#and then launched into one of the longest answers hes ever given

[aristhought]

it's just been unreal

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.235 thoughts

[That's the POWER of LOVE!!!]

(Topics: lore - the Gods, character analysis - the Gods/Union/Soul, thematic analysis - love)

Listen. I know that I used that joke last week, but that was one of the section titles, not the main title. So it's fine. Don't even worry about it

Who Created the Creator

This chapter opens with the answer to one of the longest-standing questions of the series: why did Sun and Luna create the world?

Based on how all of the UMAs have talked about it, we had previously concluded that it was all a matter of entertainment, that they existed in nothingness and needed enrichment. While there may still be some truth to this in the moment-to-moment decisions over the course of their game, the truth is far less arbitrary

Sun and Luna are not, in fact, the first beings to exist, they are simply the first to exist in this plane. They were banished here after losing some kind of conflict, a theomachy with beings presumably comparable to them, and then tasked with raising their own world from scratch as either punishment or a chance at redemption

Based on the dialogue, it would seem that the other Gods had created their own world or worlds, but Sun disagreed with their approach. Sun desires to be worshipped, a world where God is almighty and all of Creation looks to Him for mercy and salvation, but more importantly, he wants to prove that this approach is correct. This implicitly tells us that, from the other Gods' perspectives, Sun's methods were deemed to be wrong, and when push came to shove, he wasn't able to compete with their Creations

What role Luna played in the theomachy is still unclear, and I'm not sure if Tozuka plans to delve into it, but my guess is that she agreed with Sun, at least for a time. Her assumption about their exile is that it's meant to be a learning experience, one that will allow them to grow, demonstrating an openness to change that Sun simply lacks

At first, this conversation implied to me that Sun never actually had any interest in "the Greatest Life Ever," as Luna's line about "reaching a form of strength that neither of us know of" seems to fit with that idea much better than Sun's desire to be worshipped, but looking at it with that perspective, I think I have a better understanding of it now. I think that Sun wants to create a life that surpasses anything the other Gods ever did, to create something that can defeat them and make them suffer the same humiliation that he did

Luna, on the other hand, while she does want to be entertained, seems invested in figuring out what caused her and Sun's downfall. I think her creation of Soul was meant to design their mortals with the capacity to change just like the other Gods intended for her and Sun, giving a new meaning to making life in God's image. Luna understands the ideas behind what the other Gods created, the mechanism of change and the emotion of love, but she doesn't quite understand their purpose or their effect. This is why she gave people the capacity for each: to study those effects specifically

How perfect, then, that this final battle serves as an excellent case study for both

Memory Lane

To charge up The Heart with Fuuko's love, everyone in the Union declares their gratitude to her and how she's changed their lives over the last two Loops

Admittedly, I'm a little unclear on whether that first big blast was from The Heart or from the Xiang family, but given that Andy only comments on the glow and not the blast, I'm inclined to think it's the latter. It doesn't really matter either way, but I prefer the idea that Shen and co. were able to launch that big of a soul blast on their own, especially since everyone else was apparently landing big enough hits to tear up Sun's body, so I think it's more impactful for them to have gotten their own hit in

Regardless, this whole sequence is beautiful; not only is it a heartfelt retrospective of the whole series, the structure is a perfect mirror of the story

Shen

We start with Shen because he was the very first member of the Union that Fuuko met. When we first met Shen, he was a tease and a flirt, as if he was ignoring his feelings for Mui for fear of losing sight of his goal of getting stronger. He was so single-minded in that goal that he was willing to sacrifice his friends, if he even thought of them as friends in the first place. After losing his sister, he desired strength solely for revenge, and was willing to give anything to get it

Now, thanks to Fuuko's influence, strength itself is no longer Shen's goal, but merely a tool to protect what matters most: his family. His sister is alive, he can be honest about his feelings Mui, and he even has a fairly healthy father-son relationship with Feng. All of the love that was denied to him previously is now his primary motivator, a theme that we see in our next group as well

Rip and Latla

Rip and Latla are next as the first major antagonistic Negators while also having a clear narrative throughline with Shen. Though not explicitly motivated by revenge, they were similarly motivated by loss in such a way that they completely abandoned the rest of the world, without a care as to whole lived or died in pursuit of their own goals

In line with Latla's Untrust, their arc is defined by their inability to let anyone else carry the weight of their goal, sometimes not even each other. It's thanks to Fuuko and Andy that not only were they able to save Leila, but also to do so without compromising their own morals and finding the ability to rely on others. Despite being their most persistent rivals, Fuuko allowed them to join the Union, allowing them to rejoin the humanity that they had abandoned. This forgiveness in turn resonates with their former boss

Billy

Believing everyone else to be too weak to fight, Billy created Under specifically to shoulder the weight of the world alone. Instead of finding strength in numbers, Billy tried to concentrate everyone's abilities and roles into himself to become the single strongest Negator

Thanks to Fuuko, Billy learned that not only is the Union stronger than the sum of its parts, but each individual part is far stronger than he ever gave them credit for. Because the Billy of L101 was able to acknowledge the strength of others, Unfair gained the ability to function through respect rather than hatred, allowing Billy to use it as part of a team rather than necessitating him to villainize himself

This change between Loops then becomes the connecting thread for our remaining recollections

Gina and Sean

Gina is the first Negator that Fuuko officially recruited in L101, and both her and Sean are the ones who died so that she may live through L100. This leads to the two of them arguing about which of them grew more between the two Loops: Gina, who changed both times, or Sean, who never really got to see the previous world but ended up becoming an integral part of this one

This gives one more connection for their ongoing dynamic while also highlighting the things that make them both such great characters. Gina's obsession with Fuuko, Sean's need to be the center of attention, and how both of them have found purpose and fulfillment that they were never able to previously

Their bout of oneupmanship then inspires the rest of the Union to chime in to get a word in edgewise, all shouting for Fuuko's attention so that she would know how much they all love her. The woman who once believed herself to be unlovable, now surrounded by love on all sides

And that just makes what's happening all the more confusing for Luna

What is Love?

As I said, Luna knows what love is conceptually, she knows how important it is to humanity, but that makes the idea of sacrificing it incomprehensible to her

From her perspective, the Union is purposefully throwing away their precious friend, joyously betraying the very love that is meant to save them. The sadistic choice that The Heart was meant to represent has instead been embraced with open arms, and Luna just can't wrap her head around it

If only Luna had been paying attention to the series' themes and motifs, she might have reach an understanding of it by now

There wasn't a single person present acting in the interest of their own life

In the fight with Rip, the goal wasn't to heal Fuuko, it was to stop Rip from killing Chikara and any future Negators he would go after in the name of Under. Rip was a greater threat that needed to be stopped, even if it killed those present. Sun is the same way - no one is worried about making it out of this fight, they're only worried about making a world for everyone else they care about to live in

Death, loss, and grief are a natural part of life. It's normal to be saddened by a loss, but acceptance is a natural part of the process. Fuuko has already made up her mind to give all of herself for the world and her friends, so all that's left for anyone to do is see her off with a smile. This moment, the death of the Fuuko we know, is the Greatest Death Ever

But even after that death, it won't be the end. The Fuuko they knew, her soul, will continue to live on in all of them, and the Fuuko they don't know will still be around to make new memories with, as established last week. This is the other factor that Luna never anticipated: as a resource, love is Unlimited

Honestly, I won't even be surprised if Fuuko keeps her memories for this very reason - the memories that everyone charged The Heart with aren't being erased from history. They still happened, and the proof of each event persists in the lives that everyone now lives. Their love is inexhaustible, never-ending...

Undying

Even if Fuuko forgets, I can feel in my bones that something along those lines will help to bring her back by the end, even if it's the very last page of the series

Because Luna can't understand the true nature of love, she couldn't possibly see this coming. She couldn't fathom love making the Union strong enough to best Sun physically, so why should she be able to predict the effect that using The Heart will actually have?

Naturally, because Love as a concept exists independently of God's Rules, Soul can't understand it either

Lonesome Soul

Soul caps off the chapter with the claim that the Rule of Love means nothing to him, that what he's currently experiencing is completely lost on him. The source of the Union's power, the strength of their souls, is a concept that is absolutely foreign to Soul, despite the fact that he's been present for every Rule introduced during the game

This is why he couldn't understand how Julia connected her soul with the rest of the Union: she wasn't using a natural aspect of the Rule of Souls, she was using the Rule of Love. This is why he couldn't get Kururu's Unchaste to overcome Raita's feelings for Kaede: he couldn't understand that relationships aren't born from "chastity," they're born from love

This is why Soul hasn't entered Phase 3: the souls of the other Master Rules, his so-called friends, don't live on through him. He holds them in high regard, but he doesn't love them, and he doesn't believe that memory keeps someone alive. That's not a mechanic of the Rule of Souls, so it's something he simply can't do, as that would require the Rule as it stands to change, an acknowledgment that the Rule itself is imperfect

Changing the Rules is not the purview of the Rules themselves, nor is it even that of the Gods who create new Rules: it is the purview of humanity, who have the power to interpret and wield the Rules

Love is a Rule that humanity created to give purpose to their Souls. Love is what makes Death and loss meaningful. Love is what motivates one to Change. Love is the Luckiest thing a person can find. People have gone to War for Love. They base their visions of Justice on Love, cultivate Love over Time, communicate Love through Language. Love can be given to Beasts, and Love can even heal Sickness

All of the UMAs and Negators control their Rules through the soul, but only the Negators have gained the power to enhance their souls through love. They live by their own Rule, and through love, have found the greatest way to enjoy what life has to offer

Next week will be the end of the battle, and Soul's final chance to learn this lesson. Whether he does or doesn't will certainly be the fuel for my final analysis of his character, though that may come in one of the epilogue chapters depending on how Tozuka chooses to play this climax. Personally, though, I hope he learns to love the other Master Rules when he meets them in Subspace

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

[writesaboutdragons]

365 Promises of God

Day 322 – We Will Beat Swords into Plows

He shall judge between many peoples, And rebuke strong nations afar off; They shall beat their swords into plowshares, And their spears into pruning hooks; Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, Neither shall they learn war anymore. (Mic 4:3 NKJV)

Read: Micah 4:1-3

In recent news, the Ukraine launched several US-supplied long-range ATACM, after being given permission by the US president, deep into Russia. We had been warned that any such action would be answered in kind, and ran the risk of escalating the regional conflict into another world war. Two days later, Russia launched an ICBM with MIRV capability into Ukraine. While this missile did not deploy nuclear bombs, it certainly had the capability, and gave a clear signal to quit ��poking the bear’.

About six weeks ago, we discussed World Peace, and how for the last thousand years, we haven’t had a day of it. In fact, throughout ancient history, the longest period of declared peace was the Pax Romana, which lasted from 27BC to 180AD. However, noted historian Walter Goffart observed, "The volume of the Cambridge Ancient History for the years AD 70–192 is called 'The Imperial Peace', but peace is not what one finds in its pages".

In fact, we’ve also discussed the horrific Roman response to the uprising in Jerusalem in 70AD, prophesied by Jesus. That was arguably worse than the Babylonian invasion, at least in reference to loss of life and human suffering. So, World Peace is not what we should expect here, because we are, mostly, selfish, unloving and angry brutes, and any human reading this might be a little angry I’m calling us out on it.

But the prophet Micah in around 700BC wrote down a promise from God that we’d beat our swords into plows. It doesn’t seem possible that this would ever happen, but God will make it so, when the Millennial Kingdom comes, and the Lord Jesus Christ reigns in his rightful place as ruler of All. Even that peace is not going to last forever, as at the end of the Millennium, there will be a last and final battle, when the devil pulls out all the stops in a desperate attempt to take over the world, a campaign even HE knows is a losing battle.

Jesus is the Prince of Peace. And wherever He reigns, there WILL be peace! So, dear Christian, let the Lord reign in your heart by faith, and even when the world sits on the brink of war, you can still have peace.

Prayer:

Lord Jesus, grant me your peace, as you reign in my heart, today. Amen

[jimblejamblewritings]

the fake date plot | part 3.

Summary: Gryffindors, seventh years, classmates, unrequited love. Just a few things Y/N and James Potter had in common. When a brilliantly dumb plan is hatched the two end up getting something a little different than what they wanted.

Warnings for the Series: literally none that I can think of this is supposed to be just good fluffy fun

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: there is music in this chapter so here's a spotify playlist —> click here

Previous Part | (Series Chapter List)

You waved Alice over to the Gryffindor table when she came down for breakfast. The two of you were always early. After realizing your roommates weren’t morning people, you started to sneak to breakfast and avoid the squeaky dip in the floor right before the door. It was always you and Alice in the mornings for about twenty minutes before even the professors came to eat. Your friend sat down right in front of you. 

“You know my friend, Lucille, right?” she asked as she piled her plate with breakfast pastries. 

“Yeah. The girl with the mullet?” 

“Yes. Great, so she’s telling me that Xeno was staring at you the entire time at the party and complaining about you leaving with James. So now, we just want to know what’s going on between you two?” 

“I was drunk off my rocker. All he did was help me, James and I are just friends.” 

That word felt oddly right in your mouth. You and James were acting but a real friendship seemed to be forming. Since you both were going to come clean to Xeno and Lily once reaching your goals, you’d be happy to be real friends when the whole situation was over. 

Although keeping up appearances without someone else to know the secret was kind of draining. You wanted to tell Alice. You thought so as you and your friend walked to class. Maybe just maybe you could tell Alice.

Of course, you’d have to talk about it with James first. He’d probably want to tell the marauders. And you couldn’t tell Dorcas by any means. Because Dorcas talked a lot and she would tell Lily by complete accident and ruin the plan. You bent down to get your books out of your leather school bag and prepare for Charms. 

“Hey, so I’m thinking we go to Hogsmeade this weekend like the whole group. Of course, I’ll have to see if James isn’t asking Lily out. Although, I’m starting to be friends with the others I think so maybe Peter and Si—” 

You looked up to see Xeno instead of Alice sitting next to you. He gave you a smile that you meekly returned. 

“Is that an invitation for me?” 

You nodded. “Do you like karaoke?” 

You honestly didn’t hear Xeno’s answer. He sat next to you for the rest of the class and you had a hard time focusing. Maybe James’ plan was actually working. This was the longest conversation you ever had with the man next to you. The moment class ended and Xeno and Alice left you for their classes, you ran to the quidditch pitch to try and find James. 

He usually practiced or went over plays in his free time before lunch. You guys had given each other your school schedules on the first day so you could speak with each other privately or meet at different classrooms. James was right where you expected him, polishing his broom and cleaning the end of it. He grunted in surprise when you launched yourself at him, arms around his neck. 

“Xeno wants to go to karaoke, we have to move the date up to this weekend!” 

James left as he moved you off him. “Did you tell him we were going on a group date this weekend?” 

“Well, I thought I was talking to Alice but I turned around and it was him and I panicked.” 

“Okay, we’ll make it this weekend. You know, I’m glad this plan is working for one of us.” 

“Has Lily still not budged?” 

He shook his head. You tried to comfort James but it didn’t work. He put up the polish and held out a hand to help you off the bench. The two of you started the walk back to the castle. James looked at you multiple times before finally opening his mouth. 

“I know this is shitty of me but can we continue the karaoke plan even if Xeno asks you out? It’s just I’m not getting anywhere and I’m not sure why and Lily doesn’t se—” 

“Prongs.” You tried to shut him up. “Yeah, we can continue. I’m only having luck because of your plan.” 

“Thanks.” 

You linked your arm in his. “Don’t mention it. Come on, we’re totally going to get our people.” 

“Totally.” 

“Skip with me, Jamie.” 

“Of course, my lady.” 

The two of you skipped through the halls until you made it back to Gryffindor, ignoring the stares of the other students. People were bound to talk about it which would only help your case but you found you didn’t care. You wanted to stop thinking of James as just a coworker for the plot and more like a buddy. 

You told James, when the two of you reached the Gryffindor Tower, that you would ask Lily to Hogsmeade instead of him. She was more likely to go with roommates instead of a boy she knows has a crush on her. The moment your roommates found out it was karaoke night at the small pub next to Three Broomsticks, they were down. 

They also insisted on dressing you the moment you mentioned that Xeno was in the group of people going. You pulled down at the tight silk slip dress going barely past your butt that Dorcas had lent you. She swatted your hand before you reached the entrance of the school, insisting you looked great. 

Everyone else met you a few minutes after. Despite this being the start of how you guys were supposed to date, you and James walked with your crushes to Hogsmeade. You were up at the front and he was in the back of the group. You wondered if your friend was having better luck than you. Xeno was complimenting you but you were just unsure how to respond. Maybe you should have gone over flirting with James before the weekend had arrived. 

The group reached the small pub where almost no one else was. Three Broomsticks was way more popular but usually the small pub also had customers. Peter looked in the window of Broomsticks to see a bunch of people gathered around a stage. The Sugar Quills were playing and everyone was listening to them. You all shrugged. Sure, listening to the band would be fun but now you all had the small pub all to yourselves. 

The bartender seemed to be happy to see customers and greeted you all. You took the couch up at the front, overjoyed it was finally free for once. As expected, Sirius was first to the karaoke machine while you all were ordering drinks and food. You were curious what he was going to pick. A lot of muggle songs were covered by wizard bands or just got popular that his pick was the luck of the draw. 

You slapped a hand to your mouth when the first notes of Lady Marmalade started playing. The marauders looked at the rest of you. 

“He’s tone deaf,” Peter explained. “But loves singing.” 

Remus nodded. “Every day in the shower, under his breath, loves duets. Don’t worry, you can laugh. He’s already told us he doesn’t mind the laughter, he actually likes it cause it means you’re paying attention and enjoying the performance. It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s bad but he just thinks he’s not a strong singer.” 

“We haven’t had the heart to tell him the truth,” James said before turning to cheer his friend on. 

After their explanation, you all got comfortable and enjoyed Sirius’ performance. It was horrible singing but he looked so happy. He couldn’t dance either. That somehow made it so much more endearing. His arms were just flailing and his knees were shaking. But Sirius could strut like any runway model. He finished the performance with a spin before handing the mic to Mary. 

Between bites of sliders, fries, nachos, and desserts, you enjoyed everyone’s singing. Mary’s I Will Survive made the bartender dance. Lily found the trunk of accessories and costumes for karaoke to perform September which she put on a funny voice for.

She passed the mic to Alice’s other Hufflepuff friend who grabbed the group of Puffs to sing Hotel California on inflatable instruments. Alice stayed on stage to sing Superstition with her inflatable piano. She handed you the mic and your roommates cheered you on as you held up both hands and shuffled your way to the stage. You shuffled through all the songs available which was basically every single one. 

“I’m not a good singer,” you murmured into the mic as you picked a song. “Okay, this one.” 

It was a French song you knew because one of your childhood neighbors was an older French couple who moved to Uk because the wife was working in the Ministry of Magic as a liaison between the UK Ministry and France’s Circle of Magic. It wasn’t a dancing song, making you worried that you wouldn’t be as entertaining as everyone else so far. But Tous les garçons et les filles was a song that you were comfortable with. 

The others swayed on the couches and armchairs as you sang softly. Your smile got bigger when Sirius started singing with you, eyes closed, as he swayed on the couch. Bless him. The beautiful solo turned duet ended with soft claps from your friends before you handed the mic to Xeno. His hand covered yours, fingers rubbing slightly before continuing to the small stage. You didn’t know he was a fan of The Turtles but there he was singing Happy Together.  

“Do you mind if I sing another?” 

“Let’s go!” Sirius shouted, making all of you laugh. 

“Perfect.” Xeno ran a hand through his hair. “Frank, boys. Want to help me out?” 

Everyone ooh’d at the notion of backup singers. People made their own plans to do backup for each other. Frank Longbottom stood at the front of the backup crew, hands on his hips in a sassy pose as if he was born ready for this exact moment.

Xeno faced the back so he could dramatically turn around when it was time to sing Somebody to Love. You felt your cheeks get hot as you blushed from the song. It felt like he was staring right at you for most of the song. Or were you making it all up? He was definitely staring, right?  

The boys left Frank on stage at his request of being the next singer. He took your route of performing a slower song. Dorcas was the first to pull out her wand and let the tip of it light up ever so slightly as Frank continued his performance of Tiny Dancer. You, Mary, and Lily squealed when he approached Alice and held her hand. Frank had always been an unnoticed sweetheart that you guys couldn’t help but melt at his gesture. He ended the song and gave it back to Alice. 

She grabbed Mary and forced her onstage to do a duet of Ain’t No Mountain High. They swapped out Alice and added Marlene and Lily to perform Proud Mary. The girls forced all of you off the couch to dance which you did.

You shimmied shoulders with James before turning to Xeno and dancing with him a little. The song ended and James was up next. He looked Lily in the eye as he took the mic that was in her hands even though Marle was closer. She looked away quickly, almost nervous. 

James picked Build Me Up Buttercup. His singing voice was deeper than you thought it would be. You smiled as you watched him direct his attention to Lily who seemed to be enjoying it but wasn’t making any moves. James sat next to her and gave the mic to Xeno’s friends. He wasn’t listening too hard as they sang I Want You Back or when Dorcas sang L-O-V-E or when Peter sang I’m a Believer. However, Lily didn’t move much closer to him but she did give him a smile. 

You all laughed when Marlene picked I’m Coming Out. Sirius informed you she sings that at every opportunity despite coming out every other week since fourth year. She gave the stage to Remus who was the only person that hadn’t performed since y’all been there. The songs were coming to an end and you all would probably leave after thirty minutes or so of talking. Your mouth dropped open when Remus opened his mouth to sing It’s Not Unusual. 

Sirius nodded as he leaned over. “Voice of an angel that one.” 

“No kidding.” 

You shivered, rubbing up and down your arms after Xeno took a short run to the bathroom. James moved over when he spotted you out of the corner of his eyes. You looked away from Remus’ stellar performance for a moment to see a sweater underneath your nose. James was now in a t-shirt. 

“You seemed uncomfortable too,” he whispered. 

“The girls picked this outfit. It’s cute but I don’t think I’m drunk enough to wear it.” 

He laughed. “That the only reason you accepted my outfit?” 

“I took four shots before you even arrived at our dorm.” 

“Four shots? No wonder you were blackout by the end of the night.” 

You were about to say something else but the two of you were interrupted by Remus calling the boys on stage. James left the couch while you put on his jumper. You never thought you would see the day that the marauders plated Y.M.C.A.

