#i always go with the dark and broody weirdos but MY GOD.

[sarcasticmudkip]

He's yellow. He's a friend. He believes in socialism. He doesn't quite understand what capitalism is. He has a vest. He beat the shit out of his landlord. He has a fedora. He wears his jacket wrong. He's a cowboy. He loves his Papa. He's got a southern accent. He is simultaneously the most city boy and the most country boy of his group. His character theme is jazzy and electric. He's yellow. His last name is yellow.

[bosspigeon]

Carabosse et la Fee des Lilas

Prompt: 💋Drag

Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~

Words: 5,346

Summary: Tina spends some quality time with Arlo and Unit Bravo as they prepare for Wayhaven's first real Pride festival, Tina torments her best friend and his maybe-boyfriend (as is her god-given right), and Arlo has a big think about his favorite role and what that role allowed him to explore~

CW for references to transmisogyny and implications of past trans/homophobia

Sometimes, Tina wonders if Arlo missed his true calling. His hands are surgeon-steady as he pencils delicate patterns onto Felix’s cheeks, outlining with white eyeliner in preparation to fill them in with bold colors and glitter. Tina almost can’t wait for her turn, even though Felix looks like he’s in real, physical pain with the effort of holding as still as possible. She’s no stranger to that struggle herself.

Neither is she a stranger to Arlo’s forceful, if toothless, threats, overcome as she is by fondness when he growls that he's going to draw a mustache on Felix’s face with permanent marker if he doesn’t stop bloody bouncing.

It’s pretty fun to watch from the outside. Sure, when you first sit down when he’s like this—all sharp and snappish and “stop moving or I’ll chuck you out the window”—it’s hard to keep still, but Arlo’s got this sort of quiet intensity to him when he’s focusing on something that’s oddly meditative. He’s just a soothing presence, really. Like a capybara or something. He’s friend-shaped.

Whatever weird magic it is, it’s definitely catching, because Felix looks less like he’s about to burst, like he did when Arlo was putting down the foundation, and more like he’s enjoying the attention. Tina’s not sure how long it’s going to last, seeing as Felix has given her a run for her money in the “manic energy” department, and he’s nowhere near as caffeinated as she is at any given time, but for the time being, he’s (mostly) still and quiet.

There’s music playing, quiet enough that the broody one (she knows his name, but it seems to bug him when she calls him "the broody one," which is funny, so—) only grumbled about it for a few minutes when Arlo turned it on, and even seems to enjoy sitting close enough to Arlo’s stupidly fancy stereo system to, she guesses, feel the rumble of the bass through the floor. Vampires are weird.

Anyway, it’s Arlo’s usual sad goth boy nonsense, but as quiet as it is, and with its intense instrumentals and rumbling vocals, it’s pleasant background noise more than anything.

Nate (the handsome and charming one, because of course all Arlo’s vampire friends are handsome, so she has to differentiate between them somehow) is rifling through Arlo’s bookshelf like it’s his job, and visibly struggling to pick something to read, because Arlo’s sitting room bookshelf (the one she found at a yard sale three hours away and lashed to the top of her sedan with every single bungee cord she could find at the local hardware store because it was coffin-shaped, for god's sake) is where he keeps all his weirdo occult stuff to, quote, “make people who pop by unannounced leave faster.”

And then there’s the big, handsome, stupidly fit blonde Arlo still won’t call his boyfriend, even though they’re so obvious it’s sickening, and she means that with all the love in her heart. He’s sitting in the armchair by the bookshelf, positioned so he can look like he’s reading one of Arlo’s old music magazines and totally isn’t taking advantage of the perfect line of sight of Arlo perched on the end of his coffee table so he’s not too tall to work on Felix, sitting in a chair from the kitchen. Tina sure hopes he doesn’t think he’s subtle, being a super special vampire secret agent and all.

He seems to notice her eyeing him, at least, and keeps his attention pinned firmly on the magazine, though he is definitely not reading a single word. Nate keeps browsing, the Broody One keeps brooding, Arlo keeps working, and Felix starts to hum. Arlo gives him a sharp look, but it doesn’t seem to be moving his face in any major way, so he just rolls his eyes and keeps tracing pretty patterns onto that unfairly smooth, dark skin. Do vampires do skin care? They probably don’t even need to, and that’s probably one of the reasons people like to villainize them. It always comes down to jealousy, doesn’t it?

She sighs, loudly enough that every eye in the room turns to her, and while she did not expect the sudden attention, she knows she can at least use it to entertain herself. She homes in on Adam, and smiles when she finally looks at the magazine he’s still valiantly pretending to read. There’s a familiar man on the cover, and while she can’t be bothered to remember his name, she grins. “Oh, hey! Arlo, he’s reading the one with the guy who looks like you!”

Arlo doesn’t even look up, but he huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes again. He’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps that up.

The comment does exactly what she wants it to, which is draw the attention of all the other vampires. Arlo even begrudgingly pulls the pencil away from Felix’s cheek so he can take a look, and he immediately bursts out laughing.

“Arlo!” he exclaims, slapping at Arlo’s knee. “You didn’t tell us you had a twin!”

Nate chuckles (warm and rich and handsome, if a sound can be called handsome) and turns from the shelf to study the magazine curiously himself. Even the Broody One peers over to see, a little smirk curling his permanently-scowling mouth.

“Considering he was born in the sixties, I definitely don’t,” Arlo drawls. “Tina’s been making that joke since we were kids. She’s just happy she’s got an audience who hasn’t heard it twelve times a week since she first saw my old Type O Negative poster.”

“Some jokes just get better with time,” Tina says archly. “Like a fine wine.”

“And some jokes age like milk,” Arlo fires back.

Adam tilts the magazine so he can look for himself, and his dour expression clouds over even more, brows furrowing and mouth twisting. He peers up at Arlo, studying him, then down again.

Got you. “Yeah, you’re right,” Tina says, nodding sagely at him. “Arlo’s much prettier.”

It has exactly the reaction she was hoping for. Arlo drops his eyeliner pencil and makes a strangled noise, glowering at her with his cute freckly cheeks going all red, and Adam, who is a good bit paler than Arlo, goes pink from the crewneck of his just-this-side-of-too-tight tee shirt to his hairline. Tina wants to punch the air as the other vampires snicker at them. Well, except for Nate. Nate’s not a snickerer. He chortles. It’s adorable.

“Speaking of pretty!” Felix crows once they’ve all had a laugh at their fearless leader’s expense. He points to his own face with both hands, dancing in his chair, and Arlo sighs and rolls his eyes again, bending to pick up the dropped pencil. Luckily, the tip isn’t broken, so he can get right back to work, once he’s given the young vampire a moment to get his wiggles out. He settles, sitting on his hands and pursing his lips when Arlo gives him a dry look. He hovers back in with the pencil, and then Felix blurts out, “How’d you get so good at this anyway? Well, I assume you’re good at it. I haven’t seen it yet.”

