#i do NOT do things by halves xxx

[lilacthebooklover]

tmw you infiltrate the bestie's awesome whiteboard and get carried away in his absence

[httpsserene]

Hiiii

I just got done reading your masterpiece with the Austrian bread and got an idea.

What about the making of Aussie kids? Reader would have a baby fever and Toto would immediately be like ‘let’s make one’ and reader would cry out ‘ but I’m on birth control’

Pure chaos and smut

Sending positive vibes

𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐭. 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟

𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

summary: don’t bake a man’s favorite bread unless you want to have his kids. it’s a good thing you’re desperate to do exactly that. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. kitchen sex. pregnancy kink. baby fever. unprotected sex. vaginal sex. creampie. implied masturbation. implied age gap. reader and toto are married. breeding kink (i guess)? birth control. actual pregnancy. beta read by @biancathecool pairing: toto wolff x fem!black!reader genre: written fic (1.8k words).

from serene: here’s the part two to toasty, i hope it satisfies the requests i got for this! i personally don’t understand the thirst some of you have for toto but, i do respect it. maybe one day i’ll see what y’all do or somebody can educate me on it but, i do hope y’all are pleased with this one xxx

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A switch has been flipped in your brain—you’ve become more than insatiable for your husband. After he railed you on the counter for making his favorite bread, baking has become your entire personality. The way Toto looked at you after he tried your first attempt at an authentic pumpernickel bread changed how your brain fires. The mix of love and lust that filled his gaze had awoken an innate instinct within you: you need to have this man’s babies.

You’ve always claimed to be an independent woman, your dream was never to become a man’s accessory, or housewife, or tradwife. But, for Toto? For the way he looked at you as he had his first taste of your pastry? You’d set feminism back for a hundred years to keep getting fucked like that for the rest of your life. You spent an ungodly amount of money (Toto’s money) on baking utensils and you’ve pretty much been running a bakery out of your kitchen. Every few hours you’re shoving a pastry down your husband’s throat, eagerly awaiting his praise for each creation you seem to bake perfectly. 

Off-handedly around a mouthful of cinnamon sugar knots you baked, Toto moaned at the dessert melting on his tongue, seemingly in a daze when he murmured, “I’m going to get you pregnant if you keep baking like this.”

You laughed at his unexpected outburst, brushing it off as Toto hyperbolizing how great the dessert was. However, it was like the words infected your brain–every waking hour, you constantly thought about having his kids. And it didn’t help that once Toto heard you set a timer for the oven, he’d be tearing your clothes off and fucking you on the nearest surface. The kitchen island is a favorite, but there was an instance where he took you on the floor. Afterward, he claimed to be too old for sex on tiled floors, but you were too busy imagining growing a baby in your belly to care.

The severity of your baby fever is only realized when you reach into your nightstand to take your birth control and...you hesitate. You’re on the last week of pills, you should message your clinic to get a refill. Imagine a child, a mixture of you and Toto. And, you’re aware that pregnancy can be rough but you’d finally be able to decorate that spare room into a nursery instead of letting it collect dust. A baby; a combination of your best halves. Would they have your deeper skin tone, or Toto’s height, or your curls, or his nose, or your eyes? You could have your baby cradled to your chest as you bake for your husband, their father—

“Schatz?” Toto calls in question from his side of the bed, eyes concerned through the lens of his glasses, “You froze, are you okay?”

You shake the thoughts from your head, the smile you give him is slightly strained. You complete the monotonous motion of swallowing tonight’s allocated contraception with a sip of water. Tossing the packet back in the drawer, you speak, “Yes, I’m fine. I just realized that I need to order more birth control.”

His eyes examine your expression for a moment before he nods and offers a simple, “Hm.” in response. Toto fixed his eyes back on the book in front of him, and you ignore the disappointment that burns in your chest. Sighing mutely, you grab your phone and request a refill in your clinic’s online portal.

The next morning you’re awoken by Toto sweetly petting you awake, his thumb tracing lightly along your cheekbone. He murmurs an apology as he reveals that he’s going to be trapped in the home office today with back-to-back meetings concerning the looming Formula One season. You pouted even while you nodded your understanding, pleading for a kiss before you lost his attention for the day, which Toto happily divulged.

You busy yourself, prepping Toto’s favorite pastry and setting it to bake in the oven as early as possible. As a caring wife, you prepare meals for him and slip into his room to deliver them knowing he would forget to eat if you didn't remind him. You make sure his coffee never runs low, even if you switched to decaf after the second mug—he shouldn’t have too much caffeine at his age, you’d like to grow old with him eventually. To your dismay, Toto did not lie about being locked in the office. He was sequestered within those four walls well past sunset and as a result, you’ve produced enough baked goods in your free time to power the entire Mercedes factory for a week.

“I think we are going to have to discuss a limit for how many things you can bake in a day, schatz,” your husband sounds from the kitchen entryway, an awe-filled look on his face as he sees the bakery you’ve created. 

“The pumpernickel bread is still baking—would you like a cinnamon roll instead? Or a chocolate chip cookie? Or could I interest you in a slice of apple pie?”

You’re well aware that your curls are a mess in the loosely fastened bun dangling low on your head, you probably have streaks of flour and other various baking ingredients on your face mirroring the dirty surface of your apron. The unhinged baker aesthetic you’ve suddenly adopted is pulled together by the wide grin splayed across your lips. 

“I could eat all three,” Toto hums, his eyes darkening as he approaches you in the kitchen, fingers rushing to untie your apron, “—If you can help me work up an appetite.”

Various baked goods are shoved out of the way to make space for you to be bent over the island. Your flushed brown skin is cooled by the marble surface, nipples hardening quickly at the temperature but, it doesn’t stop you from spreading your legs and helping Toto tug your panties to the side underneath your skirt. He’s quick to press a finger within your entrance and pauses when the slide is too easy.

You squirm desperately, whining when Toto halts your hips from rocking backward on his hand.

“Schatz,” Toto murmurs, his free hand palming at your ass, “Did you—”

“Yes!” You cut him off, stomping at the delay, “I got bored waiting for things to bake—I’m ready, just fuck me.”

Thankfully, Toto is quick to listen to you and substitute his finger for his cock, his slacks unzipped enough to pull himself out. At the stretch, your eyes roll back and you lose the strength to hold your head up, letting it fall to press against the cool marble. You feel your husband still his hips but you reach your hand backward to grasp at his pressed dress shirt, using your grip to tug him forward, a non-verbal cue for him to keep sinking into you. He curses lowly and leans downward to rest his head on the back of your neck, pressing the remaining few inches inside.

Twin moans of pleasure are exhaled into the kitchen, Toto’s hands move to hold your waist, his clasp on your skin tight, reflecting the force he’s mustering to refrain from fucking into you without your approval. The burn from his girth fades quickly replaced by the feeling of fullness you’ve become addicted to. You roll your hips softly, moaning shakily at the drag of his length within you and Toto meets your rhythm smoothly. 

He fucks into you deeply, grunting on every other thrust in, you feel the breath of his chuckle ghost across your back when you fall limp in his hands; he’s well aware that you enjoy sitting pretty and taking what he gives you. Your cunt clings to his cock, the plush heat trying its hardest to disallow Toto from exiting, urging him to stay buried inside of you as he scrapes directly over your most sensitive points. 

Your husband straightens himself upright, pressing you firmly down on the counter with a hand in the middle of your back, his other hand slipping around to rest on your navel while keeping your hips angled upward for a better angle.

His thrusts become rougher and you can only scramble to hold on to the island, hands slipping from the sweat accumulated on your palms and skin. Your mouth is parted, drooling from the corner of your lip, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe through his thrusts, moans and gasps punched out of your chest, his cock hardened and pulsing within you, and your curls bouncing out of your bun and sticking to your back and forehead from the heat.

Toto’s hand presses into your belly, and he pants lowly, “You feel me right in here—I’m going to put a baby in you, schatz.”

You shudder in his arms, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to reply, and you swear you feel yourself become wetter at the image your husband planted in your mind.

“You can’t,” you whine out roughly, whimpering as the force of his thrusts rocks you up across the island, the ledge digging into your hips, “ah—’m on birth control!”

He grunts dismissively, patting his hand on your belly as his rough thrusts are exchanged for deep grinds, hitting places that send tantalizing rushes of pain along with pleasure up your spine, “Okay,” Toto huffs, “Stop taking it.”

You mean to ask clarifying questions, but he doesn’t let you get a word in as he continues to ramble about getting you pregnant.

“Fuck, I’m going to give you a baby, yes?” “—Going to be so pretty carrying our child.” “You’ll be such a good mum.”

The last one pushes you over the edge harshly, your nerves burning at the white-hot flash of pleasure, the sounds of Toto following you muffled to your ears as your orgasm floods your senses. You feel a dampness on your cheeks and it takes Toto wiping it away to realize you’re crying. His hips continue to slowly grind deeply within you, his cum painting your walls, and he pulls you upwards to press your lips together.

“You were serious,” your voice cracks embarrassingly as you moan the words into Toto’s lips, “About the birth control?”

“Yes,” your husband answers confidently, his words supported by a firm thrust of his cock that makes your eyes roll and body shiver, “If that’s what you want, of course.”

You hum, pleased at his response, “You need to remind me to call the clinic tomorrow to cancel my refill order.”

Toto grumbles incoherently, more concerned with toying with your nipples and kissing along your collarbone, “Yes, schatz—can you go again? I want to put a baby in you as quickly as possible. You would look so beautiful with a bump, no?”

5 weeks later you run out of the bathroom and leap into your husband's arms, brandishing a positive pregnancy test wildly. 

You laugh gleefully, tears of joy forming in your waterline, “I guess both of us are bakers now!”

“What?” Toto offers confused, trying to still your arm to grab the test.

“Both of us are bakers now! You put a bun in my oven!”

© httpsserene2024

[thesightstoshowyou]

I love your work so much! Would you consider writing number 28 for the man from Hush? I was so excited to see you talking about him haha, it's such an underrated movie! xxx

Thank you so much!!! Heck yes I will write for him! I’m also working on week 4 of bloodfest and it features this asshole 😁

I have a few other The Man stories on my Masterlist if you haven’t read those! ❤️

~~

28. "This is not what I expected."

Warnings: Predator/prey, blood, wrist trauma, heavy gore. Dead dove do not eat.

Blood drips into your eye and you hiss, thick crimson stinging and clouding your vision. You close it on instinct, your vision now halved as you sprint through gloomy forest. You don’t think to wipe it away; flight is the only thing on your panicky animal brain.

A loud twang echoes around the darkness, followed almost immediately by a startling crack as the bolt collides with a tree trunk inches from your head. Wood splinters, chunks scraping your cheek and clinging to your hair.

You shriek and duck, staggering to your left, your burning leg muscles barely managing to make the turn. Grunting, huffing, panting like a dog, you will yourself to keep moving, keep running!

Gripping a nearby oak, you use it as leverage and push, hurtling yourself forward into the brush. Twigs crack underfoot, foliage rustles, lungs gasp, blood leaks. You don’t risk a look behind you, but you must be putting some distance between you and your pursuer, how could you not be—

Your foot, your god damned foot catches on a root protruding from the earth. A shocked cry catches in your throat as you crash to the ground. Palms and knees split open and bleed when you attempt to catch yourself, your wrist crunching horribly under your weight. You roll once, twice, three times before you skid to a stop in a flurry of dead leaves and pine needles.

You fell! How could you fall? You need to get up, get away, this man is trying to kill you! Anger at your own stupidity forces you off the ground. Nauseating pain shoots up your arm and you whimper, cradling your wrist to your chest, reaching for a branch with your working hand. Get up, get—

TWANG

THUNK

All the air is knocked from your lungs. You’re tossed sideways when the crossbow bolt hits you in the waist, tunnels through your guts, and explodes out the other side just below your rib cage. It comes to a stop in the trunk of an alder, your viscera pinned to the tree by the dripping projectile. The end wobbles a few times before falling still.

Shock.

You feel nothing at first. The bolt went through you at such great speed your body has yet to realize the trauma it has sustained. All you can do is stare, wide eyed, mouth hanging open, lungs frozen and refusing to draw in air.

You may not be able to feel just yet, but you can hear. Boots crunch on undergrowth as your assailant approaches, plain white mask the only thing visible in the darkness.

“Oh no, this is not what I expected.” His words drip with sarcasm, his hands exaggerating his mocking body language. “All you animals fucking trip. Every single one.”

Air returns to your lungs and with it comes agony. Stabbing, wretched pain envelops your torso, but all you can do is gurgle, wet iron bubbling in your throat. Your shaking hands clutch uselessly at your abdomen, entry and exit wounds gushing blood until the dirt beneath you turns to mud

Crouching next to your twitching form, the man studies your injuries, then traces the path of the bolt until his gaze falls on the tree.

“Damn, what a shot, huh?” he exclaims. He makes a whooshing noise and a swooping motion with his arm. “Just straight through!” Pointing to the alder, he adds, “I think that’s your liver.”

Your vision blurs, the woods around you getting darker by the second. You’re thankful for it as the man pulls his knife from its sheath. Though, instead of using it on you, he lays the crossbow across his knees and begins carving something into the foregrip.

He shrugs, “Might be a bit premature, but I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna last much longer. Agreed?”

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Song for my Soulmate, pt 3

Part 1, Part 2 I know, I know... it’s been 84 years... I found this in my google docs...

XXX

Of all the weird things her job had offered, a Disney film festival might have been the strangest. The Big Man in the penthouse had decided it was a thing though, as a company social. It was hard to be social when you were concentrating on a movie, she’d thought when the event was announced, not realizing at the time that he did nothing by halves. 

When she’d headed down to the theatre on the third floor, the place was decorated up like it was an actual movie premier, complete with red carpet. There was a moment of intense awkwardness when she realized that her messy bun and yoga pants weren’t really red carpet attire. Looking around, she saw her fellow coworkers dressed to the nines, and turned to flee back to her apartment and get changed. Without looking when the elevator opened she stepped in and slammed into someone very solid. She looked up, an apology on her lips. But never managed to utter it. It was Captain America. She’d walked into Captain America. His hand steadied her and she gaped stupidly. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly and she took in the broad shoulders and narrow waist with some serious thirst. And then grew more mortified - what if he noticed?

“Ma’am, are you okay?” He asked. She nodded, and backed into the elevator, burning with embarrassment.

“Yeah,” she finally managed. “Sorry.”

The elevator doors closed and she escaped back to her place to get changed before heading back down to walk the red carpet into what might have been the most ridiculous staff function she’d ever attended.

XxX

Steve relaxed in his seat with a box of popcorn and a cola. He was near the back third of the theatre and as close to centre as he could manage. It was the perfect spot to watch a movie. Tony had schemed up the damn film festival when he’d admitted he hadn’t seen most modern Disney movies. He’d caught up on a few, of course, but in the grand scheme of things, cartoons hadn’t been of peak importance. Tony disagreed, and said life couldn’t continue until Steve had seen Mulan and Beauty and the Beast at the very least. 

Just as the film was opening, a pretty woman he thought might have been the one who’d walked into him slipped into the seat in front of him. Her hair was down now, a riot of messy curls that reached the middle of her back, and she wore a little black dress that was elegant in its simplicity. Compared to the faded yoga pants she’d been in when she’d darted onto the elevator, she almost looked like a different woman. It was the apologetic dip of her head to the people sitting beside her that gave her away.

The movies were enjoyable, and Steve appreciated Tony’s insistence that he see them. He found himself humming the music from Mulan as he headed up to his suite. It wasn’t until he was in the quiet of his bedroom, pulling on his pajamas that he realized the singing in his head wasn’t that of the actors in the movies. 

My girl will think I have no faults That I'm a major find How 'bout a girl who's got a brain Who always speaks her mind? My manly ways and turn of Phrase are sure to thrill her He thinks he's such a lady killer

The soft, feminine voice in his head was definitely not that of the rough soldiers in the movie. He grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial for Tony.

“She was at the movie tonight, Tony,” he said, instead of a greeting.

“How can you be sure?” Tony replied.

“I can hear her singing one of the songs from Mulan in my head.” Steve paused, listening as she started singing a different song from the movie in his mind. “And she doesn’t know all the words.”

“She doesn’t?” Tony laughed.

“Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns. Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons? You're the saddest something I don’t know, something else before we're through, Mister, I'll make a man out of you. Do those lyrics sound right?” Steve asked. Tony started to cackle.

“I’ll get JARVIS to scan the theatre footage from tonight, and isolate all the women who are unattached. We can start working through the list and find your girl in the morning,” Tony decided.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Steve asked.

“Are you kidding? As much as I give you a hard time, you’re a pretty great catch, Spangles,” Tony laughed again. “Meet me in the morning in my lab.”

[banjozsef]

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2024.01.28. Vasárnap

-------------------------

[insidemyhiddendrawer]

Sunday 2nd July 9:50pm

hiya folks, god my emotions have been so all over the place recently, I was mainly sobbing yesterday evening but today I was laughing pretty hard. What?

I tried a new coping mechanism yesterday, I recorded myself offloading what's on my mind onto a voice recording during my mental breakdown, it felt so weird to say it out loud and it wan't the same as thinking it to myself in my head if that makes sense but I think it might have helped a bit. they say a problem shared is a problem halved so I guess I just shared it to the void / the unfortunate future me who stumbles across it whilst trying to find a birdsong recording...

I watched Asteroid City in the cinema with my friend this evening, god I just loved the visuals but I'm still processing the storyline, you know sometimes it feels like Wes Anderson tries so hard to make his stories/dialogue deep that is ends up being superficial, also the fact that the whole 'point' of the film was slightly lost with the fact that it was a play, I don't think it was as successful as he though his movie pitch was.

Barbenheimer is approaching and both trailers were played in the correct order, Oppenheimer and then Barbie that is, I'm really SUPER exited for both films, its just a bit unfortunate they are both out on the same day... oh well. I think people forget that just because they come out on the same day doesn't mean you have to watch them on the same day, they will have more than one showing!

I also had my ballet exam this morning, my pirouettes were on fleek but there were some bits where I forgot the right direction or used the wrong leg EVEN WHEN I KNEW THE RIGHT ONE, I guess I just mess up under pressure sometimes, I'm hoping to continue at uni though so I don't feel as though this is a point where I should be the best because I will improve more after this final exam. I do feel a bit embarrassed about it but I mean I can't change it now, I could have always worked more on it but then I would have had to sacrifice some work from elsewhere and do worse on that, or at lease that's how I want to think about it.

Maybe this is a little too personal but I met someone new recently, who was really really really nice, kind and bubbly so I don't want you getting there wrong impression, but she said I should get checked out for ADHD, I don't know I guess I just hadn't considered my symptoms were actually related to that, I though it was just anxiety and dyslexia but the more I look into it the more similarities I see. I'm considering seeing a professional but I'm pretty bad at going to people about these things, I've pin pointed that its definitely because I'm scared they will diminish how I feel, mostly because its happened before at my previous school (and they were disproved later). But still, I don't know if a diagnosis would even help?

I'm so grateful to my best friend at the moment, maybe when I die they will find this account and read through all these posts and when they do, my darling best friend you have been so good to me and I hope I can repay you in however you need. So much love B

anyway, its late and I want to get up in good time to write an essay tomorrow, all the best xxx

[cheese-induced-madness]

For some reason I've become obsessed with psychonauts and word girl so how about some hc for dtb x fem reader who has psychic powers? She is technically a hero, but the thing is that she fights her battles quite differently than what he is used too. While most heroes fight psychically, she fights in the mental world and often saves people from themselves. just a thought

Can't say I know anything about psychonauts but I think I get the general premise you're going for. The concept of doing the whole hero thing in the mindscape is an interesting one given how the wordgirl villains seem to primarily wreak havoc on the physical side of things, even the ones with a focus on mental ability and intelligence.

