#and have to carefully navigate a new place where they have to hide their secretly 'monstrous' true nature

[gravedirtandbriarthorns]

That meme about experts in a particular field wrongly assuming that everyone understands what is to them surface level basics but otherwise still very niche information, but about gay subtext in films.

AKA I made an off-handed comment referring to that Luca movie (which my niece LOVES right now for w/e reason) as "the little mermaid but the main characters are two gay boys"

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Aaa can we pls get some pining Milo x a shy reader? Maybe reader is a secret admirer and he figures it out (or Vice versa SHKSDBSJ)

A/N: I loved this idea so I wrote two versions, one where the reader is the admirer and one where Milo is the admirer, but I hope you enjoyed this!! Happy reading!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Milo as the admirer

Milo has always been drawn to you, ever since you first started working together. But he’s never been good at expressing his feelings, especially when he’s around someone he admires as much as you. So instead of telling you outright, he starts leaving small tokens of his affection—a favorite book, a handwritten note, or a carefully selected flower, always placed where he knows you’ll find it.

You notice the gifts almost immediately. They’re always thoughtful, perfectly suited to your tastes and interests, and it doesn’t take long before you start to suspect someone in the archives might be behind them. But no one ever comes forward, and you’re too shy to ask around.

One day, you find a note tucked into a book you were looking for. It’s written in neat, careful handwriting and simply says, “I thought you might like this. –A Friend.” The message is sweet, but it leaves you with more questions than answers.

Determined to figure out who’s been leaving these thoughtful gifts, you start paying closer attention to the people around you. It’s not long before you notice how Milo always seems to know exactly what you’re looking for, or how he lingers nearby whenever you find one of the gifts.

Finally, one day, you decide to confront him, though your heart is racing at the thought. You wait until the two of you are alone in the archives, the silence filled only by the sound of pages turning and the soft click of typewriter keys. Taking a deep breath, you approach him, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Milo,” you start, catching his attention. “I’ve been finding these… notes and things. Do you know anything about them?”

Milo’s reaction is immediate—his eyes widen, and a faint blush creeps up his cheeks. He stammers for a moment, clearly taken off guard. “I—I might know something about that,” he finally admits, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

You give him a curious look, encouraging him to continue. He sighs, realizing there’s no point in hiding it anymore. “It’s me,” he says softly, meeting your eyes with a mixture of hope and anxiety. “I didn’t know how else to tell you… how I feel.”

His confession leaves you speechless for a moment, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he looks at you with such earnestness makes your heart swell. You can hardly believe that Milo, who you’ve admired from afar, has been doing the same.

“I didn’t expect it to be you,” you admit, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m really glad it is.”

Milo’s eyes brighten at your response, and for the first time, he looks truly relieved. “Really?” he asks, almost disbelieving. When you nod, his smile widens, and he takes a step closer, a new confidence in his voice. “Maybe we could… spend more time together? Outside of work, I mean.”

With your heart still fluttering, you agree, and you can already tell that this is the beginning of something special between the two of you.

Reader as the admirer

You’ve admired Milo Thatch for as long as you can remember, captivated by his intellect, his passion for history, and the way his eyes light up when he talks about Atlantis. But your shyness has kept you from ever confessing your feelings. Instead, you’ve found a different way to express your love—through small, romantic notes that you secretly leave for him to find.

The first note you leave is simple yet heartfelt. “You have the most beautiful mind I’ve ever known,” it reads. You slip it into his journal one evening when the library is quiet and empty, your hands trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. As you walk away, your heart races at the thought of him finding it, imagining the small smile that might cross his face when he reads your words.

Milo discovers the note the next morning, nestled between the pages of his journal. At first, he’s surprised—no one usually leaves him notes—but as he reads it, a warm smile spreads across his face. The note is kind, thoughtful, and incredibly personal. It makes him feel seen in a way he’s rarely experienced before. He can’t help but wonder who left it, his mind drifting to you as he tucks the note back into his journal, a small warmth blossoming in his chest.

As the days pass, you continue leaving notes for him, each one more affectionate than the last. “Your smile brightens my day,” reads one, which you tuck into the pages of his favorite book. “I could listen to you talk for hours,” says another, which you carefully place in his coat pocket. With each note, you pour more of your feelings into the words, hoping that they reach him, even if you can’t muster the courage to say them aloud.

Milo begins to look forward to finding these notes. They’ve become the highlight of his day, a secret connection that lifts his spirits even during the most challenging times. He reads each note over and over, memorizing your words and the way they make him feel. He’s never felt this way before—so cherished, so valued. The notes are from someone who sees him, who truly understands him. His thoughts often drift to you, the way you always seem to be nearby, offering a quiet smile or a kind word. Could it be you leaving these notes? The idea makes his heart race.

Then comes the note that changes everything. “Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat. You have no idea how much I love you.” The words are more vulnerable, more direct than anything you’ve written before. You leave it in his journal once more, the place where it all began, and you can hardly breathe as you walk away, wondering if you’ve finally gone too far, or if maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way.

Milo finds the note that evening, and as he reads the words, his heart pounds in his chest. There’s no mistaking the depth of the feelings in this note—it’s not just admiration, it’s love. And suddenly, everything clicks into place. He thinks about how you always seem to be there, how your eyes linger on him just a little longer than anyone else’s, how your smile always brightens when he catches you looking at him. It must be you. It has to be.

Determined to know for sure, Milo decides to wait. He stays late in the library that evening, pretending to be engrossed in his research but really watching the door, hoping to see you. When you finally arrive, your eyes darting nervously around the room, his heart skips a beat. He watches as you approach his desk, another note clutched tightly in your hand. You don’t notice him watching you; you’re too focused on slipping the note into his book, your hands trembling slightly as you do.

Before you can turn to leave, Milo steps forward, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you, isn’t it?” he asks, holding the note you just placed in his hand.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Slowly, you turn to face him, and when your eyes meet, you see the note in his hand, and the realization that he knows dawns on you. Your heart races, your cheeks flush with a mix of fear and hope.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you can finish, Milo takes another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t apologize,” he says gently, his voice laced with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “These notes… they’ve meant more to me than I can say. I’ve been trying to figure out who’s been leaving them, and now that I know it’s you…”

He trails off, his gaze softening as he takes in the sight of you, standing there with your heart on your sleeve. “I’ve been falling for you,” he admits, his voice trembling slightly. “Every time I found one of these notes, it felt like a piece of my heart was being filled. And now that I know it’s you…”

Your heart skips a beat, and you can hardly believe what you’re hearing. “You… you feel the same way?” you ask, your voice filled with both hope and disbelief.

Milo’s response is a soft, shy smile, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes, something that wasn’t there before. “I do,” he says softly, taking another step closer until he’s standing right in front of you. “I’ve been hoping it was you, and now that I know… I don’t think I can imagine my life without you.”

His words leave you breathless, and before you can even think, your hand reaches out, brushing against his. Milo’s fingers curl around yours, warm and reassuring, and for a moment, you both stand there, caught in the magic of the moment.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Milo leans in, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When he finds none, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most tender kiss you’ve ever experienced. It’s hesitant at first, as if he’s savoring the moment, but then it deepens, and you feel all the unspoken words, all the hidden emotions, pour into that kiss.

Your arms find their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Milo responds in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you as if he never wants to let go. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, locked in a moment of pure, unadulterated love.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you take in what just happened. Milo’s eyes are filled with a mix of wonder and joy, and he gives you a soft, affectionate smile.

“I’m so glad it was you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made me feel more loved than I ever thought possible.”

Tears of happiness prick at your eyes, and you smile back at him, your heart overflowing with love. “I’ve loved you for so long,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “I just never knew how to tell you.”

Milo gently tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything else,” he murmurs. “I know. And I feel the same way.”

With that, he leans in for another kiss, this one more confident, more sure, as if he’s finally found the missing piece of his heart. And as you kiss him back, you know that this is just the beginning of something beautiful—something you’ve both been waiting for, whether you realized it or not.

[flying-nightwing]

Gentle - Jason Todd

Hi people! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted anything, honestly it’s been a hectic two months and I barely made it out alive lmao. But Jason was never too far away in my mind, don’t worry kids. So this is something I’ve been wanting to write for some moments now, and I came through, well, right about now. 

I haven’t really written something axed on the emotions/feelings like that, once again I’m trying to expand my style to new stuff. This is my first hurt/comfort that was actively trying to be that, and yet another take on Jason because I’m a simp. This is also very, very soft. I hope you’ll enjoy xx

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 1731

Warnings: mention of blood, Jason being heartbreakingly insecure and vulnerable, allusion to the effects of his trauma.

Summary: Being with Jason Todd often comes with its own load of complicated hardships, but you would never let him go through it alone ever again. 

You barely heard him come back.

You had a sharp ear and a light sleep, which means you always knew the moment Jason came back from patrol. Usually it would be followed by the sound of the shower and him joining you in bed, but sometimes it would not. And those times were usually when things had gone bad. 

Quietly, you got up from the bed and navigated the apartment in the dark. By now, your feet knew the way without needing the guidance of your eyes. Only the light from the stovetop was turned on, casting a weak glow on the common area. You could dicernate Jason’s still body on the couch, still in full red hood gear with the exception of his helmet. He knew you were there, of course he did, but he didn’t look at you. He couldn’t, you figured. Hard nights did that to him.

With a pinch in your heart, you went and knelt in front of him, just not touching him yet. His eyes were open and glossy, staring into nothing. The instances where you found him like this had become rarer in the last years, but they still happened. You were just glad he wasn’t pushing you away anymore. He once told you to just stay asleep and not bother with him, but you could never. Secretly, he was grateful for it. He would never tell you how much, though, because he didn’t want to make you feel like it was something you had to do for him.

“Hi babe” You spoke in a whisper, making you slide his eyes to you. You could see the hurt in them, reflected in the blue of his irises and the red of fatigue and frustration around them. His beautiful expressive eyes that could hold so much love could also hold so much pain at times. It wasn’t fair. “It’s okay. You’re okay now”

You didn’t expect an answer. He had a tendency of getting non-verbal in these situations.

“May I?”

You raised your hand lightly, and he gave you a little nod. Slowly, you enveloped his gloved hands in yours with one hand, while you pushed back a wild streak of hair out of his face with the other. You kept your touch light, knowing he would be already over sensitive as it was. He closed his eyes, enjoying the much needed comfort you provided him. You could feel the almost dried blood on his hands, the tensions in his jaw, the hurt coming off of him in waves. Not physical hurt, you were pretty sure he was unscathed beside the few bruises or cuts here and there. 

“Can I help you with it?”

He breathed out unevenly. The question really meant let me help you, it was a plea for you to help him feel better. Only a little while ago he had actually allowed you to take care of him at his most vulnerable moments. Still, he nodded again. You pulled yourself on your feet and gently helped him to sit up on the couch. Without rushing him, you then helped him stand up beside you and lead him to the bathroom. You kept the light dim so as not to hurt his eyes and guided him in front of the sink. In a slightly better light, you could see how tired and battered he looked. It must have been one of his worst nights ever since you had known him.

You began undoing his gloves first, taking off the blood and dirt soaked material from his hands, then pulled off his leather jacket that you threw in his Red Hood hamper. You could deal with it tomorrow. You turned on the tap to warm water and gently guided his hands under it. You softly rubbed the red and brown colors from his skin, letting the grime disappear down the drain. You made sure to wash it all; between his fingers and under his nails so he wouldn’t have to look at it at all when you’d turn off the tap. 

You carefully dried his hands with a towel before you moved to his shirt. You began pulling it off and he helped you pass it through his arms when it was too high for you, and the piece of his suit joined the rest in the hamper. Blood had seeped through the fabric, mixing with the sweat to taint his chest light red. You moved him to the toilet, where you softly pushed him down on the closed lid. You then damped a washcloth and came back to him. His eyes met yours as you gently washed away the remnant of a gruesome and violent night on his face. His glance meant everything, it was a little stitch on the wound to see your action seemed to help him feel better. 

You moved to his neck and chest, kneeling in front of him once again. You repeated your actions there, your hand still careful and steady. He closed his eyes and sighed, and you felt his muscles untense just a little bit. You observed his scars as you went, still wondering after all this time how he was so strong. It amazed you how he could pull through every curveball life threw at him, and how he could still remain the good man he was today despite all of it. As you washed down his arm, you picked his hand and left a little butterfly kiss on his wrist that made his breath hitch. Then you trailed up the inside of his arm with your lips until you stopped mid bicep. You met his bright eyes and slowly reached for his cheek. 

“How can you even look at me?”

You tilted your head at his quiet words, a saddened smile on your face. “How could I not?” You spoke back in a whisper. “You think your scars are ugly, but you’re so wrong. They write your story in a language very few understand, like a holy text kept in a secret temple meant to be worshipped. You’re strong and passionate, rash and beautiful. And never, remember that, never will I look at you with anything else than the adoration you deserve” 

The light of the bathroom reflected the tears pooling in his eyes like crystals as you rubbed your thumb on his cheek. He leaned into your hand, and his long eyelashes brushed against your finger when he closed his eyelids. He didn’t need to say anything more, you understood what he was trying to communicate. It was why he loved you so much, why he let himself be vulnerable around you. You were patient and kind, always there to help him up. You weren’t blind to his flaws but you accepted him as he was, not as everybody wanted him to be. You understood, which was more than he could say about most people in his life.

And when you looked at him like that, like he was your entire world and universe, he couldn’t help but feel safe. He didn’t have to run, fight, or survive. It was like he could breathe now, like he could finally live. And it scared him, it scared him so much because he felt like he had never truly left that coffin six feet under ground, until you began digging out the dirt to reach him. He was lost in the best kind of way, trying to figure out what to do with the sunrays that finally warmed his entire body after being subject to the coldness of the grave for so long. He was helpless to you, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it to end. 

You stood up and grabbed a new washcloth, warming it under the tap and returning to Jason. You passed over his face again, then his neck and his chest to wash away the remnant of diluted blood on his skin. You placed a light kiss on his shoulder before you helped him up again, then helped him out of his tactical pants. You grabbed your washcloth again, but he gently stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

“Go back to sleep, my love” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I got it from here”

You stared into his eyes, trying to find a clue that he was trying to hide away. But he was way calmer now, his eyes did not hold as much hurt as when you had found him on the couch. His glance was tired and exhausted, yet soft and loving. “Only if you’re sure” 

He nodded, blinking slowly. In any other circumstances, it wouldn’t have convinced you that he didn’t need your help. But for now, it was enough. Just the fact that he had it in him to speak was the indicator you needed. You retreated to the joined bedroom and slipped under the covers that had almost gone cold in the little time you were out of them and rested your head on the pillow. Your eyes softly closed, not yet completely succumbing into sleep yet. The soft noise in the bathroom played in the background like a muffled speaker, keeping you conscious just enough to check on him from afar. After a moment, the door opened and the light shut off, followed by quiet footsteps coming your way. The covers lifted and the bed dropped, then you opened your arms for Jason to crawl into them. His skin was still a bit cold from the hand wash, but the warmth of your embrace made him sigh against you. You caressed his hair as you fought not to fall asleep just yet, but your movements became slower and slower. The world around you started to fade at the first birds began to sing outside your window, their songs gradually lulling you to sleep.

Just as you were on the edge of consciousness, you hear the faintest whisper reach your ears. Two simple words that yet meant the world, especially coming from Jason. Admitting he needed help was something big for him, and even more expressing gratefulness at something he thought he didn’t deserve. That little spoken note guided you to a peaceful sleep with your lover safe and sound in your arms, or at least for tonight. Two simple words that didn’t need to be explained.

“Thank you” 

[characterclasses]

Classing Avatar: The Last Airbender

Long ago, all four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Roll for initiative! 

Avatar: TLA is a world populated with rich, developed characters. So much so, in fact, that I’ve actually decided to class ten characters from the series. So flameo hotman, this is going to be a long one!

1. Aang

Let’s start with an easy one. Aang is so obviously a Way of the Four Elements Monk that it hurts. The kid grew up in a monastery, calls himself a monk numerous times, and the whole plot of the show revolves around him learning how to master the four elements. In fact, given how ubiquitous bending is in the show, it’s amazing that more characters aren’t monks as well. 

