommy was shaking a little besides you he tried to look strong as Technoblade frantically told him to hide and splashed him with invisibility potions. He looked over at you next and grabbed your shoulders, he actually looked scared, which meant he wasn’t messing around. 

          “You need to hide too. God- there’s nowhere that he won’t check.” Technoblade mumbled, his brow creased, and he closed his eyes. “He CAN’T know about you! No one other than Tommy can, they’ll hurt you and-” Hesitantly you put your hands on his cheeks,  

         “Take a deep breath…” You said tenderly as he opened his eyes to lock with your own. “We’ll be okay, splash me with invis and I’ll stay by Edward, hopefully it’ll mask my particle effects.” He gave a worried nod; you pecked his lips tenderly to reassure him as he splashed you with the potion. Just in time too because a knock on the door sounded, for once Tommy was absolutely silent. You watched as a man who rivaled your boyfriend in size came through the door, your eyes widened at the white mask covering his face there was an almost haunting smile painted on it. You pressed your tongue against your teeth and watched him give a wave to your boyfriend. Even without seeing his face you could tell he was smirking coyly at him. Never one to be intimidated Technoblade gave him a casual greeting and their conversation about Tommy’s location began. You had to cover your mouth with your hands at one point to stop yourself from laughing as Techno began talking to ‘chat’ instead of talking to Dream. You watched as the masked man grew more and more angry at Technoblade’s antics, he began speaking about a favor and Techno reminded him that he believes in full reciprocity. At the end of the interaction, it took all of your strength not to punch Dream directly in his stupid masked face. Why the fuck did it sound like he wanted to murder a child? If Dream ever laid a finger on him again, he was personally going to feel your wrath. The potion wore off almost as soon as Dream disappeared over the hills, Techno immediately turned to Tommy anger written all over his face.

         “Where you eating my gapples that ENTIRE time?!” Tommy sputtered out an excuse about absorption and you watched Techno open the window and beckon Dream to come back. You gave Technoblade a look and he scoffed at you, 

          “I won’t let him hurt you again Tommy. I promise.” You swore looking down at him, and his face turned a little pink. Tommy cleared his throat and shook his head,

          “Thanks, Ms. Blade but I’m tough enough to fight him head on! Have no fear!” He pointed to himself with his thumb a proud smile adoring his face. You gave a little laugh and nodded in agreement, 

          “You definitely are. Thank you for reassuring me.” You hummed and his smile only seemed to widen, 

          “I’m more qualified to protect your girlfriend than you are it seems Technoblade.” 

 Technoblade looked unamused, his eyebrow twitching in distaste. “Tommy I literally hate you so much. You’re a nerd.” 

         “Play nice both of you.” You scolded them, “We have to work together and at least pretend to get along or it’s going to be a very long partnership.” They both nodded reluctantly, and Techno sighed tiredly, he ruffled your hair. The rest of the night was spent gathering some more food in hopes it would stop Tommy’s gapple eating tirade, it obviously wouldn’t but it didn’t hurt to try. After that all three of you turned in for the night, as both you and Technoblade were getting ready for bed he decided to speak up about the plan for the next day.

          “Tommy and I need to make a trek into L’manburg to find Phil and try to get my stuff back. I don’t want to leave you here alone considering what just happened today, but you also can’t come to L’manburg.” 

        “Bubs you know I’ll be fine here alone did we not just have this conversation?” You pinched his pointed ears, and he made a sound of protest. “I’ve got fighting skills, after all have you not been training me in the art of war?” You teased with a smirk, “I got this Blade.”

          “Okay, okay, okay.” He leaned forward and kissed you and you kissed him back without hesitation. You felt him squeeze your hand fondly before pulling away from you. “When we get back home, we’ll have a date night okay?” Technoblade whispered softly pressing his forehead to yours. 

          “Gonna be a bit hard with the raccoon boy snooping around.” You teased eyes sparkling in delight, 

         “I’ll send him on a quest for something or other. So, it’ll be just us, I swear.” The soft look on Technoblade’s face made your heart squeeze in your chest. He brushed your hair behind your ear, “I’ll make you dinner, and we can watch a movie.” 

          “Well don’t take too long then.” You sent a teasing wink his way and he smiled fondly back at you. You kissed him again pulling him down into the bed, you both bounced with a laugh. His pink hair hung down and framed his face gorgeously, his glasses slipped down his nose. You pushed them back up with your index finger and he went cross-eyed, “I’ll be looking forward to it.” 

 The next morning rolled around and after breakfast both boys reluctantly packed a bag with important things they needed for the day. Stepping outside with the two of them, Technoblade gave you a farewell kiss and you watched them disappear over the hills. They were most likely going to go cause problems for other people on purpose. Finally alone, you decided to check up on the nearby villages to see if they had any interesting trades that you and Techno could exploit. You slung a bag over your shoulder and placed a good portion of emeralds inside of it, you placed a few potions inside of the bag as well. As a precaution you also grabbed an axe and a sword, you had to be ready for anything after all. Shutting the door behind you, you started your trek through the snow-covered woods you heard the snow crunch under your boots and began to hum softly to yourself. You paused a moment and raised an eyebrow as you caught sight of a blue sheep wandering by, tilting your head to the side you approached it. 

        “Well, hey little guy.” You murmured reaching out and running your hand through the sheep’s soft wool. 

         “Oh, um excuse me!” A voice spoke from behind you, you jumped with a yelp as soon as you spun around you were met with a fully transparent man. He had a yellow sweater with a big gash in his torso, and a beanie resting atop his head. You tilted your head up and locked eyes with him, they were almost completely white.

 He was a ghost.

          “That’s Friend! She doesn’t really like others petting her but it’s okay because you didn’t know.” The ghost smiled; it was contagious as you felt yourself smiling back at him.

         “My bad, my names (Y/n). What’s yours?” 

         “Oh! I’m Ghostbur! It’s nice to meet you miss, I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new to the SMP?” He tilted his head floating around you, almost as if to get a better look at you. You focused more on his name, Ghostbur, which means this was Wilbur Soot, ex-president of L’manburg, and ‘brother’ of Tommy and Technoblade. 

 You cleared your throat and rubbed the back of your neck. “No, I’ve lived in this area for a while, but I’m a wandering adventurer. I trade with the villages around here for interesting collectables stuff like that. I don’t do much of that now though.” You watched the ghost’s eyes widen a little,

          “That’s so cool!” He praised, “I bet you have a ton of cool stories.” 

          “Yeah, there’s been a few close calls, but I’ve made it back alive and well- oh shit no offense.” You winced a little and he laughed shaking his head, 

          “No worries it’s okay! I’m fine with being dead you know, no one really liked who I was alive, so this is better for everybody.” He puffed out his chest a little and a big smile spread across his face, that only caused you to frown. You reached out to try and touch him and your hand went right through the man, you both seemed to shiver at that, and he looked at you in shock. 

      “I’m sorry to hear that...that must be really hard.” Wilbur’s jaw dropped at your response, he floated around a bit awkwardly. If he wasn’t floating, he would’ve been shuffling on his feet in a nervous manner. 

       “N-No it’s…Wilbur was a horrible, horrible man.” He took a deep breath and began to throw some sort of blue substance on the ground in a rapid manner, you watched as he began to mutter and breath heavily. 

        “Woah, woah, woah I’m sorry don’t freak out!” 

         “I’m not, I'm okay see, see I’m fine and happy. Very happy with everything that’s going on so no worries okay! Here.” He tossed the blue substance at you and you collected it with a weary smile, “Have some blue it’ll make you feel better.” You thanked him quietly and you both stood there a bit uncomfortably that was until thunder rumbled overhead. “Oh no…I melt in the rain.” 

         “Here why don’t you come with me.” You smiled softly, “I know a place where you can wait out the storm.” 

          “Aw thank you.” Ghostbur clapped, “Friend can come too right?” 

          “Of course.” 

          “Good. Then lead the way.” He chirped as Ghostbur followed you back the way you came, now before you get too mad at yourself you should know that Technoblade had informed you that during his ‘execution’ Ghostbur had visited him at his home. If he didn’t share that information with you, you’d be never revealing Technoblade’s base. As the house appeared over the mountains the ghost looked over at you with a bright smile, “Oh! That’s my friend Technoblade’s house, do you live with him?”

         “I do.” You smiled fondly and watched his smile grow excitedly, “He’s helped me out quite a lot.”

         “That’s wonderful! Technoblade usually never helps people unless he likes them or if they can do something for him in return. You must be very special, are you two together?” He only had to glance at you for a moment before laughing excitedly, “You are! That’s wonderful!” Ghostbur chirped, clapping his hands as he phased through Technoblade’s door, officially safe out of the rain, turned snow. You had let Friend inside as well and Ghostbur continued talking “Tell me how you met, please, please, please.” Seeing how excited the ghost was you melted, he won your heart just like Tommy. However, you had to keep in mind his alive self-did blow up an entire nation and that couldn’t be just brushed away like he seemingly was trying to do, you can’t erase the past. You can only accept what happens, learn from it, apologize and grow. However, you didn’t see the harm in sharing how the both of you met so you began to retell the tale to Ghostbur, the entire time he had an almost bittersweet look on his face. 

         “I was married once...her name was Sally. She...left though. But I still had my son, Fundy and we did the best we could together.” Ghostbur said fondly his eyes softening,

         “I’m sorry...that must’ve been really hard for the both of you.” 

         “It’s alright! She was a salmon, so she was going to swim away eventually.” 

         “Like- like an actual salmon?”

          “Yes?” 

The silence that stretched into the room was deafening, you cleared your throat deciding not to dwell on the fact that the ghost in front of you very likely fucked a fish. You hoped to god she was some sort of shapeshifter, in fact that’s what you were going to believe. You managed to break the silence by asking about Fundy, and the way he gushed about him was nothing less than fatherly. It was sweet and you listened intently to him, Fundy seemed like a good kid, a bit quirky but you were dating a blood god so who were you to judge? Eventually the snow outside stopped and the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. Ghostbur glanced out the window and decided it was time for him to head out with Friend. It was about midday and you were almost sad to see him go. 

 Alone again.

You still had hours to kill before Technoblade and Tommy reappeared, so you figured it was about time to start doing some chores. 

---

         “Ghostbur what’re you doing here?” Fundy murmured softly, looking over at the ghost with an exhausted expression. His ears were pressed back against his head, talking to the man who was once considered his dad always made him exhausted. Wilbur, or Ghostbur now, really was pitiful.

         “Can’t I visit you every once in a while!” Ghostbur hummed a smile plastered on his face as Fundy frowned. 

         “Preferably not. Plus...I’m a little busy right now I’m meeting up with Quackity and the Butcher Squad to talk about Techno again.” 

         “OH! Technoblade! I just spent the loveliest morning with his girlfriend, she was absolutely wonderful! She asked all about you and just adored Friend-”

         “Rewind, Technoblade’s what?” Fundy’s jaw dropped to the floor and he felt a hand on his shoulder, the young fox man stiffened. He looked to the side and saw Quackity besides him, Ranboo was next to him but Tubbo stood a little ways away. 

        “Yeah Ghostbur. Do continue.” Quackity grinned, his missing tooth sticking out from his last encounter with Toothpick. Ghostbur wilted a little bit and his eyebrows creased on his forehead, he fucked up didn’t he? 

        “I-um nothing actually I misspoke.”

