#he's among the taller guys in the team and he sounds very angry on the battlefield

[vaxxman]

"STOP TAKING THE HEALTH KITS"

He ubered the scout after this.

Additional sketches and some ramblings under the cut.

This is based on an encounter I had the other day, when a demoman took a medkit before my medigun connected with him. When he saw my health was down to 21, he would force me to stand at the spawn point and guarded me until I was healed. Wherever you are now, if you read this, you were a good lad and I love you.

Sometimes I think about how medic is emotionally very invested in the missions (which shows in his voice when he shouts at his team), but off-duty and during friendly taunts he seems to be among the most giggly, and fun-loving mercenaries in the team. I like to think he can get agitated very fast, but cools down just as quickly.

[dorizardthewizard]

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 8

Prologue / Chapter 7 / Chapter 9

8. AN UNEXPECTED PASSER

“Arcadia News! News from all over the galaxy!” A female voice announces to playful music, as the show's logo scrolls.

- From across the galaxy, indeed, - says Nork Ag’net, TTV's star presenter. - And more particularly from the small planet Akillian. Things are certainly going on on Akillian at the moment! Wouldn’t you agree, Callie?

On the giant holo-screen next to Nork Ag'net there is an aerial view of the ancient capital that appears frozen in the ice, like a huge angular iceberg washed up on the edge of the Windy Plateaus. The only moving element in this frozen setting, the Akillian flag, still flies atop the Soustra Tower, the tallest building in the ruined city. The camera zooms in and dives along ice cliffs and frosted walls, to Callie Mystic standing in front of one of the walkways leading to Arena Stadium, which resembles a huge ocean liner frozen in a bluish crystal.

- Indeed, Nork! Because I'm talking to you live from a place that some consider cursed, since the Catastrophe that led to the Ice Age... it’s the Arena Stadium! As you can see, externally nothing has changed in all these years, but what interests us here is that this place of sinister memory has just recently been reinvested in by a man - and not just any man. That is: Aarch, the former star striker of the Akillian team!

While delivering her speech, Callie crosses the footbridge and enters the interior of the stadium, to a scene of frantic activity led by the “Scrap”, who are melting the ice, pumping water, consolidating the superstructure, climbing the collapsed walls, and repairing faulty circuits.

- If the ground floor has become unusable, - continues Callie, crossing the site. - This is not the case for the underground areas and the corridors of the stadium which, miraculously, were spared from the progression of the ice and whose renovation was entrusted to a small army of hard-working robots. Aarch has agreed to answer all of our burning questions…

In his father's studio, Rocket, seated in front of the screen, is half-heartedly preparing a wreath of roses - Norata's famous purple roses - while following the show with a dismal expression. He puts down the clippers, disheartened.

- For example, how does he hope to, in his own words, “write a new page in the history of this sport on our beautiful planet” with the rookie team he has just recruited? He will answer us, I hope, with his legendary frankness...

Callie has just entered a room furnished with comfortable sofas, where Aarch and his team are waiting - only Tia is missing. Micro-Ice waves at the holo-cam.

- We will also get to know his trainees better, the lucky ones selected to take up this incredible challenge. But is this just luck, or is it...

The TV is suddenly cut off. Startled, Rocket whirls around: his father is there, remote control in hand.

- Dad! Why did you turn it off?

- You know perfectly well that I will not go back on my decision. So why are you hurting yourself by watching this?

Rocket gets up, angry.

- I'm not the one who hurt me. You did!

He leaves the room, boiling with rage. If he could have slammed the door, he would have, but unfortunately the door is a sliding one.

Norata is left alone in his office, in front of the black screen and the cut roses, as memories flow into his mind...

Fifteen years ago. That infamous free kick that would decide the fate of the game, possibly Akillian’s victory over the Shadows - his first victory. Aarch, in full control, all lit up with the Breath of Akillian. A glance at Norata, who smiles at him and nods his head: Come on brother, make us win! Aarch takes a few steps back and takes off… an arced, magnificent shot, going around the wall of the Shadow's defense. The ball shoots towards the goal… and the unbelievable, the inconceivable happens: the ball explodes in the hand of the Shadows’ goalkeeper. And then... the hurricane. The ground shaking, the howling wind swirling between the stands, the cascade of snow and ice spewed out by an inky sky. The stadium that cracks on all sides... the screams, panic. The frantic sprinting. Norata tries to catch up with his brother, taller than him, with longer strides. He slips on the ground covered with hailstones… a bad fall. A searing pain in the leg. Impossible to get up. And his limbs, that broken leg that freezes... Norata, alone among the raging elements, in the middle of this stadium that is collapsing under the hurricane, lashed by snow gusts, stoned by furious hail. Alone.

Alone, Norata remained; alone and forgotten on Akillian, while his glorious brother pursued a prestigious career elsewhere, on his own two legs...

Norata snorts, sits down at his desk and turns on the TV, resuming the work his son had abandoned. Memories are sometimes much worse than nightmares...

***

Sitting on the edge of a sofa, Callie interviews Aarch, who looks very relaxed:

- Rumor has it that you have applied for your team to participate in the next Galactik Football Cup?

- It’s not a rumor, - smiles the coach. - It's the truth!

- Isn't that a bit... rushed?

- I leave that up to the League to decide.

- Do you really believe that you can build a team worthy of the name in such a short time?

- Why not? Thanks to my friend Clamp's machines, we train hard, you know...

- And where are the Red Tigers in all this? They are the official Akillian club after all!

- If my team is approved, I propose a match to determine who will represent Akillian at the Cup.

- Interesting! ...What does your former friend and teammate think? I mean of course Artegor Nexus, the coach of the Red Tigers.

- Artegor, who loves victories so much, will not pass on the opportunity to face a club weaker than his! - quips Aarch.

- Aaarrrgh! - roars Artegor Nexus, angered by what he just saw and heard.

Seething, he grabs the first thing that comes to hand - a gilded bronze statuette of a ball, the only trophy ever won by Akillian in a friendly match against the Cyclops - and throws it violently at the screen. It bounces off the soft surface, hitting a panel of glass and shatters it in two.

- It's curious, - says Adium, the president of the Federation. – It looks like you're afraid to go up against Aarch!

Artegor swivels around and slams his hands on the desk.

- What are you talking about, Adium?

- What exactly are you afraid of? You have a lot more resources than him and your players have been training for longer...

Artegor makes a violent effort to contain the anger that boils in his veins and escapes in dark threads around him: the Shadow’s Smog… he has spent too much time on Obscurantis.

- I'm not afraid of anything or anyone! – He straightens up, sighs, and reverts to his usual arrogance. - Especially not Aarch. I am a better coach than him. And I have always been much stronger on the pitch!

***

At nightfall, Rocket slips surreptitiously into the courtyard through a window of his father's chalet. After making sure no one has seen him, he runs to his jet-snow, which he had parked outside for once, instead of returning it to the garage. He starts off slowly so as to not wake his dad, then steps on it when he enters the street, in the direction of Arcadia and the Arena Stadium…

He abandons the jet-snow in front of the access gangway, stepping onto it carefully. Nothing and nobody can stop him... he enters the interior of the stadium, where there is still a frenetic activity: the “Scrap” do not need any rest, knowing neither peace nor respite. A little disoriented within the construction site, Rocket tries to recall the route taken by Callie Mystic during her report. She crossed this hall, took this corridor… a “Scrap” suddenly rises in front of him, blinking with its electronic eye. Uh oh! Is it going to throw him out? Report him to Clamp?

- We have completed the renovation of Sector 12, sir. Do you want to inspect the site?

Rocket lets out a sigh of relief.

- Uh... it's okay, I trust you. Good job. Keep it up, guys!

- Thank you, sir. Should we start Sector 13?

- Yes, of course, get started with Sector 13.

The “Scrap” pulls away and Rocket continues on his way, holding back a laugh. How lucky that these robots are not very smart! He descends into the basements, which are much tidier and quieter, and wanders the halls for a while, not daring to open doors at random, for fear of falling upon the team's dormitory - or worse - his uncle...

A large round door attracts his attention, on which a sign reads HOLO-TRAINING. “Here it is!” breathes Rocket. Trembling in apprehension, he presses the open command. He expects alarms to sound, or at least the door to stay closed...

It slides silently.

Heart pounding, Rocket enters a large circular room, where the ceiling lights up as he enters. Four steps lead down to a hall below, in the center of which sits the large white cube he has already seen during the trials, in which Tia had presented herself in such a strange way. Tia… that cute little Obiane… who's probably part of Aarch's team now. She wanted it so much, and given her talent… she is surely there, somewhere, very close… his heart sinks at the thought.

Now, it wasn't for Tia that Rocket came. Going around the gallery surrounding the hall, he arrives in front of the desks supporting the consoles and control panels. He fiddles with his dreadlocks, puzzled: he doesn't know anything about computers, where do you find the holo-trainer's open command in there? How to get it started? From what he understood, everything is virtual inside: if no program is started, it will only morph into a big empty box…

A console is located away from the others, placed on a sort of stand. He looks at the touchscreen, being careful not to touch anything. Among the dials, tables and cryptic symbols, an area marked REPLAY glows in green.

Could it be that simple? Rocket puts his index finger forward, still hesitating… well, after all, this is what he came for. If it doesn't work, too bad, it's not going to break anything anyway...

His finger presses on the glowing area.

It generates a drop-down menu that displays the list of the last programs launched in the holo-trainer: passes, dribbles, target shots, ball handling, saves, special shots, etc. A cursor allows you to select one or the other. So far, it seems simple… Rocket chooses “passes”, the first on the list. Then he touches the REPLAY area again.

The holo-trainer's door slides out in front of him. Shivering, he walks inside... the door closes, the white ground turns into a football field, the black walls fade away in favor of an artificial sky. A ball appears at Rocket's feet. Moving targets, represented by concentric circles, begin to drift here and there. He quickly understands what he needs to do: hit each of these targets, which are supposed to be players on the move. A little more difficult than his landmarks in the ice, over there in his secret cave...

Rocket concentrates, takes a few steps back… and shoots. The ball sinks into the first target, which flashes green as the circles move apart from each other, measuring the force of the strike. A new ball materializes in front of him. He aims for another target and starts over… once, twice, three times… ten times. Each time the target moves faster and is more difficult to hit. But Rocket is super focused, and he never misses one. At the eleventh target appear blue sims who try to obstruct, to prevent him from aiming or shooting. He dribbles around them quite easily, cunningly trying new shots: twist, arc, one or two rebounds... always, the ball hits its target. Exhilarated, Rocket doesn’t realise the time passing... until a luminous icon looms in the air in the middle of the field, announcing END OF PROGRAM. Below appear the words “Total points: 160”. He does not know what these points correspond to, whether they are correct, or whether they are sufficient…

Everything disappears in the holo-trainer; the floor lights up white, the walls darken, and the door opens. Rocket exits, returning to the console. He feels fit, even excited, he would be tempted to start another program. But someone could come at any time... after a last regretful glance at this magnificent device, he goes out into the corridor and goes back the way he came... this time, no “Scrap” stops him.

***

Later that night, the Arena Stadium receives another visit: he is the youngest of bookmaker Ballow's henchmen, also arriving on a jet-snow. He studies with suspicion the fresh traces left by Rocket, inspecting the surroundings using infra-red binoculars... concluding that no guard is posted in the vicinity, he walks over the bridge with a cautious step, carrying a small shoulder bag.

As soon as he gets inside, he is assaulted by one of the “Scrap” on the site. He draws his pistol, ready to fire (and jeopardize his mission at the same time), but the robot addresses him with deference:

- Sir, we have a structural problem in Sector 13. Can you come and see?

