#even as it's darkly funny that everyone else is willing to go along with his denial

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I saw your tags on your Percy Jackson post and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on the Umbrella Academy 👀👀👀

The tags: #i think both types of stories work#you just have to be CONSISTENT about it [side-eyes umbrella academy]

There's a lot I like about Umbrella Academy, and there's a lot that I forgive in Umbrella Academy because it's a comic book adaptation and most comics have similar problems. BUT.

In S2E9, when the Handler shoots live ammo from a real gun at a child, it's portrayed as sweet and harmless —bullets are just background noise (e.g. James Bond) and this show has slapstick stakes. In S2E10, when the Handler shoots from a real gun at six adults, they have a graphic drawn-out death scene — bullets kill people (e.g. Pulp Fiction) and this is a much darker type of show.

Klaus gets kidnapped and murdered in S1, and his siblings roll their eyes about how he's irresponsible. Klaus gets accidentally killed in S3, and his siblings react with devastation and horror. Violence is funny, when it's Five killing 20 of his coworkers. Violence is horrifying, when it's Viktor killing Pogo. So on.

You can't have it both ways. It creates mood whiplash. It makes the characters feel callous. It can feel like no events ever matter, so there's no point in caring. I can't tell how seriously to take any given scene, because the same sequence of actions is sometimes treated as comedy and sometimes as tragedy.

[loopy777]

RE: WIPs game: do I even want to know what Dicebenders is is it another scam how many times are the Gaang gonna get arrested for scamming

No, this time it's me scamming people. XD The dice in question are the RPG Dungeons & Dragons kind.

For a while I was doing a screencap webcomic in the style of "DM of the Rings" and "Darths & Droids" with another creative fan named Captain Boomerang. I was the scriptwriter and selected the screenshots for each panel, and Capt-BA would assemble the comics and improve my scripts (a process that did frustrate me a little, as I felt locked out of the revision process, but I did like the results. I just felt like I wasn't holding up my end of the partnership a bit). I wrote a story bible explaining the characters and storytelling rules, planned out the adaptation of the entire AtLA premiere, and had less detailed plans for the rest of the series, but we only got 6 comics in before Capt-BA went on a trip and never returned to the internet. I did manage to re-establish contact with her long enough to get permission to continue the comic, but the problem is that I have no image-editing skills whatsoever.

If I could find comic-making software that I know would do what I want and be easy to use, I wouldn't mind dropping some money on it, but everything I've looked at is trying to do lots of things I don't need. I only want a way to import existing pictures into comic grids, and then easily add dialogue bubbles. That's it. But the stuff I've found is more about image-editing than comic assembly, and it takes me an hour to put together a dialogue bubble that looks good. So I have 3 scripts that were never produced, which along with the planning docs are what's in that WIP folder, and I don't ever see myself going beyond that.

Besides, someone else already managed to complete something like this, and while I'm not a fan, I don't need to be. At this point, Dicebenders is dead. I'm glad I tried it, and it's a shame it didn't work out, but I'm happy with the other projects I've done instead.

I am squatting on an empty Tumblr for it, though.

Anyway, to share something new, here's the first section of the Story Bible I wrote to make sure Capt-BA and I were on the same page in terms of characterization. The rest of the bible details the plotlines for full series.

AVATAR: THE LAST DICEBENDER

BIBLE

Premise- A small group of players attempt to run a fantasy martial arts RPG that winds up essentially becoming the Avatar saga, or something very close. The main point of the series is comedy, based mostly on ridiculous links between Avatar and RPG's. Sometimes the humor will be in the vast difference between what happens in the comic, and what happens in the cartoon with the same screenshots. Other times, the funny will come from the unexpected ways they converge.

SPIRITUAL PREDECESSORS

DM of the Rings- The original, and my personal favorite. It's a good showcase of how to run a single quest together, while using narrative jumps to skip to the good bits.

Darths & Droids- A similar project, this stands out from its predecessor in two main ways. The players and GM are more friendly with each other, and are more or less having fun with each other. There is also a running, coherent storyline in both the game and in the lives of the players.

Benders & Brawlers- This is actually an existing attempt to do Darths & Droids with Avatar. This is helpful as an example of what we DON'T want to do, retell the Avatar story in a completely straightforward manner, with RPG players behind the characters.

CHARACTERS

None of the characters will be given real names. The players shall always be referred to by their character names, although this can be done in a teasing, ironic manner. When the characters are speaking, their dialogue bubble must always be attached to an image of the character.

The Gamemaster- The GM is a female in her early teens. She is a geek, and a bit of a social outcast for it. Nevertheless, she's trying to make that work for her, although she's not quite mature enough to make it happen yet. She has just discovered RPG's, and in her enthusiasm has gone all out in starting her own campaign. The only problem is that she doesn't know how to recruit players, so she ropes her best friend and little brother into playing with her. This is the GM's first campaign, so she'll a little in over her head. She knows the mechanics of play, and what she's supposed to be doing as GM, but doesn't have the fine skill in crafting an engaging RPG experience. Still, she wants to do her best, is willing to learn, and has a positive attitude about the whole thing. The GM has a strong crush on the Sokka player, but the only way she can express it is by having all the female NPC's flirt with the Sokka character.

Katara- Female in early teens, and the GM's best friend. Katara's player was friends with the GM from when they were both in grammar school, so while they have grown up into wildly different personality types, they are fully loyal to each other. Katara is popular, and outgoing, and doesn't care or know about geek stuff at all. She's only playing the game because the GM begged her to. At first, Katara is clueless about RPG's, and frequently questions or ridicules the mechanics of the game. She never quite gets into the idea of role-playing, but quickly takes to the idea of meta-gaming. She'll have her character act like a righteous do-gooder, because completing missions and fighting bad guys earns XP. She hoards items that will boost her stats. She'll advocate abandoning a mission/plot if it doesn't pay out enough rewards. Katara's player also can tend towards trying to Mary Sue her character, but this is inconsistent and usually shot down by everyone else.

Aang- Male in junior high, and the GM's little brother. He plays simply because his sister has cajoled him into it, and there are hints that he's getting some kind of reward or payment for it. He abuses his position by forcing the GM to give him what he wants in the game, even if it breaks the rules- access to the restricted Airbender class, the ability to bend all four elements, overloaded stats, an Avatar State that protects him from dying, a magic super flying cow ride, etc. However, it's important to note that Aang's player isn't a jerk. He's just immature, and like all kids, just always goes for what he wants via the easiest path, and doesn't realize that he may be causing trouble or hurting feelings. He's enthusiastic about trying out this RPG thing, but he has trouble coming up with any action beyond attacking or retreating. He's also hyper aware that the GM and Katara are girls. He is too old for cootie concerns, but thinks that girls are fundamentally different creatures with their own incomprehensible concerns. Having a big sister, he doesn't find this a big deal, just part of life. Aang's player is too young to be a geek. He likes cartoons and sports and fantasy and school-dramas. He also tends to follow whatever his sister likes.

Sokka- Male in late teens. This guy is your quintessential RPG player. He has is own top-quality dice, he's played campaigns and systems of all kinds, and knows the tropes of the hobby cold. He's a huge geek for all things geeky, but roleplay is easily his favorite. He's a social outcast, but he's made friends among his fellow geeks, and thinks life is just fine. Sokka's player joins when he meets the GM at the comic/games shop they both frequent. The GM was buying some sourcebooks and material to support the fantasy martial arts game she's running, and Sokka noticed, asked about it, liked what he heard, and got permission to join the game. What Sokka doesn't realize, because he is a geek and neither has experience with it or realizes it's even possible, is that the GM is sweet on him. This manifests in the character Sokka's canon luck with the ladies, only kicked up a notch. *Every single* female NPC flirts with him, whether it's appropriate or not. Sometimes player Sokka notices and tries to roleplay it, and sometimes he's just plain confused. Sokka has a few quirks. His best set of dice are his Lucky Red Dice, which always roll high when he needs it, but have been tested and proven to be fair dice. He also mandates that every character he plays use a boomerang; he was turned into a geek by the first video game he ever played, a Legend of Zelda title, and his favorite weapon from those games are the boomerang. Each of his characters has a unique, named boomerang.

Zuko- The GM's favorite NPC. She created him to be a compelling, dramatic character, with a complicated back story, moral struggles, badass loner personality, angst about his existence, a darkly noble quality, and a cool scar. The GM intended Katara to get to know Zuko, for her to try to woo him away from the side of evil, and perhaps to even have a romance with him. The PC's, however, couldn't care less about him. To them, he's just another mini-boss, and the fact that most of his character development is happening "off screen" means they don't realize that he's recruitable. A frequent gag is Zuko delivering a stirring monologue while no one pays attention.

Iroh- Background NPC. The GM tries to use him to give (ignored) hints to the players.

Toph- (tentative) A male munchkin gamer who picked a long list of weaknesses in order to get superbending. Toph's player is a friend of Sokka's player, brought in after an "incident" with his old group, and causes some initial resentment in the group when tries to show the n00bs how its done. Cowing Toph's player is a major victory for the GM.

Momo- NPC, but maybe make him a talking sidekick who gives the players hints when the GM is really exasperated?

Azula- the GM's best favorite villain. Azula is the GM unleashed, letting her take out frustrations on the players in both combat and harsh taunting. Eventually the GM comes to like the character so much, she retcons mental health issues into the character's backstory, and has her pet NPC, Zuko, spare her.

[eat0crow]

Maribat prompt - Bruce adopts Marinette please? (Sorry if I misunderstood and this is what you did Not want. If that's the case just ignore this, sorry)

Nope, you didn’t misunderstand at all Anon! I hope you don’t mind a bit of humor, I had a really shitty night-so many customers decided to yell at me it’s not even funny. I needed something lighthearted.

Beta read by some lovely people on the Maribat Discord server.

Who Needs Paperwork?

Bruce is done. So painfully done, that the only one who can’t see just how thin a line he’s walking is the source of his annoyance. Hal Jordan, the very man who makes homicide look more appealing every day. Did Bruce really need a moral code?

It just seemed to get in the way.

From behind him doors slam, people scatter, and yet Hal won’t catch the hint. “All I’m saying is that, isn’t it time you guys settled down, and had a whole flock of little birdies?”

Bruce has never, not once in his life, desired friends. He hadn’t wanted a relationship either, yet here he is, six months into a decades in the making relationship with Clark Kent. If Bruce had known that the League would take his relationship as a sign of him getting soft, he would have sworn Clark to secrecy.

“I’m going to the training room.” Which should have roughly translated to 'follow me, and I’ll use you for target practice'. Several people within hearing distance shudder at the implication. Bruce is darkly satisfied; he hasn’t seen this much fear directed at him in months. Hal Jordan, well Bruce has theories on how green lantern cores affect intelligence.

None of them are particularly positive.

“It’s never too early to start working on your ninja kid army,” Hal says lightly, as if he’s talking about the weather, and not something as morally bankrupt as child soldiers. Sure he trained Robin young, but it’s not like Bruce had a choice. Dick would have been fighting mob bosses with or without his consent. Training had been the only thing keeping him out of even more danger. “Who’s going to carry on your terrifying legacy?”

“I already have Robin.” And because Bruce can see Hal’s next sentence before he even says it— “And Clark has Conner. Aside from procreation being wholly unnecessary, it’s also physically impossible. You are aware that it requires a woman to produce off-spring, right?”

“Yeah, tell that to LexCorp,” Hal mumbles under his breath. Bruce would be lying if he said he hadn’t ever wondered about that. Sure Conner’s a clone, but he’s also the most stable clone Bruce had ever seen. He wouldn’t put it past Luthor to have spliced in a secondary set of DNA. “Just think about it Spooky. Combine your brains with Clark’s powers and bam! You’ve got the one person on earth who could defeat Doomsday without breaking a sweat. Isn’t that a better tomorrow?”

Bruce stops, because things make a lot more sense now. Doomsday had been terrifying, he opened up a whole world of possibilities. Of threats too strong for the League to deal with, just waiting. There’s no escaping this conversation. Even if he tunes it out now, Hal will just bring it up again and again, until Clark finally catches on. That will make the man pout.

Bruce really doesn’t like it when Clark pouts.

He might not have the patience to deal with Hal’s solution to apocalypse inducing threats now, but he’ll have even less later when Barry no doubt joins Hal’s crusade. One idiot is bad enough. Bruce is not willing to explain to Dick why he killed his best friend's uncle.

“That’s why the Young Justice League was formed,” Bruce points out slowly, his voice careful, like he’s explaining the concept to a toddler. Hal probably has an I.Q that stalled around the fifth grade, so same difference. “Their role is to carry on our legacies in protecting earth after we’re unable.”

“That’s not what I mean! Sure, by the time they graduate out of the little leagues they’ll be ready to take over, but that’s just it. They’re a miniature Justice League. They’ll have the exact same blind spots as us. I’m talking about combining skill sets here.”

Bruce actually hadn’t thought of that, and as much as the words choke him to admit, Hal is right. They would be subject to the exact same failings as the current League. They’re a group trained to take over specific positions. They’ve been trained for years and no one, not even Robin, would be able to break close to half a decades worth of habits.

They make it to the training room, and a flash of vivid, bright red catches his eye. The newest member, Ladybug is talking to Clark. Bruce hadn’t been aware that he would be joining him for this training session, but it all works out nicely.