Arlo doesn’t say anything. He just looks at him, pencil poised, until Felix pinches his mouth shut with a quick little apology. Once Arlo’s satisfied his canvas is actually going to hold still and keep quiet, he gets back to it. “My school was pretty small, especially compared to the bigger-name performing arts schools out there,” he says after a moment of quiet focus, tracing the outline of a heart around one of Felix’s eyes. “Our department didn’t really have a huge budget, and workspace was at a premium too. We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare for performances before someone else had to use the theatre, so we all did our own makeup at once, for the most part. Sometimes we’d help each other out, because we all had our strengths and weaknesses.”

He pulls back the pencil, squinting critically at the heart like it’s not completely perfect. “Demi was the best at laying the groundwork, and at matching colors to our costumes and complexions. Viv was the best at coming up with concepts and making sure we looked like a matching set. Wendi could do insane prosthetics, and was the best at bullying our department head into giving us the money for them. I had the steadiest hands, so I always did the eyes and the details.”

“Was Wendi the one who did your Dracula look?” Tina gasps. “That one was so cool!”

“Dracula?” Felix blurts. Tina doesn’t miss how the others perk up with interest too.

Arlo glares at him, and he shrinks back with a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, we did Dracula, uh… second year, I think? That was when Tilly transferred in and started doing our choreography. She’s the one who got Professor Dacey to let us do less classical stuff and start branching out a bit.” He glances briefly at Tina, staunchly ignoring the way Felix pouts at him for dividing his attention. “And, yeah, Wendi did the prosthetics for that one.”

“She’s got to be magic,” Tina asserts. “She managed to make your sweet, mopey face look so scary.”

Felix and Mason both snicker at that, and Arlo’s mouth goes all lemon-sour pinchy, like it always does when she calls him a sad puppy man, or any variation thereof.

“Take a lap,” Arlo says to Felix. “Don’t touch your face.” He jerks his head at Tina when Felix bolts to his feet and starts zooming around the flat to get out some of his energy. “Your turn, if you’re done being a comedian.”

“I’m never done,” she says with a sunny smile, but she bounces over to take Felix’s place in the chair and closes her eyes serenely so he can start on her makeup.

“And, God, do I know it,” he grumbles under his breath, knowing full well she can hear him, and so can everyone else in the room, too.

“Do you have pictures?” Felix hollers. He’s dipped into Arlo’s studio, and he’s making no secret of rifling through the desk in there, drawers slamming and paper rustling.

Arlo tips his head back so when he sighs, loud and dramatically long-suffering, he’s not blowing his breath right in Tina’s face. She appreciates the gesture. “Bottom right drawer,” he calls back, resignation thick in his voice. Given how long he’s been putting up with Tina—and Felix might just be Tina’s second platonic soulmate (Arlo, of course, being the first)—he already knows that keeping quiet is just prolonging the inevitable. Tina opens her eyes briefly to see Felix come sailing out of the studio with a thick leather-bound album held triumphantly over his head.

“Oh, I haven’t seen that in years!” she coos happily.

Arlo bops her on the forehead pointedly with a sponge covered in foundation, and she closes her eyes obediently.

She hears Arlo’s antique sofa creak as Felix plops down onto it, rifling through the plastic pages. “Aw,” he whines, “no baby pictures?”

“I can’t imagine him ever being a baby,” Mason snorts, and he sounds closer than he was before. Tina knows better than to open her eyes while Arlo’s in the zone, though. He’ll bop her with something less soft than a sponge next time. “I figured he’s just always been a giant.”

Felix laughs, high and chiming. “No wonder Agent Priestley’s always so sour, then,” he says. Tina giggles, and it becomes an inelegant snort when Arlo bops her again on the nose.

“Ask Rebecca if you want to see my baby pictures,” Arlo mutters blandly, and Tina can feel the weight of his attention. “I doubt she has many after age two, and the ones before I’ve barely seen.”

Tina’s not a super-special supernatural secret agent, but she tries with all her might to will someone to change the subject before things get weird. Now’s as good a time as any to learn telepathy.

Felix, heart of her heart, interrupts what’s shaping up to be a real prize winner of an awkward silence with a loud gasp. “Woah!” he exclaims, and pages crinkle as he presumably holds up the book for Arlo to see. “Who’s this? Did you do her makeup too?”

Arlo’s hair rustles as he turns his head away from her, and then the hand on her cheek freezes. Tension radiates through every inch of his body, practically leaching into hers. She cautiously opens one eye, and sees Arlo sitting up impeccably straight, stiff as a board and staring at Felix like a deer in the headlights. He swallows so hard she can see his throat move. “Um,” he says, stilted and strange. “Yeah. I did.”

Tina opens both eyes and squints at the photo album. Oh.

Felix looks at the sudden strain in the way Arlo is sitting, the tightness of his posture, and looks quizzically down at the picture again.

Tina remembers that performance. She remembers Arlo dancing (ha) around the subject when she asked him teasingly if he was going to be playing the prince, who was the lead, was he excited to kiss a pretty girl?

She can’t remember the character’s name, not so many years after the fact, especially since they were all weird classical nonsense, either Latin or French or some mishmash of the two. But she remembers the costume. She remembers waiting with bated breath to see Arlo onstage, to stand and scream and cheer obnoxiously loud in support of her best friend. She shot to her feet the second she saw his obvious silhouette rise from a feather-bedecked black chariot, head and shoulders taller than anyone else onstage. The music swelled, lightning flashed, and then when the spotlight hit him, she was so stunned she plopped right back into her seat with her jaw on the floor.

Arlo’s always been one of those guys that straddled the line between pretty and handsome. Long, lustrous hair and eyelashes she would kill for, cheekbones that could kill, a defined jaw, a proud nose, and intense eyes she could only call sultry—if she hadn’t known him since they were both weird, gawky brats, she’d probably be half in love with him before figuring out she wasn’t his cup of tea. But seeing him onstage was always an adventure. He threw himself into whatever character he played, put his everything into them, from the costume to the makeup to the performance. He just became the character, and in a way that was so very Arlo, all that intensity and focus channeled into an act that completely stole the show, in Tina’s humble and completely unbiased opinion.

Carabosse! That was her name!

Carabosse was no different.

Arlo’s makeup was flawless, ghost-white foundation giving him intense Morticia Addams vibes, contouring that made his cheekbones look absolutely unreal, bold black (or maybe really dark purple?) lipstick and shiny, smoky eyeshadow that made him look ethereal and wicked, with a daggerpoint cat-eye that she spent an hour begging him to teach her after the show. When he turned his head in a sharp, birdlike motion to look down his nose at the dancers playing the King and Queen, she gasped at the way his hair rippled down his back, shiny-black and woven with actual feathers that trailed back from the ornate metal circlet resting on his brow like a bird’s crest. The costume was breathtaking, too, a tightly corseted bodice and a high collar, a dramatically billowing skirt and trailing, feathered sleeves that flared like wings whenever he moved.