How many times had they sung the song? Because they had a whole routine that didn’t seem to be made up on the spot. No one was looking at one person to follow the moves they were doing. This was an entire production. James tapped his head three times and you knew it was the signal. 

Nervous was an understatement as you approached the stage when the marauders finished their song. Remus winked at you and you would have thought he knew what you and James were doing but that was impossible. It was time for the acting performance of your life. James and you had to look in love to everyone else but simultaneously oblivious to each other. Easier said than done. 

Naturally, you picked Crocodile Rock. Not quite the romantic duet but it was one of your favorite songs and the most comfortable for acting. You and James spun around, held hands, danced like you were in your own world.

When Alice choked on her drink after James dipped you, you thought you might actually convince them. James didn’t linger on stage, giving the mic to Peter the moment the song ended. Peter, in a bit  of shock, called Dorcas and Mary up with him. The three of you laughed when he picked Play That Funky Music — a perfect way to end karaoke. 

Everyone talked a little after before the whole group left the pub to head back to the castle. Being a seventh year was great, there was basically no curfew as long as you had your id on you to check back in with whoever was at the front.

Everyone had kind of defaulted back to walking with their friend group, except you and James who were now at the very front of the pack. You stumbled a little at the end of the Hogsmeade oath. James held your elbow to stop you from face planting completely. 

“You and platforms are clearly not friends.” 

“Shut up.” You made it only two steps before tripping again over a branch. “I’m sorry, help me please.” 

James laughed as he took off his shoes. You raised your eyebrows as he told you to take your shoes off. James switched with you, charming the platforms so they would fit properly on his feet. 

“Can you even wa…” 

He had no problems making it back to the castle. He didn’t even have problems making it up the stairs. You didn’t follow the rest of the Gryffindors, making sure Alice got back to Hufflepuff then the Ravenclaws made it to their tower. You paused outside of Ravenclaw common room when Xeno stopped. He turned to face you. 

“Tonight was a lot of fun. You should hang out with us a lot more.” 

“You were a great singer.” 

“Thank you,” Xeno said with a smile. “You were good too, I’m not lying.” 

You looked away from him for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Well, thank you. Bye.” 

“Wait, wait a minute. I’m not letting you walk to Gryffindor alone.” 

A smile crept onto your face as he walked with you. The two of you were right in step with each other up until you reached the entrance of your House. Xeno grabbed your hand. 

“You looked really nice tonight… Hey, at the party, that was your first time drinking, right?” 

“Was it that obvious?” 

“You did kind of shout it to the world.” 

“No, I was talking to James about it.” 

“You were shouting it over the music. So was that your only first?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ve shagged before? Or snogged maybe?” 

“No,” you whispered. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Nothing. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Xeno tapped your shoulder and gave you a side hug before leaving for his dorm. You felt tears start to well up. Before you knew it, the tears were streaming down your face as you stepped inside. You ran up to your dorm where almost everyone in the Gryffindor group was hanging out and playing cards. Trying to hide your face you went to your wardrobe to find some pajamas and your toiletry bag. You turned back around with a bundle of clothes in your hands, hiding half of your face. 

“What does it mean when someone says oh because the person they’re talking to hasn’t even kissed someone before?” 

Sirius shrugged, not looking up but shuffling the cards. “If they’re saying oh then they probably think the person is a loser virgin. Don’t get why that matters though… What? I don’t care if they’re a virgin or no—” 

Sirius looked up when Peter shoved him with an elbow and pointed at you. The other boy stuttered through trying to cover up what he said, not realizing you were asking because you were said person. The tears were coming down a bit harder. 

“Where’s James?” 

“Our room,” Peter said. 

Thanks barely left your throat as you left the room. You practically ran to the boys’ dorm, knocking on it softly. Groaning could be heard from the other side. James shuffled his slipper covered feet, opening the door with a bit of annoyance. You looked up at his half closed eyes. 

“I’m sorry, were you sleeping?” 

James opened his eyes when your voice sounded different. “Oh, Y/N, what happened?” 

You shook your head. “Can I just stay here for tonight?” 

James moved aside so you could come in. He had been asleep but was glad you came in because he was still in clothes from karaoke night and needed to change and properly get ready for bed. The two of you went into the bathroom. James tried to make you laugh as you both brushed your teeth, looking at each other through the mirror. He was succeeding a little bit. 

You both decided to just clean yourself up without making the other leave the bathroom. Besides, you wanted to vent with each other. James got into the shower, stripping from behind the curtain and throwing his clothes into a pile a little bit away. You got into the bathtub filled with bubble bath taken from James’ prime selection of bathing tools.

It was apple scented and clearly one of his favorites based on how empty it was. The bubbles covered all your important bits. James made the curtain levitate so it would cover his bottom half but opened the shower more so he didn’t have to shout for a conversation. 

“She gave me a side hug. A side hug! Girls don’t even give their friends side hugs, what does that mean? We are friends or supposed to be,” James said as he ran a washcloth over his body. 

“Was she weirded out when she hugged you?” 

“No.” 

“Then maybe she’s confused? We talk a lot in our dorms. I think she likes you but is concerned about how it makes her look.” 

“Huh?” 

“Well she’s spent a long time building up the perfect Head Girl image and no time for men especially you James. You are the definition of himbo jock that gets the nerdy perfect girl. It’s so cliché when you think about it.

"Next thing you know, you guys will get married at nineteen, have three kids too young and then she’ll resent you for the rest of her life and you will divorce and marry some barely legal Gryffindor to relive your glory days like the pathetic man you’d become and she’d get revenge by marrying your best-friend turned brother you turned out to be a better man than you ever were. It’s a typical fiction story whether book or movie, especially in the muggle world.” 

James laughed. “Thank you for that, bug.” 

You audibly shrugged. “We just have to show her that you’re more than a himbo jock who only cares about sports and banging the one girl he can’t have.” 

“Sounds good… and what about you?” 

“What about me? Sirius made it clear that Xeno thinks I’m some loser virgin. What do I do about that?” you asked as you finished washing up. 

“Sex isn’t the most important thing in a relationship and Xeno needs to realize that. He seems to be into your looks, that’s not the only thing. What if you guys get married then what?” 

“Are you insinuating I’m going to be an ugly sixty year old?” 

“I’m just saying sometimes looks fade. Xeno needs to see that dating is better than a one night stand or even a friend with benefits.” 

“Thanks. I guess we’re gonna start dating now?” 

“Phase two starts next Wednesday,” James confirmed. 

“How are we doing it?” 

You swore you could hear him thinking from where you were. 

“Do you mind getting drunk again?” 

“I was planning on living hangover free for the rest of my life.” 

“Can you fake it?” 

“How good of an actress do you think I am?” 

“I got it!” James clapped his hands. “Small party in our dorm, tell your roommates that they’re invited.” 

“I’m trusting you James… Okay, I’m getting out of the tub now.” 

“Eyes are closed.” 

You looked over to see he was so serious about not looking. You slipped into your pajamas, a set of shorts and a short sleeved shirt with a bunch of teddy bears on them. You hopped up on the counter to do your skincare, telling James you were dressed and he could look again. 

“Love the bears.” 

“Are you being sarcastic?” you asked as you applied toner. 

“No,” he scoffed. “Maybe I just like bears. Can you throw me my briefs?” 

“These?” 

“You don’t have to hold them like they’re soaked in basilisk venom.” 

“It’s your panties,” you said with a toss. 

“Um, ladies wear panties. These are briefs.” 

“You know in some countries they’re all panties.” 

James left the shower to put on the rest of his clothes. He stood behind you as you stayed sitting on the counter. You lifted your leg a little so he could grab his pants. You looked at him through the mirror and smiled. 

“Your curls are so pretty.” 

“Thank you. Everyone else in my family has bone straight hair but I finally started learning to take care of it. You have a lot of skin care… What?” James asked when you whipped around. 

“James Potter. This is just seven steps.” 

“SEVEN?” 

You sat on your knees and pulled your products closer to you. “Here. I’ll show you.” 

James was happy to hear he got six steps instead of seven because he had already washed his face with a cleanser. Technically with soap but you didn’t want to think about that. James listened intently as you went through the steps of toner, green tea and aloe serum, eye cream, moisturizer, and a light oil. You were positive everything was going in one ear and out the other but at least he stood still when you wiped the cotton pad of toner over his face. 

The two of you heard commotion in the dorm room. One set of footsteps followed by more sound. Remus’ voice was very loud as he asked if James was down in the common room. You pulled away for a moment so he could shout to his friends that he was in the bathroom and they could come in before returning to the aloe vera serum you were spreading on his face. 

Peter opened the door. His eyes went wide as he squeaked and then closed the door quickly. Sirius and Remus, who were looking for pajamas after using the cleaning spell on themselves because they just couldn’t be bothered to take a proper shower, looked over at him. Sirius took off his shirt, his question coming out muffled. 

“What’s the problem, Wormy?” 

Peter moved away from the door. “Y/N’s in there and Prongs is shirtless.” 

The other two boys went wide-eyed. At first they didn’t believe him but they heard James laugh from the bathroom and you yell at him to give something back before he ruins it with his grubby fingers. When the bathroom door opened, the other marauders tried to look as nonchalant as possible in their beds.

James was no longer shirtless but in a white henley but you did come out of the bathroom with him. Instead of leaving, you made him move over so you could share his bed. The room was extra quiet as the boys tried to eavesdrop. 

“Can we not bother with the pillow barrier?” you asked James. “I’m still kind of upset.” 

James opened his arms. “Come here.” 

The other three marauders heard nothing else. You and James had wanted to go to sleep after the eventful night. Besides, there was lots to plan when it was a more respectable time of the day. 

(part 4)

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[abizarreyodelingincident]

Braaaaaaains...

Jason Todd is legally – and biologically – dead. His family noted his lack of pulse at three in the morning, inside the cave, his body laid out on a table with medical instruments.

No, really, tell him something he doesn't know.

What else crawls out of a grave moaning and groaning?

Or, Jason thought his family full of the world's greatest detectives was smarter than this. Apparently not.

****************************************************************

It had been an ordinary night. Calm. The stage for very little costumed crime and barely more regular, non-insane crime as well. Half the menagerie that made up Dick's loving ragtag bunch of younger siblings had even taken the night off.

Nothing should have make him arrive to silence this thick, to this faint echo of sniffling.

He sprinted after the noise.

Damian's fine, left before me. Duke didn't go out, nor did Steph. Babs spent the evening with Cass in the cave, Tim swept the bowery and said he was going to stop by Jason's place to-

He collided with a shaking, tear stained Tim right outside the medbay.

There was a body on the closest table. Others around it, crying, pacing, muttering in denial.

Dick couldn't look.

No, no, please, please no. I can't do that again. I can't!

Scarred skin, too pale – to be Duke or Cass – by death. His breath hitched. No. He. Fuck.

He knew those scars. Those arms. That chest and that fucking Y from navel to shoulders.

“Dick! Jason... he was...  I found him in his apartment. And I brought him to the cave... but... Jason doesn't have a pulse. He's... cold...”

Dick stumbled.

No.

No, no, no, that... that couldn't be real.

He caught himself on his little brother. Brought himself into a hug too tight, as painful as the arms gripping his ribs and back. A grip meant for a lifesaving light at sea. For a safeline over a ravine.

Twice. He'd lost the same brother twice. And this time, he didn't even have the excuse of inexperience and unstable situations. He... he patrolled the city whilst his brother was dead, completely oblivious to the fact. How could he? How dare he not know?!

“Shh, Tim, I'm here. I'm here.” But not for Jason, whispered a vicious part of him.

“What's all this?”

Dick's heart just about stopped.

Damian stood at the entrance to the lockers' room, uniform folded under one arm, hair slightly damp from a shower and Bat-themed pajamas worn without shame. His mild annoyance was proof he had no idea of the drama that had happened not twenty feet from him.

With reluctance, he let go of Tim, a gentle hand lingering on his shoulder, before he took a few steps toward his youngest, most vulnerable brother.

“D-Dami, I... ”   Damn it, he had to be the one to tell Damian about this. Because otherwise, the person to break the news would be Bruce, and-

Shit.

Bruce.

Oh God. How could they possibly tell him- ? After all their fights, the goddamned shattering that had broken the man he had been, and their last conversations even being more admonishment about protocols that Jason had flippantly disregarded. Bruce would never recover. That was it. The end of Batman.

...But first, God he hated himself, wanted to just curl up in a corner and forget everything, first he had a young brother he needed to talk to. One... one little brother less than just this afternoon.

“Jason... ” He swallowed, his throat tight, his heart in denial, the words so damning, but needing to be said. “Jason did not make it. He... he's dead.”

Damian stayed thoughtfully silent.

Not... not the tearful reaction he had expected, but Damian had grown up surrounded by so much death and horror that he would obviously be guarded. And oh, Dick's heart went to his baby brother, and he truly wished he could

“I do not understand. Why such theatrics for the zombie?”

Dick gasped, knowledge warring with the flash of anger.

“Damian! He's our brother!”

“Did he lose his head?” Damian demanded, and Dick's mind buckled.

“Huh, no, but that doesn't have anything to d-”

“Then, why are you acting so weirdly emotional, Richard?”

Before Dick's temper could catch up to his mouth, the longest and most painful-sounding gasp erupted from the medbay, where, to the general shock of all, Jason's gray-ish body shot upward with both his arms raised.

Electroshocks didn't make you jolt like that.

Electroshocks, in fact, remained in their kit on the other side of the medbay, unused. Because Jason had seemingly been dead long before he had been brought to the cave.

That was roughly the moment when Dick's brain caught up with the first of many hints. Latched onto it with a fool's hope.

“... Damian... When you were calling Jason a 'zombie', what did you mean?”

Damian's brows scrunched up together, a look he meant to be intimidating, but had more in common with a disgruntled kitten. “Exactly that, Richard. Do we not have files on zombies in the computer? Dead bodies walking about animated by unholy powers?”

Jason's not- Dick forced the half formed thought to a halt. For once, he rather wanted to be very, very wrong in how he perceived his family.

“What's with all the noise? Can't someone try to sleep like the dead without screaming?” Jason groused. “Should have gotten myself buried ag-OOF!”

“JASON!” screamed the hysterical teenager that had launched himself at a very lively dead body.

“Huhh? Hi, Timmy?” Jason said blearily, ruffling Tim's hair, eyebags suspiciously prominent. “... Fear gas?”

The blinking slowed, the fog of sleep drifting away as he silently begged the rest of them for an answer.

Happily provided by a still crying Tim. “I thought you were gone!”

“What is dead may never die,” Jason quipped, his mouth twisting in that cocksure grin from his Robin days.

And Dick wanted nothing more than to stop right there, pass out from the relief and joy of his little brother being alive and kicking, but...

But... 

That joke. One of many morbidly unfunny jokes and puns.

Bone-deep fatigue crushed his back. A bitter curse for whatever higher forces messing with them echoed strongly inside his skull, before he gave in to the inevitable and inhaled a few times for patience.

“Jason. We thought you were dead-dead.”

With prickly, hedgehog style affection, Jason pushed Tim back and stood up, stretching. “Come off it, Goldie. I wasn't even decapitated. I mean, if you were really worried, you could have just called a necromancer or something.” His expression hardened. “But if you ever call a necromancer on my ass, I'll shoot your perfect glutes.”

Yup, yup, yup, this is happening.

Tim finally wiped the rest of the tears away, helped by one of Stephanie's handkerchiefs, when he froze. “Wait. Your skin's still pale as a corpse.”

The flicker of amusement in Jason's eyes killed it for Dick.

God, how could they have all been this idiotic? If Wally ever learned about this – Shit, did Roy and Kory know before him?!

They were going to laugh their asses off at him.

Jason, unaware of the world recalibration happening in his poor big brother's mind, shrugged and rolled his shoulders – who creaked suspiciously loudly, more like rusty hinges than normal body parts. “Eh, I'm just a bit hungry. Nothing a meal or two won't fix and get some blood flowing back under my s-”

“You're a zombie.”

They turned toward him.

“Way to cross the finish line on time, Mister Rabbit,” Jason drawled.

Barbara, for once, looked completely unprepared. “A zombie,” she repeated, dazed.

Stephanie's nervous giggle died out when she noticed the lack of humor. “... No!”

Cassandra furiously looked down, muttering in her fist. Duke, by contrast, had the expression of a person stuck in a very awkward nightmare.

Even Jason's good-natured ribbing faded in when faced only with the distant screeched of bats. “... Hm, guys, bats, roostery, parasites and octopi? This is old news. What's with all the... ”

He vaguely gestured at their faces.

“Old news?” Tim rasped like he was being strangled.

“I came back from the dead years ago! Come on! Am I in a parallel universe? Hey, Demon Brat,” Jason called, baffled, “you knew, right? I didn't imagine that, right?!”

“Of course, Todd. Mother informed me of everything. Besides, Grandfather's interest in your state of being was of interest for a few weeks. How could I have been ignorant about your zombified state of being?”

In the corner of his eyes, Dick noticed Tim's, Barbara's and Cassandra's expressions all pinching in displeasure. In a way, Dick was reassured. He hadn't been the target of a family-wide hoax to discredit him as an attentive and loving eldest brother. No, he was just naturally blind, apparently.

“He knew?” Tim growled, like it was a personal failing of the fabric of time and space.

Damian's tone was the exact opposite. “And none of you realized...?”

Dick squirmed. “I... huh... you see...”

His baby brother eyed him, completely unimpressed, and for once after years of partnership, Dick felt he deserved every single ounce of it.

“I see... I shall reevaluate the value of this 'detective training' I've been given if this is the result then,” he said, the nearest thing to completely disavowing his older siblings without saying so.  

In other circumstances, perhaps the others would have demanded that Damian stay and explain, but he suspected the quelling look it would have deserved prevented them. Not one of them spoke until Damian had disappeared upstairs and the elevator doors had closed.

“Jason, since when have you been a zombie?”

Jason blinked, jaw hanging. Juuuust enough for some of the scar tissue on his face to stretch past normal. Why did Dick only notice that now?

“Wait, you're all serious? How could you not know? I told you guys!”

And there was Dick's pride rearing its ugly head, because no, no he had not been told and maybe his deductive skills needed a very complete overhaul, but his memory was still excellent!

“You never said that. Heck, we weren't even talking until two years ago!”

“I literally told you all that I crawled out of my grave by myself, groaning the entire time. No experiment, no Lazarus Pit, just a body waking up in its own coffin and deciding to breathe fresh air. Does that not scream 'zombie' to you?”

They cringed.

“Not the only one that returned from beyond,” Babs mumbled. He could see her pull up the mental list right there.

“I greeted you all last meeting with a 'What's up, my bat folks? It's me, your favorite zombie!'. What did you think that meant?”

“That you're an asshole with a morbid sense of humor?” Stephanie quipped, and Jason momentarily paused his indignation to high five her. Fair's fair.

“Okay, but what about that time I got shot in the chest and I told you all not to worry about it?”

“I just figured you were going to get stitched up by Leslie or yourself, you know, regular bat neuroses,” Tim confessed.

Dick made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Tim's patrols for the next few months.

“From a bullet chest wound?” Jason asked with an incredulousness that was not at all earned, because he was a freaking zombie!

“I thought your armor had blocked it! The hole wasn't bleeding!” Tim protested, cheeks red and tone defensive.

“Well, yeah,” Jason replied. “I don't bleed. It's like some fruit pulp or something. Ain't coming out if you don't press. My heart's not pumping.”

That's a 'nevermind' on the smoothie I saved for after patrol.

“Well, I know that now,” Tim said.

“I feel like I should write it down on the plaque or something,” Jason still sounded amazed, and might have pinched his arm just to be sure he hadn't been daydreaming, “Like, 'a good soldier AND A VERY DISCRETE ZOMBIE!' in big flaming letters. With a spotlight. And a dictionary opened on 'Zombie' or 'Undead'. You know, just in case the next batbrat to come along needs a few subtle hints about my true nature. What'd you think, Dick?”

He could not have been blushing harder than he currently was. “I think shut up.”

“Of course. What about when I shoved my deadly cold toes at Tim under a blanket?”

“Cold feet.”

“Never eating around you guys?”

“Daddy issues with Bruce,” Barbara deadpanned, and got a sock thrown at her for her honesty.

However, Duke, poor kid, turned green. “Wait, so when you offered me some jellied brain... was that not a death joke?”

Dick's stomach spontaneously shrivelled.

By the grimaces and sharp inhales all around, that was a common reaction.

Then the worst possible thing happened: Jason grinned.

He strutted, all confidence and brashness, and viper-quick, snatched an arm around Duke's shoulder. “Narrows, Nightlight, my tiny bitsy bro, everything I do is a death joke. My very existence laughs at death.”

Inside the batcave, the groaning was long-suffering and shameful.

“But that was actually brains,” Duke countered.

“Yeah. Calf brains. It's a delicacy.”

Tim massaged his forehead. What a mood.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “It was purely for the joke, wasn't it?”

Jason patted him on the back so hard Duke faltered. “One tragically wasted on your obtuse mind. I prefer me some Tête fromagée instead. Less like grainy jello.”

Stone-faced, Barbara wheeled herself toward the batcomputer. There, upon a series of quick clicks, she opened up the Bats's files. “Alright, you had your fun. Do you need to eat brains or are you just the world's least funny meathead?”

“I'm the world's most misunderstood vigilante!” Jason loudly protested, milking their pain for all it was worth. And then some. “But yeah, I do. No grey matter in there” -- he tapped his belly -- “no thinking up here.” -- his skull.

“Need some better quality brains then,” Tim stage-whispered to Stephanie.

Cass pointed the finger at Jason. “No killing for brains.”

Jason's good humor flickered with a flash of green. “Ain't ever done it, never will. It's a matter of morals, not hunger, Cass.”

Dick swooped in that minefield before it exploded.

“Great! Proud of you, Jay! You're the good kind of vegetarian zombie,” he said, putting an arm around his ginormous little brother's shoulders.

Wait a minute...

“Hey, you're older than when you died! Zombies don't age.”

“No, I was thrown into a Lazarus Pit, and the evil waters cured the malnutrition-induced delay on my growth. Haven't aged a day since.”

“I just thought you had a weird babyface thing going on,” Tim said.

Jason's grin turned sardonic. “Quite the opposite, Timber.”

Dick put his head in his hands in some vain attempt to prevent his brain from leaking through his ears.  With his luck, his little brother would 'playfully' eat some of it. “There's no way you look this rugged at biologically sixteen! I refuse to believe that.”