Ladybug looks worn, and Bruce doesn’t doubt she is. The girl is Diana’s apprentice, not sidekick. They've both been adamant about that. No one, not even Diana, knows her identity. Bruce could respect a healthy dose of secrecy, but she’s only around Dick’s age. The information on her is scarce, and Diana is tight-lipped. Partially out of ignorance and partially out of some vague magical pact her mother made.

A combined skillset.

Ladybug doesn't have years of habits to break. If her own admissions are anything to go by, she doesn’t have any formal training outside of noncombatant magic. She’s dangerously smart too. Bruce has seen her improvise enough times. Sure, she might not have as much super-strength as Clark, but Bruce has seen her lift far more than her frame should allow. Maybe strength proportional to a ladybug’s? Her skin is certainly reinforced by what has to be the tensile strength of an exoskeleton.

Which is glossing over her ability to create solid matter through pure will—maybe he'll have Hal train her a bit, her powers are similar enough to a Green Lanterns’.

“You have a point, Lantern.”

There’s a suspicious pause. “I do?”

Bruce offers him his most deadpan expression. So even Hal knows that ninety percent of what leaves his mouth is garbage, good to know. “The League will be comprised of individuals with the same failings as current Leaguers. In the event of world-ending threats, we can not afford these failings. So I will be taking your advice.”

“Oh, that’s...good.” Hal looks perplexed, like he hadn’t expected his argument to land him anywhere but in a body cast.

“However,” Bruce continues, walking over toward Clark and Ladybug. “I have no interest in experimental science that’s no doubt illegal in numerous countries. So, we’ll be adopting.”

“We will!” Clark shrieks from his left.

Everyone else in the room gasps. Bruce ignores them, reaching out instead to grab Ladybug. “She’ll be the perfect candidate.”

"Bruce," Clark whines. "That's not how adoption works. You've skipped so many steps."

Bruce sends him a pointed look, the one that says play along or you're sleeping on the couch. Clearly, Clark gets the message because he shuts up. The look on his face also implies that Bruce is going to be out in the dog house for this stunt, but he chooses to ignore it anyway.

So what if Alfred likes Clark more. Bruce still owns the house.

Ladybug, to her credit, only blinks.

Wide blue eyes stare at him, she looks eerily similar to Dick and Conner. They all share the same coloring: black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She has Dick’s delicate bone structure, Bruce could probably pass the two of them off as twins.

Dick is going to be roped into teaching her some actual acrobatics as soon as possible. Would a grappling hook be an appropriate ‘welcome to the family’ gift? Bruce doesn't trust her yo-yo.

A beat passes. “I already have parents.”

“Not superhero parents.”

[hermannsthumb]

93 for the winter prompts? Thanks! Your fics keep my Newmann love alive

A YEAR LATER….I GET AROUND TO THIS ONE….hope u still care

Anonymous said: I saw this prompt and I love it so much! “93. i’ve been entering fun ice sculptures to our town’s contest for years and they never win but i overhear you talking about how it’s stupid that some angel wins every year and my clever/funny ones never do when they’re more creative” Would you be willing to write it?

93. i’ve been entering fun ice sculptures to our town’s contest for years and they never win but i overhear you talking about how it’s stupid that some angel wins every year and my clever/funny ones never do when they’re more creative

from winter writing prompts here

—————————

On a scale from one to ten, Newt’s artistic abilities lie at a pretty firm five, and that’s only because his dad used to shell out and get him the big packs of colored pencils and crayons for school when he was a kid. (The good shit too, like, the biggest packs available. Newt was the envy of the playground when he wasn’t getting bullied.) He can’t draw for shit. He can’t, like, mold ashtrays or glue rhinestones onto pants for shit. He couldn’t even design his own tattoos, as much as he tried—everything came out as ugly squiggles that made his artist squint and frown and politely slide Newt a sheet of tattoo samples.

The only exception to that rule is—for some God-only-knows-reason that Newt discovered after taking a class on a whim one boring December—Newt is the fucking bomb at ice sculptures. He loves it. He’d do it all year round if he could. He’s sculpted everything from snowflakes to dinosaurs to DNA strands, and each year he only gets better.

Unfortunately, you know, no one else seems to think so.

Each year, Newt gets better at it, and each year, Newt enters the local ice sculpture contest, and each year—after hours of toil, blood, sweat, and shivering—he comes second (or third) place to some lame gingerbread man or whatever that took, like, half the amount of time as Newt’s and used half the imagination he did.

Whatever. Newt’s dad always comes and claps obnoxiously for him no matter what, and then takes him out to dinner afterwards, so—personally—Newt thinks the judge committee can just shove that sparkly ribbon and five hundred dollar price up their asses where they belong. Newt knows his own worth, thanks.

(The five hundred dollars would be nice.)

Newt spends another few hours on his entry for this year, a sick ice Godzilla tearing up a sick ice skyscraper. A unique sick ice Godzilla. He expected that everyone else would be sculpting generic Christmas shit, like reindeer and snowmen, and he was right; he was also right in his expectations that his sick entry would be glossed over for one of them. Lame.

“Lame,” Newt says to himself as one of the judges pins the sparkly first place ribbon onto a woman who sculpted some sort of angel. Newt didn’t even place this year. (Second place went to the reindeer, third to the snowman.) After all that time he spent carving a dozen sharp teeth, too. 

“Mm,” the man standing next to him says, which Newt wasn’t expecting. “I quite agree.”

Newt turns. “You what?”

The guy’s sallow-faced and pointy, with outdated clothing, granny glasses, and a brass-handled cane that he leans on with two folded hands. He’s frowning at the ice angel in a manner Newt would call distinctly unimpressed. He’s also kinda hot, in a weird old professor way. Not that it matters. “I said I quite agree. It’s…uninventive.”

“Uh,” Newt says. “Yeah—yeah, it is.”

“And they give the award to something like it every single year,” the guy continues, growing more unimpressed by the second, “other angels, or snowflakes—meanwhile you’ve got actually interesting entries like number seven or whatnot who win nothing every year.”

Newt covertly tucks his arms over his Participant #7 sticky badge. “Uh,” he says, “I mean, it’s not always nothing…”

“It is,” the man says, darkly. “I come every year.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Big ice sculpture fan?”

“No,” the man says.

“Right,” Newt says.

He hums, shuffles his feet. His dad couldn’t make it this year, so Newt has plenty of time to check this guy out. “So, uh, how about that really cool dinosaur skeleton last year?”

“Mm, yes, that too,” the man says. “Beaten out by a bloody bell. Ridiculous. The level of detail–the accuracy–”

Hot, weird, and he likes Newt’s stuff. Newt’s half in love already. He sticks out his hand. “Participant number seven,” he says. “I did the dinosaur last year too. Nice to meet you. Call me Newt.”

The guy’s cheeks go a shade pinker as he catches sight of the #7 sticker on Newt’s chest; he coughs, and then scowls, rapping his cane once against the ground indignantly. “You could’ve said something,” he says.

Newt wiggles his hand. The guy takes it, begrudgingly, though he lingers a lot longer than a simple handshake requires. His hands are cold. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb,” he says.

Ooh, a doctor. Even hotter. Newt gives his most charming grin and is pleased to see Hermann’s blush spread to his ears (and Hermann’s eyes sweep over him in an obvious once-over). “If you’re interested, I’d be happy to give you some private sculpting lessons, Hermann,” he says. “Since I’ve impressed you so much, I mean.”

He expects more blushing and ducking, but Hermann squares his shoulders, and, looking Newt straight in the eyes, says “I was thinking something more along the lines of dinner.”

“Yes,” Newt says quickly. “Uh, yes.”

[nobodyfamousposts]

Story prompt: Adrien accidentally slips out that he knows Lila is lying to the class after Marinette changes schools. It is dead silent. It is broken by the snap of his nose when Alya punches him in fury

You should probably be more careful what you ask for, anon. But here goes:

Despite Adrien’s hopes, the situation after the Chameleon incident only continued to deteriorate. Lila was specifically targeting Marinette and since she had agreed with him on taking the “high road”, she had stopped trying to out any of Lila’s clearly obvious lies. This only ended up working against her as without any buffer, Lila was able to manipulate the class unhindered and everyone only seemed to fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

True to her good nature and stubborness, Marinette wouldn’t let Lila win. Regardless of the slowly losing battle, she did everything she could to help her friends and fend off the worst of Lila’s manipulations.

She was strong. She was confident. She was their Everyday Ladybug. She would keep trying, regardless of the stress and emotional harm it was causing.

Because Marinette always put others first. If it was for her friends, she would do anything, regardless of the effect on herself.

So it was perhaps either fortunate or unfortunate that her parents were not nearly so inclined to let her.

Tom and Sabine loved their daughter. They were good parents who wanted nothing but for her to be safe, healthy, and happy. With the way things were going, the current situation as it was going was none of those things. They were good parents who actually cared about their child, so of course they noticed. Marinette had been increasingly stressed, anxious, and unhappy due to the whole conflict. And her insistence on continuing to put herself through this for the sake of people who were showing themselves to be less than deserving of was really not something that they could support.

This school year had actually been the first that Marinette actually seemed excited about. She had finally had friends! And was able to stand up for herself to Chloe and others. She had becoming a star student and an amazing leader. They were so proud and happy for her. But they’ve had to sit by and watch as slowly but surely, Marinette’s feelings and her confidence were being stomped out and their daughter was once again being reduced to the wilting flower she had been.

They couldn’t simply stand by and let it happen. So they chose to do what was best for her to give her at least some peace and decided to transfer her to another school.

Marinette tried to argue, of course. She didn’t want to start over somewhere new. She didn’t want to leave her friends. There will be no one to protect them with her gone.

But Tom and Sabine were steadfast in their decision and had very little sympathy for those she was leaving in the web of lies.

It was sad. They had liked Marinette’s friends well enough, but if it came down to protecting their child or anyone else, the answer was obvious. The fact that her classmates had allowed themselves to be so thoroughly played didn’t garner the concern from them that Marinette clearly felt. As far as they were concerned, if her so-called “friends” were so willing to let themselves be turned against her over lies that should have been easily disproven had any of them bothered to look, then they clearly weren’t good friends and Marinette didn’t need to be around them.

There was no point trying to keep a relationship with them if she was the only one actually trying for it, they told her. And this was a toxic and negative situation that she really shouldn’t have to be facing alone.

“But I’m not alone! Adrien knows, too!”

Their looks of outrage told Marinette that was not the right thing to say. If there had been any doubt about completing the transfer, it was gone after that. As was any likelihood of her parents to allow Adrien anywhere near their daughter.

It was to a less than enthusiastic response by everyone except Lila that Marinette was forced to say goodbye to her now former classmates and start school elsewhere. For all of Marinette’s attempts to retain positive relationships with them, none of her former friends really seemed particularly sad to see her go with perhaps the sole exception of Adrien.

The rest simply shrugged it off, figuring the class would be much less stressful without Marinette there to accuse Lila of things and cause drama. And for a time, they were right. No more hangouts after school. No more helping Marinette deal with her over the top issues and feelings for Adrien. No more of Marinette trying to point out discrepancies and say mean things about Lila. No more Marinette to be jealous for no good reason.

And for a time, they were okay with it. All of them were. Except maybe Adrien, but since he never said anything, it was never an issue regardless.

So the days were spent with Lila spinning some new tale. Keeping herself the center of attention. Clinging to Adrien’s arm and trying to cajole him into asking her out. The class members each just going about their own thing. And nobody thinking of Marinette (or trying not to think of Marinette as the case may be).

But it was a couple of months after Marinette left that the threads of Lila’s web started to unravel.

Despite Lila’s assurances, Nino wasn’t seeing or hearing anything about a possible meeting with a Hollywood director that she promised.

Alya wasn’t getting anything further from Lila in regards to an interview with Ladybug. (And tried very hard not to think about the time Marinette had gone well out of her way to manage that)

For that matter, certain things she was saying about Ladybug seemed…off. Alya had figured she couldn’t really judge since Ladybug was so mysterious, but as a temporary Miraculous user who had worked with Ladybug in the past, there were things she was aware of that the common person wasn’t. And this meant that she started to notice some aspects of Lila’s stories about Ladybug just didn’t seem to fit.

Other classmates started to become unsettled as things Lila promised weren’t coming through. 

And then Rose had gotten a letter from Prince Ali expressing confusion about who this “Lila” was.

From there, it snowballed. They started actually checking what Lila had been saying and it became more and more clear.

Lila had been lying the whole time.

Marinette had been telling the truth all along.

They lost a real friend to be replaced with a schemer who only sought to use them for her own ends.

They were upset. They were furious. They felt used.

The word spread and it wasn’t long before the entire class knew. They gathered before school one day to discuss the matter and deliberate on what to do.

Then Adrien entered, appearing confused by the presence of the rest of the class and the tension in the room.

They explained the situation. That Lila had been playing them all this time. They tried to break it to him gently, knowing that Adrien was a soft and hopeful person who wanted to see the best in others.

They didn’t expect him to say that he already knew.

It was only after he had spoken that Adrien realized those were the wrong words to say.

It was in the way the room immediately fell silent.

It was in the way his classmates were gaping at him in dawning horror.

There was a chuckle, nervous growing on hysterical. It took him a moment to realize the source was his normal calm best friend.

“Adrien…you’re joking, right?” Nino asked, shakily. “Please tell me that was just a joke.”