2. Sokka

Well, not Sokka, the meat-and-sarcasm guy. Sokka may not be a bender, but that’s never stopped him from stepping up and trying his best to protect what he loves, whether that be by defending his village from a Fire Nation raid with just a boomerang, or leading entire armies into battles that he strategized. Sokka might look like the token normal guy, but he’s a versatile and powerful warrior, which is why I’ve classed him as a fighter. Sokka isn’t just brawn though, he’s brains too. The guy is very intelligent (though somewhat low in wisdom, at least at first), and thirsts for new knowledge and scientific discoveries. Sokka is a Battle Master, someone who is learned not just in ancient battle arts, but academic fields as well, sometimes even obtaining artisan knowledge. Seems pretty fitting for the guy who helped invent the hot air balloon, no?

3. Katara

Katara may be a bender, but she’s not exactly a monk. Katara is a pretty spiritual person, especially after directly coming into contact with Tui and La (and Yue) in the first season. She’s also a powerful and dangerous combatant to go up against. This, along with the fact that she’s the healer of the Gaang, is why I classed Katara a cleric. Her mastery over waterbending makes her a Tempest cleric, as she reveres spirits of the sea and sky. Katara, even more than characters like Aang or Azula, is able to best embody the ferocity of a storm.

4. Azula

Speaking of Azula, this tragic, fourteen-year-old sociopath is an interesting character to class. Azula has power, and a lot of it. As a firebending prodigy, Azula’s devastating power comes naturally to her, which is why she can be best classed as a sorcerer. Her royal Fire Nation lineage makes Azula a shoo-in for the Draconic Bloodline background, too, which adds an extra layer of irony to the whole thing when you consider exactly what it was that her family did to the dragons, who they perceived as threats to their bending supremacy.   

5. Zuko

Of course, Azula isn’t the only heir to the Fire Nation, which is where her older brother Zuko comes in. Zuko is the perfect example of a redemption arc done right, so it’s no surprise that his character needs a bit more of a complicated classing to match his nuanced characterization. Like his sister, Zuko started out as a Draconic Bloodline sorcerer (in fact, it’s heavily implied that he wouldn’t have lived if he hadn't been one). But Zuko doesn’t have the innate raw power that Azula does, and to his father’s great disappointment, didn’t seem to level up nearly as quickly. After his exile, Zuko found himself with both the time and the necessity to hone his other great skill - his swords. It was at this point that Zuko began multiclassing into a rogue, specifically a Swashbuckler. This usually bombastic class may seem like an odd choice for the awkward, angry prince, but Zuko’s talents with his twin swords and his flair for the dramatic (think of the Blue Spirit persona!) actually makes Swashbuckler a pretty good fit. After his defeat at the North Pole necessitated going into hiding, Zuko began relying less and less on his firebending and more on his rogue skills to get by. It isn’t really until the middle of the third season, when he and Aang meet and learn from the dragons, that Zuko finally starts taking levels in sorcerer once again, and he grows into a bender who is more than capable of matching up with his sister. 

6. Mai

It’s no surprise that taciturn, deadly Mai is also a rogue, though not the kind that you might think. Mai is not, contrary to Azula’s beliefs, the perfect Assassin. Mai might be great with her throwing knives, but she also excels in blending quietly into the background, gaining all the information she needs until it’s time to strike, whether that be with her blades or with a well-placed word. She’s also not above seeing which way the wind is blowing and switching sides to protect herself and the people she cares about. Mai is a Mastermind to be sure, and while she’s a great ally to have, this makes her an even more formidable enemy to face. 

7. Ty Lee

Ty Lee however, is surprisingly not a rogue. This bubbly, acrobatic Fire Nation girl is a sneaky, underestimated fighter, but she’s also a childhood friend of a princess that an away to join a circus, of all things. Ty Lee’s style of combat is rooted in performance, and her performance is her combat, which is why I’ve classed her as a College of Swords Bard. College of Swords works well for Ty Lee precisely because she isn’t a bender and doesn’t use magic to achieve her results. Despite not actually using swords, Ty Lee certainly meets the criteria in terms of being a born entertainer who achieves her results both on stage and in the battlefield through daring feats of prowess and skill. 

8. Suki 

Ty Lee may have ended the series as a Kyoshi Warrior, but Suki was born one, and it shows. Everything Suki does is to protect her people and uphold the ideals of Avatar Kyoshi. This devotion to Kyoshi, both the island and the historical, near-mythic figure, makes Suki an excellent paladin. With her Oath of Devotion, Suki is determined to uphold the ideals of law, justice, and order that the history and culture of her people represent, and spirits help anyone who stands in her way. 

9. Toph

So Toph is a tough character to class, which I’m sure is something that would delight her to no end. At the end of the day though, Toph’s gleeful chaotic nature and unconventional bending make her a very unusual warlock. Like all benders, Toph’s power may be innate, but the Blind Bandit took a very unusual route to hone her skills. Toph learned bending directly from the badgermoles, the first earthbender in millennia to do so. The badgermoles gifted Toph not just with bending mastery, but with a form of “sight” with which she could independently navigate the world around her, and in this way act as her patrons. As creatures of legend that hold secrets long forgotten by mankind, the badgermoles act as a sort of benevolent Archfey equivalent, making Toph a very powerful warlock indeed.   

10. Iroh 

If Aang and his friends are the prototypical young protagonists out to save the world, then Iroh is the beloved archetype of the war-weary old adventurer who still has some tricks up his sleeves. Like Aang, Iroh is a monk, albeit a very different kind. While Iroh has a ton of raw power, he prefers to be subtle, letting enemies and allies alike underestimate him until it’s time to act. Even when he does strike, his foes don’t quite seem to grasp the full implication of what’s happening. Carefully choosing his actions like movements on a Pai Sho board, Iroh is a true White Lotus, a perfect example of The Way of the Drunken Master. He uses his facade of a tea-obsessed, doddering old man to feign incompetence and play the part of the fool in order to achieve his true goals, whether that be directing his young nephew towards the right path in life, or secretly working to bring balance back to the world. 

[lynash86]

Excerpt from a story in progress I’ve been writing. If you’re interested click the link below to read more.

Kara stepped closer to Lena’s side with the first aid kit, pulling out a small thin piece of rolled up gauze. Lena let go of the towel she had on her side letting it drop into Kara’s free hand. She leaned back a little on the counter as Kara began wrapping a thin layer of gauze around her midsection preventing some of the larger gashes from dripping blood. It wasn’t until then that Lena noticed the tears that had trailed down her face. The shock of it made her heart lurch into her stomach. She was about to say something when Kara finally spoke.

“I was never angry with you. I was angry at myself.” Kara’s hand wavered a bit as she moved the gauze around again.

“Kara.” Lena started but didn’t know how to finish.

“I felt powerless. I saw you, blood stained and injured and I panicked. I failed, I couldn’t protect you. You got hurt and that was my fault.” Kara breathed out shakily, trying to reign in the few tears that had a mind of their own. Lena rolled her eyes, of course the same pattern would continue to play out. Always the protector.

“I’ve been through worse. You’ve saved me from the brink of death countless times. I sprain my ankle and get a few, albeit large, splinters and you feel this way? Forgive me if I’m being slow, but I’m failing to understand.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m being ridiculous.” Kara said curtly. She tucked the end of the gauze into itself a little abrasively causing Lena to recoil slightly. She stepped back leaning heavily on the opposite counter as she swiped angrily at a tear that rolled down her face.

“Don’t be dismissive.” Lena put her arms through the blouse carefully and began buttoning it up.

“What do you want me to say?” Kara asked dispirited. “We are just getting back to a good place, I don’t know if you fully trust me yet and at the first opportunity I blow it. I failed at the one thing I promised myself I would never let happen again.”

“And what’s that?” Lena asked, unable to hide the bite in her words.

“That I would never hurt you again.” Kara’s voice broke before she could contain it. She pushed herself up to stand straighter but a tear rolled defiantly down her cheek destroying the strength she had left to hold her chin up.

“I don't always need your protection!” The anger that poured into the words surprised even herself.

Andrea began to stir on the couch. Lena slinked off the counter, careful not to stand on her sprained ankle and turned toward Andrea. She looked back at Kara, her own voice about to break with emotion as she tried desperately to convey the sorrow she felt.

“You’re right, I don’t fully trust you yet,” the hurt in Kara’s eyes made Lena almost regret saying it, but she continued anyway. “You’ve only just begun to open up to me about a part of your world you had hidden away from me for years.” She paused a moment as she buried the pain that still causes her. “If you have room to improve Kara try not being so overprotective." Kara pinched the bridge of her nose trying to secretly wipe a tear away but Lena saw through it. She felt the anger dissolve into sorrow. “Sorry I shouldn’t have lashed out.”

“I wasn’t the friend you needed me to be.” Kara blinked away the tears as she felt the weight of the words.

“Then... I guess, we know where to start rebuilding.” Lena’s eyes softened as she looked back at Kara.

Kara nodded in agreement. “Yeah I guess we do.” Kara closed the gap between them and lent Lena her shoulder to lean on as they walked over toward the den and Andrea.

“I’m sorry.” Kara said softly her eyes locking on to Lena’s as she tried to convey what words couldn’t. She held out her hand for Lena to hold onto once they were away from the counter and Lena accepted it squeezing gently.

A weight lifted off Kara’s chest she didn’t realize she had been carrying around. They were getting better at being able to be honest with one another. The past couple of days felt more like faking it than anything else.

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422164"><strong>Candle in the Shadows</strong></a> (14599 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynash86"><strong>Lynash86</strong></a><br />Chapters: 5/?<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Supergirl%20(TV%202015)">Supergirl (TV 2015)</a><br />Rating: Teen And Up Audiences<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor/Supergirl<br />Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers, Samantha "Sam" Arias, Kelly Olsen (Supergirl TV 2015)<br />Additional Tags: SuperCorp<br />Summary: <p>Kara and Lena try to navigate a new path in their relationship while they work together to take down Lex. As events unfold another threat starts lurking in the shadows that will test the strength of the bond they are reforging. (Takes place immediately following season 5 finale)</p>

[talesmaniac89]

Choices - Sam - Back Door

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader.. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: Swearing, heartbreak, worry

Choice:  [You chose to sneak in through the back door]

Y/N = Your Name | Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour | Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

---

“I’ll go around the back. With all the windows in this place I think I have the best chance of sneaking around unnoticed,” You finally spoke up when the silence had stretched on for long enough. Knowing full well that Sam wouldn’t make the choice for you as he squared his jaw stubbornly, worry painting his eyes a darker shade. 

Giving the overprotective hunter in front of you a tired sigh, you checked and rechecked the weapon in your hand and patted across the backup weapons on your body. Like you always did when the nervous energy coursed through your veins before a hunt. Rolling your shoulders, you pushed the air out of your lungs through pursed lips. Steeling yourself for the fight.

Time for a witch hunt. 

“(Y/N)...” Sam’s voice was only a low whisper next to you. But in his whispered version of your name you could glean all his reasoning. Every excuse he’d cooked up for you to sit the fight out, every half-baked plan leaving one door unchecked. And you wouldn’t hear them. Not when sitting out could end up with him hurt somewhere in that massive mansion. You’d promised yourself you would never abandon Sam Winchester. Even if he set those damned worried puppy dog eyes in you.

Even if you could never make yourself tell Sam how you felt about him. Letting him carry your heart safety pinned to his sleeve instead. You’d also never leave him. And that included leaving him to go fight the battles on your behalf. If he was a fortress, hiding a small, scared boy, then you would be damned sure to be his sentinel. Standing guard outside and ensuring that his walls weren’t torn down by the cold and unfeeling world you were forced to live in. 

“No Sam. We need all hands on deck. I’ll… See you in there, ok?” You sighed, giving the big guy a small smile to soften the words and the harsh way they’d left you. None of which was aimed at him. With your gun in your hand and your shoulders tense, you were already ready to fight, and that unreleased ball of tense energy had tainted your words as well. 

“Alright, just… Promise me you’ll stay safe?”

“Always Sam. I’m not going anywhere,” You were already moving when Sam spoke up, so you threw the words over your shoulder along with a bright, confident smile as you quickly backpedalled towards the Impala to follow the tree line around to the back. Staying out of sight from the house would be your best bet. 

Crouching low, you kept your weapon at your side as you ran for the trees. Even though your pace was slow, your pulse was racing. The beat of it heavy in your throat and loud in your head from the heat pouring through your t-shirt into your back. Your body was reacting to Sam’s eyes as they burned into you. The worry radiating out from them and caressing your back like feathery soft prayers for your safety as you kept your eyes on the woods in front of you. 

You had to keep moving forward, keep your eyes on the forest. If you turned around to catch those warm worried eyes, you’d just end up running towards him again. Back to where he was standing, sunshine eyes clouded in the uncountable what ifs that wouldn’t leave him until he was sure that Dean and you were safe. That you hadn’t left him in that achingly permanent way that every new hunt and every new monster tried to force you into.  

No, you had to keep your eyes on the green in front of you, not the hazel behind you. If not you’d be back by his side in a heartbeat. To have his back, as you should be, instead of running away from him. To be by his side, like your heart was.

Clenching your jaw, you broke into a quiet jog. The faster you got in the house, the sooner you’d be back to his side. 

--- 

Walking around the house took longer than you wanted it to. 

The farmhouse itself was large, sure, but more than just that, the grounds were fucking hellishly huge. They could have built the house three times larger and still not kissed the edge of the tree line. Which of course had made it much harder to sneak up towards the backdoor on a house that was at least 30% glass. 

The slightest wrong move could see you spotted by the witches and your whole plan ruined. So, you’d had to carefully move even further back than planned before following one of the few windowless walls back to the door you were meant to go in. 

As you pushed the heavy wooden door open, your shoulders stayed tense and your breath locked in your chest. The boys had to be inside already. But you’d heard no sounds or signs of a fight as you stealthily kept sneaking up on the house. And the inside was just as deathly quiet as the grounds had been. So, clearly your cover was still secure as you stepped into the beautiful kitchen. 

It was a stunning room; big and bright. Bigger even than your industrial sized kitchen in the bunker, which had all three of you (albeit secretly and all pretending you didn’t see the others) bouncing in hyperactive glee. Either at the thought of homemade burgers, Dean, something other than diner food for once, Sam, or the promise of home baked goodies, you. And it was also definitely a hell of a lot prettier than the steel on… Well, more steel, set-up in the bunker. 

The former owners had made the room bright and easy to navigate across, with barely any splashes of colour. Just a hint of bright pastels breaking up the whole room, and, from what you could see, the adjoining dining room. Clearly one of the former residents had been a fan of white. The room was the colour of fresh snow as far as the eye could see. 

 Called it; hell to clean.

You smirked to yourself at the thought as you scanned the room, keeping low behind the white kitchen island before walking softly towards the first door you spotted. It seemed to lead deeper into the mansion, so it was your best bet at finding Sam and Dean. 

Even just the thought of the Winchester brothers somewhere in the big mansion had your hand twitching around the grip of the gun. Your body wanted to run and find them, to find Sam, as soon as possible. But you knew you had a job to do. And you were a damned good hunter. You had to move slow, cover your bases. Witches were tricky; you needed military precision. Not the heavy pulsing steps and loud actions of beating love-sick hearts. 

No, for now you’d just have to remind yourself that you’d already slipped him your heart a long time ago. For situations just like this one, when you couldn’t be by his side. Safety-pinned precariously to his sleeve, just out of sight from the hunter’s bright, attentive eyes.

Stopping by the door you held your breath. Listening through the wood for any sounds. The house was quiet. But it did little to quell your worry and fear for Sam’s safety, for both the Winchester’s. Sure, you knew they could take care of themselves, but that didn’t stop you from worrying, from wanting them to be happy and safe, even when outside of the four walls of the secure bunker.

Dean was your best friend, you loved him like a big brother, and Sam was… Sam. The only man whose smile could wipe all the clouds from the sky and replace them with warm sunlight again. The strongest fragile and broken man you knew. 

You’d promised to make them a home, but Sam Winchester was your home. Though he still found himself searching for one. Unaware that both Dean and you felt the most comfortable, the most at home, wherever he was.

Shaking free from your worried thoughts you took a quiet breath, shifting your hold on your gun just enough to open the door a crack before placing your hand back on the weapon. Letting the heavy feel of it ground you as you steadied it with both hands you looked out into the hallway. Barely giving it a cursory glance before letting the steel toe of your heavy boots open the door the rest of the way.