        “Did he misspeak Fundy, cause to me it sounds like we have new leverage against Technoblade.” Quackity laughed a crazed look in his eyes, “Once again Ghostbur I have to thank you for the great information.” 

        “You’re welcome…” He murmured weakly, as Quackity stepped besides the ghost. 

        “Get your weapons boys, it’s time to pay the Technoblade household another visit.”

~~~

Hey guys! Pt. III is officially up! Technoblade’s livestreams huh? :) 

Also friendship with Tommy ended Ranboo’s my new favorite child.

As always I love your feedback thanks for reading! 

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

holy cow that sc old guard au is so good!! 😍 pls continue it if ever you'd be so inclined,,, I like the idea of lena finding family with the old guard and navigating her relationship with kara and the superfriends in canon 😊

Okay, then how about we think about the fact that when Lena and Kara finally exchange secrets, Kara is eloquent and apologetic and hopeful, giving a beautiful speech that ends with "I'm Supergirl."

And Lena's response is "I'm dead."

Cue season finale break.

But then we immediately pick back up with "Except I'm not. I mean, I'm alive by any measure known to science, I've checked. But that doesn't change the fact that the night before I moved to National City I woke up in a warehouse in Metropolis and spat two bullets out of my skull."

Kara just stares at her like whaaaaat is happening.

"And those people, the ones in the lobby the other day, I think they're like me, because I've been having dreams about them ever since it happened and I think they're old. Like older than time old and honestly I've been trying not to think about it because the idea of living that long terrifies me and--"

Lena cuts off when Kara wraps her in a hug, squeezing her tight. After her momentary shock, Lena relaxes, abandoning her train of thought in favor of melting into Kara's embrace.

"It's okay," Kara promises. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Lena gladly accepts the fact that she doesn't have to go through her journey of immortality alone. And it's not just the superfriends she has to lean on, but also her new family of fellow immortals who have gone through the exact same thing she has.

She doesn't have to go into hiding like Nile did. So far, no one but Corben knows her secret, so the risk of being identified and studied by the government is minimal. So the focus of everyone's work becomes keeping it that way.

Andy and the rest of the old guard set themselves up as Lena's new ace security team. Andy is the brains and occasional sniper, but stays out of the direct line of fire. Nicky and Joe are the public facing bodyguards who go with her everywhere, while Nile is the last line of defense, posing as Lena's assistant.

The two groups don't really mesh at first, despite the superfriends' curiosities. The old guard has been too long alone and too long with death to know what to do with the superfriends' youthful exuberance. But eventually their mutual attachment to Lena brings them into each others orbits.

Joe and Nicky adapt first. They come to love game nights, and Nia adores their blatant love for each other. Nile is the closest to them in age, but game nights and giggly girl parties isn't exactly her scene. She and Lena share plenty of scotch though, on the nights when they're alone in the office and have nothing to do but talk.

Andy remains an enigma. To her, the people around them are all children, and she can't truly connect with them the way she does with the old guard. The only member of the superfriends she can connect with is Supergirl. 

There's something about being the last of her world that makes Supergirl relatable, something about being earth's mightiest hero that creates the same invisible wall between her and her closest friends that Andy recognizes.

And Lena. Lena suddenly finds herself in a drastically changing landscape. Her apartment  fills first with bodies and go bags, as the old guard camps in her living room and spare bedroom. Then slowly Nicky's drawings find their way to the walls, and knick knacks come to rest on every available surface. Weapons fill every nook and cranny, a fact Lena grows more accustomed to as Nile starts training her.

She's familiar with guns and can hold her own in hand to hand combat under normal circumstances, but it doesn't flow through her muscles like it does with the old guard. Each of them but Andy teaches them their own specialty, relentlessly, until Lena feels her body change, her muscles coiled and ready to explode into motion using nothing but reflexive memory.

When Lena asks about training with Andy, the others laugh.

"Give it another century," Joe says, smiling warmly, "then ask."

But Lena picks up fighting as quickly as she does everything else. Sparring with Nicky and Joe is the most fun for Lena-- she surprises them with her skill in bladed weapons, courtesy of her near-olympic level proficiency in fencing. But even with them Lena can barely hold a candle at first. She's good, better than good, but Joe and Nicky don't fight to earn points. They fight to kill. They move with their whole bodies, with power and momentum behind every strike.

Lena does all she can to catch up. She loves a challenge, and this is a matter of keeping her life the way it is-- something she'll cling to until it's ripped out of her warm, undying fingers. She wants to keep L-Corp, she wants to keep game nights, and movie nights, and... she wants to keep Kara.

And Kara.... Kara supports Lena through it all, but the truth of Lena's new reality doesn't really sink in until one day she and the old guard don't move fast enough. They're lucky, in the sense there's no one else to see the bullet that rips through Lena's sternum and blasts out of her back, taking chunks of flesh and bone with it.

Kara's heart stops, barely hears the gasping wheeze as Andy puts a knife through the shooters windpipe. All she can see is Lena, unmistakably dead.

But then Lena blinks into a grimace, a curse rising to her pinkening lips.

"Fuck."

Then, "Ow. Motherfucker."

Nile pulls Lena to her feet, putting her gun back in Lena's palm. Lena deftly checks the chamber and nods the okay, and Nile moves on. Only then does Lena see Kara standing stock still, eyes wide and chest locked against a burgeoning panic attack.

"Hey," Lena says softly. She takes Kara's hand in hers, letting Kara feel the warmth of her skin, the pulse of her veins. She even pulls her blouse aside so Kara can see the flesh knitting itself back together. "I'm okay. See?"

There's a word for what Lena is, but Kara's pretty sure it isn't okay. Still, its enough to get Kara's legs to move again. With a nod, she bounces on the balls of her feet then launches into the air, speeding through the remaining gunmen and piling them aside unconscious for the police to deal with later.

"Still gotta get used to that," Andy mutters under her breath, coming to check on Lena. "You good?"

Lena nods again. "You were supposed to stay in the van."

"Fuck off with that garbage." Andy glares at her. "One of my team goes down, I'm going to make sure they get back up."

Lena smiles. It feels different, to be so readily accepted into the guard. Even with the Superfriends, she's had to work to earn their trust, and slowly eased her way into becoming one of the group. With Andy and her people, from the moment they saw each other there's never been any other thought. Lena was theirs, and they were hers.

"Let's get going."

[vannyvancan]

"mr assassin" Roommate!Shinsou Hitoshi X F!Reader Part 2

Part 2 of your Roommate/Assassin!Shinsou is here! First of all I wanna thank y'all for liking the first part so much! In this part we go deeper in darker theme of it, so just a fair warning.

my masterlist. Hope you have a great day and happy reading!

Tw for : Assassin!Shinsou theme, female reader,  gun usage, slight insecurity, NSFW for the most part on the later chapters, drug usage, corrupt government talk, harrasment

Day five of living with your new roommate. He hadn't shown much of an interest in harming you...

That was swell.

You huffed out a breath of relaxation when the realization hit, but not also that, things weren't as bad as you expected! The thought you'd get a nasty roommate who would leave much more bigger mess than you was on the mind... but he seems to be the one who cleans as well? A welcome surprise indeed.

Shinsou was an enigma, waking up early at five am, neatly sorting his clothing and coming back late at 11 pm, he didn't seem restless, which could only mean he probably has a second accommodation where he rests and eats as well. It also explains why he only had one bag with him which you had decency and never saw what was inside. Besides...

He had given you a glare yesterday when you stared at it for long with those white pupils of his.

Even though he was soft spoken, he always managed to find a way to poke fun at you before he left. Granted, you were quiet surprised when he made you a french toast every morning! He barely knows you, but you were grateful to have found a roommate that in one way or another showed his gratitude. Afterwards, you felt obligation to one up him and return the favour. Now dragging your dear friend out, you giggled at the phone text from Uraraka as she immediately started spewing jokes about your potential 'future' with him.

„What an idiot.“ You grinned to yourself, walking down the street to the meeting place, you were about to go shopping with her, you still had to supply yourself with comfortable winter clothing.

„Y/N!“ Uraraka's voice reached your ears.

„Hey! Long time no see!“

„Very long time indeed!“

Uraraka rushed her step to give you the biggest hug there was. She was the sweetest friend and was always there for you no matter the circumstances. Now both of you dragging yourselves in the clothing store

„You just got off from work right? How was it?“ She asked, looking at time, it was now 5 pm.

„Tiring, its even worse because they fired colleagues before summer so now all of us have extra hour of work.“

„Oh no. But at least you will be rewarded more no? More hours equal more pay.“

„Nope, it's the same job in the end, they just extended work time.“ Frowning at the work contract on the mind, it was a very high chance it will drastically change soon as well.

„It's very... bad.“ You nervously laughed as you walked together.

„One time they fired someone from storage, only to replace them with boss's relative. By law its forbidden, but they made up a name for the new position that does the same job in storage. So it seems valid, but its not.“

„Ah... it happened here as well, but uhm.“ Uraraka started

„Hmm?“

„There's been some disappearances from our parent company, we are having a bit of a rescheduling on our own as well.“ Uraraka nervously chuckled and scratched the back of her head, it was quiet obvious there's been some action going on on her end as well.

„But enough about that, how's Shinsou~?“ She teasingly leaned in and poked her pink cheek.

Your mind shifted to the now roommate, the intimidating figure had you stuttering for a second. Obviously, Uraraka shouldn't of hung out with Mina so often back in college days, because it was so obvious she wanted to pull out some flustering on your end as well. Her curiosity especially hit the peak since she heard your voice hit higher notes when talking about him.

„I-I.. U-um. Okay, fuck! I can't!“ Both of the palms now covered your face to hide the embarrassment.

„Ahah! Is he that hot? You didn't react like that for so long!“

„Shut up!“ You huff out „It's enough that he made a toast for me yesterday, now I don't know how to return the favor. I want to get close to him, but he's unapproachable.“

The brunette put a finger on her lower lip in deep thought.

„Maybe if he's so busy, you can make him little lunches in a box, since he's so busy.“

„Uraraka, that's so childish.“

„It's not! You have to show him your soft side! Poke around, maybe he likes it.“

„My soft side?“

Grimacing as she advised, you were afraid of getting your feelings hurt. Now hesitantly picking up shirts and pants from the shopping stand, you managed to pick decent clothing for the upcoming winter before the prices skyrocket, it was expensive already but you managed to find something cheap. Your eyes trailed to find a plain white scarf, it was really nice quality, and rather cheap, but the sudden thoughts redirected to Shinsou as fingers tried out the material.

Maybe its not a bad idea to try and open up, you'll try but there should be equal effort on his end as well. Now snatching the scarf from the stand, you both bought your things and left the store, suddenly being nudged on the shoulder by the pink cheeked individual, you let out a relieved laughter while walking home for today.

...

„No, no! Please, Spare me!“

„I'm afraid job's a job.“

„No, please! My wife-!“

-SNAP-

„... Operation successful, returning to the main area. Prepare for body disposal.“

„Roger that Mindjack.“

On the broad daylight, Shinsou had eliminated yet another target for today, this time it was a business man whose life spiraled down in gambling addiction, the man who had hired him said he owned too much and knew too much to be kept alive.

Drugs and gambling went hand in hand, it was no different that the client probably had some shady stuff going on on their end as well. Shinsou had to keep his eye open on this one as well.

„Dispatched him quickly?“ Shoto came by side to Shinsou while adjusting dark gloves on.