Adrien stared.

“I-I mean, it was a bad one, sure. Not very funny, but…it’s not actually true, right? You didn’t know what Lila was doing and just…not tell anyone, right?”

In that moment, Adrien wanted nothing more than to tell him what he knew he wanted him to say. But he couldn’t.

So he remained silent, just as he always had in the face of such conflict.

The silence was broken seconds later by a shriek of rage before pain exploded in his face where a vengeful Alya decked him.

“WHY YOU LOUSY, SORRY EXCUSE OF A—” She screamed, barely cutting herself off.

He stared up at her in shock. She…Alya had actually hit him?

“All this time—ALL THIS TIME! Marinette had been trying for YOU? And you just…you just LET THIS HAPPEN TO HER?!”

Adrien didn’t understand what she was getting at.

“I tried asking Lila before to stop!”

“Oh, well if you ASKED once, that’s enough?” Alya seethed.

“It didn’t fix anything! She just got angry and was akumatized. Trying to out her wouldn’t have made her change!”

Nino stared at him, looking almost broken. “Did you even stop to think that maybe this wasn’t about Lila?”

Adrien blinked in surprise.

“You could have told me. I would have listened to you, man. It at least would have saved me a lot of this heartache right now.”

The blond winced at that.

“It would have prevented a lot of what’s happened.” Alya muttered darkly, and Adrien knew her thoughts were fully on Marinette and the circumstances of her leaving.

This situation was messed up. He knew that. It had gotten much worse and gone much farther than he ever thought it would. Still, he felt the need to defend himself.

“Her lies weren’t hurting anyone!”

“Not hurting any—are you mental?!” Ivan asked, shocked.

“I’m feeling pretty hurt.” Kim stated, flatly.

“We all are.” Mylene confirmed.

“She played us.” Max said, looking grim. “She played us like we were fools and we fell for it. But you—you knew! And you chose not to say anything.”

“Outing her wouldn’t have helped things!” Adrien insisted, only to be greeted with shocked looks and incredulous stares.

“Are you serious? You actually didn’t think that maybe us at least knowing about it might have helped to prevent anything?” Alix demanded.

“I just…I didn’t see the harm.”

“Even to Marinette?” Came the quiet question from a very disappointed Rose and god, he’d never thought he could see Rose level such a sad look at him.

“I…she…”

“Something I’ve noticed…” Nathaniel said, finally speaking up from his position in the back and drawing everyone’s attention to him. “I’ve never commented on it because I didn’t feel it was my place to judge. But Adrien…you have a very irritating tendency to overlook or even condone horrible things people do over the feelings of their victims.”

“What? No! I don’t—”

“You do.” Nino interrupted, looking sick. “You didn’t out Chloe when she pulled the fire alarm. We all had to clean up her mess and the most you did was threaten not to be her friend anymore before taking it back just hours later.”

“You lectured Marinette for being happy when Chloe was leaving, even though you knew full well how Chloe had been treating her and that she had been treating her that poorly for years.” Alix cut in with a heated glare.

“And now this.” Nathaniel said with a nod. “Lila was lying. Marinette knew. You also knew and could have backed her up at any point. But you didn’t.” 

“None of you exactly tried to look into things.” He said in his own defense.

“Oh, don’t you even try to deflect on this!” Alya snarled. “We didn’t KNOW Lila was lying. YOU did. You knew this and said nothing when she was manipulating us! And—” Her breath hitched and she looked away in shame. “And you knew when she started to target Marinette.”

He winced. “I couldn’t—”

That immediately brought her glare on him full force. If looks could kill…there wouldn’t be atoms left of him. “And you just let her! to MARINETTE!”

“I-I didn’t—”

“SHE LOVED YOU, DAMMIT!”

Adrien froze.

“…What?”

Alya clenched her fists, seething.

“All this time—ALL THIS TIME! She did SO MUCH for you! And no matter how badly it backfired or how much it hurt her, she kept trying FOR YOU.”

She…Marinette had…?

But Alya wasn’t done yet.

“You don’t think telling the truth is worth it? Well, here’s a few ‘truths’ for you, pretty boy!”

The other girls present gasped, realizing what she was about to do, but she didn’t waste any time to give anyone a chance to stop her. She just kept talking.

“Marinette agreed to go with you to the ice rink to help YOU on your date with Kagami despite being insanely in love with you. You didn’t even think about how she would feel, did you?”

He blanched. “S-she didn’t say anything—!”

“Of course she didn’t! Because each and every time she did anything with you, her only concern had ever been to make YOU happy! N—” She choked back a sob. “—No matter how much it hurt her to.”

“Alya, stop!” Rose pleaded.

“It’s not worth it.” Alix tried to convince her.

“LIKE HELL IT ISN’T!” Alya shouted with such fury that it had Adrien flinching back.

“A-Alya…”

“You want to know what else though?” Alya said with a downright vindictive sneer. “That birthday scarf of yours? The one you said your dad got you?”

Please don’t…

“MARINETTE MADE IT! She made it and tried to give it to you but your shit-show of a father STOLE IT!”

Adrien felt himself shaking. His eyes were wide in shock and pain because…that couldn’t be true, right?

“Then YOU came to school wearing it and praising your dad for giving it to you and she knew—Marinette KNEW what had happened but she kept quiet because AGAIN, it made YOU happy!”

“I…” He choked. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t! You never bothered to! You never bothered to know her or anything outside of your perfect little sunshine world!” Alya raged. “And I kept quiet because it’s what Marinette wanted, but Marinette isn’t here anymore and it’s YOUR FAULT!”

“Alya, stop!” Nino shouted, stepping in-between them and resting both hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her.

It was an attempt that made absolutely no difference, as Alya merely shifted to look over his shoulder and past Nino right to Adrien with the worst expression he’d ever seen.

“Hell, you’re only even in school now because Marinette took the fall for YOU and told your dad she was the one who took his stupid missing book!”

Adrien felt his blood turn cold.

“Do you know what that could have done? Just how badly Gabriel could have RUINED her and any future she could have hoped to have if he felt like it? All for something she didn’t even do! Again, just to make YOU happy!”

“I…I…”

“From her time and effort to her very heart, she put so much on the line for you!”

She hissed and stepped back, seeming to finally lose the fire that had kept her going this long as she whispered pitifully, just loud enough for him to hear:

“And you never deserved her.”

The room fell into silence. No one could say anything after that. Alya spun on her heels and stormed out. Nino chased after her. One by one, the rest followed.

And Adrien was left standing there alone in the empty classroom.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day One - Hidden Connections

AN: You guys!!! Spideychelle week is finally here!! Ahhhh I’m so excited to see what everyone else as written and to share my stuff! Here is my contribution to day one! It’s a little short and quick, and there’s a fair amount of non-romantic stuff in it, but I just thought this idea was really funny and had to write it down! A huge thank you to @spideychelleweek for putting this together! 

Prompt: Secret Relationship AU/College AU

Pls enjoy some 2.4k of humor, fluff, and a dash of angst.

.

.

“To whom it may concern,”

“Dear Sir or Madam,”

“Dear Mr. Bugle,”

“Hello,

I hope your day is going well.

My name is Peter Parker, and I happened to film the altercation between the criminal known as Rhino and the heroes Luke Cage and Spider-Man on the intersection of 42nd Street and 11th Avenue. I have some screencaps of it attached, if you are interested in the video for a blog post, let me know. I am willing to sell said footage for a discounted quick-sale price.

Sincerely,

Yours Truly,

Love,

Thanks,

Peter Parker

--

Releasing a puff of air through his lips, Peter hits send.

The clickable ad he’d seen while scrolling through Facebook said: SEND VIDEOS OF SPIDER-MAN. $1 PER SECOND*. It was only after he’d clicked did he notice the fine print: Spider-Man must be within the frame for the whole second, otherwise the dollar is void.

But that doesn’t matter. Peter has a full five minutes that Dronie had so graciously recorded for him of Luke Cage and him kicking Rhino’s ass.

And he really needs the money.

MJ’s birthday is four days away, a day which also coincides with his rent being due, so in other words: he’s essentially broke. While he does have money in his bank account, he only has enough for one of those things, not both, and he can’t really afford to be evicted at this point. He knows MJ won’t leave him if he doesn’t get her anything…

But she at least deserves something nice.

This video should net him roughly $300; he can take her out to a nice dinner, maybe buy her something actually decent for a change. Not another scarf.

And who knows? She might not even want to go out to a fancy restaurant, seeing as she’s turned down every offer he’s given to take her out in the six months they’ve been dating. Every date night, it’s either been take-out, a quick slice, or some kind of fast food. Not that he’s complaining about hanging out with his girlfriend; every minute spent with her was more than enough. And he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a little easier on the wallet.

But there was still that seed of doubt. Why did she never want to leave Queens? Why was it always such a rush to get back home? Why hadn’t she introduced him to her parents? The intrusive, relentless thought that her being embarrassed of him might have been a factor whispered darkly in the back of his mind. He knows he can be immature at times, both with his sense of humor and overall behavior, so, albeit shamefully, he could understand where she was coming from.

Maybe a nice present accompanied by a fancy dinner could help to prove that he can act like a grown-up.

Maybe.

--

The next morning, while happily munching on a bowl of Hulk O’s, he’s genuinely surprised to see a reply in his notification bar from none other than J. Jonah Jameson himself.

“I want to see that video. Will talk about your payment after I have it analyzed by my team.

Your appointment is today at 9am. Don't be late.

J.J. Jameson

Editor for the Daily Bugle Heralding Your Daily News │Tel [212] 555-7109│Fax [877] 555-0971

Sent from my iPhone.”

Peter only allows himself a moment to be put off by the the informality of Jameson’s response, brows crinkled as he turns to check the time.

8:30 AM.

He drops his spoon into the bowl, milk and soggy cereal splashing.

Well, shit.

He stuffs whatever clothes he can find into a backpack before roughly yanking his suit on; he flings himself out of his fifth story window, cereal bowl abandoned on the kitchen counter. Phone in hand, following along on Google Maps, he wonders how super heroes were able to find their way around big cities before GPS.

The next thirty minutes fly by in a blur, and Peter honestly doesn’t know how he’s able to put enough brain cells together to find a place to change into his civilian “interview” clothes. It’s a wonder he made it there in one piece.

The lobby doesn’t have any kind of directory, or any indication of where J. Jonah Jameson is supposed to be. In fact, Peter isn’t even sure where he’s supposed to meet the guy, unable to recall if there’d been anything like that in the email.

He gingerly approaches the front desk, ducking his head down slightly as he offers a smile to the receptionist. “Uhm, hello! I’m here to see Mr. Jameson?”

The woman gives him the the quick once over, visibly unimpressed. “You got a delivery, kid?”

“Uh, n-no.” Peter shifts awkwardly, smile fading. “He, uh, he sent me an email. To meet him at nine? Today? Right… Right now?”

“Hold on,” she says, her voice monotone, turning to the phone on the desk and dialing a four digit number with freshly manicured nails.

Peter starts to say, “Thanks,” but is cut off by the woman holding a finger up.

“Hey Ted, I’ve got a kid down here. Says he’s supposed to meet with Jameson. Do you know anything about it?”

She listens for a moment, nodding. “Okay, thanks.”

Click.

“Okay, kid, go over to that elevator. 17th floor. Someone will meet you.”

Peter smiles again, throwing a quick, but polite, “Thank you,” over his shoulder as he moves.

He’s met by who he assumes to be Ted, a slight middle-aged man with tired eyes. “Peter Parker?” He asks.

Peter nods.

“Alright, follow me.”

Peter isn’t taken directly to the office at first, only being seated in the waiting area just outside.

For thirty minutes.

9 AM, he said. Don’t be late, he said.

The door to the office is ajar, the sound of Jameson yelling at and berating some poor unfortunate soul over the phone almost as loud as the clacking of Ted’s typing on his keyboard.

“I don’t care what that weasel said, I want it done right this time! And if you had done what I’d told you to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!” There’s a pause as Jameson presumably listens to the person on the other line begging for mercy. “Fine. Go with the lilac. It’ll clash with your comforter, you’ll see. Don’t come crying to me when you have to buy a whole new bed set.”

Another beat of just Ted’s typing passes.

“Okay. Love you, Mom. Buh-bye.” Jameson hangs up, before yelling out the door. “HOFFMAN!”

“Yes, sir?” Ted answers quickly.

“MY 9:00 IS LATE. IT’S 9:30!”

“No, sir, he’s here sir. He’s been here since 9.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I COULD’VE HAVE ENDED THIS CONVERSATION SOONER. MAKE A NOTE OF THAT, HOFFMAN.”

“Yes, sir. Will do, sir.”

“NEXT TIME, INTERRUPT MY PHONE CALL. STICK YOUR HEAD IN HERE. GIVE ME A SIGNAL.” He sighs. “Okay. Send him in.”

Ted looks over. “You can go on in. Good luck.”

Peter falters for a moment, wondering if he’s really willing to go through with this.

No. He is. MJ was more than worth it.

He says a quick, “Thank you,” before walking in to the lion’s den.

Jameson sits at his desk, looking up briefly, chewing on an unlit cigar. “Well, quit your dawdling, get in here.”

Peter picks up the pace.

The man glares at him for an uncomfortable few moments, sizing him up, before extending his hand. “You got the video?” He asks, skipping introductions entirely.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” Peter swallows, handing him the drive.