“Can you imagine my power if I'd been allowed to reach my full potential?” Jason leered, eyebrows waggling like waves in a sea at storm. “So many heart attacks.”

Barbara and Cassandra exchanged a silent look, and, after a solemn nod, Cassandra reached up to slap Jason upside the head.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Barbara told her. “Jason, never do such a thing again.”

The disgruntled groan that followed must have been on purpose, because Jay was indeed an asshole.

“Besides, it's not like the world will ever know,” Tim said, cutting, a smirk hiding by his hand.

Dick really thought his little brother was far too relaxed upon learning that Jason was one with the undead. Sure, they had all encountered various levels of zombies during their missions, from all sorts of oral traditions and cultures, alien viruses and hidden nanobots piloting meat puppets. It wasn't even classified as a nation-wide crisis to encounter free-roaming zombies. But since the chronically unalive individual in question was one of their own, Dick felt he was owed at least a whole evening of frazzled panic and incomprehension for once.

“Oh?” Stephanie instead asked, sensing blood.

Tim shrugged. “Well, you know, no pulse, no blood flow,” he said with an angled eyebrow nodding at Jason's crotch

Stunned silence followed, their expressions varying from disgust, horror, unholy glee and, from Jason himself, wide-eyed shock that his shrimp of a little brother had had the balls to assimilate the zombieness fast enough to mock him for him.

Dick prayed for patience. For fortitude. And for an alternate timeline where he was an only child.

Why, for all the love of cotton candy and professional uncriminal clowns, did Tim put THAT image of Jason inside their brains? What had he done, him, a loving model for all of society, to suffer like this?

Maybe if he asked nicely, Jason would eat the image out of his head. He owed Dick that much after this clusterfuck of a conversation.

“Ooooooooh,” Stephanie crooned, miming getting dunked on. With acrobatics.

Jason huffed. “Like I was ever interested in the first place. I ain't Dick.”

“Okay, no slut shaming or virgin shaming, in fact, no shaming at all, please. In this house, we accept all sexualities, but we don't give out raunchy details about any of it, I only have so much brain bleach.”

“Share?” Duke pleaded in a whisper.

Oh, I wish I could, you young innocent soul.

A few beeps turned their attention back to Barbara and the batcomputer. “Well, that's one long overdue update to Jason's files. Anyone else want to share their 'obvious' medical condition?”

“Excuse you, being dead is not a medical condition.”

“I will make you wish for the peace of the grave, Jason.”

Droplets dripped from nearby stalactites.

A few bats flew overhead.

Jason turned to them like nothing had been said.

“Right. That was fun. Best night of my month. Can't wait to tell the Outlaws.”

Dick resigned himself to a series of unflattering texts by the absolute dickheads that were his second family. He could already tell the messages would blow up his phone to the Moon. 'You didn't know your brother that came back from the dead is a zombie?!'

“Have mercy and wait tomorrow morning?”

That smile could have been great or terrible. “You're lucky I'm in a spectacularly good mood, Dick.”

He had lifted his leg over his bike's seat when Duke was struck by genuine worry.

“Wait. Does Bruce know?”

Jason barked out a laugh.

“Of course he does! God knows he's got some massive blind spots, but he's obsessive, paranoid and I find subcutaneous trackers on me every week. No way he didn't get the hint before now.”

But, as his gaze went over the rest of them, his good cheer dimmed, his grin slipping off his face as surely as a bit of decayed flesh.

“... Right?”

[bluefirewrites]

I have a hc about Alex and how after the Orpheum and Julie being able to touch them, he loves hugs now. Sure, at the beginning he was all “don’t hug me”, but now he loves them. Luke and Reggie? They get hugs. Julie? She gets so many hugs. Willie? You better believe he gets hugs too.

(and I feel like Alex would give the greatest, warmest hugs just based on how he hugs Willie in 1x09)

The journey from “Don’t Touch Me” to “Do you think we could try that hug one more time?” makes that last scene so much better. 

I had Willie call Alex the ‘King of Hugs’ in another answered ask. Like when he pulled Willie in for that hug- *chef’s kiss* You could tell that he could gives amazing hugs, I agree!

He liked hugs before, like a reasonable amount. 

But ever since surviving total existence erasure, Alex is not gonna take hugs for granted anymore. 

He greets everyone with a hug every morning. 

They don’t sleep but since Reggie’s already in the kitchen with Ray (whether he knows it or not) and Luke’s waiting at the table for Julie to come down for breakfast, ready to lay some new lyrics on her, Alex, the last to leave the studio, bursts in, calls out a ‘Good Morning!’ and proceeds to hug his friends. 

And now that he could make contact with Julie, he’s for sure not gonna let that girl go off to school without one too. 

Luke and Reggie argue that Alex hugs Julie way more than he hugs them. 

“Excuse you, I got months of hugs to catch up on,” Alex defends, while pulling Julie in for another embrace just to spite them. 

Alex has different ways of hugging and is skilled in all of them. 

He can be rough when he wants to be... like when it comes to tackling Luke in a bear hug that sends them both tumbling to the ground. They would tumble around, nearly wrestling, laughing their heads off. That’s the only way Alex is able to speak Luke’s language. He couldn’t match his friend’s always-up-there energy on any other occasion. 

And for Reggie, he’s the most gentle with. And as much as Reggie says that Alex is the sensitive one, the bassist is soft when it comes to hugs and seems to respond well when hugs are accompanied by affirmations and encouraging pats on the back. Alex knows how much he ribs on Reggie, so he tries to make sure he balances that out with these moments of affection. 

He’s got the might to lift Julie up when he hugs her, spinning her around and cheering “Ju-lie! Ju-lie!” after a particularly good rehearsal or gig. And the height difference between the two of them makes it easier for him to really have Julie buried into his embrace, his chin nearly resting against the top of her head. Sometimes he lifts her up during a regular hug, her legs swinging slightly and she giggles to be let down. 

And for Willie- 

He’s the one to always come up from behind and greet Willie with a hug, resting his chin on his shoulder, asking a quiet, “Watcha up to?”

He’s the one who has his arms wide open when Willie launches himself at him after landing a complicated trick that took weeks to master. 

(Sometimes, in his excitement, Willie hooks his legs around Alex’s waist, and Alex has to prepare to either support both their weight or ease their fall onto the pavement). 

He’s the one who makes sure Willie does get the sweetest, most gentle hugs because he knows that he doesn’t get them a lot. Not from working at the Hollywood Ghost Club and being under Caleb’s control. 

So Willie gets everything: the rough, the gentle, and the strength. 

But Alex hugs Willie the longest. 

Maybe marked by the trepidation, the fear of losing each other. Since the first time they hugged, it was during the most dire of circumstances. 

But Willie doesn’t mind these long hugs and he’s always sad to part afterwards, having enjoyed being wrapped up in Alex’s arms, being able to breathe him in, to feel true warmth from another being. 

But all in all, Alex gives it everything he’s got when he hugs, puts a lot of thought into which hugs are good for which person at any given time. 

And that’s why everyone’s so crazy about them. 

[bribe-the-door]

Don’t Blame the Drunk Calling [1]

the one where you’re harry’s roommate and you both have messy dating lives

a/n: hello sweetest babes!!! it’s han -- i know i haven’t been writing much fo anything for ... like a year now? but we’re BACK! we are back and kicking!!! this is the beginning of something i’d like to continue so ... stay tuned :) ily! <3

____________________________________________________

“What are you smiling about?” you asked, sarcasm lingering in the tone of your voice.

Harry sat opposite of you, legs curled up under himself. His face glowed from both the light of his phone screen and the words being sent his way. Watching his lips twitch into a smile made your own stomach churn.

He remained quiet as he typed; the clicks of his keyboard and the whoosh! of a sent text served as a response to your question.

“Well?” you pressed.

Your second attempt hung in the air between you two. He chuckled under his breath and continued to scroll through his phone, probably looking for an emoji of somesort.

“Hm?” Harry’s eyes never left his phone.

You sighed, voice quiet. “Nevermind.”

He looked up at the change in cadence, shaking his head as if to refocus himself. His phone was then turned over on its face, a silent promise of ‘I’m listening’.

“What is it?”

It was your turn to bite at your lip now, except this wasn’t in a flirty way. Or a smirking way. There was nothing cute about the jealousy you so fervently tried to hide on a daily basis, living with the boy who stole your heart last summer.

And then promptly stomped it into the ground.

“Y/n,” he interrupted your self-spiral. “What?”

You shrugged it off as if you hadn’t been the one to press in the first place. “I don’t know, it’s just my job as your best friend to pester you about the new girl in your life.”

Harry’s eyes widened, a nervous laugh following in suit. “The new what?”

“Isn’t that why you’re smirking at your phone?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrowed your eyes in his direction, wishing for laser-vision or something of the like.

He pursed his lips, pondering. “Her name’s Elise, not that you’d care to know.”

Elise.

The pounding of your heart sped up and simultaneously grew quiet as it fell into your stomach.

She wasn’t the first, after the both of you… you know.

There was Brie, Anna, the girl you only saw once because she snuck out in the middle of the night, then Sage, most recently Elisabeth.

And now Elise.

“Y/n?” He asked again.

“What?”

He paused, holding onto your gaze for mere seconds too long. “Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? Of a girl I haven’t met? That you’ll probably bring here for a few dates and then hook up?” The words steamrolled from your lips. “Not everything is about sex, you know.”

Harry bit back a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Sounds exactly like someone who needs to get laid would say.”

Your mouth fell open with a spread of embarrassment across your cheeks. “What the hell--!”

Harry stood quickly, throwing another taunting smirk in your direction. “I’ll leave you with that to ponder. I, on the other hand, have a date.”

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, bidding him farewell and silently hoping he’d stub his toe on the way out.

“We’ll try to be quiet tonight, you know, when I’m getting laid.”

“Oh fuck off!” A throw pillow was, accurately named, and launched in his direction. His laughter could be heard even once he was down the hall to his room.

Maybe he was right.

*** It had been a while since… you know. It had happened. And you wished that period of absence was lesser than, but given the way things were working these days, it wasn’t something to depend on. Your own relationship with hookups and casual dating wasn’t anything to boast aboutーthey were few and far between (when they did happen).

You preferred to keep to yourself; nights spent alone with a good show and a glass of wine far more filled your fancy than any night with a stranger, but lately, you’d been feeling rather lonely. Like you wanted to be needed.

Desired.

Even if just for a moment (or hour, or so).

Harry had long since left the living room and you sat in silence, pondering. The buzz of an earlier glass of wine lingered in your head and only encouraged your decision to open the dreaded app on your phone.

Your profile, carefully curated with pictures of you laughing with friends, moody mirror selfies, and a screenshot of a fuckboy’s attempt to slide in your DMs (as a warning of what not to do), sat vacant for a few months now. There were a few unread messages in your inbox and you deleted them all. It was time to start over.

All to prove Harry wrong.

Swiping like it was a video game, you matched and matched and super-liked anyone to your liking. Bryan, Timothy, a few Chrises, some guy named “T”, they all piled up somewhere on the internet as your next potential fling. It only took a few minutes on this dull Saturday night for Chris #3 to message you.

“Hey cutie” was all that you earned from your search, and you played along, wine helping your case.

Chris didn’t keep your attention long, though, and you continued swiping out of boredom. It was then that you swiped to Aly’s profile.

It was a curious feeling, the way your heart rushed to a rapid beat in your chest. Pausing, you studied over her face in the first picture. Then the second. And the third, fourth, and fifth, too.

How did…

You tapped to the settings of your Tinder app, confused. Indeed, it was set to “Everyone”. When this happened, you were unsure. Maybe Harry had gotten a hold of your phone one Wine Wednesday and changed it as a prank. (Not that it really was a prank…).

You peered over your phone sheepishly, as if you were expecting Harry to jump out from behind the couch and cause a scene. Like you were somehow 13 again, hiding from your parents and reading Seventeen magazine. A slow burn flourished over your cheeks, ignited by the juvenile sparks in your chest.

You pressed the settings button again, biting your lip as you did so. It wasn’t as ceremonious as you were making it out to be, but your body had other plans.

Women only.

The checkmark sealed the deal, and that was that.

A new kind of rush filled your ribcage, holding back the beating of your heart that very likely could be heard from across the room. You swiped back to the main screen, Aly’s profile still front and center. Carefully hovering over the picture of her face, you paused before swiping right.

To your surprise, it highlighted in blue and showed your pictures together.

“Matched!” it said in a celebratory font.

Your phone hung in your hand absent-mindedly as you sat, sinking further into the couch. Does this mean something? You wondered. Am Iー?

Before you could answer, your phone vibrated in your hand.

A single “1” shone like a beacon over the Messages tab in the app. Something told you it wasn’t Chris #3 trying to redeem himself from earlier.

Aly’s name was illuminated at the top of your screen, her profile picture shrunk down to fit the small space but her smile was still just as friendly. Your heart picked up in its cadence, thudding prominently in your chest.

It’s just a girl, y/n, you thought to yourself. It’s just a girl, on a dating app, that I matched with.

Aly: Hi :)

Okay, simple. Concise. Not a lot to work with but certainly not a lot to get worked up over, either. Your fingers danced over the screen, going back and forth between the “Hey” with a smiley or a “What’s up?” and a wink. Was a wink too forward? What if you responded with the same thing she sent. Would she think you’re an amateur? That you don’t know how to talk to girls?

Aly: Are you from around here? Your third picture is from the Firefly, right?

You paused again, rethinking everything.

You: Hey! I am, the Firefly is my go-to. You?

Send.

It was almost instantly Aly sent a response, excited someone else was familiar with her favorite spot, too.

Had you ever crossed paths?

The conversation flowed between the two of you seamlessly, your anxiety fading away as Aly provided most of the questions and seemed eager to talk. Before you knew it, an hour had gone by and you’d ignored a few other texts to talk to this random stranger.

Harry had sent a few, one was the link to a tiktok, one of those “the person who sent you this…” (it was about food; how typical) and a text reminding you he’d be bringing Elise home tonight. He made sure to remind you that he ‘apologized in advance for the noise’ and that he’d ‘make it up to you’.

Aly sent another message, the banner across the top of your screen pulling your attention from Harry’s attempt at pushing your buttons.

Aly: You down to get drinks sometime?

The butterflies started their rampage in your belly all over again, this time much more intensely than the last.

She wanted to get drinks? Already?

You weighed your options: one; drinks with a hot girl at Firefly or two; get wine and bring it back to your apartment while Harry had this Elise girl over.

There was nothing to lose with your offer, so you swiftly typed out a suggestion and hit send without second thought.

You: Wanna come to mine and drink some wine? I just baked banana bread :)

Her response was immediate, a quality you quite admired about Aly: she was bold and brave, exactly the opposite of yourself.

Aly: Red or white? ;)

***

The moments before Aly was slated to arrive were the longest of your life. If you’d thought your heart was beating quickly before, this was overdrive. You shared your address, along with the promise of baked goods, and waited.

A soft knock at your door sent your feet flying to the entryway. You brushed the hair from your forehead and fidgeted with the buttons on your flannel, and with one more deep breath, you unlocked the deadbolt.

Aly was shorter than you, only by a few inches, but her bold eyes drew you right in. She smiled, sly and curious, offering the black plastic bag of wine before greeting you.

“Hi.”

Her salutation hung in the air between you as you took her in. She was just like her pictures and she drew you in all the same as she had on Tinder.

“Hey,” you answered, taking the bag from her outstretched hand. “Come in?”

You stepped back to allow her to shuffle past you, her coat already coming off before the door shut behind the two of you.

“This is cozy,” she said. “Just you?”

“No, I have a roommate. He’s bringing someone home tonight, supposedly.”

She chuckled, “Interesting living with a guy, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

You took her coat and tossed it over a dining table chair. Aly had already made herself at home on the couch, opposite of the corner you normally staked out as your own. She continued to look around, biting back a smile every so often.

The string lights around the crown molding illuminated her face with a soft orange glow as she took everything in. She tossed her phone aside, arms outstretched across the sofa behind her. Her smile was everything, and you almost forgot why she was even here.

“Do you, uh, want me to open this?” You nodded toward the bag in your hand, its weight bringing you back into the moment.

Aly nodded, “Want me to come with?”

“Sure.”

She pushed off of the couch to follow you into the small kitchen, finding a spot in front of the sink. It was comfortable having her here, the way she just ‘fit’ in without even trying. Like it wasn’t new territory for her.

Her arms were folded in front of her chest and she watched you intently.

Aly had bought both red and white, taking your answer of “depends on the day” a bit literally.

“So…,” she started, stepping in closer. “What’s your story?”

“Hm?”

“You know,” Aly laughed, “Why’re you on Tinder?”

Luckily you were searching through the silverware drawer when she asked, intent set on finding the corkscrew. “Just a 24-year-old thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you sighed, turning to face her. “My roommate and I have a bit of a bet going.”

Aly raised an eyebrow, asking you to continue. You found the corkscrew and shut to the drawer with your hip, shyly turning back toward the counter with the wine to divert the attention from yourself.

“It’s stupid. He’s … he’s a bit of a player.”

“Okay, and?”

So she wasn’t going to let this go. “He brings a lot of girls home, and I don’t bring many guys home.”

The bottle of red popped! open and you set the corkscrew aside. You felt Aly step in closer behind you, offering a glass from the counter.

“I’m not a guy, though.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, feeling the warmth returning to your cheeks. Your tone shifts, voice getting quieter. “You’re not.”

“So what does that mean?”

You hand her a glass, generously full of the deep red alcohol, and shrug. “I’m not sure. What does that mean?”

She cocks her head to the side and smirks again. You’re painfully aware of how she licks her lips before speaking, and watched intently as she took a sip of the wine.

“Do you want it to mean something?”

“Well I mean,” you stammer over your words, “If you want it to mean something?”

Aly stepped toward you, closing in on the space between the lot of you. Her glass is raised, she nods in your direction, and you tap your glass to hers. You both take another sip and she waits to respond.

“I think it would be fun, you know. For it to mean something,” she shrugged. “I mean, isn’t that why you invited me over?”

Your eyes grew wide and you laughed nervously. “I didn’t think it would actually work.”

“Wouldn’t work? Oh, baby,” Aly shook her head, “I knew from the moment I saw your picture that I wasn’t going to just let you go.”

Baby. Your head swirled with thoughts, overwhelmed to say the least. “Sorry, I, uh,” you giggled to yourself again, flustered. The sip you intended to take was more of a gulp, and then another.

Aly joined your laughter, touching your shoulder in efforts to console you. “Was that too forward of me? I’m sorry, I forget that this is new for some people.”

“How’d you know?”

“You’ve been picking at your nails since the moment I got here and talking at the speed of light,” Aly leaned back against the sink. “You’re an open book, y/n.”

She took a long drink from her glass, now half empty, and stood silently.

“An open book, hm?”

“Yep. Totally.”

You paused for a second, the wine in-hand going down much faster than you anticipated. “What else do you know about me then?”

Aly’s eyes widened, a smile creeping up on her face. “Let me see.”

It was your turn to lean back against the counter and wait for what she had to say. Her eyes sized you up and down, and she hummed a “hmm…” just for good measure.

“Shy. But only when you don’t know her well. Confident, but that’s mostly with the help of wine. This roommate? You like him, at least a little. But you’re on Tinder… matching with women? Interesting character development in my book at least.”

You shook your head, embarrassed at the impressive correctness that she boasted in her assumptions. “Mostly right.”

“Only mostly?”

“Yeah,” you hid behind another sip of wine, “You forgot about the part where I’m really into you.”

“Oh,” Aly reached behind her to place the now-empty glass on the counter, stepping closer to you once more. “You’re really into me?”

You nodded.

She took another step in. “How much?” Her voice was nearly a whisper.

You could hardly hear her, over the hammering of your heart, but your brain was busy working up a witty response.

“How much, baby?” Aly pressed.

She was dangerously close to you now, only inches from your face. The mention of you being ‘confident’ but ‘mostly with the help of wine’ was no truer than in this moment, and you didn’t answer her with words. But instead, a kiss.

Aly didn’t hesitate to kiss back, hardly leaving you the time to place your wine glass (empty, too) on the counter. She leaned into you and wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you closer. She knew exactly what she was doing.

It was just like kissing boys, you quickly realized, except this felt better. Aly led, moving her lips in synchrony with yours that, once you two found a balance that worked, made your head spin. The butterflies in your stomach morphed into something more; less about the nerves and more about the want.

You didn’t care about anything in this momentー

ーWhich was exactly when you heard the front door slam shut.

“Y/n!” Harry called out from the entryway. You heard his keys hit the table, along with another thud and the low murmurs of another voice.

Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck.

“Y/n!” He called again, “Are you evenー?”

He rounded the corner as you pushed out from behind Aly’s grasp, her own surprise catching up with her.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, quickly changing directions to face Harry. “Hi, yes, I’m here.”

Harry eyed you, clearly seeing the person behind you. “Hi…”

“Um, Harry,” you paused, stepping aside to bring Aly into view. “This is Aly.”

Aly spoke up from behind you: “Yeah, I know.”

You turned on your heel. “What?”

Harry hadn’t said anything since seeing Aly and remained quiet in the doorway of the kitchen. He raked a hand through his curls and stared at the ground.

“Hi, Harry.” Aly said, her tone laced with awkwardness.

Oh.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Aly.”

Oh, no.

“Do you…?”

“Yeah,” they both answered in unison.”

“...know each other.”

________________________________________________

part two coming soon!

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 25

First

Previous

Next

But, unfortunately, the good mood didn’t last long.

Hungover, tired from lack of sleep, and sore from sleeping on the floor…

Not a great start to the day, but they had stuff to get done.

They’d all brought their technology and, after a few moments where they'd discussed their abilities, they’d gotten to work. If it were at any other time, with any other people, they could have been mistaken for just a set of teenagers engrossed in their technology of choice.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as lighthearted as it seemed to the untrained eye.

Ladybug pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes roving over every still frame of their TikToks.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense AT ALL.

Why had Hawkmoth suddenly upped the ante? It had to have something to do with their accounts and/or the fact that they were now all living together, it was too soon after the start for it to be anything else, but then the answer should be obvious. It should be somewhere on their accounts…

And yet she couldn’t find anything. Nothing that could have provoked him, really.

She could see the conspiracy board in the background of Chloe’s video, but that didn’t mean much.

It showed their estimate of Hawkmoth’s height, which shouldn’t be much of a problem considering the fact that miraculi had a way of keeping people from figuring out who their holders are using physical characteristics alone...