„Yeah.“

„Good. Let me help you up.“

Several moments later, a truck came by to pick the dead body up, Kirishima's disguise as a trash driver made both of them cringe for a moment, but quickly brushed it off as Shoto and Shinsou threw it away. The cleanup crew should get rid of their traces now, all he has to do is get away as fast as possible from here. Shoto and Shinsou entered in the truck and drove in silence.

„You blocked the spot quiet nicely Shoto! Made a nice clearing for Shinsou to execute.“ Kirishima praised

„I merely blocked the parking lot. I don't see it being worth a mention.“

„Man, but missions like these always for newbies rely on stalking and timing. And this was perfect.“

„Nothing is perfect in this line of business.“ Shinsou ripped off his gloves and cracked his own neck to relieve tension. „Karma will hit you back hard if you don't know what you are doing.“

„Yeah yeah, it isn't very manly if you're in it just for cash, I mean... I'm rooting for justice and y'all, don't go thinking I am blind to what you guys are doing.“

Shoto and Shinsou fell silent. It was hard to swallow the truth, the car ride to the safe house wasn't long, soon Kirishima hit the brakes and came to a stop to the small abandoned storage house on the outskirts of the city. Shoto jumped out to take care of the body while Shinsou assisted with it, after they were done, Kirishima checked the contract for the job well done and handed the payment. A block of dollar bills now in their hands, the digital transfer of money would raise eyebrows in eyes of banks, so the money transfer was best if it was physical.

„Here you go boys! Boss says that the next contract is gonna be handed out tomorrow, you are free for the rest of the evening.“

„Tomorrow already?“ Shinsou asks.

„Yeah, what did you mean with that question?“

„I was thinking of looking into the client of the previous contract. Do some research and possibly eliminating him.“

Kirishima clicked with his tongue while Shoto huffed out and fiddled with the block of money in his hands.

„Sorry man. Solo contracts wont get you money, and gateways like us wont help you since we put too much at stake. You are on your own if you are gonna kill someone who is off the list.“ Kirishima explained

„Why would you even do it?“ Shoto asked, „Its not like the guy did you anything bad.“

Before Shinsou could answer Kirishima pat his back two times before turning on his heel to store his equipment away and head home himself for today.

„Mindjack has always been like that, even before you started working with. He sorta goes off on his own at times, seeking who needs killin' and who doesn't. That's why we hired you Shoto.“

„Can't blame me for doing what I think its right.“ Shinsou lowered his head, „All I need is time, That's why I was taken aback when a new contract was announced for tomorrow.“

„Alright alright, Mr. Assassin. You'll get your time. Someday. For now, this handsome manly man is going to go home for tonight! I'm going to get myself some hot bath.“

„See you Red. I'll be going too, Goodnight Mindjack.“

The departure was short, Shinsou took his bag and changed clothes before heading back, the bad smell could of easily rub off on him and he didn't want you to start speculating things. Even though he mostly ends his victim's lives in a way where no blood can be shed, it was a close call when she started eyeing the bag yesterday. He hated it, but he had already planned out way's to kill the roommate he was living with for any situation if she found out his true work.

'I don't need any of you to help me in my solo hunt.' He thought to himself, putting his black leather jacket on and helmet, he checked out his surroundings before revving up his bike and driving away.

The evening was busy as people were going back from work, it was 6 pm after all and he was stressing out on the fact that he will have to see his roommate. Maybe he could take a spin? Or start investigating on his own, but he didn't have time, he needed it. Rumbling of the bike eased tension he had from the committed crime, but only barely. As he came to a red light he slowed down and realized he was shaking badly, he knew it was not only from the setting sun and chilling air slowly creeping in, but also of stress. The realization that he might get caught always hit him harder after it settled in his mind. He inhaled deeply and eyed the nearby passengers. His eyes land on a woman in distance he never thought he would run into.

It was you, and you have been on your way to the flat with things you've gotten. The fact you saved up on the flat made you relax and indulge in the little shopping spree with Uraraka and groceries. You smiled from ear to ear nevertheless the tiredness creeping on you from the day.

„Mm...“ You sighed and rolled your shoulders.

„Maybe I'll make the thing she told me.“

You honestly looked like a happy child after realizing now that you have a roommate who pays for half of the expenses, you have extra cash to buy for things and make food at home. It wasn't a big deal to go out and buy something since it was cheap to buy a box of instant meal, but you wanted to cook your own food for a long time now. As you looked in the grocery bag and already beginning to think of the recipe you'd think for it, you suddenly bumped onto a stranger who didn't quiet follow his surroundings either. The harsh impact almost made you fall behind flat on your backside, but you managed to find balance. 'How rude-!' you thought.

„Ah-! S-sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you sir-„

„Watch where you are stepping wench-! I swear, women like you need to fucking know their place and stay at home.“

Excuse me?

Since when did this idiot have any right to find you to get his frustrations out?

You frowned at his sentence, knowing better not to engage with a random incel on the streets at evening hours, whose breath reeked of beer and bad hygiene, you decided to clutch your bags and pass by him hurriedly.

„Don't fucking ignore me!“

„Hey! Let me go!“

The man captures your wrist harshly and doesn't let go, now pulling you towards himself, he makes your belongings and your body stumble forward. His other hand wrap around your waist and starts dragging you along with him. Trying to shake yourself away only resulted in him recapturing you. He started laughing and you only now realize he quiet probably meant to bump into you.

He was trying to kidnap you-

„I said you are a bitch! Now you'll know your place-!“

„Let me go!“

Closing your eyes, the strong grip bruised your wrist and you yelped in pain, Your eyes veiled with tears as his disgusting sweaty hands found their way on your thighs to try and attempt to carry you, but the hold that was on you was suddenly broken free and a strong impact of a punch made the man fall flat on the ground. You were quiet sure you heard something broke as well.

„Agh! Son of a-!“

The adrenaline spiked in your veins and you immediately snapped out of it to see what was going on. Another hand rested on you almost protectively, you raised head to see a dark dressed figure that was very familiar. You were quiet shocked to find Shinsou held you close to his chest, wasn't he supposed to work until very late? You hear his quickened heartbeat and deep breathing as he gazed into the eyes of an attacker. Clutching onto him, you immediately felt more sorry for the drunken individual that had attacked you. Hooded eyes with dark eye bags were visible with blood rush, he stared down at his victim like a prey.

„I honestly can't believe how uncool you are, attacking a woman.“ He tilted his head on the side „Piss off before I do anything worse.“

The drunkard scrambled to his feet, he held onto his nose, groaning in pain inflicted by just his one punch.

„You fucker-! You broke my fucking nose!“

He charged again at Shinsou and you. This time, Shinsou quickly dispatched him by a high kick in his stomach, stealing all the air from his lungs. He hunched over and fell flat face forward, deeming him now unconscious. Your mouth went agape at his form, even though there were no visible passerby's, the drivers could certainly call police and at any moment and both of you would get caught.

„Shinsou!“ You panicked, finally reacting at the scene.

„Come on, lets get the hell out from here. He's bad news.“ He pat your shoulders and helped you scramble the bags that were on the ground.

He led you to climb on his bike that you were quiet hesitant to get on at first, he didn't let you get acquainted as the time was limited and you let out a noise of protest at first.

„We have no time, grab onto me.“ He revved up his bike and it rumbled.

„You just gonna escape like that!?“ You asked „What gives he's not gonna blame it on us? The police-“

„Police is not going to do shit.“ He glared at you „Unless you want to call them right now and deal with this sort of mess on Thursday evening, be my guest.“

You whined again, thinking thoroughly on his words you knew he was right so you followed his orders. If anything Shinsou was a witness if both of you ever end up getting caught. Holding onto the bags in your hand, you decided it was a better option to leave. Now climbing on you adjusted yourself in back of seat, the view in front of you were of his back, now starting to get illuminated by the street lights. He smelled nice, despite it being closed off by the leather jacket, his vibrant purple hair was flattened by the helmet, and you couldn't shake off the thought that you were about to hold him. You let your left hand slip around his stomach while your right one grips his shoulder.

Fuck, he was solid.

The gas made you back up a bit and grip on him tighter as he violently sped forwards to escape the scene. You hid your face in his back and held onto dear life. You weren't acquainted with bike's, most of your life was spent driving in cars and public transport, but you were quiet thankful to have him tell you when to lean on sides as you took turns.

„Just like riding a bicycle“ He claimed.

You relaxed after he talked more about it, there was something about him being calm in this situation made you very thankful. If he hadn't shown up...

Well, you wouldn't like to think about it.

He slowed down and stopped as the lights turned orange, then red, he took this opportunity to check on you. Shinsou leaned back and turned to you.

„You okay?“

„Y-yeah, still a bit shaken up about it. I... think I'll be fine. What about you?“

„I'm good.“ He replied shortly, his curt expression not giving anything else away.

In his mind, there wasn't anything he could do to help, the thought of comforting a victim was very alien to him. He could manage dispatching the person quickly, but he would rather much leave a therapy session to others. There was something about how he emotionally closed off himself that helped him do what he was working for, but it was never in favor when someone needed emotional support, like you right now.

His thought process was interrupted by a white scarf now gently falling around his neck.

„Your facial expression doesn't quiet match your body language Mr. Shinsou. Here, have this, your body is shaking.“

„What is this?“ He asked, tenderly reaching for the soft white fabric and letting the warmth of it settle around his neck.

„Its a scarf... I was planning on giving it to you. You are a good roommate to me.“

His eyes lit up at the realization, his knee was thumping up and down in nervousness from what he had been overthinking about, whats wrong with this woman? Is she going to be the one giving him the therapy session? He better not go soft now. The light turned green and you took a last turn to your place and he parked nearby. Both of you got off and he helped you by giving you a hand and with the bags.

„You didn't have to.“

„That's not true, I had to! I know work's probably putting a lot of strain on you just like mine is, and I know you mean only well, hell, you've been cooking an extra toast just for me.. and now you saved me.“

Both of you came to a stop as you entered the building. You sighed a little bit as words of gratitude escaped you

„And I just want to say.. Thank you."

Wide eyed like a kitten, he seemed so innocent if he didn't act so suspicions all the time. But this time you were so happy on seeing your roommate warming up to you. He was speechless for a solid second, he raised the scarf just a little bit to hide his mouth and nose.

Was he blushing?

"You really think that huh?" He asks, it was a simple question, but it got you stuttering madly and you looked onward, taking big steps as suddenly your flat was the lifeline of a place to be in right now. Shinsou himself didn't want to admit it but looking at you being cheerful after the events set his mind at ease.

"O-of course! A-and don't think that that you are ever a bad person, whoever is telling you bad things at work... They are wrong, because you are actually a really nice person... I think." You said without looking back.

„Now you are just sprouting nonsense.“ He chuckled and followed closely behind.

„Come on! I'm gonna cook us dinner. We are gonna feast.“

[the--sad--hatter]

Sparks Fly - Chapter 13 (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel Soulmate!AU/Detective!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Gratuitous Violence, Criminal Activity, Life or Death Situations, Graphic Gore, Crime Scene Descriptions, Dark Humour, Slapstick Humour, Kara Humour, Catastrophic Amounts of Fluff, More Angst Than You Can Shake A Stick At

Summary: (Imagine Brooklyn 99 and Criminal Minds had a baby)