- Buzz off, you stupid machine. - growls the henchman between clenched teeth.

He casts worried glances around him but does not spot any human around the brightly lit worksite, where the “Scrap” work diligently and (more or less) efficiently.

- I don't understand that answer. – replies the “Scrap”, its diodes blinking in perplexment. - Should I tell Professor Clamp?

- Absolutely not! Uh... wait until he wakes up. Yes, that's it: when he is awake and comes to inspect the site, then you will tell him your problem.

- Very well, sir.

With these words, the robot goes into stand-by and collapses on its pseudo-pods. “What morons, these machines”, smiles the mobster. He takes a blueprint out of his satchel and resumes his cautious progress through the construction site, where the other “Scrap” pay him no attention.

He arrives at the renovated part of the basement and walks along the silent corridors, plunged into semi-darkness, pointing a micro-torch at every sign he sees. Finally, he finds the door he is looking for: large, round, marked HOLO-TRAINING. With the same trepidation as Rocket had some time ago, he presses the open command, pulls out his pistol again and points it towards the doorway, expecting to see guards, droids, he doesn't know what.

The door slides normally, nothing and no one shows up, no alarm chirps. “Too easy”, smirks the henchman. He remains on the threshold for a moment to inspect the room. That console over there, all by itself on its stand... it must be the main command post. He approaches it, kneels in front, then rummages in his bag, pulling out a small flat device with a micro-antenna and an auto-grip suction cup on one side. He places it under the console, stands up, steps back, then extracts from the bag a receiver hardly bigger than a credit card, on which he switches a tiny cursor to the “test” position: five diodes light up and flash green, one after the other. The thug nods, satisfied.

He turns off the receiver, puts it back in his bag and walks back in the opposite direction. He passes the same robot near the exit, still on stand-by. Another “Scrap” tries in vain to impart information to him, spraying him with laser beams of various colors.

As soon as he gets back to his jet-snow, Ballow's man makes a call:

- Mr. Nexus, it's Jorg. Mission accomplished.

He climbs onto his machine, drives off and plunges into Akillian's blue night.

***

Clamp never sleeps much. As a skilled scientist, he constantly ruminates on a thousand problems in his head, constantly has ideas to explore, programs to improve, avenues of research to explore. Awakened before everyone else, he's always the first in the holo-trainer room, but not for training - Clamp is about as skilled with a ball as a mountaineer with fins - but to perfect his invention: correct this or that defect, test new training sessions...

This is how he finds his console stuck on REPLAY and on program selection “passes”. He scratches his beard, intrigued: he hadn't left it like this last night… and the last session was ball control, not passing! He remembers it vividly: Micro-Ice had made everyone laugh by being thrown off the conveyor belt like a sack of potatoes.

He asks his console to review “passes” on the monitor. What he then discovers in the viewing window leaves him speechless… he decides to call Aarch straight away - even if it means waking him up.

He arrives ten minutes later, already tucked into his breeches and his three-quarter-length jacket with trims, but disheveled and still sleepy.

- If you woke me up just to show me one of your inventions, Clamp, I warn you that I will not take it very well!

- Not at all, Aarch. Take a look at this.

It plays back the sequence in full screen mode. Aarch opens his eyes wide, suddenly awake.

- Rocket?

- Yes, your nephew. But take a good look...

Rocket aims, shoots, hits the target. Aims, shoots, hits the target again. Return shot - target hit. Dribbles past a sim, shoots in a spin - target hit. Head, foot, rebound, shoot – target hit, behind a sim. And so on, and so on. “160 points” displays on the console.

- He did a perfect run, Aarch! I’ve never seen such a good passer before. Impressive!

Aarch nods doubtfully.

- Impressive, yes, as you say. Unfortunately, he is my brother's son. And you know what Norata thinks...

[mydearestdaisy]

It's been five months since Younghoon and Hyunjae started officially going out. They were never seen fighting during those period of time, and admittedly, despite their constant bickering (“We were not arguing, seriously, we’re just exchanging our opinions,” so both of them would say) they communicate everything well, resolving each conflicts together with ease.

Little do they know, though, all hell broke loose whenever they play games together.

You see, neither of them are keen of the idea of losing and both of them are very much competitive, always compelled to win.

Hyunjae doesn't talk to Younghoon for a solid one hour after three rounds of UNO game because his boyfriend snatched all the wins for himself (and rub it in front of his face, too).

These days, they have been engaging in the game ‘Among Us,’ and after playing for fifteen minutes they suddenly started giving the silent treatment to one another.

Younghoon is not one to sulk for long, but on this particular afternoon (after what seemed like three rounds of Among Us sessions) he has been dramatically going on about backstabbing and betrayals.

“I still can't believe you betrayed me. God, you even framed me in front of everyone and apparently you're the Impostor. Wow! I can't believe you did that,” Younghoon sneered at Hyunjae as he opened the cabinet, where he was going to grab some bread for himself and take the cartoon of milk on the top shelf that his boyfriend always drinks.

“Can’t you just give me the milk and accept the fact that you lose?” Hyunjae said in a matter-of-fact tone, sounding proud about his recent victory and extends his hand to the taller guy to ask for his milk.

“After being betrayed by my own Boyfriend? No.”

“God, Hooney. Of course I would frame you, I had to. It's in the role’s descriptions, Hello!”

“You didn't even try to deny that you betrayed Me? What the fuck, Jaehyun.”

“Very rich of you to say that when you killed me first when you became Impostor.”

“Hey, it's better than going on in the group chat about how you saw me venting and all of that. I was nice enough to stab you on the front than to go as low as backstabbing you, so, points for me.”

“But you keep killing me first!”

“When!”

“All the fucking time, what the fuck!”

Their (not so) little argument were interrupted with Changmin who stomped his feet angrily at them. He stood by in front of the two older guy, wearing annoyance in his face.

“For the love of God, Hyunjae hyung, I have told this gazillion of times... can't you please shut up? Younghoon hyung too, I can't believe you're starting to be like him! Ugh,”

“But-”

“First of all,” Changmin interrupted again before they can made any rebuttal, “Both of you really should shut up. And secondly, you both killed and frame me — and Sunwoo when you guys teamed up as the impostor.”

“Oh, that was one hell of a time.”

“Let’s play another round then so we can kill some crewmates together.”

“NO! I'm never playing games with you two again and I'm going to uninstall the games from your phone!” Changmin stomps away, shouting at them to ‘shut the fuck up’ before walking out of the room.

Younghoon and Hyunjae looks at one another, suddenly laughing as their eyes met. Younghoon gave Hyunjae the milk, they still laughed, probably because they realized how serious they sounded over a single game.

That is, until one for them suddenly wraps his arm around the other as his puppy eyes does wonder.

“Can we play for one more round?”

“Okay, fine!”

(One hour later Hyunjae’s screams could be heard all over the dorm while Younghoon is celebrating his win and there's an angry Chanhee this time, whining and telling them to shut up).

[oscar-piastri]

there for you [warren worthington]

summary: just warren always coming to the reader’s rescue and him just being soft

words: 2.5k

notes: it might be messy with bad writing?

Walking in the hallway, you were carrying a few books in your hands. Since you were late to class, your teacher asked you to stay after this class so you could bring back those books to the school’s library. The pile of books was huge and you could barely see what was happening in front of you, as you struggled to find your way among the students.

“Excuse me… Excuse me” you try to speak louder to catch the students’ attention, as you tilted your head to see them talking and blocking your way.

“Hey, the lady asked you to move” you heard someone speak behind you. You turned your head to see Warren standing behind you, his arms crossed on his chest. The students gulped when they saw him glaring at them and they shyly apologized before running away.

Of course they ran, Warren was looking pretty mean with his death stare, his metal wings spreading in the hallway and his leather jacket that gave him a certain attitude. He was imposing and the fact that he was with Apocalypse made the young mutants scared of him. The tattoos on his face were a great reminder of his alliance with Apocalypse.

Warren turned his attention to you and gave you a soft smile. “That was really nice of you” you thanked him, smiling back at him.

“That’s the second time I come to your rescue this morning” he recalled, as you wished you could hide yourself, remembering the event from earlier this morning.

Warren avoided you a trip to the infirmary this morning. The reason why you were late to class was because you woke up 10 minutes later and it messed up your whole planning. Your only class of the day and you managed to get late. So you were running to class, trying to minimize the damages. Too focused on what was in front of you, you didn’t notice the little marbles on the ground and you trip over them, right before the stairs.

You gasped as you felt your body falling in the stairs, you closed your eyes as your face was only a few inches away from the wood.

But you felt a strong grip around your waist and you opened just one eye, to see yourself being held by Warren, as he flapped his wings, flying with you in his arms. He carefully dropped you on the ground before making sure you were okay.

“That was gonna be a hell of a fall” he joked as you felt your cheeks burning of embarrassment.

“Thank you, Warren” you said before glancing at your watch. You loudly coursed when you saw you were even more late than before. You ran to your class, thanking Warren for saving you from the fall in the stairs.

Back in the school’s hallways, Warren offered to carry the books for you but you were quick to refuse. It was your “punishment” for being late, there was no way you were gonna let Warren do it. Instead, he proposed to walk with you, and you couldn’t refuse that.

“Am I that scary?” Warren asked, with a bit of sadness in his voice. “It’s just.. I didn’t mean to scare them. I just asked them to move” he continued, starting to blame himself for the kids’ reactions.

You put the books down for a minute. “Don’t mind them, they’re still young. They only know you with that Apocalypse story they’ve been told. I don’t think you’re scary, I think you’re nice, kind and helpful” you told Warren, as you watch I smile growing on his face. “But yeah, I guess your wings and the tattoos are making you look like the bad guy” you chuckled as you pointed to his metal wings he was trying to hide behind his back. “But I personally won’t blame you for your acts. You’ve been forced to do cage fights, you’ve been betrayed by humans. I understand that you were angry at the whole world”

“I just regret that part of my life so much” he confessed “And those stupid wings are there to remind me, every single day, of my mistakes” he grunted. You looked at him, a little bit confused. “My wings used to be beautiful with long and white feathers. When I had to fight against Kurt, they got in a terrible shape, most likely broken and it was hurting like hell. Could barely fly. Apocalypse saw my potential and made me stronger by giving me those a wings. But I hate them so much” he described, as you created that image in your head, of Warren and his old wings.

“Warren… I-” you didn’t had time to finish your sentence because Warren cut you off right away.

“Anyways, let’s get you to the library” he said forcing a smile on his face, but you knew he was deeply hurt. You simply nodded, feeling pain in your heart as you watched this broken man walking away.

You finally got to the library, you didn’t say a word during the walk and neither did Warren. Finally relieved from the heavy weight of the books, you stretched your arms trying to make the pain in your arms go away, feeling the freedom.

“Thank again for today. You really saved me” you thanked him again, putting a smile on your face.

“Anytime, love. I’ll always be there for you, I’ll be there to catch you every time you fall” he winked, making you giggle

“I don’t intend to fall again!” You jokingly protested and that made him smile

“Too bad” he said before turning around to walk away. “It was nice talking to you” he said, waving. You could only see his back but you were glad to feel a smile in his voice.

Days had passed and you were now in training room. It was physical combat training, one against one. You looked at Warren from afar, and you laughed seeing the situation. Boys were avoiding to team up with him, they were to scared he’d beat them up. On the other hand, girls were throwing themselves at him, trying their best to train with him.

But you, you didn’t bother asking anyone to team up with you, it’s just that you hated that class and you prefered staying sit, working on your new project.

“That’s a good idea you got! Not attending training class so I would have to save you in a fight” Warren chuckled as he made you way towards you. His silhouette was blocking the light, making you close your notebook.