Jameson hums. “I was expecting someone… More… professional.”

It’s then that Peter realizes he’d left his apartment without even combing his hair or brushing his teeth. He hadn’t even bothered put on deodorant or to change out of his The Mighty Thorgi t-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of the day before yesterday’s and yesterday’s jeans, and to make matters worse, he’s wearing two different shoes; one grey converse and one blue.

“You homeless or something? Because there’s a soup kitchen around here.” Jameson spends the next few moments trying to plug in the USB to his computer, flipping it over and over. “Damn thing. HOFFMAN!”

Ted practically sprints in. “Yes, sir?”

Peter tries to speak. “I can do it if you—”

“—Don’t patronize me, kid,” Jameson snaps. “Hoffman. Plug this in.”

Peter watches in silence as Jameson’s expression never changes as the video plays out on his computer. Peter knows what’s on the video, he knows it by heart, in fact. He fought in it. When the video ends, Jameson leans back, his blank expression now seems thoughtful.

“I’m gonna give it to you straight kid,” He says. “It’s a good video. Now I can send this down to my lab nerds. They can calculate the exact amount of time that Spider-Man’s in a full frame. I’m guessing it’s gonna be around $120 to $150. But, that’s if we give you credit, of course. If you wanna sign the rights of this video over to us, we’re looking at, say, $350 upfront. You won’t be credited, though.”

To Peter, that actually sounds pretty good; he gets a good amount of money, more than he thought, and his name won’t be tied to his alter-ego. It’s a win-win. “Oh, yeah! That sounds great!”

Jameson’s smile is shark-like. “Great. HOFFMAN! GET ME CONTRACT A27!”

“Do you mean A63, sir?” Ted asks from the door, contract already in hand, placing it on the desk.

“Yes, yes of course. A63.” Jameson shakes his head. “Can’t get decent help around here,” he mutters.

Peter signs where Ted indicates. Jameson signs the last page and hands back the contract.

“I’ll be back with your copy,” Hoffman says as he exits the room.

Jameson then opens his drawer, retrieving a thick check book and grabbing a pen. “Parker Peterson, right?”

“No, no. Just… Peter… Parker.”

As Jameson writes the check, Peter takes the time to take in the office around him, his eyes drawn immediately to the portrait on the desk. His stomach drops as he realizes who it is.

No doubt about it.

That’s a picture of his girlfriend.

Why is there a picture of MJ… on Jameson’s desk?

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

Jameson’s voice startles Peter, and he looks over, the older man glaring right into him. “Huh?” Peter asks.

“She’s pretty, right? It’s okay. You can say she’s pretty. Beautiful even.”

Peter nods, voice soft. “Yeah. Really beautiful.” And he means it, more than anything, nervous as he is; MJ is the most beautiful person he’s ever known.

With the flick of his wrist, Jameson deliberately flips the portrait away from Peter.

In the amount of time Peter’s been in the office, Jameson has had two volumes: Loud and VERY LOUD. There seems to be a third setting, however. In a hushed, threatening tone, Jameson seethes. “Listen here, kid. I don’t need no smelly, grubby, unemployed jackass drooling all over my daughter.”

Wait, what?!

Fuck.

“I don’t know what thoughts were going through your sick little mind, but that’s my little girl, and I will be damned if she fuels your pervy little spank bank! Do I make myself clear?”

Oh, if only he knew...

Even though Peter could easily take down the older man, he still finds himself shrinking back slightly.

He nods profusely. “Yes, sir, of course sir.”

“Good.” Jameson roughly shoves the check at Peter. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice as he dashes through the door, nearly running past Hoffman who expertly passes him the contract copy.

“Have a nice day!” Hoffman calls as Peter disappears down the hallway.

--

Omw, the text read from MJ.

Luckily, Peter had already planned for arrival; the apartment’s clean, the floors vacuumed, Febreez has been sprayed. Conditions were perfect. All he needed to do now was sit and wait, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his thigh, the events from earlier replaying in his head on some kind of torturous loop.

The sound of the key turning the lock fifteen minutes later had his pulse quickening. She was here. “I brought Chinese!” She called as she set the bags down on the dining room table.

Peter cuts right to the chase, barely lasting a second. “So. I met your dad today.”

MJ nearly drops the lo mein, her eyes blown wide. “Oh my God.”

Peter shrugs.

“I am so. So. Sorry.”

He tilts his head a fraction, brows wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t know how he find out,” She says, almost to herself. “I tried to keep this— us— hidden from him. He chases away any guy who comes close to me; friend, colleague… One time a teacher said I was a remarkable student and he— It doesn’t matter. I’ve tried explaining this hetero-normative, misogynistic bullshit to him, but it just goes right over his head. He’s always had this… toxic paternity complex. Like, I know that he loves me, I guess, but that’s no excuse.” She folds her arms across her chest, glancing away, her eyes welling in frustration. “And I just didn’t want him to scare you away.”

Peter puts his hands on her arms. “Woahwoahwoahwoah. Hey. It’s okay.” She looks up at him. “He doesn’t know about us. I just went to the Bugle today to sell a video of Spider-Man… and I saw your picture on his desk.”

Relief washes over her, and she puts a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Peter grins, before growing confused again, expression crinkling. “I thought your last name was Jones?”

“It is.”

“Then…?”

“So’s my Mom’s,” she elaborates. “They just never got married. Or stayed together, really.”

“Ah, gotcha,” Peter nods.

A comfortable silence fills the room, the food on the table surely getting colder by the minute. But MJ finds that her curiosity is growing too strong. She has to know.

“What did he say?”

Peter snorts, face scrunching as he scratches the back of his neck. “A lot. He totally freaked out when I said you were pretty.”

“He yelled at you for saying I was pretty?”

“Well… It wasn’t really yelling. Just angry whispering. And...” Peter turns bashful. “I said you were beautiful.”

A small smile cracks MJ’s expression, and she looks back down at their now intertwined hands. “Gross.”

“I know.” He cups her cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin there as he stares deeply into her eyes. He leans in, placing a loving, lingering kiss against her lips. As he pulls away, they both sigh. “Just so you know…” He starts, voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes gaze adoringly into his; she’s not even trying to hide how mushy she feels at this moment.

“You’re always the star of my spank bank.”

“Wait, What?”

[pastelwitchling]

This prompt is courtesy of Anonymous.

you deserve all the compliments! prompt: how about physically hurt alex? kyle is cursing the airman for putting himself in danger while doctoring him? "what were you thinking? I just got you back and you go on a alien mission ALONE? you should've fucking called me!"

***

               Alex tilted his head against the pillow, glancing every so often at Kyle who was working on bandaging him up with an intense focus. He felt Kyle’s warm fingers graze his stomach, his hand pressed lightly against Alex’s chest as he laid him down, his arm behind Alex’s neck, helping to keep his head up as he applied ointment to the wound – and something about it all made him want to laugh.

               Instead, he sighed and leaned his head back on the pillow. “Say it.”

               “Say what?” Kyle asked, though his expression was no less tense, his shoulders no less straight, his muscles no less flexed.

               “Whatever you want,” Alex said, covering his eyes with his forearm, trying to ignore the sting in his side. “I’m listening.”

               There was a moment of silence, then, “Okay,” Kyle said, his voice strained. Alex took a deep breath, bracing himself, then—

               “What the hell were you thinking? I thought we were supposed to be partners! How could you jump into this without telling me?!” Kyle raged on, his voice rising with every word.

               Alex lowered his arm after a moment to find Kyle glaring at him. “That it?”

               “Give me a minute,” he said darkly, returning to check on Alex’s bandages. Alex scoffed, and Kyle looked up. “You think this is funny?” Alex said nothing, and Kyle stood. “You think this is funny.”

               “No, no, I just—” Alex huffed a chuckle, and immediately winced. He breathed heavily, stretching out slowly. “I’m sorry, I just – I’ve never seen you so worried about me.”

               “And that’s funny to you?”

               Alex burst out into breathy fits of giggles. “Apparently – ow, ow, ow.”

               “Serves you right,” Kyle muttered, but he fixed another pillow under Alex’s head.

               “You wanted a hospital,” Alex said, wincing, “I’m here.”

               “You shouldn’t have had to come here at all,” Kyle said.

               “Kyle, stop,” Alex said, moving his hand away. “I’m fine.”

               Kyle stepped back, his fists tight at his side as if he was barely keeping himself from touching Alex again. Alex wondered when he would change into his doctor’s coat. After having seen Alex’s state, he had driven him to the hospital and put him in a bed without ever changing. The airman wondered if that was even allowed.

               “I hate this,” Kyle said, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly. “I hate that you went without me.”

               “You hate that I’m the only one injured?”

               “Yes,” he snapped. “God, Alex, you still don’t get it.” He came to tower over Alex, his hands on the bed. Alex didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous, his heart racing. Maybe it was a reaction to the medication.

               “You could’ve died, do you understand that?”

               “It’s been days,” Alex noted. “Have you slept at all?”

               “Are you even listening to me?”

               “Kyle, I’m fine,” he sighed. “Better I end up in here than the both of us. At least no one found out you were in on Project Shepherd, too.”

               “So that’s your brilliant conclusion? That everything’s okay because you would’ve been the only one who died?”

               “I didn’t die.”

               “You could have, Alex, and you don’t even care!”

               “Kyle, I’m military, remember?”

               “Why are you so calm about this?!”

               “You’re the doctor, shouldn’t you be the calm one right now?”

               “I almost lost you!” Kyle snapped, and Alex turned to look at him with furrowed brows. “You’re – you’re my…” He sighed, and slumped down in the chair next to Alex’s bed. “I almost lost you, Alex.”

               Alex stared for a moment, then looked to the ceiling. “You didn’t. I’m fine.”

               “Alex,” Kyle started, and Alex had the feeling there was something he really wanted to say, but after a pause, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

               “What?”

               “Nothing,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “You wouldn’t listen away.”

               Alex considered this, then, “I’m sorry I laughed.”

               Kyle brought his hand down, watching Alex. Alex ignored the goosebumps forming along his arms at the doctor’s eyes on him. Should he mention it to Kyle? Maybe there was some kind of pill he could take.

               “I just don’t get it, Alex. I know how you think, and this didn’t make any sense.”

               “You know how I think,” Alex repeated under his breath. He didn’t know if he liked or hated having Kyle in his head.

               “I know you like to do things alone, but that was always about wanting to protect everyone,” Kyle crossed his arms, “but lately, it’s like you’ve been trying to get yourself killed.”

               “And that’s a bad thing?”

               A pause, then, “Is this about Guerin?” Alex tried not to wince. “You don’t have anything to prove to him, Alex.”

               “I know,” Alex said.

               “Do you? Because you used to be smarter than this. You used to actually care about—”

               “Well, maybe I cared too much!” Alex snapped, and Kyle blinked, falling silent. “My entire life, that’s all I’ve done, is care. I cared what my dad thought of me, I cared what my brothers said, I cared about Maria and Liz, I cared about Michael, and now they’re all gone! Everyone is – ah—”

               Alex winced loudly, his hand over his side. Kyle was beside him in an instant, guiding him back down, his hand over Alex’s. “Everyone’s gone,” Alex breathed as Kyle helped him settle in.

               “I’m not gone,” Kyle said, and Alex blinked.

               “What?”

               Kyle sat back down in his chair, and leaned forward. “I’m not gone, Alex. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Isn’t one person, someone who you know – someone who cares about you… isn’t that enough?”

               Alex clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to care anymore. If you’re all I have, then—”

               “Then we care about each other,” Kyle finished. “Then we fight together.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That’s how we work, Manes.”

               Alex’s brows furrowed. There it was again. Manes. Alex had never heard his family name said with anything but disdain, and yet Kyle always said it as if it was something precious, something valued, something he loved. Even after Jesse had killed Jim Valenti, Kyle still protected Alex, still looked after him, and he was still willing to walk into danger with him.

               “Why?” Alex whispered. “You know what my dad’s done.”

               “Alex,” Kyle breathed, the look on his face genuinely confused as he shook his head. “What does any of that have to do with you?”

               Anything else Alex was going to say disappeared, his thoughts turned quiet. He still remembered Michael’s face, the way his eyes had followed Alex as if wary of him, the way he’d looked at Alex like the airman had been personally responsible for every miserable thing that had ever happened in his life, and all this time, Alex had thought Michael was right for treating him like the same criminal his father was. But now, at Kyle’s question, he found his mind a blank. What does it have to do with you?

               Alex didn’t know.

               “I’m sorry I got mad at you for laughing,” Kyle said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

               Alex shook his head, the corner of his lips rising in a half-smile. “I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

               “No, you shouldn’t have,” Kyle said, and they both chuckled tiredly.

               “I think the medication’s getting to my head,” Alex said, rubbing his face.

               “You should get some rest.”

               “So should you.”

               Kyle pressed his lips together and looked to the clock on the wall. It was past midnight. Then he looked back at Alex, and said, “Later.”

               “What, are you planning on watching me sleep?”

               Kyle crossed his legs, seemingly trying to get comfortable. “Part of the curse, I guess.”

               “What curse?”

               “Caring,” he said.

               Alex watched as Kyle took his own jacket off and blanketed himself with it. As he adjusted his position, Alex felt his heart hammering again, and he found that he couldn’t think of Liz, or Maria, or even Michael – but of Kyle.