If you want to know if you’ve found your soulmate, it’s simple… All you have to do is kiss them. If they’re your soulmate then there will be sparks, literal sparks. You’ve seen it happen to other people and it is a sight to behold; at least you think it is. Detective Bucky Barnes is a little less enchanted with the idea.

Despite your glaring differences, you and Bucky work well together. You’re good at charming witnesses, he’s good at intimidating suspects. You can run a perp down, he can knock them down. But there’s one criminal who’s eluded you both for a long time, and when Brock Rumlow rolls back into town, you and Bucky find yourselves far outside your comfort zones.

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Chapter Thirteen - The Braidy Bunch 

You were afflicted with a severe case of cop-brain. It happened occasionally, you’d get so caught up in a case that you didn’t have room in your head for anything else. It usually happened on cases that were difficult to solve, enigma’s wrapped in mysteries, wrapped in a lack of evidence and a hard to decipher motive.

 This case had plenty of evidence. Two faceless corpses, a warning from a dead assassin, a murdered colleague, and a sinister bouquet of flowers.

 Motive was also clear. Rumlow was a psychopath and he was fixated on you.

 But where Rumlow was, what he would do next, and why he wanted you so afraid? Those were question you desperately needed answers to, and you had no way of knowing where to look.

 Your apartment held no clues. If it weren’t for the corpse and the roses left behind, you’d never even have known someone had been there. That thought had sent chills through you, and your grip on Bucky’s hand had tightened for a moment, but then you pulled yourself back from the edge and thrown yourself in crime-solving mode. It was the only way to get through this, to survive this. You had pulled your hand from Bucky’s and put on a profession air that kept the darkness at bay.

You weren’t the lead detective on the case, but assigning tasks authoritatively, you sure as hell acted like you were. Nobody fought you on it, they just nodded and took their marching orders seriously.

 Natasha was working her own case, with the new knowledge from you and Bucky. She was pressing on every contact she had in various other law enforcement agencies and scrolling through endless Interpol lists to identify the two faceless victims who had kickstarted the nightmare.

 Wanda and Pietro were combing through weeks of backdated security footage from the Chinese restaurant next door, to see if there had been any suspicious activity around your apartment before last night.

 Clint and Sam downtown at a well known bar for gang members, grilling his informants for information about Hydra resurfacing.

 Steve was fending off Major Crimes, and The FBI. Hydra were a known terrorist organization, which made this case a free for all, and he was working his ass of to keep it getting taken from you.

 And Bucky was glued to your side, just like he said he would be. He was taking his vow seriously, and you hadn’t left his sight for more than a few minutes, and that had been when you went to the bathroom. Even when you got back to the Precinct, he had taken up residence in an empty briefing room with you, helping you set up the whiteboards with all the evidence and passing you coloured pins as you asked for them.

 Everyone was doing everything the could, but to no avail. By the time darkness had fallen over the streets of New York, you were no closer to solving the case than you had been when the day began. You just couldn’t accept that though, you were convinced there had to be something you missed, and when Bucky had dragged you out of the station to take you home, you had managed to snag a file and smuggle it back to his apartment by hiding it under your shirt.

 “I fucking knew you were still working.” He sighed.

 You looked up from your cross-legged position on the bed, not even mildly guilty at having been caught. He was glaring at the file in your lap like he could set it ablaze if concentrated hard enough.

 “M’not tired. Listen, I was thinking about the flowers. They’re in the lab so we should know more tomorrow, we should go to the florist and see if they remember anything about who ordered them.” You said.

 There had been no card with them, because Rumlow hadn’t needed one. The flowers themselves were the message. He was telling you it was him, letting you know he was still alive, making sure you knew he was coming for you. He was lurking somewhere in the shadows, trying to get inside your head, under your skin.

 But everyone had thought he was dead. He’d been free and clear, and he’s blown it because he needed to hurt you. He might have thought he was winning, but he’d given you the upper hand, because he’d proven that you were the one who was under his skin. He’d fucked up, and that was how you were going to catch him, you were going to use his obsession against him.

 You just weren’t sure how, but you knew you could figure it out.

 You were startled out of your reverie by a pillow landing in your lap, and it surprised you enough for Bucky to pluck the evidence file out of your hand.

 “What?”

 He tossed it onto the corner of the room, and switched the light off so the only sliver of light came from the hallway. Oh, so he was sending you to bed.

 “I’m not sleepy yet, what the hell?” You snarled, attempting to get up and retrieve the file.

 “You’re not sleepy because you’re not calm.” He said, shoving you back down onto the bed. “You need to stop thinking.”

 That was rich, because by the expression on his face, he was thinking very deeply about something. While you were flattened against the headboard and glaring up at him, he re-adjusted the pillow on your lap and with a long, deep breath, climbed onto the bed and lay his head down on it.

 “What the fuuuuck is happening?” You whispered quietly, too afraid to speak loudly or move.

 It was like some sort of wild animal had climbed onto your lap in a sudden and unforeseen show of domesticity.

 “Mindless tasks keep your mind from wandering, and the happier you are, the easier you’ll sleep.” He grunted.

 That explained absolutely nothing, until… He swept his hair out from under his neck until it was all fanned out across the pillow.

 “Oh my God. Oh. My. God! Ohhhh myyyyy God.” You exclaimed in a hushed and awed whisper. “Are you? Is this? Can I?”

 “You know what it is.” He snapped.

 “I need to hear you say it, Bucket.”

 He scowled angrily at you, which didn’t quite have the effect he was hoping for since he was doing it upside-down from your lap. It was adorable.

 “You can braid my hair.” He eventually grumbled, not at all happy about it.

 You were thrilled though. The words were music to your ears and you clapped your hands together excitedly before you wiggled your fingers in anticipation. You hadn’t actually thought he would ever, in a million years, actually let you loose on his luscious locks. The first brush of your fingers against the brunette strands felt like victory, and you knew it was a memory you would treasure forever.

 You gently pulled your fingers through his hair, working out all the little kinks and knots, careful not to tug too hard. You didn’t want to spook him. He just lay there though, and after a few moments his eyes fluttered closed and all the little line on his face smoothed out as his expression melted into one of relaxation. He was enjoying this!

 You painstakingly parted his hair into even sections, and pretended you couldn’t hear the way his breathing evened out, but when you gently raked your nails across his scalp to section a parting, you couldn’t pretend you hadn’t heard that. It was quiet, but unmistakable, the soft grunt of pleasure that rumbled from his slightly parted lips. As soon as it happened, he froze, unnaturally still.

 So you did it again.

 As your nails softly dragged across his scalp, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and his hands balled into fists at his sides. The back of your neck suddenly felt too warm and your heart did a strange sort of pitter-pat in your chest. All those confusing feelings that were swirling around inside your chest were not any easier to deal with when the object of your affections was in your lap, and all those less confusing feelings south of your chest were not helped by the noises he was making.

 You still did it again though.

 The involuntary reactions it brought forth, the fact he hadn’t asked or hinted at you to stop, and the endearing blush that tinged his cheeks were all too hard to resist.

 It worked though, his plan. Your mind was purged of all Rumlow and case related thoughts, and even the confusing emotional bullshit slipped further away with every lock of hair you twisted. You just lost yourself in the intricate braiding, letting the repetitive actions take up your headspace. By the time you were finished, you were finally calm, blissfully thought free, and relaxed. So was he, if the peaceful expression on his face was anything to go by.

 “Bucket?” You hummed softly, tapping him on the shoulder.

 Nothing.

 “Bucky?”

 Oh damn. He was fast asleep.

 “Well, fuck.” You whispered to yourself.

A/N -  This chapter is shit, i know it's shit, but it was a shitty chapter or no chapter at all 😫

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@drdorkus​ @mad4oak​ @anamcg317​ @whoisbxcky​ @pinkisokay​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @dlcita @bonkybaaarnes​ @marvelsangels​ @lordofthenerds97​ @crushedbyhyperbole​ @prettyboydevito​ @cleoisme​ @supraveng​ @lbuck121​ @daughterofthenight117​ @pinknerdpanda​ @courtneychicken​ @jocundasykes @iluvsumbucky​ @pychedelic-rainbow @ahappylilybug2019​ @silentcoyotesong​ @slytherinyodmslike​ @geeksareunique​ @aikeia​ @nighttwingg​ @ladysergeantbarnes​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @exotic-moondvst​ @buckyreaderrecs​

Everything Taglist (Closed)

@helloimanavenger​ @justahumblesinner @littleredstarfish​ @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @dilaila95​ @buckysknifecollection​ @justellu​ @spnrvt​ @deathofmissjackson​ @sexyvixen7​ @fairislesheets​ @rvgrsbrns​ @dahkness​ @sleepycayley @isabelcrichards​ @riverdaleserpent04​ @jazztherebel​ @tell-me-a-poem​ @hiddles-rose​ @severepienerdturkey​ @life-wanderer​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @fangirlwithatrowel​ @abo4280ooof​ @destiel-artemis​ @dilaila95​ @tarastudiesalot​ @toxic-pineapple​ @ohnosiren​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @breezy1415​ @misswatson99 @chaoticfiretaconerd​ @marvelfansworld​ @stareyedplanet​ @themusingsofmany​ @zeannastardust​ @littleredstarfish​ @sammyissassy​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @kaz22992​ @randomidiot4444​ @musingpredilection​ @inquisitor-selvala​ @lianadelphius​ @happybookmuffin​ @tony-stank3​ @amoonagedaydreamer​ @dropthepizza346​ @my-drowning-in-time​ @lianadelphius​ @musingpredilection​ @belles-garden​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @unfriendlyrightfighter​ @rororo06​ @lookalivefrosty​ @official-and-unstable-satan​  

Sparks Fly Taglist (Closed)

@stareyedplanet @freeyourwings @marvelgirl7 @sarcastic-britt @intense-sneezing @eesha266 @buckyyyybear @jordan1509 @draqcnheartstrinq @jennmurawski13​ @whatcouldgowrong-ohthat​ @literalmcuhoe​ @siggy85​ @lordofthenerds97​ @noplacelikehome77​ @lokisironthrone​ @bwady-owo​ @humbledarkness​ @crookedslimecreatorpasta​ @1am9root6​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @tanelle83​ @thefifthmaraud3r​ @quixotic-romantic @vvienersoldier​ @scarletnerd05​ @emzd34​ @fandomsfallnomore​ @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​ @cateyes315​

[bobathirstaccount]

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut (tomfoolery starts end of ch 2 & sex starts in ch 3, I gotchu), some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

TW: unprotected sex, violence (someone gets beat up semi-graphically.. nothing too bad)

Translations (Mando’a)

Hu’tuun - coward (deep insult)

Cyar’ika - sweetheart/ darling

Mesh’la - beautiful

****

CHAPTER SIX

“Finally, she’s awake,” you heard a male voice say.

“Okay, let’s do this,” another one replied.

You looked up, bleary eyed. The back of your head ached.

“Where is he, girl?”

You stared at them.

“Fett, Boba Fett,” the man clarified. You started to laugh. This angered the men and one of them backhanded you, splitting your lip open. For good measure, he also gave you a black eye. “Now let’s try this again. Where’s Fett?”

You laughed again, spitting blood at their feet. “He’s gonna kill you.”

The man who’d beat you grabbed you by the hair and lifted your head up painfully, “Bitch we are the ones in this room with you right now, not him.” He backed off a bit, “Plus he’s just your fucking employer. Give it up.”

You remained silent. It earned you another punch to the face and a kick to the gut. You groaned but didn’t speak.

The men were getting impatient. One of them grabbed a pair of tweezers. “Guess where these are gonna go?” He asked with a nasty expression. You just stared at him, blood dripping down your swollen face. “This is on you, girlie. It’s a shame, you’re a cutie. You won’t be after this.” A flash bang went off, stunning all three of you.

When you recovered you were in a prone position, your bonds cut. You became aware of voices. “... now is there anything else you need to tell me?” That was Boba.
“No, no please! That’s all I know. He just hired us to attack Slave 1 and kill you!”