“Oh really?” You smirked. “I can take care of myself during a fight” you said standing up, after putting your little notebook in your bag. You had to look up to look at Warren in the eyes because he was a little bit taller, but you were ready to challenge him.

“Alright, shorty. Show me what you got” he said, flying away from you. As you walked away, you overheard some students talking about Warren.

“He’s just trying to redeem himself, acting like a nice guy so we’ll trust him. He’s using Y/N she’s too naive” they whispered but they weren’t as discreet as they thought they were; and you heard them. You brushed those stupidities away as you got ready to show Warren what you were capable to do. And to be fair, you didn’t care, because you probably said that by pure jealousy of your growing friendship with him.

But the clumsy mess you were, got her foot stuck in the rug and you tripped, your face down on the ground. Everyone laughed expect for Warren who rushed down to help you get up. “See, you need me again” he said laughing. “Let’s get you to the infirmary” he said before carrying you in his arms and flying away from the room. All the students watched in awe as you yelled at Warren to drop you.

But days after days, you noticed that people were starting to look at Warren differently, they weren’t fearing him anymore, on the contrary, they were always trying to spend time with him, asking him questions about his past. And without noticing, Warren quickly became the number one boy; the guardian angel. Everyone was praising him for being that good classmate who always comes to the rescue of people.

He was spending less time with you, you could barely see him in the hallways and you could never speak to him. You hated that, but you felt like the whispers going around during training were right. So you were surprised and angry to find him sitting next to you in the hallway.

“Don’t you have to be with your new friends?” You spatted when he sat down.

“What? You jealous now?” He joked, not knowing about your doubting feelings about his honesty.

“Haha, very funny” you coldly replied, which surprised him. He wasn’t used to be welcomed like that, especially with you.

“What? You’re not happy for me? You’re mad that I have new friends?” He asked, but you didn’t answer, not even bothering to look at him. “Is that what you want? For me to be alone, all over again?!” He asked again, raising his voice as anger was taking control of his emotions.

“No, but I’m pissed off because you used me to play all nice so people would like you. You were just being nice to me in order to redeem yourself from your mistakes!” you explained, still keeping your gaze away from him.

“Wow, is that what you think of me?” He asked, and you could hear how hurt he was by the sound of his voice.

“N-no.. I.. I don’t know! It’s just.. I overheard people saying that but I didn’t wanna believe it…. But ever since people saw you helping me, they all like you and you started ditching me and my brain told me that you used me to have friends. I figured you played nice with me to show that you were good, and once you were popular you’d leave me because you got what you wanted and-” you stopped your sentence when you realised that what you were saying was the dumbest thing ever. Warren wasn’t like that.

Yes he wanted to show people that he had changed, that he wasn’t the same Warren from the past, but deep down, you knew he’d never use you for that. Because he knows what it feels like to be used, he knows how much it hurts and he wouldn’t want anyone to feel that. Maybe he was right, maybe you were simply jealous that you had to share him with other students.

You sighed realizing your dumb judgement. “Yeah.. Maybe I was jealous and I let stupid thoughts giving me a wrong image about you” you sincerely apologized, hoping that he would forgive you.

“Alright, listen” he started, getting your whole attention. “I’m not doing that to redeem myself, never thought of doing that. I really enjoy saving you” he said laughing. You smile, glad that he wasn’t mad at you. “I also love spending time with you, somehow you make me feel safe and worthy of all the affection I’m receiving here. Thank you for believing in me and treating me like a normal student when I first got here” he concluded and you laid your head on his shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Warren and you deserve all those new friends” you admitted

“But don’t be jealous, you’re still my favorite” he said, making you roll your eyes.

One day, you’re hanging out with your friends, and the next day, you’re on the battlefield fighting some unknown enemy. All those moments with Warren are flashing through your eyes as you slowly start to become unconscious; your enemy holding you by the neck, slowly making you out of breath. Too weak to defend yourself with your power, you give up, taking your hands off his strong grip. “Pathetic” he growled, as he threw you over the building.

You feel yourself falling, preparing your body to touch the ground and feel that pain roaming through your body. But you did not feel that, instead you felt two arms holding you as you fly higher. You could barely keep your eyes open but you noticed a tattoo and wings and knew right away who was saving you, once again.

“I told you, I’ll always catch you” he said holding you tighter as he managed to get you to safety. You smiled at him with difficulty as you closed your eyes slowly, passing out in your friend’s arms.

You woke up, feeling pain everywhere, but mostly a strong headache. You rubbed your eyes, trying to adjust to the light as you realise that you’re in a bed, in the infirmary.

“Great, you’re awake!” you turned your face in the voice’s direction, only to find Warren sitting in a chair, his legs crossed and resting on the bed.

You let your head fall back in the pillow as you remembered what happened. “You were right, looks like I needed you to save me again” you chuckled, wincing at the pain.

“My pleasure” he said smiling. “So, that’s what you’ve been working on!” He said as he looked through the pages of your notebook. They were filled with drawings of wings, ideas, formulas and things he couldn’t quite understand. But he understood the most important part and it made his heart melt. It took you a few minutes to realise that he was holding your notebook and that he was now aware of your little secret project.

“Yeah.. Ever since you told me about your wings, I was working with Mr McCoy to find a way to give you back your feather wings” you shyly admitted, feeling your cheeks getting warmer.

This put the biggest smile on Warren’s face. “God, love, you’re so adorable. I love you” he blurred out, dropping the notebook on your bedside table. You looked at him with wide eyes as soon as he said those words.

“Can you hum… repeat please?” you asked, unsure of what he just said. Either your mind was playing tricks with you, or Warren just told you he loved you. But seeing how awkward Warren just got, you knew what answer was the right one.

“I uh… I said I lov-”

“I love you too” you cut him off, making him sigh in relief.

You moved in bed and patted the free space beside you so he could join you and he didn’t hesitate one second. He struggled to adjust his wings, but once he got into the right position, he swore he’d never leave this bed.

“Yeah, you do know I’ll have to leave the infirmary, right? Beside, I really need to pee” you told him, but he only brought you closer to him.

“I don’t care” he said as he nuzzled his face in your hair.

[time-is-a-pain]

The Septic Academy The First Mission

On the 12th hour on the first day of October, 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth at the same time. The peculiar thing about these deliveries, compared to the hundreds of others that were happening on the same day, is that none of these 43 women had been pregnant prior to giving birth.

Sir Damian Hargreeves, eccentric, millionaire, adventurer, traveled the world to find and adopt as many of these babies as he could. He got his hands on 7 of them.

Sir Hargreeves discovered the abilities of the children he adopted and trained them, molding them into a team of heroes. He called their team the Septic Academy, in honor of the fact that the children were still learning.

Sir Hargreeves first deemed his children ready to tell the world they existed when the news of a bank robbery aired on the radio.

The mission went exactly as he had hoped it would, the hostages were kept safe and the criminals were ended. Those who had survived the Academy would go to the hospital, and later, to prison. The press coverage was better than he had hoped for as well. Dozens of reporters and photographers stood in front of the steps, clamoring for pictures and shouting over each other in hopes of getting their questions answered.

“This is Jim Jimson, reporting live for Jim News outside the Capital West bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank, not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages. The police are here and doing what they can to negotiate with the robbers and get the hostages out to safety.”

Marvin skipped his way towards the angry man on the walky talky, smiling like that cat who finally caught the mouse.

“Hey, get back with the others,” the man ordered Marvin impatiently. Marvin bowed his head before looking back up at the man, “I heard a rumor.”

The man leaned in, “What? What did you say?”

Marvin’s smile grew as he put a hand up to hide his mouth, like he was about to whisper a secret. “I heard a rumor, that you shot your friend.”

The man’s eyes clouded over as he straightened up and looked down at his gun. Turning slightly, he raised his arm and aimed at one of the other robbers. “Hey dude, what the hell?” The gun went off and the robber who had been shot let out a cry of pain. Hostages screamed as the gun went off a second time and ducked into what little cover they could find.

Jim flinched as gunshots rang out from the bank. The news camera flashed over to policemen carefully making their way towards the bank, guns ready.

“We just heard gunshots from inside the bank, Jim. We don’t know if any of the hostages have been harmed by that as of right now.”

Someone in the crown of worried or curious onlookers shouted to look up. The camera moved away from Jim and up to the roof, showing what looked to be a child in a uniform running across the roof.

“And now there’s some movement on the roof. We don’t know who it is Jim, but there’s a chance it might be more law enforcement officials.”

Henrik ran over the roof and crashed in through the skylight, dropping onto once of the robbers and throwing him out the front window.

Jim flinched again as the man crashed through the glass. “It looks like one of the armed robbers has been thrown out of the bank, Jim.”

Jackie made his entrance by running down the hall, “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives!” Jackie threw two of his blades, seemingly at Marvin and the robber he had rumored, but then the blades curved in mid-air, impaling yet another of the robbers and pinning him to the wall.

“I’ve been in many hostage situations like this Jim, and it can escalate very quickly. We still don’t know what’s going on in there, but right now all we can hope for is that the hostages remain unharmed by whatever is happening.”

The robber Marvin had rumored came out from the trance he’d been under and climbed onto one of the counters, pointing his gun at the three children in front of him, “Stay back. Get back you freaks! Get back now.”

“Hey, be careful up there buddy,” Jackie called up to the robber as Marvin agreed, “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Anti glitched into existence sitting on the counter behind the robber, “Or what?” Anti sounded annoyed, like this wasn’t the first time they’d gone on a mission. He glitched away again right before the robber pulled the trigger, shooting the spot where Anti had just been. The robber shot the spot four more times, probably out of spite, before turning to face Anti, who had glitched behind him.

“That’s a badass stapler.” Anti grinned at the robber and smashed the stapler into his face, knocking him down off the counter.

“Although there’s been no activity for quite a few moments, we’ll stay live on location to make sure we don’t miss anything about this Capital West bank hostage situation.”

JJ hesitated in front of the door to the vault. He glanced over to Jackie, silently hoping his brother would understand how much he didn’t want to do this.

“Come on JJ, you have to do this, there’s more guys in the vault.” Henrik crossed his arms and seemed to glare at JJ, waiting for his brother to do what he was there for. Jackie shrugged and made a shooing motion, like he was saying the faster you get it over with, the sooner we can leave.

JJ sighed heavily, turning to the vault door, one of his speech slides showing up behind him. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

The camera zoomed onto the entrance to the bank, where the hostages were running out.

“Oh- Now we see the hostages Jim. It looks like- they’re free. They’ve been freed. We can clearly see that hey are scared, but they do seem to be unharmed.”

Henrik and the other five watched as shadows and blood splattered on the glass. Marvin winced as the sound of bodies being torn and screams rang out from the vault room. It was over fairly quick, less than two minutes and JJ peeked back out from behind the door, drenched in blood. Taking a moment to collect himself, JJ’s slide popped up in front of him, “Can we go home now?”

Jack waltzed over from where he had been leaning against the wall and offered JJ his hand, leading the six of them outside towards the hordes of people waiting in front of the bank.

“And now Jim, as you can see, people are coming out of the bank right now. But it’s not the armed robbers, they appear to be young school children in uniforms. With masks on?”

Anti skipped out of the building like he’d just had the time of his life at a party while reporters and policemen alike shouted orders and questions at them.

“Who are you?”

“What happened?”

“How did you get in the bank?”

From a distant rooftop, Damian Hargreeves watched the crowd through a spyglass, vaguely satisfied with how the six had performed.

“Why can’t I go play with the others?” Chase stood next to his father, looking at the same place, but unable to see much.