To probably nobody's surprise at this point, I got carried away with this one again and ended up writing a ficlet as a point of reference for the headcanons. Hope that's cool with you, anon.

The fic is like, kind of heavy on the angst and maybe a little scary(?), but the headcanons after soften the blow with a happy ending, I promise.

Venn Diagram of the Minds

You don't exactly know what to expect from tapping into two connected brains at once. Would they think as separate entities in a shared headspace? Blend together as two halves of a whole? Was there any way to tell which thoughts belonged to whom? It was all new territory and you were positive it would be your most difficult opponent yet.

He doesn't notice when you sneak into his lair. He doesn't notice you creeping across the steel rafters above him. He doesn't notice how sleepy he is all of a sudden before he drifts off to sleep on his couch. Excellent. You're gonna need everything to run smoothly if you're going to make any progress with this one, even if this first mission is simply recon.

You try to ignore the pit in your stomach as you tap into his mind. You had a feeling this wasn't going to be pretty, but there was no turning back now. It was time. You closed your eyes, relaxed your body, and set your senses upon the two conjoined minds beneath you.

You swallowed your fear, and you allowed your own consciousness to dive in.

-xXx-

Bright, near blinding yellow is the first thing to enter your blurred vision. It almost hurts to look at. As the world around you becomes clearer and clearer, you start to make out your surroundings beyond just abstract colors, and you notice you're in a hallway, the floors and wallpaper mimicking the holed patterns of cheese.

Behind you, you hear the distant sound of high pitched squeaking and skittering footsteps. You look back, but the hallway seems to stretch on forever, the yellow walls reaching on and fading into darkness. Claw marks streaked across the cheese-print paper and the hardwood floors.

Yeah... You don't have time to unpack all that just yet.

You turn your gaze ahead once more and decide to press onward. The other end of the hallway was much brighter, albeit still dimly lit, but you could see the end of it so you thought it would make for a better first impression. Start with their best self, get to know the good qualities a little, then look at the bad with the context of the good in mind. Otherwise you might end up biased against them and that gets in the way when you're trying to help.

You reached the end of the hallway and came upon a doorway with no door. The hinges were still attached, broken and bent, and more claw marks were carved into the frame.

You try to ignore your own unease and press on, crossing the threshold and entering the room. The cheese-print walls remained consistent, but the furniture was more varied, and you were relieved to give your eyes a break, switching your gaze between the purple armchair, low walnut table and a couch in a tasteful shade of forest green. You had a feeling these walls were a very different shade, once upon a time. You drew closer to the low table, papers and a couple books messily strewn across it. Near the center was a book that drew your attention: "Superheroes and You: A Practical Guide by Prof. Steven Boxleitner." You remembered that name.

You never knew Dr. Two Brains before what happened to him, but the local hero tipped you off about the tragedy that made him turn to the life of a villain to begin with. It's why you were so interested in trying to fix things to begin with. You suppose you could be called bleeding-heart, but it's what you felt what right. Nobody deserves a fate like this.

While you paced through the room, examining anything that could give you hints about the mind you were dealing with, your thoughts were interrupted by a voice calling from another room.

"Squeaky, is that you?" the voice called. "I told you, little buddy, we're gonna get more cheese in the morning," a door opened, and out stepped- Dr. Two Brains? "Just wait a little- oh..." He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, and you were just as frozen. The first thing you noticed was his hair. It was much shorter and neater (though that was a low bar to clear), and instead of stark white, it was a much more plain shade of brown. The whites of his eyes were, well, white, instead of bloodshot pink, and his cheeks were noticeably lacking the whiskers he possessed in the material world. He stared at you, confused.

This was getting awkward.

He broke the silence before you. "Uh... hi... who are you and why are you here? It's supposed to be just me and Squeaky up here." His expression changed to panic. "Oh god, don't tell me he fused another brain to us without bothering to ask."

"No, no, nothing like that," you assured him. Well, that's worrying. "I'm just here to help, that's all."

His fear seemed to subside but his apprehension remained. "Help with what?"

"With, well..." you gestured around the room. "With all of this. You're in a bit of a unique predicament and I think I may be able to help you out of it. Let's be honest, do you really enjoy having a violent rat stuck to your brain?" you asked. His panic returned.

"Don't call him that, he's a mouse, and it's fine, I'm fine like this, I don't need help, I'm perfectly fine with having Squeaky around," he hurriedly denied.

You weren't buying it. "So the guy who literally wrote the book on heroism is totally fine with having his body taken over and used for crimes? You're totally cool with being constantly pressured into stealing cheese?" you pressed. "Do you even LIKE cheese enough to steal this much of it?"

You heard a hushed squeak from outside the room. And then another. And then three more. Squeaking and skittering and scratching on the walls from the other side, getting louder and louder. Steven looked terrified.

"Oh god, you made him angry," he choked out.

Before you could ask what was happening, you were almost suffocated by the onslaught of mice pouring into the room from the holes in the mock-cheese walls, screaming at the top of their lungs and circling you both. Steven tried to run, but a wave of rodents toppled him to the ground, swarming him. He screamed, muffled by the sea of fur and whiskers, drowned out by the endless cacophony of ear splitting, endless squeaking.

You looked down and sure enough, they were climbing your legs just the same. You kicked, trying to shake them off, clamoring to escape, to run back through the hallway and get as far away as you could, but you only made it a few steps before the tidal wave of mice knocked you to the ground as well.

A shriek cut through the barrage of noise at mind bending volume. It almost sounded like a pitched up roar. You craned your neck up to look down the hallway just in time to see a massive white mouse, bigger than a bear, charging directly at you, its sharped teeth the last thing you see before it all goes black.

-xXx-

Your eyes snap open and you gasp for air, your trance broken and tears threatening to fall. You try to calm yourself down, forcing yourself to take deep breaths, quieting yourself before you're heard.

Looking down, you don't think Dr. Two Brains is in a state to notice much.

He was curled in on himself on the couch, one arm tucking his legs close to him and the other holding the side of his head as a green energy swirled and crackled around his second brain like a thunderstorm. He was sobbing, shaking, pleading for it to stop.

"I'm sorry, Squeaky, I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry!!"

He let out an agonized cry, and you felt a pang of guilt. You knew the mouse brain was violent, but you didn't realize just how low he could stoop or how easily offended he was, otherwise you would've gone in with a great deal more care not to anger him.

You wanted to comfort him, to ease his pain somehow, but you knew it wasn't your place, the mouse hated you already and your presence right now would only make it worse.

He let out a cry of agony. It was getting painful to watch.

A door opened, and his henchmen rushed out to the couch to see what was wrong. They took one look at their boss, then exchanged a glance and a nod. The shorter of the two rushed out of the room while taller one rushed to his boss's side, immediately pulling him into a hug, which the doc reciprocated, clinging to the larger man like his life depended on it while he rubbed a steady hand over his back in slow circles. The shorter one came back with a block of cheese, taking his place on the other side of Dr. Two Brains, gently tapping him on the shoulder and holding it out to him. He quickly snatched it up and started tearing through it, scarfing it down in record time. This seemed to calm the aura clouding his second brain, and by extension calm him, so you presumed Squeaky had been more or less appeased.

You didn't entirely feel right just leaving after somewhat causing this mess without an apology, but it would have to wait. What mattered was that for now, he would be alright, and you would have your chance to fix things later.

You spared one last glance back at them, huddled up on the couch. It was good to know he had people that cared about him even as the top villain in the city.

You couldn't help but notice the henchmen had clearly seen you and were all staring straight at you, though the henchmen seemed to be too preoccupied with comforting their boss to really do anything about your presence. You keep your eyes locked for a moment before turning back around, hopping out the window you came in from and making your escape.

Dr. Two Brains stared at the window, expression unreadable.

"Did you know her, boss? Did she do this to you?" the shorter henchman asked.

"No," he replied, voice flat and hoarse from crying. "I suppose she's the new hero in town. Maybe she's taken an interest in me, who knows..." He went silent for a moment. "This is going to be interesting..."

-xXx-

Bonus Headcanons because I feel bad leaving it on a sad note:

-After your first encounter, dtb is VERY guarded around you. Steven isn't really mad at you, but he's biding his time to see what you'll do next. If he actively seeks your help, who knows what Squeaky will do.

-He wants so desperately to be free, or at least to have better boundaries with his mouse brain, but he can't voice that.

-You may have inadvertently caused the jekyll and hyde split in him to resurface a bit. It sorta phased out for awhile after the two brains learned to live with each other and Steven just kind of accepted that they'd be doing crimes as long as he didn't have full control over himself, but now that his loyalty to Squeaky has been called into question again, well... they haven't quite been getting along quite so well.

-Your subsequent trips into his minds are much more well prepared. The mouse flood caught you by surprise the first time, but not again, especially now that you've honed your defenses to keep them blocked out and keep Steven protected. You've also learned that it's best to completely knock Squeaky out before attempting to say anything that might offend him.

-It's not easy for Steven to open up about what it's been like, trapped in his own body like this. He trusts that you want to help him, but it's a lot to unpack and he hasn't even really come to terms with it all himself.

-You teach him methods to keep himself safe and to keep some of his own thoughts private. He may not be psychic by nature but he's got a damn strong understanding of psychology and neurology, so learning to better control his own mind comes fairly naturally to him. It's not a perfect solution, and he'll never be able to fully resist the mouse brain as long as it's attached, but Steven is certainly fairing better than he was before. You just hope he stays that way until you can find a way to separate them. But it does bring you some hope that when you next drop into his mind, the doorway on his side has a door again, this time with a lock.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

So I finally started to write another story...

I will try and post weekly, but can’t promise on account of real life and my inability to actually focus on translating what’s in my head onto paper (or screen!)

Getting the courage to post never gets any easier, but here goes. I hope you enjoy this frothy bit of fun. I will also post on AO3.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for being an excellent beta.

Chapter 1: From Airport to Aggravation

Bank holiday crowds, on the whole, are hell.

And this one is rapidly turning into an even deeper level of purgatory. The hottest May for years in Scotland and I’m stuck at Glasgow airport with a dozen women, collectively known as ‘Geillis’s Hen Party Posse’, each displaying varying degrees of inebriation, hangover or general sleep deprivation, and all aiming for the luggage carousel showing the flight from Barcelona. Which apparently is where several hundred other disembarked passengers are also heading.

Eventually, I manage to get a view of the bags and cases slowly making their way around the belt. They’re pretty picked over by this time, apart from the couple of boxes covered in gaffer tape that always seem to be first off a plane—any plane—and last to be collected. They’re always there, on every flight. Why is that?

I pause from my musings to wave frantically at Geillis, who now has a trolley and is clearing a path straight towards me.

“I got us a trolley.” she informs me, stating the obvious. “I thought it’d be easier. Have ye seen ours yet, Claire? I canna see the others. They must have already gone through.”

“No,” I answer, keeping my eyes firmly on the little hatch, willing our bags to appear. All I want is to go home, put my sleep mask on and try and get some sleep. Three days in Barcelona celebrating Geillis’s forthcoming nuptials have worn me out, and, I glance at my watch, I am due in theatre in approximately seventeen hours time.

"It's there, it's there," Geillis points excitedly at the neon pink and green leopard print bag making its way towards us.

She makes a grab for it as I continue to look for my bag. Predictably, it’s one of the last ones on the carousel. I recognise it immediately from the piece of red gift ribbon tied to the handle of the plain black Samsonite. I load it onto the trolley and Geillis and I head through customs to join the rest of the posse.

We say our goodbyes loudly, with much hugging and kisses. A stranger viewing this scene might imagine we won’t be seeing each other again for weeks or even months. In truth, I’ll be seeing most of them in the next week or so at the hospital as our schedules coincide.

“Shall we two get a taxi, then?” Geillis asks me.

I start to answer as my mobile pings — a text from Frank...very nice, very caring, very predictable.

Darling, it’s been a long three days without you. I am ready to collect you from the airport if you would like. If not, might I see you later this evening? xxx

And that is very clearly Frank. Correct grammar and punctuation, even on his texts. I shake my head as if to drive away my inner bitch and pretend I haven’t read it. I will respond, of course, just later when I’m back at home.

So, I smile at Geillis and agree. “Of course, we can go halves.”

***********

As I walk into my flat, the peace and quiet and sheer bloody calm wraps itself around me like a swaddling cloth. It’s blissfully cool too, with all the shutters closed.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good time in Barcelona. It was actually great. But being in the company of others twenty four hours a day is wearing, much as I love them. And we all had to do everything together. No sneaking off for a solitary walk, or escaping to bed for a little siesta.

I deposit my suitcase by the bedroom door, slip off my converse, pour myself a glass of orange juice, settle down on the sofa and figure out how best to tell Frank not tonight without offending him.

Frank, Sorry but tonight isn’t —

I delete and try again.

Thanks for the offer to pick me up. I was already in the taxi when I got it. Can we give tonight a miss? Theatre in the morning and I’m knackered totally exhausted. You know what Geillis is like. Speak tomorrow, I promise. C

Frank knows what Geillis is like. Frank thinks Geillis is a bad influence on me, with her larger than life personality and wild ideas. I think Frank doesn’t really know me at all if he believes I can be influenced like that. I hang out with Geillis and my friends because they’re fun and we laugh… a lot.

Without realising, I feel my shoulder muscles relax as soon as I’ve sent the message. These are not good signs for my relationship with Frank. He’s investing far more into ‘us’ than I am willing to do. But as long as I’m honest with him…

There are advantages to being with Frank, of course. He’s punctual, very organised and a proficient and considerate lover. He always makes sure I come, even if I sometimes...er… exaggerate my reactions to hurry things along. So much for honesty, then.

I finish my orange juice and plan my evening. Four things to do - unpack, grab some food, shower and sleep. Not even going to wash my hair. That would really be too much effort, struggling with my untameable mane, and it’s going to be stuck under a surgical cap for most of tomorrow anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually move from the sofa. I could quite happily fall asleep there. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night—starving hungry and still smelling of sweaty airports. Reluctantly, I haul myself into a vertical position and head for my bedroom picking up my suitcase en route.

Opening the suitcase, I am not greeted with the expected haphazard mass of sun dresses, t shirts and shorts—all with the evocative aroma of Hawaiian Tropic—but a layer of white dress shirts, immaculately folded and the faint scent of a musky cologne.

Shit, shit, shit!! Some else has walked off with my black samsonite with the red ribbon on the handle. My evening plans are rapidly going awry. I delve into my handbag praying that I kept my boarding pass with the sticky bar code luggage receipt. The relief when I find it lurking in the bottom of my bag is immense. Quickly I google the airline lost baggage number and dial.

After a few bars of some god awful plinky plinky hold music, I hear a recorded message. “Your call is important to us, please hold. Your call is important to us, please hold.”

Good to know, then back to the plinky plinky before another message. “The office you are trying to reach is now closed. Please try again during office hours nine am to five thirty. Thank you.”

“If my call is so important to you, why is no one there at six o’clock?” I yell down the phone, but the plinky plinky ignores me and continues its irritating melody.

I sigh. I don’t want to have to wait until tomorrow morning to sort this out. Besides, by nine am tomorrow morning, I will be somewhat unavailable - reshaping the hip bone of a seven year old boy. So, I have no alternative. I will have to have a bit of a dig around this stranger’s suitcase, looking for any clue or contact details.

As I start to have a feel around, it occurs to me that some stranger might, at this very moment, be doing exactly the same thing — having a poke around my suitcase in the hope of finding my details. No doubt judging me based on my choice of holiday attire.  And, I suddenly realise, his judgement may well be coloured by the discovery of some items of a more adult nature.

I say ‘he’, based on the XL white shirts, the pair of battered jeans and faded Scotland rugby shirt, but I could be wrong. I don’t have to dig any further into the case as I spy, in a mesh pocket, a neat rectangle of card with a name — James Fraser — a mobile number and an email address.

Relief sweeps over me. Perhaps we can get this all sorted tonight. Unless this James Fraser lives miles away and was just passing through Glasgow on his way to, say, the Outer Hebrides. That could be a whole other level of problem.

I quickly reach for my phone. Another message from Frank awaits.

Are you sure, darling? I’m looking forward to seeing you. Would tomorrow evening work for you?

I ignore it for the moment. Let me sort my luggage issue out first.

I dial the number on the card and begin to pace around my bedroom as it rings and rings. I am just about to give up when, thankfully, it’s answered.

“Hello?” A female voice asks warily.

I clear my throat and put on my most pleasant phone voice. “Is there a James Fraser there please?”

“Ye’ve the wrong number.”

“Oh, sorry, I must have mis—“ I begin, but find myself apologising to dead air.

I try again, carefully comparing each digit to those written, very neatly, on the card.

“Hello?” The same female voice answers, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but this is the number I have for James Fra—“

“And I already told ye, ye’ve the wrong number. Dinna bother again.”

In the days before mobiles, I’m sure this would have been accompanied by a deafening crash as the receiver hit the cradle. Pressing a soft key doesn’t have the same dramatic effect. But I get the message anyway.

So, new plan needed. All I can do is email this James Fraser and hope he actually has written down the correct email address. If not, I’ll have to sort it out with the airline tomorrow afternoon.

My stomach rumbles and I suddenly realise that I’ve not eaten since breakfast, unless you count the slices of fruit in my jug of sangria. I wander into the kitchen and peruse the contents of my cupboards and fridge. I’m not the most gifted cook, but I’m not too bad and can usually rustle up something edible and fairly tasty. The bread feels a bit on the dry side but will be fine toasted, and I know I have eggs.

I put a knob of butter in a pan and text Frank while I’m waiting for it to sizzle.

Think tomoz will be ok. Talk 2morrow. C

I don’t normally use text speak at all,  but something about Frank’s perfectly formed text messages always makes me want to rebel. I can imagine him wincing right now.  He’s a professor at the university and is forever complaining about the standard of literacy amongst his undergraduates. If he thinks he has problems, he should try dealing with junior doctors.

With my scrambled egg on toast all eaten, I focus my attention on the email to James Fraser. I write it quickly, brief and to the point: I have your suitcase and therefore presume you have mine, can we meet to swap them over and here’s my phone number.

The longing for a shower and then bed is now overwhelming. I strip off and bundle all my clothes into the laundry basket, tie my hair up with a scrunchie and step into my shower. This is undoubtedly one of my favourite places on earth and possibly the reason that I bought this flat. Large enough for two, I suppose. Although none have yet been invited to partake in this heavenly experience. Maybe I’m saving that for someone extra special. It has a huge overhead rainfall shower head and a handheld shower head too.

My indulgences are all in here — a selection of expensive shower gels, scrubs and lotions and an assortment of huge fluffy bath towels. I choose a lavender scented gel and scrub all traces of the day from my skin.

Wrapping myself  in one of my pristine white towels, I slather shea butter lotion on my slightly sun-burnt skin, noticing the uneven red patches where the sun cream hadn’t quite reached but at least it’s not sore.

A quick check of my emails shows there’s no word from James Fraser as yet, so I decide to just settle down to sleep and leave luggage worries until the morning. Fortunately, I had changed the sheets before my weekend away, so I simply unwrap my towel, leaving it in a heap on the floor and slide into bed. The feeling of the cool, crisp bedding against my skin is wonderful. I assume a sort of diagonal starfish position, not having to worry about any other occupants. It crosses my mind whether to reach for the tiny vibrator in my bedside drawer, but I’m too comfortable and drowsy for that, so instead I check my alarm and settle down for sleep.