And the way he moved! Arlo’s dancing changed with every role, whatever he felt would suit the character. One of her favorites was always his Hans-Peter (she had a soft spot for that one, and had ever since she was little—one of the first Christmas gifts her stepmom had ever given her was little storybook version of The Nutcracker that came with a CD) because his dancing was so stiff and stridently mechanical, he looked like a real toy soldier come to life. But his villains moved with a slinking, predatory prowl she’d only ever seen in monster movies, and never in something like a ballet. His Carabosse was as beautiful as she was terrifying, and it was incredible to watch. She wanted to fling herself at him after the show and babble at him endlessly like she always did, but she spent a solid minute staring at him slack-jawed, until he shifted awkwardly and looked down, and the confident intimidation of the Wicked Fairy sloughed away to reveal Arlo underneath.

He almost melted into the floor with relief when she finally startled to babble.

She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, and he takes a slow, deep breath, offering Felix a strained smile. “Take a closer look, mate,” he says quietly.

Felix does. He looks up and squints at Arlo, and then back down at the photo. Tina has to bite her lip so she doesn’t laugh when he looks over at Adam, still holding the magazine with that metal singer that kind of looks like Arlo on it, and then back at Arlo. His mouth drops open into a little o, and he shoots to his feet and shouts, “No way!”

Mason was allowed his name back briefly, but he goes right back to Broody One when he grimaces at Felix and slinks pettishly back to his corner.

Arlo’s shoulders are practically around his ears, but he tries to keep smiling. “Yeah. Sleeping Beauty. Fourth year. I was the Wicked Fairy.”

“He was amazing,” Tina declares, shoulders back and chin tipped up challengingly. “The costume was insane, but the way he played her was absolutely, ridiculously badass.”

“You look awesome!” Felix blurts, still gawking down at the photo. He flips to the next page, and squeaks happily when he finds more pictures, from different angles, showing off the costume, the way Arlo loomed over the other dancers, the way he commanded the stage. Tina should really find out who took the pictures and send them her thanks, because they really put in the work. “Your makeup, your dress, your hair! How’d you even do that?”

Arlo laughs, and it sounds so utterly relieved, Tina’s heart breaks a little. Arlo’s always been sensitive, and for someone who dresses and holds himself the way he does, he worries more than he lets on what people think of him. Especially people he cares about. She squeezes his shoulder again, and he bites his lip when he glances back at her and smiles hesitantly.

“A lot of wire, and enough hairspray to choke a bloody cow,” he says, twisting around and slinging his long legs over the coffee table so he can face the sofa. “I think we bought every bag of black feathers the craft store had, and then spent an entire weekend painting them with this stupidly expensive embossing powder. We had to get, like, ten pots of the stuff, because the craft store only had pots the size of a quarter.”

“I admire your dedication,” Nate says pleasantly, strolling over to peer over Arlo’s shoulder. They tighten just a bit before relaxing slowly. “That costuming is superb. I’ve seen professional productions that weren’t half so detailed.”

“That would be Viv’s work,” Arlo laughs, looking down at the pictures fondly. “She took whatever cheap garbage the department had for us, raided the nearest clearance fabric rack, and worked her magic. The employees at that little craft store loved and hated us in equal measure.”

Arlo is still tense, but he’s loosening up little by little, and with him Tina does too. The easy camaraderie is soothing, and she knows how much Arlo cares about his vampire friends, so it’s got to be a huge weight off his shoulders to be able to let his guard down around them. He deserves that. He deserves to be able to be himself.

Adam standing up draws Arlo’s attention like nothing else could, and he freezes like a startled rabbit again looking up at the burly blonde vampire as he approaches the sofa. He looks a split second from bolting. Tina sits up straighter and gives Adam her most daring look, squaring her shoulders to make it perfectly clear she's ready to fight the second he opens his mouth. She’ll definitely lose, sure, but she’ll make as much trouble as she can before she goes down.

He reaches out, his hand hesitating before it touches the album’s glossy page, and he looks up at Arlo with a questioning tilt to his brows. Arlo looks like he’s barely breathing, but he nods, and Adam slips one of the pictures from its sleeve. He straightens his spine, shoulders back, holding the photo and studying it carefully. His face is impossible to read, about as expressive as a bloody brick wall. Tina’s vibrating with nervous energy. She’ll fight a vampire, though. She will.

When Adam does finally speak, his voice comes out so softly Tina almost doesn’t hear it over the adrenaline rushing through her. “You look… striking.”

Striking. Oh my god.

She wants to laugh. They’re ridiculous.

“Thanks,” Arlo chokes out, his cheeks and ears going red this time.

Oh my god. Tina covers her mouth with both hands. Arlo glowers at her. It’s a lot less threatening when he’s blushing like that. “I didn’t say anything,” she mumbles against her palms.

“Your face,” he hisses, and she yelps.

“Oh! Shit!” She pulls her hands away, and he grabs her by the chin to check the damage with a click of his tongue.

Tina thought things would get better once Arlo actually kissed the man (and maybe got a leg over, but that’s only her business when she can finally get Arlo to actually talk about if the big, beefy Adonis is as missionary-with-the-lights-off as he looks) but at least they’re not just staring longingly at each other from across the room and then getting all sad about it anymore . Thankfully, Felix seems to be an old hand at clearing up the weird tension between the two of them, chiming in a delighted, “I’ve never seen you look so scary!” as he rifles through all the pictures from the Sleeping Beauty show. “I mean, you’re pretty scary when you go all furry, but also, you sort of just look like a big lanky puppy, because it’s just you, you know? This is someone else! Who is she! She's so cool!”

Arlo sighs and turns around to fix whatever Tina’s ruined with her foundation, and throws himself back into dolling her up. Thankfully, the actual festival’s not for a while yet. She complained about the unnecessarily early start when Arlo suggested the time, but now she’s glad he’s such a persnickety prick about scheduling. “I had a lot of fun with it,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “The original script notes said to get, y’know, sort of silly with it, but I wasn’t a big fan of that angle for a character like her. Yeah, I wanted to be campy, but not in the way…” He purses his lips. “Okay, well, Nate probably knows this, but a lot of classical ballets that have a female villains do this thing with them that I hate.” He frowns deeply, patting at Tina’s chin with gentle ferocity. “ An evil female character is supposed to be sort of… sort of a cautionary tale, I guess? Like your typical bitter spinster crone, the old hag, or the wicked stepsisters, things like that. So they’ll specifically cast a male dancer and put them in bright, gaudy facepaint and garish costumes that are supposed to be cartoonish and ugly, that you're supposed to find funny, to show you that this character is bad because she’s indelicate and mannish, and that’s why she’s evil.”