“We’ve gone over this before, Number Seven.” Hargreeves snapped, never looking away from the bank, “There is nothing special about you. You cannot go on missions with the others. Ever.”

Chase looked away from his father, feeling oddly numb at the way Damian was so harshly matter-of-fact about his uselessness. “Okay.”

Damian collapsed his spyglass and went down to ground level so he could hand Chase off to Wilford and go address the reporters.

“The world is changing.” Damian began his speech standing in front of his children, “Has changed. There are some among us who are born with extraordinary abilities. I have adopted, six, such children.”

Behind Damian the six drew themselves taller and grinned at each other, enjoying the attention.

Damian brushed a hand down his coat, smoothing imaginary lines, “I present to you, the inaugural class, of the Septic Academy.”

As soon as Damian stepped away from the children, cameras flashed and reporters shoved their microphones towards him, shouting their channels.

“Mr. Hargreeves! Mr. Hargreeves! Jim News. What happened to their parents? Did any of them resist your attempts to adopt their child?”

Damian puffed his chest out, slightly put off the anyone would think he would forcibly take a child away from its mother. “They all gave me their children willingly and were suitably compensated for doing so.”

“Are you concerned for the well-fare of the children?”

“Of course! As I am, for the fate of the world.”

Cameras continued to flash as Damian answered a few more questions and finally led the children home, back to the academy.

[blueplanettrash]

Our Promises

I know this idea isn’t very original but I love the concept of it so much! It’s pre-kerberos shance (and Shiro doesn’t remember their relationship) and its one of my ideas that I had a storyline for since the end of like season 2. I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Early on in their adventure, Lance decided that living on the Castle ship was hard. Being in Voltron was hard. Others may have thought it was because their lives were in constant danger or the fact that they had to be away from their loved ones. For Lance, it was the exact opposite. He had someone that he loved on the team already. Except, he didn’t remember who he was.

When he saw Takashi being pulled out of that ship, it felt like there was light in his life again. He didn’t care that he was being guarded by members of the Garrison. He didn’t care that there was another person going in after him. All he cared about was getting his boyfriend out of that tent and back into his arms.

All he wanted to do when they were flying over the desert sand was cradle Takashi in his arms and never let go. He couldn’t though, they promised that they would decide when the time was right together. Besides, it wasn’t about him in that moment, all that mattered was getting away from the Garrison.

Still watching him while he was unconscious made him realize how much he missed the other man and how much it hurt when he was away. He had so many things to ask him, so much to talk about. His gaze had landed on his prosthetic arm with sad eyes and noticed that his promise ring was gone; the one that matched his own.

Takashi had given it to him the night before he left for Kerberos and slid it on his right hand.

“These are a promise that I will come back to you safely and when we reunite I want to switch them to our left hands for a new kind of promise,” he said when Lance asked for an explanation.

He wasn’t going to lie. He cried after Takashi had said that and clung to him for hours before he could let go. The months after that, every time he would hear about the Kerberos disaster or someone defaming Takashi, he would look down at his ring and try not to cry.

Just standing over him, seeing him in (relatively) one piece took the weight right off of his shoulders. He couldn’t wait for him to wake up and wrap him up in a hug.

“I should thank you all for getting me out. Lance, right?”

It was a complete punch to the gut. He couldn’t even move for a few seconds as he held out his hand for Lance to shake. This couldn’t be happening. After everything that they went through, after everything that they gave to each other. He didn’t remember who he was? He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around him and tell him who he was. Tell him how much he loved him. He couldn’t though. It wasn’t exactly like he could tell him that they were in a relationship when it seemed like he remembered everything else about his life.

With a small smile, he grasped Takashi’s hand.

That day, Takashi turned into Shiro.

Even though he convinced himself that everything was for the best, he never took off his ring. Considering that rings were really common among humans, none of the other paladins ever asked him about his ring. Allura and Coran however, were not too familiar with the concept since their jewelry seemed to be for translation purposes only.

“Someone very special gave it to me, and I hope that one day they’ll come back to me,” he said softly, gazing down fondly at it.

“I’m sure that you will Lance,” Allura said with a smile.

“Thanks, Allura but I’m not really sure about that,” Lance replied. Although he said it with a smile, she could see the sadness on his face.

It was strange to see the difference between this Shiro and the Takashi that he loved. He was more serious and withdrawn than before. He didn’t like to let anyone get very close to him, not even Keith from what he could tell. The biggest difference though; was the fact that Shiro didn’t really like him all that much.

At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, punishing him for not coming clean to Shiro the moment he woke up. Although, as the weeks passed, it was easy to tell. He was much harsher on Lance than anyone else, berating him for mistakes that he made that the others made as well. He would sigh at Lance’s suggestions and dismiss them without a thought. He even went out of his way to avoid the blue paladin when they weren’t doing training or going on a mission. Lance wasn’t one to take that though. Shiro didn’t know what he had given up for him and he wasn’t about to be treated this way because of it.

Much like the first time they met, Lance marched up to the black paladin after the rest of the group had left training and poked his finger into his chest. Startled, Shiro looked down to lock eyes with a fuming Lance.

“You listen to me and you listen well Takashi Shirogane because I’m going to say this once,” He started.

“Just because you think you have me all figured out doesn’t mean you can treat me like I don’t really matter. You know nothing about me or what I’m capable of. You don’t get to look down on me because you think that I’m not worth the time of day. I’m just as important as anybody else on this team and I expect for you to start acting like it. I have feelings too, it’s not something that I can just laugh off. The way I act out of uniform in no way reflects how I perform so start showing some simple decency,” with every point he would poke Shiro in the chest, making him wince and blink wide eyes down at him. By the end of it, he was looking down at the ground with an ashamed expression on his face. He glanced at Lance’s still angry face before averting his eyes again.

“You’re right Lance, I shouldn’t have just assumed things like that, I’m really sorry,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. Lance humphed and gave a single nod.

“Good, you’re forgiven, don’t let it happen again though,”

“This might be a weird thing to ask, but has this happened before?” Shiro hesitantly asked. Lance’s eyes snapped open.

“This is how we met Shiro,” he decided to answer truthfully. It's not like it would give anything away since they would have been in the Garrison together for years before the Kerberos mission.

“What? We met before?” He asked baffled. Lance laughed and nodded his head.

“Pretty much the exact same thing happened. You were a teaching assistant in one of my piloting courses and you didn’t think that I was taking the lessons seriously and that it wasn’t worth answering my questions or calling on me and stuff, I pretty much did the exact same thing as today,” he explained with a smile. Shiro blinked and put his hand up to his head in shock.

“You didn’t doubt me again after that,”

“Wow, I had no idea, I would definitely remember something like that though,” he said in shock.

“Shiro, you went through something incredibly traumatic, I’m not surprised that you lost some of your memories,” Lance said kindly, reaching up to put his hand on Shiro’s arm. He only nodded his head slightly and gave him a small smile.

“Well, I promise that I’ll be better from now on,”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said before he spun around and walked out of the door.

Shiro watched him go before looking down at his clenched hand. If he forgot something like that, what else was he missing? When he went through his memories, it didn’t seem like he was forgetting anything and he doubted that Lance would lie about something as trivial as meeting him before. He thought Lance looked familiar when he first woke up in Keith’s cabin and he didn’t really have an explanation as to why he knew Lance’s name before shaking his hand.

He let out a long sigh before leaving the training room. It wasn’t something that he had to worry about at the moment. All of the important things he remembered. Right?

It got much better after that. They were talking, working together, and becoming better friends. To Lance, it was almost like they were back in the Garrison, able to talk to each other about anything and goof around like they were little kids again. He tried so hard not to be hurt when he saw how close he and Allura were getting. He wasn’t sure whether they had feelings for each other or if they were just becoming better friends. It was the not knowing that really got to him. Shiro wasn’t giving any details either but the little blush he got whenever Lance teased him about it told the whole story.

He wasn’t about to get in the way either. He hadn’t told him not only because it would be hard to believe but also so he could get a do-over. This was his chance to find someone that was better for him. Someone that was better than Lance. He might know how he compared to the others on the team but when it came to their relationship, he knew that Shiro deserved better than some washed out ex-cargo pilot.

It all came to head when Pidge brought Matt back with her. He was different; taller and scarred but he still had the same wide friendly smile on his face. When she radioed in that she had gotten back and requested that they meet in the lounge, he expected to see some kind of lead to where Matt or Sam was. He didn’t expect to see Matt in the middle of hugging Shiro. His jaw dropped as a near-silent gasp escaped his throat. At the sound, Matt’s eyes slid to him and they widened.

“Lance?” He asked in shock. “Oh my god! Lance!” He cried in joy, escaping from Shiro and running over to Lance to engulf him in a hug.

“Matt, holy shit,” he said quietly, clutching on to the back of his clothes. Matt was the only one that knew about them at the Garrison and they became very good friends because of it. He didn’t think that he would ever get to see him again.

“I didn’t know you knew each other, how did you guys meet?” Shiro asked coming to stand beside them.

“Ha ha, very funny Shiro,” Matt smiled releasing Lance and ruffling his hair.

“Um, what?” Shiro asked in confusion. Matt’s grin faded as he stared at Shiro.

“Do you not remember?” He asked as his forehead creased. Shiro only blinked in response, not sure what to reply.

“Oh my god, you don’t remember do you?” He looked over at Lance for confirmation. He only shook his head sadly while Matt let out a small gasp.

“What are you talking about? What don’t I remember?” He asked frantically looking between the two of them.

“One of the rebels gave this to me, in case I ever saw the “Champion” again, maybe it will help,” he suggested solemnly, pulling something out of his pouch and placing it in Shiro’s hand. Shiro looked down and his eyes widened. The ring was exactly the same as the one around Lance’s finger except for the size. He looked up, meeting Lance’s eyes and saw them swimming with tears.

“No,” he muttered in disbelief. He saw Lance’s eyebrows furrow in hurt confusion.

“NO!” he repeated louder before running from the lounge, the sound of several voices calling out his name followed behind him, Lance’s louder than all of the others. He wasn’t sure how long he ran before he was stopped by a strong hand. He looked back as he was wrenched to a stop and saw Coran standing with a concerned expression on his face.

“Coran! You have to help me! I need to remember!” He said frantically latching onto Coran’s shirt.

“Are you sure? Those memories might be damaging to your psyche,” he said in concern. Shiro shook his head.

“Please! I’m missing so much!” He cried. His head curled toward’s Coran’s chest as tears rolled over his nose. Coran’s expression softened and he reached up to hug Shiro’s head to his chest.

“Alright my boy, we’ll see what we can do,” he agreed before escorting him to the med bay and having him sit down on one of the beds. As Coran rooted around, Shiro tried to wipe away his tears. He didn’t know what to do, he was so confused. He looked down at the ring still in his hand. He always thought that the ring Lance wore was familiar to him but to know that he was the person that gave it to him, that was something else entirely.

He looked up when he heard Coran stop in front of him. He held out one of the mind meld headbands out to him. He took it with a look of confusion but didn’t ask any questions.

“Its a different type of mind meld, it boosts your ability to remember previously repressed memories,” Coran explained pulling up a holoscreen beside the bed. Shiro nodded and pulled it over his forehead.

“If at any time you become uncomfortable or you need to take a break just press this button,” he instructed pushing a hologram closer to Shiro.

“You’re not staying?” He asked sounding incredibly young to his own ears.

“I’ll be right outside when you’re finished, call me if you run into trouble,” he said softly before walking outside. Shiro stared at the door before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, it looked like he traveled back to Black’s mindscape again.

“Okay, let's do this,” he muttered to himself. He opened his hand to make sure that he still had it, but his eyes started travelling along the metal of it instead.