               He put a hand over his heart, his fingers digging into his chest, and turned his face away to hide the blush that had spread to his cheeks. “Yeah,” he said, barely over a whisper. “I guess it is.”

***

I did say I had a few fics left before my hiatus!

Thank you so much for this prompt, I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading! 💞

[ssa-montgomery]

Pretty Boy Like You Chapter 1

Word Count for this chapter: 2776

Story Summary:  Alec Lightwood is fresh out of college and working for his mother at her law firm. With Alec shouldering the responsibility of the family business Jace and Izzy are free to work where ever they want leading them to Pandemonium, the best strip club in the city. Izzy works the bar, Jace works security and Alec can’t work his head around the appeal of strip clubs. Magnus Bane can’t work his head around the appeal of the cocky guys who act like their better than everyone else in his club. Alec is sure he could never fall for a stripper and Magnus is determined not to fall for a rich city boy.

Characters in this chapter: Magnus Bane x Alec Lightwood, Izzy Lightwood x Clary Fray (Mentioned), Jace Herondale x Simon Lewis (Mentioned), Maia Roberts, Ragnor Fell, Catarina Loss, Raphael Santiago, Dot Rollins, Maryse Lightwood (Mentioned), Jordan Kyle (Mentioned)

Warnings: Swearing, smut, strippers/strip clubs, lap dances, pole dancing, future smut, sort of enemy to lovers, mature-rated so if you’re not comfortable with that stuff probably best to avoid this one :D

A/N:   Hey everyone! Welcome to my new fic :D This is my first ever mature-rated fic so I really hope you enjoy it. This story will contain smut at some point so just keep that in mind! With school back again my updates on my fics might be a bit slower than usual but I will try to update whenever possible. The end of this chapter is really just a funny dialog section and I promise we will get into the action next chapter. Thank you for reading!

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

“Hey, Alec.” Isabelle leaned around the door to the study, her nails gently tapping on the wood. Alec was seated at the desk, his laptop open in front of him. He had his mouth pressed into the palm of his hand as he read over the work on the screen. “You busy?”

“No,” Alec said shaking himself out of a trance. He could almost still see the letters floating in front of his eyes when he looked away from the screen. He closed his laptop over and slid it to the other side of the desk. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate to ask this but mom’s busy, could you drop me off at my interview?” Izzy asked. Her expression was hopeful as she waiting for Alec’s answer.

“Yeah alright fine.” Alec agreed. He knew Izzy had been waiting for an interview for a while now, it was important to her and he wasn’t going to say no when it came to something like that. She had only just turned 21 and was trying to find her first bartending job. With Alec following into the family law firm Maryse didn’t mind what her other children worked at. Jace had been working security at a strip club in the city for almost a year now.

“Thank you so much, Alec. I think Jace needs a lift too.” She said running her hand over the back of her neck before ducking out of the room again.

“Tell Jace he can walk! It’s not his interview.” Alec shouted after her.

Alec pushed his chair away from the desk and reached his arms up towards the ceiling, feeling his back crack when he stretched out. He had been hunched over the desk for hours now working away on a file for his mother. To be honest, he was glad to get out of the house and away from the work, even if it was just to drop Izzy and Jace off at work. He loved what he did, he had studied for it, but the seemingly endless paperwork was still overwhelming at times.

Alec stood up and pushed his chair back under the desk, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of it as he did. He slipped it on and made his way out of the room and down the stairs to the main hall. Alec’s family had always been well off when it came to money, even after his parents separated a few months ago, and the large house in the city that they lived in reflected it. Alec had grown up getting everything he asked for and he knew his friends were always shocked when they saw his house for the first time but it was what he was used to and he didn’t even notice anymore.

Alec grabbed his car keys off the table next to the front door and walked outside. It was later in the day and the cold night air was starting to set in, adding a bite to the wind. The beautiful reds and oranges of the sunset were visible between the buildings of the city. Izzy and Jace were already standing next to Alec’s car waiting for him.

“I thought I said you were walking Jace.” Alec laughed.

“And why would I do that when I have such a wonderful brother who is willing to give me a lift?”

Alec rolled his eyes at Jace and unlocked the car doors. Isabelle slid into the front seat and Jace climbed into the seat behind, messing up her hair as revenge for her taking his usual seat. Izzy huffed and pulled down the mirror to smooth her hair back into place.

“So, where exactly am I bringing you, Izzy?” Alec asked, the engine roaring to life when he twisted the keys.

                                                    ~~~

The car came to a stop on the curb out the side the club Izzy and Jace had directed Alec to. The outside seemed like any other club in the city to Alec, the walls were darkly coloured and had no windows in them. A muscular bouncer stood outside the closed doors keeping an eye on the small crowd that had already started to form outside despite the club not opening for another hour. The word “Pandemonium” was written across the wall in neon purple lights.

“Seriously Iz? You couldn’t find a better bartender gig that wasn’t at the strip club Jace works at?” Alec questioned turning to look at her.

Izzy shrugged. “It’s one of the best in town, and plus it pays really well. Clary told me about the job, she knows the owner.”

Alec turned the keys killing the engine before stepping out of the car onto the footpath, Izzy and Jace following him. Jace walked over to talk to the man standing at the doors, it was clear they knew each other. Alec looked over at the group that was already lined up against the wall. They were about the same age as him and the majority of the group were girls. They were dressed similar to Izzy, short dresses and skirts paired with high heel boots. Alec couldn’t imagine himself willingly going to a strip club just to spend a load of money standing around watching someone on stage. It wasn’t his thing. Jace gestured him and Izzy over when the bouncer opened the doors for them.

Inside the club was dimly lit, the lights that hung down from the ceiling were the same neon purple as the sign outside. The only proper lighting came from the lights that surrounded the stage in the middle of the club. The stage looked likea T-shaped runway that had poles scattered along the front of it. Already the club was filled with music, the bass of the song practically shook the floor and Alec could feel it through his boots. He let out a groand when he finally placed the song.

“Talk Dirty? Really? Classy.” He said sarcastically.

“You said it yourself Alec, it’s a strip club,” Isabelle sighed elbowing her brother in the ribs. “And it’s a decent song!”

They walked towards the back of the club where the bar was situated. There was a girl no older Izzy standing behind the bar shining a row of cocktail glasses that had been layed out on the surface of the bar. Her short hair curled around her face and a pair of large silver hoop earrings seemed to glow purple with the lights. She was dressed casually, a denim jacket thrown over a black t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Four parallel scars that looked like claw marks ran across her neck towards her collarbone.  

“I was attacked by a dog when I was nineteen.” She said noticing Alec staring at the scars.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.” Alec apologized.

“It’s alright, I’m Maia Roberts. You must be Isabelle Lightwood?” She asked pointing at Izzy.

“That’s me.” Izzy nodded.

“Right, well I’ll show you the ropes now. If you feel like working after you can take you shift tonight or you can do tomorrow night.” Maia explained. “Magnus is quite flexible with work hours. Oh and Jace, Jordan’s in the back. He’s working with you tonight.”

“Okay.” Jace disappeared through a door to the right of the bar into what Alec presumed was the back of the club that was reserved for staff.

“I actually think I’d prefer tomorrow night if that’s alright,” Izzy said. “Alec, would you mind waiting until I’m done?”

“Okay,” Alec said reluctantly. He didn’t want to leave Izzy walking home at night in the cold and he could survive hanging around a closed strip club for half an hour.

Alec wandered away from the bar when Maia started to explain everything to Izzy. Despite there being plenty of comfortable looking booths Alec could have sat in all around the club he found himself standing against the wall next to the stage. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to scroll through his timeline to kill sometime. He was so lost in his phone he didn’t even notice the woman who walked past him heading for the door behind the stage.

                                                         ~~~

“Isabelle Lightwood just arrived for her interview.” Dot announced glancing down at her phone where it sat on the table next to her. The screen was lit up with a text from Maia.

“Jace’s sister right?” Ragnor asked dragging one of the chairs from the dressing tables across the carpeted floor to where Dot had perched with her legs tucked up underneath her on a table next to Magnus who was still focused on his makeup.

Everyone else was already finished, having done most of the work at home before they arrived now only needing a touch up before the club actually opened. Magnus, on the other hand, had decided he wasn’t happy with his when he got to the club and had taken it all off. He was now doing his makeup for a second time.

“Yeah, she’s working bar with Maia.” Dot nodded.

The conversation was cut off when the door to the dressing room was flung open hitting off the wall with a bang and Catarina waltzed inside. Magnus jumped at the noise, making his hand slip dragging a thick black line of eyeliner down across his cheek.

“Really Catarina?” He snapped grabbing a wipe to once again remove his eye makeup and start over.

“Did you guys see the Lightwood outside?” She asked completely ignoring Magnus’s comment.

“We were just talking about Isabelle before you barged in,” Magnus said waving the wipe at Catarina’s reflection in the mirror as he routed through his bag looking for the right eyeshadow shade.

“No, no not Isabelle. Oh, what’s his name? Alec is it?”

“Oh, the older brother,” Ragnor said leaning forward in his chair. Catarina had clearly caught his attention. They had always been ones for gossip for as long as Magnus had known them which was most of their lives. They were all over any interesting piece of information they could find. They knew something about everyone who came into the club.

“Well, he’s a total smoke show.” Catarina sighed throwing herself down into a chair, draping her legs over the arm of it.

“Seriously?” Dot asked unraveling her legs from underneath her before jumping down from where she had been sitting, a smirk spreading across her face. “Where is he?”

“He’s just outside standing off to the side of the stage.”

“I’m going to look.” Dot said making her way across the room towards the door.

Not even a second later Ragnor jumped to his feet hurrying after Dot. “I’m coming too!”

Magnus rolled his eyes at his friends watching them run out the door and down the narrow corridor together. Magnus had known them all for most of his life, they were his best friends and he loved them to pieces. They had always been there for him and had jumped at the opportunity to work with him when he opened the club. As much as he loved them, they still got on his nerves from time to time. Only a minute later they both fell back through the door.

“Oh. My. God.” Dot giggled shaking her head. “You weren’t wrong Cat.”

“He is hot.” Ragnor nodded reclaiming his chair next to Magnus.

“You not going to get a look, Raphael?” Catarina asked noticing Raphael who had been silently lying across the velvet couch in the corner of the room for the first time. Raphael was the quietest of the group generally just silently listening in on conversations and adding the occasional sarcastic comment. Despite that, he was one of Magnus’s best dancers. Though he might not act like it Magnus knew he cared, it wasn’t exactly like Raphael needed the money from the job. He ran a successful hotel in the center of the city that brought in a lot of money.

“I’m quite alright Catarina, boys aren’t my thing,” Raphael shrugged.

“What about Izzy? You going to find her before the club opens?” Dot said her tone suggestive as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Girls aren’t my thing either.”

“And Magnus? I’m surprised you didn’t go, he seems just your type. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes.” Catarina said bringing her foot up to poke Magnus in the back. Catarina was Magnus’s oldest friend out of the group. He had met her the first time he came to New York and she helped him settle in.

Magnus scoffed.

“Some rich city boy who probably works at a law firm is not my type. I’m sure he already has a pretty girlfriend that he’s buying a white picket fence house with and choosing baby names.” Magnus waved a hand dismissively.

Magnus was used to Alec’s type in the club. Young men who walk around like they own the place and can do what they want just because they have more money than everyone else there. He couldn’t stand their stuck up attitudes. Magnus already had to deal with Jace’s cocky attitude on a near-daily basis and he certainly wasn’t going to go drool over another Lightwood.

“To be fair, I’m almost 100% percent sure he does actually work for his mother’s law firm.” Dot admitted.

“Talk about hot people, Maryse has got be to like what 40? And boy Mama Lightwood has still got it.” Ragnor said staring off at the far wall presumably thinking about Maryse.

“Trueblood,” Raphael added.

“What?” Ragnor questioned turning to look at him

“It’s Maryse Trueblood now. She got divorced.” Raphael said casually opening the buttons on the cuffs of the black silk button-up shirt. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Wait so she’s like … single now?”

“Ragnor.” Magnus glared at his friend, a disapproving look on his face. There was only so much he could deal with and his friends were starting to push his limits.

“I didn’t say anything. I simply asked a question.”

“I wonder if Alec is single,” Catarina sighed.

“Honestly Catarina, you work in a strip club. You are surrounded by half-naked men every day, what is so impressive about a fully dressed Alec Lightwood?” Magnus demanded.

“Okay but consider this.” Catarina pointed at Magnus’s reflection in the mirror. “Alec is actually hot.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. No offense taken Cat.” Raphael huffed rolling his eyes.

“Literally sitting right here.” Ragnor threw his hands up into the air.

“Oh, that’s funny Catarina.” Magnus laughed spinning around in his chair so he was facing her. “We both know I’m hotter than any Lightwood.”

“You just have a big ego.” Catarina teased sticking her tongue out at Magnus.

“I don’t know what’s in that families genes but.” Dot let out a whistle and leaned back against the table. Her arms folded over her chest.

“You don’t know what’s in their DNA genes but you want to get into their actual jeans?” Catarina snorted.

“I mean is it even genes because Jace is like, a god and he’s adopted.” Ragnor pointed out.

“His boyfriend certainly agrees.”

“Maybe it’s just like an aura they give off.”