Empty. 

Pushing out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding; you kept your gun aimed steadily in front of you. Your finger resting on the trigger guard as you took a careful step into the brightly lit hallway.

It had been a happy home, you noted. Pictures of the two hex bag recipients were smiling down at you from the walls, all the way down the long hallway. Happy and in love. Unaware of the monsters that were coming for them. Clenching your jaw, you quietly seethed as your knuckles whitened around the gun. 

Two innocent lives, cut brutally short just because two damned monsters wanted a free AirBnB for a little while. You’d kill those damned bastards. And, if you could find some way to make it happen, you’d even charge ‘em the clean-up fee from their new little not-so-cosy homes in hell.

Witches like these were why you stayed in the business. You needed to make the world better, brighter... Safer. Both for the many civilians, sleeping soundly in their beds and going on with their lives, unaware of what was hiding in the shadows, and for the Winchester brothers. For Sam. 

With Sam’s bright eyes as your driving force, you quietly walked down the hallway. Keeping both your ears and eyes sharp as you moved towards the first door. The damned house was just too big. It would take a small eternity to check every room. 

Sliding against the wall, you kept your back flush with the cream coloured wallpaper as your hand reached out to carefully open the first door. Barely feeling the wood move under your fingers before you pushed off the wall and spun to face the room. Gun lifted and ready to redecorate some wicked witch’s face.

Study… Empty.

Casting a quick glance around the room you groaned internally. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with large mahogany bookcases. Filled to the breaking point with books. You really hoped the spell books weren’t hiding somewhere in that mess. It would be hell to go through all of those later. Either way, your temp job as a supernatural librarian would have to wait till you ganked the witches. 

Turning, you stepped back into the hallway. Continuing down it with increasing worry from the silence pressing down on you. The boys still hadn’t found them? How big was this fucking house anyway? Speeding up as much as you could while still keeping quiet, you kept walking. Looking into each extravagantly furnished room as you got to it. 

All empty. 

You only stopped in your stealthily frantic search when you noticed the door coming up to your right. Unlike the many others, this one had been left slightly ajar. Not good. 

Holding your breath, you kept your gun aimed at the door as you slowly approached it, nudging it fully open with your foot. Your finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Only when another empty room came into view did you move your finger back to the trigger guard and breathe an annoyed sigh at the game of hide and seek this hunt was quickly turning into.

No Sabrina the not-so-teenage squatter there either. But… Bingo. This was clearly their little ‘workspace’. What had once been a small home office had gotten a bit of a grotesque makeover. 

Jars of things you didn’t want to look too closely at were spread out across the desk along with different shaped bowls and unidentifiable tools. They’d dragged a small side table into the middle of the room, the carpet pushed aside to litter the floor with intricate runes and warding symbols. And, there, right out in the open for the world to see... 

Spell books. 

They really shouldn’t have. Your gracious, unaware hosts had made it too easy for you. Grinning you shot a quick glance at the open door before carefully closing it until it was left just a bit ajar again. 

Listening for anything out of the ordinary, you dropped one hand from your gun and unceremoniously picked up the brittle, old books. Placing them into one of the larger, more sturdy stone bowls instead. 

The bottom of the chosen bowl was coated in something dry and red that you really hoped wasn’t human as you scrunched your nose at it and busied yourself with finding the lighter fluid in the breast pocket of your jacket. Since the books were so easy to find. You could just as well take care of them before continuing the hunt. 

Two birds, one very flammable bowl of brittle paper and lighter fluid.

Dousing the books in a generous dose of arson in a can, you fought the urge to hum a little campfire tune to yourself as you fished the zippo out of your pocket. Flicking it open and on without any issues before dropping the whole lighter in the bowl. A waste of a perfectly good lighter, maybe, but you needed to keep moving and fast.

Your need for action was solidified just as the first flames licked up the spines of the old tomes. The sight of searing flames accompanied by a loud explosion of sound. The single gunshot sounded louder in the previously deathly quiet house as it rang out from somewhere deeper in the labyrinthian hallways.

Shit.

Casting one last glance at the flames tearing the spell books apart, you turned on your heel and ran. The faces of the two men in your life tattooed across panicked (Y/E/C) eyes as you hurried down the hallway towards the sound. It was just one gunshot. They’d be fine. They’d probably taken out the witch without much of a fight. But until you could see that with your own eyes, the heavy nauseous feeling in your stomach just wouldn’t let up.

It wasn’t hard to find the source of the noise. 

The wide-open door, near the winding staircase leading into the second level, was a clear sign as you slid to a full stop just out of view of whatever was happening in the room. Keeping your gun raised, you stepped closer. Ready to pepper the whole room in bullets at even the slightest hint at something being wrong. You weren’t taking any chances as you kept your breath steady against the onslaught of early panic and stepped into view of the room. Tense shoulders relaxing as your eyes, and gun, met with green eyes and a similar weapon pointed in your direction.

Once your best friend came fully into view you lowered your revolver with a relieved sigh. The dead witch by Dean’s feet a testament to what had happened as green eyes brightened to give you a cocky grin. Clearly you looked as frazzled as you felt, if Dean’s raised eyebrow was anything to go by.

Rolling your eyes at the hunter in front of you, you kept your focus on the dead witch. The man looked to be in his mid 30s. Perfectly ordinary in every way. If you looked past the bullet lodged in his brain that was. 

If this was the male counterpart to the pair, that meant the woman was elsewhere in the house. Since your briefing had made it clear that the two of them imagined themselves to be somewhat of a wicked Bonnie and Clyde duo. Thinking their love alone was reason enough to turn the world on its head.

“One down, one to go,” 

After the gunshot had clearly signalled that you were there, you didn’t even bother keeping your voice low as you casually stepped over the body to give your friend a quick hug. The seconds always dragged on and felt like small pockets of eternity whenever you had to split up with the boys on a hunt. Knowing your best friend was safe was already enough to calm your nerves a bit. Though the fact that Sam hadn’t come running at the sound of the gunshot was… Disconcerting.

No. You couldn’t let yourself panic. Panicking led to mistakes. Sometimes deadly mistakes. You couldn’t let your mind stray from the hunt that way. Hopefully he was just busy keeping the other witch away from you. Or maybe keeping to the shadows to catch her off guard when she came running for you to avenge the lover boy by your feet. Dean had, after all, put a permanent end to their relationship status…

Maybe you should petition Facebook to add a relationship status option for ‘currently avenging my evil, dead lover’? Considering you’d ended more than one relationship the permanent way, you knew a few monsters that would appreciate the option. Ok… So, your mind was spiralling, and you were definitely panicking.

“Jigs up. The other one had to have heard that…”  

Dean brought you out of your rambling thoughts, his eyes on the door as he spoke. Though the words were clearly meant for you, as there was still no sign of big hazel eyes and comforting smiles in the empty doorway.

“Let’s find Sam and clean house,”

You kept the worst of your fears out of your voice and your eyes away from the worried ones of the older Winchester by rechecking the safety on your gun. You both knew that the silence following the explosively loud gunshot couldn’t be good. But neither of you would vocalize it. No, you just had to find Sam. Everything would be fine again when you were all together. Everything was always fine when the three of you were together.

“You take the upstairs; I’ll keep going down here and come join you,” Dean’s voice was hard as he stepped towards the door. Ready to head down the hallway that snaked under the stairs and missing your quick nod as you hurried after him. Maybe splitting up wasn’t the best tactical choice. But the house was just too damn big, and you had to find Sam. Fast.

Trying to still keep somewhat quiet to not alert the witch of your exact location, you ran for the stairs. Even taking the steps two at the time, the damned winding staircase was an endless nightmare to your panicking mind. You would have been up in half the time if the original owners hadn’t tried so fucking hard to be bourgeois. 

Once you finally reached the top, you had to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from screaming out loud in frustration. Of course, the upstairs section was just as big of a mess of hallways and rooms as downstairs. Hadn’t the damned homeowners ever heard about open plan concepts? 

No choice, start searching (Y/N).

Sam would be fine. He had Dean, he had you. The two of you would never leave him behind. Sam had to be fine.  

---

You’d barely started looking through the first few rooms, and one accidental peek into a linen closet the size of your bunker bedroom, when Sam’s voice echoed down the hallway from somewhere far ahead. The swear words followed by your name and Dean’s were unmistakable and sounded heartbreakingly terrified. 

Something was very wrong. 

Forcing your body into action, you threw yourself down the hallway. Your breath sticking in your throat as you kept your gun drawn and aimed ahead of you. He was still breathing; he could still speak. That was all that mattered. You could deal with anything else. Now you just had to get to him. 

You weren’t even keeping up the facade of being quiet anymore as you let your boots hit the hallway floor with heavy panicked steps. Grateful for the thick carpet that was still somehow swallowing up the sound from your desperate sprint towards the man you loved.

Sam was afraid. That was all the driving force you needed. Your always strong and steady hunter with the kindest heart of any man you knew was afraid.

As you slid to a halt in front of the door that Sam’s voice was bleeding through, sounding more and more agitated with every broken shout of your name, you took a shaky breath. Hell, you barely even bothered steadying yourself as you aimed your gun. Saying to hell with slow, steady and quiet, you kept your gun aimed at the wood as you lifted a booted foot and kicked in the door. 

---

The weapon in your hands easily found the witch as soon as the door swung open with a violent crack against the wall. Clearly she’d been in the middle of a spell. Your grand entrance however, had shook her concentration as she looked up at you with angry eyes and a twisted sneer. Facing down the lethal steel pointed right between her eyes as if it was nothing more than a harmless toy.

But the vicious hatred in steel blue eyes barely even registered with you. Not when Sam was right there. Standing next to her, yet not attacking her or even fighting back. He wasn’t even looking over at where you’d just kicked the damned door in. His body was completely still with only his head moving, hands fisted into tight balls at his side as he looked everywhere but directly at you. Brown hair whipping around his face in his frantic search. 

As you watched him, watched the heart-breaking loss in hazel eyes, the realisation hit you like a straight punch to your diaphragm right before his words could. Forcing the breath out of your lungs as a choked groan. Sam couldn’t see you. 

“(Y/N)? Dean? Where are you!?” Sam’s voice sounded small and broken. Just a shadow of its usual strength as his eyes went straight past you, not stopping to take you in. Just the whisper of a broken boy, lost in the nightmares of his shadows. Abandoned and alone.

“Sam?” You could hear the frantic panic in your own raised voice. You knew it wasn’t good to show the damned bitch she had the upper hand. But watching the man you loved stand terrified and alone in the middle of the room, not even noticing the witch next to him that could easily end his life, you just couldn’t make yourself give a damn about hunter 101s and protocols. Nothing fucking mattered if Sam was hurting. 

But no recognition warmed hazel eyes at your words. His head didn’t even turn in your direction. It wasn’t that Sam couldn’t see you. He couldn’t even hear you. Sam Winchester was trapped in his own head, and none of your repeated, increasingly louder shouts of his name could break through the darkness that surrounded him. 

Sam was lost. 

Whipping your head around and ignoring the way (Y/H/C) strands stuck to your damp cheeks from tears you hadn’t even realised you were crying, you channelled all your protective fury and worried rage through your eyes and directly into the monster who did this to him. Your grip around the revolver tightened as your finger rested against the trigger. A silent warning that you could blow her brains out between one breath and the next.

“What did you do to him bitch?!” You didn’t like the broken, high-pitched tint to your voice. You’d wanted to sound threatening, not panicked. But it was hard to breathe around the heartbreak and Sam’s constant broken attempts of finding you through the darkness. Your finger twitched against the trigger, nearly making the gun go off in your hands as you took a shaky breath to steady yourself. You wanted her to hurt. A bullet to the brain was too quick, too easy, for her. 

“He can’t see you or hear you. He can’t see anyone he cares about… Or me for that matter,” The blue-eyed witch in front of you were smirking. The sickening smile on painted red lips nauseating when paired with Sam’s broken voice ringing in your ears. She thought she’d won. She thought she'd beat the Winchesters. 

“Fix. It. Right fucking now,” You spoke through gritted teeth as you took another step into the room. Letting your fury keep you moving as your eyes burned into the witch. Her overconfident smirk faltered as she flinched and stepped back when hit with the uncontrolled rage that was rolling off of you in searing hot waves. 

Perfectly manicured, fidgeting hands busied themselves with smoothing down the satin of her simple, elegant dress, ala 1950s Audrey Hepburn. Black, simple and timeless, paired with matching heels. Trying to keep up an illusion that she still had some semblance of control. It was the kind of dress women wear when going to war against the world. But paired with her terrified big eyes, the dress looked ill-fitting and out of place. Like a child playing dress up in boots way too big for her.  

“No can do… Call it an insurance policy...” The witch took a while to find her voice again and the strength to push back from the avalanche that was your protective rage. But when she did her words did nothing except infuriate you more as she trailed off in a scared whimper. 

Casting a quick glance in Sam’s direction you felt the trigger under your finger. Letting your eyes soften for just a split second as you watched him before turning hard as steel again when they shifted to focus on the witch.

Sam was trapped. His world had gone dark, stopped existing even though he was standing right there. In the same room as you. Calling for you, calling for Dean. Yet not finding you. Even if you were right there. 

Sam Winchester was lost in his own worst nightmare. Where everyone he loved had finally abandoned him. Like he always thought they would. It was killing you, shattering the heart still pinned to the lost man’s sleeve. 

And it was all her fault.  

---

Make your choice below to move the story along:

What do you do?

[Run to Sam’s side] or [Kill the witch] 

---

Confused or New to Choices? Start Here Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where you pick your Winchester brother and go on a hunt for one of 8 different endings in total. Four for Sam and four for Dean (2 happy and 2 bad endings per brother). Go to the intro to start your story!

---

[artemisegeria]

A Day Out (Belated Scarlet Vision Fic Exchange 2020)

I finally finished my pinch hit for @spellsofscarlet for the 2020 Scarlet Vision Fic Exchange. At least it’s still June lol. Based on this prompt: “Maybe a fluffy Wanda and vision teaching each other things? Like Wanda was trapped in hydra from a young age, and he’s an Android, so maybe a cute lil fic of them discovering and finding things out together about the world they don’t really understand. Two idiots learning how to love each other when they haven’t had chance to express this emotion before. Idk whatever u wanted to do loosely around this idea would be awesome!!!”

I hope you enjoy. 

Summary: Natasha and Steve give Wanda and Vision a special mission in preparation for increased undercover work. Takes place shortly pre-Civil War. Rated G; no warnings apply.

After almost a year together, the new Avengers had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Long days of intense training were broken up by missions and movie nights. Tense, awkward introductions had become camaraderie. Lonely isolation had become warmth.

The core of Wanda’s grief was still untouched, but she found it easier to cope day to day than she had at the beginning. She was finally letting herself accept her new place in the world.

That’s why she was relaxed enough to be dozing off on Vision’s shoulder during one team bonding night. He gently nudged her awake. The credits were rolling, and the others were beginning to stretch and stand up when Steve cleared his throat. “Good night, everyone. Get some sleep; early run at five hundred sharp tomorrow.” There were grumbles all around, but they all nodded in agreement before heading to their rooms.

“Wanda, Vision, could you two stay back for a minute?” They both glanced at each other and back to Steve.

Natasha remained by Steve’s side. “We have a special little mission for you two.” Wanda felt Vision’s eagerness at this news, but Wanda watched Natasha’s slightly maniacal grin warily. “We’ve noticed you’re still a little uncomfortable when we go out in public. We have a few undercover missions coming up, and we want you to be prepared. So, your assignment is to go out together.”

Wanda eyed her skeptically. “That’s it?” There had to be more to it.

“Yep. Go into the city. Practice the subway. Go to the movies. Whatever you want. Just spend some time among civilians.” Natasha thought for a moment, then added, “Just no skulking around museums. Stay out among the people.” Though Vision’s posture and demeanor did not change, Wanda felt him droop.

His distress became even sharper upon further thought. She squeezed his hand instinctively. “Will my appearance be a problem?”

Steve replied, “It’s not a problem, but this would be a good opportunity to work on your disguise.” Wanda’s heart hurt that Vision had to hide himself away, but she still glowed with pride at the control he had gained over his powers. She had been the one to help him in the early days when he could not maintain the disguise for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Yes, undoubtedly. So far I have only practiced in the relatively controlled environment of the compound.”