“LET ME GO!” A voice screamed. His head whipped up and he scuttled back at the scene in front of him. No. He didn’t want to remember this.

“Do did this when you threw the fight Champion, you’re lucky that Zarkon is letting you live,” Haggar hissed as one of the druid’s knives started carving through the flesh of his arm. His agonized screams echoed loudly in his mind and he could only focus on the changing expressions on his face. His hands came up to cover his ears as the screaming grew louder. With a dull thump, the noise came to a stop and he looked up again.

His body laid limply on the cot and he stared blankly at the ceiling above him. He didn’t realize how dead he looked while he was captured. He looked like he was about to give up and keel over right then. He saw his eyes slide down to look at the floor where his arm was laying on the floor. Its like they left it there to taunt him. Even as he stared at the limb his eyes seemed to light up slightly and he started pushing himself up weakly. Confused, Shiro looked at the limb as well and noticed the ring glinting slightly in the dim light of the room. He flopped to the floor and struggled to take the ring off of the finger. He felt like fainting. It was like he was in somebody else’s body. He held the ring tightly to his chest and curled up on his side.

“I’ll come back to you,” he promised before letting out a loud sob and he burst into tears.

Shiro backed away from the scene and froze when he bumped into something. He turned slightly and froze when the face of one of his past opponents growled in his face. He jumped back and suddenly the sound of a roaring crowd filled his ears. He frantically looked around himself. He was back in the arena.

The creature in front of him let out a loud roar and swiped it’s claws at him. He stumbled back clutching at the bridge of his nose. It had cut straight through the cartilage. He jumped to his feet and started running, hearing and feeling the loud, heavy stomps follow behind him.

He had almost died because of this fight. He was the closest to giving up during this fight. This fight is what gave him his white hair.

Tears rushed down his face as terror overcame him. He could hear the jeers in the audience. The loud growls and roars that came from the monster behind him. His own heartbeat echoing in his ears as he ran for his life. His lungs burned with the effort to keep running; he knew that if he stopped his legs would give out from underneath him and he would be killed instantly.

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” he started chanting, gasping for air between words. This was a mistake, he couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have asked Coran for help. His hand reached towards the panic button.

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” he sobbed, clenching his eyes shut.

“You can do it, babe!” He froze at the cheerful voice. When he opened his eyes, everything was white. He slowly turned around and there they were. Him and Lance; sitting on the couch in his quarters at the Garrison, playing on his game system. Lance was leaning against his shoulder, cheering him on as he fought against a boss.

“Thanks, beautiful,” he chuckled as he delivered the final hit. Lance let out a cheer and wrapped his arms around his waist. He let out a laugh and turned towards it and buried his face in Lance’s hair with a sigh of happiness.

“I love you Takashi,” Lance smiled, his face popping up to face his. He passed the controller over to Lance and wrapped his arm around his waist to keep him close to his side.

“I love you too Lance,”

At that admission, everything rushed into his head. Their first date after he had found Lance sneaking out to town after curfew, their first kiss in a small café on the outskirts of town where no one knew who they were, their tearful goodbyes when they went home for their breaks. Every pet name, every tear, every sleepless night, every good and bad day they’ve ever had, came back to him.

His hands came up to cover his eyes as tears rolled down his cheeks. How could he have forgotten someone like Lance? How could he have forgotten someone that means so much to him?

His hand reached out and pushed down on the panic button. With a jolt, he was back sitting on the med bay’s bed like none of it was real. The tears on his face were real though, and the new warmth in his heart was as well. He pulled the headband off of his head in a rush and threw it down on the bed. He almost fell as he flew out of the med bay, nearly running over Coran in his haste to get to the lounge.

“Lance!” He cried as he burst in. He looked around wildly, it seemed that nobody left since he ran out of the room. His eyes landed on the teen, who was peeking out at him from where he was in Matt’s arms. He stumbled over to him, tears still falling freely from his eyes and collapsed to his knees in front of him. His arms lifted up to wrap around his legs and hug them to his chest.

“I’m so sorry Lance, I can’t believe I forgot you, I’m the worst person in the whole galaxy,” he sobbed looking up at Lance. With a wail, Lance joined him on the floor and cuddled into his chest. They didn’t notice Matt motion for the others to follow him out, too wrapped up in each other.

“I love you so much,” he cried nuzzling into Lance’s hair.

“I love you too,” Lance pressed his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck, slowly breathing in and out. After a few minutes, Lance pulled away and took Shiro’s face in his hands.

“God I’ve missed your ugly crying face,” Lance said giving him a wobbling smile. Shiro let out a watery chuckle.

“Yeah, it's not fair that you’re beautiful even when you’re crying,” Lance’s face turned red and he quickly hid his face in Shiro’s shoulder.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?” He asked peeking his head up to Shiro.

“Will you let me keep my promise?” He asked.

“Wha-?” He started, pulling away from his shoulder when his eyes caught on the ring Shiro was holding up between his fingers.

“Really?” He asked in amazement, staring into Shiro’s eyes.

“Of course,” was all he said before he was taking off Lance’s ring and holding up his left hand instead. With a final nod from Lance, he slipped it onto his ring finger. He brought the hand up to his lips and laid a kiss on his knuckles. Lance could feel Shiro’s tears on his skin as they continued to slip of his cheeks.

“Give me your ring,” he said holding his hand out for it. He dropped it in Lance’s palm and let him slip it onto his finger.

“These rings aren’t just a promise for our future anymore,” Lance stated holding Shiro’s hand in both of his. “These are a reminder of our resilience and what we overcame in order to be together again,”

Shiro silently nodded and curled into himself. Lance’s arms protectively went around him as Shiro’s head pushed against his chest.

“I got you, babe, I’m here for you,” he said quietly rubbing up and down Shiro’s back. They stayed curled up on the floor of the lounge for hours, just content to be back in each other’s arms.

That day Shiro turned back to Takashi.

Stories Masterlist

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Hearts of Steel (ch. 1 of 3)

Len heads back to his Earth, temporarily, with Sara by his side. But fixing what he'd left behind won't be easy, and sometimes the idea of "home" is more complicated than it seems.

This will be the last story in this series, with this version of Leonard Snart, for a while. I hope you've enjoyed it. I have!

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta. There will be three parts, but all three are already done and beta'd. Can also be read here at AO3.

Now he’s stronger than you know A heart of steel starts to grow

(“Superheroes,” The Script)

“Are you sure I need to wear this?” Sara stares into the mirror, inspecting the white domino mask that covers part of her face. It’s simple and fits perfectly, just like her White Canary outfit, but she hasn’t worn a mask since…well, before she died. The first time.

Len appears besides her, and they both regard their reflections. He’s in his full uniform, the one he’d been wearing way back when they’d found him, the sleeveless black jumpsuit and the white and blue hooded, sleeveless jacket over it. He also has a metallic blue mask much like her white one, and two pairs of blue eyes met in the mirror in silent understanding.

“You can do away with it if you want,” Len tells her, earning a yelp of protest from Cisco Ramon, who’d designed said mask and is waiting nearby for the right moment to use his breaching talents and send them over to Len’s Earth. “But just because I’m not aware of a doppelgänger of you on my Earth doesn’t mean there isn’t one. And if she’s a civilian…”

“Yeah. Let’s not mess things up for her. If she exists.” Sara eyes him. “People pay that much attention?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Len steps away from the mirror with a sigh. “Especially with the Justice League, there are people who devote waaayyyy too much time and effort to following the usual slate of heroes. Blogs, social media, the whole nine yards. They see a newcomer, ‘specially one as…ah, notable as you, your pic’s gonna end up out there.”

He shrugs, adjusting his own mask. “It draws attention, but it’s protective coloration, in a way. People don’t look past the outfit. And once you’ve…hmm…changed your narrative, people tend to buy into it. They look at you as a story, not a person.”

He sounds almost unsettled, despite the assurances, and Sara draws closer again, thinking about what she knows about his life on his Earth.

“Aw, Len, do you have Cold groupies?” she teases gently, trying to draw him out of the mood. “Girls wearing goggles and trying to take selfies with you?”

That earns her a smirk. “And guys,” he drawls. “I’m an equal opportunity hero.”

Sara snorts. “I bet.”

“All right, people.” They’re interrupted by Wells, who strides into the room with Caitlin and Barry. “We’re good to go here. Mr. Snart? Let me fill you in on these.”

Len sets his shoulders and turns to face the trio as Cisco moves over to join them. Sara, turning with him, studies them too.

Caitlin winks at her, but Wells is already proceeding, reaching into his pocket to pull out…an ordinary pharmaceutical bottle.

Len frowns at it. “This is…”

“I told you we were working on using nanites to target the alien—by which I mean, strange, not extraterrestrial—parts of the DNA,” Caitlin tells him.

“The tech is in these capsules.” Wells gives the bottle a shake. It rattles. “They just need to swallow one. It will take a little time—not too long, but not immediate—and there may be unpleasant side effects while it works, but it will work.”

Len stares at the bottle, then lets out a gusty sigh, reaching out to take it with a muttered and fervent “thank you.” Wells lets go, an understanding look very briefly flickering over his face as he nods.

“There are three in there,” he tells Len. “I know you said you didn’t want one. But…just in case.”

Len regards the bottle another moment, then nods, pocketing it. Then he glances at Sara. “So. I guess it’s time to go.”

Sara nods, turning to look around, as if the team had somehow managed to sneak in behind them. “It seems weird not to have the others here. I thought they’d…well.”

She’d actually declared a vacation for the Legends while they’d waited for Wells and Caitlin to work out the puzzle, and the team had scattered, at least somewhat. (Sara and Len had mostly stayed on the ship, except for working with Team Flash and meeting up with Sara’s mother, which had been memorable.) Sara knows that Ray and Nate had gone back to Star City for at least a few days, and Jax and Martin are with their families here. Mick and Amaya had hung around with Len and Sara, for a bit—Sara, amused, doesn’t mention the words “double-date”—but they’ve vanished too.

She hoped they’d be back in time for this. She’d called the team’s phones, with no luck, but they hadn’t had a ton of notice, and there’s no point in waiting. Still…

“Boss!”

Both Sara and Len turn, then give each other wry smiles as they notice the other’s reaction. Then they watch Mick as he saunters into the room, Amaya with him.

“Were you talking to me or him?” Sara asks her unofficial second with amusement as he stops in front of her.

“Yes.” Mick smirks at her, then looks at Len. “Sorry. Rest of the team, they didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. So. Said I’d, uh…what’d Haircut say? Yeah, ‘convey their well-wishes.” He nods, looking satisfied, then glancing at Amaya and back at Len.

“Won’t say ‘be careful,’ ‘cause I know you won’t, but…” He hesitates. “Eh. Don’t let me…him…oh hell, whatever, you get it. Don’t let him shove you around. From what you said, he’s pretty much me at a… certain part of my life. Angry at the world.” He glances at Amaya again. “Doesn’t know there’s…more. Doesn’t think it’s for him if he does. Hope you can tell ‘im otherwise.”

It’s incredibly eloquent for Mick, who Len knows struggles with words sometimes even though he’s far smarter than most people give him credit for. He nods, then reaches out to grasp the other man’s arm, a brief gesture that’s still a departure for them. Micks nods back, once, then turns to Sara.

Len eyes Amaya, who smiles back at him. He likes her, this woman out of time, though he’s neglected to tell her that he’s also met (and flirted with) her granddaughter from his Earth.

“Godspeed,” she tells him. “And come back soon and safe.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Mick and Sara have now finished saying whatever they had to say to each other, and Sara and Len lock eyes, then turn, taking in the sight of the bemused Team Flash watching them all.