“Okay, I’ve had it with you lot.”  Magnus sighed throwing his eyeliner pencil down onto the table with a shake of his head. “I can’t sit here for another minute listening to you drool over the Lightwoods. I’m going to warm up.”

“Alright, keep your eyes peeled for Alec! He’s to the left of the stage.”

Magnus didn’t even bother turning around, he simply twisted his arm behind his back and flipped his middle finger at Catarina as he walked out of the room. He could still hear their gossiping halfway down the long hallway that lead to the main club. Magnus usually wasn’t one to shy away from a conversation about an attractive person one of them had spotted at the club that night but something about this rich city boy made him groan. He just wasn’t interested.  Jace worked for him and he’d seen Izzy around the club even before her interview tonight and sure, they were attractive but they weren’t Magnus’s type. He was sure Alec would be no different.

Magnus emerged into the club and instantly felt move relaxed. Magnus was most comfortable when he was dancing, whether it was at the club or just dancing around his sitting room with Dot. Magnus couldn’t help himself, his curiosity getting the better of him as he climbed up onto the stage. He snuck a sidewards glanced to where Catarina had told him Alec would be standing.

Oh fuck.

Catarina was never going to let him live this down.

Taglist: @thewaywardimpala

[stuckydealer-blog]

Final Surrender | 2

Pairing: Wintershieldshock, Steve x Darcy x Bucky

Word Count:  2,244 (Yeah, these are short. They’ll get longer eventually)

Genre & Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, eventual smut, jealousy, insecurity, polyamory negotiations.

Everything was turned off save for a single light in the hallway

Darcy tiptoed into her own apartment, trying her best to keep the noise down. She knew that with Steve’s abilities the chances of her not being heard were slim, but she wanted to try anyway. She slowly took off her shoes and jacket, laying them across the entry table instead of trying to open the hallway closet without noise. Then she flopped ungracefully onto the sofa, staring into the blank television screen. 

She’d stayed in the labs as long as she could get away with it today. Even as everyone else had left, she’d managed to stay hours past even Jane, sitting in her little office organizing notes that didn’t have to be finished anytime soon. She’d only reluctantly left once she’d started yawning more than once and realized she didn’t relish the idea of having to explain to anyone what she was doing sleeping in her office. 

Now she was here, in an apartment that she wasn’t sure she was welcome in anymore. At least it sounded like the snoring was coming from two separate bedrooms, so she supposed she could be grateful for small blessings. 

Darcy quietly sighed and ruffled her hair a bit, frustrated with herself. She was Darcy Fucking Lewis. She was a badass! Why was she letting herself get upset over something that hadn’t even happened yet? 

She decided her pity party was over for the night, so she headed to the shower to wash the lab away before climbing in her bed. Steve’s snoring quieted slightly as he rolled over and pulled her towards him in his sleep. Darcy finally let her mind quiet enough to revel in his familiar warmth as she drifted off. 

Darcy woke when the bed dipped next to her, and a hand began lightly playing with her hair. She groaned quietly and leaned into the touch, cracking her eyes open a little to see a chuckling Steve. 

“Morning, beautiful,” he said with a grin, leaning down to peck her forehead. He smelled nice, probably having just had a shower after his run. 

“Mmm, morning.” 

“You got in late. I was worried.”

Oh. That’s right. There were things happening. She was supposed to be upset.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, just...lots of stuff to catch up on.” 

Steve studied her face, and his frown deepened. 

“Are you sure that’s all? Sweetheart, if something is the matter, you know you can talk to me.” 

Darcy snorted before she could stop herself and tried to cover it up with a yawn, but he didn’t buy it. 

“What does that mean?” 

“Doesn’t mean anything, Steve. I just woke up, and I haven’t had coffee yet. Obviously, I’m delirious. I’m gonna go shower.” 

Darcy pressed a quick kiss onto Steves still frowning lips before running straight to the bathroom, locking it for good measure. She hadn’t locked the door in ages, and she knows he probably heard it click and was freaking out about that now too. But at least hidden in her fortress of cleanliness, she could breathe. 

She rushed through her shower, wanting to hurry up and get ready so she’d be out the door faster. When she was done, she peered out into the bedroom, thankfully finding it empty, and dressed as quickly as she could. She skipped makeup entirely and threw her hair into a ponytail. Now all she had to do was chug down some coffee, and she could go back to hiding in the labs. 

“Smells good in here. Were you actually cooking?” She grinned at Steve as he was just rounding the hallway to meet with her. He laughed and laced his fingers with hers as he escorted her to the dining room. 

“No. That’s all Buck. He’s making flapjacks.” 

Oh, he certainly was. He was making “flapjacks” shirtless, his black sweats riding low on his sculpted hips. He merely nodded at her when they made eye contact. He scooped the last pancake onto a plate he was holding and handed it to Steve, wrapping his arm around his back like he was helping him balance. 

Darcy watched in silence as they set things on the table and took their seats. Or should she say Bucky took her seat, directly to Steve’s left, leaving her the seat that was right in front of them, like she was the third wheel. 

Did they really have to be so obvious? 

“Cool. Well, I’m just going to finish my coffee, and then I gotta head out. Science waits for no one.” 

Steve was practically pouting now, his beautiful eyes wide and pleading.

“Darce, just have a few, please? I haven’t seen much of you in days, and I miss you.” 

She sighed. “Fine. Since you brought out the puppy dog eyes, which is totally cheating by the way, I will stay for breakfast. I missed you too, babe.” 

She smirked when Barne’s fingers around his fork turned white as he glared at her from under his lashes. 

The breakfast was one of the most awkward things she’d been through, and she’s gone through a lot! It was a constant battle between Darcy and Bucky over who could get the most attention from Steve. Bucky had played very unfairly a few times, smirking darkly as he literally fed Steve right off his own fork and scooting close enough that their shoulders touched. Darcy was amazed how oblivious Steve was to the tension around him as he went from story to story, telling Bucky a funny one about Darcy, or telling Darcy one about Bucky. 

Then again, if he was trying this hard, maybe he wasn’t so much oblivious as desperate. But desperate for what? For them to get along? To try and make Darcy like Bucky so when Steve breaks up with her she’ll totally understand? Why was Steve not telling her anything? Why was he dragging this out? 

She fought off the tears that were threatening to take over, her throat so thick with emotion it was becoming hard to swallow. She needed to make her escape quick. 

Darcy threw her fork down on the plate and got up, aware of both pairs of eyes watching her as she placed it in the sink and chugged down the last of her coffee. 

“Alright, this was a blast and all, but I gotta get going. Jane’s probably well on her way to turning the tower into a crater by now.” 

She stopped next to Steve’s chair, leaning down to capture his lips and slide a hand into his hair. She kissed him deeply, sliding her tongue across the seam of his lips until he opened for her with a ragged moan. She nipped his bottom lip a couple times, feeling smug as she took in Steve’s dilated eyes and swollen lips. 

“I love you,” she whispered, rubbing his nose with hers for a second before leaning away. 

“I love you too. Have a good day,” he responded dreamily, beaming up at her as she stood up straight and adjusted her jacket. 

She didn’t even bother looking at Barnes on her way out, not wanting him to take that moment from her. 

“So, did you talk to him?”

Darcy would never admit that she had just jumped a little, but she’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she’d been unprepared. She’d been in the lab with Jane for four hours now, and besides that muttering of the scientist talking to herself, it had been silent the whole time, allowing her to mope by herself. 

“Sure. Course I did,” 

Jane looked up from her tablet, giving Darcy a look that she quickly interrupted as ‘You know what I mean.’

“Did you talk with him about your suspicions.”

“Oh, that. Nope. We just had a lovely breakfast that Barnes cooked shirtless, took my seat so I had to sit in front of them like I was in an interview, and was so close to Steve they were practically cuddling.” 

Jane observes Darcy thoughtfully for a moment. 

“You know, I have to say that this doesn’t sound like you. You usually meet things face on. I’d have expected you to sit them down for a chat already, find out what's going on and come up with a super detailed ten-year plan that you made into a powerpoint slideshow.” 

“I know. But Janie, I’m scared. All my life I’ve been good about treating everyone nicely but only letting a select few into the Darcy bubble. When you grow up in foster care, that’s something you learn to be good at. You learn to adapt easily, you never grow too attached, you stay ready for anything. I broke the rules already with you, but I’m not worried about you. I know you’ll stick around. But I let him in too much. He’s...fuck Janie...he’s so deep in the bubble it will probably burst if he wants to leave me.” 

Jane was stroking her arm comfortingly, but the quirked eyebrow was easy to read. 

“Don’t laugh at the Darcy bubble. It’s a good example,” Darcy huffed but leaned her head on Jane’s shoulder. 

“Not laughing. Sorry.” 

Darcy sighed and closed her eyes, soaking in the comfort from her friend. 

“I just...I love him. I let myself think of the future with him. I pictured a white dress and monogrammed towels. That’s the biggest no-no I learned growing up. Never make plans. But I did for him. Granted, I never planned on his best friend that is totally not just his best friend coming back from the fucking dead.” 

Jane plays with Darcy’s hair comfortingly. “That would be hard for anyone to plan for, to be fair. Sweetie, you can’t just keep avoiding him though. It’s going to keep making you miserable. You’re Darcy Lewis! You tased Thor! You can handle having a chat with your boyfriend.”

Darcy chuckled. “You’d think so, right? I know. I’ll do it. I just kinda hoped he’d come to me. With him just moving Bucky in and barely telling me anything, it’s like he’s purposely hiding it with no intention of me ever knowing. I think that might be what’s hurting the most. I thought he knew he could trust me. If he had come to me and been like, “Heya, Darce. So my best friend is alive and back in the 40′s best friend actually meant guy you went steady with in secret,” I’d have been more understanding. I would still have been jealous, but I’d be willing to figure out a solution for everyone. But the way it is now, it’s like I’m purposely being pushed out.” 

“I’m sure that’s not what’s going on, babe. Steve loves you, you know that. He’s probably just as confused as you are. Why don’t you take a lunch. Go back to your place and pull him into your room for a talk. It’s better to just get it done and over with like a band-aid. If worse comes to worse, you’re welcome to stay with Thor and me.” 

Darcy sighs and glances towards the door. Jane was right. She should just get this over with. It probably wasn’t even that big of a deal. 

“Yeah, I should. Okay. Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me whine and moan like a bitch to you.” 

“Just paying back my debt. I’ve whined enough in your ears. Go get your man.” 

Darcy straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath to calm herself. 

She could totally do this. She’s dealt with shit loads of stuff in the past few years. Asking her boyfriend a few questions should be a walk in the park compared to London. 

She punched in the door code and swung it open, promptly freezing the moment her eyes landed on the couch that faced the door. 

Steve was in Barnes’ lap, sloppily making out, their moans loud and filled with desire. Barnes had his hands gripping onto Steve’s hips tightly, rocking their hips together desperately as Steve gripped onto the other’s hair. 

Darcy made a garbled sound that was something she’d never heard herself make before. A wrecked sob that was pulled straight from her chest. 

Steve’s head shot around at the noise, his eyes wide with shock and panic. 

“Baby. Darcy, I’m...please. I can explain,” Steve stumbled off of Barnes, stalked towards Darcy with his arms stretched towards her. 

She backed away, trying to reach the door. Darcy chanced a look at Barnes, amazed to find that he looked more guilty than victorious. 

But it didn’t matter. He’d won without her getting a chance to fight. 

Darcy turned to flee, tugging her hand away as Steve grabbed it. 

“Darcy, stop. Please! I love you, come back!” 

Darcy kept running.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, elricsister!

Today, we wish a slightly belated Happy Birthday to @elricsister! We hope you had a wonderful day on the 17th, and got all the presents on your wish-list. To bring the party back, @ally147writes has written a story just for you!

Happy birthday, @elricsister! Apologies again for the delay on your gift. I’ve never written an in-Panem AU, ‘this-would-have-happened-anyway’ fic before, so I hope you (and everyone else!) enjoys it :) (Also I’m not sure if this is darkly humourous like you asked for, or just hella sarcastic..) Unbeta’d - all errors are my own, and since I’m wrapping this up at 1.30am, there’s probably a few!

The rebellion was supposed to make things better.

 That’s what they’d promised them, anyway. The propos on the television spoke of a life free of oppression, full of opportunities and the ability to make your own choices and follow your dreams. A world where anything was possible, where you weren’t limited by the circumstances of your birth or the district in which you lived. Where there weren’t any games, no starvation, no injustice. Just equality and fairness for all.

 The idea makes Peeta laugh now. What a load of bullshit.

Six years since the overthrowing of the Snow regime, and Panem is no closer to the utopia they were promised. Peeta’s not sure he sees the difference between surviving a rebellion, and surviving an arena.

 It’s all just a different sort of a fight for survival as what few people remain in District 12 spend yet another night hunkered down in their tiny, tin-shack homes, and wait out yet another wave of violence and anxiety served up by vigilante rebels bent on revenge and retribution and unending scores of Capitol soldiers and sympathisers. Further across the district, a building is on fire. The old butcher’s building, maybe. It smells almost like bacon. Not that it matters; no one’s going to put it out, anyway.

 Tonight, it’s Peeta’s turn to take watch in the bakery, guarding the dwindling staple bakery supplies from desperate thieves, smug rebel soldiers, and the occasional Capitol refugee that somehow thinks the status quo remains the same.