His mouth twists around the words, and he looks up, back at the vampires, leaving Tina a moment to really appreciate that Arlo’s comfortable enough with them to do what he’s only ever really done with her—which is ramble about something he’s passionate about. It’s always fun to watch. He turns back to her, and she just wishes his hands weren’t occupied, because he’s a big hand-talker otherwise. “I got the role because the professor thought it would be funny to stick me in a role like that, being so tall and, y’know,” he gestures vaguely to his faded old band tee and dark jeans, the thick leather cuff around his wrist. Tina doesn’t see what he really means, seeing as he looks cozy and content right now, but she gets what he’s going for. “He was expecting me to be awkward about it. The big, tough guy doing drag as the creepy crone caricature.” He huffs. “I talked with Demi about it, and we decided to say fuck that.” He sits up straighter, tilts up his chin, and looks down his nose at Tina.

She peers up at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly wonders if this is how Demi felt, playing Aurora when Carabosse looked down her nose at her like an insect under her heel.

“I thought Carabosse deserved better,” Arlo says fiercely. “If I was going to be a villain, I was going to be a damned good villain. I was going to tower over all the delicate, dainty little princesses and fairies, and I was going to be fierce. Professor Dacey wanted Aurora, and Candide, and Florine to be the epitome of sweet, delicate femininity, the ideal damsel in any classical show. Carabosse is supposed to be the complete opposite. You’re supposed to root against her, not want to be her. She’s a threat to the idea of womanhood, of the ideal feminine. She’s bold and selfish and she takes what she wants. I leaned into that. I even danced en pointe for parts of it, even though Carabosse isn't supposed to, and between the rehearsals and the actual performance, I thought my feet were gonna fall off, but it was worth it.”

Arlo smiles, and Tina is thrilled by the wickedness of it. She thinks she even sees just a hint of fang. Arlo’s been so careful about showing his teeth, ever since he told her what happened to him, why he disappeared for so long, so it's somehow special for him to feel like he can show her even a hint of what he’s become.

“Professor Dacey was pissed, afterwards, of course,” Arlo laughs, but there’s an edge to it. He seems to shrink. From Arlo to Carabosse to Arlo again. He looks down at his hands as they work on Tina more than at her face. “He didn’t, y’know, say anything he could have gotten fired over, but he did rail about being left out of planning and the budget and all that rot. Got even madder when Demi pointed out we’d spent our own money on the costumes. I think if he was tall enough to look down on me, he would have.” He snorts, a bitter curl to his mouth. Tina thinks of it painted bold, dark purple, thinks of how it would look with those teeth behind it. She wonders if he’d let her do his makeup for the festival. She’s not nearly as good at details as he is, but she’s no slouch either.

“You should have let me put raw fish in his hubcaps,” Tina mutters, just to make Arlo laugh. It works, and she beams at him.

“Would have been a waste of fish,” he mumbles, sucking his teeth. He finally picks up a bright eyeshadow palette and starts waffling over colors. He’s quiet while he deliberates, but after a while, he sighs. “I liked being Carabosse,” he says, like it’s a secret. Like he’s trying very hard not to be ashamed.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Adam says, almost dreamily. Tina could scream. “I— We could have, I mean. All of us. In solidarity.”

“Smooth,” Felix whispers.

“I’m sure it was a phenomenal performance,” Nate adds helpfully. He’s taken the album from Felix to flip through to some of Arlo’s other shows. “The passion you have for your characters shines through in just photos. It’s quite impressive.”

“You should have gone pro,” Tina mutters. “You’d be a household name by now.”

Arlo snorts and bops her with the brush. How many bops is that now? She’s certainly on a roll today. “And who’d keep you in line back here?” he teases.

Tina squints up at him and sticks out her tongue. “Like you’ve ever even tried to keep me in line, you big softie. You love the chaos, just admit it.”

“I’ll admit you to the hospital when you do something stupid and get yourself hurt again, how about that?”

They bicker like children back and forth while Arlo finishes her makeup, a wash of pink, purple, and blue eyeshadow and matching lipstick, overlaid with a lustrous sparkle to her cheekbones and a cute little black heart-shaped beauty mark under one eye. Felix gets a bi flag heart to match her eyeshadow around one eye, and then the rest is a sort of confetti splash of sparkly stars and hearts in every color. Even Nate goes for the bi eyeshadow (Bi-shadow? She should have been saying that this whole time!), making him, Tina, and Felix a matching set, and Mason consents to a very simple pan flag on his cheek. Tina suspects Adam only allows the eyeshadow treatment so he can have Arlo cup his face all tenderly, but she keeps the thought (mostly) to herself. He looks good in pastels, she thinks when she sees the finished blue, pink, and white.

Arlo draws a little heart under his eye too. The heart in Tina's chest almost explodes with warmth.

And then Arlo disappears into the bathroom, leaving the rest of them to entertain themselves while he gets ready on his own. They go through the album some more, and Tina tells them all about her favorite shows, because she went to every single one she could manage, and got Arlo’s school friends to send her videos of the ones she couldn’t. Tina Poname is Arlo Priestley’s number one fan, and that will never change. Not even now that she's got some competition.

When Arlo comes out of the bathroom, they all look up in sync, and he stands there, shifting anxiously from foot to foot under the attention, and lifts his hands in a stilted shrug. “So?” he asks, smiling nervously. He’s changed clothes, too. Tight pants, big boots, a mesh-sleeved black shirt underneath his patch-and-pin-covered denim vest. His wrists jingle with chunky bracelets, and his hair is braided neatly over one shoulder. But his makeup is what really steals the show. That insanely sharp cat-eye, of course, but one eye is done up in blue, pink, and white, and the other in yellow, white, purple, and black. He smiles timidly. “I, uh, I couldn’t really decide on just one,” he says, sticking his gloved hands into the pockets of his vest. “I’m, um, I’m not sure which one’s really right for me yet, I guess?” He shrugs again, and Tina watches delightedly as Adam stands up slowly, his eyes on Arlo with such an awed intensity she wonders if he even remembers there’s other people in the room. Arlo keeps babbling as he approaches, the words tumbling nervously from his black-painted lips. “I sort of like matching with you, Adam, and I know they’re both fine, but I—”

Adam grabs him by the lapels of his jacket, yanks him down to his level, and silences him with a kiss. Tina throws her arms up in the air with an impulsive shriek of “WOO!” that Felix echoes even louder. They high-five over Mason’s head, and he looks like he wants to throw them both out the window. Nate sits by with a pleasant little smile, which only fades when he takes note of the clock.

Adam and Arlo are still kissing, Arlo’s hands cupped around the vampire’s cheeks and Adam clinging to his vest like he'll drown if he lets go. Tina thinks she might see a hint of tongue when Nate loudly clears his throat.

They break apart with an indecent smacking noise, and Tina yelps out a sharp laugh when she sees Arlo’s black lipstick smeared all around Adam’s mouth.

Nate crosses his arms and smiles dryly at them. “Why don’t you two go fix your faces,” he suggests. “The rest of us will make sure the car is packed for the festival.”

“Um, yes. You— We—” Arlo fumbles for a bit, touching his smeared lips, his eyes just a bit dazed. He and Adam look at each other, and then flee for the bathroom together.