“This,” Cisco breathes, “is weird.”

Barry’s grinning, though. “You guys be safe,” he adds. “Say hi to my doppelgänger.”

“He ain’t much like you. But if I see him…” Len’s more likely to snark and sass, and they both know it. “Well. Something like that.”

Cisco claps his hands together briskly then. “OK, well, as utterly bizarre—and weirdly entertaining--as it is to witness all these…feelings…from people who once tried to kill me, sort of, I think it’s time to get this show on the road. Ready?”

“Sorry, Nerd Boy,” Mick rumbles at him, even at Len and Sara glance at each other again.

“Let’s go,” Len says with a sigh, then scans the room. “Ah. I don’t…I’m not…just…” He shrugs again. “Thank you all.”

Among the murmured chorus of “welcomes,” Cisco raises his hands and the air…splits.

“I’ll open it again in 12 hours,” he tells them. “And then every hour on the hour after until it hits a full day.”

“After that,” Mick informs them then, arms crossed and an expression that says he won’t be countermanded on this, not by either “boss,” “we come looking for you.”

Sara and Len exchange a look—presumably both imaging the kind of chaos that could cause—but don’t argue. If it goes that long, Len knows, they’ll need the help.

When the breach is big enough to admit two people, Cisco nods to them, and Len takes a deep breath, looking at Sara. He thinks about reaching out to take her hand, but something stops him. It’s one thing to kiss her in front of the massed teams here, but he doesn’t know precisely where they’ll be breaching into on his Earth, and he doesn’t want to make her a target…

So, instead, he just nods to her, and heads for the breach, not looking back.

The first thing Sara thinks about Len’s Earth is that the light looks different. The light and the colors; they seem somehow brighter, and for the first few minutes, everything seems a little…flat. But she blinks and it’s back to her normal, and her eyes quickly grow accustomed to the light.

They’ve emerged in what seems to be an ordinary alley, and there’s no one else around. Sara glances at Len and sees him staring up at the sky, just visible through the taller buildings around them.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, the man in question lowers his own gaze and regards her. He looks unsettled…a strange mix of glad and worried. Sara holds the gaze, trying to convey support, then speaks.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” she asks quietly.

Len visibly shakes his distraction off. “Not precisely. Will, though. All I need is a better look.” He squares his shoulders, then heads for the place where the alley opens to the street. Sara follows.

Not so far from city center. It seems vaguely odd to just about see the city map unfolding in his head, given that the other Central City is different in so many ways big and small, and Len takes a deep breath, reminding himself that although so many things about this place feel like home, he’s leaving. He’s going back to Sara’s Earth. He’s…

He’s home?

It’s in his blood and his bones, apparently, and won’t be shaken as easily as he’d thought. Len takes another deep and shaky breath, hoping Sara doesn’t notice (let’s be honest, Sara almost certainly notices) and bends his brain to their best plan of attack.

Not that they’ll attack. They’ll almost certainly be defending.

Oh, holy hell, he doesn’t want to face Lisa.

“We’re actually in the right quadrant of the city,” he tells Sara, who’s studying her surroundings with an intent expression and letting him struggle with his thoughts. “Up for a walk? I’m sure my bike is long gone anyway and though we could take public transportation, I’d rather not deal with the hassle.”

Sara’s lips twitch as if at the thought. “Certainly. We should probably check the date.” She hesitates, studying him. “Cisco did say time runs differently on some Earths.”

He’s been trying not to think about that. Ramon had also said he didn’t think this was one of them, but…

“We’ll find a newsstand. Otherwise, best to stick to the back streets, the alleys…”

“The rooftops?” Sara’s voice is wry. She knows he’s not fond of heights, and they’ve squabbled good-naturedly about the value of the heights for either heroes or villains…or Rogues.

“Yeah, yeah.” Len takes another deep breath and nods. “OK, if we somehow get separated…get directions for the intersection of Samuel Street and James Place. There’s a diner there called the Ice Box; I’ll find you.”

“Let’s go.”

A newspaper honor box gives them proof that time here runs just the same as time back on Earth-1. Sara can see Len sigh in relief as he scans the headlines, then glance at her before turning away.

She’s pretty sure he’s finding it more difficult to reconcile his feelings about being back here with his desire to leave than he expected. She gets it, really. Like her and Nanda Parbat, sometimes a place calls to you even though you know it’s not the best thing for you, especially when it was home for years.

She just hopes he doesn’t have second thoughts.

It’s a little surreal to see Len stalking along in his full Earth-52 Captain Cold get-up, but he’d been completely correct. People turn to watch him—them—go, some pulling out cell phones and snapping photos, talking eagerly, loudly enough that Sara can hear their surprise and excitement, if not the precise words beyond “Captain Cold”… and “woman in white.”

She’s an unknown quantity—and probably a valuable one in the currency of information. She ignores the peanut gallery, staying at Len’s side, and eventually he looks at her with a speaking glance, one she returns in understanding.

Time to go underground—figuratively, anyway.

In unison, they both turn off the main roadway into an alleyway, Len leading the way around a corner before their interested audience can follow. He ducks into an alcove with Sara at his heels, and they wait there for a few moments to shake any civilian pursuers before Len steps back out and over to a door across the way.

Well, he can pick locks just as well as Earth-1 Snart. Sara smirks as Len eases the door open in the span of a minute, then follows him into the dark space within, scanning the room as he shuts and locks the door behind them.

Abandoned office building, she guesses. The windows are boarded up, but the dark shapes of desks are still visible in the gloom, a classic cubicle farm redolent of boredom and irritation.

“Len,” she whispers. “What’s up with the ‘Office Space’ set here?”

He sighs, eyeing her as he turns away from the door. “To the right,” is all he says. “Up the stairs.”

“Ahhhh. Rooftops after all.”

“Something like.”

Precisely like, actually. Len’s no roof-runner, not like some heroes he knows, but he also knows the value of changing up their location—whether or not he’ll admit that to Sara since it became a sort of longstanding joke between them.

Not long later, they emerge on the top of the building. Len relocks the door behind them and leads Sara toward the edge. Fortunately for him, though, the buildings in this particular block are so close together that there’s no leaping from site to site…just a bit of climbing and careful navigation. They traverse that set of buildings, then move kitty-corner to another, continuing for another bit until Len drops onto a fire escape, making his way toward the ground.

It’s not nearly so nice an area now. They’re more on the outskirts of the city, not so far from a mostly defunct industrial complex near the river, a complex gradually abandoned as water traffic became less important to the movement of goods throughout the country. Although it’s nearing noon now, there aren’t many people around, and the ones that are minding their own business.

It’s just that kind of area.

Len looks swiftly around once he alights, then ducks over to hug the wall, walking quickly toward the industrial area. Sara is at his heels, and he knows she’s watching his back as he skirts the complex, gradually moving inward, building to building, following the map in his memory.

If they’ve abandoned this safehouse/base…well, Len has more options in mind, a mental list of places he himself set up over the years. He’s relatively sure Mick and Lisa would stick together, united in their challenges—and their hatred of him.

And beyond that, he knows them well enough that he can, he thinks, put together the puzzle and track them down, especially if he deigns to ask for help. But that will take longer, and Sara needs to go back to her Earth and her home, and he…he doesn’t really want to be without her, even briefly.

Startling thought. They’re not joined at the hip, or anything. That's silly. But together, they’re stronger, better, more balanced, a team within a team in so many aspects. Enough so that's he even speculated on...well, seeing if she'd like to formalize that partnership someday, which is even more startling a thought.

But there's no time for such thoughts now. They're approaching the warehouse/safehouse he's deemed the most likely to be Lisa and Mick's base. And the greeting is not likely to be friendly.

Sara can feel the rising tension in Len as they move farther into the complex. Well…it’s understandable, and frankly, she’s not immune. This Earth’s Mick Rory and Lisa Snart have some truly scary abilities, and they won’t look kindly on Len or, she’s pretty sure, anyone with him. At least, not until he tells them his news.

Maybe not even then. Sara might not have a college degree, but she’s been around enough to learn a thing or two about human nature.

The area is deserted, now, silent except for the faint sweep of the breeze and the cries of gulls and sounds of boat engines from the waterfront not so far away. Sara can smell water both moving and standing, that indefinable mix of something crisp and fresh and something ever so slightly rotten, and the whiff of oil and other industrial material once used here. The colors around her flicker and go flat, bright, again briefly as she tails Len through the light and shadow, and she shakes her head, frowning.

After pausing in the shadow of the entry to another cluster of buildings, Len sighs nearly inaudibly and glances at her. He doesn’t have to speak aloud to tell her they may be close. High alert.

Sara nods. They’ve discussed plans already, but they both know that plans rarely survive the first engagement with the…the enemy.

She watches his back as Len pops the massive lock on a door fairly easily (while shaking his head in disapproval) and follows as he moves silently into the building, closing the heavy door behind them. The doorway isn’t the main entry to whatever business had once been housed here, just a rear entrance that leads to what seems to be a small receiving room, and the windows are boarded up, leaving the space in shadow.

But…Sara takes a breath, then a deeper one. There’s not as much dust in the air as she’d think.

Len studies the room but ignores the two closed doors that seems to lead deeper into the complex on this floor. Instead, he steps toward one labeled as a stairwell, looking back to catch Sara’s eye.

She’s in this for better or worse. She nods back, falling into step with him, as they quietly head through the door and then downward, stepping carefully on the dark stairs.

The stairwell goes down two flights, and Len ignores the doorway at the first sublevel and carefully opens the door at the second. The space is now truly dark. Sara’s eyes have become accustomed to the darkness, but it’s still hard to see and she’s not comfortable with the lack of information. She pauses a moment, watching Len, trying to convey that.

He pauses, too, then breathes, “Gotta pass through one more space before I can hit some lights—used to be a cubicle farm for some of the office types. No windows equals less distraction, I guess.” He shakes his head. “And people wonder why I became a crook.”

Sara smirks as she studies him, then nods. Len pushes open the door, and they step through.

It’s not the maze of desks and dividers she expects, though. She gets the impression of a large open space without much cluttering it, even darker than she expected. Len takes another step, then stops.

“Different,” he mutters, and Sara can hear the frown in his voice. He takes another step, then another, and Sara moves closer so they can watch each other’s backs. She draws in a breath, frowning too, then another, swearing she smells the faintest trace of cooking meat.

And a whiff of…

Smoke.

Everything happens at once, then, in the roar of flame and the crackle of ice. Sara gets one good look at this Earth’s Mick Rory as the flames surge and Len steps up, raising his hands to send a responding wave of ice to meet them—but then she drops to the ground and rolls away as the men start yelling at each other, indistinct profanity and deprecations from Mick, attempts at explanation from Len.

Len can handle himself. But if Mick’s here, there’s likely to be someone else as well, and someone needs to watch for her or this whole thing might end quickly, and very badly indeed.

As fire meets ice, steam roils out, and the room gets even harder to see in than before. Sara, glad for her newer boots (which offer improved footing on more than just ice), moves farther away from the elemental battle, listening intently, shaking her collapsed bo out of her sleeve, extending it and then separating it into the two shorter staffs.

Then she closes her eyes, holds her breath and…

There.

Sara ducks, whirls, and brings up a staff to block rather than attack. The steamy air churns around her, and she hears, under everything, a whisper of female laughter, a sound that’s, well, none too sane.

Is there a way of getting through? Sara takes another deep breath, putting her back toward the wall again, lowering the staff a little.

“Lisa,” she says in an intense tone, pitching her voice to be heard even through the chaos. “We’re here to help you. Your brother…he…”

But those words are apparently not the right ones. The whisper of laughter rises into a howl of anger, and Sara ducks and whirls and moves again, blocking, and this time there’s a metallic noise as something connects with her staff.