“But yet you were torturing a woman instead. Hu’tuun,” he seethed. Boba slapped him across the face with his armored wrist. The man spit a tooth out and continued to plead. You looked for the other one and found him slumped against the wall. He seemed dead. You directed your attention to your shoulder, which was starting to throb. You gingerly touched it, which made you whimper.


Boba heard you and turned around, still furious. He walked over to you and knelt, “How are you?”

“Shot.”

He tilted his helmet slightly, “Among other things.” He smoothed your hair back from your face, studying you.

“Please, pl.. pl... -“ Boba shot him without turning his head.

“Let’s go home, cyar’ika.” You nodded and tried to stand. You couldn’t. Boba lifted you to your feet. “Can you walk?” You nodded. You walked outside, leaning against Boba, to see the Slave 1 not far away. You breathed a sigh of relief.

***

Once back onboard, Boba put the ship into jump space. He turned to you immediately, “I’ll get the med pack.” He proceeded to patch you up, using a level of gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. Once you were bandaged up, he sat back. “I should not have put you in danger like that, using my ship without myself present.”

You shook your head, “Part of the job.” He looked at you for a moment, “It will not happen again. If they knew who you were, who knows what could have happened.” He placed a strong hand on your knee. You looked quizzically at him, “Who am I?”

“Someone who is... important to me.” He straightened.

The pain killer was kicking in, “Ayy calls us fuck buddies.”

He laughed. “I should have had this descriptor when Fennec asked me.” You were stunned, “What?”

“She asked in so many words.” You swallowed thickly. “Are you embarrassed?” His helmet tilted.

“No! I just,” you stumbled over your words, “I just don’t know what it says about me.”

He tilted his head the other way, confused.

“I worked hard to get where I am. Now it looks like favoritism.”

He shook his head, “Fennec doesn’t feel that way, and aside from myself she’s really the only person that matters.”

You thought about all the other mercs, gossiping, judging. You shrugged. They were already doing it anyway. The male mercs were unforgiving to any female that tried to weasel their way into prominence in this quadrant. “I guess.”

“What does that mean?” He sounded gruff.

You grabbed the hand that was on your knee and squeezed. “Nothing. I want to be around you and I don’t care who knows.”

He nodded.

***

Ayy and the other dancers babied you, ferrying food and other goods from the palace to your ship. You had elected to recover in Daesha. It felt the safest there. Boba came to visit you nearly every day, frequently running into the dancers. They said nothing, but started giving you heavy knowing looks. It annoyed you.

Finally you were well enough to appear at court. You reappeared on Boba’s left side, an elevated position. No one said anything, but there were looks in your direction from the other mercs. You held your head high. Some people even started to try to curry favor with you. You felt an inkling of power forming. It was strange. You mentioned it to Boba as you laid in bed one night.

“Of course. You can do something for them.”

You walked your fingers across his bare chest, “I don’t like it.”

“That’s a good sign.”

You sighed, “Well I still don’t like it.” He pulled you close. “Get used to it.” He rubbed your hip with his rough hand. “You will get the hang of it. Wielding power is surprisingly easy.” It felt surreal to be told such a thing by Boba Fett.

You were beginning to distinguish two modes: the Great Fett and Boba. Boba was hard to come by, but could be wonderfully soft. Fett wasn’t bad either, but was harder to read and more mischievous. Tonight he was Boba, and so you felt emboldened.

“Boba, what do you want for us?” You asked brazenly.

“Mmm, more of the same. Why? Are you still happy with our arrangement?”

“Yes... I just... like you.”

He snorted. “The list of people who can say that is very short.” You sighed. You had tried to express yourself but done a terrible job. It was probably for the best. Quiet settled over the two of you.

“I am... fond of you.”

You had almost fallen asleep, but your eyelids shot up at this. You wrapped an arm around his torso. “Really?”

”Don’t get emotional.”

You snorted, but bit back some tears.

“I am not your boyfriend.”

You laughed at the thought of someone calling him that. “Of course not. Boba Fett someone’s boyfriend? It just sounds wrong.” He turned his head to rest his chin on the crown of your head. “You are an enigma.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. He shifted his weight then, and seemed to settle down into sleep. You closed your eyes.

When you woke you were alone. Of course. You stretched and yawned, rolling over. Fett’s armor was still on the side table where he left it for night time. You sat up, looking around the room. It was empty. You tried to figure out what this could mean. He walked out of your fresher with a towel around his waist. He saw you sitting up, “Showered.”

You nodded. He dropped the towel and got into bed. “Come here, mesh’la.” You snuggled into him, enjoying the closeness. His hand ran down your spine, to the small of your back, giving you shivers. You looked up at him adoringly. He stared down at you with a soft, but unreadable expression. Suddenly he cupped your cheek in a large hand and drew you into a chaste kiss. It was shocking but welcome. You kissed back until he pulled away, dark eyes watching you.

You ran your hand over the scar that crossed his face. He sighed gently. You tested and kissed him again. He allowed it but didn’t let you deepen it. When you pulled away, he smiled softly, the sharpness in his eyes diminishing further. He ran a hand down your side, stopping to cup your curves until he reached your ass. You felt yourself growing wet and needy. He grabbed your ass and rolled over, pulling you on top of him. You sat up, straddling him above his hips. You scooted down, pushing down on his chest to do so. His skin was warm and uneven. You thought about him in the Sarlacc, being eaten alive. You pushed the thought away.

You arrived over his cock. You rubbed your already wet pussy against him, feeling him harden beneath you. When he was hard, you directed him into yourself and started to grind, feeling his cock move in your pussy. He watched you as you moved, bringing a hand to cup one of your breasts. You started to slowly bounce up and down on his shaft. He squeezed your tit, making you sigh dreamily. You became urgent, your need to cum becoming overpowering. You felt the overwhelming sensation growing in your pussy.

The feeling of his cock stretching you was almost too much. He grabbed both of your hips and started to fuck up into you, sharp powerful strokes. You hand went to your clit, rubbing frantic circles. You closed your eyes and your mouth fell open slightly. Boba grinned, enjoying the show. You came hard, breathing his name over and over as your pussy fluttered around him. He flipped you over before you could recover and started to fuck you in short strokes. You spread your legs for him, moaning from your orgasm. He slowed down slightly to your confusion. It still felt good, but it was very different sex than you normally had with him. He continued to fuck you almost gently, his head buried in your shoulder. “Baby, you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask.

”Yes cyar’ika,” he replied huskily. You rubbed his uneven back with your hands. “Why do you call me that?” You had never asked but often wondered.

“Because you are,” he said into your neck.

“I’m... sweetheart?”

There was a pause in the conversation as he fucked you. “Yes.”

You quieted your mind then and decided to stop asking questions. Instead you said, “Cum in my pussy, baby.” He picked up the pace slightly, keeping his face buried. You wrapped yourself around him, purring. His thrusts became erratic and you could feel him panting into your neck. You decided to try to outdo yourself, “Mmm, cyar’ika you feel so good.” He came then, stiffening and groaning into your hair. He stayed like that for a moment, then rolled off you. You turned on your side and nuzzled into him again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called cyar’ika before.” You smiled. Then you remembered something. “Boba, those ...Mandalorians... why do you have their armor if you aren’t also Mandalorian?”

“The armor... was my father’s.” His tone let you know you were treading on thin ice.

“Was he Mandalorian?” You pressed forward, pushing the edges of your boundary.

“It’s complicated, ad’ika.”

You waited for him to translate. “Hey, you promised to translate new words.”

“Little one.” You looked up at him at this.

He sighed. “I should get up.” He didn’t move.

“Not yet. Stay for awhile with me.”

“Why?”

“Because this is nice.”

He laid with you awhile longer before getting up.

[shyneanon]

And the fic I started about a week ago with a MF one-shot continues! It’s now called The Boss’s Daughter and it’s up on AO3. 

I’ll continue to post it here but you can go to AO3 to subscribe or kudos or comment or whatever you’d like. It also just might be easier for people to read the whole thing there, since these chapters are long and the whole work will be in one place. Anyway, enjoy!

---

Your father was an unforgiving man.

As kind as he was to you and your mother, when he went to work, he became a different person. He did not tolerate failure, he did not tolerate deceit, and he did not tolerate disrespect. It was no wonder that he had become one of the richest and most powerful mob bosses in the city. People feared him.

And thus, they feared you.

He called you Princess for a reason. You were very much his princess. And there was no mobster in the city who didn’t know the consequences of making a wrong move around you. If he saw a man as a threat against his daughter-- whether physically, emotionally, or otherwise-- that man was as good as dead. And your father’s definition of a threat was a bit loose. He was a very jealous man. Every gangster knew that.

Well, Sans hadn’t, until Papyrus had gone on a tirade about it at him.

Truth be told, it hadn’t really scared Sans much at all. It was difficult to scare him-- though whether that was because he was tough or stupid, he wasn’t sure. Though it did make him view your encounter through a new lens. When he’d spoken with you, he’d had no idea you were such… forbidden fruit.

Unfortunately for Papyrus, whose… suggestion… was reasonable, telling Sans that you were a literal danger to him had only made you more desirable to him. It was that thrill that causes even the best of people to date partners who are bad for them: The feeling of playing with fire, of doing something despite knowing it was bad for you. You were so pretty, and you had been so much fun, but if he’d known all of this before, the spark of electricity he’d felt at being close to you would’ve felt like a thousand-volt shock. To think that he had held someone virtually unattainable-- had gone so far as to kiss your neck and the corner of your lips-- and come out of it alive?

Hell, now he just wanted to do it again.

Since he had nothing better to do with his time (well, he did, he just liked not doing what he was supposed to be doing), he’d eventually asked some of his men how much anyone even knew about you, if you were so heavily protected. Surprisingly, quite a bit, because your father liked to talk about you a lot. According to him, you were very intelligent. That didn’t surprise Sans at all, it had been pretty obvious. Well, sort of. It had been this look behind your eyes. Like you were always observing things, assessing them. No doubt you were unused to being hit on and yet you had remained cool and collected.

Heh. Maybe you’d make for a good mob boss yourself.

Your father even claimed that you helped with the business sometimes. The record-keeping and number-crunching, anyway. He didn’t like telling you exactly what your beloved daddy was doing during business hours.

It was funny how many small details had stuck with Sans’ men (and probably many others). You were just such an enigma that any information your father threw out was like a piece of a very large puzzle. You liked dancing, although you’d never actually been out dancing before. Papa was too worried about boys hitting on you. You did go out sometimes, with some friend of yours, but only during the day, and only to high-end spaces where the chances of a guy trying to put moves on you were low. An odd detail: You liked little chocolates, particularly the ones with cherry filling. Sans could vividly picture you gently biting into one, the filling as red as those soft lips. Dangerous lips that spelled death for anyone who dared to come near them.

You were just so off-limits that all you did was rile Sans up when he thought about you.

His mind raced with What ifs. What if he had just taken the opportunity to kiss you right there? What if you had agreed to his offer to show you how he could get around without being seen? What if he had been able to bring you somewhere private… and take away that innocence your father had worked so painstakingly hard to preserve?

Heheh. You would’ve been calling out “Daddy,” but you wouldn’t have meant--

“I heard that guy Acerbi is after her.”

“Acerbi? Don Acerbi?”

“No, you idiot, his son.”

Sans was snapped out of his incredibly racy daydream. “Huh? Who?”