Tina’s never been more excited for a festival in her life.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Dimension Jumping pt. 1

The Fellowship of the Ring x Reader

But a lot of the stories are about the reader falling into Middle Earth…. what about the other way around? If you wanted to do all the characters, you could do a point after they left Rivendell, before they split up?

Like for example, after Gandalf ‘dies’, and it could be something sweet and cute or whatnot where the reader helps them grieve a bit, give them a bit of a rest before continuing on their journey?

—

Weekends have always been your favorite time of the week. 

No responsibilities, sleeping in, more time, freedom, the list goes on and on. 

Your weekends are usually spent idly doing things you enjoy, like sleeping, and lot’s of stress free activities. 

Not this weekend though, for when you got home after a grocery run, you were met with quite the surprise. 

A total of 8… people? lay strewn about in your living room seemingly unconscious. They are dressed in odd clothes, holding medieval looking weapons, and they look rather raggedy and dirty. Four of them are extremely small, and if it weren’t for their older looking faces, you would’ve thought them to be children. There’s also a handsome blond with pointy ears, a short red headed, bearded… man, and two semi-regular looking tall dudes.

Your groceries fall from your arms and land on your carpeted floor, but you barely pay that any mind since you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the pile of people in the middle of your damn living room.

Your floofy white dog Penny is sniffing around them, but she doesn’t seem to be alarmed nor agitated by their presence, so that’s good at least. She’s an excellent judge of character after all. Eventually she settles down next to the tall guy with dark brown hair, and though you don’t like that she’s next to these strangers, you allow it.

The sound of your things falling to the ground seems to rouse them, and you watch as the man wearing dark clothing with dark hair opens his eyes and groans quietly. At first his eyes scan around the room, then they fall upon you. 

He sits up slowly, still eyeing you as he glances down at his small child-looking friends. A look of relief passes his expression before he looks at you once more, saying nothing while the rest of his merry band of crazies begin to sit up.

This is supposed to be your fucking day off, and this shit happens? A bunch of renaissance weirdos laying in your house, making your clean carpet dirty. 

“You know what, no.” You state loudly, successfully startling the dark haired man, “This is my weekend off, and I am not dealing with this. Whatever this is." 

You turn on your heel and begin picking up your groceries, though you remain vigilant incase one of them intends to try something. 

Once you’ve gathered all your discarded things you stand again and look behind you, seeing that most of them are on their feet and looking at you and your home as if you’re some alien in a structure unknown to them. You quickly look forward again and go to your kitchen, placing everything on your counters while you try to decide how the hell you’re going to deal with this. 

You look over your counter at the still staring people and ask slowly, "Does… anyone want a snack?”

Two of the small blonde men perk up when you say ‘snack’, so you take that as a yes and begin preparing apples, celery, and peanut butter for everyone to eat. 

By the time you’re done cutting up the apples you’ve only got two left, but you just sigh and bring out a tray with the snack and place it on the coffee table. 

The two blond… boys? run over to it immediately, but are halted by a sharp “No.” from the brown-haired guy. 

Said brown-haired guy is looking at you distrustfully, and you feel your blood begin to boil with his distrust (even though HE is in YOU home). 

“Okay dude, I get you don’t know me or whatever but you guys literally broke into my house, so if anyone is supposed to be cautious here it’s me. M. E. Me. I’m offering your… children…? Adult babies? Boys? Food, and damnit if they want it then they’re gonna eat it.” Your little outburst gets you several shocked looks, but you’re so FUCKING tired, you’ve just got no energy to deal with this. 

“We 'broke into your house’?” He repeats slowly, “I have no recollection of our relocation to your… house, and I’ve never seen someone of your caliber, nor a place so… odd, before. So forgive me if I am skeptical of our suspiciously willing host.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and it successfully ruffles your self control. 

“Now you listen here Mr. Broody, I’m not about to get sass in my own home. By god if Penny didn’t seem to love you so much I would vaporize you where you stand!” Big talk for such a small person, yes, but you stand by your statement. 

Only you don’t get the reaction you were expecting, because suddenly everyone looks horrified. 

“You can do that?” One of the small blond boys(?) gasps, scooting closer to his look-alike. 

The guy you were mouthing off to grabs the hilt of his -is that a fucking sword?!- weapon and steps in front of the small guys. The tall blond dude, other actual human, and short ginger haired man do the same, and suddenly you feel a lot less satisfied. 

“Woah there fellas, It’s a figure of speech!” You say quickly, raising your hands in a surrender motion. 

Penny senses your sudden distress, so she bounds over to you and presses her nose against your knee in a way meant to gather your attention. You glance down at her and visibly relax before looking back up at the still tense men in front of you. 

“Tough crowd…” You reach down slowly and pat Penny’s head, watching as their eyes follow your movements. “Okay, look. I’m not going to like, poison you or whatever you’re afraid of. How about we start with introductions, hm?" 

The same guy from before nods his head slowly (it seems he’s the leader here) and tells you a little hesitantly, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. A Ranger, also known as Strider by most." 

What in the ever loving hell did he just say?

You can’t even stop the laughter from bellowing out of you, because this is just so god damn ridiculous and completely baffling. You grasp your stomach and double over with laughter while everyone else just watches silently and confusedly.

Eventually your laughter begins to subside when your sides start to hurt, so you stand up a bit straighter and wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, "Ahaha, ah… wow that’s good. But really though, I’m not looking for stage names bud, I’m being serious here.”

This 'Aragorn’ doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you do. “Stage names? No, I believe you are misunderstanding.”

The smile on your face drops and you suddenly don’t find it as funny either. “So… your name is actually Aragorn then?” Well, maybe not all of them have weird names, “Right, then what about the rest of you?" 

The other guy who looks like an actual human speaks up next, "I am Boromir, son of Denethor and Captain of Gondor.” Oh heck. 

Blondie comes up next, “I am Legolas from the woodland realm.”

Shortie #1, “Gimli Son of Gloin." 

The small dark haired man child comes forward, "I am Frodo Baggins, and these are my friends Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck." 

"What the-” you pause and cover Penny’s ears, “Fuck is all of this?" 

It seems your actions amuse the taller dudes because their stand-offish demeanors diminish as they seem to deem you harmless (I mean who covers their dogs ears when cursing? Clearly you’re pathetic).

"I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you.” Mr. Aragorn states. 

“Well, start with where you come from, maybe?”

They all share a look before 'Legolas’ states, “We come from Middle Earth and have just traveled through the Mines of Moria." 

You literally don’t know what any of that means.

"Well, alright. Right now, I can tell you that you’re on Regular Earth and in my living room.” You don’t mean to be so sarcastic, but both the functional and rational parts of your brain are failing you big time, “Do you know how you got here?" 

You get 8 respective no’s, and while you expected that, it’s no less frustrating. "Shoulda seen that one coming, I guess." 

The Gimli character looks you up and down and asks in his gruff voice, "And what about you, you’ve not told us who you are." 

"Oh, right, my bad. I’m Y/N, and this cutie,” you reach down and pick up Penny’s front paws from the ground and wave them at the group, “Is Penny. She is the softest, sweetest, and cutest doggo you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. Disrespect her and there will be consequences." 