 It’d be almost funny if it weren’t so heartbreaking. People who were once their friends, their customers, have turned into rabid mutts that would just as soon kill Peeta for a scoop of flour or a dash of sugar as they would praise him for baking up the goods himself.

 They thought they were starving before. Turns out none of them had any clue what starvation was really like.

 Peeta grips his small paring knife, the one they used to use to cut strawberries — what the hell’s he meant to do with this stupid thing now, anyway? — and presses himself as close as he can to the floor. Another band of scavengers, armed with blunt weapons and brute desperation, approach from the top of the street. He can hear them tip over bins and smash through windows, primal screams and wretched groans; Peeta can’t even recall silence anymore. What they hope to find, Peeta has no idea. Other scavengers — or maybe the same ones; who knows? — attacked the same place the night before. And the night before that, and the night before that.

 Another, lighter set of footsteps crunches in from the other end of the street. Peeta squeezes his eyes shut and listens; they’re alone, he thinks, but weighed down by something. A heavy thump follows their every move. Peeta tenses, his hand cramping as he grips the knife hilt even tighter.

 The shadow of the lone stranger peeks into his vision. Small, slim — too slim — bundled up in a leather jacket, with a tattered bag hanging heavily at their side. Familiar. Horrifyingly, heart-wrenchingly familiar.

 The hinges on the front door are, though he can’t even begin to explain how, silent. He draws in a deep breath and holds it there as he pulls the door open, inch by terrifying inch.

 The footsteps slow as the girl — God, he hopes he’s right — nears the bakery. He wonders if she remembers stopping with her sister to look at the cakes in the windows — back when there were windows, at least.

 She inches closer to the door as the noise from the scavengers up the street reaches a fever pitch. They’ll be coming in soon, and what will they do with such a small, slight girl, with a bag full of game?

 Dull olive skin and an inky-black braid shine in the moonlight, and he’s certain.

 She crosses close to the threshold of the door, and Peeta takes his moment.

 He lunges out and seizes Katniss Everdeen around the waist, and tugs her through the door.

 “What the fu —”

 He presses his hand over her lips and meets her eyes with his, begging her to understand. Her heart thumps like a hummingbird’s wing, matching his heart beat for beat. Her body is tense against his even as it trembles, hands reaching up to dig blunt nails and blunter fingertips into his forearm, but he refuses to budge. It’s a long, desperate moment before her eyes go wide as she recognises him, and she nods once. Peeta slowly peels his hand away from her lips, grateful when they do little more than scowl at him, but keeps the other hand around her waist as he guides her down to the floor.

 “Stay down,” he whispers to her as he pulls her tighter against his side. She snorts, but presses herself against the hard floor.

 The scavengers give up and move on to disappear beyond the fence. It’s a wonder they even bother. Peeta’s not sure there’s anything left to hunt out there. Animals are smart; they’ve probably delved even deeper within the forest. Deeper than most would be willing to go, anyway.

 With the exception, maybe, of the girl pressed against him.

 He picks himself up off the ground and offers a hand to help her do the same. She is thorough in ignoring it, and his hand falls limply back to his side.

 “Are you okay?” he asks her when he’s sure they’re alone.

 “How dare you,” she growls at him. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

 He almost laughs. They’ve barely exchanged five words over the course of their lives; how could he have expected this situation to go any other way?

 “I know you can,” he says, slowly, like he’s talking down a rabid animal. “But, Katniss, what the hell were you thinking, walking around out there like that?”

 “I know what I’m doing out there,” she declares. “I’ve been doing it long before District 12 became the eighty-first arena.”

 “That’s not what I meant,” he snaps, a little louder than he should have. “What the hell were you thinking walking around late at night with that bag, Katniss? God, what if I hadn’t been watching? You could have gotten yourself killed!”

 She rolls her eyes, and his stomach sinks at the idea of her playing so fast and loose with her own life. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

 “Yes, you would have.” He pulls at his hair, lank and greasy and far too long. “You know what they’re like, Katniss! It’s been six years since any of us had a regular meal. They wouldn’t have thought twice about killing you if it meant they could have whatever’s in that bag.”

 She stares at him for a long, unbroken moment, but doesn’t say a word.

 “I need to get back,” she mutters. “Prim’s probably worried sick.” She tugs up her bag and hikes it over her shoulder. “And may the odds,” she adds mockingly, “be ever in my favour.”

 She’s almost out the door before he wraps a hand around her wrist. “You can’t go anywhere now,” he says. He rubs at his eyes. God, he feels so incredibly tired. He doesn’t think he’s slept more than three or four hours a night since this all started. “You’ve got no idea what’s out there right now. At least wait until daybreak.”

 “I’ll take my chances,” she seethes.

 “Please, Katniss.” He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist. “Please just stay here ‘til morning.”

 He can almost see the fight draining from her, a slow, bittersweet process. “But what about Prim?” she whispers.

 “But what about you, Katniss? Don’t you deserve to be safe just as much as she does? Besides, didn’t Prim toast with Rory Hawthorne a few months ago?”

 She doesn’t say anything; her jaw stays stubbornly set.

 “Please just stay the night, Katniss. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, and I’m certain Rory will do the same for Prim. Everything will be all right.”

 “I don’t need your help, Peeta,” she whispers.

 He grins at her. He’s never heard a lovelier sound than his name on her lips. “Maybe I need your help, Everdeen.”

 She sighs, but slides her bag off her shoulder. It lands with a thump on the floor, and she follows it down.

 Peeta sits beside her, careful to leave a foot-wide gap between them. He picks up the small paring knife again and turns it over in his hands. Aside from the dull crackling of the fire across the district, there’s no other sound or person now to quell the silence of the dying district.

 Neither of them sleep that night. Peeta’s never been more aware of another person in all his life.

 Katniss clears her throat as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. “Peeta?” she whispers.

 He glances over at her, studies her profile in the quiet darkness. He’s made a career out of studying Katniss Everdeen, but he’s never seen her like this, with her sharp cheekbones stark and hollow in the low light. Beautiful and terrifying all at once. “Yeah?”

 “Can I ask you a question?”

 He can’t imagine what she could possibly want to know from him. “Uh, sure, I guess.”

 “How long have you been in love with me?”

 He chokes on his next breath of air. “What?” he splutters.

 Katniss sighs again. “Everyone likes to think I’m this stupid, oblivious girl who doesn’t notice anything happening around her. But I see a lot more than people think.” She turns and looks at him, her wide eyes the same colour as a storm cloud. “I see you, Peeta. I always have.”

 He furrows his brow, tries not to let the rising hope get the best of him. “What are you trying to say, Katniss?”

 She shakes her head. “You haven’t answered the question.”

 He sighs, leans his head back against the crumbling wall. Is he dreaming? He must be… “Since I was five. Almost all my life. I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you.”

 He wonders if perhaps he’s divulged too much, but she nods, like it’s no big shock.

 “Since I was fifteen.”

 “Excuse me?” Because there’s no way she’s admitting to what he thinks she’s admitting.

 Even in the low light, he can see the bright blush that takes over her features. Somewhere in the distance, a mockingjay sings.

 “I might have noticed before, when you gave me the bread. I ignored it then, but I think I noticed it properly when I was fifteen.”

 “Noticed what?” he whispers. He wants to crawl closer, take her hand in his, but he can’t, not yet.

 “Noticed you.” She stands abruptly, takes her bag and hefts the strap over her shoulder. “It’s getting light out,” she says, a little too quickly. “I need to go home.”

 He scrambles back to his feet. She can’t leave him now. Not after she’s told him that. “I’ll walk you.”

 She glances around the derelict shack the bakery has become. “But what about here?”

 He shakes his head. “My father and brother are upstairs. They’ll come down soon. It’ll be fine.”

 She shrugs like it makes no difference to her, but there’s an indefinable spark in her eyes that tells him it makes all the difference in the world.

 “All right, then.”

 He follows her onto the street and out of what’s left of the town. There’s no difference now between the roads in the town and the roads in the Seam. They’re all filthy, all covered with the same fine layer of coal dust, ash, and broken glass.

 The sun peeks out higher as they approach the Seam, long shadows behind them their only company. In the light of day, the district looks like a warzone, but after last night and earlier that morning, he decides to seize onto what little bits of beauty he can still find and hold onto them with all his might.

 Starting with the radiant, brave, incredible woman walking beside him.

 “Katniss?” he asks.

 She hums. “Yeah?”

 “Do you think this would have happened… you would have said anything, before?” he asks, even though he’s never been more afraid of an answer to a question in all his life. “You know… before all this?”

 He listens to her sigh, and her hand brushes against his. “I don’t know, Peeta. But it’s happening now. Maybe it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but isn’t that enough?”

 He takes her hand then and smiles down at her. “Yeah. I think it might be.”

[fleetingfan77]

The Flaw in Every Crystal Chapter 4

'Welcome to Praxus' Part 4

aka The Great Escape, Plan A

aka My work schedule finally lightened up a bit

Gotta admire Jazz’s spirit and resourcefulness, even if it did result in him blowing himself up...multiple times..

You can really feel how desperate Jazz is here to just get out of the room and away from the house even if he doesn’t have a real plan and already knows what will happen if he tries to leave the city. 

This is really kinda a no win for him. Praxus doesn’t seem to have a homeless population he could blend in with, his frame type is different enough to get him spotted immediately, and he doesn’t have a lot with him. Even trying to get someone to help him could just leave him in a worse position of being someone’s “pet” and being blackmailed with arrest and becoming property of Praxus.

So Prowl took a while to find out that the source of the smell of hurt mech and recent explosion was THAT ROOM, which makes me worry a bit about the real possibility that Jazz could have been forgotten in there. Not for long mind you, and Jazz wouldn’t have realized, but still. Kinda darkly funny to imagine Prowl about to go to sleep, then suddenly his eyes light up with an “oh shit!” expression as he goes to check on Jazz.

Poor Jazz completely lost track of time it seems while injured, and couldn’t have gotten the door open by himself. Its good there was nothing else flammable in there or he would have gotten out of Praxus in the most permanent way possible. And from how Prowl describes what he finds, Jazz did almost make that trip.

“Prowl, what happened to that mech you worked so hard to get as a mate?” “Oh, he exploded....quite tragic...”

Probably the creepiest parts of this story is just how much Jazz’s terror and sadness are down played by everyone around him. Even here Prowl is treating this more as a costly annoyance, seemingly not even thinking that Jazz just admitted he was desperate enough to cause a small explosion to try to escape the room. The fact that the medic automatically goes to “trouble training huh?” like a firefighter called to deal with a kitchen damaged after a cooking accident/fire. I worry what something “too extreme” would be? An outright suicide attempt? Even that I could see as being spun as “oh, guess that mech just wasn’t a right fit/guess he had prior emotional problems/these things happen.” Not to mention trying to comfort someone when you’re the one causing them to be in pain. 

Prowl says the medic wears traditional colors, but is it the same colors or lighter/grayer shades of them since she is the sub in a prior relationship?

 Kinda wish there was a time glossary at the top of the chapter. Otherwise I associate joor = about an hour while orn = about a day to a transformer. So Jazz says he was locked up for an hour, medic says a few hours and Prowl says he was gone five days? I know that I’m probably reading that wrong but I don’t really have a reference. Jazz isn’t complaining about low fuel and we don’t read him refueling so I don’t think it could have been more than what they would consider a day to be...

We also see Jazz send out comms to both his friend, Blaster, and his boss. We later see Blaster trying to help out but never the boss. I wonder if the boss doesn’t know, didn’t get the comm, or got some kind of compensation to “fire” Jazz and no longer care about his employee? Maybe even a forged note from Jazz saying he quit and decided to stay in Praxus? That one I could very easily see happening.

We also see that although the medic is in a loving relationship, she can still get talked over, with Prowl stating that he would talk to Derby to come up with compensation for her mate being damaged by Jazz. I’m almost surprised that Prowl listens to her being so flippant about saying how no compensation is necessary even if she does say that her mate allows her to make some of these decisions. It does really show even in a good relationship overall the system only works because the dominate mate “allows” the sub some say in her life. It does lead to the worry of what would happen one day if the mate decided that being a medic was too dangerous and decided that she should quit. There would be really no recourse for the medic, would there?

It’s like Triage understands perfectly what danger Jazz is in and her only advice is to stop fighting and just give in. It’s especially ironic since that would probably be the fastest way to have Prowl lose all interest in him, since a Jazz who doesn’t fight back is pretty much dead inside.

 Ah yes, Jazz wanting to see Praxus “as a citizen” and the through review that included never talking to Jazz about it. “You probably misunderstood something” but too bad because its already done and you have no rights now!

You know, this type of bonding seems like a fast and easy way to get some nice, skilled personal slave labor. 

I love that Prowl sees alerting the medic to a stuck door as overly cautious but still was willing to leave Jazz alone in a room. Though I guess for him he was thinking he would only be gone for a few minutes and what could Jazz possibly do in that amount of time? Though now that Prowl can drop Jazz in an instant it really wasn’t much of a problem.

And now Prowl has a new, harder to break out of room. Yaaayyy... we also see how adaptable Jazz can be, now going along with it since he doesn’t want to die and starving out of spite won’t get him to his goal. We see Prowl almost treating Jazz like a child, feeding him, petting him, and then saying “Are you going to be good now and behave?” In pretty much the same wording my parents would say to me after a time out.