There are words, in the howl. They might be: “He did this!” They might not.

Sara responds, however, like they were. “He didn’t mean what happened!’ she cries, moving into a guard position again. “He screwed up. Big time. But he’s been looking and looking for a way to help you and…”

Duck, move, block.

“…and we have one. We have one, Lisa. We can help.”

But then the noises behind her change, the rush of ice and the rage of fire muting, and it’s a stupid move, a rookie move, but Sara glances back to make sure Len’s OK, then back in the fraction of a second, long enough for a hand to emerge from the seething, fading steam, heading straight for her.

And then Len’s there, in front of her, and the golden fingers stop a millimeter, no more, from his face. Their owner steps forward.

And Sara gets her first clear look at what’s become of Lisa Snart.

Who calls herself, now and on this Earth, Lady Midas.

[nathanielwessninski]

AU!Football (Aareil!Andreil), Part 1.

I feel quite angry because yesterday I spent hours writing pieces of this, so that suddenly the light goes out in my urbanization and EVERYTHING I wrote is erased. fuckin 'shit. Now, again, I come back to this because it really is an idea that has not left me alone all day yesterday (and today). In itself, it is an AU in which instead of the Foxes being an Exy team, they are now Football, except Neil, who will now be a Vixen.

This will be like a light introduction to the characters.

Here the sport of Football is mixed, so the alignment will be the same as in the canon, except that Neil will be a cheerleader and Seth will be alive and occupy his 'position'.

Kevin will continue to be an obsessive sportsman who plays with an injury to his left hand (because of Riko), but will recover. Seth is less asshole here, because I admit that a certain part of me liked the character and I want to give it a try, but it will still have its sassy bitch side (not really homophobic).

(Seth and Allison are not in relationship romantic here, but they are best friends; Renee and Allison are girlfriends).

(The Moriyama here are not any kind of mafia or anything like that, only a high-ranking business family; and Riko is just a jerk. Do not worry).

Allison and Dan are still wild and loyal to theirs, and with Renee shutting the fucking mouths of all those who still think that a girl can not play a contact sport as well as a guy.

Matt and Nicky are smiling and adorable as always, but protective of their family. Andrew is a little less aggressive than usual with the Foxes (God bless you, Betsy Dobson), but an imbecile with sociopathic instincts as always; is a little closer to them and can engage in small conversations when the Foxes aren't being intrusive (Renee helped a lot to get to this type of 'truce'), and on RARE occasions defended the fools when someone tried to pass with them.

Aaron does change here a little more than the others did, it's something more closed than before in terms of his thoughts and feelings, but he considers the Foxes the true family he never had, although it took a lot to reach this understanding (Nicky , Renee and Betsy fought a lot for this); he is among the first to jump to defend them, although he is usually a asshole with them.

Another radical change is found in the fact that Aaron never sent a letter to Andrew, so they never met or knew of each other's existence until a slightly funny situation occurred at the University; It was something like Nicky strongly confusing Andrew with Aaron, which brought many questions that had no answers until they reunited the twins in the same room (along with a broad search in the family registry and a blood test).

Andrew had just transferred to PSU to continue his career in Criminal Justice, due to certain complications (he savagely beat a professor who tried to hurt Bee) at his previous University; To say that he was stupefied by such a finding would be bullshit, he really expected a strange shit like that of his sanguine 'family', not that he cared more, actually. What he was curious about, with a simple transfer of universities, he had just discovered that he had a twin and a cousin.

At first he stayed away from them as much as he could, he did not care a bit, he just focused on his classes and visiting Bee in his new office (she got a new job at PSU as a psychologist for his athletes).

Until she confused Andrew with Aaron when coach Wymack led his team to meet before her and decide what day it was for each of them to have a session with her. From there she advised Andrew a lot about how well it could make him try to know and approach this part of his family that he did not know, and that they seemed to be alone (besides the Foxes).

It was a complicated and lengthy process that Andrew and Aaron could engage in a long conversation, without monosyllables or sharp and sarcastic answers. From there they were able to reconstruct a bit of family history: Tilda gave both twins up for adoption, only to finally repent a bit and take one of them (Aaron) before finalizing the paperwork, Andrew went to the Foster System (and then to Juvie for his problematic attitude) and Aaron stayed to live with an abusive mother for years (not that Andrew was better in the foster homes), until he met Nicky and after his mother died of an overdose (and a strong argument between Nicky and Luther Hemmick in which the minor finally cut off all relationship with them), Nicky took Aaron's custody (with the help of another distant relative who did not agree with the method of raising of the Hemmick).

Andrew suffered physical and psychological abuse in the homes to which he was given, but was only sexually abused once by Drake Spear when he was thirteen, one year after he was adopted by that family; but on that occasion Drake was caught in the act by the very Cass Spear, who called the police directly.

Destroyed for having failed a child as wonderful and amazing as Andrew was, she moved some contacts to move Andrew to an adoption and help institute where a distant friend of Richard Spear, Betsy Dobson, worked as a psychologist. (And after two years of understanding, fighting and love, Andrew let Betsy finally adopt him).

So, now both twins and cousin are in the process of approaching with help from Betsy (poor of her, with Andrew antagonizing everyone, Aaron being scathing and Nicky very gaudy).

A few months later, and all three of them maintaining a more civilized relationship, Andrew was slightly coerced by Bee (again) to join the football team (which was a fucking trick because Betsy knows there are VERY few things that Andrew can deny her).

(At times, Aaron admits to himself that he feels somewhat jealous of Bee's close and loving way of being with Andrew; he would have loved to have someone like her nearby).

Andrew's expressionless face and slightly psychopathic behavior constantly intimidates the Foxes a bit (except Renee and Wymack, and sometimes Allison), but over time they get used to it.

Aaron does not even like football, but he was violently harassed by sportobsession!Kevin Day to be part of the team after having seen him wildly tackling a son of a bitch who tried to touch Neil Josten (And Nicky happily joined the team to not be alone).

Aaron have a thing with Neil Josten, everyone knows it (except Andrew, because he don't know about Josten).

The day that Andrew Minyard met Neil Josten was fucking memorable for Allison: it was on a type of team-building weekend organized by Dan and Wymack, that they somehow managed to reunite everyone including the twins and Seth (Bee and Abby were really happy).

Then as the day progressed and the afternoon fell, they decided to make a movie marathon in Abby's living room, but before they needed to recharge supplies, so Wymack asked Renee and Allison to take care of it; somehow the trip was joined by Andrew and Seth.

They arrived at 7/11 and set out to collect different types of snacks for everyone; then in one of the corridors Allison spotted a very familiar auburn hair, let out a small squeak of joy and ran over there, alerting Andrew and Renee that they thought there was some threat, only to see the blonde hugging wildly to a short guy.

After leaving the mysterious boy and letting him breathe, Seth also approached and released a sassy comment: 'look just who is here, if it is other than a whore vixen smartass'.

Before any Fox could say anything else, the unknown boy (for Andrew and Renee) counterattacked: 'what's up, drug addict? Have not you received your daily dose, that I notice you something cranky?’

Surprisingly, Seth only grined sideways and stretched out a hand to stir the hair of the boy under: 'how did you do in the competition, midget?'

The auburn boy reply to Seth: 'of course we won, Gordon; nobody compares to us, so I hope you Foxes do not leave us in bad during the season'.

In that Allison jumps and assures with conviction: 'clearly this is our season, Josten, we have two new members who are monsters in the field when they want; we will destroy the asshole of Riko'.

Josten only gave a small laugh at that and nodded in support; and that sound really caught Andrew's attention, that he looked up from the candy shelf to finally see the one who seemed to be friends with Gordon and Reynolds, being stunned.

'Shit,' was the first thought that went through Andrew's mind, followed by 'fucking gorgeous' and 'problem': in front of him was a boy a few inches taller than him, with auburn hair and impossibly blue eyes, like celestial ones. Beautiful. His left cheek had a slight pink burn of three circles, barely visible, and on his right he had three fine cuts; However, not a single one of those scars left any kind of beauty, not even remotely. Even though Andrew's face remained expressionless, an intense blush was staying on his cheeks as he detailed the impressive boy in front of him; he never had seen someone so painfully attractive like Josten.

Allison noticed it (Renee too, but she did not anything).

The blonde took the Vixen's forearm and pulled him closer to the group saying: 'Oh, right! You do not know Renee or Minyard, personally; You never could meet to meet my Renee and Minyard arrived when you were in the competition. Babe, Monster, he's Neil Josten, sub-captain of the Vixens.'

Renee introduced herself and greeted him kindly, curious about the times when his girlfriend talked to him about this boy, Andrew only blushed a little more when Neil looked directly at him but swerved off with a cutting: 'Cheerleader, really?'

Before Allison spoke, Neil responded quickly and sharp: 'What, I do not look like that? Then you'll have to excuse me, I forgot to put on my uniform skirt for you.'

The right corner of Andrew's mouth trembled (the closest thing to a smile that Renee had seen in him): 'so sassy, Vixen.'

A grin formed on Neil's lips: 'so, Andrew Minyard, I could say it's a pleasure to finally meet Aaron's twin, I've heard a lot of things from you'.

Andrew like: 'I bet were not good at all'.

Another short laugh came from Neil's lips: 'no, they were not, but they're still interesting'.

A thought was shared among the other three present in the scene, something like 'fucking weird flirting' (being kinder in Renee's head).

Andrew may only want to kick himself when he felt so trapped looking at Neil's fluffy lips.

[roseonhissleeve]

Kiwi: Part Two

A little mini-series based in Jamaica during the writing/recording of Harry’s new album. Enjoy. x

The next day, Calliope woke up at one in the afternoon.

Going off of a full nine hours of sleep, she hopped out of her twin sized bed and brushed her teeth, running a careless hand through her cropped locks and setting off for a jog along the beach.

When Cal first arrived in Jamaica, she was looking for places to stay on the tourist side of the island. But not only was it easily five times as expensive as living where she was now, it was crowded and loud. The first morning she went for a run she had to stop about seven times to take group pictures and be asked for directions by families of five or more. It wasn’t until she started befriending the locals that she even knew there was a quiet place on the island.

Now, she could go for runs every day and she was rarely ever interrupted. Her life in Jamaica consisted mainly of three things: running, surfing, and working at the bar. The bar was owned by a tall Jamaican man whose nickname was Pipo, and whom she’d met close to when she arrived. She began to frequent it during the lunch shift, and when she did she spoke to Pipo every day about her life back home. One day when he found out that she was unemployed he offered her a job on the spot.

And that was Cal’s life. That’s what it had been like for the past month and a half—working to save a little money, but mostly to pass the time. When she wasn’t working she was taking walks on the island and exploring new places, or surfing. It wasn’t a luxurious life by any means, but it was what she needed right now. She needed to get away.

It was all completely predictable, until she stumbled upon Harry last night.

Calliope recognized him as soon as he walked in. Of course she did. And she would be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy their music—she’d never been to a concert or anything, but she wasn’t one to turn off the radio when One Direction was announced. He stuck out like a sore thumb among all the locals that frequented Pipo’s during her bartending shift, but he still somehow looked as if he felt right at home.

She soon learned that he was the kind of person who could make a home out of anywhere.

When she was done with her run on the beach she went back to her little cabin and changed into her work uniform, which was really just a pair of jean shorts and a white t-shirt. Her apron she would put on when she got to the bar, but for now she set off on her twenty-minute walk to work.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” she heard Pipo’s deep but kind voice call out to her from the back kitchen, causing her to laugh a little as she grabbed her apron from the hanger.