You stand back up and pat Penny’s head, watching as they all nod their understanding and appear rather nervous suddenly.

"That was also a joke.”

Most of them relax.

You tap your foot a few times and seem to think over your options, looking away from them and out the window. 

Clearly there is something very wrong going on here, so you can’t just throw them out, but at the same time you don’t have enough energy to deal with this today. And there’s the very real possibility that they could be psychos. But there’s also the fact that they seem to be a little worse for wear, some of them have puffy eyes, and is that blood?  Their disheveled and tired appearances tug at your heart strings, and you find yourself wanting to help them. 

“Okay, against my better judgement I have decided that I’m going to welcome the lot of you into my house until we can figure out what the hell is going on here.” This seems to surprise Aragorn and his two tall besties. “I don’t know why… but something is telling me that I should help you out, so I guess that’s what I’m going to do.”

Two of the small blond ones smile brightly, but you haven’t finished yet. 

“But!” Their smiles drop and everyone seems rather serious again, “If any of you try anything funny or start any trouble, I will kick all of you out. I don’t know any of you, and you all have weapons. So if I’m gonna let you stay then you’re going to have to behave.”

“Miss Y/N, you do not have to-” Aragorn begins, but you put up your hand and shake your head. 

“It’s fine. Just please don’t break anything, and if Penny wants head pats you had better give them to her." 

It seems your rules are fair enough, because you get 8 more head nods.

The two small people attack the snack you made finally, and you find that you can’t help but to laugh a bit. 

A thought then strikes you, "Oh!" 

Everything pauses and every looks at you again, more alert, but you just roll your eyes at how on edge they are.

"I was just going to say that I have two bathrooms is anyone wants to wash up.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 155

155

What Lance didn’t know was that Keith was also having a hard time focusing solely on the fish. The aquarium part wasn’t hugely fancy. Nice, but a little repetitive with the main attraction being the big tank you went past when you came in. The place used to breed stock for international and domestic populations, with some fish way cooler than others. The sharks were cool. Kids in awe as they came near the glass wall of the tank that arched up and over the walkway. Keith could have totally dick punched a shark of the glass wasn’t in the way. Irrational fear of the glass breaking had him holding his breath until they’d passed from under the tank. Even Lance seemed jumpy as he flinched as the hugest stingray Keith ever seen turned the tunnel black as it passed overhead.

Tank after tank sat alcoved in the walls. The amount of colours and shapes were ridiculous. Everything was amazing, still Lance managed to bombarded his field of vision. Keith wished Lance hadn’t hidden his face away behind sunglasses, he wanted to see Lance’s eyes, see if his boyfriend was mesmerised by all the thousands of fish or if he was hiding his disinterest. He knew his boyfriend loved water. He loved all things ocean related. He also knew Lance was secretly addicted to documentaries. He hadn’t predicted Lance would be caught up watching him in his date plans. God. How was his heart supposed to cope with this? He felt flustered and way too happy to be the centre of Lance’s focus.

Holding Lance’s hand, Keith interlaced their fingers together so Lance couldn’t wander away. Sometimes he swore his boyfriend did it just to scare the crap out of him, and he never wanted to feel the way he had when they’d gone to the shopping centre together. Dragged away from the lower tanks and crowds of families, Keith was off in his own head taking a long moment to realise they’d stopped in front of a recreated set of jaws

“What the fuck is that?”

Meaning the painting behind the jaws that were kind of intimidating as hell with those big fuck off teeth and a whole lot of nope

“It’s the jaw set of a Megalodon. In front of it is the jaw set from a Great White”

Documentaries were one thing. This... was... Keith wasn’t sure how he’d look at the beach again. Megalodons better bloody be dead. There was no way he was letting kids in the water at any beach with those huge bastards swimming around

“You know how I said I’d punch a shark for you... I would, but those teeth...”

Lance snorted at him, his boyfriend tugging his hand free

“I’m the only one who gets to sink their teeth into you... plus, I won’t tell if you punch it. I’m going to punch it”

Keith panicked hard. Punching an exhibit seemed a good way to be booted out

“What?! Babe, you can’t... They’ll kick us out!”

Shrugging him off, Lance waited until no one was close to them before walking over to the set of jaws. Covering his face, Keith didn’t want to look, but that didn’t stop him from peaking through his fingers, watching as Lance punched the lower jaw with all the aggression of a leaf. Grinning at him, Keith realised he’d been had. Lance obviously wouldn’t punch an actual exhibit. Groaning, Keith dropped his hands as Lance covered his toothy smile. What the heck had he been thinking? Why was he acting so totally lame and uncomposed

“You can touch you know. Because it’s not an actual jaw set. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No. You conveniently forgot to. Stand still, I’m going to take a photo and tell Pidge you’re being mean to me”

Moving his hand to his forehead, Lance faked a staggered swoon

“Oh no! Not the Gremlin! How ever can I apologise?”

Talk about dramatic. His boyfriend should have been an actor

“You fear the Gremlin as much as I do”

Keith pulled out his phone to snap a few shots as Lance posed as if scared he was about to be eaten. What an idiot. A big dorky idiot that was his

“I do, but it’s a healthy fear built up over the years and smothered in love”

“Oh, so no love for Hunk?”

“Excuse you. Hunk is the embodiment of sunshine. Now come over here and let’s get a photo together. You can even punch a shark in the mouth”

“I’m not into destroying the displays like you are”

Lance rolled his eyes at him, holding both hands out until Keith finally started moving towards his boyfriend. He’d gotten a good spread of Lance. He’d be screwed if his boyfriend wanted to look back at today’s photos. Ninety-nine percent of his photos were of Lance

“You break into a school once and they never let you forget it. Lotor never did bother clueing us in on that. A bit like how I still have no real idea about Rome”

Posing for photos with Lance, Keith didn’t know what to say about Rome or why they were going back to that again

“Rome is done with”

“I know. I still don’t know much about what happened though. I know. Today’s not the day to ask”

“Nope. I can’t even remember what I’ve told you, but I don’t know how much that matters when the most important outcome is that you’re safe”

“And Curtis is all demony. Do you think he’s stronger than me now?”

Keith stowed his phone away. Curtis shouldn’t have to feel obligated to tell him more than he was ready to. So he hadn’t pushed it

“Maybe. Does he feel different to you? I mean, you can like tell can’t you? About the demon?”

Humming, Lance looped his arm around Keith’s, the pair of them starting to move away from the fake jaws

“A bit. He’s still Curtis though so that’s all I need to know. I’ve given up on me ego being a weirdo. I mean, Matt and Rieva sometimes set it off and that’s whack seeing they’re family”

“Our family is weird as hell”

Lance nodded with a laugh

“Our family is close to hell. Seriously. A vampire who senses death and sees fuzzy things. Pidge who is a raging gremlin with no coffee. A demon from hell. Matt and Rieva are much more powerful under the light of the moon. You’re all dark and broody...”