It also showed some of the attributes/insults that the miraculous team had come up with. Had he been upset when Ladybug had pointed out his “stupid shaped condom head”? Insulted when Carapace had said he had “Rich asshole dad vibes (think Gabriel Agreste but more overtly evil)”? Hurt when Chloe had written “terrible fashion sense, probably straight”?

She didn’t think that was what had happened, lashing out over a few petty insults didn’t fit her profile of him. Hawkmoth was smug, Hawkmoth was cool and collected, and, above all, Hawkmoth was determined to keep his hands clean so he couldn’t be found.

Maybe that was it. He’d been threatened by the proof that they were actively looking for him.

She didn’t know. It didn’t make sense for someone who only ever came out when he thought he had won to appear for seemingly no reason…

But she brushed it off. They had bigger problems.

Namely, Hawkmoth shouldn’t have been able to find them. They’d done everything they could to keep their location a secret, from carefully placed camera angles to sneaking in through windows to asking Rena to cloak them when they could. So how had he found them?

The first answer they’d come up with was the people Chloe had hired to move her things in. Chloe had badgered her dad to figure out the names of the movers and given them over to Rena, who was doing a shockingly extensive background check on them all (they were opting not to question it).

“Three of them had a criminal record, but they were all minor. Public indecency, drunk driving, that kind of thing. Nothing that really screams ‘Hawkmoth’,” said Rena. “And the only one that fit the height requirement was the complete wrong skin color, so…”

“I doubt that any of them have property in the rich area of town, anyways,” said Chloe.

This earned a glare from the others and she shrunk back with a sheepish smile.

“It’s around the Eiffel Tower, though, we should check that out,” said Ladybug. “Since that’s a more or less easy to access place.”

Rena shook her head slightly. “There’s been akumas that have tried to take or destroy the Tower. If his base was there he wouldn’t have allowed that.”

They all considered this before deciding that made sense.

Carapace leaned back in the armchair with a long sigh. “I looked through all the comments. If anyone managed to find us that way they’d have to be speaking in code for me to have missed it.”

Chloe nodded and set her phone down. “I couldn’t find anything on the internet, either.”

There was a beat as the five of them considered this. If the movers hadn’t been Hawkmoth, and no one online had figured it out, then the only way Hawkmoth could have found out was…

The anxiety in the room spiked.

“So, we all agree that the traitor is probably Chat, right?” Said Chloe.

Chat frowned. “I was the only person fighting him for a while. Why would I even bother if I was a traitor?”

“To keep up looks, or maybe you only recently started working with him,” said Rena. “Besides, Hawkmoth needed the Ladybug miraculous, too, to make the wish. Maybe you were waiting for her to show up.”

Chat bit his lip and drew his knees to his chest. “No. The only reason that we even got a Ladybug was that I happened to be allergic to birds. I didn’t even know there were other miraculi until she showed up.”

“And that allergy was exploited quite a few times by Hawkmoth, so much so that another hero had to be involved. Sounds a little suspicious, honestly.”

Carapace sighed. “Please, that was just good strategy. Hawkmoth wanted another hero to appear, so he made it happen. There’s no reason to think that it was Chat’s fault.”

Rena didn’t seem all that convinced.

“Maybe we should get Chat to explain why his room wasn’t touched,” Chloe said.

“I can’t! Because, get this: I don’t know or help Hawkmoth!”

Carapace raised an eyebrow. “Can we talk about how eager you guys are to throw him under the bus?”

Rena frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m SAYING that someone here has been just a little too curious about us all. Not to mention you love it when stuff doesn’t go well for us. Or that you’re the newest member here.”

Rena pushed her laptop from her lap and got to her feet. “PLEASE. You’re just mad that all the signs are pointing towards your little friend betraying us!”

Carapace pushed himself to his feet as well, looking at Chloe and Rena with clear contempt. “And your ally is so great? Want to talk about how she messes up all the time and makes everything hard on us? She fucked up enough to get Ladybug to babysit but, sure, let’s go after the person who’s been putting his life on the line for the longest!”

Chloe launched herself at him --.

“ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Chloe’s hand stopped inches away from Carapace’s face. Carapace let go of her shirt. Rena unclenched her fists. Chat pulled his face out of his knees.

Ladybug crossed her arms over her chest. “Kwami. You’re acting like children.”

“But --,” tried Rena.

“NO.”

Rena snapped her mouth shut.

“I get that you’re all scared, and that’s UNDERSTANDABLE, but you need to get ahold of yourselves. This is exactly what Hawkmoth wanted, for us to be scared and angry and, most importantly, ready for akumatization. Yes, this is a big problem, but all of you need to go cool down.”

There was a beat before Chloe got off of Carapace and offered him a hand up. Carapace looked reluctant but, when Ladybug had turned her glare on him, he took it.

“Thank you.” Ladybug pressed her lips together as she considered her next words. “If you’re going to get akumatized, run out of Paris and do something to relax. Otherwise... Chat: play video games, Carapace: listen to music in your room, Rena: you can use my gym to work out, Chloe: do some gardening.”

There were a few moments as the four stared at her with wide eyes before they slowly shuffled off to do as they were told.

She waited to make sure they were gone before dropping her Ladybug persona and falling back on the couch. She rested her arm over her eyes.

Kwami, she hated that it had gotten that far. Really, she hadn’t expected it. While it wasn’t at all shocking that Rena and Chloe were confrontational and Chat would cower, she hadn’t thought Carapace would snap at them. 

Still, once she’d realized that things were escalating… she probably should have done something.

Not that she didn’t have a reason, because Ladybug always had a reason. She’d wanted to see their reasonings for why they could all be traitors.

… not that she genuinely thought there were traitors. The only person that was even slightly shady out of the lot of them was Rena, and she was pretty sure that was just because of her miraculous.

Ladybug clicked her tongue irritably.

How the hell was she supposed to prove to everyone else that they were all safe, though?

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic

[kyber-crystal]

Unspoken Words

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4.2k (I POPPED OFF LOLLLLL)

Summary: In which the night before being deployed on a covert black-ops mission overseas with Natasha, you write Steve a secret love letter that you never intended to give him. But, it still ends up falling into his hands.

Warnings: fluff, soft angst, cute steve hehe

A/N: once again, shamelessly stole this idea from the kdrama im watching adsfasdf

To Steve.

You always told me it was time I found someone who cared for me just as much as I cared about others. For the longest time, I had myself believing I was set for life since I already had the team. That I didn’t need to find a man to sweep me off my feet and take his last name, to have as my own, as every time I seemed to let my feelings wander astray, it’d end in tragedy.

After waiting for too long to say this, I guess I'm gonna come clean now, so brace yourself. I felt as if this would be easier for me if I was saying it on paper rather than in person, so here you go.

I realized I'm in love with you. You never leave my mind. You're always there, mentally, if not physically. It's hard for you to comprehend all at once, I know, it's hard for me to wrap my mind around, too. It still feels unreal that I'm actually admitting all this to you. I could've sworn I'd only acted this way in my dreams, but hey, reality can sometimes come up behind you and slap you in the face, you know?

In the middle of the storm, a war that rages on in my mind, you’re my safe haven. You’re the gentle center who keeps me steady and prevents me from teetering over the edge and losing my grip on reality. You keep me centered, and I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side. Steven Grant Rogers, I’m in love with you. I know, it doesn’t seem real. As crazy as it sounds, I’m hopelessly in love with you.

Steve, you are my one stability in a chaos-ridden world and I thank you endlessly for that. I so desperately needed something to hold onto, something to convince me I was still alive and breathing and somewhat sane. It's hard for me, it's hard that only today I've accepted the feelings I'd been harboring inside for years. But I've decided to admit defeat and admit I've officially fallen in love with you. Because what I'm beginning to feel now is far too strong for me to ignore; it's impossible to keep up this act when you're all I can seem to think about.

It's all strange, honestly. The feeling of butterflies flying around my stomach and tickling my insides makes me feel as if I'm up in the sky, my head in the clouds, but it also overwhelms me and makes me scared at the same time. The fact that I'm in so deeply in love scares me because I know when I'm really in love with someone, it's hard to escape once I've completed the act of falling for them.

Weird, right? Who knew the great Y/N was so capable of being a romantic sap?

It feels dangerous yet completely safe at the same time, as if someone's given me peace and my heart is dancing around in my chest because it's so happy, at the same time there is a Captain America-shaped hole there in the center that I was never aware was there in the beginning. My chest aches at the thought of having to leave you or you not reciprocating my feelings, but I know I might just suffer that fate, since the world as I know it, isn't kind whatsoever. I should know this better than anyone, after fighting countless battles.

It scares me more than excites me, how you can go from being really close friends to then being completely infatuated and in love with them and wondering how you were ever able to go on with your daily life without them, because I sure as hell can't imagine that now. In the beginning, I told myself it's not right, I still had so much of my life ahead of me, so much time to plan out what I'm going to end up like in the future but my brain is screaming no, no, it is right, it's meant to be.

The team tries convincing me to do something about it but I'm terrified. Terrified that I'll have to bring down the thick and heavy walls I spent so much time building up in the fears of being hurt and damaged and my heart shattered to a million jagged pieces.

I know most people would consider me to be foolish and naïve for spilling my feelings through a sappy love letter, but it's true when I say I love you so much more than I could ever love myself. You're my best friend, and as cheesy as it sounds, you are my everything. My anchor.

I fell for you all on my own. Not because I was pressured to or anything, but because I made the decision myself. I don't just give my heart to you by default as if there's no one else available for me to open up to. It's because I choose to. Every day that I wake up, every day we're fighting for our lives or fighting each other or going about a normal day or whatever, I'll keep choosing you over and over again, and I hope someday you'll do the same.

I love you more than you know. And if you don't feel the same way, then it's perfectly fine. I understand, and I'll wait for you as long as it takes, no matter what.

Whatever it takes.

Y/N

You let out a long sigh and set down your pen, folding the paper up into fourths and tucking it under your lamp before pushing yourself away from your desk and standing up, stretching your arms in the air. What even was the point of doing that, anyways? It’s not like Steve’s just going to come in here and read the letter. 

The downside of living with the Avengers was that word got around very quickly, especially about your love life. There was no hiding anything from anyone, as they’d find out one way or another. If Tony didn’t find out first, it was Natasha, Sam, or Bucky who did.

“Hey, Nat,” you spoke without turning your head to look at who was behind you, knowing your red-headed best friend was leaning against the doorframe, observing you carefully. 

“Y/N,” Natasha nodded and made her way inside, sitting at the edge of your bed and you took a seat next to her, as she rested her head on your shoulder. “You alright? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Something tells me you’re not.”

“Did Wanda read my mind for you?” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“No, she didn’t,” she replied honestly, “she’s busy baking cookies with Vis and Peter right now. You think you wanna tell me what’s up? As your best friend, I’m obligated to know what’s going on.”

You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh. "You know what it is."

"You mean who?"

"Why am I letting this happen to myself?"

"You can't control who you fall for,," she explained. "Your heart sometimes just has a mind of its' own."

“He’s Captain America,” you deadpanned.

“And you’re the badass Y/N!”

“I shouldn’t even have feelings in the first place. And I shouldn't have written that love letter that I won't even give him anyways, or...you know."

"You wrote him a letter?"

You got up and tugged the letter from underneath your lamp and gave it to her, watching as her eyes scanned over the paper with your tidy, typewriter-like handwriting filling the sheet from top to bottom.

"So..."

Natasha handed the paper back to you. "Why can't you just tell him?"

"Because he doesn’t like me back."

"You should tell him at some point. Keeping this all to yourself isn't healthy."

"You sound like Tony."

She chuckled lightly. "What?It's the truth."

"Fine," you threw your hands up in the air in defeat, "I’ll consider telling him after we get back from Kyiv. I’m only considering it. And if I do confess...will you take me out for shawarma? Bucky took me last time and I barely got to eat anything because he stole most of my food."

"Alright, I promise," she laughed. "You got a deal."

...

SHIELD was always taking advantage of your almost unparalleled skill in the art of covert espionage and hand to hand combat and sending you off. Normally, it would last no longer than a few days or weeks at a time, so to hear that you'd be gone for four whole months made Steve feel sick to his stomach. He was dreading having to watch you leave, because it would mean spending the next third of a year by himself, without being able to see your face or your smile or simply have you around for some good company.

You pulled him aside after dinner one night to tell him the news.

"Nat and I were called in by Fury early this morning. We're being deployed to eastern Europe to stop a nuclear missile launch."

"How long will you be gone?" He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, but it was a dead giveaway that he didn't want you to go at all.

"Well...if things go right, 3-4 months."

"And if doesn't?"

"Six, maybe seven."

Steve felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at your answer. "Why is it gonna take so long?"

"I don't know," you sighed, "just trying getting in and out isn't a very short process. We have to maintain low profile for a while before we infiltrate the base. If we're discovered too early on...then...well, we're basically screwed."

"Oh."

"Hey, I'm going to be fine, if that's what you're so worried about," you took his hand in yours and squeezed it tightly, "I know you're thinking I can't handle this, but I can. Nat and I are gonna look out for each other. I promise I'll be okay."

"When are you leaving?"

"First thing in the morning. We gotta go at four."

You didn't have to add on another sentence to tell him it meant you were unable to say goodbye to anyone. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat and trying to ignore that weird feeling in his chest as you kept holding his hand, not letting go even when you had the chance to.

Later that night, you were able to get five hours of sleep before Natasha came in to wake you up and you got ready. When she noticed how your eyes had lost the light to them and your shoulders slumped as you boarded the jet, she knew something was up.

Guilt clawed at your insides. You should’ve told him you loved him before you left, you idiot. What if you don’t make it back alive? Hm?

A set of footsteps echoing across the hangar bay suddenly made you turn around. You turned around to see Steve, jogging towards you and calling out your name. Knowing it was only a matter of minutes before you finished boarding and took off for a mission thousands of miles away, with very little ways of communication as you were supposed to be as discreet as possible when undercover, he didn't want you to leave without saying goodbye.

A mix of surprise and relief is on your face when you see him. You shake your head and give him a reassuring look, that everything was going to be okay and you'd be just fine.

"What are you doing here? You should be sleeping," your brows furrowed together in confusion as you unloaded your weapons, tying up your combat boots. "I thought you—"

Steve quickly comes forward and crushes you into a tight embrace that tells you he's going to miss you much more than he's letting on. You were quick to return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing him back, resting your head against his broad chest.

"Stay safe out there," he murmured into your hair, pressing a light, fleeting kiss to the top of your hair.

You don't question his sudden act of sentiment, and just gave him a small smile in response. "Don't worry. I will."

With that, you turned around, stepping back up the ramp with Natasha. The gates to the hangar bay slid open, and within seconds you had taken off.

Steve stands there for a while even after the Quinjet is out of his sight, and it's only when Bucky pulls him back inside that he realizes he's been standing there for over an hour without moving at all.

The first few weeks pass by in a blur. He hardly eats, he hardly sleeps, he hardly even gets up for his morning runs or trains at all. After the first two months came and went, Tony grew rather concerned seeing him deteriorate and decided to ask him what was going on.

"Tony, I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. What's up with you? You haven't eaten a solid meal in over two months. You've lost some weight around your face, you almost look like a skeleton. When you haven't gone on your morning runs in forever, I should have a reason to be worried about you, Cap."

"It's been five weeks and she hasn't checked in with us yet," he stated plainly, gulping down his third cup of coffee of the day. "She should've called a week ago."

"God, I never thought you'd be the one to get so worked up over a girl," the billionaire let out a long sigh, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well at the kitchen counter before taking a seat at the island next to him, "but here we are now."

"What if she got injured?"

"Her and Nat are looking out for each other. I'm sure she's fine. She's going to be okay, so why don't you eat something solid for once? Tell me what you wanna order, I'll get it for you."

Thanks, Tony. I'll take Thai." (You and Steve often ate Thai takeout together.)

"Anytime."

Way over in Ukraine, you and Natasha were sitting on the bed in your hotel room watching the news on TV in silence because neither one of you felt like sleeping yet, until she decided to speak up.

"Why haven't you called Rogers yet?"

"I...don't know."

"He's gotta be missing you like hell, you know."

"I know. And I miss him too...a bit too much. That's why I can't call him. Because every time I hear his voice or see something that reminds me of him, it makes me fall even more in love with him and I can't afford having that. I don't want to risk getting hurt. Besides...I already summoned every last ounce of willpower to write that letter."

"You really should give him a call. It's not doing your heart any good to purposely drain yourself of him."

"Fine."

Steve had somehow allowed himself to get roped into a Mario Kart showdown with Bucky and Sam, when his phone suddenly lit up with a familiar number he could recognize anywhere. Your contact picture filled up the screen: you grinning wildly as his arms wrapped around you from behind, Pietro photobombing in the back as he made heart signs with his hands.

He picked up the phone and answered it after only one ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Steve," you spoke over the phone, "how's it going?"

"Hey," he couldn't help but break into a smile, "are you alright?"

"Yeah. We got the data files downloaded onto the flash drive and then destroyed it yesterday. So for now, we're just waiting around and maybe doing some tours of Kyiv while we have time."

"What time is it over there?"

"Half past midnight. You?"

"2:30."

"How are you holding up?"

Bucky and Sam looked over at that exact moment, wiggling their eyebrows up and down as they gestured for Steve to say something. "I'm doing fine. Got pulled into a Mario Kart deathmatch with the two idiots."

"Tell Bucky and Sam I send my regards and that I'm bringing back those baguettes I promised for when we stop over in Paris," you told him.

"I will. It's good to hear your voice, Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter at those words. "It's good to hear your voice, too. Look, I'm sorry...but it's getting late, and my data on my phone is low, Fury didn't give me an unlimited plan so I gotta go now. See you soon."

"Okay. Try to get some good sleep, alright? I don't want you getting hurt because you didn't get a good night's rest the night before. See you."

"COME ON, MAN!" Sam yelled as soon as you hung up. "You didn't even have the decency to say 'I love you?'"

"I love her, but not like that."

"Sure you don't. I saw the way your face lit up when you picked up the phone."

"Two months," the super-soldier let out a sigh of disappointment, setting down the controller to watch him and Bucky tear each other apart on Rainbow Road, "two more months."

He picked up his phone again and clicked on his camera roll, mindlessly beginning to scroll through until one picture caught his eye. It was during summer break when you were vacationing in the Bahamas for two weeks along with several SHIELD agents, and Coulson had taken the team picture. Fury had somehow been convinced to come along as well.

As his eyes scanned all the faces in the picture, he came across himself and noticed that he wasn't smiling at the camera, but at you instead, and you were doing the same. Both of you, gazing into each others' eyes as if the two of you were the only people left on Earth.

He felt a pang in his chest as he realized, at that moment, that he was in love with you and hadn't gotten the chance to tell you so before you left. And now, it could be too late.

The letter ends up reaching Steve much faster than you'd anticipated it to. The next day, he went to drop off the sweatshirt you left in his room last time you’d had a movie night together and comes across a single sheet of paper lying out on your desk.

All the color quickly drains from his face when he realizes this wasn't actually meant for him to read. He knows what he'd just done was wrong, but the fact that he was so oblivious to how you felt about him makes him feel even worse.

...

The mission had gone extremely well. You and Natasha were in and out of that base probably faster than you could summon Tony after yelling out that one of his suits had been tampered with.

Natasha thought it'd be fun to surprise him by coming back a month early and could tell instantly that you loved the idea, judging by the way your eyes lit up when you boarded the Quinjet.

You decided to call him again on the flight back as she sat at the front piloting the jet.

"Steve?"

"Hey. What's up?"

"Uh...I'm afraid there's been a change of plans."

"What plans?" His voice quickly grew worried as he tried masking his disappointment at the fact that you weren't announcing your return.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, I'm sorry, but...I just wanted to call you to update you on what's happening. Signal's not very good up here, Nat and I are flying out again so I'll call you when we touch down."

"Okay. Talk to you in a bit."

After making a quick pit stop at a bakery in Paris, you were up in the skies again, zipping back towards the Avengers HQs where the rest of the team was waiting.

"You know, I think Rogers is in love with you," Natasha gave you a knowing look as you touched down.

"What makes you think that?"

"When you guys were going after Bucky...I think that's when it all happened."

"But that was several years ago?"

"Exactly."

You unbuckled your seatbelts and stood up, picking up your duffel bags as the opening gates dropped down and you stepped off the ramp to an awaiting Bucky, Sam, Clint and Peter.

"Y/N!" Peter rushed forward, squeezing you in a tight hug. "Hi! You're home early!"

"Yeah, I am," you grinned ruffling his hair as you pulled apart. "You make sure Bucky and Sam didn't misbehave?"

Sam shot you a glare as Peter replied. "Well, they were alright. Happy dropped me off here yesterday and I monitored their Mario Kart matches to make sure nobody killed someone, so yeah. Clint was good too."

You went over to Bucky as Natasha went to talk to Sam and Clint about mission details."

"Y/L/N."

"Barnes."

"How was the flight?" His hard expression softened slight as he gave you a quick hug. "I heard everything went pretty well."

"Yeah, it was okay. A bit jet-lagged, but other than that I'm fine. And speaking of flight! I got you guys something."

You motioned for Nat to bring the box of pastries from the jet, and as soon as she did everyone's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Dude, you're the best," Sam exclaimed as he bit into an eclair. "I love Parisian pastries."

"We don't wanna be here too long, now do we?" Clint spoke up. "Y/N, I think you have a special someone to surprise inside."

"Oh?" you raised an eyebrow at the archer before following him and the others inside the compound.

Steve was busy reading a news article on his phone at the kitchen island, sitting there in a plain grey T-shirt and dark jeans when he looked up and met your gaze.

"Hey, soldier," you greeted with a smirk, "miss me?"

His face broke into a grin as he set his phone down. "You're back early."

"Fury was a bit more lenient this time," you shrugged, taking your hands out of your jacket pockets, "so he let us go. Since we got the job done pretty fast."

He chuckled lightly, pulling you close in response and wrapping his strong arms around you. "I'm glad you're back."

"So I take it you really missed me, huh."

"You could put it that way."

"Like hell he missed you. You should've seen him while you were gone, Christ," Sam groaned. "He wouldn't eat anything solid for an entire week."

"Oh!" Wanda piped up, "I believe he has something to tell you? Right, Steve?"

"No, I don't?"

"Uh, we'll leave now, then," Clint awkwardly cleared his throat. "Let's give these two a minute."