And it seems like at one point Jazz did read the bonding datapad. We see Jazz trying to discuss things with Prowl and Prowl not rejecting, but still acting like he’s indulging Jazz in this. Odd Jazz mentions seeing his mentor, yet he didn’t try to comm him. Could it be the mentor is worse off than Jazz and couldn’t help?

It’s really sad to see Prowl react to what he wants from Jazz. It seems like he wants only Jazz’s good traits. Its almost like he wants two different mechs. The perfect sub in public and the Jazz he finds interesting in private. I could almost see that working and Jazz going along with it if it was an outside force keeping Jazz there rather than Prowl. 

Prowl mentions training almost like its an arms race with wound returned for wound until you just wear the other down. Prowl really thinks too highly of himself. Jazz point blank tells him, no, this isn’t going to work, continue and you will lose me. And Prowl just waves it off saying Jazz could still have goals that he may even get to keep if a third carries. Though I cannot imagine Jazz with another in the house. He would either hate/try to hurt the third if they didn’t go along with trying to escape. 

And then Jazz lashes out at Prowl again after Prowl says how much better Jazz will have it here. Only to be locked away again. I wonder if one of the other things Prowl secretly likes about Jazz is how Jazz can get so much of a rise out of Prowl, even having Prowl leave while flipping Jazz the middle figure in door speak. And Jazz is left in the dark trying to soothe himself.

Thus ends another chapter. Till nex time!

[saints-row-2]

been thinking about a loose assortment of characters again... Number One, Stripes, A1 and Nestlé... theyre all the worst and all have unimaginably enormous problems and theyre doing some shit involving killing virus like monsters that exist in this fake world created by a demon but uh theyre all. the worst. god ive made so many posts explaining who they all are i do it like once every five months and then dont mention them again and then feel compelled to explain them again because i LOVE explaining my ocs over and over because i love the sound of my own voice (when its talking about ocs) so like... Number One is the unofficial leader. it can also be written #1. he used to be called Boss but i changed it bcs it was going to be too confusing forever. he is a doctor and he has a helmet stuck permanently on his head and he is extremely bad at pretending to be a normal human guy. he cant die. hes existed in this freakish other world for so long and no one knows if he forgot who he was because he was there too long or if he isnt real. maybe none of it is real! Number One is possibly some kind of cyborg. what he actually is is the physical realisation of someone's ultimate power fantasy, without any of the ability to back that up with any genuine understanding of how to be like... a charming funny hero. he is incapable of telling jokes that make sense. he talks almost entirely in complete fucking nonsense. he operates on rules that make sense to him and him alone. he thinks that everyone in the world loves him and he never gets mad or takes anything personally. hes also incapable of genuine empathy or understanding when people have problems that need resolving because he lives in a world where he's an all-powerful unstoppable hero and everyone's his sidekick Stripes is bored and shes doing this because she thinks she can have fun with no consequences. shes Number One's best friend because she thinks he's hilarious and they get each other. she loves being cool and killing stuff. she has like... never had any choice or control in her life and its left her a complete nervous wreck in real life so now she's able to live free and powerful she's going completely out of her mind living like a mad thing because she CAN at LAST but her complete refusal to recognise anything that's happening as real or acknowledge consequences for her actions means that she's treating a lot of the people around her... not great because she doesn't. see them or their issues are real. she thinks she's in a fantasy land. she's a good person mostly she just needs a fucking break because she's 21 and her real life has been irrevocably ruined and she has no freedom or control and its destroying her A1 is crushingly, suicidally lonely and isolated and so fucking desperate for love hes willing to do anything. he has literally no one who gives a single fuck about him and in nightmare land there's people who have to be around him ALL the time. he comes across as coolly sarcastic and kind of a coward but he just incredibly badly wants people to care about him and he's enormously clingy as a result. he's terrified of Number One but follows him around anyway. he's infatuated with Nestlé. he has absolutely no ability to criticise anyone. hes the kind of person who would get described as "wild" on a night out when he just cant control himself on alcohol and has no self control or real sense of self preservation Nestlé comes across as darkly cynical and funny in an edgy way but he is an enormous fucking piece of shit. he hates everyone and thinks he's better than all of them. he has no capacity to care about anyone but himself but he leads A1 along because he likes the attention and the unwavering approval. he wants power more than anything else and he desperately wants to kill Number One and take his place as the leader of their little world but Number One is unkillable and all-powerful and even Nestlé isnt stupid enough to try but he is constantly looking for some way to lead Number One to his death. he's obsessed. he's a compulsive liar who tells everyone he's a cop but he was. never a cop. he just wanted to be a figure of authority. he tells people things he think they will find impressive. he is the only one actually succeeding at trying to figure out way the fuck is going on tho and he holds those cards very tightly to his chest because he loves having any power to wield over everyone, however limited it is.

[isolationshepherd-blog]

June 2nd 2148

It’s my mother’s birthday today. I can’t remember how old she is. Age is not really something I take much notice of, or birthdays for that matter. It’s just a day, like any other. I wouldn’t have bothered with my own if Cece hadn’t forced me and look how that turned out! Mom has asked me to visit her later so I have promised to look in on her once my shift is over.

Midnight

What a night! Now I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of one of my own interrogations. It started out badly and went downhill from there. When I arrived at my mother’s apartment I was greeted with a notice telling me to go to the Mess. My suspicions should have been raised then but I figured she preferred to meet for a drink. I was not expecting a party to be in full swing when I walked through the door. It was gone 9pm because I had to work late dealing with a technical problem on Prison Station. There must have been a couple of hundred people in the room. I started to turn to walk back out again when mother called my name. She has a quiet voice but years of preaching have taught her how to project it and it cut through the air like a missile, leaving silence in its wake. Everyone turned to look at me and I knew my chance to escape had gone.

She walked towards me, drink in hand, and by the wobble in her gait it looked as though she had already had more than one drink.

“Happy Birthday, mom.” I kissed her cheek, her skin thin and papery beneath my lips. “I wasn’t expecting so many people here.” I gestured round the room at the throng who had gone back to chatting now that my presence had been noted. Some of them were no doubt talking about me judging by the sly glances in my direction. I’m used to that; it comes with being Head of the Guard. I don’t mind people talking about me; it’s preferable to them talking to me.

“Well, it is a special birthday, Marcus.” Mom looked closely at me and I could tell from the way her mouth dropped slightly at the edges that she suspected I had no idea what birthday it was.

“Congratulations,” I replied, which was lame I know, but it bought me a little time. I did some quick math in my head. She’d told me many times how they’d tried for a child for years, and then I came along just when they’d given up hope. I was the apple of her eye blah, blah, blah. I gambled. “You look great for seventy, mom.”

She beamed at me then and I relaxed a little. It didn’t last long. I glanced around the room. I was hoping to see Sinclair so there would at least be someone to talk to but the only person nearby was Abby, standing alone, leaning against the wall, sipping from her cup, those sharp eyes scanning the crowd before alighting on me. I nodded to her in greeting. She returned the gesture. Jake was across the room talking to someone from Engineering. There was no sign of Cece thankfully.

“You’re here alone again, Marcus. No girlfriend?” Mom looked me up and down and from every angle as though I were going to produce a woman from some hidden crevice in my clothing.

“I’m not seeing anyone at present, mom.” I get this question every time I see her. It’s tiresome. I was tempted to tell her about Cece just to get her off my back but I know it would have the opposite effect. The questions would just get more detailed and personal.

“You never seem to be. Perhaps you have a boyfriend? I’m okay with that, you know. You can tell me. There’s no shame in it.”

“I know, mom.” Does she forget that she asks me these things every time or does she think that if she asks me enough times one day I’ll give in and reveal some hidden truth? Someday, I’ll tell her I’m having a secret affair with Commander Shumway and see if that shuts her up.

Abby was listening to this entire exchange. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, watching us, smirking.

I rested my hand on my mother’s arm, gave it a squeeze that was just a bit harder than it should be, as a signal to keep her voice down, or change the subject. As usual she didn’t notice, or ignored it.

“You always were a sensitive child. Locked away in your room, reading. What was it you always liked to read? What was that book, Marcus?”

“I don’t remember, mom.”

“Oh, you do. There was a little boy in it. What was his name?”

“There are little boys in most children’s books.”

Abby moved closer. She had a blush of red across her nose and cheeks, and her eyes were even brighter than usual. I don’t think she was on her first cup of alcohol either. She gave my mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Vera.”

“Aw, thank you, love.”

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”

What was she doing butting in? I gave Abby a glare so heated it could have melted steel. She looked away, unaffected. I forgot; she’s tougher than steel, more like Kevlar.

“I think Jake is looking for you, Abby.” I gestured vaguely in the direction of where I’d last seen Jake, trying to deflect her from whatever she was about to say, which was sure to be uncomfortable for me one way or another. She ignored me. Why are all the women in my life so wilful and belligerent? I like a strong woman, don’t get me wrong. Everyone’s equal on the Ark, always have been, and that’s the way it should be. It’s just that sometimes, just now and then, I would like for someone to listen to me and do as they’re told. The only people who do that are my guards and that’s because they have no choice. Will one day someone do as I ask because they want to, because it pleases them to please me? I doubt it.

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “Jake is fine. I think I know the book Marcus used to like to read. It was that book about the boy who travelled the universe.”

She paused then, looking pensive, like she was searching the dark recesses of her memory, though I’m sure it was all for effect.

“The Little Prince, wasn’t it, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry?”

“Oh, it was, Marcus. That’s right!”

My mother clapped her hands with childish glee at the memory. My heart sank. Of course, Abby was right, but this was not a conversation I wanted to have with her right now. I attempted to shut her down.

“Like I said, I don’t remember.”

My attempt to quiet her failed. She continued.

“No, it definitely was, Marcus.” The way she pronounced my given name was like a snake in a fairytale pretending to be friendly. The lips formed a bright smile, the fangs were hidden, but the s was hissed, and full of venom. I swear I expected a forked tongue to come out of her mouth at any moment. There was no stopping her.

“I remember, because it was one of the only paper books on the Ark and you were the lucky one who had it. It was battered and dog-eared and smelled funny but you wouldn’t be parted from it.”

“Perhaps you are right, but I’ve grown since then. I’ve put away childish things.”

“Quoting the Bible, Marcus! You taught him well, Vera.”

Mom was looking back and forth between us, smiling tipsily.

“I wasn’t sure any of it had stuck,” she said.

“Clearly it has,” replied Abby. “And so apt. If there’s anyone who sees through a glass, darkly, it’s Marcus.” Her leering smile reminded me of the one she gave me in my dream, just before she unbuttoned me. How did I ever turn that into something sexy? It should have given me nightmares.

“Thank you for your insightful analysis of my character, Abby. If only we were all as perfect as you.”

She took a sip of her drink, ignoring my comment.

“So what was it about The Little Prince that resonated with you so much? Did you identify with him?”

I didn’t want to give her more ammunition to attack me with. “Aren’t there patients pining for your bedside manner?”

“What do you think, Vera?”

Ignored, again.

“Well, he always did want to escape, didn’t you? He used to pretend he lived on another planet, Abby. Spent ages staring out into space picking the perfect home.”

This was like a nightmare there was no waking up from. I couldn’t see how to escape this conversation without giving these persistent women something to chew on.

“Who wouldn’t want to escape this place? It’s hardly a surprise that a young child stuck in a spaceship would dream of adventure.”

Abby nodded. “That’s true, but it’s sad, isn’t it, because there’s no hope of going anywhere else except the Ark, so your childish dreams will never come true and you must have known that at the time?”

“What we want as a child is not the same as what we want when we are adults. And anyway, it depends on how you look at it. In the end, what the boy wanted most he found on his own planet after all.”

“You mean love?”

“I’m talking about meaning. Purpose.”

Abby rubbed her finger along her lower lip, a gesture she often does when she’s thinking, or plotting, I never know which. “You are like the Little Prince, the more I think about it. Disciplined, determined, single-minded.”

“You say it as though those are bad things to be.”

“They are, when that’s all there is. Where’s your rose, Marcus? Was there ever a rose?”

That question was so loaded and personal I didn’t know how to answer it, except by lying. My pause before answering was a fraction too long and that told Abby far more than my words did.

“No. There was no rose.” I tried to look her in the eye but I couldn’t quite manage it. There was silence for a moment. My mother was smiling and reminiscing to herself but Abby’s silence had a weight to it. When I finally looked at her I could see her brain working, see the emotions flashing across her eyes. I was annoyed with this whole stupid conversation, with the truths it was revealing.

“Jake is looking for you,” I said, and this time he was. She turned and saw him waving her over. She looked back at me, her mouth slightly open as though she was about to speak, and then she shut it again, choosing silence for once in her life. She nodded at me, and gave mom a kiss before heading across the room to Jake.

“I never understood what happened with you and Abby, Marcus,” said mom, and I just shook my head, not willing to start THAT conversation. Women will be the death of me.

Of course, I can admit in here that the whole conversation was excruciating because there was so much truth in it but there was no way in hell I wanted mom or Abby to see that. I still have that book, and when I got back earlier I read it again. When you’re young and idealistic, it’s easy for people to disappoint you, for the rose to have thorns that prick you and make you bleed. Now that I’m older, and time has passed, people still disappoint me, but I can see that, perhaps, I disappoint them as well. All the rose wanted was some care and attention, but as the Little Prince said, “I was too young to know how to love her.”