“What about Shiro?”

Lance’s tone was strained and reaching, words slightly spaced

“He’s got dark hair?”

“That’s all you’ve got?”

“Yep. I know. I’m lame. I don’t know. Sometimes I did want to shake him, but he’s your brother and he’s family. I can see why he’s such a weirdo after meeting the Blades. I can’t imagine a whole bunch of them. It scares me”

That hurt. To Lance they’d always be distant and weird... then again, that was the truth, even if him being a Blade was what brought them together. They’d let a mark be put on his head, he’d always be a case on their files that someday someone might change their minds over

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to. How does Hunk work into this?”

“Ummmm... The sun is hot and the flames of hell are? I don’t know. He’s like all the good things in one... Didn’t I tell you I was low on brain cell power?”

Turning to face Lance, Keith pretended to feel for a fever, teasing his boyfriend lightly as he did

“You’re not warm... I think you got away with using that brain power but you should probably give it a rest. I don’t know how to explain to people that your head exploded from thinking”

Lance gaped at him, then huffed as he pouted

“You’re so mean. It’s not my fault. I’m like smart and stuff. It’s happened before”

“Maybe. Maybe not. How will we ever know?”

Lance hummed lightly, before clicking his fingers

“Oh! I’ve got it! If I’m so dumb, why did I choose to spend the rest of my undead life with you?”

Keith shrugged, cheeks warm as he tried to play down how happy he was that Lance had

“I’ve been asking myself since the moment you liked me back. Maybe your dumbness wore off on me?”

“This coming from the guy who thought I’d turned him after he punched me in the mouth. You were such a cute little anger loaf. All broody and pouty...”

Ugh. He’d never ever live that down. Lance would drop it in an instant if Keith asked

“Like you’re any better you idiot crumpet. At least I had my reasons”

Because vampires had been the sworn enemy and had robbed him of the most family like family he’d known. He’d loathed them. Thrown himself in recklessly and nearly lost his life, only have everything he’d taught be wrong

“I know. I’m really glad you opened up to me. This is much nicer than jumping out of windows to avoid you, or rescuing you from would be muggers”

“That happened once”

Did Krolia really count? They hadn’t known it was her soooo maybe?

“Ahem, twice. First at the cinema. Or did you forget my manly attempts to save you”

Keith snorted. Oh. He barely remembered that. He’d been pissed at being forced to move at Lance’s speed

“Manly? I thought you were the biggest moron ever”

“Rude! I was very manly and stuff. You’re breaking my heart”

That was lie, Keith biting back with

“Better than staking your heart”

“Don’t go staking my heart!”

Lance sounded like he was singing something, Keith staring at him blankly

“Elton John? Babe, you do know who that is, right?”

“A singer?”

“Oh babe... oh, my sweet idiot. I have so much to teach you”

“If you say so”

“I do. He is legend. I’m shook. I’m shook and going to need to educate you on the way of Sir Elton”

Of course he knew who Elton John was. He kind of knew the song yet was sure the lyrics didn’t go like that. Keith muttering under his breath

“I’ll shake you”

“Nooo. No shaken vampires. It’d be like shaking one of these tanks. Our little cupcakes are gonna be all swished up”

“Fine. You get a free pass for now. Where do we go next?”

“They’ve got an exhibit on Orcas. Did you know they’re not a whale but a dolphin?”

“Yeah, and that they attack moose. They’re like the family member you don’t invite anywhere”

Lance nodded quickly

“I know, right. Dolphins are supposed to be all cute and then you’ve got killer whales. They’re nasty. Man, jelly fish have the right idea with no brains”

Keith wasn’t about to be “out facted”. Not when he knew stuff about stuff

“Did you know people used to stand in whales like it was a magical cure”

“Well, did you know Moby Dick was based on a real whale named Mocha?”

Keith wanted to protest that one. Mocha was a delicious coffee drink... instead he moved onto his next fact

“Did you know a Blue whale can live up to 90 years?”

“Mhmm. Like how their tongue can weigh the same amount as an elephant. You know people think Nessi is a sturgeon”

“Nessi can’t be explained. Nessi doesn’t need explaining”

“Just like Mothman?”

“Yep. Somethings just are”

“You’d make a cute Mothman. Jumping off balconies and all”

“That wasn’t my fault! I blame Shiro”

“Suuuure. Blame your brother. Let me know how that works out for you”

Keith huffed in defeat. He had no one to blame other than the bottle of tequila

“Whatever. Which way to the Killer Whales?”

“To the left. You know, they can weigh up to 6 tons”

“And that they’re teeth are like 4 inches long. And sharks don’t even like eating humans”

Keith felt kind of smug being able to match Lance fact for fact, until he found himself choking on air as his boyfriend delivered the final blow and Keith without a comeback

“If you want 4 inches, I’ll give you the longest four inches of your life”

Whelp. There was nothing smart he could say back to that. He had nothing. His brain had short circuited and his blood was fast draining down to his other brain. Laughing, Lance tugged him along, Keith stumbling as he let himself be moved. How did he reply to that? He didn’t have a reply for that. Now he was popping a semi in his jeans and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to look at whales the same way ever again.

[evilpixiea]

Why do you ship superbat? What do you think about them? Sorry if you already got this ask, but I am very curious! Thanks, Pixie.

You’re welcome, anon!

That’s a great question. Unfortunately, I don’t have a great answer for you because, the truth is, I don’t know.

I don’t know what it is about Superbat that has made it that one special ship for me. I don’t know why it had stuck with me for so long or why it continues to appeal to me as other ships come and go.

It may be nostalgia. Superman and Batman are not the first super/action heroes I fell in love with. Far from it. That honour probably goes to Xena.

But they are the heroes that I remember really getting to know and falling in love with during my teenage years… in particular when I was a foreign exchange student discovering fandom for the first time.

But I think another big part of it is the players in question.

Both Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent appeal to me on multiple levels. They’re not just characters I like. They’re characters I can connect with.

Clark is the country kid who moved to the big city to follow his dreams in media and in writing. Now he’s an adult who’s just trying to do the right thing… and often gets criticised for it. He makes mistakes, he is often seen as old fashioned, irrelevant, and/or slow, and he is in many ways very isolated and alone because of it.

All of that I can identify with very strongly… because it’s pretty damn close to my life experience.

I think this is why, when I’m writing fanfic, I often write from Clark’s perspective. Or, at the very least, Clark’s perspective comes easiest. Despite all the people out there calling Superman unreliable, he’s easily one of the heroes I relate with the most.

In contrast, there is Batman.

Aka, the broody self important (but some how all powerful) weirdo that everyone thinks is super cool.

Aka, the teenage power fantasy.

And that’s fun. Heck, it’s super fun.

But, if you peel back the layers you find Bruce Wayne.

And Bruce Wayne is interesting. I don’t think I relate much to him on a personal level. But, I do appreciate the complexity of his character and how deeply terribly flawed he is… and yet how heroic he is despite that. Perhaps because of it.