With that, they calmly filed out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you to yourselves.

"You look tired," Steve raised an eyebrow at you as he noticed the dark circles under your eyes.

"You look worse," you joked, earning a small laugh from him as you circled your arms around his torso. "I'm just a bit jet-lagged. The ten hour time difference wasn't very kind to me."

"Well, I'm glad you're back," he breathed out, "I missed you."

"Ah, there it is," you mumbled into his chest. "But yeah, I missed you too. And here I was starting to think Captain America didn't have the heart to care for someone so much."

"Only for you, Y/N," he chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, "only for you."

“Wait a second,” you pulled away and saw a familiar piece of paper sticking out of his jacket pocket, “what’s that?”

Your eyes widened as you pulled it out and realized it was the letter you’d written him several months back. “Oh shit...”

“Was I not supposed to read this?’

“NO!”

“It was addressed to me, though...?”

“I never meant for you to read it!” you hissed, “Now give it back!”

“Ah ah ah! I don’t think so.”

You let out an annoyed groan, going up on your tiptoes to try and snatch the paper out of his hand. “Screw you, Rogers. Why do you have to be so damn tall?”

You jumped up and down in an attempt to get the letter back for several minutes until you finally gave up, arms growing sore. When he towered half a foot above you, it was hopeless.

Your hands landed against his chest as you let them fall and you just stood there for a few seconds, or minutes, maybe, in utter silence, with his warm breath falling against your neck and you hated yourself for wanting this moment to last longer. 

The air was suddenly buzzing with anticipation, like the world was holding its breath to see what was to come next. Steve’s gaze lingered on your lips before he tilted his head downwards, placing a hand on the small of your back and pulling you in for a kiss. 

His lips met your own so softly, so gently that you swore that you were dreaming for a split second, and you let out a sigh as your arms slid around his waist and tightened their grip around him. 

“In case I haven’t made it obvious enough, either,” he hummed, “I’m in love with you too.”

You felt heat rise up your cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to read that!”

“Too bad,” he smirked, resting his chin on your head, “I read it already, three times. You bet I’ll be keeping this for myself.”

“I hate you so much.”

“That’s not what the letter says.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Fine! I love you.”

Steve laughed lightly. “I love you too, Y/N.”

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 16

////TW SA mentioned/hinted at/// Depiction of a panic attack as well

The hospital was a buzz with energy, which was a bit weird considering how small the town was. Were there really this many patients today? You honestly didn't know, hell for the longest time you weren't even sure this was a hospital when you moved here.

That was changed recently, like very recent. Last night in fact when you had been forced awake by medical staff trying to determine your condition. That sadist doctor of yours kept a small smile on their face the entire time you groaned about wanting sleep. They had simply tutted at you saying you needed to be monitored for several hours before they could let you rest.

Thankfully you hadn't seen them today but it was only ten thirty. A lovely nurse had been checking in with you all morning, even before you woke up. He'd come in when you had buzzed after waking up in pain and given you a dose of your medicine through your IV drip. When you questioned him about where you were he seemed to still in concern. Worried that you hadn't remembered your accident that lead you here.

After assuring him and giving him a play by play of your day yesterday, giving him the assumed day, and answering who the current president was he let you off the hook. Mark, your nurse, had been very keen to tell you the Cowell family is in charge of your care and will be here later in the day to visit with you. Granted you actually feel up to visitors. Which you take as code for 'would you like me to deny visitors?'.

You let him know you'll be fine with visits after ten. Knowing full well how fast news can travel in the small town it's only a matter of time before a parade of Hornets meander through to check in on you. First you wanted to grab your bearings before being thrown to your overly concerned friends.

Or maybe they weren't overly concerned after all you did just experience a home invasion that left you hospitalized. Simply being concerned is a natural reaction to your situation. But your head hurts just thinking about anything right now. So, you'd like to take a moment for yourself, have a bit of time to process everything.

Either way you'd been right, news travels fast in this small town. Nearly all the lodge residents had been waiting for an hour to see you when ten rolled around. At ten on the dot Aubrey, Barclay, and Jake stormed into your room and surrounded you like piranhas in a frenzy. You looked towards Dani, Hollis, Kirby, and several other lodge staff members for help only to get small smiles and a shake of the head.

They wouldn't be helping you out of this anytime soon. You just had to endure the genuine concern and affection from your friends. Luckily for your splitting head the visit only lasts thirty minutes before everyone has to leave. Life still goes on even when a loved one is in the hospital. With several promises to return tomorrow and requests that you take it easy the rambunctious group was gone.

You relax into your bed before turning on the TV and finding something mind numbing to watch. The food network works! You hope Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives is in the roll today. You're in luck as it starts playing right after the commercials.

The voice of your doctor is getting closer to your room. Great if you weren't already upset by the atrocity happening with the pizza at that restaurant then you are surely in a sour mood now.

“Well sir we hope you can reason with the child. They have simply fought us each time we've brought up the tests. We'd say it was mildly impressive that they held such coherence last night, had it not been for the headache it has given us.”

Oh here we fucking go again.

“I don't need the tests.”

No one had made it through the threshold before you spoke. Everyone froze at your cold tone. Until the doctor makes a motion towards you.

“As you can see, they're very stubborn.”

“I'm not stubborn you're just not listening to me. I haven't had sex in a year so I don't need a pregnancy test and I just got bashed around last night. I don't need an invasive search done.” You ignore the Cowell family as you speak to the doctor, “I find it concerning how keen you are to do a rape test on me even though I've repeatedly told you I just got banged up in the scuffle. Nothing more.”

The doctor still has their small smile placed just ever so on their face. There's something really off about them. Even under normal circumstances you hate hospitals and doctors. Mainly because they never listen to you about your issues, something you know would be even worse if you had 'Autistic' labeled in a medical file. But something about this doctor seriously rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you two knew each other in  previous life and it was coming back to bite you in the ass now.

“Doc, the kid says they don' need a test, then they don' need the test.” Big Jo says breaking the staring contest between you and the doctor as they slide their gaze away from you to look at Big Jo.

You take no little satisfaction from seeing their stupid smile finally leave their face. It isn't long before it's replaces and they bound over to you. Poking and prodding you, jabbing with a lot more force than they should need to. After a small adjustment to your IV they clear you for this check up and allow the Cowells to have their visit with you.

“Something's off about them.” you say cautiously after the family steps into the room.

Big Jo sighs, “Ye' but they took care 'o ya last night kid.” Ushering his family through he closes the door behind them only to turn back to you with a stern expression, “so ya better play nice with 'em got it?”

Fighting back the intense urge to roll your eyes you nod, before turning to Little Jo who's made her way over to your bedside in her hands several thick graphic novels. The same ones your store started to carry a few weeks back. Looking up from the books you see her watery and puffy eyes. What she takes from Big Jo in personality she takes from her mother in empathy.

“I-I-I yip-yip I thought yip you might get bored so I yup wanted to let you borr-yip-borrow these.”

When she places the books onto the small table beside your bed you can see the tremors that rake through her hands. Choosing not to comment or bring any attention on the tween's obvious nerves you settle for an ice breaker.

“Thanks, don't know how much more crimes against pizza I can stomach.” motioning to the TV where a man is making paper thin crust on pizza to have a pizza that cooks in a minute.

That's not pizza it's cooked cheese and tomato sauce with toppings. Not pizza at all.

Jo nods softly, her normal enthusiasm no where to be found today. A pang rips through your chest as you watch her eyes cast downwards. With no clue how to help her feel better you have to swallow the sigh in your throat to not make the air heavier than it already is. Dia and Big Jo aren't much help either when you spare them a glance.

Dia herself is wiping her eyes with a tissue and sniffles escape her every few seconds. Not much is different bout Big Jo, he may have more prominent eye bags today but you weren't going to judge him for not sleeping. Even under normal circumstances you didn't have ground to stand on. Mark mentioned Big Jo was the one who found you from what he'd over heard at the nurses' station this morning.

Knowing this made the foreboding feeling in your stomach grow. The way he's looking at you with his cold stoney stare-he's not even really looking at you more through you. But his stare pierces you and sends the pit in your stomach lower than you thought possible. If it wasn't so chilly in the room you'd probably be sweating right now.

“Dia, why don' ya take Josephine home.”

Hearing this you lift your hand up to Little Jo before she has a chance to scurry out of the room with her mother. She looks at your hand and then back to you before launching herself into you with a crushing hug. Gravity doesn't help your case as the child's entire weight is on your prone form, you hadn't sat up when they came into the room.

“Get better soon.” the pain was worth it to hear the small plea. She at least felt a little better if she could talk without her vocal tic interrupting her.

After you pat her on the back and promise to rest up she's out the door with her sobbing mother. It's a quiet few moments after the door shuts before Jo takes a step towards your bed. If the pit in your stomach went any lower you're sure you'd be able to see your insides. The hulking man takes a seat in the chair next to your bed sighing as he leans back rubbing his face.

“Tell me what happened kid.”

You relay the events of your day to him. How you and Toby had gone out of town for slushies, gotten caught in so much traffic that you felt it was a punishment from God himself. The funny feeling you had after dropping Toby off, the one that said just to go straight home. And how you had a feeling someone had just been in your home. You left nothing out about the altercation with ski mask. That wasn't saying much because you only remember the ski mask and how you tried to claw their face off. When Jo pressed you for a physical description you weren't any help. Having been too caught up in survival mode you only registered the stupid frowny face on the ski mask as being a key detail...but any fool could laser transfer a decal. And the same went for that painted mask, anyone could grab an art store face mask and block paint some black over the features.

Vaguely you recall them wearing a jacket. Had it been red, yeah like a burnt burgundy maybe? It wasn't a lot to go on and seemed to frustrate Jo even more, if the pinching of his nose was anything to go by.

“You are aware of the situation, yea?” his accent has dropped, he's speaking in a more neutral tone and inflection. This might be the most rattling moment of the week-and it's only Tuesday.

He isn't looking at you so you give a quiet 'yes sir' in response.

“Kid your car got broken into on my lot. Your home gets invaded and you get bashed around/ All this a few months after my other front end girlie disappears in the middle of the night.”

A lump forms in your throat at the mention of Bambi. You can see the pattern he's stringing together, honestly you saw it long before today. You'd just been sloppy and took too much time to gather evidence of your stalkers' existence.  Bambi's disappearance wasn't voluntary and it looks like you may be next.

“Called Lydia already and we're upping the security at the cottage. Until I'm satisfied with the level of security you will be staying with us.”

“I co-cou” the lump was hard to speak around, “I can't impose like that, it's fine I'll-”

“You'll just what sleep in your car become an easier target? Go gallivanting to towns miles away where no one knows you.” his harsh words cause you to sputter, “For Christ's sake YN we don't know who we're dealing with right now!”

You don't make eye contact with Jo. You can't make eye contact he's raised his voice. You're lucky you're laying down or else you'd be rocking back and forth right now.

“Unless you have a clue who's out there and the police catch them, this decision is final. This isn't up for debate YN.” he finishes harshly

Even though he's finished you still can't look at him, your nerves are so shot and all you can do is bite your lip.

“Look I...I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing you weren't out on your own while this gets handled. Josephine looks up to ya like an older sibling, she'd be crushed if you ended up like Bambi. Same goes for Dia. And I don't want that for my girls.” he says softly, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that Jo leaves you in the room after informing you that they'd be back to check you out of the hospital tomorrow. And that you could expect a visit from Sheriff Owens at some point before then.

Even after Jo leaves it feels like someone has your heart in a vice. And every few beats they squeeze it, constricting the flow of freshly oxidized blood to your body. For good measure they try to yank the organ straight from your chest cavity but just end up bruising your rib cage.

Oh God you can't breathe, you're trying but you can't tell if you are or aren't anymore. The beeping of you heart monitor is increasing with each second. It's annoying ringing is too much and you need to rip the cords from you immediately. That just makes the ringing worse as it flat lines not finding any beating or rhythm under your skin.

Soon you're swarmed with a team of nurses trying to settle you down in your panic induced haze. Their grabbing hands and forceful touches burn your skin and light a fire that travels through your veins; and only serves to make you thrash more. Taking a swing at the nurse who holds a needle you continue your struggle against the other bodies holding you down as she stumbles away.

A few nurses rush in from the door to help her, not that you notice.

So many of the sounds are merging together and you can't understand anything. From the shrill beep of the heart monitor, the voices calling out at various pitches, footsteps. Everything forms into one gigantic frantic pitch in your already fried mind.

A growl rips through the room, you can feel the vibration of it all over you. Did that come from you?

In an instant all hands are off of your panting form and just before you can sit up a deep pressure is applied to your torso. Warmth seeps into you as the pressure lowers itself onto your body. Effectively ending your meltdown and lulling you into a dissociative state.

Floating is the only way you can describe it. The sensation of weightlessness and a gentle rocking caused by the adrenaline trying to defuse itself back into the body. Or the foggy haze that clouds your mind as you try to remember what just happened. Trying to rational the series of events and this outcome. But nothing comes to you except more brain fog. A confusing storm of frustration and vulnerability hits you. And you are left powerless to do anything. You can't kick your legs or scream as much as you want to.

The weight on top of you is forcing a calm to wash over you while the emotions inside wish to break free like a whirlwind. Your distress kick starting the whirlwind back up again only to die like a camp fire in a thunderstorm when you can't get any sort of momentum to your tantrum.

You can only loose yourself to the fogginess drifting further away from your psychical body. Completely unaware of the world around you as it washes away into nothingness.

When the floating feeling finally lifts you have to blink to shake off the remaining stupor. You're able to tell there is still a heavy weight on top of you but also something holding down your left hand. You turn away from the wall that you've been staring blankly at for hours, if your sore neck is anything to go by, and see Connor perking up at your movement.

“Hey bud,” you raise a hand to ruffle his ear and he lays his big head back onto your chest. “hey Tobes.” voice cracking as you greet the man you assume is holding your hand in a death grip, not once looking up from Connor.

There's a tight squeeze on your hand and you have to close your eyes and take a minute to collect yourself before turning to face him. The last thing you remember before drifting off was a group of nurses trying to sedate you. Having no clue what went on after that and when Toby came in you're preparing for the worst. Finally facing him you pause when you make eye contact.

“Jesus! What happened to-to-to you!?”

When you'd last seen him you'd dropped Toby off in the same shape you got him. Now he's sporting a heavily swollen black eye, one that looks pretty bade considering his nose bridge is also swelling a bit. It almost looks like it's pulsing. The dark purple bruise and deep red bleeding from under it to spread away from the injury is such a drastic contrast to his weirdly grayish complexion. You aren't sure if the black eye is actually that bad or if it just looks that way due to Toby's lack of melanin.

“Tim and I got into a fight.” his one good eye cuts to the side, “Barkclay had to split us up. Drove me here to get it checked out, it's fine.” He's dismissing it, they probably can't figure out if his eye really is fine right now, since he can't feel pain and that thing looks tightly swollen shut.

“Barclay.” is the only thing you can manage to say. Your brain wasn't prepared for most things right now and it's having trouble processing the gnarly injury mixed with complete nonchalance.

His lips pull back into a smile and not one you've seen from him before. Sure you've pulled a couple genuine mirth filled smiles out of him, or seen his teasing smirks, or bashful shy smiles when you've been out with others. But this smile, if you could even call it that-it was more like he was barring his teeth. Toby looked ready for another fight or like he was a feral predator about to rip out it's prey's jugular. There's a brief flash of a image that pops into your mind's eye, one of Toby's bloodstained face with this exact expression, teeth soaked red with blood and chunks of flesh in between . A chill runs through you at the thought. Had Connor not been laying on top of you, you would have shivered.

The instant you squeeze Toby's hand, the smile wipes off his face and he stares down at your interlocked hands. He returns the gesture before bringing his other hand over. Looking up at you through his eyelashes he flips your hand and when your expression doesn't change and you don't pull away he begins to play with your fingers.

“What was the fight about?”

“I don't have to answer that.” his tone is short and clipped.

You don't press the subject, obviously Toby doesn't want to talk about it. And you're fine with that, anyway if the fight was bad enough for Barclay to need to break it up and he drove Toby here you can assume Tim instigated and is probably getting kicked back out into the RV with no AC. As bad as it sounds you could care less. Toby's your friend not Tim, you only care if Toby's ok and while he may have a very fucked up eye in the future, right now he seems like normal Toby. A bit more irritated and on edge but that's normal after a stressful day. Hell you punched a nurse a few hours ago.

“What happened to you?”

There's a small part of you that wants to sass Toby, that you don't have to answer that. Thankfully the rational side reminds you that fight with a roommate is very different than having been beaten in a home invasion. Once again retelling your story but this time starting after you dropped Toby off. No need in going into as much detail as you went into with Jo or how much you'll need to go into with the sheriff. Toby's hands would grip yours tightly throughout your recounting. It's one of the reasons you didn't go into a ton of detail. Understanding your friend is barely holding on by  a string on his good days you aren't about to load your stress along with his already eventful day.

“You can't stay there alone.” he says after you finish the recap.

“Uh duh? Like Jo's already ordered me under house arrest at his house.”

It's like the tension leaks out of him like air leaving a balloon with the way he deflates after you say that. His grip loosens on you hand and he goes back to idly playing with your fingers.

“Good...that's good.” he nods to himself.

In the silence of this hospital room with his service dog on you instead of attending to his clear anxiety ridden form, you realize Toby's a lot more caring than his exterior lets on. The brunette might not wear his heart on his sleeve but it's easy to see it once you know what you're looking for. In this moment as battered and bruised as he is, even the potential possibility of loosing function in his left eye, he's more concerned with you. Whether it's low self worth or just how he treats friends you'll have to find out later.

“Hey...Tobias, I'm here y'know?” you start to sit up waving off a pecking Connor. Once you're far enough up you retract from Toby's grip, which he does fight you on a little. And you reach out further to his bicep, you can't quite reach his shoulder in this position.

“I'm ok Tobes, I'm here.” for some reason 'Tobias' doesn't sound right for this moment.

Toby doesn't give much of a reaction which is fine since you weren't really expecting one. He places his hand over yours for a moment before bringing it back into his grip and fixates on playing with your fingers once again.

With a smile you go to pet Connor with you free hand, hoping Toby might shake himself out of this funk. After a bit of petting you grow restless with the lack of stimulation and ask Toby to pass you on of the graphic novels Little Jo left for you.

It's easier than you thought reading with one hand would be, especially since you can prop the book on Connor who doesn't seem to mind. Pup is resting across your legs now that both humans in the room are stable enough to function without his intervention.

When you finish the first book Toby speaks up, eye still focused on your hand in his. And you find out that although the series isn't his normal thing he did enjoy the art style and a few of the jokes. He waits for you to finish each book before talking more about them and the arc of the story they laid out. Opening up for the two of you to have a nice discussion on the fantasy game based series. It's honestly so much fun for you, where you lack in background awareness Toby is quick to fill you in and point out little ques the writers and artist dropped. In return you're right there explaining character motives and the subtle looks of a character's eyes.

It's a fun few hours before visiting hours are over. And Toby paused at the door before he left, he looked like he wanted to say something but held back. Just as he turned to leave you call out.

“Get home safe.” it's normally his line but you aren't going anywhere tonight.

“I will....get well soon. I'll see ya later.”

There's that awkward smile! You can barely contain the beaming one you sent him before he left. Despite being hospitalized for injuries sustained by a home invasion from your potential stalker...well plural now, you've had a pretty great day.

Fuck that sounds so bad. Should you feel guilty about forgetting your messed up circumstances? No, no everything is getting sorted out. If anything this is going along with your plans for Big Jo to help you out. This was more than enough evidence to prove that you aren't just paranoid. And you're about to have a safe place to hang while this all gets settled.

The fact that you got injured is less than ideal but this is what you get for being sloppy and unfocused.

You have a lot of faith in your boss, you know this will be dealt with. Thinking back to everyone who came to see you today...you just hope everyone can be as confident as you are that this will all end soon.

[mopeytropey]

a beer bud series: chapter 11

author’s note: times are tough. stay safe. read some fluffy fic. take care of each other.

Timeline: this is set just before Lincoln and Octavia's wedding, probably in the realm of chapters 11 and 12 of apu, after Clarke has given Lexa a key and asked her to move in (because they are both too gay to function)

Beer: La Ferme Urbaine FARMHOUSE ALE

Influenced by the Belgian saison style, La Ferme Urbaine features a complex blend of German hops, pilsner and pale malts, wheat, rye, oats, and spelt. The beer pours a hazy straw color and delivers a spicy, dry finish.

ABV 7.8%

Posted to AO3 here, or below the cut: 

:::

:::

“This is going to require some intense renovations.” Lexa stands with her hands in her front pockets, neck craned towards a dilapidated two-story house on a small corner lot. Its Victorian architecture is nearly eclipsed by peeling paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch, but the way Lincoln’s face beams, it’s as if the house shows no signs of disrepair. “You sure you’re up to task?”

“Hell, yeah.” Lincoln’s confidence is as strong as the late afternoon sun, glaring in a burning orange glow as it reflects off the windows of the historic city buildings surrounding them.

He then launches into an animated diatribe of improvements and restoration projects, pacing the perimeter of the property as he gestures to certain aspects of the house with broad hands. He and Octavia have likely discussed these visions of their future home endlessly as they await inspection reports and closing signatures to make everything final. Their initial offer had been accepted almost immediately, and Lexa has to believe it is thanks to, in part (if not entirely), the authenticity of her good friend’s charming demeanor.

“It’ll be a massive undertaking, but with the right help—”

“You planning to swing a sledge with me during the demo stage?” Lincoln grins.

“God, no.” Lexa nearly shudders. “Though I imagine Clarke might enjoy the destructive release of aggression after some of her more challenging bar shifts.”

Lincoln chuckles and returns to stand by Lexa’s side as they continue to gaze up at the house. “Yeah, Octavia too.”

“I’m so excited for you.” Lexa smiles up at him, nudging their shoulders together as Lincoln meets her eye with a grin of his own. “About everything.”

His upcoming nuptials (which have explicitly been banned from being referred to as a wedding) are less than two months away, and Lincoln hopes to have the keys to their new house in hand before the ceremony. He and Octavia seem happier than ever—real life exemplars of a healthy, supportive relationship between two friends in love. Lexa feels a kindred satisfaction at having found something similar with Clarke. Perhaps no one would have predicted these outcomes, but she and Lincoln have done rather well for a couple of kids who spent years feeling unwanted and unloved.