Vinnie answered his question. “Adolfo Acerbi, Boss. The Acerbi family’s territory is right around--”

“I don’t care about that, whaddaya mean he’s after her?”

Don answered that. “Y’know, he wants to marry her. She’s an only child, so if he married ‘er, once her dad croaked he’d end up being the heir to their whole business.”

“Fuck, you serious?”

“Yeah. And for now it’d unite the families ‘n such. All that mafia stuff.”

Sans felt a surge of jealousy, even though he knew it was unwarranted. You didn’t belong to him-- well, you didn’t belong to anyone, you were your own person, even if your father wanted you to be his. Still, Sans wasn’t your boyfriend, he had no real right to feel jealous over you. Especially not the level of jealousy he was feeling right now.

But the objective truth couldn’t change the way he felt.

“Hey, Boss,” said Vinnie. “Didn’tcha say you were gonna talk with someone today?”

He was startled out of his thoughts again and checked his watch. “Oh, shit.” He got up. At least he wouldn’t be late. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

“Oh, uh, no problem, Boss.”

--

“Was he nice?” asked Mindy.

“Of course,” you told her. “He was in front of my dad.”

The two of you were sitting in a small but very expensive cafe and deli, immaculately clean and filled with people in nice dress. It was always nice to be with her, for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, she was your friend. You simply enjoyed her company.

Secondly, the cat monster was your window to the outside world.

While she was wealthy-- most monsters were after having left the Underground-- Mindy didn’t know where your father actually got his money. She was a civilian. Unlike you, she’d gone to college, and she’d been on dates with lots of boys. Ironically, despite being a monster, she knew a certain kind of freedom you’d never known. Mindy actually got around quite a bit, though you didn’t mind that. It was part of what made her interesting. She was wild, so she had a lot of fun stories.

At the moment, though, you were the one telling her a story, about the “nice young man” you’d met at the party. Adolfo Acerbi. Italian, obviously. Your parents had taken quite a liking to him, and you could understand why: He seemed well-educated, he was polite, and he had only said the sweetest of things to you.

You hated him already.

It was all fake. You could tell. He did a good job of hiding it from your parents but it was fairly obvious to you what was going on. You had no brothers. If he could just weasel his way into your father’s favor and wed you, then he could sit atop an empire made of two families’ blood, greed and arrogance. And you would be stuck right there with him. It was a no from you, but unlike Mindy, you didn’t really have any say in the matter. Mafia princesses were called princesses for a reason.

But you couldn’t tell Mindy all of that. She didn’t know where your family got their money. So all you said was, “He just wants my dad’s money.”

“Aw, honey, maybe you’re just being paranoid.” Mindy smiled at you. “Love exists, you know.”

You snorted. “I know that. It’s just… he’s sweet, but… too sweet? Too romantic.”

“Mmm, like he rehearsed it or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh, those boys are the worst.” She shrugged. “Oh well. You don’t have to date him if you don’t want to.”

If only.

You considered telling her about the encounter with Sans and Papyrus-- she’d be bound to find it entertaining-- but you had the feeling that if you did she would just keep teasing you about Sans. Besides, she didn’t need to know anything about mobsters who didn’t really have anything to do with you. Your father didn’t do business with the skeleton brothers, as far as you knew, and chances were you would never speak with them again. Sans wasn’t worth mentioning.

But fate is a cruel mistress, and no sooner had you dismissed any thoughts of Sans than a large shape emerged in your periphery. Near the doorway. The shape was unmistakable.

Sans had been fun. Too fun. As much as you wanted someone in the underbelly of society to make you smile, you didn’t need it. If you had fun, you would forget just how bad your world was, and you would quit wanting to leave. You didn’t need to speak to him any more.

“What are you doing?” asked Mindy.

You realized you had ducked down and held up your menu in hopes of hiding your face. You wanted to relax, but you really didn’t need to talk to him anymore. “Nothing,” you said, though you knew she wouldn’t believe you.

“Oh my God, is it him?” She started to look around unabashedly.

“N-- no, it’s not Acerbi.”

“Not Acerbi-- Wait, is there somebody else? Is that why you don’t like Acerbi?” Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oooooh, there’s a boy you haven’t told me about.”

“No, it’s not like that!” you said. But you couldn’t explain, it had everything to do with your world, and she couldn’t know about your world.

“Oh my, are you blushing?”

“What? No.” Your face didn’t even feel warm.

“Don’t lie to me, I can see it. Your face is so red.”

Well, now your face was warm. Mindy beamed. Thanks a lot, Mindy.

“Hey there, dollface. Fancy seein’ you here.”

… Fuck.

You lowered the menu. You didn’t have to look for him; Sans’ shape on your left blocked out everything else nearby. You tried to ignore the burning on your face and smiled politely. “Hello, Mr. Sans.”

“Hey, sweetheart, I toldja last night, ya can call me Sans.”

You saw Mindy’s eyes widen. Last night, no she’s getting the wrong impression, no no Mindy it’s not like that I didn’t have sex with him I didn’t I don’t even know how we would do that I just met him at a party--

You forced your mind to stop racing. “Right. Sans. Is there anything you need?”

“Just to talk to you, doll.” He winked. His smile was so genuine, so goofy despite the sharp teeth. You felt the corners of your mouth turning up and bit the insides of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling any more. You’re just making this worse, jackass….

His voice lowered:

“What’s with the red face? Happy to see me?”

You tried to ignore your face getting hotter. “M… My friend here was embarrassing me about something.” Good, a distraction. You gestured to Mindy. “Um, Sans, this is my good friend Mindy. Mindy, this is Sans, my… um…”

Sans raised a brow. “Aww. Tellin’ me we ain’t friends?”

Oh my God, did he learn anything from last night?

“... friend,” you finished. “My friend, Sans.”

Mindy wasn’t buying it even though it was the truth. “Oh, of course. Your friend.” She wiggled her eyebrows. Still, she gave Sans a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” His grin widened. “You look like the cat’s pajamas.” A wink. “Absolutely purrfect.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted, which only made Sans look more enthusiastic. You tried to hide your face again.

Mindy raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh my, aren’t you a charmer?”

He tipped the brim of his hat. “Sure, to the women I want.” His eyelights looked over at you and he winked.

You glared at him, openly this time. You are such a moron. You could literally die. For doing this. You couldn’t defend him forever.

His smile became slightly nervous. Finally, he was getting the message. Why did he have to be so thick? And funny?

“So,” said Mindy, “why are you here? You’re not stalking my friend, are you? Stalking isn’t romantic, you know.”

He chuckled. “Nah. I can’t actually talk fer too long, I’m here tah meet a, uh… business associate.”

Mindy smiled incredulously. “Business associate? What are you, part of the mob?”

You forced yourself to snicker at that, as if the idea was ridiculous. Sans blinked, looking mildly surprised-- he’d probably expected Mindy to know. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. “I wish. It’d be more exciting.” He turned back to you. “I also wanted to give you an offer.”

He nodded in the direction of the doorway and you squinted at him. You weren’t going to leave with him. Was he that stupid?

“I jus’ wanna talk over there.”

You raised an eyebrow, and felt your thumb fiddling with your menu. You didn’t need to speak with him… but you were curious. So you got up and followed him, still inside, by the door.

He dug around in his pocket. “Last night was nice.”

“Which part?” you asked coldly.

“All of it, babe, yer fun to talk to.” He pulled out his wallet and started going through it. “I was thinkin’ I’d like to talk to ya again, if ya ever want.”

He found what he was looking for and held up what was clearly a fake business card for whatever civilian job he claimed to have. He held it out to you.

“If ya ever need anythin’... like, y’know, company… jus’ give me or Paps a call, huh?” He shrugged. “Well, maybe not Paps. But me.” He flashed those shark-like teeth at you.

You just stared. What on Earth was his problem? He could easily go flirt with someone whose father wouldn’t have him shot for it.

“C’mon, babe, you were fun. I don’t meet a lotta fun people.” He held it out further. “Please?”

His pleading smile was seemed so genuine.

Whatever. You smiled politely, taking the card. “Thanks. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

Judging from the look on his face, he could tell you didn’t mean it. He seemed… disappointed.

You felt disappointed too. Good.

He tipped the brim of his hat again. “Anyway, I’ll let you two ladies keep talking. It was nice seein’ you again.”

“Nice seeing you,” you said.

When you made your way back to the table and sat down, Mindy folded her arms. “So. Mister Sans, huh?”

“It’s not like that,” you said.

“‘Sure, to the women I want,’” she said, doing her best impression of Sans’ deep, smooth voice. She then raised her eyebrows at you as if daring you to offer an explanation.

“We met at the same party where I met Adolfo,” you said. “He flirted with me, and I turned him down.” You left out the part where you let him hold you and… kiss you. The spot at the corner of your lip that he’d kissed suddenly felt tingly. It had probably been the most rebellious thing you’d ever done, despite how much you hated the lifestyle you’d been born into.

“You what?” Mindy said, almost slamming her hands down on the table in outrage. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like him. He’s probably the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

“Ouch,” she said. “Harsh.”  She sighed in mock disappointment. “What a shame. His name is so short. Easy to moan.”

You felt a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Why don’t you just go sleep with him if you find him so appealing?”

“Nuh-uh. I smell a budding romance.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “An intelligent girl, wooed by an unlikely man. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“That will never happen in a million--”

“Ooh, ooh, before I forget to tell you! Next weekend this… club I know…” She gave you a wink. You knew what that meant-- a speakeasy. “... is having a swing night. You told me you’ve never gone dancing before. We should go!”

You felt your heart sink, the previous conversation instantly forgotten. You shook your head. “My parents wouldn’t let me.” Too many boys.

“Then sneak out. Easy fix.”

“N… No.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Just ask, OK? Please?”

You nodded. “... OK.”

“Thank you.” She looked at the card in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, just some stupid card he gave me with his number.” You turned it over in your hand.

“Mmmm, his number. You gonna keep it?”

“I already said I don’t like him, why would I keep his number?”

You grabbed your purse. Trying not to make eye contact with Mindy, you tilted the bag towards you so that she wouldn’t see the small pistol inside, and tucked the card into a pocket inside the purse. You tried to seem nonchalant about it, but when you looked at Mindy again she was wearing a massive, smug grin on her face.

“I’m going to throw it away when I get home,” you told her.

“Riiiight.” She took a sip of her water. “Of course.”

“I am,” you insisted. You just didn’t want to toss it anywhere. But you told yourself you were going to throw it away.

You didn’t.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Normally I open up the Homestuck 2 liveblog with a tongue-in-cheek comment about how reading HS2 is pain, but I just watched the debate and HS2 looks incredible by comparison, so let’s see if this good mood carries over. Looks like we’re on Candyland, too, Candy updates tend to be better (or at least bad in a funny way) than the oft-boring Meat updates, and personally, I think “The Omega Kids fuck around” is the best part of HS2 by yards.

Man, that lamp is almost perfectly positioned to draw a line through the image separating the two scenes (the dialogue for which is on two separate columns), but it’s just the tiniest bit off-center. I wonder if that was intentional and mobile-responsiveness is just a cruel mistress. It’s a cute touch, if so. I suppose the door (and the photos, which are the same height as the door) also serves the same purpose of having the two scenes be sectioned off. I don’t really know a lot about “scene composition” so maybe I should stay in my wheelhouse, but I think it’s divided very nicely

HARRY: and some of us aren't gods and shit. JOHN: i'm detecting a hint of judgement in your voice, there, harry anderson JOHN: don't you enjoy being a part of all this? finally getting to be in the thick of it all?