When Steve and Natasha dismissed them, they headed toward the residential section. Wanda realized that she was still holding Vision’s hand. The thought did not bother her as much as she thought it might. He was quiet, not immediately launching into plans for their assigned outing or questions of what she would like to do.

Vision started to bid her good night at her door when she placed her hand on his arm. “After we finish this mission, we should try going out just as we are. We deserve to be ourselves. It’s everyone else’s problem if they can’t handle it.”

A tentative smile turned up his lips. “I would look forward to that, Wanda.”

“It’s a date, then. Good night, Vizh.”

“Sleep well, Wanda.”

***

Wanda and Vision landed in an alleyway at the edge of the city. They had decided they could enjoy themselves by flying to the city before donning their civilian appearance. Wanda was still fascinated at the ripple of pale skin forming over Vision’s body. The hair and a change of casual clothes were the finishing touches.

“Do you think my appearance is acceptable?”

She grinned at him. “More than acceptable. What about me?” She did a little twirl for him. She had borrowed one of Natasha’s wigs for this mission, a short black bob. She wasn’t too fond of it, but it did give her a different look, along with the light-colored clothing and makeup she had chosen.

Vision considered her with pursed lips. She didn’t think that he was about to insult her, but she grew unaccountably nervous at his pause. “You look lovely, as always.” He paused again, looking away from her as if afraid that he had said too much. Wanda squeezed his hand in a familiar comforting gesture. He returned his eyes to her. “But I wish you could go out in clothes you are comfortable in as well.”

“Next time, like we agreed.” He nodded, and she pulled him into the street. They walked hand in hand. She told herself it was only to stay together among the crowds, but a curious warmth traveled up her arm all the way to her heart. She did her best to ignore it.

Instead, she focused on their surroundings. Wanda had seldom been able to simply stroll along. She had hidden in the streets after her parents’ deaths, she had protested in the streets, but she had not been afforded the opportunity to wander in the streets aimlessly. Now, she watched the endlessly varieties of people swirl around them. She took in all the savory and less-than-savory scents. She absorbed Vision’s fascination with the city.

Vision had wanted to plan out every minute of their outing, but Wanda had convinced him to be a little more spontaneous. They had no schedule or destination. They could simply be.

Still, the thoughts of the crowd beat on Wanda relentlessly. Vision was not the only one who had been kept to a controlled environment.

Vision gripped her hand harder upon feeling her distress. “Wanda, we happen to be near Central Park. Shall we take a stroll in there?” She nodded. Vision took the lead, pulling her along with him. They walked toward an out-of-the-way bench. Wanda collapsed gratefully onto it.

After some moments of relaxation, Wanda noted that Vision looked very pleased with himself. She narrowed her eyes at him. “We weren’t really wandering with no destination in mind, were we?”

Vision smiled sheepishly at her. “Well, you were. But I must admit that I was leading us here.” She thought back to every casual turn and decision. In hindsight, it seemed that Vision had subtly suggested certain directions. She was beginning to doubt her telepathy because she had not seen it at all.

“Well done. Nat would be proud.”

He frowned slightly. She imagined he was judging whether she was being sarcastic. Wanda did not fully know herself. “I apologize for my subterfuge, but I thought it would be a prime opportunity to practice for undercover missions.” He truly did seem sorry, his head hanging low and his mind projecting remorse.

Wanda relented. “It’s okay. I like it here.”

“I am glad.” Vision relaxed, smiling more genuinely at her.

After some moments of pleasant silence, Wanda felt ready to go on. They could not stay here all day. “We might as well give up the pretense of our day being unplanned.”

“Agreed.”

“But since you chose first, it’s my turn to choose the next place.”

“Of course.”

She thought for a moment. There was one place part of her wanted to go, though she was not entirely sure she would enjoy it. “Let’s go to Madame Tussaud’s. I don’t think it counts as a museum.” Tapping his head, she grinned at him. “I assume you know how to get there.”

“I do.”

“Lead on.”

They both stood and walked toward the edge of the park. “Right this way.” He took her hand, leading them firmly into the crowd. Wanda grinned secretly. Vision was not the only one who could be sneaky. She enjoyed his growing confidence as he was encouraged to use his skills to guide them to the next destination.

When they reached their destination, Vision bought tickets. The place was crowded today. Wanda veiled her mind more carefully as they navigated their way through the masses. At least it was providing the practice Nat wanted. And a quieter voice in her head pointed out that it was an excuse to keep holding onto Vision.

The displays of life-size, wax figurines were filled with a number of celebrities she had never heard of. Vision added running commentary of what movies the actors had been in or where she might have seen the famous faces. Much to her amusement, he added on stories that he retained from J.AR.V.I.S. of encounters some of them had had with Tony Stark.

Finally, they reached the Avengers exhibit. The original six were all prominently displayed, but Thor, Steve, and Tony took pride of place. While Wanda no longer carried the burning rage or ice-cold vengeance toward Iron Man that she once had and they could be civil, she could not help the satisfied smirk that formed on her face when more people were trying to get pictures with Steve and Thor than with him. If Vision noticed, he did not comment.

They moved quickly through the rest of the displays and back out into the warm sunshine. Wanda was growing more used to the people all around her. She could breathe a little easier.

“Would you like something to eat?” Wanda had not thought about it, but her stomach grumbled at the question. She looked around her. There was a little cart on the sidewalk selling a variety of foods that one could take with them.

She walked toward the cart, pulling out a few bills from her pocket. “I’ll have a pretzel, please.” The owner handed her the item wrapped in paper and she paid him. Then, she and Vision continued on their way. Her teeth sank into the hot, doughy treat. She enjoyed the way the salt burned her tongue.

A glance at Vision showed him still taking in all the city had to offer. His eyes moved back and forth rapidly, trying to scan everything before them. She grinned at his attention. She tore off a piece of pretzel, waving it in front of him. When he looked down in confusion, she asked, “Want to try?”

He looked at it as if it might bite him for a moment before tentatively taking it from her hand. Vision sniffed at it suspiciously. Finally, he put the treat in his mouth and chewed slowly. When he said nothing and his face remained neutral, Wanda prompted him, “Well?”

“I suppose it is pleasant enough.”

“You can say you don’t like it if that’s the case.”

His expression opened up a bit. “Very well. I would not choose to eat this again.”

Wanda grinned. “Okay. More for me then!”

“I am happy to leave you to it.”

“What’s next? It’s your turn.”

“Since the day is nearing a close, I propose we make the next stop our last attraction.”

“Okay. But you didn’t answer my question.” She slipped her arm into his. Vision accepted the move with a hand covering hers.

He smiled shyly down at her. “I would like to maintain an element of surprise. If you do not mind, that is.”

“Sure. Keep your secrets.” She grinned at him. Her plan was working very well. Vision was certainly growing more comfortable with asserting his own wishes.

When they came to a stop, she could see what Vision wanted to do. There was a massive structure in front of them. It reminded her of Vision, all clean lines, gleaming metal, and a sense of mystery inside. It was a maze of staircases crossing over each other in an open tower that somewhat resembled an acorn.

Vision insisted on taking Wanda’s picture. Her hair kept blowing in her face, but as usual, his enthusiasm inspired her to smile. Then, they switched places. Finally, Wanda decided that they needed the true civilian tourist experience, so she asked a stranger to take a picture of them both. She wrapped an arm around Vision’s waist while he draped his over her shoulder.

Once they had taken their fill of pictures, they entered the structure to climb to the top. While they were going up the stairs, pausing to look around every once in a while, Vision narrated the history of the Vessel. There was a magnificent view of the city skyline. The sun shone down, lighting up all the metal and glass buildings.

Finally, they made their way back to the ground. They ended their day by taking the subway toward the edge of the city.

As much fun as the day had been, Wanda was relieved when they were able to take to the air. Being a civilian was highly overrated. With Vision and the Avengers, she could be herself without having to hide her powers or her appearance. Vision had also immediately removed his disguise when they were out of sight. She smiled at his textured red skin. She had missed his true self as well.

It was late evening when they arrived at the compound. Wanda’s stomach was growling again. None of the other Avengers were anywhere to be found. She had thought that Steve and Natasha, at least, would be waiting to interrogate her and Vision. Since that was not the case, she went to the refrigerator, seeing what had been for dinner that night.

A plate of grilled chicken, potatoes, and vegetables was reserved with her name on it. She put in the microwave to heat up. Vision was hanging around the edge of the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure, but you don’t have to make it if you’re tired.”

His lips tilted in a slightly mischievous smile. Wanda always enjoyed these hints of emotion that peeked out more and more. “As you know, I do not grow tired. I am happy to do this for you.”

She poked her tongue out at him. “I was trying to be nice. You don’t have to wait on me, you know.” She paused as his face fell. His mind sped up, and she realized he was trying to think of an excuse to hang around. “But I would like a cup if you want to.”

Vision relaxed. He removed the kettle from the cupboard and put it on the stove. Wanda leaned against the counter, taking slow bites of her dinner. Vision prepared her tea just the way she liked it. A warmth that was completely separate from the hot tea filled her at his care.

When she had finished her meal and they had both cleaned up for the evening, there was no good excuse to linger. It was a regular training day the next morning, so she should say good night and go to her room. But she didn’t want the day to end.

Wanda stopped Vision on his way to his room. “Do you want to plan our next outing?” She saw his protest coming and added, “I’m still way too caught up in the day to sleep right now.”

His concern immediately transformed into a slight smile. “That sounds like a valuable pursuit. I have obtained analog guidebooks. They are in my quarters if that is acceptable to you.”

Wanda grinned at him. “Lead on,” she said once more.

The Vessel: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g60763-d16875019-Reviews-The_Vessel-New_York_City_New_York.html

Madame Tussaud’s: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g60763-d209439-Reviews-Madame_Tussauds_New_York-New_York_City_New_York.html

[latter-day-saint-nick]

Here‘s a list of all the books with queer protagonists I’ve read this year. While I do actively seek those out, there are several books on here that I didn’t know had queer themes when I picked them up from the library and then I was pleasantly surprised by lesbians. I‘ll avoid spoilers except when discussing trigger warnings.

 Kaleidoscope Song by Fox Benwell

Neo, a South African teenager, is obsessed with music of any kind. Her love of music brings her together with the singer of a local band and they have a passionate relationship that they must keep secret. The descriptions of Neo‘s life and her tendency to hear music in everything are beautiful and dynamic. The author included a list of the songs Neo is listening to throughout the book, so I was introduced to a lot of cool music from South Africa and other places. TW: Corrective rape and Bury Your Gays. This is a book by a queer (albeit white British, rather than black South African) author writing about a very real problem that exists within our communities, so it feels different to when a cishet author kills off a queer character just for shock value. I still can‘t help feeling that he could have made the same point without having the character die – just have her be injured. Still, I loved pretty much everything else about the book, so it gets a tentative recommendation from me.

The Mermaid’s Daughter by Ann Claycomb

25-year-old opera student Kathleen tries to cope with the constant pain in her feet, nightmares about having her tongue cut out, and desperate yearning for the sea. With the help of her girlfriend Harry she delves into her family history to uncover the secret of a curse spanning generations of women. What’s nice about this book is that Kathleen and Harry’s relationship is accepted by all their family and friends without question, so if you want to read a nice wlw fantasy story with no homophobia, this one’s for you. TW: Some discussion of suicide, but nothing too graphic.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth

A teenage lesbian is sent to conversion therapy by her religious aunt. This is basically a coming-of-age story as the title character comes to terms with her identity and the death of her parents. It’s considered an important work of LGBT YA literature, so I really wanted to like it more than I did. Most of the first half of the novel deals with Cameron’s everyday life in her small town in Montana, which was, to be honest, rather boring to me. The pace of the story picks up a bit once she gets sent to conversion therapy, but even then it’s slower and less eventful than I would have liked. But since it is a popular book, that’s probably just me. I did like that the two best friends she makes at the therapy camp are a disabled girl and an indigenous boy, two types of people that are not often represented in queer fiction, so that’s something. TW: Conversion therapy and self-harm.

Proud by Juno Dawson

This is a collection of poems and stories about queerness aimed at a YA audience, and each one is a pure delight! These stories detail moments of joy and pride that make you feel happy and hopeful about being queer. They include a high school retelling of Pride and Prejudice with lesbians, a nonbinary kid and his D&D group on a quest to disrupt the gender binary at their school, a magical phoenix leading a Chinese girl to find love, and gay penguins. All stories, poems and illustrations are by queer writers and artists. Seriously, I cannot recommend this collection enough!

Spellbook of the Lost and Found by Moïra Fowley-Doyle

An Irish magical realist story about three girls who perform a spell to find things that they have lost. The spell appears to have wider consequences than they expected, bringing to light things that should have stayed lost. This book has three narrators, two of whom are wlw. It treads a nice line between fantasy and reality, and has some pretty good plot twists. Also, there’s a crossword at the end, which is awesome. More books should come with crosswords.

Ancillary Justice, Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy by Ann Leckie

A space opera trilogy set in the distant future about the embodiment of a ship’s AI who seeks revenge against the ruler of a colonialist empire who destroyed her ship and killed her beloved captain. This is not beginner’s sci-fi, as it is very complex and intricate, but if you’re fine with a bit of a heavier read, you’ll be rewarded with some very interesting concepts. What makes this series queer is that the Raadch empire has no concept of gender and uses female pronouns for everyone. This makes every romantic relationship queer by default, whether we are aware of the characters’ sexes or not. I found it particularly enjoyable when Breq, the protagonist, tried to communicate in different languages that have gendered pronouns, which she had to navigate carefully in order not to offend people. She tries to look for outward clues of gender, such as hairstyles, chest size, facial hair or Adam’s apples, but even then often gets it wrong, because these things are not always consistent. That is just a great depiction of how arbitrary ideas of binary sexual characteristics tend to be. Also, I guess technically Breq is aroace, but since she’s not human, I’m not sure if she can be considered the best representation, though she is a very likeable character that I enjoyed following.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue and The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

These books are a lot of fun! They’re historical adventure stories with a bit of fantasy thrown in, featuring disaster bisexual Henry Montague, his snarky aroace sister Felicity and his best friend Percy whom he is secretly in love with. In the first book, the three teenagers are sent on a tour of Europe for various reasons, but they quickly abandon the planned route when they get embroiled in a plot involving theft and alchemy. The second book details Felicity’s further attempts to become a doctor, which leads her to reunite with an old friend and chase a tale of fantastical creatures.

The Spy with the Red Balloon by Katherine Locke

Technically I read this one late last year, but whatever. I just wanted to put it on the list to have an excuse to talk about it. It’s about two Jewish siblings with magic powers who are recruited during World War II to take part in a secret project to fight the Nazis. Both siblings turn out to be queer: the brother is gay and demisexual, while the sister is bisexual, and they each have a love interest. This book is an independent prequel to The Girl with the Red Balloon, which takes place in East Berlin during the time of the Wall, and is just as good, albeit not as gay.

We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia

This book tends to be classified as fantasy, because it takes place in an alternate, Latin-American-inspired world, with a distinct history, culture and religion, but there’s no magic at all, so I’m not sure it counts. But I digress. The country of Medio is built on classism and acute xenophobia. But by hiding her status as an illegal immigrant, Daniela, a girl from a poor background, manages to rise to the top of her class at her elite finishing school and become the first wife of one of the most powerful young men in the country. But her new comfortable status is threatened when she is pressured to join a group of rebels who fight for equality. At the same time, she also finds herself falling for her husband’s second wife. Obviously, this book’s political message is very topical, but beyond that, it’s just a very good story, with a well fleshed-out fictional world and great characters. This is the first in a series, with the sequel, We Unleash the Merciless Storm, coming out in February.

All Out: The No Longer Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages by Saundra Mitchell

A very nice collection of short stories about various queer teenagers in different historical settings, from a medieval monastery to an American suburb on New Year’s Eve in 1999. Most of the stories are realist, but there are a few ghosts and witches to be found in-between. What I found particularly notable about this book is that it featured several asexual characters, which you don’t often see in collections like this. I definitely recommend it.

Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta

This is a thoughtful, heart-warming life story about a woman growing up during the civil war in Nigeria. After Ijeoma, a Christian Igbo girl, is sent away from home, she finds her first love in Amina, a Muslim Hausa. Even after they are found out and separated, Ijeoma doesn’t quite understand what’s so shameful about their love. Still, as she grows older, she attempts to fit into a heteronormative society while also connecting with the things and people that make her happy. TW: Homophobic violence, including an attack on a gay nightclub. The novel makes up for this by having a remarkably happy ending.

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley

A young man in Victorian London finds a mysterious watch on his pillow, with no idea how it got there. This sets into motion a strange series of events, which leads him to a lonely Japanese watchmaker, to whom he finds himself increasingly drawn. This is an unusual novel that treads the line between historical fiction, fantasy and sci-fi. Most of the characters are morally grey and have complex motivations, but are still likable. I just really enjoy stories that take place in this time period, particularly when they are this thoughtfully written and don’t just take the prejudices of the past for granted.

If I Was Your Girl by Meredith Russo

A YA book about a transgender teenager, written by a transgender author. After her mother decides that she is not safe in her hometown anymore, high school senior Amanda moves in with her dad in a town where nobody knows her and she can try to go stealth. But even as she is making friends and experiencing romance for the first time, she constantly worries about what will happen if her secret comes out. It’s a fairly standard story about being transgender, really, but as it comes from a trans author, it feels a lot more personal and less voyeuristic than these stories tend to be when coming from a cisgender perspective. Amanda is a sympathetic and compelling character. TW: This book deals with a number of upsetting themes, including transphobic violence, being forcibly outed and suicide. There is a flashback to Amanda’s pre-transition suicide attempt, which I found particularly triggering. I also wish she could have come out on her own terms, instead of being outed in front of the whole school by someone she thought she could trust. It is still a pretty good book, but it can be very upsetting at times.

As I Descended by Robin Talley

A loose retelling of Macbeth that takes place in a boarding school in Virginia and involves two queer couples. The supernatural elements of the play are amplified in a wonderfully creepy way, and the characters are complex and realistic, so you understand their motivations, even when they do bad things. TW: Out of the five queer characters in the novel, three die, two of them by suicide.

A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo by Jill Twiss and EG Keller

A charming picture book about the Vice President’s pet bunny who falls in love with another boy bunny and wants to hop around at his side for the rest of his life. This book was written as a screw you to Mike Pence, but even so it is a genuinely nice kid’s book that deals with homosexuality and marriage equality in a way that is appropriate for young children. The illustrations are incredibly cute as well.

Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente

A very strange, surreal tale about four people (most of whom are queer in some way) exploring a magical city that you can enter in your dreams by sleeping with someone who has been there before. I wanted to like this one more than I did, because I really love Catherynne Valente’s Fairyland books for children. But while some of the dreamlike imagery is cool and pretty, I found a lot of it weirdly uncomfortable, along with the frequent sex scenes.

The Pearl Thief by Elizabeth Wein

15-year-old Julia is home for the summer at her parents’ ancestral mansion in Scotland and gets involved with a plot about theft, disappearance and possibly murder. She also has her first crushes – on a man working at her parents’ estate and a young Traveller girl, respectively. This is a prequel to Code Name Verity, which has the same protagonist, though her bisexuality isn’t really alluded to in that, which is why I’ve kept it off the list, even though it is an excellent book. The Pearl Thief is pretty good as well, though it is a bit strange to read after you’ve already read Verity and know that this carefree teenage character is going to grow up to be a spy in World War II and be tortured in a Nazi prison. Do read both books, though. They are great.

Gut Symmetries by Jeanette Winterson

A young scientist falls in love with the wife of the man she’s having an affair with. There’s speculation about quantum mechanics and interconnectedness, all wrapped in very poetic language. To be perfectly honest, I really didn’t get it, so I have no idea what any of it means. But at least the main character is bisexual and polyamorous (and possibly genderfluid – I’m not sure).

Queer Africa by Makhosazana Xaba and Karen Martin

A collection of short stories by queer African writers, discussing themes like love, sex, marriage, family and homophobia. The attitudes towards queerness in these different countries varies. In many of them, homosexuality is illegal, even though same-sex relationships used to be respected before the interference of Western colonialism. In any case, these stories are an interesting and oftentimes beautiful examination of queerness from a non-Western point of view, some joyous and some tragic. TW: The second to last story is about incest.

[lotustories]

Despicable

Pairing: Reader x Kim Taehyung x Kim Seokjin

Type: angst, smut

Warnings: mentions of crime, sexual activity, alcohol use, and vulgar language

Chapter navigation

Chapter 3

In the month you had been living with taehyung, he was very open to involving you in all projects and his life. The first night he involved you was when he told you about the others, showing you photos and giving information like he had known you forever. “Why are you telling me everything?” You asked and he had stared at you quietly for a moment before leaning foraward in his chair. “There’s something about you,” he studied your face. “I trust you.” He pulled away before leaving you alone in the room. He also spoils you, which you constantly refuse but he doesn’t like. He insists on it. This weekend was seokjins wedding, a wedding taehyung had to attend. A wedding he said you had to go to as well, which is why he wanted you to go shopping. “Yn, please take Lalo and go shopping.” He pleaded, you shook your head stubbornly. “I don’t want your money, nor do I want to attend my exes wedding.” You scoffed, walking away from him and he grew frustrated. Taehyung grabbed you turning you around to face him. The first time he actually touched you this aggressively, but it was gentle. His touch making your breath hitch as he held you closely. “Think of it this way,” he tsked, “Seokjin has no idea what happened to you since Nyla threw you out. He smirked. “Imagine how petty it would be to have you show up as my date.” Your eyebrows raised at him comment. “Date?” Your attempt at hiding your smile failing as he pulled away. “Lalo, make sure she gets the best of the best.” He hands Lalo his black card and motioned you away. “Come, yn.” Lalo’s small smile as he walked past you.

Everywhere you went, people eyed you, there was rumors of taehyung having a new fling, but he never let photos of you get out. He never let you be exposed. The only people who knew of you were the youngest of the crew. Jimin, who finally warmed up to you. Jungkook, who liked you from the start. “I’m just saying, she seems soft.” Jimin spoke of you as if you weren’t standing right there. “I’m not.” You spoke, hearing you speak caused the other girls to gasp. It was a rule. “Did I say you could speak?” He raised his eyebrow, amused with you. “I don’t belong to you.” You answered back and he stood up. Taehyung watching carefully as the other girls looked afraid for you. “Disobedient little thing.” He gawked at you, his face inches from yours. “you’re not scared of me?” He pulled away, his eyes roaming your body as he licked his lips. “Taehyung?” He called out, his eyes not leaving yours. “No.” Taehyung answered sternly and Jimin frowned. “Fine.” Jimin's face turning into a smile as he walked back to his seat. Since then he had treated you like the other men. Spoke to you, respected you. He was always teaching you how to defend yourself. The first lesson you had taehyung watched. “You have to be prepared.” Jimin stood in front of you, his bare chest glistening in sweat as he pounced around on his toes. His shorts swaying side to side like the boxers you see in the movies. “I know how to fight.” You watched his moves, catching his point of attack before he could harm you. so When he charged, you moved to the left. His eyes widening slightly as he shook his head out of amusement. “How good is your hook?” He waved his hands at you to come towards him. “Hit me.” He demanded your eyes going to taehyung only for him nodded in return. “No mercy,” Jimin added and so You swung, your arm and it connected with his face. The loud “whew” falling from his lips. He seemed to like the pain, he brought his head back up, a smirk plastered on his face. “Damn.” He looked to taehyung and then back to you. “You’ve got a lot of fire in you, why do you hold back?” He wiped his mouth and stepped toward you. “Hm?” He pressed, waiting for your answer. “If she ever messed with you,” Jimin whispered. “Fight back.” He glared, his eyes staring deep into yours. “Do not let them think you are weak.” He snarled. His advice coming from heart, a personal experience. “Understand?” He waited for your answer and you nodded. “I do.” The short amount of time the men you grew to know making you feel stronger than ever.

“Yn?” The owner of the dress shop questioned as she saw you enter. You gave a nod and she smiled brightly at you. “Sir Taehyung asked us to make a dress for you, it’s ready, but it’s needs to be fixed to your body.” She pointed to the stand in front of the mirror wanting you to stand on it. “Oh?” You turned to Lalo. “I thought I was just to find a dress.” She laughed softly. “He had this dress planned. A design of his own.” You looked down at her as she pulled out the measuring tape. “His design?” You questioned and she nodded, her eyes focused on your legs. “He often only designs his own clothes, this is a first for a woman.” She stood up to meet your eyes. “You must be really special.” The dress she brought out was beautiful. It showed nearly every inch of your body, but covered enough to be appropriate. “Wow.” Lalo spoke out loud. He shook his head in realization as he looked away. “The heels,” she handed you these pumps with heels that looked like stems of roses. The black heels making you feel powerful. “An outfit for a goddess.” She hands you the note that says exactly that. “From Sir Taehyung.” You couldn’t help but smile at his note. “Thank you for your help.” You handed her the clothes so she could package it. Thanking her as you signed the bill. Lalo was promoted to taehyung’s right hand man when you praised him for being kind to you on your first night of meeting. The other, you had no idea what happened to him. You assumed fired or demoted. “You seem happier,” Lalo walked next to you like a shield. His eyes focusing on the streets. “Since we first met.” He added. “I think I am?” And it was the truth. You felt happier. You felt free. When being with Seokjin your life resulting in staying home and waiting for him to return. Short conversations and staying in the dark of his life. The return home felt short, and when you arrived home you noticed an extra car in the driveway. One you were unfamiliar with so lalo snuck you in the back. “Keep quiet.” When you got inside and up the staircase you recognized the voice coming from taehyung’s office. “All I’m asking is to find her, it’s been a over month.” Your heart immediately stopping. “Jin, have you checked jk and Jimin’s cities?” Taehyung sighed as he tried pushing Seokjin out the front door. Lalo letting you watch but holding you at a distance so you were not seen. “I did and they don’t even know who I’m talking about.” He whined, seeing him angered you. You wanted nothing more than to go down there and yell at him, but you knew you couldn’t. “And you expect me to?” Taehyung laughed, catching glimpse of you upstairs as lalo pulled you out of sight. He took you to your room and all noise from downstairs was instantly muted. “Sorry, But can’t let you be seen.” He explained and ten minutes later, taehyung entered the room. “How was shopping?” He questioned but you were not in the mood to talk about that. “What did he want?” You changed the conversation and he groaned slightly. His eyes narrowing at you. “He wanted me to find you.” He answered and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?” You started. “And How is you saying you don’t know me gonna play out when you drag me to his wedding,” you snarled and taehyung took a deep breath. “Firstly, calm down angel.” He whispered. “Second, He was just curious as to where you went. Truthfully, as far as he knows,” he paused. Swallowing before he answered. “He thinks you’re dead.” Your heart squeezed. Seokjin thought you were dead and was still going through with the wedding. Taehyung sat on your bed and patted it so you would sit with him. “Lastly, he won’t act up on his wedding day. Not when he’ll have all crews and especially namjoons family there.” Taehyung pushed away a strand of your hair. “Sleep,” his hand still holding your hair away from your face. “Tomorrow there will be a meeting here with Jimin and jungkook.” He stood up and walked towards the door. “You are to attend.” He turned before existing. A small smile on his face. “Goodnight yn,”

The next morning you sat in the conference room with the three men. Each of them coming with ideas to merge their cities without causing chaos. “Why is this so hard, are you doing it secretly?” You questioned and jungkook nodded. “We don’t want the others knowing. They will think we are conspiring against them” Jimin answered. “and the result of that would be?” You asked, your eyes on taehyung. “War.” He answered and you only shrugged. “So fight for what’s yours.” Jimin snickering at your comment. “It’s not that easy,” jungkook spoke. “Right now Nyla and seokjin stand in our way to connect cities.” He showed you the map. “So take it.” You snarled and Jimin laughed loudly. “You know I was starting to wonder why taehyung wanted you so badly.” He smiled as he circled a place on the map. “In order to do that, we need to make them weak.” Taehyung has a finger on his mouth as of thinking of what to say. “This will have to wait, we will know more after the wedding.” He stood and an idea popped into your head. “What if I agreed to be his plaything?” Taehyung’s head snapped to you faster than he ever reacted to anything. “And what the fuck for?” Truthfully this was probably the first time he was angry or vulgar with you. “Ah,” You stuttered. “It was a suggestion, I thought maybe we could have an inside person.” He shook his head. “No.” Taehyung left the room in a storm, you quickly following after him. “Hey,” You chased him, your hand grabbing his as you stopped him. “It was just a suggestion, I don’t understand why you’re so upset?” He inhaled and turned to you. “This is a dangerous life, yn.” He stared down at you. Daggers in his eyes. “Just because I keep you in the loop, doesn’t mean I want you participating.” He added and you felt offended. “Why do you treat me like a child.” You grew furious. “you have lalo follow me everywhere. You involve me in your work, but won’t let me do anything. Jimin wanted me to go with him to a trade and you refused. If this is my life now, let me have control of it stop treating me like I am your property.” Taehyung didn’t seem to be listening. “No.” He turned away from you. “Why the fuck not-“ he turned around, his face only a few inches from yours. “Because I care about you.” He said it aggressively. As if saying it was hard for him, or like he was holding it in for so long. Your body instantly relaxed and he sighed. His eyes closing as he inhaled. “I care about you too.” You whispered and he gave a soft half smile. “but I’m not as fragile as you think.” You looked into his eyes. They softened at your words. “I’m starting to realize that.” His hand reaching up caress your face. Maybe if you had another second, he would kissed you, but jungkook interrupted. “i have a problem in my city, you coming?” Jungkook looked furious. “Jimin wants yn there.” He added, and taehyung looked down at you. “You wanted to see,” he started. “I guess this is your chance.” He finished, pulling away from you. “Come on, let’s see how ruthless this life can be.” Jimin smirked as he walked past the both of you.

Authors note: because I was asked about this, I feel like explaining if anyone else has questions. This story involves Seokjin, but he is a very limited. It’s told in the point of view of the reader, which most of their stories of him will be memories and few actual interactions. Which is also why this started so fast, instead of a few chapters with Seokjin and yn. A little further in the story he will be more active. Also sorry for typos I always double check but sometimes I miss them until I read the published version ╥﹏╥

[vixieevox]

The Grand Rebranding

There were only twenty minutes before noon, and for the first time in months, I was afraid.

It wasn’t the kind of fear that you might feel if you were facing down a pack of geists while waist-deep in snow. For a warrior trade princess like me, that was just another weekday. It wasn’t the fear that some might feel when facing down someone much larger than them in a hand to hand duel, that was just life as a goblin. It wasn’t even the fear of being penniless since I had hit rock bottom before and dragged myself out of it by my thumbs and could do so again if need be.

I was afraid that my fiancee was going to be late for the biggest day of my life.

I know that sounds selfish, but you have to understand. The plan was months in the making and it’s the biggest gift a goblin could ever give to another.

If Pexi had read the note I left by the steak omelet I cooked for her before heading out, she’d have found a simple message that said “I need you in Bilgewater today at noon. Just go to Shatt and talk to the Draenei named Boorus, he’ll tell you what happens next.” The note shouldn’t have been missed since it was black bold letters on ugly gold paper. The directions should have been clear enough that even if Pexi got distracted, she wouldn’t forget it. I love my fiancee, but she’s not the smartest Troblin on Azeroth. Anyway, after she talked to Boorus, he would teleport her to Orgrimmar where one of my flight-boys would give her a chaperoned ride to Bilgewater isle, that I had rented for the morning and early afternoon for today’s announcement, that my parent company was a rebranding.

No longer would Vixiee Bootsguard be the owner of Bootsguard Productions, she’d be the co-owner of Fiercefuel Fabrications. Same business but named after my fiancee.

I pictured that she would see the brand new sign and marquee that I had secretly designed over the past few weeks and would turn all sorts of shades of red, rush the stage, tackle me, and kiss me until she realized we were making out on stage. We’d have a laugh, mingle, and slip away for some private dining on the Y.A.C.H.T. that I had built and hidden in the Bilgewater warehouses for the day.

But here I was, about to have to make the announcements with the real star of the show nowhere to be seen. If I had to be honest, I was about five seconds from crying. I wanted to cancel the event, tell everyone to take all the snacks and drinks as an apology, and just hide in a room and bawl my eyes out.