“What can I say: I’m living my best life.”

“Truly,” Lexa laughs, leaning into the nook of Lincoln’s armpit as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Even for early April, the weather has warmed, and the sun hangs in the sky for longer intervals. There’s no longer a bite in the air, even in the cooler, evening temperature. The breezes coming in off of the harbor have a fresh scent, like rejuvenation in the air that will soon breed blossoms on all the trees and fresh shoots of grass beneath their feet.

Lexa is perfectly comfortable in her jeans and a soft, grey henley layered with a pastel flannel that she has permanently borrowed from Clarke’s side of the closet. A closet that they now share in an official capacity. Lexa’s mouth slopes into a stupid grin at the thought of their now shared space. Her stomach swoops because of the new gold key in her pocket that she can feel between her fingers.

“I could say the same for you,” Lincoln tells her, somehow reading her thoughts. “You get all your stuff moved in yet?”

Her breath stutters at the mention of it, at the vision of scattered boxes and her random belongings that have slowly infiltrated Clarke’s space. “My lease isn’t up until the end of the month, so I’ve been moving things gradually.”

“Not ready to fully commit, huh?” Lincoln jabs with a teasing grin.

“I feel exceptionally confident about it, thank you very much.”

“What? Just like that?” Lincoln laughs. “Where is the torturous, internal Lexa struggle? Where are the mountains of anxiety about making the wrong call or moving too fast? Is this what four months as Clarke’s girlfriend has done to you?”

Lexa shrugs as if her chest hasn’t just snapped like a rubber band at being called Clarke’s girlfriend, a title that still sparks jittery excitement. Particularly when she is still grasping the house key that Clarke has recently given her. “Apparently.”

“Well, it’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks.”

They’ve stopped at the house Lincoln intends to buy with Octavia on their way to food and beer at Dockside, having fallen into the habit of visiting the girls during their longest shift of the week. With the mention of Clarke and the newest development in their relationship, Lexa feels a sudden wave of impatience to continue their walk to the bar where she knows Clarke and Octavia will be waiting to greet them.

Lincoln releases a long, contented sigh. “Should we head down to see the girls?”

Lexa exhales in turn and attempts to answer in a measured and completely unhurried manner: “Sure.”

:::

It’s just shy of six when Lincoln pulls open the front door of Dockside, allowing Lexa to walk through into the familiar establishment. Her eyes perform a practiced scan of the room, but Clarke isn’t immediately visible as she and Lincoln head straight for the half-empty bar counter.

Octavia is chatting with other customers as Lexa and Lincoln approach, but she winks at Lincoln, her mouth curving just so, mid-conversation, which has him beaming as he slides into a bar stool.

“That’s my future wife,” he stage whispers, and Lexa can’t help but smile at how ridiculous being in love with Octavia has made him.

They’d been more than halfway to the bar when Lexa had received an S.O.S from Clarke about caffeine and sudden fatigue and exaggerated pronouncements of loyalty, commitment, and sexual favors if Lexa would bring her coffee. Of course, it strictly goes against her better judgement to enable Clarke’s reliance on caffeine in unhealthy measurements.

Then again, Lexa has lost almost all ability to ever actually tell her no because being in love with Clarke has made her better judgements ridiculously feeble.

As such, she stands beside Lincoln with a small half-caf drip in a paper cup from Clarke’s favorite roaster, a generous concession without fully giving in to her girlfriend’s unredeemable habit.

“Clarke’s in the back if you want to bring that to her,” Octavia says as she approaches.

“Oh. Okay.” Lexa starts for the black swinging door of storage before Octavia calls out again.

“Sorry—not the stockroom. The other back.” She’s jutting her thumb over her shoulder when Lexa turns around, indicating the narrow corridor behind the bar counter that leads to Clarke’s office and the back entrance.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” Lexa smiles. “I’ll be right back,” she says to Lincoln.

“I’m starting a timer on my phone,” he calls after her. “Just because I’m curious to see how long it takes you to deliver a cup of coffee.”

She just manages to stop herself from flipping him off before pushing through the door, leaving him with a meaningless scowl.

:::

Clarke looks up from whatever she’s been working on as Lexa steps into the open doorway with a smile she intends to curb by biting her lower lip.

“Hey.”

“Oh my god, I can't believe you actually brought me coffee. I love you.” Clarke says it offhand, a bit theatrically even, but Lexa’s stomach flip-flops all the same.

She enters the office with a slow stride and gently places the paper cup onto Clarke’s desk. “That’s half decaf, by the way.”

Clarke’s face falls as she eyes the beverage with sudden disdain. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we have to break up.”

“Ouch. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Get over here.” Clarke has already snared her wrist with a widening smile, pulling at Lexa’s arm so that she is forced to lean across the desk and meet Clarke’s waiting grin. “Hi,” she almost whispers after their lips part.

“Is this how you typically break up with people? Because it’s actually pretty enjoyable,” Lexa murmurs into the space between their lips.

“Shut up,” Clarke laughs before they are kissing again, Lexa’s palms flat against the desktop while Clarke’s fingers thread into her hair.

It’s still a soft greeting and nothing obscene—two people happy to be in the same space again after a short time apart—but Lexa feels the quickening of her pulse all the same.

“Thank you for my fake coffee.”

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

Never before has she felt so unapologetically mocked by a single person yet utterly enamored in spite of it. Lexa pinches her lips together and looks away from Clarke’s teasing smile.

“I have to get back out there,” she announces, finally pulling back to stand at her full height. “Lincoln thinks he’s being clever by setting a timer for my return.”

Clarke stands with a laugh. “I’ll come with you. I need a break from these orders anyway.” She holds her fake coffee with one hand and finds Lexa’s fingers with the other. She kisses Lexa’s shoulder cap and regards her fondly. “I’m never getting this shirt back, am I?”

“Especially not now that we’ve broken up.”

The genuine hurt that immediately darkens Clarke’s eyes coupled with her protruding lower lip stops Lexa from moving towards the office doorway.

She stills her movements entirely as Clarke says, “I don’t want to joke about breaking up anymore.”

“It was your joke to begin with,” Lexa softly reminds her, nevertheless smoothing the pad of her thumb over Clarke’s lower lip.

“I know,” Clarke says, frowning still. “It was a stupid joke, and I don’t like to think about it.”

A soft press of her lips to Clarke’s forehead has her leaning into the touch, releasing Lexa’s fingers to curl an arm around Lexa’s waist.

“If you think you would be able to get rid of me that easily, Clarke, we might need to revisit some previous conversations about my intentions in being with you.”

“I seem to recall some very persuasive measures that we engaged in alongside those conversations,” Clarke says, her smile pressing into Lexa’s neck where she has tucked her head beneath Lexa’s chin.

Lexa hums through a smile of her own. If she didn’t know Clarke so well, it would be easy to mistake her perpetual, single-minded focus on sex as a complete lack of sentimentality.

But, Lexa isn’t fooled.

Clarke thrives on crass innuendo and well-meaning objectification (both of herself and Lexa), but she can also be openly sensitive and affectionate. Vulnerable in her need to be near Lexa—to feel safe and connected—as often as possible.

Lexa can’t say for sure if they will always be so desperate for each other’s company, if small fractions of time spent apart will continue to breed an urgency for reuniting. She has been in enough relationships to know that attachments usually fade and the needs of each person most often change over time.

Still, something tells her that when it comes to this relationship, Clarke will break the mold of every truth Lexa has previously known.

“The point is: I’m not going anywhere,” Lexa tells her, and Clarke looks up at her with a renewed smile. “Although, you’re still not getting this shirt back.”

Clarke kisses the underside of her jaw and tightens the hold she has around her waist. “You can keep all of my shirts as long as I get to keep you.”

“Deal,” Lexa answers, finally leading them out of the office.

Lincoln will roast her for having taken an exorbitant amount of time to deliver Clarke’s coffee, but having Clarke hugged against her side, Lexa finds she doesn’t exactly care.

:::

In an hour’s time Lexa has been fed no less than six times—small plates of food from the kitchen’s rotating menu like an assembly line in front of her and Lincoln—and an empty beer glass is no sooner bussed than another full one appears. As it turns out, dating a bar manager and sustaining a lifelong friendship with her business partner’s fiancé is a pretty good gig for libations and keeping well fed. By 8:00, she’s not necessarily sober, but the continuous parade of appetizers that Octavia and Clarke slide in front of Lexa and Lincoln keep her from tipping over the edge into properly drunk.

“This one is my favorite.”

“You’ve said that about the last three.”

Lincoln crunches into his charred nopales and street corn tostada as if to be sure. “Nope. This is the one.”

Lexa smiles around a second bite of her Korean short ribs and savors the balanced marinade—a perfect blend of smoky sweetness and tangy spice.

She is washing it down with a saison from Rhode Island as Octavia swings out of the kitchen and approaches their end of the bar.

“How good is that corn?”

“The whole thing is amazing,” Lincoln tells her.

Octavia swipes an avocado off his plate without hesitation. “What about the Kalbi?”

It sounds conversational, the way that Octavia, as a friend, is asking Lexa about her meal. But, in spending the past year of her life in proximal relation to her, Lexa has determined that, in some capacity, Octavia is actually always working.

“These are easily some of the best short ribs I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah,” Octavia grins. “I’m obsessed with them. Jane has been on staff for less than two months, and she’s already killing it back there.”

“Be sure to extend my compliments to the chef. Beer is incredible, too,” Lexa adds.

“What did Clarke bring you this time? The Foolproof?”

“Their farmhouse, yeah.” Lexa’s attention is drawn to the kitchen doorway again as Clarke exits carrying plates of food. She doesn’t glance in their direction as she drops the plates farther down the bar, but her smile is warm and bright, and Lexa can’t look away.

There’s a generous crowd strung along the bar counter, plus a few of the nearby tables that keep rotating with guests who stay for a drink or two before heading off into the night. Clarke is engaging with the three men who have just received their plates of food, and Lexa’s ears attune to the friendly pitch of her voice while Octavia and Lincoln momentarily hold their own conversation.

Lexa sips her saison and enjoys the way Clarke handles herself in conversation—confident, approachable, friendly, but with a distant professionalism. It’s not until she registers the distinct tone of patriarchal arrogance coming from a few of Clarke’s guests that Lexa realizes Octavia and Lincoln have also clued into the nearby exchange.

From what Lexa can gather, over the din of other surrounding patrons, the men are attempting to challenge the accuracy of Clarke’s knowledge on one of Dockside’s pours. Clearly first-time patrons, to these men, Clarke is easily mistaken as the beautiful bartender in a nice dress with a friendly demeanor who pours their pints and delivers their food. They would never suspect that she is also the unassuming curator of every beer offered within the establishment and a well-read expert in the field of craft brewing.

If she didn’t find misogynistic biases against women in male-dominated fields to be nauseatingly unforgivable, Lexa would almost feel bad for what these guys have coming to them.

“This should be good,” Lincoln mutters with a deviant smile, and Lexa flicks her gaze to find Octavia looking half-amused, half-poised for lethal intervention.

In short, Clarke absolutely eviscerates the men’s inflated egos by seamlessly rattling off a short history on the brewery in question, explaining their evolution of kettle sours and dry-hopped IPAs with thrilling precision, all while maintaining her hospitable smile. The cohort of sexist men are left silenced and stunned as Clarke moves on to tend to the rest of the bar, leaving their gaping jaws in her wake.

“What a bunch of fucking morons,” Octavia grumbles with an eye roll just before another table of guests catches her attention and she is pulled away.

“I love it when she does that,” Lexa says, smiling in Lincoln’s direction.

“It is really gratifying to watch someone’s fragile masculinity skillfully shattered,” he agrees with a satisfied smile. “I’ll never understand it, that intrinsic need to be an expert on everything, but it’s entertaining as hell to see O and Clarke flex on these random assholes who waltz in here and mistakenly try to out-beer them.”

Lexa's smile widens as she and Lincoln clink their beer glasses together. “It really is.”

:::

“One strand of lights.”

“No.”

“A single banner. A classy one.”

“No.”

“Candles. Come on, O, no one can say no to candles.”

“Watch me.” Octavia, who up until this point had been withholding eye contact, gives Clarke a pointed glare. “No.”

Lexa smiles at Clarke’s frustrated groan while sipping her glass of water. Three-and-a-half pints of beer and countless plates of food have left her feeling fully satisfied if not also ready for bed. Clarke won’t close the bar for another few hours, and though Lexa acknowledges this is the reality of their chosen professions, she also wishes to steal Clarke away and take her home for a cuddle.  

“Think about Lincoln,” Clarke continues, beating her dead wedding horse, much to Octavia’s dismay. “You’re depriving him of this fanfare, this pizazz, this well-deserved—”

“Don’t drag him into this,” Octavia interjects.

Clarke’s jaw drops. “He’s literally one half of the reason we’re celebrating! And honestly, with how difficult you’re being about this whole thing, it might be more like 70/30.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and starts to walk away, busying herself with clearing empty glasses from a table whose guests have just vacated. “When you two leave, will you take her with you?”

Her voice carries across the now mostly empty bar, and Clarke scowls at Octavia from where Lexa and Lincoln sit at the far end of the counter. They often lay claim to this section of the bar during their Wednesday night visits, and it always feels like a sacred, little huddle.

“That’s a tempting offer,” Lexa answers as Octavia breezes past them to deposit the empty glasses into her bus tub behind the bar.

Her comment successfully erases the look on Clarke’s face as their eyes meet, and she watches Clarke’s frown melt into a dopey smile.

“I’m not leaving you to close by yourself. Stop being so dramatic,” Clarke admonishes, though she is still smiling as her eyes leave Lexa to look over her shoulder at Octavia.

“I’m not by myself,” Octavia grunts, hoisting her black bin of glassware and dirty plates off a low shelf. “Jane and Murph are in the back. Take the orders home and finish them there. You know the last two hours of the night are the slowest midweek. I’ll be fine.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me just because you’re throwing a fit about candles,” Clarke shouts after her even though Octavia has already pushed through into the kitchen.

Their small end of the bar counter temporarily swells with music blaring from the line cooks and back-of-house staff, a stark contrast to the lo-fi hip hop Clarke has playing on a lower volume in the main room.

“I should get home either way,” Lexa admits with a short stretch of her arms, pulling taut the muscles of her back. “You fed me too well, and now I’m sleepy.”

“You’re a grandma every night of the week—in bed before ten or cranky as hell the next day.”

Lexa furrows her brow at Clarke’s unnecessarily accurate depiction of her sleep routines, but Lincoln laughs openly while nudging her shoulder.

“This one’s never been able to burn the midnight oil. Needs that beauty rest to maintain her cheerful disposition.”

“I’m officially breaking up with both of you.”

“Hey.”

Clarke’s pout is back, the color of her eyes saturated in renewed hurt at Lexa’s bad joke. Three-and-a-half beers have also made her forgetful, apparently.

“Sorry, sorry.” She reaches for Clarke’s wrists across the glossed wood of the bar and is gently rubbing her thumbs across Clarke’s pulse points when Octavia reemerges. “Just Lincoln then.”

Lincoln offers a good-natured shrug. “That’s fair.”

“See?” Octavia eyes the affectionate gesture between Clarke and Lexa with a practiced look of exasperation. “You could be doing this loved up shit in the privacy of your own home.”

“Says the one who is about to profess her undying love and commitment publicly in front of all our closest friends,” Clarke argues.

“I feel like if you keep reminding her, she’s more likely to back out,” Lincoln muses, and Lexa wonders if he is only half kidding.

Octavia pins him with a look. “Never.”

It’s a charged moment just for them, despite the fact that Clarke and Lexa are caught in its crosshairs, Lincoln grinning as he catches Octavia’s crooked smirk.

“I really should go,” Lexa reiterates quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Her day will start early the following morning with a delivery just south of Boston, and traffic will be nauseating through Sumner Tunnel. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“Seriously, get her out of here,” Octavia interjects. “She overworks and stays late out of guilt and loyalty, and it’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Keep insisting, and I’m gonna say yes,” Clarke shoots back, almost threatening if not for her smile.

“Good. Then you can stop badgering me about fucking tea lights.” Octavia flicks the side of Clarke’s head and smacks her ass as she passes by to clear more tables, and somehow Clarke is charmed by the violent affection.

“I’ll stay and keep her company,” Lincoln offers. “You guys should take off. Enjoy the early night.” He then leans in closely to them both, his head bent in conspiracy. “And, I really do like those paper lanterns that you guys string up on the deck sometimes.”

The way Clarke’s entire countenance glows, eyes sparkling in victorious mischief, has Lexa’s smile growing in kind.

“I. Love you. You wonderful, wonderful human.” Clarke places her hands affectionately on either side of Lincoln’s face and looks as if she might actually plant a kiss between his eyebrows. “I will not let you down or betray your confidence.” Her tone is gravely solemn as if they are alluding to something far more serious than wedding decor.

“Give me a second to gather my things from the office?” she then says to Lexa, her voice shifting to that delicate timbre that turns Lexa’s beating heart to a useless puddle.

She tells her, “Take all the time you need.”

“I’ll be quick.” Clarke reaches for her fingers, giving them a quick squeeze, and disappears into the back hallway.

“Did I mention we did very well, ending up with these two?”

Lexa looks over to catch Lincoln’s giant grin and feels her own lips stretching into a smile. “I’m proud of us.”

Lincoln very nearly giggles. “Me too.”

A beat or two of amicable silence passes between them, in which time Octavia has returned behind the bar to tend to her few, straggling guests.

“What are the chances Clarke already has a shitload of decorations she’s been stockpiling for this party?” Lincoln contemplates aloud.

Lexa’s response comes without hesitation.

“Oh yeah, without question.”

:::

[recentanimenews]

J-Novel Club Announces Five New Titles During Livestream

Publisher J-Novel Club announced the acquisition of five new titles during an industry livestream today, including four light novels and one manga adaptation. Chapters of all of the titles will be available to check out today via J-Novel Club's website and app. 

  Here's an overview of the latest to join the library:

    Goodbye Otherworld, See You Tomorrow

Author: Kazamidori

Illustrator: Nimoshi

    Synopsis:

The world he woke up in is long dead, dusted in ashen powder, and yet Keisuke still sees splashes of color as he travels through it. For the longest time, he’s wandered alone across the deserted landscape, clinging to the hope that something—or someone—might be out there in the emptiness. When he finally stumbles across that someone, even more threads of color start to seep into the ashen world around them.

  This time, when Keisuke sets off down the road, someone sits beside him in the passenger seat. The first acquaintance he’s ever made here, his first companion in this barren world. They’re both traveling in search of something, and after searching alone for so long, maybe they’ll have better luck working together? Their only lead is a witch who can answer any question—for a price. What will the two ask her, and what will she be able to tell them? More importantly, what will it cost them, and will they be willing to pay the price?

  Private Tutor to the Duke's Daughter

Author: Riku Nanano

Illustrator: cura

    Synopsis:

After failing the final exam for his dream job at the royal court, promising young sorcerer Allen wants nothing more than to retreat to a simple life in the countryside. Unfortunately for him, he can’t even afford the train fare! His only solution is to get a job, but his one lead is anything but modest—Duke Howard, one of the kingdom’s most powerful nobles, needs a private tutor for his daughter Tina.

  Despite her academic brilliance, Tina is incapable of casting even a single spell. To make matters worse, entrance exams for the prestigious Royal Academy are fast approaching, and magical aptitude is mandatory! Can Allen use his unique brand of spellcasting to help Tina overcome her magical impairment, a mystery that not even the kingdom’s finest sorcerers have been able to solve? And does her father, the duke, even want him to?

  Endo and Kobayashi Live! The Latest on Tsundere Villainess Lieselotte

Author: Suzu Enoshima

Illustrator: Eihi

    Synopsis:

One day, Crown Prince Sieg hears the Voices of the Gods out of the blue. Apparently, his fiancée Lieselotte is a “tsun de rais” villainess destined to meet her demise...and her sharp tongue is just a way of covering up her embarrassment. The prince can hardly contain himself after discovering Lieselotte's adorable hidden side. Little does he know, the heavenly beings that bestowed this knowledge unto him are actually high schoolers! 

  Can he use their divine prophecy (let’s play commentary) to save his betrothed and avoid a Bad End?!

  Full Clearing Another World under a Goddess with Zero Believers

Author: Isle Osaki

Illustrator: Tam-U

    Synopsis:

Makoto Takatsuki is a normal high school student and a hardcore RPG player. However, “normal” goes out the window when his whole class is involved in a bus crash and whisked away to another world! Powerful gods rule this strange new land of magic and monsters, and every newcomer is blessed with strong stats and unique skills. Well, not quite. Makoto’s stats turn out to be pathetic, and his skills are super weak compared to his classmates’...he’s even stuck as an apprentice mage. Worse still, he’s given only ten years to live!

  Luckily, Makoto soon meets a minor goddess named Noah, who appears in Makoto’s dreams and asks him to become her first believer. With the help of Noah's blessings and a divine weapon, Makoto seeks to become strong enough to rescue his goddess from the dungeon where she’s been trapped. By training hard and using his weak skills in unorthodox ways, Makoto proves that, even when playing on hardcore difficulty, an RPG player always makes it to the end!

  J-Novel Club also licensed the manga adaptation of the above series, which comes from Hakuto Shiroi. That one also launches today with the first chapter of volume 1. 

    Source: Press release

    -------

Joseph Luster is the Games and Web editor at Otaku USA Magazine. You can read his comics at subhumanzoids. Follow him on Twitter @Moldilox.

By: Joseph Luster

[strongerwiththepack]

Curiosity

For FabFiveFeb2021 (John).

Thank-you so much to everyone who’s left me such nice comments on my little prompt fics this past week. It gave me the motivation to finally finish this FabFiveFeb fic (on the 1st of March 🤦‍♀️).

A fluffy John and Alan fic. Set 3 years before TAG. Using the prompt ‘A curiosity’. Thank-you @gumnut-logic for organising the challenge!

“Scott come on, I’m too busy this week.”

“You’re busy every week John” Scott rolled his eyes on the hologram, making John pout pathetically. “Stop putting this off. Besides, you’d be able to test out the coding on your sample collector things while you’re there.”

John narrowed his eyes, he did need to do that, but he could do it on Earth or the moon even. There was no need to go to Mars.

“What if there’s a rescue?”

“We can handle it John, a day off isn’t going to kill you.”

John scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Scott.”

“Alan misses you, just do this for him, please John.”