[aspiestvmusings]

WandaVision Thoughts: Ep 8

Warning: Contains SPOILERS up to the end credits scene of ep 1x08. And “speculation” about the Finale.

1. I was wrong about several things in my theories. But I was pretty close with some other things.

2. I still presume the  timestone blast in “inifity war” might have made her even more powerful/unlocked more of her powers, but her backstory revealed that she “absorbed” the energy from the stone during her first contact with it....already, also .She is literally a living infinity stone...in a way. She absorbed the “energy” of the stone & is connected with the stone...as we’ve seen throughout the MCU history. And she’s kinda “absorbed it twice”? (so, in a way, she has been carrying VIsion’s soul inside her for a while... so makes sense she would “create” him, because they are literally of the same mind(stone))

3. All. The. Colours. ... Differen t colours of their powers/magic... coming from all these characters: Blue. Purple. Yellow. Red... The colours of the infinity stones. The colours of “characters powers”.... All the colours of the rainbow/spectrum. I completely see the last shot of the show being a rainbow above WestView (cause the colours of everyones powers are the colours of the rainbow...)

4. My theories were wrong, because I  based them on the hypothesis that she cannot create things from nothing...that she can just change their “dna” & shape. If I had presumed that she can create things from nothing, I might’ve been more accurate about...Vision...and more. She seems to have created vibranium, an infinity stone, and a soul... “out of nothing”... when she/her grief created a vision... UNLESS... that was an incorrect guess by Agatha, and Hex Vision is more like his episode 2 stage name suggested... an Illusion. Though I have a hard time believing/understanding it, I’ve tried to accept that in comics & fiction things that don’t follow laws of physics can be & are true. And she did create Vision from “nothing”..even if in real world that is impossible...

5. In the past few days before ep 8 I had started to believe the theories about “double vision”. And unless there is also a cameo coming with an appearance of some other actor, Paul Bettany’s comment about doing a scene with an actor who he had always wanted to work with was... the best joke ever... cause he was most likely referring to himself. And the way it is similar to the “Luke Skywalker” Mandalorian camero is not because of the actor, but because of the CGI used. I love that this is most likely the answer here. [and in that case I kinda think that the “fireworks” could be a scene similar to when Tony asked Jarvis to activate the Clean Slate Protocol in IM3, cause we are dealing with more than  one “copy” of the same “tech” here... & they can be blown up like that...]

6. We also got a much more clearer look on Hayward’s evil plans. And I'm now seriously starting to suspect the theories that connect WV to AoU...in a meaningful way. I’m not gonna say it, but I think you get my point. We’ve all known all along he’s up to no good. Even if he is “just” another “government baddie” and not Ultron’s puppet/puppeting Ultron. And I'm still unsure if he is aware that he’s essentially waking up Ultron or will that be a surprise to him...

7. Paul Bettany’s journey in MCU is about to become full: he started as the VOICE of JARVIS (AI/machine) that Tony built/created. He then appeared in physical form (body and voice) as The Vision since AoU. And now it seems possible that we’ll see him play Vision, while someone else provides the VOICE over for the character. But we also know, “thanks” to Spiderman 2 (released last year, but taking place several months after WV events in the MCU) that the Vision we have known & loved does not survive this hex reality. I wish there’ll be a surprise twist, but I sadly doubt it. 

Before the show started to air, I had no doubt the character was done... I was 99% sure there is no way he could come back & WV is just a dream or something like that. But as the show has progressed, Ive started to think there are ways it could happen. None of them really fit with the shows theme & point. Just like Tony had to die for the sacrifice to be as impactful Vision has to die/remain dead for Wanda’s grief journey to come to a conclusion. She has to reach the final stage(s) of grief, accept the loss & move on. Though... we can arue that Vision could live & she finally deals with the greif for her parents & brother. And/Or Vision “lives”, but it’s not her Vision...she can’t feel him. So he starts his journey from the start...to learn to be “human”, etc. 

I mean.. I wish we would get the merging of the two (sides) of Vision - the soulless body of whitevision + the “created by Wanda” Vision with soul (even if with no memories of pre-hex). But based on Spiderman 2: FFH “in memoriam” clip Vision is one of the fallen avengers next to Tony & Nat. But then again, Steve/Cap was also in that clip, so perhaps there is still hope... that Wanda/the hex will merge the two & this is how we/Wanda gets her Vision back. And it’s just kept under wraps. And if it’s not Ultron, then the greatest twist would be if RDJ would provide the new Vision’s voice (until he “gets his soul back”). I mean.. Paul Bettany provided the voice for Tony’s AI/suits, so that’d be a huge thing

8. I hope everyone understood that the town was a mess because it’s literally a few weeks after the Blip. 5 years ago Thanos snapped half of life away, and this is the outcome of it...the small town was probably full of life before that, and now its just “in ruins”. When Vision (and Wanda) bought that property/land it/the town did not look so sad. This is all the result of the snap. And this is why, I think, the word “snap” appears several times on the show (cereal box, add on wall)

9. The origins story from the experimentation with the mind stone scene had the same kind of “rewind” stuff as Wanda’s sitcom episodes. The watchers (blinded by the blast) seem to miss a part of the show. And now Darcy & Jimmy & team seem to miss parts of the show. We are shown that this is kind of due to Wanda “rewinding time”. So...she posesses the “power” of several infinity stones, kinda, it seems.

10. I’m starting to think that perhaps one theory that was flooting around is correct. The “Wanda arrives to Westview” scene where she sees several of the residents could imply so. We only see one part of each couple. And within each couple the one who “glitches” (Mr. Hart choking in ep 1, Vision malfunctioning cause of gum in ep 2, etc..) is not seen, only their other half. So is the town “in ruins” not just because of the blip? Maybe it was populated by people who lost their loved ones in the Snap & all moved to this town after that? And hence weren’t at the place their other half was returned to now, 5 years later? Or...the other halves are all dead, and hence everyone looked sad & alone? Maybe it was more thaan just the chaos creted by the snap & blip? 

11. Where were Vision (who was flying back to the house) & Monica + Fietro? during this episode? Well..all of ep 8 happens in just a few moments... simultaneously to what was happening with Vision(/Darcy and Fietro/Monica in the end of ep 7, so...they will arrive..soon.

12. I do not know how it could happen or work (considering what we already know to be true), but since they pointed out in episode 1 that “The death rate of single men is twice that of married men" & Hex Vision is married, while White Vision is not (also...will he remain himself when entering the hex or will he chanage form to fit the year/era that episode 9 is set in...which, I’d say might be a decade before rel time 2023, because the boys are 10... cause this version is essentialy a machine, so if it doesn’t match the era, then the hex changes it), then that would lead me to speculate that Hex Vision defeats White vision.  So now the question remaims if the vibranium/empty shell will remain or will it be vaporized... cause if the materils cotinue existing they can still re-built/re-create Vision in future. Cause unless both die, and unless some otehr surprise (going through the hex changes Hex Vision and/or he has competed his journey & become a separate indivudual, a real  being, then there’s no way he can survive outside/without the hex. But that quote tells us which Vision wins the fight 

xxx

[carbonatedcosmo]

all the fandom questions for DMC

OH THAT’S NEARLY ALL OF EM LMAO THIS IS GONNA BE A DOOZY

“What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?”

ok so i know a pretty good portion of the dmc fandom is SUPER on board with nero x kyrie but like??? they’re basically adopted siblings??? and i HATE the adopted sibling romance trope so in my personal dmc canon nero and kyrie do love each other but Only As Siblings

“Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?”

again, nero x kyrie! the way i see it, nero sees kyrie as his sister and kyrie sees nero as her brother because nero grew up with her in an environment that would lend to their relationship being more like that of siblings

“Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?”

uuuuhhh yes?? kind of??? they were someone who shipped nero x v, which is a ship im not overly comfortable with myself but that’s all i’ll say on that

“Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?”

uuuuuuhhhhhh???? i’ve seen a decent amount of fanart of vergil x dante like. come ON they’re BROTHERS stop making them KISS

“Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?”

uh? not that i can recall? i used to be on board with nero x kyrie myself but then i remembered that in kyrie’s character description in dmc4 it says her relationship with nero is that of a “brother, friend, and lover all in one” and that’s the fault of capcom themselves for describing the relationship that way, not necessarily the fandom’s fault

“Most disliked character(s)? Why?”

none i like all of them they’re all amazing

except arkham. absolute garbage dad in dmc3, lady deserved a better father than him

“Most disliked arc? Why?”

hm. im not really sure? i think all of the main characters have pretty decent arcs tbh

“Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?”

are there any unpopular characters in the dmc fandom??? i have no idea. i’ve seen a little bit of hate for nero (mostly in youtube comments) but idk if that counts. if it does, fuck those people nero’s baby and i adore him

“Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?”

again, i don’t think so? i don’t really get too into the discourse in the dmc fandom so i don’t have a full grasp over what’s popular and what’s not. though, i do recall seeing a bit of stuff about how people don’t like that v seems to have just been a one-off character and how they wish he could’ve been a completely separate character from vergil, but, as short as it was, i enjoyed v’s arc! i think, in the time that vergil’s human and demon halves were separated, v was able to grow a little and also sort of begin to start healing from his trauma when vergil wouldn’t let himself deal with it properly, and since v realized how important everything he threw away really was, i think vergil retained that when he became whole again and i think it’s really cool!!!

“Unpopular opinion about XXX character?’

SLAMS MY HANDS DOWN. LADY AND TRISH ARE BADASS QUEENS AND I AM LITERALLY SO MAD THAT THEY’RE ONLY IN DMC5 TO BE SEXY. THE ONLY THING THEY DID THAT IMPACTED THE PLOT EVEN A LITTLE WAS UNWILLFULLY BE SERVANTS OF URIZEN AND WHEN THEY WERE PULLED OUT OF THE DEMON BODIES URIZEN TRAPPED THEM IN THEY WERE NAKED AND A POINT WAS MADE OF SHOWING OFF THEIR BODIES AT LEAST A LITTLE AND I THINK THEIR POTENTIAL WAS WASTED 

“Unpopular opinion about your fandom?”

why do so many people in this fandom seem to ship spardacest of any degree. why. can i just go through the dmc5 tag without seeing vergil smooching his son or vergil smooching his brother or v smooching nero or-

“Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?”

nothing the dmc anime is perfect in every single way

“If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?”

nothing the dmc anime is perfect in every single w-

“Instead of XYZ happening, I would have made ABC happen…”

ok there are very few moments in the game i would replace with something new entirely, but i would add nero calling urizen a whore at least once like just imagine nero gets yeeted into a wall by urizen and he just goes “ow...whore” like that’d be so fucking funny

“Does not shipping something ‘popular’ mean you’re in denial and/or biased?”

absolutely fuckin not my dude sometimes you’re just not on board with the most popular ships in the fandom and that’s totally okay! as long as ur not shipping incest or any kind of abusive dynamic i literally dont care if you don’t ship the popular ships

“What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?”

*inhales deeply* spardacest

“What is the purest ship in the fandom?”

ok i’ve seen literally NO ONE ELSE who ships these but lady x trish and nero x nico. lady and trish are lesbians that are dating each other and my proof is that episode of the anime where lady and trish don’t know each other so they’re fighting because trish is a demon and lady’s someone who hunts demons and trish was just trying to Not Die so they fight for the whole episode but then they find out that they’re each a friend of dante’s so they go and buy a bunch of expensive clothes together and send the bill to dante and that was their first date and now they’re girlfriends and idk man nero and nico just have a fun dynamic that made me go “they’re totally dating each other”

“What are your thoughts on crack ships?”

ok so like, in general, crack ships are fun as hell just for some shits and giggles but i haven’t really seen any crack ships in the dmc fandom??? though i think there’s plenty of potential there for a few of those and im interested to see if the fandom will come up with any crack ships!!

“Popular character you hate?”

none i absolutely adore all of them

“Unpopular character you love?”

are there any unpopular characters in this fandom? are there??? though i guess if i wanna go back to what i said about seeing a little bit of nero hate (again, mainly in youtube comments), i absolutely LOVE nero and to those people who say he doesn’t have a lot of character: yes he DOES you’re just not LOOKING HARD ENOUGH

“Would you recommend XXX to a friend? Why or why not?”

OH YES ABSOLUTELY, bro even though i certainly have my gripes about the dmc franchise, it’s SUCH a good series in spite of all that! the combat system is pretty neat (and only gets better in the later games), the music is absolutely bangin, there’s so many fun, iconic characters, the story is, for the most part, incredibly engaging and compelling, and honestly pretty much the whole series is just a family squabble but if everyone in the family was superpowered by having demonic heritage and OH YEAH THEY HAVE SWORDS

“How would you end XXX/Would you change the ending of XXX?”

i wouldn’t end the dmc series any differently than capcom did!! i really enjoy that dmc5 ended with dante and vergil finally settling their differences and ending their lifelong rivalry (after nero bitch slapped dante and beat the shit out of vergil), and it looks like dante and vergil’s story has come to a very satisfying end! i don’t see where else capcom can go with the twins, but if they do make more dmc games, i would absolutely love to follow more of nero’s adventures and see how he continues to grow, both as a person and a devil hunter!!! you hear me, capcom??? give me more content with my hyper wild boy or i’ll personally come kick your asses

“Most shippable character?”

hm. im gonna say dante, i think!! let the man have a boyfriend

yeah i said it dante’s gay whatcha gonna do about it

“Least shippable character?”

vergil. definitely vergil, but that’s only because i personally see him as aromantic! i think he certainly wants to be loved, yes, but less in a romantic sense and more in a familial sense, ya feel? i would love to see him interact with nero more and see how he navigates that relationship, because i think it would be really interesting to see how he takes to having a son of his own!! but that’s a discussion for another post entirely; i view vergil as aromantic so he’s not really looking for a romantic relationship with someone but that won’t stop (and hasn’t stopped) him from sleeping with people lmao

was that all of them? i think that may have been all the fandom related ones but please let me know if i missed any!! hoo boy it feels good to go off about this LMAO

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 2

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 2 of ?

Part 1 // 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.  I’ll make a header image at some point.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a heavy weight settling on Billy’s chest as the morning sun falls through the curtains. As he lifts his head off of the pillow a pair of copper coloured eyes stare back at him. The cat softly snuggled up on his chest, is more the size of a small child than a cat. It’s big and orange and looks like it’s got no care in the world as it rests on Billy’s ribcage.

Billy lets his eyes wander around the room, trying to take in as much as he can. It’s a tiny room with a couch that’s way too small for him to sleep on properly, but incredibly comfortable nonetheless, and a tv pressed against the opposite wall. There’s a dirty ashtray resting on the couch table next to a seventeen magazine and a vial of bright red nail polish. 

(Y/N) lives here alone, safe for the monster of a cat, he’s figured out this much. There’s hardly room here for a visitor, much less another person. God, what he wouldn’t give for a place of his own. Some place that isn’t tainted with anger and sadness and bad feelings all around.

“ Oh, you’re awake. Great, I made breakfast ! “ 

Billy leans up a little further, resting his weight on his elbows and yet the cat shows no intentions of actually moving off of him.

(Y/N) is leaning against the counter of the kitchen that’s connected to the living room. There’s a light blue fridge flanked by bright orange cabinets and a rusty sink and a stove that seems like it’s about to fall apart any second. It all looks like a downright mess and still Billy finds himself envious. Because no matter how big of a mess, it’s solely hers. 

“ Your cat is suffocating me “ his voice is rough and still soaked with sleep and exhaustion.

“ I told you he’s fat and clingy. He likes you though, that’s good. “ 

“ What’s he do to people he doesn’t like ? “ 

“ Pees on them. “ 

“ Geez “.

Slowly Billy sits up further, the cat slowly sliding down from his chest and into his lap. 

“ Just pick him up and put him down somewhere else. “ (Y/N) directs him nodding her head towards the orange furball.

Billy does as she says, getting off the couch and placing the cat back down, before walking over towards the kitchen area of the apartment.

“ Here. Breakfast for champions “ (Y/N) exclaims and hold out a bowl of what looks to be lucky charms and a spoon. It’s a plastic bowl, a bright orange one that looks like a basketball. He remembers having one of those when he was little. It was his favorite and mom always used it to serve him alphabet soup when he was sick.

“ Thanks. “

“ Sure thing. That’s a pretty gnarly looking fist you got there. “ 

Billy glances down towards his hand. It’s red and swollen and bruised and it looks ridiculous holding onto the basketball bowl. Like his present is holding onto a part of his past that he can never go back to. A part of his past that seems like a whole lifetime ago. That feels like a whole different person all together.

“ Whatever “ 

And really, it is whatever. In the grand scheme of things it’s just a bruised first and some bloody knuckles. The implications of it to be forever his and only his to know about. 

“ So do you do this often ? “ he asks, trying to steer the topic away from himself and his wounds, visible and invisible. 

“ Do what exactly ? “ 

“ Let strangers sleep on your couch. “ 

“ You’re starting to sound awfully ungrateful there Hargrove. And that even though I made you breakfast ?! “ 

“ You poured a bowl of cereal “ 

“ Your point ? “ 

And it’s then, that Billy has to crack a smile. It’s not as if he doesn’t smile during his day to day life. He does. A lot. Only usually they come in order to get something in return.

The smiles come whenever he wants to get a girl into his bed. Whenever he charms the ladies at the swimming pool. Whenever he tries to sweet talk his way out of a situation.

This one comes from some place else. He doesn’t get anything in return. He doesn’t need anything in return.

Sometimes a smile is just a smile and that is all it needs to be.

“ How old are you ? “ 

“ Excuse me ? You’re kinda giving me whiplash here with the change of topics. “ 

“ Yeah that didn’t answer me question at all “ he says and shoves another spoon of lucky charms into his mouth.

“ I’m 17, almost 18. I’m in my senior year. “ 

“ And you live here by yourself ? “ 

“ Yup. Got emancipated when I was 15. “ 

He almost chokes on his cereal at that confession. It’s not something he has been expecting. Sure he was aware that something must be going on in her life but things must be pretty rough for someone to get emancipated at 15. 

Again he finds himself envious. Of the freedom. The independence. Of all the possibilities she has. The one he can’t even dare to dream about, living with Neil.

Envy is ugly and mean and cold and it comes with anger and resentment that directed towards people who do not deserve it in the least. He tries so hard to keep it at bay, shove it down to rest with all the other emotions, all the rest of the baggage. He knows one day it’s all gonna boil over. It comes in little bursts every once in a while but one day, one day there’s gonna be a big meltdown. One that’s gonna sweep over everything like a tidal wave. Like one of the real big ones he used to surf back in California. Back Home. Back when things were better and mom was around and his chest wasn’t feeling so heavy. 

“ Damn, what happened ? “ 

“ That is none of your business. Just uh — you’re not the only one who’s family life isn’t all sunshine and daisies. “ 

There’s something in her eyes as she says that, that seems oh so familiar to Billy. Not because he’s seen it before but because he knows that gleam, he’s felt it before. So many times over so many years. 

People say that misery loves company. That a trouble shared is a troubled halved. He thinks that bullshit. People who say this live comfortable lives. They don’t know real misery, haven’t lived through it.

Billy doesn’t ever want to see the pain he feels in other people. Not that same kind of pain. Physical one he’s caused his fair share of, but emotional pain ? Nah. That’s something he doesn't ever want to see in another one’s eyes. And as it stares back right at him from (Y/N)’s (Y/E/C) eyes, it doesn’t feel like his pain is halved, it seems twice as heavy, twice as painful.

“ Look, that actually brings me to my next point. You gotta get outta here. I need to leave for work in about 20 minutes so … “ 

“ Volunteering isn’t until 4 today, it’s sunday you gave me the schedule. “ 

“ Yeah well, Billy Idol, volunteering doesn’t pay my rent. I work at a diner. “ 

“ A diner ? No way. Do you have a little apron and everything ? Pencil behind your ear ? “ he teases, finishing his bowl of cereal and placing it in the sink.