He’s a prick, sure. He’s flawed and problematic and all sorts of fucked up.

But he’s a hero.

And that juxtaposition (when does right) never ceases to intrigue me.

Now put them beside each other.

On the surface they couldn’t be more different. The homely farm boy. The billionaire. The bright beacon of hope. The dark shadow of vengeance. The all powerful god. The broken angry boy.

But, dig a little deeper and you get the similarities.

They’re both brave, determined, and devoted to their families. They’re independent, self assured, and heroic. They’re also private, slow to trust, and introspective.

These similarities are what makes their friendship make so much sense despite their outward mismatch.

And (for me) their friendship is the lifeblood of Superbat.

I always imagine them being friends first.

I imagine them with that deep type of friendship that took years to build. I imagine them slowly coming to trust each other more than they’ve ever trusted anyone else. I imagine them fighting and then making up thousands of times before either of them has even realised they’re madly in love with each other.

But, perhaps this is just me putting myself into the ship. I don’t fall in love quickly. That’s not a skill I have. For me, I need to know someone really well before I start to develop deeper feelings for them.

As a result, that’s the flavour of ship I like. And, I think, Superbat fits that bill nicely.

So, I guess you could say it’s a perfect storm. Characters I know and love from my youth, characters I can identify with as an adult, and a relationship type I find very appealing.

The sprinkles on top of this already very fine cake are the extended cast around both characters (Alfred, Lois, Dick etc) and their ages. Because, personally, I prefer adult ships to teen ships.

I really don’t know if any of that answered your question, anon. I hope it did.

TL;DR I ship Superbat because they’re the best.

[terescs-blog]

( ana de armas + cis female + she/her ) — there’s a rumor running around about a survivor called TERESA HENDRIKSEN, NEE MACHADO. they are said to be thirty one years old, from havana, cuba, and have been labeled the maven. fitting, considering that they are reported to be relentless + intelligent, as well as bemused + anxious. they reside in fisherman’s wharf and are a healer. apparently they are a bisexual + gemini. fidgety fingers & stacks of research.

name: teresa rafaela hendriksen (nee machado)

nicknames: tessa, tete, terezita, t. she loves them all and is not picky, becoming a fan of even mean ones.

age: thirty one

orientation: bi (romantic and sexual)

languages spoken: spanish (native, mother’s tongue), english (native, first language)

origin and location: havana, cuba; later miami, and prior to the virus, washington. currently, the fisherman's warf camp

occupation: phd student of biochemistry & researching staff at the university of washington; currently, a healer at the camp. 

family: jose ricardo machado (father, unknown state), luciana aguillar (mother, deceased), bram hendriksen (husband, alive), josephine amalia hendriksen (6 year old daughter, alive).

personality type: enfp-t (the campaigner)

hair color: dark brown. she was blonde for quite a while, but it became a hassle after a few months in the epidemic. it stands above her breasts, flatly, with bangs above her eyebrows to match.

eye color: hazel, of the shades of golden and green.

height: 166cm

her father was the first of them in the US. like many cubans post revolution, he came in with the operacion pedro pan, still as a child. he only returned to cuba when he was grown, under the US navy. there, josé met luciana, and not with much delay, teresa was born.

truth to be told, she doesn’t remember cuba all that well. she was about two when they managed to save enough to get to miami, so that’s where she grew. life by the beach had always been a constant in her life, and teresa was the most excited toddler when the marines officers’ ship came to bay.

( TW: PARENTAL DEATH) the childish excitement was never put to rest. the characteristic would become a defining trait to teresa, much to the chagrin of some, and the delight of others -- but for her, it was a way of survival. the blind optimism and bubbliness was what kept her going through the long days of wait with no word from her father, or the life with a immigrant mother and little means & it was what kept them all going through her mother's sudden illness and demise.

she was still fairly young when her mother died, so her father had to apply for a transfer. america had changed, he had changed, but he had a young daughter and they needed to be there for each other. there was a lot to adapt, but they made do. teresa would go from school to work, from work to home, get her share of housework done and take some time with her dad. on the remaining time, she buried herself in her school work -- it was the only way out, she had always been told.

turns out she had a knack for it. while girls her age dived in parties and boys, she was the last of labs during college, but her name was the first in every internship and fellowships. her mother's illness was the instigator to her curiosity, which had always ran high, and stimulated her to the field. she had a biology and a biochemistry degree by the age of 23, and, when she was 29, was gunning for a spot in the washington cdc facility. she was pretty high on the list too but DONT REMIND HER THAT. 

that was when all hell broke loose. there was no time to pack or think, and teresa relied heavily on her husband bram and on his instincts to get them and their daughter to safety. lbr she still relies on bram a lot bc ya know hes your broody post apocalyptic poster boy while she is this wide eyed enthusiastic scientist who stands at like 5'6. dont ask me how they still workin i dont fucking know!!!

she found some use for herself as a healer on the wharf, despite not having a medical background herself; she still was willing and very prompt, and her knack for research and laboratory work was a saving grace. she's easily found on the medical building (tent? space???idk), but she's helpful and will double as any profession and be anywhere someone is needed.

tbh, restless. can't shut down wont shut down, catch her up at 5 in the morning running on 2 hours of sleep and enthusiastically greeting every single camper by name. she looves the wharf, loves being by the beach and she considers every single person her family and bc of that she will be that nosy mom friend that cant shut up. she has always been pretty bubbly and on the edge, and even without coffee, she has managed to keep that up by running on sheet anxiety! fun!

the personification of michael in that the good place episode when he finds out about death

extra:

though hesitant and very anti violence (deadass laughed about when would she need to use a gun to her husband prior 2016) she does know her way around survival. she hates getting out of thr camp but is always well packed with a mace, some surgery knifes and a gun, which is her preferred method of putting down walkers bc it's what damages the brain the least (and she needs those to study). catch her being that crazy scientist who begs fellow survivors to be careful with the "infected species". 

(TW: ANXIETY, SELF HARM) like many others, unhealthily copes with her anxiety. (non) sleeping pattern already mentioned, she is also always carrying something to twiddle with, squeeze and, on bad days, she snaps a elastic band around her wrist. as of late she is getting a lot of bruises bc of that so if ya game, hold her hand instead

has like....no boundaries. is always calling people to visit and inviting herself into people's lives and acting like a mother hen. also probably likes to ask people for blood tests bc she's a god damn weirdo that won't rest until there's some sort of vaccine

while she is not in a proper leadership position in her camp, she is somewhat outspoken about her beliefs and what is good for the camp and she is very big on education. it has always been quoted as "a way out" for her so that's what she keeps repeating, even in a dead world (dont tell her it's dead)

she has not been in contact with her dad for over 6 months so that's an Extra Source of Stress right now, and a reason she tries to take peeks at the beach and at new survivors whenever possible

Listen i wrote this Twice (bc my browser is shit) so dont judge this bad intro so badly and pls plot with me and this crazy sunshine like b! thanks!!