John narrowed his eyes. He knew what Scott was doing. Scott knew he knew as well. Didn’t mean it wasn’t effective.

“Fine.”

So that’s where he found himself now. With Alan. On Mars.

His little brother was having the best day of his life, bouncing around pointing out the different types of soil and rocks. John smiled to himself at the enthusiasm. Alan was going to make a great astronaut someday.

The journey over had been really nice. John had fielded all of Alan’s questions about Thunderbird 3 and space travel. It reminded him of when they were kids and John would help Alan with his homework. He’d even given Alan the chance to pilot which wasn’t all that thrilling when they were already on course but his brother had seemed happy enough.

Despite his reluctance, this was nice.

“Do you think we’ll see any Aliens John?”

John laughed. The transition from describing soil types to the degree of a college PHD student to asking in all seriousness about Aliens was the perfect description of his youngest brother’s personality.

“Not likely Alan.” John chuckled.

The pout added to the humour.

“Do you think dad ever saw any Aliens while he was here?” Alan queried innocently, eyes wide as he waited for an answer.

John swallowed painfully and tried not to put a damper on Alan’s mood. “He never mentioned it if he did.”

“Can we go see dad’s plaque?”

John had been before, with their dad. The footprint in the soil surrounded by a podium. He’d teased the man about it then, thinking it was rather cheesy. Not so much now.

“Unfortunately no, they’re building the new mars colonies around it so it’s closed off at the moment.” John explained. He was glad, the lone footprint would have brought up unwanted feelings this time around. “That mission is set to launch in 2061. It’ll be the first-time humans have set up permanent residence on Mars.”

“Wow” Alan admired in awe. Distraction successful. “They would need a lot of oxygen for that, or maybe one of those prototypes for oxygen conversion has been approved! And obviously they would need some sort of sustainable way to grow food…”

John let Alan trail off on his rant. The kid was going to ace his Mars paper that was for sure.

He still had to test out his sample collection drones. It was his latest project. When he had been at university it had been extremely difficult to gather consistent interplanetary data for his research. The data was out there but it was either impossible to navigate or hidden behind a paywall. He still liaised with a lot of universities and knew it was still a problem. So, he’d decided to create an open-source, easy-to-navigate database for students and researchers around the world.

He could use the data that was already available but like he said none of it was consistent so he and Brains had designed some deep-space drones that could collect all the data they needed.

They were programmed to test gravity, air quality, rock types, temperature and a host of other categories. The engineering behind these tiny drones was insane. John never could’ve done it alone, Brains truly was remarkable. His dad sure knew how to spot talent.

He placed the little drone down before activating it on his tablet.

“Hey Alan, come check this out!”

Alan bounced over excitedly as the rotor blades retracted from the drone and it rose into the air.

“Cool! Can I fly it?”

“There are no controls, it’s fully automated!” John explained as he passed the tablet to his younger brother. “The readings are already coming in, these tiny little bots can produce so much data – it’s going to revolutionise research and academia in the future.”

“Where’s it going now?”

The drone had begun to quickly move away from them before it dropped down into the earth, out of sight.

John took the tablet back. “Hmm looks like it’s found a deep crater, it’s trying to gather below surface data.”

The tablet made a shrill beeping noise. “Hmm looks like it’s found something unusual down there, we can’t get a clear reading.”

They walked over to peer over the edge of the large crater. It spanned at least five meters wide and it was too dark to see how deep.

John grinned at his little brother as he flicked on his helmet torch. “Want to take a look?”

Alan gaped at him, looking into the dark hole before his face broke into a huge grin. “Yes!”

John chuckled. “Okay, come on, let’s get the grappling gear.”

*

He and Alan dropped into the crater that was dimly lit through their suit torches. It was incredibly dusty, their torches reflected off the particles floating in the air. There was a tunnel that led further under the surface. They didn’t have enough light to see more than a few meters in front of them.

“You’re sure about the aliens, right John?” Alan questioned unsurely beside him.

“Yes Alan” John rolled his eyes as he shone his light towards the ceiling of the tunnel. “It the structural integrity I’m more worried about.”

Alan whipped his head up to check as well.

“It’s not too far in, just tread lightly and try not to make any loud noises.” John reasoned.

The drone chose that moment to zoom out of the dark tunnel at them, and Alan yelped in alarm as it almost hit his head.

John rolled his eyes facepalming his helmet as a new dust cloud erupted. “Yeah, loud noises like that.”

Alan smiled sheepishly and whispered. “Sorry.”

John cocked his head towards the tunnel. “C’mon.”

They quickly came across the source of the anomaly. There was something partially buried in the red-tinged soil.

“No way…” John gasped as they got closer.  “Do you know what that is Alan?”

“Uhhh” Alan focused his torch on it as he inched closer. “A rover?”

“It’s the NASA Curiosity rover!” John explained, brushing off some of the dust that had settled there. “It went missing in 2040 and was never recovered.”

“It looks like a bit of a relic.” Alan commented.

“Oh it is.” John said with a smile. “It was launched in 2011. It still holds the record for the longest operating rover on mars.”

“Oh cool.” Alan said airily.

John chuckled. He could tell his little brother wasn’t impressed. The rover was a dinosaur by their standards but he knew it had been revolutionary at the time.

He couldn’t wait to tell his Grandma. He still remembered her telling him the story of the Curiosity landing. How it had been broadcast live on the television. How Jeff, who’d still been a young child, had sat on her lap bouncing excitedly. The Tracy’s had always had their heart’s in space travel.

“Come on.” John prompted. “We’re gonna tow this thing out of here.”

“Do we have to?” Alan whined. “It’s massive.”

“Yep. Let’s grab the tow cables from Three.” John instructed. “NASA are going to be over the moon.”

“You can’t really ever be over the moon, John.” Alan called over his shoulder.

“I know Alan.”

*

It turned out Curiosity had fallen into the crater and lost power when it got trapped without the sun. When John and Alan pulled it from the crater, it miraculously began to charge through the solar panels again.

And that’s how, in 2057, Curiosity was returned to the world.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The Anti-Spider-Girl Agenda within Marvel

In 1998 Tom DeFalco, former EIC of Marvel, created Mayday Parker/Spider-Girl. Her debut did gangbusters and a first edition of it still fetches a lot of cash. She got a solo series in 1999 which launched an entire interconnected universe of characters, the MC2 universe. 

The universe ultimately wrapped up in 2010 but throughout that time Mayday was being regularly published in one format or another, she was even the FIRST ever Marvel character to get a digital ongoing series before it went to print. An impressive accolade to add to the fact that she still holds the record for the female Marvel solo protagonist with the longest running continuous series. That is to say no breaks or relaunches, just over 60 straight monthly issues...

... And THEN she went another 40 straight issue for good measure before finally being continued in a relaunch. 

So, given how the anniversaries of both her debut and the debut of her series/the MC2 universe have come and gone I have to ask...why has there been 0 acknowledgement from Marvel?

We’re in the middle of a 2099 celebration, and that imprint (that lasted less time and was arguably less successful) was an on and off presence between 2013-2017.

We’re going to get something acknowledging Iron Man 2020 a character who is hardly in the zeitgeist of Marvel fandom to the same extent as Spider-Girl.

Now in fairness both of those examples are reliant upon the literal names of both properties. It does make a certain amount of sense to celebrate the 2099 line in a year ending in the number 9, thus bringing us ever closer to the real life year 2099. Equally it makes sense to revive Iron Man 2020 during well...the year 2020.

But then you get to Marvel celebrating the Earth X stuff. Now for all you out there who haven’t read the Earth X stuff I want you to ask yourself a question and be very honest with yourselves. How much do you actually know about the Earth X universe just via osmosis, without having read it. I’m willing to bet it ain’t much if anything and what you do know probably amounts to:

It was Marvel’s answer to Kingdom Come

Alex Ross did art for it

MAYBE you know Norman Osborn was the President

Oh and you probably remember that really cool Venom/symbiote looking character who was a version of Spider-Girl!

Golly, it’s almost like if Marvel are going to celebrate the not-that-well-remembered Earth X line (which like 2099 also lasted for less time than the MC2 universe) then they should do SOMETHING (beyond releasing some trades) to mark EITHER of the appropriate anniversaries for Spider-Girl and/or the MC2 universe as a whole.

But no. We get some trades and also Mayday appeared in Spider-Geddon for a few issues...at no point being solely in the spotlight...

This my friends is simply the latest in a very, very, very, very, very long list of instances where Mayday/the MC2 brand is mistreated.

  And a lot of that mistreatment I think is due to Tom DeFalco’s hand in creating Mayday and the MC2 universe. Because frankly, in particular relation to the MC2 universe, DeFalco’s work has also been mistreated in recent years.

  The facts are: 

Mayday’s ongoing (Spectacular Spider-Girl volume 2) was turned into a mini in spite of solicits 

She was cancelled so Anya Corazon could get the name Spider-Girl 

The very next time she shows up her Dad is killed off, thus fundamentally wrecking the whole premise for her character 

The guy who killed her Dad proceeded to treat her as an abused babysitter 

That same guy finished things off by removing her unique name and costume 

That same guy (Slott) in the same run before and after Spider-Verse wrecked other elements from DeFalco’s ASM work AND threw shade at his origin for MJ, calling it reductive 

Slott also was hired by DeFalco and had to uncomfortably admit he’d conned the man. Which combined with everything else makes me wonder if DeFalco maybe threw some shade Slott’s way back when he was an intern. Like he looked upon him as underhanded and unworthy of his place in the company, and Slott knew that and resented DeFalco for it. And again, being EIC earns enemies and DeFalco was the EIC when Slott started 

Slott also wrecked Ben Reilly a character DeFalco did not create but had strong associations with. 

During secret wars the story focused HEAVILY upon Hope Pym, Stinger and Ant-Man at a time when coincidentally the Ant-Man movie was happening. 

During Secret Wars the same writer who wrecked her in Spider-Verse COINCIDENTALLY happened to a story about the daughter of Spider-Man who was born during the 1990s, but it was his own OC 

During Secret Wars, Mayday appeared on the cover of one of the ongoings she was set to appear in, but it was then revised to be Anya 

Mayday when she began appearing regularly in a new title was seemingly killed off early into it and didn’t appear for awhile, not getting much spotlight when she did

Mayday had to share her spotlight moments in Spider-Geddon with Anya (again), still wasn’t allowed to be called Spider-Girl again, and the story was mostly about Annie not her. 

She was going to appear in the USM cartoon but then that was totally changed to be a gender flipped Peter Parker

Eric Masterson/Thunderstrike, another well remembered DeFalco creation, has also gotten little-no attention this decade despite it being a 20th/25th anniversary of him too. One of the more notable acknowledgments of his character was turning him into a Neo-Nazi for Spider-Punk to beat up.

Spider-Girl’s VERY SUCCESSFUL digests were discontinued but conveniently other digests for other Marvel properties either continued or started up after Mayday’s were discontinued. 

The ‘complete’ Spider-Ham trade paperbacks ‘conveniently’ do not include Spider-Ham’s equivalent character for Spider-Girl, Swiney-Girl

Gee that’s an AWFUL lot of coincidence, especially when you consider fucking Spider-Ham has been getting more attention from Marvel than Mayday; and that was BEFORE Into the Spider-Verse came out.

I’m sorry, but it’s really, really, really, really, really, really obvious that there is an anti DeFalco/Spider-Girl/MC2 sentiment within Marvel.

But why you may ask?

There are a few reasons for that. The biggest one though is that Tom DeFalco is the former EIC of Marvel comics.

At the time of me writing this, Axel Alonso recently stopped being EIC of Marvel and no bad words are muttered about him. People in the industry equally have little bad to say about Joe Quesada, especially those within Marvel.

But then again...Joey Q is still working for Marvel and in a position ABOVE the EIC. He never stopped working for Marvel even when he stopped being the EIC. And Alonso, one of Quesada’s right hand yes men conveniently took over for him and do you know he didn’t run the company all THAT differently to his former boss. Funny that right?

It’s almost as funny as how other former EICs of Marvel absolutely don’t have the same treatment. Jim Shooter is routinely BLASTED by countless fans and creators, especially the ones who worked under him, even though he oversaw arguably the height of Marvel comics’ creative history. Bob Harrass and his decisions are often talked about less than flatteringly. Tom DeFalco meanwhile had a whole disparaging phrase named after him.

Yes. That is is a real life Marvel letter page from the mid-2000s literally using the term ‘DeFalco’s Folly’ in reference to a former Marvel EIC and outright BLAMING HIM for their bankruptcy in the 1990s.*

When you are the EIC you make enemies. It’s rare that the boss of any business isn’t resented on some level by their employees. And your words take on much more meaning that what you simply say, being subject to misinterpretation.**

But now imagine you are the boss of a bunch of creative nerds (for most creators of superheros are nerds). Creative people A LOT of the time tend to be fairly sensitive as is, it’s likely critical to their craft. Nerds historically have tended to be sensitive (that’s neither a good nor bad thing). If you are the boss of those people, hoo boy will you ever make enemies. Tom DeFalco in fact once told a fellow editor that an innocuous comment about how an artist under said editor’s employ drew a character was being taken by the artist as an insult to their whole career.

NOW imagine all that and also under your tenure the company goes bankrupt and a lot of people lose their jobs?

Enemies. Enemies galore. 

Even if it wasn’t necessarily your fault, you are the most visible person in authority so you get the blame. If the internet wasn’t that much of a thing do you really think that Ike Perlmutter would be the guy who got the blame for deep sixing the X-Men and F4 in the 2010s? Hell no, it’d have been Axel Alonso and/or Tom Brevoort.

So yeah, Mayday was DeFalco’s baby and the MC2 universe more than anything was the logical extrapolation from the Marvel universe as it existed under HIS tenure as EIC. It’s very much seen as representative of DeFalco himself. Thus if people have an issue with DeFalco, they’re not going to do all that much positive as far as his stuff is concerned, in particular if it gives him anything like royalties.

But on top of all of that I think Spider-Girl and the MC2 universe simply conceptually lean against Marvel’s ‘party line.

I didn’t notice this, but it was pointed out to me by an acquaintance that the MC2 universe is VERY similar to DC’s Earth 2 concept, wherein the classic heroes are older and/or retired with their immediate descendants picking up their mantles. Marvel and DC have this petty and asinine pissing contest between them, with many within Marvel even outright hating the fact that they have numbered universes like DC. It’s likely (definitely) the reason Earth 616 was rebranded as ‘Earth Prime’. This of course won’t stop them ripping off DC if they think it’ll make bank

The MC2 universe was a universe of OPTIMISM. In particular in the 2000s, and this attitude has definitely lingered, there is this emphasis upon cynicism and at best Pyrrhic victories within Marvel. Partially this is due to a misinterpretation of what ‘realism’ means, but partially this is due to  misguided belief that controversy sells and pissing the fans off makes bank. 

The MC2 universe is very old school. It’s deliberately designed to be nostalgic and feel Silver Age in it’s sensibilities. this is why the violence is not all that gory, the sexual references are at best reserved and tasteful and there’s that optimism I talked about. not to mention it kicks back hard against the decompression/writing for the trade storytelling model Marvel typically employs and has typically employed for almost 20 years now. Whether it’s simply because the universe doesn’t conform, or because Marvel views anything ‘retro’ as bad because it isn’t ‘modern’ (with no inspection of whether the modern trends are a GOOD thing) the end result is that the MC2′s sensibilities are not in line with how Marvel WANTS their comics produced.

Then you have Mayday herself. Mayday is a living symbol of both the Clone Saga and the Spider Marriage. Whilst Marvel are NOW willing to more openly reference the Clone Saga, few people i any kind of positions of power look upon it (or even aspects of it) with anything but disdain and embarrassment. Dan Slott for instance openly hated it. As for the Spider Marriage...I mean do I even need to explain that one?

I’m sure a frustrating fact for Marvel during Spider-Girl’s publication, and something likely passed down to Axel Alonso when he was handpicked by Quesada, was that the book refused to die. Spider-Girl was scheduled for cancellation multiple times and defied the odds multiple times. Marvel 90% of the time won’t kill a book if it’s making a profit (especially in a day and age when they were still feeling the fallout from bankruptcy) so they kept Spider-Girl around, but because it was so against the party line I’m VERY sure they’d have LIKED to have had the justification for killing the title. That’s likely why they shuffled her onto a digital platform in 2009. Amazing Spider-Girl did poorly enough to justify cancelling it but not so poorly that they couldn’t still make money from it. Another relaunch would’ve boosted sales for the series, but making it a digital series at a time when hardly anyone read digitially (let alone PAID for it), now that’s a shrewd manoeuvre. You make SOME money from it, you pay lip service to keeping it alive and appeasing very upset Spider-Marriage fans, but you’ve essentially guaranteed it’s failure long term.

Part of that annoying success was those incredibly successful digests that were possibly indoctrinating a lot of young impressionable readers on a character/brand Marvel wanted to bury and aspects of their flagship character (read: a married older Peter Parker) that they wanted to bury. Hence Spider-Girl digests disappeared but conveniently there were still digests for Ultimate Spider-Man sold featuring a young, buffoonish, Avengers worshipping Peter Parker.

Oh...and she also had the incredibly brand sexy name ‘Spider-Girl’ that Joe Quesada wanted for his own precious pet OC character, Anya Corazon. In fact Mayday was going to be rebranded as Spider Woman in Spider-Girl #75, specifically so that Anya Corazon could be given the name Spider-Girl. Years later Mayday was cancelled specifically for that purpose.

tl:dr There is a VERY OBVIOUS anti Tom DeFalco/Spider-Girl/MC2 agenda within Marvel.

My hope is that it’s rooted out, hopefully as a result of the 20 year nostalgia factor kicking in sooner of later (her series was most prevalent in the 2000s) and more female creators coming into the industry.

*Which is very much unfair. There is rarely one singular decision that results in bankruptcy. So whilst DeFalco making a single purchase might’ve been a contribution (emphasis on ‘might’) the idea that it was THE ultimate cause of Marvel’s problems is ridiculous.

Marvel were heading for the shitter the moment Ron Perleman purchased it in the 1980s. They were the victims of a ‘pump and dump’ scheme wherein sleazy yet clever financial people showed up, created a bubble to make a load of money, then moved on to the next thing when the bubble burst. To my understanding a similar thing occurred with baseball cards.

** In fact DeFalco’s friend, Ron Frenz, has spoken about how he was witness to DeFalco saying one thing and the people listening to him hearing and acting upon it in a totally different way than was intended.

The same happened to Stan Lee when he made an aside about Iron Man’s lack of a nose, which resulted in his employees believing Stan wanted them to give Iron Man a nose.

P.S. You know in the 1990s when all the 2099 books got cancelled sans Spider-Man 2099, they never got a second bite of the apple.

But between the late 90s and 2000s the MC2 universe was seemed successful enough that around 2006-2007 both Spider-Girl AND the wider MC2 universe were given second volumes, even the ones that only lasted like 6 issues.

Since then there’s been at least 3 attempts to revive the 2099 universe, we’re living through the latest one. 

And yet Mayday doesn’t seem to even be worthy of a spotlight issue in the current Spider-Verse series. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XLII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This is a great book and I hope I did it justice. Imma start adding little extras that I call the HarryxMel soundtrack which are songs that I used as inspiration to write the fic. This first song’s the one who gave book three its title on Ao3 (I post this thing there as well) -Danny

Words: 1,749

Series’ Masterlist

Book I // Book II // Next Chapter

Listen to: Meteor Showers -Andy Kong

Chapter One: A Quiet Summer.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" She turned her head to see the boy, laying beside her.

"I don't know," He looked at her as well, eyebrows up in surprise.

"I want to be an explorer," The girl smiled, "I could send postcards to my mother and uncles, learn about the wizards around the world, the magical creatures..."

"Sounds brilliant," His eyes wandered to the ceiling. He smiled, "make sure to send postcards to me as well."

"Oh," Mel blushed, "I thought- I thought you'd like to go with me?"

"Oh," Harry turned back to her, taken by surprise, "I-"

"It's alright," She sat up, hiding her face so he couldn't see her embarrassment, "forget what I said, it was silly-"

"No-" Harry straightened up in the bed as well, shifting so now his back was against the wall, "W-We could take Hedwig- it'd be easier to send letters and all..."

She stayed silent long enough to make sure he wasn't joking.

"I...I could take my camera?" Mel offered timidly, "I hope I know how to use it by then, cause these few weeks have been a total disaster..."

"You've had it for two weeks only, you'll learn," the boy said, "you could ask Colin once we're back at school about the potion to make them move"

"I could pay for his services with a whole stack of pictures I took of you during my birthday, you looked lovely with all that cake on your face-"

"Shut up," He laughed.

"Are you two doing your homework?" Her mother asked loudly from downstairs.

Mel and Harry shared a look.

"Almost done!" Mel yelled back, holding her laughter.

She passed him a set of books and he laid them on the bed. Mel pulled out parchment, ink and two quills from her drawer, ready to work.

"My parents had the same plans– about traveling," She continued while he searched for the chapter they were supposed to be reading, "they'd thousands of plans, all set after the war -ending the war was first- their friends were supposed to join them too... friends from school, I think, but..." She shrugged.

"Has Emily ever talked to you about them?" Harry asked in curiosity, "About her friends? She must've been the same age as my parents"

"Never said much," Mel sighed, "I didn't want to insist, she barely talks about my dad so... I don't mean to sound ungrateful-"

"You're not," He assured her.

"Thanks," She smiled lightly, "I just... we could've had all that, Glasses. The adventures, the big families... I try  not to think about it a lot, but sometimes is hard."

"What happened to them?" Harry inquired, "Did they..?"

"She's never told me. I think they died, but even if they didn't it, it's almost like they don't exist anymore. Either way, my uncle still lives and we love him dearly."

Harry nodded, though he seemed worried about something. Thirty minutes passed without them talking before he dared to speak again.

"Do you think that'll happen to us? What happen to your mum and her friends..."

"That we'll have to pretend we're dead?" Mel grinned, "Sounds rather unlikely..."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No," She answered with certainty, "We're different, you and I. So are Ron and Hermione- I believe we'll be fine, although it could feel a bit difficult at some point when we grow up."

"You're odd, Mellow"

"Oh, get out of here," She grinned, throwing a pillow at his face.

The schoolwork on the bed was long forgotten as Harry and Mel started a pillow fight. Mel knocked the ink on accident just as her mother entered the room to check on them and went mad, reminding them they should be doing homework.