“ Would you believe it if I told you I even got roller skates ? “ (Y/N) replies and pulls up her lip in distaste.

“ No fucking way “.

“ I wish I was lying. “ 

“ Here in Huckley ? “ 

“ Mmmh… “

“ Dammit, I knew Hawkins was a shithole. Can’t believe this even tinier shithole has a diner with roller skating waitresses and Hawkins does not. “

“ Ah don’t worry, they’re not all as hot as me. You’re not missing much. “ as she says it, she’s smiling and the hurt in her eyes is almost gone. But once he’s noticed it, Billy is sure he will never fail to find it again. It’s always there. Simmering. It’s part of her just as it is part of him. It never goes away, at least he hasn’t experienced that. Maybe someday in the future it will. He hopes so. He really truly hopes so.

“ Bummer. “ 

“ I know. Anyway, you gotta go. “ 

“ Geez, you’re hurting me babe. Usually it’s me kicking the girls out of my bed. “

“ I’m sure your ego will survive. I’ll see you at volunteering later, right ? “ 

“ Court ordered, remember ? “ He says, slipping on his jacket and boots and walking towards the door.

“ I’m sure you’ll have a good time today. We’re doing arts and crafts “ 

“ What ? I haven’t done any arts and crafts since 4th grade. “ 

“ Well then it’s about time your start again, huh ? “ 

“ Are you shitting me right now “.

“ Oh Billy, I would never !” 

- XXX -

When Billy arrives back home, he’s grateful to see Neil’s car is not there. Sooner or later he’s going to have to deal with the situation but he sure as hell is preferring “later”. 

The thing with Neil is that whatever he does, it’s never predictable. Sometimes he’ll yell, sometimes he gets physical and sometimes, those are the worst times, he says things. Mean things. Things that he knows very well will hurt Billy. Things that feel like a stab right into the heart. 

There’s a sick sense of pride in Neil’s face whenever he has one of those days. Like hurting Billy brings him satisfaction. A weird gratification.

It’s disgusting. And sad. And it makes Billy so furious. If Neil wasn’t like this, so sick and twisted and always angry, mom would still be here and they’d still be in California and he’d be a normal teenager with normal problems. No bruised knuckles, no black eyes. A teenager that wouldn’t have to be afraid to come home. Home, this place doesn’t even feel like home. It never did. It probably never will. 

Billy doesn’t know where exactly home is. It’s not here though. 

He slowly trudges through the house, taking note of Susan’s shoes being gone as well. She always leaves them by the door because “ that’s just the way people do it”. Like a proper little housewife keeping her proper little house neat and tidy for her proper little family. It’s making him sick. There’s a lot of anger in him directed towards Susan. Some of it is justified. Some of it is not. He knows he shouldn’t fault her for what happened with his mother. Susan isn’t the one who drove her away. Susan didn’t smack her around day in day out. Susan isn’t the one who decided to just up and leave, forgetting all about her son. Susan has done none of that and he knows he can’t resent her for this.

There’s part of his animosity towards her that is more than justified. She knows what’s happening sheltered behind the walls of this house. She hears it and sees it. This woman has a front row seat to Billy’s misery and she does nothing. Just watches and waits and stays silent. To top it all off, she brings her daughter into this place. Billy wonders if it was Max instead of him, would she still be watching. Would she act ? Despite his problems with Max, he hopes he never has to find out. He doesn’t trust Susan to stop the watching and actually act. 

A mess of red locks dashes around the corner and collides with his chest effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“ Watch it, shitbird. “ 

“ Sorry “ Max murmurs then hurries past him, only stopping just before the front door, hand already on the handle.

“ Billy ? “ 

“ What ? “ 

“ Are you okay ? “ 

Is he okay ? Yes. Billy is always okay. It’s his default setting at this point. Billy Hargrove — okay. There’s a certain amount of pain you can go through until you become kind of used to it, kind of numb. It seeps into your system and settles deep inside your bones and becomes a part of you and before you know it that’s your normal and you’re okay. But is that really a way to live ? He wonder often. To only be okay, never fully happy. Halfway happy at best. Always okay never more. 

Billy is okay — but he really doesn’t want to be anymore. Okay is not enough.

“ Yeah. Why ? “ 

He knows Max cares, that’s just the person she is. She cares deeply even if she hides it under a veil of teenage rebellion and girl power. He doesn’t want her to, can’t really let himself accept the fact that she cares. Max, with all her spunk and sparkles, is a constant reminder of the life that was taken from him. One with a mother who loves him. One who doesn’t run off and leaves her to fight for her own survival.

And yeah maybe Susan just silently watches but at least she’s there. At least she loves Max enough to be there and no abandon her.

Billy wishes he could let go of the negativity and just accept Max affection. But he can’t. He can’t. Affection that isn’t sexual, is not something Billy ever really gets to keep in his life so it’s better not to feel it at all than to feel it and have it taken away again at some point.

“ I dunno. Just — last night “ 

“ Yeah, whatever. Just forget it alright ? It’s none of your business anyway. “ 

“ Alright, god. I was just asking. “ 

“ Yeah well don’t !” he calls out to her before rushing into his room, slamming the door behind him.

As he looks at himself in the mirror, Billy can hardly recognize the person staring back at him. It’s been like this for a while. He feels very detached from it all. Like he’s living a life through a hazy filter, clouded by anger and agony. His mom would be disappointed in him. For dealing with things the way he does. For treating people the way he does.

Then again, his mom has given up the right to judge him when she pissed off and left him behind.

A glance at the clock lets him know that he’s still got a few hours before he has to be back at HHTCY. He presses play on his stereo and Metallica sounds through the house at a deafening volume.

What he needs now, is a smoke and a shower and in that order.

- XXX -

“ Why are we doing this again ? “ Billy asks as he helps (Y/N) distribute the arts and crafts supplies to all the kids.

“ It helps “.

“ Helps with what ? Confirming that someone is crazy ? “ 

“ No one here is crazy you asshole. No it helps with dealing with stuff. “ 

“ Does it now ? Is that what you say or what the looney doctors tell you ? “ 

“ Look “ (Y/N) says as she places a set of paint brushes on one of the desks “ this is fun for the kids and the experts say it helps them so who am I to question that ? I’m just a volunteer, hell I still go to Highschool “.

“ Oh yeah, you don’t go to Hawkins High do you ? I would’ve seen you. “ 

“ You would’ve not but uh — no. I go to school here in Huckley. Huckley High, Home of the Huckley Honey Badgers. “ 

“ Huh, “ Billy says and suavely leans against the supply closet “ didn’t think this tiny shithole had it’s own High School. And with it’s own team and mascot too. Impressive. “ 

“ Lose the snarky remarks please. I’ll let you know Honey Badgers are vicious and mean and dangerous, okay ? “ (Y/N) remarks and waves around the brush she’s got in her hand, pointing it at Billy every once in a while “ but yeah, it’s just a tiny High School. No big deal. I bet your School in California was different huh ? “ 

“ Was just a fucking High School like any other. Wait — how do you know where I’m from ? “ 

“ You have a California license plate, “ (Y/N) replies before turning away from him “ and I may have read your file. “

“ You did what ? I — that is 100 % against company policy ! “ 

“ Yeah well so is smoking on the premises and I didn’t rat you out so I guess we’re even. I had to know what I was dealing with here. “ 

He’s not mad really, it’s not like there’s things in there that he doesn’t want anyone to know. The things he keeps hidden aren’t written down in any file, they’re in his heart locked away from prying eyes. Safe. Secure.

“ Hey (Y/N), there’s a call for you”. Another volunteer, Jeff, says motioning towards the back office adjacent to the arts room.

“ A call ? “ 

“ It sounded urgent, I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me his name. “ 

So it’s a he. A boyfriend maybe ? 

Billy quickly shakes that thought from his mind. That’s not a mess he wants or needs to get into right now. Is she cute ? Yes, she’s gorgeous but things are all around fucked up at the moment and he doesn’t need to add a heartbroken coworker into the mix. You don’t fuck around at work, that’s common knowledge. 

“ I told you not to call ! I work here, how did you even get this number. “ he picks up bits and pieces of the conversation that (Y/N) whisper-yells into the phone. Maybe not a boyfriend after all.

“ Well don’t. Don’t call again. Leave me alone. “ when she hangs up the phone, she leans against the wall for a moment, letting out a big breath. Something is weighing on her, it’s clear as day and thought Billy doesn’t want to get involved with anyone else’s problems, he’s still curious about what just happened.

“ You alright ? “ he ask when she comes back “ boyfriend ? lovers quarrel ? “.

“ Fuck off, Billy “ (Y/N) replies, all joking and teasing gone from her voice. She looks around for a second to see if any of the kids have picked up on her swearing. They didn’t or if they did they don’t seem to care. 

Lydia stands in front of the class, telling the kids some pseudo deep shit about painting their feelings and all that crap that they seem to believe in here. Billy thinks it’s absolute bullshit. There’s problems that can’t be solved by drawing rainbows and singing songs around the campfire. It’s a disservice to the kids to make them believe that’s how the world works, with paint and songs and good thoughts. 

“ What I want you to paint today, is a happy memory. A moment you can remember being completely content. “ 

Billy can’t help but let his mind wander, trying to come up with a happy memory of his own. His thought immediately go back to California, that’s where he used to be genuinely happy. Even thought it was a long time ago he can still picture it in his head like it was yesterday. The only joy he feels in Hawkins is when he’s balls deep in his latest conquest, but California ? California at least held moments of a happy past. 

He pictures the beach, the waves that seemed so big to him then. Like huge fluffy curls reaching up all the way into the sky. He feels the ocean breeze on his skin, smells the salt, hears the seagulls. His mom is there, twirling in the sand like some Hippy ballerina. She’s smiling and she’s so beautiful. Her laughter sounds through the air like a long forgotten lullaby. And Billy, he was so young then, so innocent and — happy. The world had not been cruel on him then, or at least he had someone to shelter him from most of it. Back then, she still loved him. Someone still loved him. 

Maybe the beach was just a beach and the ocean just the ocean but with someone there who loved him, it all felt magical. 

She doesn’t love him anymore and all the magic is gone and he’s cold and bitter and perpetually pissed off.

Happy memories are one hell of a drug and nostalgia is a goddamn liar. When he thinks about that memory now, focuses really really strongly and doesn’t allow the filter of nostalgia to cloud his judgement, he can paint another picture of that day. They’d went to the beach because Neil had been drinking more than usual. His mom had a black eye. The smile didn’t even each her eyes.

The memory was happy to him now because he decided to remember it that way. Though reality was quite another story.

He turns to look at (Y/N), only to find her drawing a picture herself. They weren’t supposed to actually take part in this class, just supervise and setup and clean afterwards. She’d told him that beforehand.

“ What are you drawing there ? “ he asks, peaking onto the piece of paper before her. There’s a big blob of blue and what he can only guess is a swingset.

“ A happy memory “ 

“ Oh yeah, wanna elaborate ? “ 

“ Again, it’s none of your business but sure. It’s uh — it’s Lake Michigan. My mom used to take me there every year for my birthday until I was 12. I loved it there, I love the beach and I’ve always dreamed of the ocean. We couldn’t really afford a trip to the coast so this was the next best thing. There was a swingset there and I could just spend hours swinging and looking at the lake. It was magical. “ 

He thinks it’s kind of ironic that both their happy memories come back to the beach, albeit two vastly different beaches in two very different memories.

“ You’ve never been to the coast ? The ocean ? “ 

“ Nope. But It’s what I wanna do for my 18th birthday. I wanna swim in the pacific. I wanna feel the sun on my skin and taste the salt in the air. “ 

“ Once I’m done with school I’m outta here and back on my way to California. There’s room in my Camaro if you want to carpool. “ 

“ Spending several days in a car with you ? Why would I do that ? You’re aggravating ! “ 

She smiles though. When she says it she smiles. He’s heard those words from Neil before. Aggravating. They stung then, they don’t sting now. There’s no malice in them this time. She says them almost like a compliment. What the fuck is going on here ? 

“ I’ve been told. You’re not a very good artist. “ 

“ And you’re not a very good flirt and yet all girls seem to swoon at the mere thought of you. “ 

“ Do they now ? “ he asks, signature Billy Hargrove smirk playing on his lips. “ How would you know that ? “ 

“ I have friends at Hawkins High. “ 

“ And you talked to them about me, now isn’t that adorable. “ 

“ Don’t flatter yourself, man. “ 

“ You think about me, that’s so cute. Honestly I can’t blame you. “ 

“ Oh my god your ego is the size of a small country. Unbelievable. “ 

“ Don’t get shy now (Y/N). “ 

“ Could you please stop. “ she says but she’s laughing. Her laugh is warm and comfortable and honest. It’s a laugh that reminds him of days when he wasn’t bitter or sad or angry. 

 “ Never, I’m never letting that go. “ 

“ That’s what I’m afraid of. “ 

And when she goes back to drawing on her memory, Billy thinks that maybe there are little happy moments here in Indiana. They don’t make great memories to think back to and they’ll probably dull and vanish someday in the future. They’re not monumental or important. But they are there. In the teasing and the laughter. Even if it’s just a temporary feeling. It’s there. It’s real. It’s his. 

- XXX -

The following week is exhausting for Billy. He’s constantly on the go, driving to school then work then HHTCY. He can’t wait for the pool season to be over so he can scrap that off of his schedule and find a job that doesn’t require him to just sit around in the sun all day. It used to be fun at first but at this point it’s just a drag.

It’s friday evening as Billy sits on the cushioned chair in what is technically not (Y/N)’s office watching her do the last of the paperwork for that day. They both have the next saturday off and even though Billy is still expected to see Dr. K. he’s so glad to not have to work or go to school for at least one day. 

“ You got any plans tonight? “ he asks (Y/N), who only glances up at him for a moment then focuses back on the paperwork.

“ Nah, why ? “ 

“ Just thinking. There’s a party at a classmates house. Her parents are loaded, huge mansion. Free drinks. You should come. “ 

“ Are you asking me to come to a party with you ? “ 

“ That’s exactly what I just did. “ 

Before she can answer a knock sounds at the door and Alex, one of the girls who stays at HHTCY permanently steps into the room.

“ Hi (Y/N) I just uh — oh hi Billy “ she says as she spots him sitting in the corner and blushes.

“ Hi ? “ he’s never spoken a single word to this girl. She’s about 13 or 14, around Max’s age. There’s a mop of bleach blonde hair on her head and she’s wearing entirely too many bangles on her wrists. 

“ You wanted something ? “ (Y/N) chimes up and Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. What is this all about ? Girls really are a different species all together.

“ Oh yeah. I’m staying at my mom’s in Hawkins for the night. Lydia has sign off on it already it’s all fine, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving right now. I’ll be back by noon tomorrow. “ 

“ Okay cool. I hope you have a good day at your mom’s “ 

“ Yeah me too. Thanks. Bye. Oh and uh — bye Billy. “ 

“ Bye ? “ 

When she leaves and closes the door, (Y/N) descends into a fit of giggles. 

“ What’s so funny ? “ 

“ She has the biggest crush on you and you don’t even notice”.

“ She’s a kid ! “ Billy points out.

“ Yeah well I was a kid when I had a crush on Mark Hamill “ 

“ Mark Hamill ? “ Billy asks incredulously “ Star Wars ? “.

“ Yeah ? What about it ? “ 

“ Oh my god, you’re a nerd. You have a crush on Mark Hamill and you named your cat after him. You’re a nerd, (Y/N). “ 

“ Uh, no I just like good movies and Mark Hamill looked very dreamy. Get off my case. “ 

“ Never “ he laughs and it’s then that he realizes that he’s laughed more in the time he’s started working here than he has in the last few years. It feels — freeing. It feels good.

“ So who was your crush then, huh ? “ 

“ Pff, I’m never gonna tell you that. “ Billy scoffs “ so how about that party ? “ 

[jasmine2042003]

Nico di Angelo x reader (soulmate AU)

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My first Tumblr post of Nico di Angelo, a soulmate AU, specifically pain. I read an avengers x reader soulmate AU similar, all scars and pain (including emotional) is felt by the soulmate. Depending on how this does, I might make this into a series, as for now, it will be a two or three part one shot basically. Enjoy the chapter xxx

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Nico pov

Finding my soulmate seemed to be an impossible task. On top of the fact that I was generally unlikable, I pushed away anybody who could possibly care for me and finally, the nail in the coffin (non-intended death puns), whilst my body was sixteen, my brain was seventy! Anyone who could have possibly been my soulmate probably died during World War Two, like I should have. I looked around at my friends, all of them in a couple, already having found their other halves. Percy had Annabeth, Jason had Piper, Frank had my sister, which I still wasn’t massively happy about. Everyone had someone, but me. 

At least, unlike Percy, I would be able to tell who my soulmate is. I mean come on, Percy knew Annabeth for years before he got it through his seaweed brain who she was. Before anyone asks anything, yes I had a crush on Percy, that is definitely over now, you didn’t get in the way of soulmates, that was like giving the three fates the middle finger. Anyway, I sat there in my natural gloom, making little skeletal things, partially because it was kind of comforting, but mostly because it freaked Leo out and that little elf had pissed me off for the last time. 

“Dude, come on!” Leo shouted, alerting some of the nearby campers, “You can’t still be angry at me,” I chuckled menacingly and raised an eyebrow at him. “You wanna bet?” I asked with an evil smirk, a trademark of my dad’s that I had perfected. I touched the point of my inky sword to the patch of dead grass near Leo’s feet, a skeletal hand reaching out to grab his ankle, causing him to screech like a five year old girl and run away. I carried on my evil laugh, my sister shaking her head at me, “Neeks, you need to stop that, he doesn’t mean it, he wanted to make you smile, something other than that creepy smirk that you’re doing right now.” Hazel had a point, I guess. That doesn’t mean I was going to listen. 

I shrugged my shoulders lightly, my smirk falling off my face when I saw, yet another pair of campers, discovering their soulmate. Hazel followed my gaze and looked at me, “Hey Neeks, can I talk to you?” She asked, I nodded and followed my little sister to some shade under Thalia’s Tree. I sighed and looked into Hazel’s golden eyes confused, “You’re not about to tell me that you and Beast Boy are getting married right?” I joked, letting a small smile slip through my blank facade. She giggled and shook her head, her face lit up when she laughed, I loved when I could make my sister smile, it made me feel like I wasn’t a completely useless big bro. 

Her face slipped into a more serious note, “I know you think you aren’t going to find them Nico,” Oh here we go, ‘Nico you’ll find her, it just takes some time,’ I didn’t need to hear this again. “If I was able to find Frank in a world that I shouldn’t have even been alive in, I’m sure the great Nico di Angelo can find someone from the twenties who was in the same boat as you,” She continued, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. I sighed and nodded along, the truth is, I was fine without a soulmate. I mean, I haven’t even felt anything from my soulmate, not since I was eight years old. I got a scrape on my knee from absolutely nothing, Bianca then decided to tell me about soulmates.

Flashback~

I felt the tears cascading down my face, my cheeks red and my hands clutching my bleeding knee. Mom and dad were talking quietly in the corner, their hands moving as they spoke, a trait my sister and I had picked up. Bianca ran over to me once she realised that I was hurt and upset, she lifted my pants leg to the knee and had a look. She gave me the classic mother look, “Aww *povero bambino,” She muttered under her breath, “Looks like your little partner in crime is playing rough,” She tried explaining, only for me to look on confused. She sighed, picked me up, brushed me off and sat me on the sofa next to her, kids running around the hotel, laughing and cheering. 