But I couldn’t.

See, I’m a trade princess and the world’s strongest woman. So publicly, I have to always be in control. I have to look the part of a proud leader who would never be phased by anything. I wanted to be just like my hero Gazlowe and be honorable and good to my people except for way stronger and more successful. How could I do that if everyone saw me snotting all over the blue sequined dress that I had ordered custom woven from a Silvermoon tailor? It’d be the biggest scandal as one of the new trade princesses on the scene broke down. Even with the recent cooperation deal, I struck with Steamwheedle, I can just see that affecting business deals until the next big scandal drew eyes away from me.

So I had to go through with the rebranding…no matter what.

I shook off the feelings that made my heart hurt and sashayed my way up to the podium in front of the tarp-covered marquee. Every step was graceful, with my thighs slipping out from the slit just enough to draw eyes from the fellas and ladies that fancied amazons like me. My lips were curled in a winning smile and my purple eyes shined reflecting the carefully positioned stage lights and fireworks that heralded my appearance. The band I hired to play Kezan show tunes blared their horns and banged their drums, matching my pace and the sway of my hips.

I’ll admit it was vain as all hell, but when you look as good as me, you can show off at least a little.

Flikk, the MC I hired for the event smiled and shook my hand before the younger goblin turned towards the crowd.

“Yeah, you’re right boss! Enough ‘bout the sandwiches! Let’s give a round of applause to Trade Princess Bootsguard!” Flikk said before leaving me alone on the stage.

I winked at Flikk then grabbed the edges of the podium for support as I scanned the crowd to see if I somehow missed my blue-haired love. I winked at guests as I met their eyes and tapped my skull-shaped hairpin when I saw one of my fans showing off her limited edition recreation. I even feigned a blush when the orc in the back blew me a kiss.

But no sign of Pexi.

I don’t know how I kept the smile on my face, but the show must go on.

“Ok ok fellas,” I said, “I’m happy you are all here but let’s get this show on the road.”

I paused and waited for the whoopin’ and hollering to die down.

Someone in the back coughed and I think someone had gotten drunk on volcano punch and set something on fire when I heard a scream and the distant smell of burnt hair. Someone shouted about the Samoflange. It was good to be home again.

“Three years ago, I opened up my first solo operation,” I said, “Bootsguard productions were always about brand name adventurin’ goods so you could fight bad guys or delve in tombs in style. The devices I made were also a hit, includin’ the Bootsguard Body Blocker Electro Shield. Nevah thought I’d be a trade princess, but careful savings, smart investin’, and bein’ a badass princess like me makes it easy, especially with the help of every one of ya.”

I meant it too. Unlike Gally-bag-of-dix or other losers like him, I cared about the people that worked for me. I didn’t know everyone by name, but I don’t think a single person at that event doubted that I would have jumped to their defense against anything and everyone. I was truly the denmom for this cartel and I loved it.

“But,” I said “there comes a time when a rebrandin’ is in order. And that’s what we’re here for today to announce that—”

I heard a whipping sound and a sheer whistling sound. My ears flicked as I tried to pinpoint the source. The crowd heard it as well, as most the goblins and others there turned and murmured to see what was going on.

The sound was closer then. The whipping sound was a gyrocopter blade chopping through the air and the whistling sound was a familiar voice shouting from the horizon.

“….waaaaAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIT!”

I have to admit, my heart leaped into my throat and I felt like I had to cry. This time, it wasn’t out of frustration or disappointment. It was from the voice of my Fiancee as she clung for dear life on the landing bar of the gyrocopter while the pilot was navigating the burning sparking thing towards the island. I had a ton of questions about what exactly happened to make the thing spark and sputter like that, but I didn’t care at the time. Pexi was there at the nick of time.

As the Gyrocopter reached the island, Pexi threw herself from the burning sparking machine as the pilot swung it around for an emergency landing on the P.I.L.L.O.W. that deployed whenever scanners detected a crashing ship nearing the island. So basically about seven times a day.

“YEEEEEET” shouted Pexi as she activated her rocket boots to try for a safe landing inside of the gathered group.

The guests screamed and shouted as they made way for the troblin expecting the larger woman to crash in on them and break an arm; hers or someone else's. But I stayed still since I designed her propulsion system myself and knew about the para-soles deployment system that would make a perfectly soft and safe landing.

“Hey, doll! Ya made it!” I said to Pexi.

Pexi landed with a soft pat on the earth, her face red and sweating.

“Heya babe,” Pexi said, “Sorry I’m late. The ship had to get repairs since a bear slapped it when we were flying too low and we had to take out the passenger seats so that it could fly again and…”

I raised my hand and shook my head to quiet her. I loved my fiancee, but if I didn’t stop her, she’d explain every minute of the journey and we were already behind schedule.

“Don’t worry about it”, I said as my guests returned to their places, “You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” Pexi asked.

I smiled at her and sashayed to a rope that trailed down from the tarp that covered the marquee.

“Hey, stop droolin’ at my fiancee”, Pexi said. I heard her slap someone in the back of the head and giggled. I don’t know who she caught, but they had to know better. This princess belonged only to Pexi. Lookin’ was free, but so was head slaps if she caught them.

I ignored the slap and turned around.

“Well doll, I said I was gonna give you the ultimate wedding gift. So…I’ll has to think of something else since our weddin’ is delayed. So call this a ‘cause you mean the world to me’ gift instead.” I said.

I jerked the rope and the tarp rolled off the marquee.

The sign was a flashing neon thing powered by my own eco-friendly pneumatics pumps. It featured Pexi and my faces with an arm outstretched welcoming visitors to whatever building we hung it over. Our faces dangled over the left side of the words “Fiercefuel Fabrications”, with my mascot, the mouse Bullion sleeping inside of the o. The S had a pair of tiny troll tusks sticking out of it to represent half of my fiancee’s parentage, while a pair of bombs dangled beneath, representing that the co-owners were a pair of bombshells.

I waited for Pexi to take it all in, then looked at her with a cheeky smile.

“So doll, what do ya thi—”

Pexi cut me off by leaping over the podium and tackling me to the ground for a big smoochin’ session.

Maybe this plan didn’t go wrong after all.

[reyloforcebalance]

Bonded Chapter 27: Vulnerable

The newest chapter to my Reylo fanfic (rated T). If you want to check out the previous chapters, here’s the link to AO3!

The forest is alive with sound.

The staccato call of two long-necked birds, flitting from tree to tree. The chirping of insects, rising and falling in a kind of song. The rustling of animals as they scurry by, foraging for food.    

Rey stalks through the woods, the earth crunching under her boots, moist soil covered by a bed of dead leaves, twigs, rocks, and all manner of flora.

Her eyes are sharp and observant, taking in the sights and sounds, both enjoying them and assessing them, filtering everything she sees through a checklist in her mind.

It’s thick here. The trees are full and close together, the ground covered with brush and vines.

It’s not ideal.

On the one hand, they’ll have more cover. On the other, it will slow them down, make it easier for the slavers to catch up to them and more likely that someone will get lost.

The target for this rescue is fifty, more if they can. Fifty people, tired and underfed, trekking through the forest at first light. They’ll be scared, on edge, moving through unfamiliar surroundings.

It would be better if there more space between trees, less brush to push through. They’d move more quickly and in a larger pack, reduce the chance of someone getting separated.

Rey can only hope that someone else finds a thinner area of the forest, anything more open than this. She’s got four other scouts out here. Surely one of them will find a better route.

But she can’t count on it. For all she knows, this is the thinnest area of the forest. She needs to keep her focus, keep imagining the escape in her mind, what they’d need to watch out for.

She reaches for the navigational device in her pouch, checking the distance to their rendezvous point.

Three and quarter miles to go. Close to halfway.

She looks up and around as she tucks the device back in the pouch, searching for a distinctive marker or any sign that this part of the forest is different than where she started.

But there’s nothing.

It seems like the same mass of trees, so high and thick with verdure they blot out most of the sky, the light trickling through only in thin streams.

Rey sighs and returns her gaze forward, brushing past a layer of vines hanging from a branch above. Suddenly, she starts to slow, squinting.

She can’t tell for sure, but it seems to get brighter not far ahead. Much brighter, as if the forest abruptly ends. Maybe it opens into a field…?

She picks up her pace, brushing away greenery as she weaves between the trees, her pulse quickening in anticipation. She hops over a log, eyes trained forward, eager to make out what she’s seeing.

She slows as she gets closer, her heart sinking as the view gradually comes into focus.  

That’s an open space alright. But it’s no field.

It’s a ravine.  

Her pace tapers to a trudge as she approaches the edge of an abrupt drop, at least thirty feet deep. She halts, sighing heavily as she takes in the scene.

The ravine is wide, so wide that even the tallest tree in the forest couldn’t bridge the gap. It stretches on indefinitely to the left and to the mountain on the right. It’s covered in green, vines crawling up the steep sides, curling around roots jutting out of the earth. Under any other circumstance, she might think it was beautiful.

But right now, it’s death knell.

No.

This won’t work.

They can’t take the rescues this way. In fact, depending on how far the ravine goes, they might just have to rethink their whole strategy for this one…

Rey crosses her arms as she mulls over this unpleasant development. She lets out a puff of air, examining the ravine closely, reluctant to give up just yet.

If it’s as long as it appears to be, perhaps there’s a bridge somewhere. Then again, if there is, that’s the first place the slavers will go when they realize a chunk of their property is missing. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if they have someone guarding the bridge, keeping an eye out for thieves and escapees.

She purses her lips, thinking.

What about the mountain?

She twists to the right.

It’s not far, a little over mile by the looks of it. There could be a path along the side or even a tunnel. It’s worth a look.

Rey turns away from the ravine, walking back into the forest a few feet, then changing direction. She stalks towards the mountain, tepidly hopeful she’ll find a way to make this work.

And yet, she has a gut feeling this is a lost cause. Try as she might, she can’t imagine a way through or around the mountain that wouldn’t pose considerable danger to their rescues. They need a straight shot, something quick and less complicated.

She walks forward briskly but less purposefully than before, slowly accepting the reality of the situation, that it all depends on what the other scouts find. She begins to observe the forest more for its beauty than its potential as an escape route, noting all kinds of plants she’s never seen before, many of them brilliant colors, a deep red, a bright yellow.

Before long her mind begins to drift, her surroundings fading to the background as her thoughts meander down a familiar path, almost involuntarily, like on autopilot.

She just can’t stop thinking about it. She can hardly pass an idle minute without going back to it, running through the scenes in her mind.

There’s still so much to process.

They’d talked for hours. Hours. Though the night and into the morning, only stopping because both of them could hardly keep their eyes open. They cried together, laughed together, worried together. They shared stories, fears, hopes, dreams.  

Rey pictures the woman’s face in her mind, her bright eyes, that crinkle just under them, her features animated with emotion, sometimes soft and sad, other times sharp and focused.

It’s strange to think that it wasn’t too long ago that Rey thought of her as “the General.”

Now, she’s Leia. She’s not some tall, imposing figure but a human being, just as fragile and vulnerable as she is resilient and strong.

Rey was surprised to find out exactly how human Leia really is. The woman always seems like steel in public, so confident and decisive, like she’s never second-guessed herself a day in her life.

But, of course, she has.

Leia doubts. She worries. She feels just as lost and lonely as Rey does sometimes, disconnected from everyone around her by lifetime of extremes— legendary victories offset by the darkest tragedies. She defeated the Empire but lost her home. She created a new order only to watch her son rip it all to shreds.

And she carries it all alone, pondering it secretly in her heart.

Leia needed this. She needed it just as much as Rey did, maybe more so. She needed to connect with someone she can’t hide from, someone who has an inkling of what it’s like to hope even in the most desperate situations, to love even through the bitterest differences.

At this, the conversation replays in Rey’s mind, the one she keeps going back to. Out of hours upon hours of revelation, encouragement, and advise, this is what she remembers the most, the thing that lingers.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” Rey had asked tentatively. “To love him? To just want to be with him, in spite of everything?” She tensed, bracing herself for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

But Leia surprised her.

“Rey…” She’d scoffed softly, leaning in closer. “I’ve spent a lifetime loving people I deeply disagree with on both a personal and ideological level. It’s not wrong.” She shook her head firmly. “You can’t help who you love. And you can’t help but be drawn to the ones you love, to want be with them even when there’s so much that divides you. In fact…” She leaned back as her voice trailed off, her eyes growing dark with thought.  

“Sometimes I wonder…” She mused. “I wonder if opposites attract for a reason. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of finding balance.”

“What do you mean?” Rey asked eagerly.

Leia didn’t answer straight away but instead looked to the floor, mulling over the question. When she finally spoke, her voice was distant, her gaze soft and faraway.

“It’s the easiest thing, you know.” She tilted her head back. “To see the opposing side as the villain, as something so wrong it’s beyond comprehension why anyone would ever think that way. And when you see people like that, you don’t engage with them. Why would you? Even just talking to them, entertaining their ideas, feels like a violation of your values. But…” Leia looked at Rey as she articulated the word.

“When you add love to the equation, things are different. You’re willing to listen. You’re willing to consider the other’s perspective, to try to understand why they believe what they believe, why they do what they do. And then, as time passes, as the love grows, what once seemed just wrong looks more… complex.” Leia chose the word carefully, drawing it out. Then she smiled to herself. “That’s when you really start to change.”

Rey remembers how her heart fluttered at this, how it seemed to be exactly the answer she was looking for, what she needed to hear more than anything.  

But then Leia abruptly sat up, reacting to Rey’s emotions, her eyes wide and urgent.

“That’s not to say love can mend all differences,” she added hastily. “I’m sorry to tell you that it can’t.” She shook her head. “Sometimes people don’t change. And there are some divisions that are truly irreconcilable.” She leaned in close, her gaze kind but with an undertone of pain.

“Rey,” she started gently. “I’m sure you know how I happy I’ve been to hear what you’ve told me today. I-” Her voice suddenly broke. “I haven’t felt this kind of hope in a long time.” She couldn’t contain her smile as she spoke, her eyes glistening with tears. But in the next instant her face fell, suddenly growing solemn. “But based on everything I’ve heard, it’s important that you…” She gulped. “And I… prepare for the possibility that things may not turn out the way we want them to.”

Rey’s heart drops at the memory of Leia’s warning, the uncomfortable truth hitting her just as heavily now as it did then. She absently brushes past the vines in front of her, feeling that tension well inside, an agonizing frustration that’s all too familiar.  

She’d thought for sure that talking with Leia would help her see things more clearly. And it did, in some respects. Yet she still feels hopelessly unclear on the one thing she wants to know more than anything.

How is she supposed to handle this mess?

She can’t control how she feels. She wants him so badly, more and more every time she sees him. But how can she give into her desire when he still expects her to be something she’s not? How can she let herself be vulnerable with him when he’s still the Supreme Leader of the First Order?  

Even Leia didn’t have answers to these questions.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Rey.” She’d shook her head firmly. “To be honest, I’m not even sure there’s a right thing to do, at least not in an objective sense. But I can give you some perspective.”

“So, what would you do?” Rey leaned forward intently. “In a situation like this?” Leia sighed as she looked up to the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I hope…” she tilted her head, “that I’d be open to listening, to seeking a middle ground. But I also hope that I wouldn’t compromise my core values, that I’d stand firm on the things that matter most. And regardless of what choice I made, whether I gave into my feelings or not, I hope I’d be honest with myself about why I made that choice.” At this, Leia glanced at Rey, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Rey asked defensively. Leia pursed her lips.

“I think…” She began cautiously, “that you have very good reason for being wary of this relationship. But I also think, maybe…” She paused as if considering whether or not to continue. “That there’s another reason you’re not giving in to what you feel, perhaps a reason you’re not entirely aware of…?” She raised an eyebrow. Rey looked back, guarded, but said nothing.

“Tell me,” Leia continued with a steady gaze. “Is this your first time being in love?” Rey answered with a short nod. Leia nodded back in response, then clasped her hands in her lap. “Is it like you thought it would be?”  

At this, Rey looked away, suddenly finding it difficult to maintain eye contact.

“It’s…” She gulped. “Different. More complicated, I guess.”

“How?” Leia probed.

“It’s just…” Rey struggled to find the right words. “I never realized… I didn’t expect…” She tensed, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “It would scare me,” she finished in a low voice.