Summer was going by fast, she'd tons of interesting books to study for her extra lessons with Dumbledore -everyone was happy for her, even her mum- and the letters she was receiving from her friends were always long and constant, it was the busiest summer she'd ever had.

Between her study sessions and the letters, she had a new hobby: Her mother had given her a camera for her thirteenth birthday, it was easy to use but she was having trouble with the lens and lighting, pictures kept coming out wrong, no matter how much effort she'd put into them. She had a shoebox with a bunch of pictures of her mother and Harry from that summer, they were her most valuable possession.

Talking about the devil, Harry technically wasn't allowed to be in Mel's house. He'd been punished after Ron tried to call to his house and Mr. Dursley answered only to go deaf after Ron screamed through it. But technically, as long as they didn't go anywhere near his room, it was as if he hadn't left the house. How he'd managed to climb out of his window without getting injured, it was a mystery. How he was going to climb back, only he knew. It was fun to see his rebellious side, though.

It was also easier to ignore her feelings when he wasn't being all heroic and solemn. Not like he tried to be like that all the time, but there was something about being at school solving mysteries and being famous that just made him look like a knight in shining armor (she wasn't going to admit that to Hermione.) Back home he was just Harry, the small boy that lived next door since they were babies. Well, not so small nowadays,  Harry had caught up with her during late June and now they were the same height. That didn't amuse her.

They were slowly growing up, and getting older also meant accepting changes- which meant she had very little time before having to come into terms with the fact that her feelings were evolving despite all her attempts.

She was still a kid, though. So it was safe to say she could keep pretending for at least two more years.

'...nothing's changed, not really. We had a strange year and all- but we did fine I think.

Harry's fine- I'm fine, we're still friends. I must admit, I was afraid we'd stop being friends once in school, it didn't happen. I'm glad, he's still my best friend...'

Her hand lingered above the paper, thinking of her next words.

'I do have more friends now, so don't worry! It's just that Harry... he's different, you know, he's been my friend the longest... I think I like him. I mean, of course, I like him. I mean- I have feelings-'

She huffed, tearing the paper and throwing it into the bin.

Every time. Every. Single. Time.

Why? It was embarrassing! Why did she keep trying to tell her uncle about her feelings for Harry?

He wouldn't know how to help her, he was an adult! Worse yet, he was a man. He didn't know what to do when a girl has her first crush.

Her alarm clock went off at that moment, startling her.

Harry's birthday!

She jumped out of the bed and rushed over to the window, she'd planned to throw rocks at it to wake him up and be the first to wish him a happy birthday when she found him already standing there.

She opened her window with a swift movement and leaned on the frame, smiling.

"What're you doing?" They asked at the same time. She laughed.

"I was finishing my essay on the witch-burning in the fourteenth century-" He started to explain, but stopped at the sound of her laughter.

"You sound so scholar when you say the whole title," She grinned. "You shouldn't do your homework so late at night, might worsen your eyes..."

"I would've finished yesterday if you hadn't suggested to try and bake cookies while Emily was away," Harry said pointedly. "Why're you up?"

"I was finishing a letter for my uncle," She explained, "and waiting till midnight."

"Why?"

"You know why," Mel smiled.

The girl disappeared for a brief second so she could look for the present. When she found it, she approached the window holding the box.

"Ready to catch?" She whispered, leaning further on the edge.

"Is it heavy?" Harry had half his body out of the window, preparing himself for the challenge.

"Not much. One, two... three!"

She launched the package and Harry caught it safely in his arms, hugging it tightly against his chest as he got back in.

"Should I open it?"

"Please do," She encouraged him.

Harry ripped the box open and let out a laugh, looking at her.

"You're improving," He pulled out a wool emerald green hat, "it's neater than the first..."

"I also made a scarf like last time- I practiced something different there," She said eagerly.

Harry rummaged through the box and took out the scarf. He put it around his neck and then put on the hat, a childish smile on his face.

"How do I look?"

"Like it's winter," She giggled, "Happy birthday, Glasses."

"Happy birthday," He beamed, then realized what he'd said and added, "I-I mean, thanks"

She had to muffle her laughter so her mum wouldn't wake up.

"Distracted as always... turn the scarf around, you didn't see the details!"

Harry took off the scarf and examined it, it was magically fixed so the little ornamentation -little lions that Mel had done on her own- would change its colors. She didn't know exactly what did it had to happen for the lions to change- if it was depending on his mood or the weather- she'd just used the magic wool thinking it'd be clever.

"Wow..." Harry breathed, "you're working hard to outdo my presents, huh?"

"You're welcome," She replied simply, closing her window and going back to bed.

She squirmed in the mattress and covered her face with the pillow to hide the embarrassing noises she was making. Harry had loved her present, he even said she was improving.

She fell asleep with the biggest of smiles.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018​ @vampiregirl1797​ @siriuslysirius1107​ @celestialhayi​ @mikariell95​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @steve-thotgers​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @reverse-hxlland​ @tomshollandz​ @omiwashere​ 

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🐾Night Terrors & New Beginnings - Part 8 (Unravel)🐾

Inko Midoriya came home soon after Ochako had fed Dakota to find the trio casually talking an eating snacks in the living room, lounging on the sofas and relaxing. She felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of her son looking so calm and loved watching how warmly he conversed with his friends. She offered to have them stay for dinner but as they had school the next morning, they decided to head home and get some sleep. Once they left, Izuku and his mother ate at the dinner table in comfortable silence, Izuku’s relaxing mood continuing even after his friends had gone. Inko sighed and her son looked up, his eyes shining with color and his face brightened with emotion for the first time in several days.

“What’s wrong, mom?”

“Oh, nothing is wrong sweetie, nothing at all. I am just feeling relaxed right now.”

“That’s good to hear, you sound less tired than usual.”

“As do you.”

“How was your trip into town today? Find any veterinarians who would be willing to drive out here?” Izuku asked, stabbing a piece of pasta with his fork and bringing it to his lips.

Inko sighed with a little more defeat this time. “Unfortunately, Izuku, I only found two vet places that were even remotely close to this city and the first one said that our address was too far for one of their staff to drive all the way out to, and the other said that they could send out a guy but that they were busy for the next few weeks so I wouldn’t be able to book anything for at least a month!”

“Oh no, that doesn’t help us at all…” Some of the grey exhaustion seemed to come back into Izuku’s features and Inko immediately rushed to change the subject, her mind panicking at the dark shadow that seemed to be trying to hard to take over her normally genuinely happy son.

“Oh, but on the bright side, I managed to get ahold of Haruka again and she is willing to come by our house to take a look at the mark on your hand again! She said that it may have something to do with that evil dragon’s quirk, so she is coming around tomorrow afternoon to check it out!”

Izuku brightened a little at that. He had come to learn how to live with the mark but he was really tired of feeling all of these confusing emotions and the almost non-stop flow of pain that seemed to always be nipping at his nerves, his only reprieve was the medication from Haruka. The pair finished dinner as the tensions in the room settled a little bit more and then the two got up and brought their dishes to the sink.

“Alright, why don’t you go hang out for a while and start getting ready for bed, I can do these dishes,” Inko said, picking up a plate and the sink brush.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course!”

“Alright…”

Izuku walked to the fridge and found some more ground beef in one of the drawers to take to Dakota. Balancing the meat on a new plate from the cabinet, Izuku made his way to his room to feed the beast. Izuku reached his bedroom door and decided not to overthink it too much and so he did not pause and take a deep breath or peer nervously through the cracked door like he usually did. Still avoiding being loud or obnoxious, Izuku pushed his bedroom door open with confidence and shut it behind him until he heard it click. Usually, he would opt to keep the door cracked open slightly so as to have an escape route but today, he decided to take Ochako’s advice. Treat Dakota as if she were a person going through a rough time with nobody to believe in. He was still one hundred percent sure that she could kill him in under two seconds and he knew she would if she was threatened so he didn’t want to appear overconfident but he was also tired of dancing around her as if she were toxic.

Dakota lifted her head from where it had been resting on her paws and looked at him up and down, sniffing once. She could feel that he was trying to be as brave and confident as possible so she did not growl, she just watched him. Izuku now didn’t know what else to do, he could feel his shield of false confidence start to waver as he fought with his brain for the next step. That was when his thoughts wandered back to the scene from earlier that day when Ochako had given Dakota her meal.

“Talk to her…” Izuku whispered to himself. Dakota leaned forward just barely, to the point where Izuku almost missed it but he caught it out of the corner of his eye. That was when Ochako’s words rang true. She was just lonely, all she wants is a companion, someone who will listen and understand. He had understood Ochako back when she had originally told him this but now he could feel it, just in the way she had leaned forward ever so slightly to catch what he was saying, whether she understood his language or not, she was desperate to have him speak to her. He cleared his throat a little and swallowed his tingling nerves.

“H-Hello, Dakota. How are you d-doing this e-evening?” Izuku mentally slapped himself as he stuttered. He needed to keep his voice steady. He knew that he couldn’t let his guard down completely and he knew that he shouldn’t lose his fear of her completely as he still needed to respect the fact that she was one of the most dangerous animals on the planet. But he did know that he needed to stop treating her like a disgusting monster.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stutter. To be honest, I’ve never spoken to a dragon before and I’m a little nervous,” Izuku felt more confidence seep into his body little by little. Being honest, even with the daughter of death, was kind of refreshing and gave him a starting place to build trust between them. “Are you feeling any better? We are trying to find the right person to heal you because as you know, veterinary science isn’t a real skill of mine.”

Dakota thumped her tail twice and swiped her pink tongue over her lips a little. Izuku took this as a good thing and took a tentative step forward, holding the plate of meat out in front of him.

“Is it alright if I come closer to you? I know you want your food and I want to give it to you but I also want to avoid the fear of losing my arm whenever I get near you.”

Dakota tilted her head slightly, her eyes glittering. Izuku did not expect an answer but just as she had done in that strange vision Izuku had had, she dipped her head ever so slightly with closed eyes. After a few seconds, she raised her head once more and opened her eyes to peer at him curiously. Izuku took another deep breath, this was good, really good. This was the longest amount of time in which she had not growled or bared her teeth at him. She was showing real positive emotion for the first time since he had carried her half-dead into his home.

“Thank you,” Izuku whispered before taking a few more slow steps until he was right in front of her. Fear still electrified his nerves but he was able to overpower that feeling with that of pride and curiosity. Kneeling down slowly, he reached an arm out and placed the plate of food in front of her with a nervous smile. Dakota watched him for a moment before leaning forward and gently scooping some of the meat into her mouth. Izuku released a soft sigh of relief that she had not launched for her food like she normally did. Baby steps, just more baby steps.

“You are a good dragon, Dakota,” Izuku whispered and Dakota paused her eating to look right into his eyes. “I am sorry, for everything. I don’t know anything about your past but I do know that no matter what you’ve done, no matter who you’ve harmed or killed if you have done so, you don’t deserve the abuse you have undergone. I am so sorry.”

Izuku lifted his hand up, he could feel his fingers trembling but he couldn’t stop them, his heart was trying to burst through his chest and his mind was trying as hard as it could to convince him to move his hand out of danger but he forced his muscles to move his arm forward. While Ochako had reached for Dakota’s shoulder, Izuku threw caution to the wind and aimed for her head. His throat was dry and his body was breaking out in a cold sweat but he did not try to hide it. He was not going to hide from her, he was not going to deceive her. Izuku closed his eyes and turned his head away, his whole body shaking with fear and anticipation.

Dakota hesitated, her eyes roving over his held out palm, her brain mulling over her decision choices. She could almost feel the tension dripping from his body, but she knew that he was trying as hard as he possibly could to make an effort. She almost turned away, he was a human after all and she had learned very early on that all humans are evil. But then she remembered his soft apology, the genuine guilt, and sadness that had flowed throughout his entire being. She also remembered his fear of her, his wariness of her in a way that mirrored her own fears. Maybe not all people were that bad. Swallowing the last of her doubts, she leaned forward, her meat forgotten, and placed her head on the outstretched palm in front of her that couldn’t quite reach her on its own.

Izuku sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, his head turning to peer at Dakota hesitantly. Her eyes were closed and her ears were folded back onto her head but he could immediately tell that it was in a relaxed way rather than the way she would pin her ears when she was angry. He released the breath he had sucked in so violently and began to twitch his fingers gently. His hand tingled and his palm began to glow faintly as she opened her eyes in slight surprise at the feeling of his gentle fingers carving little pathways in her fur. Izuku made eye contact with her as he began to pet her more properly, remaining wary of her just in case he overstepped any boundaries but grew a little more confident with each passing second as she relaxed into his actions. Dakota closed her eyes again and Izuku was shocked to the core to see a tear slide down her face. It was barely visible and he almost missed it but he saw it and he felt his  heart constrict with sadness for the poor creature.

“Good girl, Dakota. You are safe now.”

__________________________________________

Izuku woke up the next morning feeling a lot better, actually having slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat. His alarm clock went off early but when he got out of bed to get ready for school he didn’t feel as groggy and depressed as he had in the past few days. Dakota was even in a better mood. She still watched him warily constantly but she actually wagged her tail twice when he said goodbye to her for the day. Ochako and Iida immediately felt a difference in his behavior and they were both thrilled when he told them quietly about the progression he had managed to move through with the aggressive dog in his room. He made it through the day feeling focused and refreshed. He made it through hero training feeling so energized that he was able to fight his fellow classmates for almost an hour before he wore himself out in their combat training sessions for the day. He finally ended home with Ochako and Iida, talking to them for the entire train ride.

Inko also immediately noticed her son’s changed behavior and beamed when he suggested they play a board game in the living room before Haruka was scheduled to show up. They played together on the floor of their living room for a while before Izuku excused himself to go check on Dakota’s wounds. He walked to his bedroom and opened his door, holding a roll of gauze, cotton balls, and water. For the first time since Dakota had arrived, when Izuku pushed open the door, Dakota wagged her tail, thumping it on the floor three times rather than the usual two. Izuku felt his heart flutter a little at the sight and even though he knew he still had to be careful, he felt more comfortable around her.

“Hey girl, how are you doing today? I promise I won’t hurt you, but if you allow me, I’d like to take a look at your injuries, alright?”

Dakota lowered her head and lost the warm spark in her eyes, her ears rotating around to flatten across her head, but she thumped her tail once. Izuku inhaled a little and made his way over to her, holding the medical materials out so that she could see all of them clearly. He finally kneeled down beside her and placed the supplies beside him, his eyes never straying from hers as he reached a tentative hand over to pet her head once. Ever since he had broken the glacier that had been blocking her personality, their relationship had been less icy. He was aware that he still had to pay mind to the fact that she was still a dangerous dragon, but her refreshed attitude gave him hope. He kept his eyes open this time and managed to keep his hand at least a little more steady than the first time he had touched her. He hadn’t even gotten very close to her when she leaned forward, almost eagerly, and placed her forehead against his palm so that the markings on their flesh lined up. The marking on her head began to glow first, and then his palm lit up warmly.

Her desperation to be loved made Izuku’s heart twinge in sadness and he wished he could just pull her into a hug and hold her forever, but he knew that her wounds would not heal themselves, and so after waiting for a few more seconds, Izuku smiled and pulled his hand away softly. Dakota looked up into his eyes and wagged her tail four times. Izuku’s heart burst with happiness at each thump of her soft tail and he was sure he felt a distant feeling of relief as if he were feeling it from outside of his own body. His eyes drifted out of focus for a moment, and he suddenly felt that relieving feeling flow through his entire body, calming him. This sensation only lasted for a moment, and when he shook his head and blinked a few times to clear the strange foggy feeling from his head, he glanced at Dakota to see her eyes closed and her mouth hanging slightly open. Izuku watched her for a little longer before shaking his head once more and moving to work on her front leg.

Dakota opened her eyes and returned to more of a cold demeanor as he neared her injuries, but she remained stiffly silent and still, closing her eyes and ignoring him. Izuku, on the other hand, ignored all other thoughts and distractions and focused whole-heartedly on healing the dog, his hands moving efficiently but gently over her injured leg and side. He wanted to help heal her wings, as he knew that they had been torn to pieces by the strange men who had cornered them in that forest clearing, but he knew that even if she could change back, she wouldn’t let him anywhere near her wings. He brewed over the subject, his mind wandering over to her damaged wings, the thoughts burying fear deep within him. Was it healthy for her to keep them hidden for so long when they were as injured as they were? Would she ever be able to fly again? That question shot a spear of sadness through him so suddenly that his hands froze and he gasped softly. Dakota opened her eyes and looked over at Izuku. Izuku clenched a hand into his shirt over his heart and made eye contact with the black dog. Finally, he managed to slow his breathing and he leaned forward to continue wrapping her broken leg with two sticks and the bandages. His hands moved swiftly over her wounds, the soft bandage curling over the leg like fresh snow falling on the sidewalk. He was so focused that when Dakota very suddenly and aggressively snarled at him, he audibly yelped and leaped away from her, just having pinned the bandage into place. For the second time in less than a minute, his breathing and heart rate were through the roof and his confusion had spiked. That is until he scrambled back into something solid behind him. Izuku looked up slowly and rolled away from the solid thing behind him, suddenly realizing that the thing he had hit was Haruka’s legs. He realized that he had been so busy with Dakota that she had walked in and he hadn’t even heard her. That explained Dakota’s sudden aggression.

“Oh! Hello, Haruka! I didn’t see you there! What can I help you with?”

“Well, I am here to check up on the mark on your hand. Your mother told me, the medication hasn’t caused any kind of fading, correct?”

“Oh yeah, right! I am sorry, I was busy with-”

“Oh my…” Haruka sighed softly, her eyes widening a little as she peered behind Izuku at the large black dog on the floor beside Izuku’s bed. Haruka took one step forward and Dakota let out a vicious snarl that caused Izuku to blanch a little.

“Sorry, she is a little aggressive as you can see, it is probably in the best interest of both of you to stay away from her.”

Haruka did not answer, she just kept staring at the dog, who had somehow managed to force herself to move so that she was cowering in the back corner of the bedroom, her back pressed flat against the wall and her teeth bared.

Haruka took a tiny step forward and Dakota snarled again, the throaty sounds bouncing around the room wildly. That was when Izuku felt it. It was the strangest sensation, a feeling of some of the worst fear he had ever felt. It jolted down his body and electrified his limbs to the point where he actually jerked a little in place. A split second after he felt this blinding fear, he felt as if he was being thrown through a tunnel in time, as his vision changed from that of his bedroom to the clearing where he had met Dakota. He saw Haruka and Dakota along with a woman he did not know and a huge white dragon covered in bones. The images flashed through his mind, where he saw Dakota attack the bone dragon, he saw Haruka jerk her head as she activated her quirk, breaking Dakota’s leg. He saw the proud Night Fury fall, her eyes wide with fear as the other woman touched Dakota’s flank and used her quirk. He saw her change into a dog. He saw her gallop off into the woods with an arrow flying after her. He saw the arrow strike home before she ran off through the brush. He saw himself, kneeling down on the road to pick up the fallen black dog.

Suddenly, his eyes readjusted and he was once again able to see his bedroom. He blinked and turned his head to look at Haruka, who was not even looking at him and had not moved from her place before his vision. That was when he realized that the vision he had just witnessed had lasted for less than ten seconds and that nothing had changed. Nothing except for Dakota, who kept glancing at him from her corner of the room and the fact that he now knew. His heart hammered in his chest and his mind scrambled for a plan. He had no idea if she was a villain, or if he was just misreading the vision he had seen, or if the vision had been a skewed perspective in some way. He glanced between the dog and Haruka just as she took another step closer, a larger step this time. Dakota’s growl faltered a bit as a fearful whimper slipped past her jaws and Izuku made up his mind.

Haruka took another step towards the dog and Izuku set his plan into motion, ignoring all of his instincts to turn the other way and let the dragon live the consequences of her actions. He knew that she was dangerous. He knew that she was a killer. He knew she probably didn’t deserve saving, but Izuku knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of ridicule. The sight of Haruka advancing on Dakota as she cowered helplessly against the wall just made him think about all of those times when he was like Dakota and Bakugo was like Haruka. Izuku had always been so scared during those times, his mind going through all of the possible things that Bakugo could do to him with his cool quirk and better strength. The only difference in this situation was that when it was Bakugo who was bullying Izuku, Izuku never feared for his life. Izuku knew now that this interaction could result in the decision for life or death… for either one of them.

Haruka was now close enough to try to lean down to touch Dakota, the poor dog leaning as far back against the wall as possible, her teeth bared only half-heartedly as the panic set into her eyes. Haruka leaned down ever so slightly, just to have her view obscured by two strong legs. Haruka blinked a few times and looked up to see Izuku, facing her with his legs positioned in a half-lunge while his fists were raised in a loose fighting stance. Haruka stood all the way up and Izuku moved one leg back so that it could be lifted over Dakota’s back so that he was standing completely above her. Dakota blinked a few times in shock, her mouth was even hanging open slightly. After a second, the shock faded and Izuku felt an intense mixed feeling of relief and gratitude wash through him like hot chocolate does on a freezing winter day.

“Haruka, I am sorry but I thought I made it very clear earlier that Dakota is not feeling well and should be left alone. I would appreciate it if you would please give her some space and maybe we can get back to figuring out what is wrong with my hand.”

Haruka was silent for a moment, she took a step back and then tilted her head with a small smile tugging at her lips.

“You named her.”

“What?”

“You named her. You two are farther along than I thought.”

Izuku was worried about what this could possibly mean. He knew that Haruka knew that Dakota was a dragon, that much was obvious from the vision he had had but he did not know what she meant by ‘being farther along’. Haruka frowned a little and brought her hand up to her chin for a minute, thinking carefully to herself. After a little while, though, she looked back up at Izuku and sighed.

“I guess I probably shouldn’t keep you in the dark anymore, how comfortable would you be if I invited you back to my cabin for some tea and a talk? I think you have figured out by now that I know about this dog being a dragon, Dakota was it?”

Izuku was a little dumbfounded but he fought to keep his face neutral. He didn’t want to give away anything yet as he still wasn’t clear on her intentions.

“Yes, her name is Dakota, but why should I trust you? Why should I come to your cabin?”

Haruka smiled genuinely then, her eyes brightening a little and her various bone jewelry jangling as she lifted up her arm and held out her hand, fingers stretched wide to reveal her palm. Izuku gasped and Dakota perked her ears as they both gazed down at the large swirly symbol that was engraved into the raised ridge of her palm.