“Nico, when you were born, there were special people who chose the perfect person for you,” She started, now I was even more confused, like, someone who can beat me at mythomagic? Someone I can play games with? Bianca continued, “This perfect person is the person you will eventually fall in love with,” I must have made a face because Bianca chuckled, “Come on squirt, you’ll get used to it,” I highly doubt that. “Anyways, when your soulmate gets hurt, their pain and their injury, will reflect on you,” She said, patting my knee. So whatever my soulmate feels, I feel it too. I have so many questions, does emotional pain count? Bianca had to leave for school, so I had to save my questions for later.

Bianca gave me a kiss on the forehead and left me with mom and dad. I sat around for a while before getting a great idea. “Hey mom, can I borrow a marker?” I asked her sweetly, she smiled and gave me a bright red, washable marker. I went into the corner and sat down, crossed my legs and took the cap off of the pen, holding it between my teeth. I rolled up my sleeve and thought about what I would write. Might as well go simple, “Hi, my name’s Nico!” I waited and waited for a response. It was days before they finally responded, “Hello, I’m (y/n),” I smiled, (y/n), what a beautiful name.

Flashback over~

I smiled at Hazel and gave her a quick peck on the forehead, “Look at my little sister giving me life advice,” I cooed. She giggled a bit and pushed me away. “Shut up, I can be adult if I want to be, I’m only four years younger than you technically!” I smiled, a small smile, but she was one of the only people to have achieved that feat in six years. I chuckled and pulled her close to my chest again, the only human contact I’ve had in a while, most people would get freaked out by me hugging someone, but I’d already lost one sister, I refuse to lose a second. Hazel hugged me back, her head hardly came up to my chin, she pulled back and pushed me towards big house, “You need to go, Chiron said he was looking for you,” I nodded and headed for the big house.

Before I had made it past the cabins, I felt pinching on my arms, like needles, it didn’t really hurt but I was kind of confused. I’m not sure what I did, I hadn’t hurt myself and I hadn’t felt anything from my soulmate in decades. I lifted my hoodie sleeves, there were little specks of blood, I stopped in my tracks. Okay, I know I don’t have scurvy, so the only thing left is my soulmate, (y/n). It might seem weird that I remembered her name, we barely spoke, I knew her name and that she was my age, or at least she was when I was eight. I stared at the spots of red on my arms for while, until one was grabbed by a large hand. I looked up startled, meeting Chiron’s worried face. “Nico my boy, you’ll want to see this,” He muttered before leading me away from the big house and towards the infirmary, passing my friends as we rushed over. 

Stepping into the infirmary, the entire place was in chaos. Apollo campers were running around, grabbing things, bandages, medication, bottles and needles. What the Hades was going on? That’s when I heard it. Screaming. Crying. A girl. For some reason it hurt me, all of a sudden, my chest tightened and my breathe became heavier and more laboured. Why was I suddenly feeling this way? I was in Camp, there is nothing to be frightened of. I tried to calm myself down, the feeling going away and being replaced with pure confusion. “Chiron what’s going on?” I looked over at the centaur, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, tension and stress radiating off the millennia old man. “We found someone a few years ago that we think might have something to do with you,” He said quietly. 

Why would this person have something to do with me? I followed Chiron into a back room of the infirmary. I saw Apollo cabin’s best healers working around a single person on a cot in the centre of the room. There was the girl, I’m assuming she was the one that was screaming, she was gorgeous. (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, the most innocent and adorable confused expression on her sweet face. What was I saying? I had no idea who this person was. “Nico,” Chiron started, “When we first found her, she had writing on her arm, this is a long shot, there are many people with your name, but we wanted to be sure.” Will Solace from the Apollo cabin, and a genuinely good friend of mine brought an accurately drawn painting that looked like a photograph of the girl’s arm.

There were two lines of words, one in red marker and the other in black. “Hi, my name’s Nico!” and “Hello, I’m (y/n),” Holy shit. It was her. “(y/n),” I whispered quietly. Chiron looked at me inquisitively, “You know her?” He asked, I nodded in response. “She’s my soulmate,” I muttered, even more quietly, causing Chiron’s eyes to widen. As if in a trance I walked over to her side, grabbing a pen on my way to her. I sat in a chair next to her, looking her in the eyes. Her beautiful (e/c) eyes, they sparkled as if containing ground diamonds. Dam it Nico, focus! Her eyes seemed to be stuck to mine as mine were on hers, I took the cap off the pen and held it between my teeth, just as I had all those years ago. I gently grasped her left forearm, watching her face in concern as I wrote a few words, before gesturing for her to look down.

(y/n) pov

I gasped as I awoke. Panic filling my body as I looked around the unfamiliar room. A white cot sat in a room with wooden floors and walls, flowers and medical supplies were sat on the tables around me and sunshine flooded through the open curtains. I looked down at my arms, needles and tubes poking out of my skin. In my panic, a few of them had been pulled out, causing spots of blood to begin forming on the surface of my skin. I suddenly looked up when I heard the door open. A girl carrying fresh flowers walked in, meeting my eyes and gasping at my consciousness. How long had I been asleep for? All I remember is running through the woods before seeing an archway, some writing I couldn’t see, before passing out. 

Before I knew it, half a dozen more people had entered the room, trying desperately to calm me down. I shook my head erratically and moved away from the groping hands. They were all teenagers, ranging from maybe fourteen to nineteen, that made me think. How old was I? That was the moment I had felt intense waves of serenity wash over, it felt strange though, as if they weren’t my own feelings. I had no time to rationalise that thought as the door opened once more, revealing a man, or at least his upper half was man, his lower half however had a horse’s figure and legs. A centaur, a voice told me reassuringly, I knew I could trust this man. Behind him, walked a boy and he was beautiful. Dark, messy hair that was long but not unkempt, onyx eyes that were intense and full of an emotion that I couldn’t read, as if there were many emotions rolled into one.

He looked up at me and locked my eyes with his, surprise etched into the linings of his pale face. I couldn’t bear to pull my eyes away from his own as he walked over to me slowly, picking up something I couldn’t see. He sat in a chair next to my bed, his handsome features even more defined up close, I noticed the object he had grabbed was a pen. He took the cap off and held it in his teeth, a very hot move if you ask me. He looked at me in concern as he took my left forearm, writing a few words down, all the while looking me in the eyes to make sure I was alright. After he had finished, he leaned back and gestured for me to look at my arm, biting his lower lip gently. I looked down and gasped, ‘Hello (y/n), its me, Nico’. I looked up at him, a laugh of relief escaping the smile I had on my face. Looking at his arm as he pulled up his sleeve, the writing reflected perfectly of his porcelain skin. 

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Let me know if this is something I should continue. Leave a comment or a like if you want and feel free to find me on Wattpad (Crazy-Otaku-demigod). Thanks for reading this you guys xxx

Final Word Count:  2393

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy, pt 1 & 2

I stopped and stared up at the building in front of me. Imposing, huge, and a beacon for anyone concerned with clean energy. I had won the internship at Stark Industries research and development division by working my ass off all year, coming up with innovative and exciting ways to utilize the arc reactor technology. I’d been interviewed by Mr. Stark himself when it came time to award the position. I’d never been so excited to work in an unpaid position in my life. It was made all the better by being in New York City. And even more awesome because accommodation was provided in the tower. Even if the internship didn’t lead to permanent employment at Stark Industries after my sojourn there, it would be a resume jackpot. 

I stopped at the main security desk and picked up my passcard. Elizabeth Carmichael. It sounded much more glamourous than Ella did, but I’d never been called Elizabeth in my entire life. Always Ella, except from my Nan, who called me Bethy. I clipped the tag on my blouse and headed to the elevator. The email from the HR department had been clear: pick up your passcard, and report to the main office of R&D on the 55th floor. I pressed the button and waited for the elevator to close. A hand reached in to stop the door and Mr. Stark stepped in. He smiled, like he would to anyone he shared the elevator with, and then his eyes narrowed as he read my nametag.

“Ms. Carmichael! You’ve made it to the city then? Where are your bags? Are you not staying on site?” He spoke so fast I could barely follow him.

“My flight arrived late last night. I thought I would stay at a hotel overnight and then get organized to move into my room, sir.” I felt breathless just trying to keep up with his speech, and rushed through my own explanation.

“We’ll send someone to collect your things. We’re having a little social in the lounge tonight; you don’t want to miss it. Good networking opportunities. There are three of you that earned internships. Pepper was particularly excited about you. Not a lot of women in STEM, you know. So we’re having a meet and greet for the three of you. Mostly Stark staff, but there'll be some others in attendance. Angela will get you organized.” There was even information stored in the nuances of how he spoke. It was going to be overwhelming until I got used to it. If I got the chance to get used to it. This elevator interaction might be the last time I saw Mr. Stark for the rest of the summer. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the bright, clean research and development administrative office. I waited at the desk while the woman sitting there was on a call. Her nameplate said Angela, so I suspected she was who Mr. Stark said would organize me.

“Ella, right?” She swivelled her chair to face me. I nodded. “I’ve already contacted the concierge at your hotel to have your belongings sent over. I’ll show you to your rooms at the end of your orientation and tour. Then you can get settled.”

“I won’t be working?” I was surprised.

“Not today. Today is all about the Stark Industries machine and how you fit into it. So orientation to the labs, meet some of the people you’ll be working under, settling into your suite and figuring out your way around. There’s a meet and greet tonight.” She typed something into her computer and then rose. Without waiting for me, she headed off down a hallway. “This is the administrative floor for Research and Development. R&D takes twenty floors here, from 55 to 75. Starting at the 76th floor, the Avengers Tower begins, and you’ll only end up there if Mr. Stark wants to meet with you. Well, and for the mixer tonight. The 56th and 57th floors are all housing. Our guest scientists are housed on 56 and your suite is on 57. The project you’ve been assigned to is an offshoot of the household arc reactor project, and will allow you to work on one of your proposals. That division is on 60 through 65. Your direct supervisor is Markus Reid.” I scrambled to scribble notes and keep up with her and she led me through a maze of hallways and offices. We finally came to a halt and I was so busy scratching notes into my notebook that I bumped into her.

“Oh, god. Sorry,” I apologized. She smiled and shook her head.

“Relax, Ella. You were the top candidate. Your proposals rocked Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts' socks off. You belong here,” she reassured me. “And I’m going to email all this info to you, so you can put away your notebook.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling a bit small right now,” I admitted.

“The first few days are very overwhelming for every Stark Industries employee. It’s why we schedule nothing work-related on the first day.” She knocked on a door and hesitated just a second before opening it. “I have Elizabeth Carmichael here to sign some paperwork.” She led me into the office, and sat in a chair near the door after pointing to a chair at the desk. Another woman smiled and dropped a sheaf of paper in front of me.

“The bottom half of that is the paperwork for you that explains everything in the top half. But this is a basic non-disclosure agreement. The second one is the follow up to the initial waiver you signed when you applied for the internship, giving proprietary rights to Stark Industries, while maintaining your intellectual property, authorship and development rights. That basically means if what you’re working on goes into production, it will be a Stark Industries product, but you will be credited as the inventor. There’s some tax paperwork and a release for your university.” The woman handed me a pen. I looked up at her while I tried to process everything she’d explained.

“Tax paperwork?”

“For your pay.”

“Oh, I’m here for the internship. I’m not paid.” I thought that would be clear to an HR person.

“No, Mr. Stark pays his interns. It makes the transition when you are hired easier,” she explained.

“What?”

“Did you not read your acceptance package?” She gave me a look that suggested she thought I might be stupid.

“I did. It suggested that if Stark Industries was happy with my performance, I could be offered an extension at the end of the internship, provided my degree was complete.” At least, that’s what I’d understood from reading it.

“And you’ve already provided transcripts showing you’ve finished both your bachelor’s and master’s degrees. There were only three internships offered, Ms. Carmichael. We complete all your paperwork now with the assumption that you will be staying on at Stark Industries. If you’ve passed our rigorous application process, we feel you are a keeper. If you choose not to stay, it will be because you chose not to stay,” She explained. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew the internship was prestigious, but I didn’t realize exactly how incredible it was.

“Oh. Well. In that case,” I said and scratched my signature across the papers in front of me. She offered her hand. I stood and shook it.

“Welcome to Stark Industries, Ms. Carmichael.”

XXX

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Angela assured me that her email would include maps, and secret notes and tidbits that would help me remember everything, but I was so floored from the words of the HR person that I really couldn’t focus. Angela led me to the commissary for lunch and ordered for both of us. I didn’t even realize until she handed me a tray with food on it.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. I gave my head a little shake to snap back to reality and smiled in apology.

“Sorry. I’m feeling even more overwhelmed than I was when I got out of the cab this morning,” I laughed. She took a seat at a table and nodded for me to sit across from her.

“You should give yourself some credit. You earned your place here. Pepper is really excited about having you. I suspect you’ll be the poster child for gender equality at Stark Industries for some time to come. As soon as you won that internship, your place here was secured. Probably for life,” she grinned. I shook my head.

“What if I’m a dud?”

“You aren’t though. Mr. Stark himself thoroughly vetted your application, and Pepper went through your references with a fine tooth comb. She even tracked down extra references. You deserve this more than anyone who’s ever applied before, Ella.”

“I feel like I might be sick,” I groaned. It was her turn to shake her head.

“It’s first day jitters. Once you’ve settled into a routine and have your nose into all that sciencey stuff you do, it’ll all blow over,” She laughed. I didn’t want to pick a fight so I just focussed on my lunch.

XXX

My suite was ridiculous. I’d understood we’d be provided with a room. In my mind, I had thought dormitory style, like at university. I was quickly learning Tony Stark did nothing by halves. I had a suite. First of all, the whole thing was fully furnished. The master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen in it, and an ensuite bathroom with a shower bigger than my last dorm room. There was a second bedroom, I’m not sure why. Plus an office, an open floor plan living room and kitchen and a main bathroom. There was a storage closet that I’m pretty sure could have kept a small family comfortable. And a deck with a view of the city. I opened the fridge and discovered it had been fully stocked already. I grabbed a bottle of water and stood at the counter, the overwhelming feeling of just too much washing across me again. There was a bound book on the counter, and when I flipped through it, I realized it was a Stark Tower lifestyle guide, with information about the pool, the gym, the on-site movie theatre, the commissary, and on and on. There was a tablet on the wall that allowed you to order in take-away or groceries. Housekeeping was once a week. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, fully expecting to awaken back in the dorm room at the university. But I didn’t.

I unpacked my bags and checked my email for the details on the get together. Casual evening wear. What was that, even? I grabbed my phone and texted Angela. Whether she liked it or not, she was my new bestie. 

“What does casual evening wear mean?”

“Nothing too fancy. Knee length dress is more appropriate than floor length.”

“I’ve been in university for the last nine years. I have nothing even remotely appropriate.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

XXX

“I’m sorry, Angela, I just didn’t know who else to ask.” I felt like all I was doing was apologizing to her. She laughed.

“You’re my assignment for the next few weeks. And you are so much nicer than the last new hire I was paired with. I can see actually wanting to spend time with you,” she laughed.

“Really? You’re my personal person?” I arched an eyebrow. She laughed again.

“Something like that. Human Resources likes to pair someone from admin to new hires as an orientation guide. It’s a pretty awesome job, to be honest. I get to meet most of the new people on their way in the door. Make lots of new friends. Meet lots of cute science nerd guys.” She winked. I laughed.

“And yet you don’t mind being assigned me. I must be very special indeed,” I teased.

“You’re little lost puppy eyes sucked me right in,” she giggled. “Come on, let’s get you a dress.” It felt like she dragged me all over town, but the truth was, we didn’t go far, and we only visited a couple of stores. I tried on everything she brought to me, and let her tell me what looked best. I was most comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt and a lab coat, so I trusted her judgement. We were a whirlwind of activity after picking the dress. She steered me over to a shoe store, and then a make-up store. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as a make-up store. I only kept mascara in my bathroom because my eyelashes were so light you couldn’t see them without a bit of mascara on them. 

When we finally got back to the building, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela shooed me into the shower and ordered us some dinner instead. She helped me with my hair and then sat me down to eat.

“Do you wear contacts ever?” She asked. I pushed my glasses up my nose and shook my head.

“No, they don’t make contacts for eyes like mine,” I admitted.

“Okay. I can work with that,” she looked at me thoughtfully and chewed on her pizza. Before I knew it, she was rearranging my hair, and applying make-up and amazingly, although I’d honestly never thought I’d enjoy the fuss that went along with dressing up, I did enjoy myself. It helped that Angela kept a running commentary of exclamations about how pretty I was, and how nice my eyes were. I never had thought there was anything particularly special about my brown hair and brown eyes. I changed my mind when Angela let me look in the mirror. My hair was loose and wavy, and cascaded over my shoulders. The red dress she’d found for me highlighted that my hair was more than one shade of brown, and brought out the natural glow in my cheeks. My eyes, despite being framed behind my glasses, looked big and sparkly.

“Wow.”

“You’ll have half the R&D guys begging for your number by the end of the night!” Angela laughed. I blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. She laughed again.

“Come on. I’ll be your wingman.” She linked arms with me and led me out the door and to the elevator. XXX

The crushing feeling of inadequacy hit me again as the elevator opened up to let us out into the cocktail party. I hesitated at the gap between the elevator and the large, noisy room. Angela gave me a gentle nudge, but I froze, taking in the panorama in front of me. Almost every scientist I’d ever quoted in any of my research was standing in that room, mingling with one another. When Tony Stark isn’t the biggest name in a room, it can make you pause. I’m pretty sure I recognized the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in physics standing by the bar. And Dr. Banner was lingering near the door to the patio and pool deck, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. At least he was near an exit where he could cool off and relax if he needed to. His research was what drove me into the sciences. In the end, I decided gamma radiation wasn’t really the area I was passionate about, and pursued research that put me in Stark’s path. But he was still kinda my hero. 

“If you don’t step off this elevator right now, I’m going to push you off, and then you’ll draw a lot more attention to yourself than if you act like a normal person.” Angela had my number already. I stepped into the party tentatively. Angela steered me straight to the bar. “Let’s get a drink into you, loosen you up a little. These people have all been where you are, Ella. What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, rocks.” My eyes were glued to the room, and I just kept recognizing more and more people. Surely they all didn’t work for Stark Industries. I would have noticed that at some point during my application process. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts saw me as Angela handed me my drink. Ms. Potts smiled in welcome and headed straight to me. I didn’t have time to panic.

“Ms. Carmichael! I’m so pleased to see you. You look a bit like a canary in a room of cats. Don’t. They’re all harmless. And some of them are very excited to discuss your proposals with you,” she took my hand and squeezed it familiarly. It was not at all like my boss was shaking my hand, but more like a friend greeting me.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Potts.” I managed, and took a sip from my glass. 

“Please, Pepper is fine. We’ll reserve the formality for press releases,” she smiled. “Are you settling into your rooms?”

“I am. They’re much more than I was expecting. Everything about this internship is more than I was expecting,” I blurted. I was nervous enough that I took a perhaps-larger-than-it-should-have-been swallow from my glass and nearly choked.

“We’re so pleased you accepted, Ms. Carmichael,” Pepper gushed. “Really. I’m sure Angela has filled you in about the women in STEM initiative Stark Industries is backing.”

“If I’m going to call you Pepper, you’re going to have to call me Ella. Angela mentioned a little about it, but I didn’t realize there was an entire initiative.” The combination of vodka and talking shop with Pepper was starting to ease my nerves, and I could feel the tension starting to melt from my shoulders.