“Hey Pipo,” she called out in response, tying her apron around her waist and starting to wipe down the bar. “How are you doing?”

“Living the dream!” He yelled, and she laughed louder this time around as she grabbed a pen and tucked it behind her ear in preparation for the next wave of customers. “And you?”

“Living the dream,” she repeated, a half-smile on her face.

“You got a phone call today,” Pipo said, causing her to pause her actions. The only people who ever called Calliope at the bar were her mother and father. When she refused to take a cell phone with her on her trip she reassured them that she’d find a landline to use on the island, and Pipo was kind enough to let her use the one there.

“Oh?” She responded as nonchalantly as she possibly could, stacking plastic cups that customers would later use.

“Your mom sounded upset,” he chimed in, and she exhaled a sigh. 

“I’ll call her later. Thanks, big guy,” she said, rolling back the ache in her shoulders before forcing herself to focus on her work.

She loved her mother. She really did. But the reason why she came to this island was because she needed space. She needed time.

Cal needed to heal.

*

Harry was on Cloud Nine.

That morning when he woke up he drank a smoothie and ate a few spoonfuls of cereal before going to the recording studio while all the inspiration was still fresh. The last couple of days had been productive, but nothing had really jived yet. He’d felt like he was simply writing down notes and playing them, not creating something impactful and meaningful.

If he’d learned anything, it was that when inspiration strikes, you soak it up and roll with it as long as you can.

So when he walked into the studio that day at seven in the morning, a mere three hours after he’d gone to sleep, there was no stopping him. Everybody else was still sleeping, and he was fine with that. He knew very well that to put an album together a team was required, and he was grateful for the chance to work and learn from some amazing people. But there was something about being alone with the music that was exhilarating to him. It reminded him of late nights in his bedroom with White Eskimo lyrics in front of him, at that little house in Holmes Chapel.

He took a deep breath as he sat by the soundboard in the studio and looked at lyrics and sheet music that had been leftover from the day before. A moment later he reached for a fresh notepad, grabbing a pen and scribbling away.

He wasn’t a stranger to songwriting at all. It was a familiar process when he was a part of the band, and by the fifth album they recorded it felt almost like writing a bicycle. But this was different—this wasn’t One Direction, it was Harry Styles. It was his name on the record and his alone, and it was so much more personal. The stakes were incredibly high, and it gave him a thrill like nothing else.

A few hours later his mates started milling about in the studio, patting his shoulder as they walked in and working on their respective bits and pieces. It was almost like warming up your body before a race—they all knew this was going to be a marathon, and Harry couldn’t have been more excited to run.

All in all, the day was an absolute success. Harry spent it writing and rewriting, juggling ideas and joking around. At the end of the day he was sure that they’d come up with at least a few successes, other than a few bits that needed work here and there. He was still hyped up on the adrenaline and excitement that came from writing something that was one hundred percent his, something that he was this immensely proud of.

That evening after they were finished they all went their seperate ways, some of them going to have a couple of beers together and others calling their loved ones at home.

Harry went back to the bar.

*

Cal didn’t know exactly how it happened, but there were two very large, very angry men arguing by the entrance of the bar.

She could hear the string of cursewords echo past the music thudding in the background, and when she looked over from her safe position at the bar she could see that they were starting to draw attention to themselves.

What she didn’t expect was for one of them to grab a chair and start flinging it around in the air. Her eyes widened when she saw the bright orange chair lifted up and being swung over the heads of the bystanders, and she immediately dropped whatever drink she had been preparing and ran over to where the two voices were still booming a series of curses at each other.

“Hey, put it down!” Cal shouted over the music, and for someone who was easily half the size of both the men, her voice projected through the music. The bystanders glanced at her the moment she got close, and people began stepping away and making room for her. They all recognized her, but the two men in the riot must have not frequented the bar because they didn’t flinch at the sound of her voice. The taller man, the one who had the chair in his hands, tossed the instrument to the side. She watched as it smacked against the wall and broke one of the legs in half, and her irritation sky-rocketed.

Cal was just about to yell at them again when the shorter man (who was still very tall by her standards) swung and nailed the taller one in the jaw with a right hook. She could see the actions register in his face, and before everything really turned into a brawl she stepped between the two of them despite the bystanders calling out her name.

“That’s ENOUGH!” She yelled, blocking the pathway between the two men. They both easily had at least a foot of height on her, and both only hesitated a second before continuing to paw at each other. Except this time she was caught in the middle of it. She pressed her hands against the smaller one’s chest, trying to push him away from the other, but even though she was strong her push wasn’t enough to stop their adrenaline-induced brawl. She felt the larger one grab her arm from behind her and she flinched slightly, mostly from the surprise, but before she had the time to react he was being pulled off of her.

Calliope heard a familiar voice break the tension.

“Get OFF of’er!” Harry shouted, effectively pulling the large man away from the action and giving him a shove. The man stumbled back and she could see that he was dazed by the unexpected interruption, and even though she was relieved to have him off of her, her defences came up when Harry looked at her with that concerned face of his.

“Are yeh okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, and she briefly saw his face contort with confusion when she felt the smaller man whom she was still holding back start to fight against her.

“Hey!” She yelled, stepping apart from him so that she could pivot and face the both of them. “The two of you need to get over yourselves and get your sorry asses together before I personally throw you face-first out of my bar! Go have your pissing match somewhere else!”

The two men, who were finally out of their heads long enough to look at her for more than four seconds, were obviously taken aback by her yelling.

“I mean it!” She continued, not flinching when the larger one took a step towards her. “Get the FUCK out, right now!”

She watched them with her arms folded over her chest as the two of them made their way towards the exit, both stumbling slightly. Whether it was from the drinks they’d had or the fight, she didn’t know.

She felt an irritation wash through her as she looked at Harry, who was staring at her as if he’d never seen anything like that before. Maybe he hadn’t, but if he didn’t stop gawking at her she would kick his ass out of there as well.

Calliope grunted with frustration as she walked past him and grabbed the orange chair along with the chunk of it that had been broken off. She picked both bits up and stomped towards the exit, and she could tell that Harry was following.

“Are yeh alright?” He repeated, and she simply huffed in response as she walked over to the dumpsters and opened the lid of one of them. Harry didn’t understand why she seemed so upset—he might have expected her to be a little rattled or anxious after a confrontation like that, but she seemed genuinely upset at HIM, and he didn’t know why.

“I’m fine, and I didn’t need your help, Harry,” she announced, lifting the chair up into the dumpster.

“Wait, are yeh mad at me?” He asked, his eyes widening and the crease between his eyebrows appearing with confusion.

“I could’ve handled it myself, you didn’t have to come in and save the day,” she repeated, slamming the dumpster lid shut and turning to look at him. She could barely see his face in the dimly lit outdoors, but she could tell that he was thrown off by her words.

“I was only trying to help—”

“I’m not some princess that needs saving, Harry!” She huffed, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. He was thrown off a bit at the action—he really only thought that people did that in movies, but there was a fire in this girl that he’d never seen before. “You don’t get to waltz in here after one night and do things for me. I don’t need your saving, I don’t need your help.”

“Fine,” he exhaled in a frustrated tone, his brows furrowing. He could tell that there was something beyond what happened tonight that motivated her words, but he didn’t get the chance to ask because she was suddenly marching back into the bar. He followed her with his gaze, running his hands through his hair with confusion as he expelled a slight groan.

He’d known her for all of twenty-four hours, and she was already driving him absolutely mad.

*

The rest of the night went rather smoothly. Every so often someone would come up to her at the bar and ask if she was okay, clearly having seen the altercation from earlier. She reassured every one of them and thanked them for their concern, but every one brought her back to her state of anger once again. Her shift was quite possibly the slowest that she’d experienced since she got there, and she couldn’t wait to go back home and get some rest. She was absolutely exhausted.

Near the end of the night when mostly everyone had left, she saw Harry hanging out in a booth across the room.

She sighed. He was simply sitting, peeling the label off of a bottle of beer and nodding his head to the thumping of the music as he stared at the surface of the table in front of him. And she wasn’t used to being taken care of by any means, but a small part of her was maybe hoping that he stayed to make sure that she was okay.

A few moments later she walked over with his signature kiwi cocktail in her hand, taking a seat in front of him and sliding the drink over in his direction.

“Peace offering?” She murmured, watching as he looked up at her. His eyes looked off, as if there was some sort of mixture of sadness and anger hidden behind them. She offered him a small smile, and he looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“Let me know next time if I’m in the splash zone, because I’ll be sure to bring a poncho,” he said, waiting a couple of seconds before flashing a smile. She laughed at the reference to their untraditional introduction, and reached to grab the bottle of beer in front of him and take a sip.

“A pretty face like yours wouldn’t bode well, hidden behind that yellow plastic,” Cal mused, setting the bottle down and watching as he sipped on the cocktail she brought him. He chuckled a little, and she exhaled a sigh.

“I had…I have three older brothers,” she stated, fiddling with the label on the beer bottle that Harry had already half peeled off. “When I grew up, I was surrounded by superheroes…superhero movies, action figures, posters, you name it. I loved them…except I was also the girl that my mother had always wanted but was never able to have. And she’d always sit me down and make me watch all these princess movies, and wear these dresses and buy me dolls…all this bullshit that she wanted me to love as much as she did when she was little.”

“Don’t get me wrong, my parents didn’t abuse me or anything. Nothing like that, they love me so much,” she explained, her eyes softening a tad at her words. “But I got the sense that because I was my mom’s little girl, I was supposed to be weak. I wasn’t supposed to do any of the saving, I was meant to be saved and to be careful, while my brothers were told to go out and play.”

“I don’t…I didn’t like always being saved,” she finally exhaled, gaze lifting so that she could look at Harry’s face, which displayed nothing but understanding. “But I needed your help tonight. And I’m woman enough to push aside my pride and admit that…so thank you.”

He flashed her a smile and took another sip of his drink, taking a moment to think before speaking again.

“I didn’t mean to make yeh feel small,” he said. “M’sorry for that. I didn’t want yeh gettin’ hurt.”

“I know,” she nodded.

“I have a bossy older sister, yehknow,” he smiled, leaning back against the cushion of the seat and stretching his arms out in front of him casually. “Drives me up the wall sometimes, she does. But…if anyone ever told her that she was anything less than a superhero, I’d probably tell’em to bugger off.”

Calliope’s smile widened drastically at his comment, and the crinkles around her eyes appeared along with it. It made him grin, and the two of them settled into more comfortable conversation from there out as the rest of the people in the bar made their ways back to their homes.

And just like the night before, he helped her stack all the chairs and close up. Half an hour later the two of them were standing outside of the entrance, where he tucked his hands into his pockets and asked,

“Yeh’re not going to let me walk you home tonight either, are yeh?”

She looked up with a smirk, shaking her head to and fro as she tucked her set of keys into her pocket.

“Sometimes a superhero’s gotta fly solo, Kiwi,” she said, grinning. His head tilted back slightly as he laughed, and she attempted to memorize the exact spot on his left cheek where his dimple appeared.

“Would yeh like to spend some time with me tomorrow?” He asked, and she realized that the tucking of his hands into his pockets was a coping mechanism for whenever he got nervous. It made her smile.

“Like a date?” She asked, sinking her teeth into her lower lip slightly as her gaze faltered.

“Something like that,” he chuckled nervously.

She wasn’t there to date, she reminded herself, thinking about all the ways this could possibly go horribly wrong and whether or not she would end up regretting this.

But sometimes you just have to take the leap.

“Meet me here at three pm. Wear a bathing suit.”

Kiwi: Part Three

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