John, always dense, has not picked up on Harry Anderson’s demotion to Harry. He’s also inserting a lot of his own desires onto Harry, here, too. Vrissy is the one who wanted to be in the thick of it all (thematic idea to stick a pin into to see if it plays out: John should be mentoring Vrissy and Vriska should be mentoring Harry. Some evidence that HS2 is building this idea, but not a lot yet)

HARRY: now YOU look like you're hiding some extra commentary. JOHN: oh, i don't need to burden you with all the bureaucratic stuff, it's boring.

You gotta subscribe to John’s $20/mo Patreon tier for that, Harry.

JOHN: because here i am, sitting in the dugout, same as you. HARRY: in the dugout? JOHN: oh, or, uh... JOHN: what's a metaphor you might like better... HARRY: no, JOHN: i'm like the uhh...understudy. HARRY: dad. no, jesus, you don't have to do this. JOHN: or i got cast in as babysitter number 2 when i had auditioned for, i dunno, HARRY: yeah, please, i got the baseball metaphor. HARRY: i'm not a complete fucking nerd.

John doesn’t really “get” theater kids, I get. It makes me think a little of how John’s dad thought John was massively into clowns. Also, this is a cute.

JOHN: it's been really nice to get to spend so much time with you. HARRY: um. yeah, it's not so bad. HARRY: anyway, before you ruffle my hair or anything, it looks like things are getting a bit heated between the vriskas over there. HARRY: maybe we should offer them a snack to bring the mood back down? JOHN: me, mess up your hair when you’ve worked so hard on that look? i do know you at least that well, harry anderson HARRY: thank god.

This is also cute. Harry maybe the only person in the entire cast of Homestuck or Homestuck 2 to have a semi-normal relationship with his parents.

Speaking of semi-symmetry, the line where Harry says how happy he is to stay home almost lines up perfectly with Vriska being furious that she has to stay home. I wonder again if that’s a coincidence of if someone had a really clever idea that didn’t make it fully intact through editing (or was considered not worth the effort). 

VRISKA: How are you so calm right now? Your lusii were training you, right? And you’re a troll, you’re definitely five times stronger than a human! And if you’re my clone, you are way more 8adass than little miss Fussy Fangs.

Vriska is making several false assumptions here, but the most interesting one is that Vrissy is Vriska’s clone. She’s not. She’s descended from Vriska, and takes after Vriska very strongly, but it’s not a one-to-one thing.

VRISSY: 8ut I guess this Situation is Kind of Serious? VRISSY: There’s a whole Plan and Stuff Like that. VRISKA: Clearly not a good plan, 8ecause then I would 8e part of it!

Vriska.jpg

VRISKA: That’s just even more indication that they don’t know what they’re doing! Lalonde and Maryam have had however many sweeps to get older and stupider, 8ut from where I’m standing, it was literally only a few days ago that I was their commander! I am primed for the 8attlefield!

Okay, this line is across from John saying he’s in the dugout. There is absolutely an intentional, if not one-to-one strict, mirroring of these two conversations that’s actually really neat. I should go back to the other times HS2 has had conversations formatted like this to see if this mirroring has been happening all along. It’s a really good use of the format! I like this a lot! 

JOHN: so anyway, as you can see, this would have worked just fine! HARRY: no i think karkat’s right. this looks like shit, dad. JOHN: you know, me letting your earlier use of the word "fuck" slide wasn't a blanket approval for all cursing in front of me. HARRY: sorry. HARRY: try not to make such a shit plan, and i won't call it that. JOHN: haha wow.

The other thing I like is the John/Harry dynamic. 

HARRY: it's not like i think i'm any better! HARRY: i mean, i still can't believe i told vrissy and them to bring a dead celebrity to school. HARRY: what was i THINKING. JOHN: you were thinking it sounded hilarious! JOHN: but yeah, in hindsight, maybe not the best call. JOHN: maybe it’s genetic? HARRY: yeah. HARRY: i kinda can’t believe we’re all still alive, actually. HARRY: and how did YOU make it this far, being so bad at this? JOHN: i had my friends with me, i guess.

John your friends repeatedly tried to kill you and succeeded at least twice. 

He’d spent so long seeing mostly the best parts of Roxy in Harry Anderson. He forgot, he guesses, to look for himself in there, too. And if what they have in common right now is a lack of strategic foresight, hey, he’ll take it.

I’m slowly developing a theory that John is subconsciously the narrator of Candy, given how everything suddenly started going John’s way after Calliope left (and how the narrator seemed to really hate Gamzee last chapter). Remember, John has spoken in narration before in HS1, but never seemed to realize he was doing it. I probably need to essay this theory out at some point, but not now.

Oh, hey! Jane does have goons! And they’ve slightly change the way they draw Rose’s hair, so her head isn’t a perfect circle with lines on it. This looks much better. 

JANE: I haven't given a political speech in years, Ms. Lalonde. I don't know what you're referring to. I'm just a simple business woman. JADE: right with her own talk show JADE: and multi billion dollar merchant company and lobbying groups! JANE: That's what a business woman is, Jade, dear.

I know that this is supposed to be Capitalism Bad, but “You claim to be a businesswoman when you own a merchant company!”. Jade. Come on. This reads less as Jane going “Of course I’m evil, I’m a CEO” and more that Jade literally doesn’t know what a business woman is. 

JANE: You are on my territory, in the presence of my secret police, laying your hand on my investment.

Jane you don’t own “territory” do you not know what a businesswoman is either?

JANE: Your ship is in contested airspace. You will land, whereby it will be confiscated by the Royal Human Guard. After that you will be taken into custody. 

CONTESTED BY WHOM, JANE? WHO THE FUCK IS THE WAR BETWEEN?!

JADE: shut the fuck up for a minute and look up!

There’s a BIG-ASS spaceship like ten feet in front of you! Did you not notice until Jade pointed it out?

Also why does the Rebellion ship have the Crockercorp prongs on it?

JANE: Or have you forgotten who has been paying for her schooling and taking charge of her introduction into society? JADE: i never asked you to do that! JADE: you offered! JADE: so stop calling me ungrateful for not sucking your dick over things i never asked for!

Sorry again, Jade, are you implying that you wouldn’t have given your daughter an education had Jane not offered? “Rose and Jade entrusted their daughter to Jane, who they were at war with” is an enigma of a plot point.

The world is watching her be dressed down by a couple blood traitor rebels, one of which has very prominent dog ears. Jane wonders if either of them are even recognizable to the assembled as two of the old gods. One of her PR managers had recommended that she keep her look as static as possible, so that people can always recognize her as Jane Crocker, Captain of Industry, Creator of Earth C, Maintainer of Peace and Plenty.

Jade has always had dog ears what the fuck? I guess this is supposed to be Jane’s warped thinking.

So, anyway, Kanaya fake-holds Tavvy hostage, Jane buys the threat as real and they build up like Jane is going to sacrifice her own son for PR points but she ultimately stands down and lets everyone go. It’s left intentionally vague whether or not she was always going to do this, or if she didn’t want to do it in front of Jake, or if the presence of Jake stirred something in her that made her change her mind. I like the ambiguity. 

This was a very “Homestuck 2″ update. The plot of kind of nonsense, but it’s carried by the character interactions and a bit of cleverness.

[artificialqueens]

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 1: The Institution: 1, Katya: 0 (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: It’s Maeve again! I’m so freaking surprised and overjoyed at the positive reception Girls Interrupted has received. All of you who have such kind things have truly inspired me to keep going on this. I can now say I'm rewatching seasons in the name of research! As always, feedback is welcome. I write because I enjoy it but also so other people can enjoy it, too. So, really, I’d love to hear any feedback or suggestions.

P.S. I’m having so much fun writing the interactions between Katya and the other queens, but I think my favorite part of this chapter is either an especially cheeky Sharon Needles line or the gym teacher/coach that is very loosely based on a straight Santino Rice

This chapter picks up right where the last chapter left off: Violet and Katya’s ice breaker activity…

Fortunately, Violet realized that she would—at the very least—have to cooperate with the menial activity. “Violet,” she supplied cooly.

Katya tried and failed to stifle her laugh. The raven-haired girl looked at her challengingly.

“Tha-that’s a good choice. Very good. I love every color!” Katya stammered as she wrote down Violet’s response. She couldn’t be sure if her partner was filling out her own worksheet, but Katya couldn’t bring herself to care that much. She just wanted this over and done with. Each moment she spent next to the cheerleader made her feel more and more inadequate. Violet was judging her; she felt small enough on her own.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Katya continued.

This one Violet was quick to answer, “Literally anywhere but here.”

Her passive face told Katya she wasn’t going to get a better answer. I’ll just put down ‘Everywhere. She loves to travel.’, she resolved. “I think it would be really cool to go to Russia,” Katya offered.

Violet’s eyes left her phone screen. They searched the face of the blonde across the table, traveled down to Katya’s communism-inspired name card, and finally met her partner’s ocean blue eyes. “No?” Her face contorted in mock shock. “Let me guess,” she pandered, “If you could have lunch with any famous person dead or alive, you’d choose Putin.”

“Good guess,” Katya shook her head with amusement, “But it’s actually Maria Bamford.” It was obvious that Violet had no idea who Maria Bamford was. However, a quick glance at the clock told her there wasn’t enough time left in the class for her to go off on another tangent. “What about you, Violet?”

“Dita Von Teese. Next,” she urged.

“What are your favorite TV shows?” Katya continued eagerly, excited that Violet was finally being an active participant.

Violet’s response was almost instant, “Forensic Files and Sex and the City.” Everything about the brunette screamed confidence and certainty—something that came through in everything that she did. Katya wished it were that easy for her.

“I really like Game of Thrones, The Heart She Holler, and Storage Wars: Northern Treasures…..It’s the Canadian version,” Katya trailed off. There was an unspoken ‘and?’ in Violet’s expression, but she couldn’t produce a single reason for why that mattered. But it had mattered. “Anyway…What’s next?” Katya pushed through her embarrassment. “Something I’m good at? Sleeping, I’m good at sleeping. I guess I’m very bendy. Flexible. I can do theater, too…”

“Just put down cheer for me,” Violet ordered without looking up from her own worksheet. The blonde hesitated at the instruction, and Violet let out an impatient huff. “What?”

Katya was quick to apologize, “Sorry, it’s just that I thought you might say something about fashion.” She swallowed thickly. “I’m-I’ve seen you in the halls before, and you look good. Great. Your clothes. You clearly put a lot of effort into your appearance, and I thou—”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Violet spat. “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t pretend like you do.”

The blonde hurriedly scribbled down the word cheer under question five on her page and grabbed both of their papers. “Right. I’ll just go turn these in,” Katya fled the table without a thought. She had clearly angered Violet. Didn’t the popular kids like it when you stroked their egos? Katya wondered. She hadn’t meant to come off as judgemental. It was obvious that they weren’t on the same level, and hopefully Violet would understand that she hadn’t been trying to judge her. She only wanted to get to know the girl better, but she knew know how stupid she’d been to think that possible. No one like Violet would ever waste time on her. Sighing, she placed the two worksheets in a plastic turn-in bin labeled ‘4th’, and made her way back to her desk.

Katya had been disappointed that she had double A Lunch, but the forty minutes were the perfect break before pre-calculus. While it meant she could eat earlier, it also meant that she had no friends to eat with. Ginger and Bianca both had B Lunch. So Katya found herself on the steps of the stairs in the courtyard by the fine arts wing, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich. There was beauty in the simple things, though, and Katya could appreciate the warmth of the sun and the slight breeze that late morning.

Mrs. Hugh’s room was stuffy. Katya’s funfetti extravaganza was clinging to her yet again, but she couldn’t adjust the fabric too much without disrupting those around her. She wasn’t willing to risk it. Unlike in all her other classes, the blonde always sat front and center in math class. All of the numbers made a mess in her head, and it was easier if she had fewer distractions. No one else felt the same way, though. So when Alaska tumbled in just before the tardy bell, Katya was forced into yet another less than ideal situation.The sunny cheerleader didn’t share that sentiment. Alaska flashed Katya a hundred watt smile and whispered a hello.