“We’re starting summer and weekend science and technology camps for girls. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some time to work with me on promoting them. I think Angela has scheduled a meeting for us sometime in the next few days,” she explained. 

“That would be really cool.” I took another sip. There wasn’t much left in my glass. I was going to need to slow down. Mr. Stark was watching the crowd, but I could tell that his head was in our conversation.

“I hope you’ll come out of your shell a little, Ms. Carmichael. You were vibrant during the interview process. I hope that wasn’t a one-off. It’ll be hard to sell STEM as cool with a mousy science nerd girl as the PR star.” He was suddenly back in the conversation full force. I flushed.

“Tony! It’s first-day nerves. We can’t all be the shiniest constellation in the sky all the time,” Pepper scolded him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Ella. Parties bring out the worst of his quirks.” The way she said it, I could almost see the air-quotes hanging in the air around the word quirks. I smiled.

“I promise you, Mr. Stark. I can be just as shiny as you need me to be when surrounded by young women. It’s when I’m in the presence of the likes of Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy that I tend to get star-struck. And I think, did I see Reed Richards?” I found my voice. Mr. Stark smiled.

“Since we’re all making friends, you may as well call me Tony,” he allowed. “I make sure my best and brightest get a chance to meet the best and brightest.”

“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, it’s just a little overwhelming.” I felt it was only fair to be honest with them, since they were my employers. Pepper squeezed my hand again.

“I have no doubt, after speaking to your references, that you will be everything that we are looking for, Ella,” she reassured me. I took another sip from my glass, and Tony suddenly noticed it in my hand.

“Please tell me that’s not water. We have a strict no water at parties rule here at Stark Industries.” Mr. Stark took my glass away and finished what was left. He coughed and handed it back. “Oh, I think you’re going to fit in here quite well, Mouse.” Angela took the glass from me and got a fresh one from the bar. I reminded myself to go slow. There was no point in getting drunk in front of such an auspicious crowd on my first day.

Angela led me around to a number of people I would be working with, including my direct supervisor, Markus Reid. He shook my hand with enthusiasm and launched into a long-winded explanation of my project and how it would fit in with his project. I found myself lingering with him for longer than was probably necessary. He was passionate about his work with the arc reactor technology and he reminded me of my thesis supervisor, ready to help and happy to share whatever advances he had discovered. It was the lynchpin in making me settle for the evening. If my supervisor was excited to have me, no one else really mattered. Angela’s face lit up and she excused me from the conversation. 

“Shut up. You are not going to believe this. I have someone to introduce to you!” She exclaimed. I followed her as she led me across the lounge and toward the windows overlooking the outside deck. I couldn’t figure out who she wanted me to meet, but the last person who’d been near where we were headed was Dr. Banner, and I was sure she’d seen him earlier. She slowed to a more dignified walk and led me to Dr. Banner. He was chatting with a petite brunette who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dr. Banner looked up and acknowledged Angela as he finished what he was saying to the other woman.

“Angela, you always walk with such purpose.” His tone was warm, and he gripped her hand with both of his. It was obvious from Angela’s relaxed posture that they’d worked with each other a few times.

“Comes with the job. This is Elizabeth Carmichael, one of the new interns here at Stark,” she introduced me. “Ella, this is Bruce Banner.” She paused and turned toward the woman. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is Dr. Jane Foster?”  Dr. Banner shook my hand and nodded toward Dr. Foster.

“So pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner. It was your work that led me into the sciences.” I tried not to gush. I don’t think I was successful.

“Really? My understanding was that physics and engineering were your specialties,” he asked. My heart nearly stopped. He knew my areas of study. My science geek girl idol knew my specialties.

“I got really into green energy during my undergrad studies, and my focus switched,” I admitted.

“And my accident had nothing to do with that?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed and realized that might not have been the best response. I bit back my smile and shook my head.

“Actually, no. Your accident happened when I was in first year, and I stuck with my studies as a minor. It was when it was time to begin my master’s that I felt I could do more good, with my level of knowledge, if I pursued green energy,” I explained. He looked thoughtful.

“And once again, Bruce, I point out that your accident has significantly less effect on the opinions of others than you think,” Dr. Foster jumped in, and offered her hand. I shook it. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Tony has been beside himself with excitement about your thesis. I think the other two interns might be getting the short end of the stick.”

“Except that there is no short end of the stick at Stark,” Banner argued. Dr. Foster laughed and nodded.

“It’s so true. I wish these internships had existed when I was struggling for funding.” she looked past my shoulder, distracted. I turned and followed her gaze until it lit on the most beautiful man I think I’d ever seen. He was tall, and blond, and broad, with a big smile and an equally large laugh. And from the way Dr. Foster was looking at him, I realized he must be Thor. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here.” The smile fell from her face.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I had no idea. Why would he be here? He’s not one of you sciencey types,” Angela apologized. Dr. Foster turned to me and shook my hand again.

“It was truly lovely to meet you, Ella. I look forward to watching your project. If you ever need anything, Angela can get you in touch with me. Even if it’s just a woman-to-woman bitchfest. We STEM ladies need to stick together.” She excused herself and made her way quickly to the elevator. Angela and I watched her as the elevator doors closed. I was disappointed, but turned back to Dr. Banner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Thor stepping up to us.

“Banner, my friend! It has been too long since we’ve met. You look well!” Everything about Thor was big. He pulled Dr. Banner into one of those one-armed-man-hugs, his massive arms straining against the confines of his t-shirt. He towered over both of us. He released Dr. Banner and turned to Angela and I. If I looked anything like Angela did, I was gawking like a slack-jawed idiot. I nudged her gently and she closed her mouth.

“Ladies, it is well to make your acquaintance. I am Thor, of Asgard,” he introduced, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angela.

“Ella Carmichael.” I couldn’t form any other words. There was just so much of him, and it was so close. I was completely star-struck in a way I’d never been about a fellow scientist. He took Angela’s hand.

“Angela Benett,” she breathed. I was so glad I wasn’t the only one on the verge of swooning. The man was truly a specimen. Banner cleared his throat, and I snapped my attention back over to the man who had arguably been the first crush of my science geeky heart.

“What brings you here, Thor?” he asked. Thor turned back to him and smiled his ridiculous, large, beautiful smile.

“I had need to speak to Tony. I’d not realized it was a celebration, or I would have come tomorrow. Twas not urgent,” he explained. “And I am afraid I have chased Jane from her colleagues.” There was regret in his tone. Things were obviously over with them, not merely bumpy or awkward. 

“He said twas,” I whispered to Angela. She stifled a giggle. I’m not sure why it was so amusing, other than that I had finished my second vodka. I’m not sure what her excuse was; I knew she hadn’t been drinking. “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk more about what you’re studying now, Dr. Banner.” I had to excuse myself before I made an idiot of myself in front of Dr. Banner and Thor. Angela followed me to the deck. I stretched out on a deck chair and looked up at the sky. Stark Tower was so high that it seemed to be above the smog of the city. There was still loads of light pollution, but I was reassured that the stars were the same in New York City as they were at home in Washington. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Thanks for being my sidekick, Angela,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the afternoon, let alone this evening, without your assistance.”

“Well, like I said, it’s my job. But paycheque aside, you’re alright, Ella,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t know if I can afford Stark wages to keep you as a friend.” Across the deck something caught my eye, and I slipped off my shoes to walk over to it. Angela must have seen it too because she followed curiously. It was the biggest damn hammer I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting on a low table beside the pool. It was fancy, tooled with knotwork. I ran my hand over it. I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It had the warm feel of vibranium, but it almost seemed to hum under my hand. I slid my hand up the leather wrapped handle. The grip was comfortable. I squeezed the handle, and felt the give of the leather wrap against my hand.

“I don’t know if you should be playing with that, Ella,” Angela warned.

“What do you suppose it is? It feels like it’s got more of a purpose than just a giant paperweight, or decoration,” I thought out loud, flexing my fingers along the handle. It felt like it needed to be held. I might not be describing that properly, but it was almost like it spoke to me. Which clearly suggested I’d had too much to drink.

“I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t get up into this part of the tower much. Is it heavy? Maybe it’s a prop or a prototype or some sort,” Angela shrugged. I adjusted my grip on the handle and prepared myself to lift it, assuming it would be ridiculously heavy. I was surprised when after a slight tug of resistance, I was able to heft the thing in the air. The air around us crackled with static, and suddenly a shock ran through my body, from the hand that was holding the hammer through to my feet.  Everything around me slowed down, almost like slow motion in the movies. I looked up at Angela and saw Thor and Dr. Banner running towards us over her shoulder. Thor was reaching out, his mouth forming some kind of words, but I couldn’t hear them. I felt the hammer tug out of my hand and it flew away from me. The electricity left my body and I collapsed on the pool deck.

“What the actual fuck?” I muttered before blackness overtook my thoughts.

[honeysuckle-swarm]

Half An Egg Challenge

In a bid to stop myself going onto the auctionhouse and buying pretty things at random, I have picked up a challenge I spotted on the forums.

Starting with a pair of XXX triplegened dragons from opposite halves of the color wheel, I am going to see how long it takes to get another XXX. The chances of this are... really quite low? (I’m not a maths person)

Player 1 is

The lovely Ribena, a Blackberry XXX Iridescent/Shimmer/Smoke. Her mate on the opposite side of the colour wheel is

Pyrite, an XXX Metals Metallic/Facet/Gembond.

I was a fool and put a different pair on my free nest to get some exalt fodder going, so I won’t be able to get them started for a couple of days, and I’m hoping I might find a pair to span the other side of the colour wheel to race each other before I do.

[zukos-tsungi-horn]

Souvenirs We Never Lose Ch. 2

Chapter 2: become our history (1 | 2 | to be continued) (Read on AO3 | FFN)

Summary:  The past is never far. Zuko remembers what Katara said about the spirit water. Now there’s a second scar to heal, and Katara’s feelings are more complicated—but if he wants to erase the past, she’s willing to give it a try. She owes him that much, and more. Zutara.  Rated T to be safe, probably G though.

Notes: Thanks again to Lexosaurus for beta reading!!  And thanks to everyone who left comments/reviews on the first chapter, it means a ton!  I’m super happy with how this chapter turned out, so I hope you enjoy! (Also please please let the read more link work this time tumblr hhhh)

XXX

~Reruns all become our history~

It wasn’t a vacation.  It had never been a vacation, as much as it felt like one when she didn’t have to cook or wash clothes.  She still had plenty to keep her busy.  The days passed in a blur of economic discussions, combat training with old acquaintances—still mostly boys, but she was excited to find three girls had been admitted since she’d last visited—and healing practice with Yugoda.  

Even though concern for Aang and Toph tickled the back of her mind, it was nice to have this time on her own.  Training just for herself and not for the fate of the world was more of a relief than she’d expected.

Of course, Zuko’s request regarding his scars shrouded the otherwise peaceful atmosphere.  He hadn’t asked her again since they’d gotten here—he trusted that she would let him know once she had the spirit water—but she felt like she could see the unspoken question every time their eyes met across the council hall.

That was almost the only time she saw him.  At this rate, she’d have to get the water on her own, and then wait until the return trip to see if she could actually heal him.  Which would work just as well… but felt oddly disappointing.  

What had she expected?  That she would get to spend this not-vacation just hanging out with him, like old times?

She should’ve known it would be like this.  He was the Fire Lord now. She was… well, on a technicality she was an ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe, but her presence was hardly necessary for the trade negotiations.  Zuko made sure she was admitted to the most important meetings anyway.  Having travelled the world—even if it was usually from atop Appa rather than by ship—meant she was at least a little bit useful in helping map trade routes.  

As much as she appreciated and enjoyed being included, today’s particular meetings had been nothing short of monotonous, and the lunch break couldn’t have come soon enough. Katara picked up a plate of food from the table at the back of the large dining hall and scanned the room for Zuko.  He was easy to spot at a round table in the corner.  As usual, the seats surrounding him were empty. Outside of the official meetings, no one seemed to know what to do with him, so they left him alone.  She couldn’t tell if that was because he was so young to be a leader, or just their wariness of the Fire Lord title.

She took a seat beside him, suppressing a laugh as he tried to peel a frost melon with his bare hands.  His fingernails barely made a dent in the fist-sized fruit’s tough white rind.

Finally, taking pity on him, she asked, “You need some help there?”

“What’s wrong with this thing?”  He said, finally giving up and dropping the fruit on the smooth ice table.  The dull thud startled the delegates seated at the nearest table, though they quickly went back to their own conversation.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. Here.” She held out her open palm, and he handed over the frost melon.  “You just have to know the trick.”

Her fingers found the near-invisible crack in its stony rind.  With one quick smack against the table, the melon split in half.

“Huh.”  He blinked at the now-exposed blue flesh of the fruit.  “So the trick’s just to hit it really hard?”

“Not exactly.”  She held out the two halves.  “They grow underwater. The rind hardens and cracks when it dries.”

“So the trick is just to hit it really hard on the cracks.”

“Pretty much.  It’s a good way to let out some frustration if you need to.”

“Believe it or not, that hasn’t been a problem lately.”  He cracked a smile and took back the melon.  

She could verify that statement first hand.  Even though the Water Tribe council mostly ignored Zuko outside of the trade talks, they took him seriously during them.  And he responded in kind, speaking confidently with  his hands folded tightly behind his back while he discussed coal, oil, and fish prices. Only during these breaks did she sometimes catch him cradling his fist over his middle.

“You’re getting the hang of this whole Fire Lord thing, huh?”  

He shrugged.  “I don’t know if I’d say that.  I’ve just been doing what I always do.  Working hard, screwing up a lot, and learning from my mistakes.  And trust me, there’s been a lot of those.  Those first few months…”

He ran his free hand through his hair—or tried to. Apparently he forgot it was in its topknot, and his fingers caught in the tight style. A few strands came loose as he tried to untangle them. 

She chuckled and reached up to push them back in place as best she could.  As cute as she found his hair like that, he wouldn’t want to look disheveled when the meeting reconvened.  

He froze, the unscarred half of his face going red.  Oh.  She drew back her hand and made a show of picking at her food while he finished fixing his hair.  Then she remembered what had prompted him to muss it in the first place.

“Hey, you’ve made it this far and no one’s tried to kill you.  I’d call that a success.”

He grimaced.  

She put down her chopsticks and gaped at him.

“Wait—have people tried to kill you?”

“Shh.”  He scooted closer, gesturing for her to keep her voice down.  “I’m fine.  It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?”  She lowered her voice to a near-whisper, her hands clenching into fists.  “Zuko.  I know you’re used to almost dying, but you shouldn’t have to be! That’s not—” 

 He cupped a hand over her fist.  “Look, I know, okay? That’s why I didn’t tell you.  I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“Being concerned that my friend could’ve been assassinated is not the same as freaking out.”  If he got hurt and she couldn’t heal him because she wasn’t there, if she’d brought him back from the brink of death just to lose him mere months later—

She forced herself to take a deep breath.  He was here.  He was alive.  And he was staring at her, his eyes trying to convey comfort to her when he was the one who could’ve died.

“There have been fewer attempts than Uncle expected,” he said, as if that were actually good news.

“You expected people to try to kill you?”

He shrugged.  “It tends to happen around successions.  Especially messy ones like this.  But most people, even in the Fire Nation, are just glad the war is over.  Really. Everything’s fine.”

He made it sound like assassination attempts were an ordinary part of life, not even worth mentioning.  Maybe that was true for Fire Nation royalty. She couldn’t imagine anyone ever trying to assassinate Ozai, though.

She almost snorted at that. Assassinating Ozai had been the focus of their lives for the past year before the comet.  Shorter than that for Zuko, but he’d still been a major part of the plot too.  Maybe for him, being on this end of assassination attempts was better.

Then she was sad all over again, because no one should consider being targeted by assassins an improvement.

“Okay,” she finally said.  “I trust you.  Just… you can tell me about stuff like that, alright?  I can’t promise I won’t ‘freak out,’ but I’d feel better knowing than not.”

She would really feel better if she could be there to take out any would-be assassins herself.  At least she was here now. Not that she expected any assassins here. The negotiations were going well, and hired killers were taboo in Water Tribe culture.  Besides, if Zuko was worried about that, he’d have guards around rather than sitting by himself.  

Not that he had the best sense of self-preservation on a regular day.

“Fair enough.”  He nodded a little sheepishly.  Like he’d only now realized what a big deal it was to almost get killed.

Again.

“Good.”  She nodded back, deciding to let it go.  There wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

After a moment of awkward silence, he experimentally bit into blue flesh of the frost melon and made a face.  

“Not a fan, huh?”  She smiled and took back the other half of his melon.  

“It’s not bad,” he insisted, though his furrowed brow said otherwise.  “I just didn’t know fruit could be salty.”

He stared down at the melon like it had presented him a particularly difficult math problem.  She couldn’t help but laugh a little; it was just too cute.  

“What?”  He looked up in confusion.  A thin trail of salty juice dripped down his lip to his chin.  

 She felt her face flush and shook her head, biting into her half of the fruit to stop herself from grinning any wider.

“I just missed this, that’s all,” she replied.  That was a safe enough thing to say—definitely better than voicing her sudden impulse to wipe the juice from his lip.

“Really?”  He looked up at her with his head tilted.  

“Of course I did, Zuko.  You’re my friend.  We’ve all missed you.”  

It was true.  Even if it wasn’t what she really wished she could say. 

“Oh.”  His fingernails picked at the frost melon, meticulously separating the blue flesh from the rind. In a low voice, he added,  “Right.  I’ve missed everyone too.”

Was he… lonely?  Katara hadn’t been able to stay in the Fire Nation capital after his lightning wound no longer needed regular healing sessions.  There was so much Aang still had to do around the world to establish peace, and he needed her.  Going with him had been the logical choice.  Still, they tried to visit Zuko from time to time, even if that was less often than she would’ve liked.  But even without her and her friends, Zuko had his Uncle. 

And Mai, she reminded herself while stabbing a piece of fish a little too forcefully with her chopsticks.  She had to be imagining the emotion in Zuko’s voice.

“You have?”  She asked anyway.

“Like you said.  You’re my friend.  Er, all of you are.  My friends.”  He coughed.  “I never had to worry about where I stood with you.”

He pointedly avoided her eyes as  his hands continued to shred the pulpy flesh of his melon.  Something in his statement felt personal, like an inside joke she’d wasn’t privy to.  Only with much less humor.

“Is that something you worry about now?”  She asked softly.  Maybe she wasn’t the only one who only mentioned the positive in her letters.

“Too often,” he sighed.

He didn’t seem to notice the frost melon juice staining his hand as he pressed it against his torso—over his lightning scar.  Blue juice bled onto the silky red fabric, turning it a muddy purple.

“Oh,” he said when it registered, his face turning pink.  “I’ve got to stop doing that…”

“What, the Fire Lord ruins good clothes often?”  She waved her hand in front of him, and the juice bent out of his robes.  

He blinked before smiling in relief.  “Thanks.  Wouldn’t want to embarrass my babysitters.”  

He nodded at the adjacent table, where his advisors and other Fire Nation officials were sitting and looking even more confused about the fruit than Zuko had.  One even tried to split open a melon with a fingertip of fire.  

“They look pretty occupied.”   

His habit of putting his hand over his lighting scar had reminded her of the real reason she was here.  As much as she wanted to ask about what was bothering him, they only had so much time together—and she still needed to make good on her promise.

“So... you think you’ll be able to sneak away from them?”

He looked up in surprise.

“Not right now, of course,” she backpedalled quickly.  “After I talk to Yugoda.  I’ve been training in healing with her in the evenings.  I’ll find a way to ask her soon.  About… you know.”  