“Why does it scare you?” Leia asked quietly.

“Because.” Rey abruptly snapped her head up. “I never thought I’d fall in love with the Supreme Leader of the First Order.”

“And if he weren’t the Supreme Leader,” Leia responded without skipping a beat. “If he were just an average person, you wouldn’t feel this way, you wouldn’t feel scared?” Rey looked away again.

“I…” She squirmed. “I’m not sure.”

“Can you,” Leia asked tentatively, “think of a reason why you might be?” Rey shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I guess… I guess maybe… I’d still worry…” She let her voice trail off, unsure how to finish. Leia waited patiently, never pushing her once. “I might still worry about getting hurt,” she finally whispered.

“Rey.” She looked up and was met by dark eyes brimming with compassion.

“I’ve been around for a few years now,” Leia started with a wry smile. “And I’ve been in love more than once. I’m sorry to tell you… I got hurt every time. In fact, I don’t know a single person who’s fallen in love and not gotten hurt. Even in the strongest relationships I know, people still get hurt sometimes. It’s just part of being in love.” Rey’s heart sunk as she heard this.

“But that’s not the only part.” Leia leaned in closer, eyes bright with intensity. “The thing that makes love so scary, that causes you to get hurt, is the exact same thing that makes love so precious, that bonds people together in the most meaningful way imaginable.”

“What thing?” Rey whispered.

“Opening your heart,” Leia answered. “Letting yourself be utterly vulnerable, more vulnerable than you’ll ever be.” Rey gulped, surprised to feel tears pushing at the backs of her eyes.

“Rey,” Leia said her name tenderly, lifting a hand to her face. “I don’t know if it’s right for you to give in to what you feel for my son. But I do know that you shouldn’t let fear make your choice for you.” At this, a few tears escaped down Rey’s cheeks. “Being in love is a wonderful thing,” Leia beamed. “And I want you to experience it one day, all of it, whether it’s with my son or someone else.”

As these words echo in Rey’s mind, she starts to slow without realizing it, soon halting outright, standing silently in the middle of the forest. She looks down, but doesn’t really see the ground below. She’s lost in her thoughts, the memory of Leia’s hand on her cheek, the strength of her emotions as she spoke— her confidence, her compassion, her hope.

Rey lets herself linger there, linger in that moment and everything it made her feel. Warm. Connected. Terrified. Ashamed. Uncertain.

As she does, she can’t stop the thought from crossing her mind.

Sometimes she misses her life on Jakku.

She never thought in a million years she’d ever think such a thing. She was so lonely there. So desperate for companionship, for love. All she ever wanted was to belong with someone.

But she never realized what that would feel like, all the complicated emotions, how hard it would be.

Lately, she’s imagined going back in time, coming face to face with her former self so she can urge her to enjoy her simple life while she can, embrace the monotony, the boredom, the comforting regularity.

Get up. Scavenge. Trade. Eat. Imagine. Sleep. Do it all again the next day.

No galactic wars to worry about. No Force. No bond. No Ben. No grand destiny looming vaguely overhead. Just survival, pure and simple.

Those were the days…

Read the rest of the chapter on Ao3!

[mackinmacki]

Down By the Water: Purrfect Partners II (Ch. 1 - The Spring)

Rating: K

Word Count: 3041

Summary: The members of Aqours try to navigate through trying times in what ends up being a very important year at school. Meanwhile, the members of Muse, now having all becomes Guardians, will attempt to keep everything from going off the rails.

Notes:  So I decided to start writing this because it was to be my 100th story on FFN, but there’s been much more than that on here. I still hope you're all able to enjoy it regardless! I’d been wanting to do this since before I finished the original, but obviously that took much longer than I expected (or it should’ve). But hey, here we go!

Link: (FFN) | (AO3)

Chika was laying down on the beach, her arms above her head as she held her phone aloft. On the screen were three girls dancing on a stage to slickly-produced electro-pop beats. Their outfits were outlandish, yet appealing to the eye. They moved so flawlessly with each other, every step having been carefully coordinated. While the moves themselves were different, she felt a sense of familiarity after all those times she had watched Kanan practicing her own dancing. It was the kind of talent she wished that she had worked on back then. School idols were really something.

The beach was so calm in the evenings. Not a lot of people were there, allowing Chika to relax without interruption. The tinge of salt that arrived on the air from the water was a friend she had long ago gotten used to. She loved everything about her quaint little seaside town. The big city was big and bright, but there was something to be said for a place where everybody knew each other by their first names. That didn't mean she couldn't dream...

Lately she'd been having dreams of dancing on stage in front of huge audiences, just like the girls in the videos she watched. It was the dreams that made her start watching the videos, in fact, and made her really start thinking about school idols. Even when Kanan had been in her own idol group, she'd only given it general appreciation, and that was just because her friend was in it. This was different, though. She no longer felt like sitting on the sidelines, watching and supporting her friends. Now she wanted to make her own idol group.

It just seemed so exciting. Sometimes she'd daydream about dancing next to Kanan's group, Aqours, and being part of the idol experience. That's all it was, though: a dream. Not only had Aqours broken up, but even mentioning idols now made Kanan noticeably annoyed. At this point, Chika knew better than to speak about things like that in her presence. It was kind of frustrating, though. Now that she had finally come around to being super excited about idols, Kanan chose to clam up about the whole enterprise. She understood, but... it was still a little annoying.

When the video ended, Chika sighed and sat up, sand clinging to the back of her shirt. Things just weren't the same anymore, and it sucked. There was always underlying tension, and even if Kanan tried to hide it, she knew it was there. She could feel it in the air, but nobody ever wanted to talk about it. Even You felt it was best to just let sleeping dogs lie. That was the most frustrating thing of all, though! She wanted to wake those sleeping dogs and make something happen!

Speaking of dogs... Chika stood up and tried to wipe the sand off of her back, but stopped when she saw something in her peripheral vision. When she turned to look at it, she saw that it was a big, orange dog. It was just sitting on the beach, staring at her. Or at least staring her way. She tilted her head slightly, and the dog mimicked her action. Confused, she took a step towards it, then another. The dog didn't move. In fact, it didn't do anything but just watch her as she approached. It was sort of creepy. There was almost no movement at all until she got close enough to where she could pet it. Then it jumped up and started padding away from her.

"Hey, wait!" She called out, but the dog didn't stop, so she began to follow it. There didn't seem to be a collar on it, so it might've been a stray. Or perhaps it was someone's pet, but it had slipped out of its collar. Either way, it would be best if she called animal control. Still, she found herself following it, curious about where it was going, and why it hadn't ran away upon her initial approach.

They both ended up by a dock, where someone else was standing without realizing she now had company. Chika found her attention diverted from the dog and towards the strange girl with the pretty red hair. She'd never seen her around before, and she looked to be around her age. Was she new to town? What was she doing there? Then she moved slightly, like she was taking a deep breath, before unbuttoning her skirt. "Wh-What the heck?!"

She was wearing a bathing suit underneath, but that freaked Chika out for a second. Then she realized what the girl was going to do, and she freaked out all over again. "Wait, stop!" Her phone fell from her hands and into the sand due to her shock. Forgetting about the dog, she ran through the sand and towards the dock, trying to stop the girl before she plunged herself into the still-chilled ocean. Before she got there, however, the girl started to run down the dock with a loud shout. "Wait!"

The girl had nearly plunged off the dock before Chika grabbed her hand, pulling back with all her might to keep them both upright. Clearly having not expected to be interrupted, the girl looked back at Chika. Their eyes met, and Chika felt like her breath had been taken away. That momentary lapse caused her footing to loosen, and with a screech both of them plunged into the ocean.

"C-Cold!" The new girl shouted out as soon as she came back up, with Chika right behind her.

"Y-You think?!" Chika had not been wearing a bathing suit, so now her normal clothes were soaked. That made her pout at the redhead, but she was back to being curious once they both swam back to shore and fell upon the sand. "Why did you try to jump into the water?"

"I..." The girl started to blush, embarrassed about her actions. Rather, she was embarrassed that someone caught her, and was surely judging her. "I was trying to find the sound of the ocean." She hadn't meant for the truth - the silly, strange-sounding truth - to spill out, but there it went. Surely this girl wouldn't understand what she was talking about. Still, she leaned in closer, her eyes burning with curiosity.

"The sound of the ocean? Like the waves crashing or something?"

"Not... exactly." She rubbed her arm nervously, avoiding eye contact. It was something that was really difficult to explain. "I wanted to... write a composition about the ocean, but I don't know too much about it since I just moved here. So I wanted to... get up close and personal, I guess?" She was sure that would continue to be confusing, but it seemed to switch a light on in her attempted savior's eyes instead.

"Ooh, you play an instrument? That's cool!" Chika smiled brightly as she got into the girl's personal space, making her back up a bit. "What instrument is it?"

"The piano..."

"Awesome! I can't play any instruments, but it seems tough. You must have a lot of skill!" That seemed to immediately cause a change in the girl, who shrunk down with a suddenly miserable expression on her face. "Woah, is everything alright? Did I say something bad?"

"No, it's... it's nothing." She looked away, leaving an awkward silence between them. "I'm... I'm Riko. Sakurauchi Riko."

"I'm Takami Chika!" Chika was relieved that the sudden awkwardness was gone, and she was happy to get the name of the new girl. "Since you're new here, I can show you around sometime! If you want, that is." She still wasn't looking at Chika, but she could see a small smile forming on her face. "Is that a yes?"

"Well... maybe." Riko giggled, pushing herself onto her feet. "How about when I get settled in? I still need to help my parents unpack."

"Okay!" Her earlier thoughts about idols and the past had been chased out of her mind, replaced by the excitement of meeting a new person. Riko... She was cute! Hopefully they were the same age, so that they could be in the same class together. Wait until You found out! First things first, though: they needed to get home. Riko went over to the dock, grabbing the towel she'd brought with her to dry off. "So are you going to Uranohoshi High?"

"Yes. I'm a second year." When Riko turned to dry off her legs, Chika silently pumped her fist in the air. Same school, same grade. Excellent! Things were looking up today.

Eventually, Riko finished drying herself off and got dressed, the two of them starting to leave the beach together. It was only then that Chika remembered the strange dog. She looked back at the spot she had seen it last, but there was nothing there. Scanning the beach, there was no sign of the dog anywhere. It must've ran off when Chika tried to save Riko. Oh well. It must've gone back to its owner. There were more important things to do, like trying to eye Riko without it being extremely noticeable.

Things had been going a lot faster than Riko had anticipated. She'd only just moved to Uchiura, and already she had befriended a rambunctious girl named Chika. They'd met completely by chance, yet the coincidences kept on coming when it turned out that Riko had moved in right next door. Chika had been irrepressibly excited, and immediately rushed to the balcony so they could both keep talking across the way. It had been fun, since Chika had enough topics to talk about for the both of them, but it had definitely distracted her. Enough to where she nearly forgot to help with the unpacking.

Thankfully she hadn't gotten in any trouble. Her mom was actually happy that she'd found a friend so quickly. It was secretly relieving to Riko as well. She'd dreaded the thought of trying to make new friends in a place where everybody was surely already so tightly bonded, but it seemed that things wouldn't be as difficult as she'd predicted. Chika hadn't even hesitated to call them friends so soon after meeting. The thought brought a smile to Riko's face.

That smile, however, soon disappeared when she returned to her room and found herself staring at her piano. The movers had quite the time getting it in the room, having to maneuver it from the balcony. Now it stood in the corner, almost as if it was taunting Riko. She shuddered, turning away from it, but she felt as if it was still staring at her. Maybe she should've insisted it go in the living room instead. That'd be the perfect place to entertain guests, or never play it ever again.

She'd had this idea of creating a composition based on the ocean. Now that she was living so close to it, maybe it'd help her get better acquainted with her new town, along with returning her to the instrument she used to love so much. It'd been a crazy idea, though. She'd learned nothing from foolishly throwing herself - and Chika - into the water. How did she even think that was a good idea? This was just a waste of time.

Sighing to herself, Riko pulled her glass door aside and stepped onto the balcony, letting the night air chill her. She went over and put her hands on the railing, looking over towards Chika's side. Light was visible through the slit between the curtains, but they were closed. Chika was probably busy. Too busy to come outside randomly to see if her new neighbor was dealing with mental issues. She was glad she didn't say these things out loud. Otherwise she'd be immediately branded as the weirdo from the big city.

Turning away from the balcony, she stared up at the moon, taking a deep breath. She wished that they didn't have to move to Uchiura. Not that it wasn't nice, but Tokyo was nice too. She missed it, with all the familiar places she knew and loved, plus the few friends she'd made at school. They were all left behind, and if she was honest with herself, nobody probably even missed her. Life was going to continue on, even without her being there. That certainly didn't make her feel any better. God, she had issues.

It would've been different if she wasn't such a failure. She knew that to be undisputed fact. Out of all of the things in the world that she could've failed at, it wasn't supposed to be something she was good at. All she had was that one talent, that one skill she'd worked so hard to get better in, and she'd watched all that work blow up in her face. So much for that...

Things could be different now, though. Nobody here knew who she was back in Tokyo, so she could craft a new life for herself. That was one thought that comforted her, at least a little. All of the mistakes she made in the past didn't have to affect her here. She didn't even have to play the piano anymore. It could be given up... if she hadn't told Chika that she played the piano. Why had she done that? Riko banged her fist against the railing in frustration, mentally berating herself.

It was at that low point, glancing down at the street, when she saw a cat staring back at her. Its fur seemed to glow scarlet beneath the streetlamps, and it made Riko feel weird. Had it been watching her the whole time? No, it couldn't have been. It was just a cat. Maybe it was just wandering around looking for food and had just happened to stop there, where Riko just happened to be contemplating her failures. That made the most sense.

They held eye contact - or what Riko assumed was eye contact - until she realized how utterly ridiculous the whole situation was. Sighing again, she looked away and slunk back into her room, shutting the door and shuffling over to her bed. She fell onto it, face first, and decided she might as well wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night. That was now her best skill. Why did she have to mess everything up?

Outside, the cat stood there for a few moments longer, staring up at the now-empty balcony. Then it twitched its left ear and walked away.

Apparently having solemn nighttime contemplation on one's balcony was contagious in Uchiura. Though for You, there weren't any friendly neighbors for her to even consider talking to about her problems. The one person she could talk to above all others, she couldn't even speak to them about this. How could she tell Chika about how she was feeling when the feelings were caused by Chika herself?

She'd spent several years either ignoring the feelings or outright denying them, but she couldn't really deny them any longer. After almost a lifetime of being best friends with Chika, her feelings had grown beyond 'just friends'. There was more that she wanted, things that being just friends wouldn't satisfy. The thought of admitting these things to Chika, however, terrified her. What if she said no? It would damage their friendship, not to mention absolutely crush You. She couldn't do it.

Then she got the texts from Chika earlier that day. She'd met someone on the beach named Riko, and she was in their grade. Apparently she'd sneaked a picture of her, considering that Riko wasn't looking at the camera, to show You. She had to admit that Riko was pretty, just as Chika said. Thinking it was one thing, though. Seeing Chika say it out loud... via text, anyway... that hurt. It made her stomach churn to think about Chika having these thoughts about someone else. Especially a girl she had just met!

It made her feel like now was the time to do something. If she didn't do anything, Chika would surely become obsessed with Riko. That was just what Chika did. When she got fixated on something, she wouldn't let it go and would talk about it constantly. Idols had become her new fixation, but if it became Riko... You didn't know how she'd be able to live with that.

She pounded her fist against the railing, having made up her mind. No matter how scared she was, she needed to tell Chika the truth about how she felt as soon as possible. If she didn't, then it would be too late. She could do this, she could do this... Oh, how was she going to do this? It was the most terrifying thing she'd ever convinced herself to do!

Slumping against the railing, she sighed and looked up at the sky. Around her block, a lone bird flew against the gloom. Funny: she couldn't remember ever seeing a bird like that flying around during the night. It didn't seem interested in leaving the area either. Rather, it just kept to the same block, always in You's sight. Maybe it was a sign. She wasn't sure what kind of sign it might be, but it was something. Maybe it was good, and that this was the right thing to do.

She smiled and adjusted her glasses, curling her hands into fists. This was going to be fine. She could do it. Tomorrow was the first day of school, after all. It would be time for new beginnings. The beginning of a life where she could be dating Chika... That's all she wanted in life.