Katya didn’t get Alaska. Alaska wasn’t your stereotypical dumb blonde. She struggled in some areas but always kept up with the pack. So she was smarter than she looked? Big deal. What Katya failed to understand was why such a kind, sincere, and smart person would allow herself to be bullied by her peers. The cheer squad clearly didn’t think she had brain cells; Alaska was practically their punching bag from what she’d observed. So why hang around?

Miss Honard, you are an enigma, Katya assessed.

Katya’s continued curiosity over the duration of  Mrs. Hugh’s introductory speech gained her a very important piece of information: if she couldn’t get the lanky blonde out of her head, she was going to have to let her in. And Katya would not be friends with a cheerleader.

Katya praised Marx for the district employee who put Bianca Del Rio in her history class. She and Bianca were unlikely friends—a high school mascot and a theater kid didn’t really run in the same circles—but made an unstoppable duo. Coach A., their teacher seemed to get a kick out of them too.

Bianca was an unexpected constant in Katya’s life. The self-proclaimed bitch was Spartacus, the high school mascot, and the two would never have overlapped if not for their shared love/hate relationship with theater. She was a year younger than Katya but that didn’t stop her from providing Katya with the tough love she needed to keep her head screwed on. Keeping her head on straight was out of the question; Bianca did what she could.

The two girls schlepped over to the far side of the school where the gym was located. Katya, who had made the dumb decision to postpone getting her PE credit for as long, was not looking forward to an entire year of physical activity. Bianca, on the other hand, basically earned herself a double off campus by taking on the role of mascot. And yes, she definitely took pleasure in rubbing the fact in Katya’s face. Sucks to suck.

The other shit thing about a 7th period gym class was that Katya would be in uncomfortably close proximity to the cheerleaders. It felt wrong—almost like she was breaking a nonexistent restraining order. What sick bastard decided the plebs in “team sports” should be forced to observe the pretty girls in peak physical capacity while they drowned in their own sweat? Katya didn’t know the answer, and you certainly couldn’t hold her accountable if they were suddenly beheaded.

One locker and a stack of unisex uniforms later, Katya found herself entertaining the musings of Sharon Needles, resident goth girl.

“‘I look spooky, but I’m really nice,’” Sharon had said when they were assigned lockers next to each other. The witchy teen had a thing for reading people—not that an anxious Katya was hard to see through—and took one look at her and saw a kindred spirit. The funfetti dress and clown shoes didn’t scream normal, either. Katya had been uncharacteristically optimistic about befriending Sharon for all of ten minutes before everything went to shit. Phi Phi O’Hara, Sharon’s mortal enemy, also happened to be in the class.

“I’m surprised you took gym, Party City. Wouldn’t want you to melt in your own sweat.” Phi Phi snarked. The playground bully reclined herself against the row of lockers across from them and examined her nails.

Katya groaned inwardly. Sharon groaned outwardly.

“Fuck off, Phi Phi,” Sharon begged. “Don’t you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice? My ears are bleeding and not in a pleasant way.”

“Eat shit and die, Shar Bear,” Phi Phi called over her shoulder as she skipped off to bother some other poor shmucks.

Phi Phi the schoolyard bully reminded Katya of the villain poodle in one of those Open Season movies. Ironically, that poodle was also named Fifi, which was funny because the poodle was also a boy. Fifi the poodle was groomed like a pretty purse dog and had a little blue bow in his hair. Katya was inclined to take Phi Phi O’Hara—who was not incredibly dissimilar to a trophy pet—just as seriously.

“What crawled up her ass and died?” Katya scrunched up her face.

“If you find out, let me know,” Sharon deadpanned. “I need a smoke.” Katya watched in amusement as the locker room’s resident goth chick removed a pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter from her leather jacket. Sharon caught the blonde’s expression and raised her fist in response. “Fight the system,” she stoically decreed. Katya shrugged as if to say “what can you do?” and gestured for Sharon to walk back to the gym with her.

Their gym class had been banished to the wooden bleachers so the cheerleaders could practice for that Friday’s Back-To-School Pep Rally. The two girls tucked themselves into a far corner on the top row, and Sharon finally lit up.

Coach Rice, who had taken attendance at the beginning of class, had stepped in to assist Coach Calhoun with cheer practice.

Katya and Sharon were fortunate enough to have an unobstructed view of the girls shamelessly throwing themselves at the older man. The majority of the bimbettes were faces she expected: Detox, Roxy, Willam, Courtney, Adore, and Laganja. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was for one Violet Chachki to be the leader of the pack. Stratford’s mean queen never sought out attention, let alone fought for it. Miss Chachki was a one of a kind collectible, and the entire student body knew it. You either wanted her or wanted to be her.

Today, it seemed her flavor of choice was Santino Rice.

Katya udged Sharon with her elbow. “What do you make of that?” She consulted the other girl.

Sharon took a moment to complete her assessment. “I bet a girl that tightly wound is a real screamer in bed,” she answered smoothly. Katya had not been expecting any response of the sort and physically toppled over as she was seized by laughter. Katya’s wheezing drew the attention of those nearby, and Sharon had to hold her cigarette in her mouth so she could flip them off with both hands. They could mind their own fucking business.

Katya was still clinging onto Sharon’s thigh when her fit died down. “You bitch!” She shrieked.

“I’m not wrong,” Sharon defended, taking another long drag from her cigarette. “Ten bucks says she’s hitting on him right now.” In her best Valley Girl impression she crooned, “Oh, Coach Rice, can you help me with my form?”

Katya wasted no time in contributing to the impression. “Can we go to Red Lobster?” The blonde begged in her best Violet-esque bedroom voice.

The absurdity of the request and the thought of Violet, herself, saying those words caused Sharon to half cackle and half choke on her own smoke. Her throaty laugh bounced off of the walls, and this time, it wasn’t just a few pairs of eyes that turned to them.

Uh oh, Katya cringed, busted.

“Sharon Needles, put that shit out and march your ass on over to Assistant Principal Visage’s office!” Coach Rice demanded.

Katya facepalmed hard. What is wrong with you, you stupid whore? She groaned. It’s your fault she’s in deep shit, and she’s never going to speak to you again. The blonde was about to lose herself in an abyss of despair when Sharon’s voice filled the room again.

“Oh no!” Sharon drawled, “Whatever shall I do?” Katya had brought her head up to witness the spectacle and was met with Sharon’s shit-eating grin.

Katya raised her fist in solidarity, referencing Sharon’s anti-establishment words in the locker room. Her spooky new friend shot her a cheeky wink before saluting her corporate whistleblower and unhurriedly leaving the building.

Katya’s eyes left Sharon’s retreating form just in time to catch Violet glaring at her.

The blonde did her best not to worry. It wasn’t like Violet could have known they were talking about her, right?

The bell rang at 3:00, and Katya still hadn’t managed to put the captain of the cheer squad out of her mind. She spent her entire 8th period dodging Bianca’s questions and pleading for some all-knowing entity to tell her just where in life she had gone wrong. Definitely new year, same bullshit. Katya had attempted to begin her junior year with a more optimistic attitude, but after a first day for the history books, she was ready to call it quits.

You win, Stratford, you win. I am but a shell of a man. Woe is the poor soul who dare enter thee, Katya scowled.

The rest of Katya’s will to live vanished when she finally reached her trusty blue Beetle in the junior lot.

“Mother, I am want to commit death,” she muttered.

The cherry red convertible parked next to Katya’s car belonged to none other than Violet Chachki. The bright red exterior was blinding under the afternoon sun, and Katya had to squint to make out faces. A swarm of girls in uniform short skirts and halter tops formed a green and white sea around her only means of escape. Not wanting to engage with Violet for a third time that day, the blonde chose to turn on her heels and pop a squat on the curb.

It was going to be a long year.

[gotatext]

 hello, its nora (she/her, gmt) n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam (she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck). raised in a farmhouse in vermont, big horse girl energy. very hungry for everything life has to offer. wakes up and smells the success in her blood. luvs the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. here is pinterest. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages but i might forget tho so pls message me x

application template.

『ELLE FANNING ❙ CIS-FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM is here for HER JUNIOR year as a CLASSICS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be RESILIENT, MAGNETIC, CALLOUS & PROUD. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ NORA. 24. GMT. SHE/HER.

aesthetics.

a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake. 

proceed w caution, tw for death, drugs, alcohol, violence

the short form.

— studying classics cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus and writing about how all women in myth are literally forgotten. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into radcliffe but she made an impression.... like... super fast and in her sophomore year she was upgraded to perkins accomodation n a paid scholarship bcos i think the governors kind of expect to see her in the supreme court one day or.

—  born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.

— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years.

— very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets. — ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless” — is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french.

— studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin.

— isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

— pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class. — very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan. — judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive

— obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen. — tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. very amy dunne in the way she expertly reinvents herself to suit her audience, when she wants to impress

— act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity — heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention. — has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

— her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk. — relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art. – likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.

plots.

here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:

study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library

if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends –  probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !

people who live in perkins n feel like they r constantly competing with one another to keep their place as one of the #elite only know each other from brief interactions in the lift or the canteen

honestly someone who is fully in love with her or crushing on her that she can just break would be sweet :/ or on the other hand someone she unexpectedly gets feelings for and actually wants to guage her own  eyeballs out bc of it

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !

hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning

i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties

people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse

A SECRET SOCIETY !!! honestly i would die for a slug club esque thing in which the children of notable families are invited to dinners OR alma’s also an art forger, so maybe like a club of students set up to basically forge paintings and documents from the university special collections

people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all

full biography.

alma olive putnam.

intro.

         the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.

biography.

         if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.

         at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.

         your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.

         language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.

         fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.

         the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to radcliffe. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive. you feel like a god.