She didn’t think anyone else knew about his plan, and though the other Fire Nation officials did look occupied, she didn’t feel right talking about it out loud here.  Everyone would know soon enough, though.  He couldn’t exactly hide having a giant scar removed from his face.  She wondered if he really planned on just showing up to the meetings one morning without it.  Knowing him, he probably would.  

“Oh.  Yeah, I’ll figure out something.”  He nodded, picking at his fruit again.  It was practically a pile of pulp by now.

“You don’t have to, you know. I can get the water and wait until the trip back.  If you’re busy, or—” 

“Katara.”  He  looked straight into her eyes.  “I won’t be busy.”

She ignored the tingle running down her spine and nodded slowly.

“If you’re sure, then.”

She hoped he didn’t notice how her own hands trembled as she finished off her half of the melon.

XXX

Black was the wrong color, he thought as he climbed out his second-story window that night.  He’d known that, of course, but he was despairingly out of options for inconspicuous attire.  Habit was only reason he’d brought his dark clothing at all.  And of the other eleven outfits Uncle had forced him to pack, there was no option that would help him blend into the ice and snow.

Of course, Uncle hadn’t known that he intended to sneak down to Katara’s room in the middle of their diplomatic trip.  He didn’t even want to be sneaking.  He wasn’t sneaking.  He just… found his black stealth suit more warm and comfortable than the billowing Fire Lord robes.  

Besides, who wanted to climb down the side of a slick building in a cape?  It just wasn’t practical.

He shouldn’t have worried though; all of his advisors (babysitters) were long since asleep in the adjoining palace guest rooms.  The early northern nightfall had taken its toll on the firebenders.  Even the non-benders who didn’t have the instinctive need to rise and fall with the sun were still used to sleeping when it was dark outside.

Of course, Zuko had long since learned how to push through into the moon’s domain.

As he snuck—no, he wasn’t… okay, maybe he was sneaking, just a little—he hoped that Katara wouldn’t mind the late visit.  She’d usually stayed up late when they travelled together.  Plus she’d wanted to know if he could manage to get away from everyone.  This was the easiest way to find out.

Don’t play dumb. That’s a stupid excuse and you know it.  His real reason—the question he wanted to ask her—hung heavy in the back of his mind.  

Still, even that didn’t warrant the dark clothes, or sneaking out in the middle of the night.  It felt right, though.  For the first time in months, his breathing seemed to come easier.  His inner fire invigorated him as it fought back the harsh cold. The only thing that would make him feel more alive would be the comfortable weight of his daos across his back, or maybe his old Blue Spirit mask over his face. 

Agni, Katara had been right—he was feeling nostalgic.

For what?  The times when I was on the run?  When everyone wanted to kill me?  When we still had to worry about defeating my father and Azula?

He was Fire Lord now.  The political unrest in the wake of his coronation had settled down, and a whole month had passed without an attempt on his life. Reparations without and rebuilding within the Fire Nation were both going as well as could be expected.  The world was at peace. Agni, he even had a girlfriend.

Who would probably have some sharp words to say if she knew he was sneaking towards Katara’s room right now.  

His face heated as he realized how it would look.  He had nothing to be ashamed of, though; he just needed Katara’s advice.

He pushed thoughts of Mai aside, pulled his dark wrap higher over his face, and crept onward across the courtyard.

The moon shone down brightly, gleaming off the polished ice and leaving precious few shadows to hide in.  He didn’t have far to go, though. Katara’s guest house—the traditional Southern Water Tribe Ambassador’s quarters—was just below the courtyard.  

He slid down the icy cliff and landed silently on the terrace level below.  There wasn’t any reason to avoid the stairs, but if he was going to be sneaking around anyway, he might as well do a thorough job of it.

From there it didn’t take long to reach the small igloo-like structure Katara was staying in.  In fact it didn’t take long enough.  Doubt itched at him, nudging his hand back towards his sunburst scar.  Did he really want to hear the answer to his question?  It shouldn’t affect his decision one way or another.  The scars were interfering with both his royal and personal life.  Everything would be easier with them gone.

Then again, he wasn’t one to do something only because it was easy.

That thought gave him the courage to take a deep breath and knock on Katara’s door.

A second passed.  Then a few more.  Maybe she was asleep; he hadn’t knocked loudly, just in case.  Maybe that was for the best.  He’d never actually sought her out at night before.  Their only late conversations had been when they both ended up in the kitchen, unable to sleep.  Those times had become increasingly frequent over their stay on Ember Island, and even when she’d stayed in the palace to heal him, but that was months ago, and that didn’t mean she would welcome—

The door opened.

Katara blinked blearily a few times before her eyes snapped to his.  She wore a long, thick nightgown, and her hair was down, poofing out around her face in rumpled curls.  He hadn’t seen it like that since they’d traveled together, on the rare occasions she rolled out of bed late and waved off his offer of morning tea.  She was as beautiful now as she’d been then.

And now he knew that she wasn’t dating Aang…

Stop it!  That doesn’t mean she likes you!  

Even if she did, there was no way she would stay with him, and—that was all completely missing the point, because he was trying to work things out with Mai.  She’d gone to prison for him, and forgiven him, and most importantly, she was still there.  He couldn’t handle being Fire Lord with no one his age around.  He needed her.  

And he’d promised not to break up with her.

Agni, he’d made a stupid choice in coming at night.  He imagined the moon laughing at his pathetic, traitorous emotions.

“Zuko? What are you...”  Katara scanned him head to toe, her eyebrows raising.  “Black doesn’t really blend in here, you know.”

He hoped the moon wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the his flushed face.  It seemed to glow a little brighter at that thought.

“...I didn’t pack any white,” he mumbled, dodging her gaze.  “And I, uh, sorry it’s late, I should’ve asked—”

She grinned and pulled him inside.  Woven tapestries adorned the walls, and a pattern of waves in the floor-length rug divided the small kitchen from the bed space.  A few polished ice windows let in the gibbous moon’s light. The fire pit in the corner and sconces set into the icy walls were unlit, but somehow the hut was still warm.  He hadn’t realized how much energy it had taken to hold his core temperature until he didn’t have to anymore.

“It’s fine.  I wasn’t asleep anyway,” she said, though her unmade bed and disheveled hair said otherwise.  Her fingers reached up to tame the wayward curls.  “I’m sorry, though.  I don’t have the spirit water yet.  I was going to ask Yugoda tonight, but the healing class went late...”

“Huh?  Oh!  I—I didn’t think you would.  I mean, I didn’t expect you to yet, I... that’s not why I’m here.”  He ran a hand through his hair, mostly to stop it from reaching for hers.  Agni, trying to talk to her this late was stupid for more reasons than one.  But he was running out of time.  She might not have the spirit water now, but she would soon.  And then she’d expect him to make his decision—or rather, to go through with the decision he’d already made.  The decision he’d been so sure was right, was necessary, until…

Until he’d realized just how complicated his feelings still were.

“You’re not?”  She asked in confusion.  “Then why… um…”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”  That probably wasn’t a good enough reason to invade someone’s house in the middle of the night.  It was the truth, though—he’d never been able to lie to her.  Now he just needed to ask his question before any worse truths came out.

“You snuck out of the palace at night… just to talk to me?”  Her lips curved towards a grin.

He felt his face flush again and winced.  So much for not revealing anything else.  

“Well not just to talk to you, I mean, you wanted to know if I could sneak out.  So. I can.”

Did that sound better or worse?  She frowned as her fingers caught in her hair, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of what he said or just from the tangle.

“Oh.  That’s good, then.”  Her hands dropped back to her sides.  “Um.  It’s kind of dark in here, do you mind…”

He lit the lamps in the wall sconces before she could finish.  Warm light swept over them, seeming to wash the stiffness out of Katara’s posture.

“Thanks.”  She smiled, and he hid a sigh of relief.  She hadn’t told him he was being stupid, or to go back to the palace before someone noticed he was gone.  She was letting him stay.  He’d get to ask her.

His stomach clenched at that realization, and his hand instinctively found his scar again.  

“Are you… does it hurt?”  Katara asked softly.  Her hand twitched towards him.  

“Does it hurt?”  

He flinched away at the memory of Mai’s words.  The spark that had brought him to this decision.  

“I’m sorry.”  Her arm quickly curled back to her chest, as if his response had burned her.  

“No, it’s—it doesn’t hurt.”  His hand stayed pressed against it anyway.  

“Not anymore.  She did a fantastic job.” 

“Are you sure?  I could… I mean, I don’t have the spirit water, but I know Aang’s lightning wound still acts up sometimes, and regular healing can help the pain.”

The offer was tempting, but for all the wrong reasons.  He could only imagine what Mai would think if she could see him now, considering taking off his shirt in a different girl’s room.

He shook his head quickly.  “I’m fine.  Really.”

“Okay,” she said in a tone that suggested she didn’t buy it.  He was telling the truth though—the kind of hurt he clung to couldn’t be healed with waterbending.  

A rebellious part of him thought it might still be healed with her hands.

“At least have some tea.”  She was already moving to the small fire pit in the corner of the room.  

“Alright.”  He smiled a little and followed her, crouching down to light the fire before she could ask.

“You’re going to spoil me, doing that.” She chuckled as she bent the water from her waterskin into the kettle.

“What do you mean?  You asked me to light the torches. Besides, I used to start the cookfire all the time.”

“I know.  It took me almost a month to get used to doing it myself again.”  She set the kettle on the grate above the flames.  

He suppressed the fire from a bright yellow blaze to a gentle orange, the way Uncle had taught him so the water wouldn’t heat too quickly and spoil the tea’s flavor.  

He shrugged.  “Sounds like I should make up for lost time, then.”

“I guess it is kind of cool to have the Fire Lord performing menial labor for me.” 

The return to her humor was a relief. Teasing was easier to handle than sympathy.

He flexed his fingers over the fire and deadpanned, “We’ll see if my delicate royal hands will be able to handle it.” 

“Well, don’t overexert yourself.”

They fell into comfortable conversation while the water heated, and for at least those few moments, it really was like old times.  The tension bled out of him, evaporated in the smell of charcoal, the warmth of the crackling flames, the cadence of Katara’s laugh.  He knew he still needed to ask his question, but a selfish part of him wanted to just enjoy the peaceful moment. To enjoy being with her.

He was enjoying this.  That was dangerous. Disasters usually followed moments like these.

“Zuko?”  Her hand on his shoulder snapped him from those thoughts.  “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he said reflexively.  He wasn’t ready for her sympathy, wasn’t ready to see her sad because of him again.  So even though he should’ve used it as a chance to ask his question, a different one came out.  “How are your combat lessons going?”

“They’re going fine, I guess.  It’s nice to have other waterbenders to train against, but I’ve mastered the Northern Style of waterbending already.”  She shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal that she was a Master at age fifteen.   It seemed he was destined to always be surrounded by prodigies. 

“I’ve actually been working on developing some new techniques.”  She scooted closer to the flames.  And to him, technically, but he assumed that was just a side-effect.  “You know that move you always use when you get knocked down?  Where you do the spinny thing with your legs?”

She twirled a finger in the air, and he rolled his eyes.  Spinny thing.  Well, it wasn’t as bad as being teased for the Dancing Dragon, he guessed.

“Of course I do.  I invented that move.”  Rolling across the ground, transferring the momentum of a fall to his windmilling legs, releasing a whirlwind of fire to cover him as he regained his stance—the exact way he used it varied depending on the circumstance, but the maneuver had been one of his favorites ever since he’d used an early version of it against Zhao.

“Really?”  She blinked.  “Actually, that explains a lot.  I always thought it looked different from other firebending moves.  That’s why I tried to adapt it to waterbending.” 

“You’re kidding.” He gave her a disbelieving look.  “You haven’t seen me use it in ages.”

“Yeah, well, I— it might not be the same move, exactly.  It was more like, you know, an inspiration.” 

“Sounds more like stealing to me.”  He smirked.  Inspiration, stealing—either way, she’d thought about him. That felt like some kind of victory.  If one in a game he shouldn’t be playing.

“Oh yeah, like how you stole my water whips?”  She raised her eyebrows.   “Or the wave form?”

“That’s different.  Those moves already existed; I created this firebending technique on my own.”  

It had taken a lot of practice—and even more falls—to make it work.  Maybe she was right about it being more suited for waterbending; that could explain why perfecting it had been so difficult.  The effort had been worth it, though. The move had been one of the few advantages he’d had against the more traditional firebending style, which didn’t provide any way to recover after being knocked down.

“Hmm.  Did you name it then?”

He snorted.  “No.”  

The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.  Should it have?  No, that was something he could imagine his father doing.  He would’ve come up with a ridiculous name like “Ozai’s Phoenix” or something.

“That’s too bad.  I’ve been calling it the Spinny Fire Fall Kick in my head, but that doesn’t have a great ring to it.”  She rubbed her chin before giving him a sly look.  “Then again, if you haven’t named your move yet, then I could name it first.”

He choked a little.  “We are not calling it the… what did you say?”

“Spinny Fire Fall Kick.”  She grinned.  “Though I guess mine would be the Spinny Water Fall Kick.  Actually, Waterfall Kick isn’t such a bad idea...”

“And here I thought only Sokka came up with the terrible names.” He groaned and leaned back on his hands. Still, he couldn’t completely hide the smile on his lips.

“I’ve had to pick up the slack since he’s been gone.  Besides, I’d like to see you come up with something better.”  

“I will.  As soon as I see you pull that move off.”

“Is that a challenge?” 

Her smug look sent static up his spine.  But before he could reply, the kettle started screeching.

Katara jumped to take it off the fire and then muttered at it under her breath.  “I should’ve taken it off sooner.  I can cool it with my bending, but boiled water still never tastes as good.”

“It’s not your fault, I should’ve been keeping an eye on the fire.”  He held the teapot while she poured in the hot water.  “Either way, I probably won’t notice.”

After searching for a moment, she found a pouch of lavender petals near her bed and returned to crumble them into the pot.  “Didn’t you work in a tea shop, though?  And your tea was always pretty good.”

It was?  Uncle said he’d improved after their time in Ba Sing Se, but Zuko had thought he was just trying to spare his feelings after he’d struggled for so long.  He smiled a little at the compliment.  

“Uncle taught me how to make tea properly, but I still can’t taste a difference.  It’s all hot leaf juice, more or less.”

“Hang on.  You make the best tea and you can’t even tell?”  

“So my tea’s the best now?”  His smile widened.  Katara didn’t pass out compliments easily—at least, she never had to him.

“Oh, don’t go getting a big head about it.”  She rolled her eyes. Firelight flickered over her face, giving her cheeks the impression of a blush.  “You’re probably out of practice by now, anyway.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He might not appreciate the taste of tea, but brewing it was soothing, in a strange way.  Maybe it was just another of his nostalgic hobbies—if one with less potentially-dangerous consequences than running around on rooftops.  The warm herbal scents always brought him welcome comfort when Uncle had to travel on political business.  Brewing tea also doubled as a firebending control and meditation exercise, which helped during the moments when he wanted to light his paperwork on fire and chuck it out a window.

Of course, the calming effect hadn’t helped him during the one disastrous time he’d tried to show off his tea-making skills to Mai.

“You don’t have to pretend to be a peasant anymore, Zuko.  Just let the servants do it.  That’s their job.”

“It’s not like that, Mai.  I want to do it.  Uncle taught me how when we were in Ba Sing Se—” 

“Pretending to be peasants.”

“Those peasants are good people!  They’re proud and strong, and they deserve our respect.”

“Are you serious?  This isn’t a public address, Zuko.  You don’t have to pretend you care about them.”

“I’m not—ugh, forget it!”

He didn’t realize his hand had found his scar—again—until Katara passed him a steaming teacup.  If she noticed his action, she didn’t point it out.

The warm vapor curling from the cup loosened the tightness in his throat. What had they been talking about?  Oh, right. Tea.

“Your tea’s good too,” he said belatedly.

She snorted and shook her head before pouring her own cup.  “You just said all tea tastes like hot leaf juice.”

“Yeah— err…”  He covered his stammering with a sip and nearly choked when it burned his tongue.  “It’s—uh, good leaf juice.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”  She smiled and chilled her tea with a breath.

“Um… do you mind doing mine too?”  He asked, holding out his cup with a sheepish smile.  

“You mean the firebender doesn’t want it scalding hot?”

“This firebender’s had enough burns, thanks.”  He meant it to be a joke, but his voice came out too somber.  

Her eyes flickered to his left eye, then his middle.  He fought the urge to protect that spot—it wasn’t like she could see the scar through his black clothes, and even if she could, she’d seen it plenty of times before while healing him.

“Of course.”  She exhaled over his cup, accidentally covering his knuckles in frost as well.  He shivered before taking a sip.

Too cold.  At least that was a problem he could fix.  Katara’s downcast silence, on the other hand, might not be.

Nice going.  Zuko wanted to groan.  For these last few moments, he’d felt… right. For once.  Like he belonged here, sitting on her floor, talking about nothing and drinking tea.  For those moments, he didn’t have to be the Fire Lord.  He didn’t have to be the perfect boyfriend.  He didn’t have to be anything—except himself.

But he’d known it wouldn’t last.  Things that made him happy generally didn’t.

Well, at least he didn’t have anything to lose by asking his question now.

He cleared his throat.  “Katara?”

“Yeah?”  She asked quickly, meeting his eyes over her teacup.

Don’t look at me like that.  It’s not fair.  The reflection of flames danced in her blue irises.  It would be difficult to toe the line between telling her enough to help him with his question, and not telling her so much that she uncovered his real motivation for asking.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” He hoped his desperation didn’t show through his voice.  “Getting rid of my scars, I mean.”

There.  It was out.  Maybe it was a stupid question—it felt stupid, now that he said it out loud—but he needed to know.  He certainly had enough reasons to want them gone, but part of him—the same part that liked sneaking out in black clothes and brewing his own tea—felt an attachment to the blemishes on his skin.  It was too complicated to sort out in his head, but talking it out with her might help him decide.  She’d helped him gain the courage to apologize to Uncle.  He believed she’d have similar wisdom again.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her reply.

“...Do you not want to get rid of them?”  

“I do.  I did.  I don’t know.”  He covered his middle with one hand, the other gripping his teacup so tightly it could crack.  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Well, if you want to get it off your mind, I’m here,” she prodded gently.  

“Are you sure?  It’s complicated.  It might take a while.”  

“Of course I’m sure, Zuko.  That’s why I offered.”  Her tone was light, but her smile sincere.

He inhaled shakily.  He didn’t know what he’d expected.  Katara wasn’t the type to tell him to shut up, but he still wasn’t used to anyone besides Uncle caring about what he had to say.  Unless what he said was a Fire Lord order, of course, but that didn’t count.

“Right.”  He took a sip of tea to collect himself. “I told you how I got the scar on my face.  I used to think it marked me—but you know that.”

Another gulp of tea.  She knew all this.  He was just going to bore her, going over it again.  He should have gotten over it by now. After four years, he was still just weak, pathetic—

Her hand was covering his over the teacup.  It wasn’t until then that he realized he was shaking.  A few drops of tea had fallen on his dark pants. He hadn’t felt it.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. 

“It’s not okay.”  His voice came out too harsh, but her hand just tightened over his.  “I’ve chosen my own destiny.  My father’s in prison, and Azula’s getting help for her… condition.  I’m not in their shadow anymore. I can fix the terrible things we’ve done.  But this scar…”  He shook his head.  “People look at it, and they don’t see what it means to me. All they see is a weak, disfigured boy trying to fix a weak disfigured nation.”

“Zuko, no one—”

“You haven’t seen it!  It’s even worse here, everyone stares!  I can tell they’re thinking it.  How am I supposed to represent my country when people take one look at me and think I’m—I’m disgusting?”