"Yousoro!" She slapped her cheeks to psyche herself up, then went back inside to get ready for bed. Her entire being was so amped up, though, and sleep didn't come easy for her. It felt like it took forever to finally fall asleep, and her dreams were too chaotic to get a good grip on. She kept feeling like she was being sucked down by quicksand, only to be spit back out into the same terrifying scenario: Chika not returning her feelings.

When she woke up the next morning, she felt exhausted and more unsure than she had the previous night. "What do I do..."

[sweet-christabel]

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Thirty-Four - 2035. Ship Overboard.

If Chell, for whatever reason, had ever been asked to draw a mad professor, she suspected that she’d have drawn someone like Dr. Kleiner. His pale complexion almost matched his lab coat, his eyes looked permanently wide beneath his square-lensed glasses, and his few remaining wisps of white hair stood out like fluff on the back of his otherwise-bald head.

Of course, it was possible that his eyes looked wide not just due to the glasses, but in surprise at seeing Gordon Freeman on his doorstep. There was a nervous touch of guilt in his manner, and he couldn’t seem to help shooting a quick look at the large building nearby.

Gordon and Alyx greeted him warmly, however, convincingly sounding like they had dropped in on the way to somewhere else. They quickly introduced Chell before spending more time presenting Doug. Alyx drifted back to stand beside Chell as Gordon and Doug skilfully engaged Kleiner in what Chell had secretly named ‘Science Speak’. Kleiner lost some of his edginess as Gordon continued to play the part of friend-catching-up, soon chatting away with some of the boundless enthusiasm that Angela had mentioned. He was eccentric, to be sure, but seemed harmless otherwise.

Alyx and Chell listened silently for several minutes, awaiting the time that they would choose to plead a smoking habit and disappear outside. Kleiner, however, made it easy for them to slip away, dragging Gordon and Doug down to the basement to see his blueprints for some experiment. Alyx laughingly told them to go ahead, stating that she and Chell had an important discussion about shoes to get back to. Gordon couldn’t quite hide his smirk at that.

As soon as the three scientists had vanished down the stairs, Chell and Alyx were out the front door. Kleiner’s simple, wooden-slatted house sat in the shadow of an ugly building resembling an aircraft hangar. With no other buildings in sight and a healthy dose of logic on their side, the two knew it was where the ship was being housed. This did not stop Wheatley helpfully pointing it out, however.

Chell was wearing him like a backpack, a couple of ropes tied to his handles. She was pleasantly surprised that he’d listened to her and hadn’t drawn attention to himself while they were talking to Kleiner, but she supposed that he had the threat of GLaDOS looming over him.

The five of them had come up with the plan on the way, and they all knew their parts. Gordon and Doug would keep Kleiner out of the way while Chell and Alyx explored the hangar. Alyx would ensure that the place was free of scientists so that Chell could follow instructions from GLaDOS via Wheatley to send the ship on one final journey. It was a simple plan as plans went, but there was one huge flaw that Chell was convinced no one else had noticed. She let Alyx jog off to do her part without mentioning it, following the signs to the bridge.

The ship rested at a skewed angle in a clumsy-looking dry dock. It had obviously been hauled upright by Kleiner’s workers in order to build the structures around it. A handful of workbenches formed a makeshift lab alongside the ship, lit by single lightbulbs that swayed on cables from the curved ceiling. Everything about the hangar told the story of its hasty construction. Although it looked able to house a generous handful of workers, the place was mercifully empty. Still, Alyx was adamant about making sure, and Chell wholeheartedly agreed. They entered the ship via the rickety-looking wooden ramp, then parted ways.

The ship bore the wear and tear expected of the years it had spent half buried in ice in the Arctic. Chell had learned that it had been found by a friend of Alyx’s father’s, who had managed to send them enough information to locate it before she had been discovered and attacked by the Combine. Although the ship was largely intact, the exterior hull was badly weathered. The Aperture logo had partially flaked off, but not enough to prevent Chell’s stomach doing a little flip of remembered anxiety when she saw it.

Inside, the industrial-looking corridors were dark and narrow, all indistinguishable from each other apart from the helpful signs on the walls. Once she had found the bridge, Chell retraced her path to the exit several times, trying to ingrain it in her memory. She was acutely aware when her movements passed beyond rehearsal and into the realm of delaying tactics, so she squared her shoulders and forced herself to enter the bridge. It was clearly where Kleiner spent most of his time. The room was largely free of dust and clutter, and there was a mixture of new and old technology where he’d tried to expand on the original workings. Chell eyed the bundles of trailing wires warily, hoping that he hadn’t messed things up too much for their plan to work.

There was a dated-looking console that dominated the room, where the navigational controls would have been on a regular ship. She set Wheatley down on the top of it, carefully so that they didn’t accidentally press any buttons. His optic lit the dimness a bright blue, gazing at her with open expectation.

“Have you connected with GLaDOS yet?” she asked him.

“No,” he replied at once. “Won’t take a moment.”

“Wait.” She shot out a hand, resting her fingertips on the top of his casing. “Do…do you trust her?”

Wheatley blinked at her, sparking gently and making her withdraw her hand. “Um…that’s a bit of an odd question, if I’m honest.”

“I mean…” She huffed, thinking. “Has it occurred to you that we’re potentially handing ourselves to her on a plate?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she hates you,” Chell stated bluntly. “I’ve only got her word that she kind of considers me an ally now, and we didn’t exactly part on good terms. I mean, she expressly ordered me not to come back. Now…we need her to help us destroy this thing, but we’re following her plan.”

Wheatley cottoned on to what she was saying surprisingly quickly. “You mean she could tell you to press any sequence of buttons and you wouldn’t know what you were pressing?”

“Exactly. She says she’ll tell me how to program in a time delay, but…if she doesn’t, how am I going to know? Do you see what I mean? We need to trust her, but I still don’t know if we can.”

Wheatley’s optic narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this? You’re only going to follow it up with ‘we don’t have a choice’.” His voice turned falsely high in a poor imitation of hers. “If you’re asking me whether I wanna stay here and potentially die, then I’m sure it’s going to come as a tremendous shock to you that no, I don’t particularly want to do that.” He shifted a little, emulating a throat-clearing. “I, uh, was being sarcastic there. Just in case you’re confused about why I’d think that would shock you, I don’t. Okay? Act…actually I would be shocked if you were shocked by that, to be honest.”

Chell managed to quirk a smile. “I know, I got it.”

“Bit of self-deprecating humour there,” Wheatley added. “Being as I’m such a moron and all. Ah, sarcasm. Love it.”

“Can we get back on topic?” Chell asked with mild exasperation. “We are actually talking about something serious. Avoiding it isn’t going to help.”

“I wasn’t avoiding it,” he said defensively, “I just…I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t want to die, but you probably figured that out already. You’ve always been really good at figuring things out. If you’re asking me whether I trust…Her…then no, I don’t. She wants to kill me, she’s said as much, but…I don’t know. You two got really chummy while she was a potato, so who knows where you stand now.”

“Exactly,” Chell muttered, drumming her fingertips on the console.

There was a long moment of silence while she weighed up her options, steadily watched by an edgy Wheatley, who was broadcasting his nervousness clearly in his twitchy optic movements. Eventually, decision made, she sighed and opened her mouth to speak.

“We have no choice,” Wheatley interjected before she could get a word out. “The ship has to be destroyed because we don’t want another disaster like this war that everyone’s always going on about. We’re the only ones who can do that because we need instructions from Her, so we have to stay put. It doesn’t matter if we die in the process because humanity will be saved. It’s all for the bloody greater good, which apparently makes it all okay.” He fixed her with a steady look. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Chell stared at him for a moment, curbing her surprise. “Pretty much. Minus the ‘bloody’.”

“Knew it,” he mumbled. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a hero complex?”

Chell’s reply was cut off by Alyx appearing in the doorway. “What do you mean you might die in the process?” she said sharply, frowning.

“There’s a slight possibility,” Chell told her. “But you’ll be outside, you’ll be safe.”

“Are you saying that there’s a chance we might teleport this thing to the bottom of the ocean with you still aboard it?”

“If our informant chooses not to program in a time delay, then yes, that could happen.”

Alyx sent her a troubled glance. “There are other ways to deal with this. I’m sure we can rig up explosives from stuff in the lab.”

“No,” Chell said quickly. “We don’t know what kind of materials are in here, it could trigger something worse if we try and blow it up. Draining the fuel and teleporting it away is the best solution.”

“Not if it kills you!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she said truthfully. “When I weigh up the facts…but there’s always a strand of doubt. Particularly considering…our past. So, you need to go and wait outside where it’s safe, and hopefully we’ll join you soon.”

Alyx looked highly sceptical, but she nodded. Chell was surprised by how quickly she backed down, but then she remembered that Alyx must have lived a harsh life with the resistance movement. Self-sacrifice had most likely been a frequent occurrence.

“Does Doug know about this?” Alyx asked her, eyebrows pointedly raised.

Chell shook her head. “I don’t think it’s occurred to him,” she admitted. “If…if it goes badly…” Her mind flooded with hundreds of things she wanted to say to him, but she settled on what was truly important. “Don’t let him go back to Aperture,” she said finally.

Alyx nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting in a tiny smile. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you.”

“The place is clear,” Alyx reported, business-like. “I’ll be out by the lab. You’d better come join me soon.”

Chell smiled tightly. “We’ll do our best.”

Alyx sent her a respectful nod, then left the bridge. Chell listened as her quiet footsteps got quieter, then turned her attention to Wheatley.

“Connect to GLaDOS,” she ordered softly.

“You can’t make me,” the core told her, not snappishly, but rather as if he’d just come to the realisation himself.

“I know,” Chell acknowledged. “But if you don’t, I’ll just have to try and figure this thing out myself. In which case, we will almost certainly die.”

Wheatley rolled his optic in response, but the lack of a deluge of words made her think that he was actually doing as she’d said. It wasn’t long before he reported that GLaDOS was on hand.

Without either of them giving away their concerns about being left on the ship, Chell and Wheatley followed her instructions. For Chell it was a matter of pride, but she suspected it was fear that kept the talkative core silent.

GLaDOS was surprisingly good at giving clear, concise directives, for all that she’d apparently enjoyed being deliberately difficult while Chell had been in the test chambers. Wheatley was obviously repeating everything word for word, as he offered no additional comments or any touch of his own personality. Chell found herself grateful for that. It would only have convinced her even more that she was woefully out of her depth.

She toiled steadily, unscrewing the panel on the front of the console’s stand, revealing the bizarre inner workings. GLaDOS was following the original blueprints that she’d allegedly located in her databanks, and Chell hoped fervently that Kleiner hadn’t messed around with things too much. Considering his lack of progress, she thought it was unlikely. At GLaDOS’s behest, she freed a large glass cylinder of syrupy yellow liquid, tugging it away from the console.

“You need to pour it all out except for an inch or so,” Wheatley reported to her. “That’ll be enough for one trip.”

“What is this stuff?” Chell couldn’t help asking, cringing as she carefully tipped it into a nearby empty coffee mug.

Wheatley parroted her question, paused for the reply, then said, “It’s a concentrated fuel substance that powers the portal-maker thingy and lets it make portals big enough to transport a vessel of this size.”

“Portal-maker thingy? Is that a technical term?”

Wheatley managed to look disgruntled. “She said she put it in layman’s terms because we won’t understand otherwise. Um…personally, I think she’s probably right.”

Chell couldn’t help snorting in response. “Probably.”

Job done, she carefully put the cylinder back in place, gripping the console to get back to her feet. Wheatley passed her the next set of instructions, and she found she could follow them quite clearly thanks to GLaDOS taking the time to describe each button she needed to press. In any other situation she’d have been suspicious of the helpful behaviour, but she knew that GLaDOS didn’t mess around when it came to Aperture inventions and their reputation.

She had to actively force herself not to hesitate while she programmed the console, but she was reassured by the fact that – to her amateur eyes – it looked as if GLaDOS was keeping to her promise. The old-fashioned monitor flashed up a location in the middle of the Atlantic when she typed in the coordinates, and when she gave herself a full minute to get out before it activated, a comforting 60 appeared at the side of the screen.

“All you need to do now is press the green button,” Wheatley told her. “So, uh…go ahead and do that when you’re ready, I guess. She’s disconnected now.”

Chell exchanged a long look with the personality core, but he offered no more of his opinions on the subject.

“We’re doing the right thing,” she spoke up. “You know that, right?”

“Will that make me feel any better if this all goes tits up?” he asked.

His tone made her smile against her will, and she offered him a shrug. “I don’t know. It might.”

“Great,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “That’s…so good.”

Chell didn’t allow herself to think of Doug, knowing that it would be too big a test for her composure. Instead, she lifted Wheatley off the console, gripping him by his top handle, and said softly, “Ready?”

“I suppose so.”

As she hovered her finger over the green button, the core made an additional noise that almost made her jump.

“Actually,” he began, and Chell inwardly groaned. “No, I’m not ready. But…I’m never going to be ready. Gotta just…y’know…do it anyway. So…so go ahead and press the button. You’ve always been a compulsive button-pusher, haven’t you? So go ahead and press it, and then use those legs of yours to get us out of here. Okay?”

“That is the plan,” she told him wryly.

Before he had time to answer, before she could overthink what she was doing or debate whether she should have told Doug, Chell jabbed her finger on the button.

She stayed put in the bridge just long enough to see the lights on the console flicker to life. The number 60 had just become 59 when she started running. Under her breath she recited the list of rights and lefts that she’d memorised, but the console had drained all available power, leaving the corridors in half light. It was more disconcerting than Chell had considered, resulting in a few near misses with the turns.

Finally, however, she was running down the long straight to the door. Except…the door wasn’t there.

Skidding to a halt, she hissed a frantic curse.

“Left!” piped up Wheatley. “Go back and turn left!”

Fresh out of back-up plans, Chell spun on her heel and did as she was told. Wheatley yelped more directions at her until she found herself back on the route to the door. This time, she could see it standing open in front of her.

Her internal countdown had gotten horribly skewed during her lapse in concentration, but she guessed she had single digits left.

The ship was humming around her, powering up its systems in preparation to jump. Wheatley kept up a steady stream of panicked babble that Chell tried to block out. Then she was out, stumbling across the unsteady wooden gangplank as a fierce wind whipped around her.

“It’s opening the portal!” Wheatley hollered at her. “Get out of range of the pull!”

Ahead, Chell saw Alyx clinging on to a girder on the far wall of the hangar. Gordon was beside her, bodily restraining Kleiner who was clearly trying to reach the Borealis. They were shouting, but she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the ship.

Doug was much closer, keeping a white-knuckled grip on a ceiling support strut, and she fought to reach him. The tug from the opening portal snatched at her hair and clothes, making her progress slow. Too slow.

Doug’s outstretched hand was too far away. With a desperate lunge forward, Chell threw out the arm holding Wheatley. Doug grabbed his lower handle, his expression tight with determination. Wheatley yelped in shock.

There was an explosion of noise behind her, and Chell found herself dragged off her feet, her back damp from the spray of the Atlantic that was spilling through the portal. She clung on to Wheatley, eyes wide and terrified. With a spike of panic she was reminded of another time, not too long ago, when she’d been in a similar position, body out in the depths of space, the frantic personality core her only lifeline.

“Let go! Let go! I’m still connected, I can pull myself in!”

Doug’s voice cut through her memories with a yell. “Don’t let go! Do you hear me, Chell? Don’t let go!”

Wheatley added his own shouts to the mix. “Aarrrgh! I wasn’t designed to be used like this!”

If she hadn’t been busy being terrified for her life, Chell would have shot him a glare.

“You’d better bloody hang on!” he yelled. “I don’t want you damaging my handles for nothing!”

“Not much longer!” Doug added. “Hold on!”

As much as she desperately wanted to obey them, her hands had other ideas.

“I can’t!” she gasped in alarm. “Doug, I can’t!”

“You have to!”

With a cry, her numb fingers slipped from the handle, and she was tugged backwards.

“No!” she heard Doug shout. “Chell!”  

A blinding flash of light filled the hangar, and she screwed her eyes shut against it, curling herself into a ball. Fists clenched, she waited for the inevitable embrace of the freezing water and the cold blackness that would follow.