His voice cracked on that last word. His eyes squeezed shut.  It wasn’t so bad, usually.  People in the palace knew better than to stare.  But foreign nobles and ambassadors, his own citizens, and the Water Tribe—they didn’t.  Wide eyes and barely-veiled gasps often were their first reactions.  

Deep down he wondered if that was why the Tribe didn’t speak to him much outside of the trade negotiations.

“Zuko.”  Katara squeezed his arm.  

His trembling hand splashed more tea into his lap, but he barely noticed.  Her stare pinned him as easily as her ice needles could have.

“You are not weak.  You’re not disgusting, either, I can’t believe you would—” She shook her head, and her gaze softened.  “My point is… you don’t deserve that.  Scar or no scar, you’re…”

His heart sank as she trailed off.  If even Katara, the one person who could both scare him senseless and tell him exactly what he needed to hear, couldn’t think of something positive to say about him, then he was even worse off than he’d thought.

But it didn’t matter.  He was here for advice, not sympathy.  He was just about to shrug it off when her voice came warm and clear.

“...you’re the strongest person I know.”

He blinked.  Had he heard that right?  No.  Aang had defeated his father; that by definition made him the strongest person she knew.  Besides herself.

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Katara.  I just—”

“What, you really think I’d lie to make you feel better?  Can’t you just trust me and take the compliment for once?”  

This time he wasn’t sure the fire in her eyes was just a reflection. He wasn’t sure whether to feel afraid or touched.

“Sorry.  I’m not used to it, I guess… but thanks.”  He swallowed another gulp of tea, then busied himself refilling his cup.  Hopefully that would keep her from seeing the redness in his face.  

“No, wait, I’m sorry.”

He looked up at the sound of her sigh.  Her eyes remained downcast, staring at her frosted tea.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.  I do want you to feel better, but I… this must be bothering you more than I know.  I can’t fix that with words, and it just makes me…”  She trailed off as ice began to crystalize through her cup again.  “It’s no excuse, though.”

“No, I get it.”  He lit a fire in his palm and held it near her tea until the ice thawed.  “Sorry I yelled, too.”

She didn’t deserve that.  She didn’t have to listen to him at all, but here she was, letting him ramble about his problems when she could be sleeping.  She was a better friend than he deserved.

“I know there’s nothing you can say, and I don’t expect you to.  My scar will always make me look different.  People don’t like you when you’re different.”

She frowned down into her still-full cup. “...I can understand that.  That doesn’t make them right, though.”

Maybe it didn’t, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt.  

“There’s other reasons I should get rid of it, too.  My sight and hearing aren’t as good on my left side.  Every once in a while the skin still itches, especially when I’m in dry places.”

“Even after all this time?”  She looked up, her brows turned upward.

“I didn’t have a waterbending healer like you to fix it.  There’s only so much regular medicine could do.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway.  I’ve got a lot of reasons to want it gone.”

“But… you have some reasons for wanting to keep it too?”  She picked up on what he left unsaid.

“...Yeah.  I do.”  He brushed his fingers over his older scar.  The rough skin felt right to his touch by now.  He wasn’t sure what his face would feel like without it.

Actually, he feared that he did.

“I don’t want to look like…”  He grimaced.  “You know.  You mistook his baby picture for me.  That’s not the only time we looked similar.”

Katara blinked before catching on.  “You mean… oh.”

“Yeah,” he said before she could study him. Look for any traces of Ozai in his face.  

Logically, he knew that she’d never seen Ozai in person.  She wouldn’t be able to tell one way or another.  Somehow, that was comforting.

“That’s not the only reason.  The other reason, though… it might sound kind of stupid.”  His thumb traced the etchings on his teacup. “I got this scar right before I was banished.  Looking back, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.  I feel like if I erase this scar, it’s like saying I regret everything that happened since then.  Like I’d just be going back to the person I was before.”

He took a long drink.  The tea was already cold again, but he didn’t bother warming it.  

“Zuko… I don’t think that’s stupid at all.  It’s… kind of sweet, actually.”

He choked on his tea.  When he looked up, Katara was smiling softly again.

“Sweet?”  

“You know what I mean.”  She drained her cup in one gulp and refilled it by bending a stream out of the teapot.  “It reminds you of who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Something in his stomach unclenched at that.  It didn’t really help, though—she’d validated both his reasons for wanting to keep and to get rid of the facial scar.  

“How can you say that?  I brought you all the way here to get rid of my scars, and now I’m telling you I might have wasted your time.”

“No, you haven’t.  I’m still glad I came, whether you want me to heal you or not.  Like I said before, I needed the vacation, remember?”  

“It’s not a vacation.  Technically.”

She shrugged.  “We’re staying up late and I’m not doing anyone’s laundry.  Feels like a vacation to me.”

“It is getting late, isn’t it…”  He frowned at the moon through the window.  It had been too easy to ignore how limited their time was.

“Hey.  Don’t change the subject.”  She nudged him gently. “You were on a roll there.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile.  Of course she wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.

“You changed it first, talking about vacations.  But anyway.  I still don’t know what I’m going to do.”  He sighed over his tea, which had the welcome side effect of reheating it.  “I don’t want you to ask for the water for nothing.”

“Even if you don’t want me to use it, it wouldn’t hurt to have some in case of an emergency.  You never know, traveling with Aang.  He might, I don’t know, fall off a hopping llama or something.”  

It was a joke, he knew; she could heal simple injuries like that.  But neither of them wanted to imagine their friend suffering another wound that would need spirit water.

He nodded.  “You still didn’t answer my first question, though.  Do you think I should get rid of my scars, or keep them?”

Despite everything, he managed to keep his voice even.  He was pushing his luck by asking a second time.  But what she thought about this was important to him—more important than it had any right to be.  If she told him to keep his scars, he knew he would.

And maybe, deep down, that was what he hoped.  

Katara swirled her tea in her cup, but didn’t answer.  What was she thinking? She hated them too, didn’t she; she was just thinking of a polite way to tell him—

“You remember when you helped me find Yon Rha, right?”

The sudden transition caught him off guard.

“Of course I do.”  

As if he could ever forget.  Her silhouette against the sunrise after a sleepless night, her raw power turning the body’s blood against it, her anger freezing rain to daggers.  Exhaustion, pain, fear, relief.  It had been the first time he felt like he truly saw her.

Ever since, he hadn’t been able to look away.

“You didn’t tell me what to do when I faced him,” she continued, oblivious to the warmth and guilt circling each other in his stomach.  “I had to make that choice myself.  I think this is your Yon Rha, Zuko.  Whatever you choose to do will be right.  But it’s your choice.  I’ll be with you, no matter what you decide.”

He stared at her in stunned silence.  He swore she’d hear his heart beating out of his chest.  How did she know exactly what to say? She must have secretly talked to Uncle.  But even Uncle didn’t know about his plan to erase his scars.

“Ride or die, huh?”  He grinned a little, remembering the jokes Sokka had made about them after that trip, and then again before they left to face Azula.  They’d brushed Sokka off with some huffing, and—in Katara’s case—waterbending.

 She gave him a pointed look, and her eyes flickered towards his middle. “Just ride.  No dying this time.”

“No dying,” he said with his hand pressed against that scar.  He wondered if her answer would’ve changed if he explained his reasons for erasing and keeping that scar, rather than the one on his face.  Her half-parted lips made him wonder if she wanted to ask.  But she just drained her teacup and refilled it with her bending.  

He could see inside the teapot; it was down to the dregs now.  He didn’t really want them, and he didn’t need to buy any more time.  He’d asked his question.

He dumped what he could into his cup anyway.  

“Thank you, Katara.”

“It’s no problem.  I trust you, remember?”  

With that smile, she could’ve bent him as if he were water.  

He buried his face in the rest of his strong tea, wishing he shared her confidence in him.  This was a decision he only got to make once.  His usual habit of bungling things the first time wouldn’t work here.

“So… do you still want me to get the spirit water?”  She asked.  The real question.

“You said it yourself. It won’t hurt to have it.”  He swallowed the last of his tea.  He’d warmed it too much; it scalded his throat on the way down.  

He told himself that that was the only part of him that hurt.

“Right.”  She nodded.  “Tomorrow I’ll make sure to talk to Yugoda.  Or today, I guess.  I’ve kept you up late enough.”

“Last I checked, you weren’t the one who showed up at my house in the middle of the night.” 

She laughed.  “Fine.  You’ve kept me up late enough.”

“Sorry.”  He started clearing up what he could of the tea set, but she quickly washed it with a dancing stream of water and bent the dirty remnants into a basin.

“Don’t worry about it.  I rise with the moon anyway, remember?”

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Trust me, I remember.”

He’d never imagined they’d be able to joke about that comment, only a little over a year later.  He’d never imagined he’d look at her and not see just a dangerous waterbender, but a… a good friend.  

Someone who instead of fighting, he had almost died for.

His lightning scar seemed to itch, as it always did when he thought of that Agni Kai.  Of all the stupid reasons to want to keep his scar, that was the stupidest.  

Erasing the scar wouldn’t erase the memories.  It wouldn’t change the past. She would always be a part of him, no matter what.  He was beginning to wonder if even spirit water could fix that.  

Or if he wanted it to.

But he had to hope it could, didn’t he?  Like water through his fingers, Katara would leave again.  He couldn’t keep clinging to the past.

“Zuko, wait.” Katara’s voice shook him from his thoughts.  “I’m not letting you go back in that.”  

She was already across the room, where he’d remained standing in front of the fire.  The flames extinguished with a sharp flick of his wrist. He left the sconces lit, though, not wanting to plunge the room into complete darkness.

She pulled a nearly folded parka from the trunk at the foot of her bed.  After holding it up and inspecting its length, she tossed it to him.

“You’ll be less noticeable this way.  Everyone wears parkas at the North Pole.  No one will think it’s weird if you pull the hood up over your face.”

He nodded.  It was smart, definitely smarter than his pure black ensemble.  

“You won’t need it?”

“I have a spare.  Besides, I wouldn’t want you freezing out there.”

“Firebenders don’t freeze.”  He shrugged on the parka anyway.  It was a little small, but it felt softer than it looked; thick white fur lined the inside.  Some of Katara’s clean scent still clung to it.  He restrained himself from taking a deep breath.

So much for letting go.

“Look at that.  Practically Water Tribe.”  She crossed her arms and smiled as she looked him over.  

He ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling a little like a turtleduck with how the fluffy collar covered his face up to his ears.

“It’s better than Earth Kingdom colors.”  He tugged on the too-short sleeves. “Thanks.”

“You can thank me by not getting caught sneaking back to your room.”  She gently shoved him towards the door.  He chuckled as she herded him out, barely managing to get out a “goodnight.”  

He took one deep breath and let it out, letting the freezing air clear his head again.  He was right back where he’d started, still just as confused about what to do.  Yet somehow, everything felt different.  

This choice was his.  He could determine his own destiny.

Maybe firebenders didn’t freeze, but as he made his way back, he still felt warmer with her parka enveloping him.

[phandomphightclub]

Phinal Round, First Place Match: @reallydumbdannyphantomaus vs. @heyheyitsstillgay

The ring was repaved. Vic and Tali were back in their seats. Tucker had finally gotten some decent food.

Finally, finally, everything was ready for the final battle.

“Bug versus Anri, huh?” Tucker asked.  “Is it too late to place bets?”

“Who would you bet for?” Danny asked in return.

“Probably Bug, honestly,” he said after taking a big bite from his burger.  “They might be a pain, but they’re apparently pretty good.  Not a ton of ghosts can get the whole duplication thing down.”

“I’d still vote for Anri,” Sam argued.  “They’ve got more raw power.  Plus it looks like they have more abilities than they let on.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out who’s gonna win!”  Tali said brightly as the two ghosts once again entered the ring.

“Our phinal match here, pholks!  Winner gets all glory, honor, bragging rights, and a year’s supply of free Denny’s pancakes.”

“Really?”  Danny perked up at that.  The Denny’s might not have the greatest food, but their pancakes were pretty good.  And a year’s supply of free ones?  He might enter the tournament next time for that.

“Really!  So let’s get this phight started!  From the Observant’s Keep, a ghost who once tried to eat fake grass out of an escape room, we have Reallydumbdannyphantomaus!”

“That was one time!”  They shouted up at Tali, who just laughed.

“And their opponent from Nightmare Valley, a ghost with memes so dank they can’t be seen by the mortal eye, Heyheyitsstillgay!”

They waved to the crowd with a staff made entirely out of Danno faces.

“PHIGHT!”

Bug extended their PowerPoint staff like a lightsaber, red glow and all.  “Ready to finish this, binch?”

“I died ready.”

They two ghosts clashed over the freshly-paved center of the ring.  The Danno staff squealed each time it made contact with Bug’s PowerSaber.

“Is that, like, gonna burn your face too?”  Tucker asked Danny.  “Like some kind of voodoo or something?”

“Shut up, Tucker,” Sam said offhand, her entire attention glued to the fight.

Anri brought her Danno staff down in a heavy overhand blow, putting more of their extra-dense weight into the attack.  Bug blocked, using all four of their arms to hold up the PowerSaber.

“You… have strength, I’ll give you that,” Bug said through gritted teeth.  They couldn’t have blocked that attack if they’d used any of their energy on making duplicates; this was going to be tough.

“I’ve got more than that. I’ve been around longer than you can imagine,” They said, their face inches from Bug’s.  “My core is ancient and fueled by things you’ve only seen in your nightmares.”

“Your… core, huh?” Bug asked, getting an idea.  Twisting and diverting Anri’s staff, they slipped one hand free to punch them in the gut.  Anri grunted and gave Bug an opening to dart away.

“You’re not gonna break my core that easily,” Anri said, spinning her staff and coming back in swinging. Bug snapped theirs into two halves, blocking with one red-glowing half and striking Anri’s side with the other.

“I don’t plan on breaking it.”  Bug smirked. Then they plunged one half of the PowerSaber into Anri’s unprotected stomach.

Anri stopped for a moment, stunned at the wound – but then, as Danny knew would happen, the dark energy began coalescing around it.

“What’s Bug thinking?” He asked.  “They know Anri can’t be beat like that!”

“Why not?”  Sam asked.  That’s right, she and Tucker weren’t there for that match.

“They’ve got a special power.  Instead of being fueled by ectoplasm, the inside of their form is – well, just watch.”

The memes began to trickle from Anri’s stomach as they pulled out the Power Saber.

“You’re in for it now.” They grinned ominously.  But to their surprise, Bug grinned back and stabbed the half of the PowerSaber they had left into the ground.  The projector screen unfurled from it, casting blinding light onto Anri.

“That’s not going to—”

But blinding wasn’t what Bug had in mind.  The two halves of the saber created a link – one that siphoned the memes from Anri’s form and projected them onto the screen.

“What – no!”  Anri shouted, feeling their form begin to droop as it lost its power.  Bug folded two hands behind their back, using the other two to point to the presentation.

“And if you’ll look at this diagram, you’ll see the different types of memes that Anri contains broken down by type and percentage.  I would draw your attention to this slice of the pie chart, which depicts the percentage of bad Danno edits.  It’s unusually high in comparison to the other types of memes, though they are all equally impressive…”

“You can’t just – my memes – my PowerPoint slides – how can you take them from me!?”

Bug pointed to the half of the saber that Anri still held.  “You did that to yourself, my good binch.  You should’ve kept your hands to yourself.”

“NOOOOO!”

And with that last shout, Anri’s flesh prison deflated completely.  We won’t describe what that looked like, because we’re sure it’s already frightening enough, and probably wasn’t suitable for children to watch.  However, the Denny’s does not have insurance for psychic and/or emotional damage caused by exposure to any of the phights, so hopefully everyone could deal with it on their own, or had officially-licensed, non-Spectra therapists who could help them cope.

“Dude, are they gonna be okay?”  Tucker asked.

“Oh, Anri?”  Tali laughed.  “Don’t worry, they do that about once a century.  They’ll replace those memes with even worse ones and come back stronger than ever.  Kind of like molting, or something.  But in the meantime everyone can press F to pay respects.”

Danny looked down and saw a tiny button labeled F on the armrest of his chair.  He pressed it.

Tali blew her kazoo to the tune of Never Gonna Give You Up.  Every verse.  All three minutes and fifty-six seconds of it.  The crowd listened with their arms raised in a respectful dab.  Danny figured he might as well dab too, and eventually even Sam caught on to the mood and obliged.

When the song was over, Tali finally said the fated words.

“Heyheyitsstillgay is unable to battle!  Reallydumbdannyphantomaus wins!”

XXX

“Tucker!  Sam!  Wait!”  A voice called as Danny was about to fly them out of the Denny’s.

“Oh great.”  A resigned glare slid over Sam’s face as she turned to the ghost.  Of course, it had to be Bug.  The one ghost she’d wanted to see get their butt kicked, and it never even happened.

“What do you want?” Tucker grumbled.  “Come to make fun of us again?”

“No, well, actually…” Bug ruffled their blue hair with one hand, two others fidgeting in front of them. “I came to make up.  Here.”

With their last remaining hand, they held out three CDs, one for each of the friends.  Sam took hers with a critical glare.

“Exactly what you think?”  She read the title.  Bug’s signature was scrawled below it.

“It’s the song I wrote for the phinal.  As a friendship gift.”

“If I wanted some lame music, I would’ve gotten something signed by Ember.”

Danny elbowed her, and her she winced.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t fair to hold a grudge for something Bug said one time.  It wasn’t like they had to go out of the way to give them something.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Thanks.”

“What song is it?” Tucker asked, a little more brightly. He’d never learned to hold a grudge like she did.

“You’ll see!”  They grinned.  “But if you want to know just how lame my music is before that, come watch the closing ceremonies of the Phight.”

“Closing ceremonies?” Danny asked.

“What, Tali didn’t tell you? She does forget a lot.  Anyway, we’re holding it out in the ring in a few minutes, if you’ve got time!  See ya!”

They flew back out of the Denny’s, leaving Danny, Tucker, and Sam confused.  They shared a glance, but figured they already knew what they’d be doing.

“So… who’s up for one last blast in the ghost zone?”

XXX

A few minutes later, the stadium was packed again, this time with ghosts holding candles over their heads. As Danny didn’t have a candle himself, he settled for lighting the tip of his finger and swaying it in time with the music that Bug began to sing.  Tali backed them up on kazoo, putting her soul into the tune’s melancholy air.

Oh Danno boy The phights, the phights are calling From den to den and through this portal side The show is on and all the blows are falling Tis you tis you must go and I must bide But bring ye back when Denny’s is reopened Or when the ring is hushed and in limbo It’s I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow Oh Danno boy oh Danno boy I love you so.

Danny turned at the sound of sniffling.

“What?”  Tucker asked, drying his eyes on his beret.  “It’s a very emotional song!”

Sam sighed and patted his shoulder, to which he mumbled a thank you.

Then slowly and more orderly than they had after any of the phights, the ghosts began to filter away. Almost like they too were mourning the end of a tournament that they’d all enjoyed.  As they left, Danny pondered the lyrics.

“Does this mean… the Denny’s is closing?”

“Only physically,” Tali said, suddenly appearing beside him.  “But in our hearts, the Denny’s is forever.”

“I’m not sure if that was sappy or ominous,” Sam said.

“Both.”  Tali smiled.  “We’ll still be around, but we’ll be on the downlow until the next Phight.”

“When’s that?”  Tucker asked.

“Next year, probably. It’s a lot of work to run a Phight Club on nothing but a few pancakes and the money we conned out of Vlad.  But don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you know it!”

And somehow, in spite of all the crazy things that had happened in the past month of watching the Phight, Danny looked forward to it.