#instead of y’know sticking with the stuff I’ve been using since middle school

[marinecorvid]

sorry venting

the joy of having fun little knickknacks and thingamajigs related to what you love VS. the desire to not become overwhelmed by material items + the agony overwhelming that comes with being keenly surrounded by stuff: FIGHT

[stevesharrlngtons]

just a little downhill.

mickey x reader

summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:

Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him. 

When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives. 

Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam. 

You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way. 

And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit. 

Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.

Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved. 

Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).  

But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most. 

And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more. 

Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen. 

Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.

The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking. 

And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.

Thanks mom. Fuck you.

“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door. 

“Didn't Ma call?” 

“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch. 

“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.” 

The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times. 

Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing. 

Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time. 

“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips. 

Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance. 

“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance. 

“What are you doing here, Kev?” 

Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch. 

“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,” 

“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.” 

“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table. 

His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again. 

“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette. 

“(Y/N) loves me,” 

“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.” 

That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need a job.” 

And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last. 

Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up. 

Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course. 

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged. 

“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply. 

“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” 

“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!” 

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”

“I’m being serious!” 

“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.” 

“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.” 

“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock. 

Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. 

“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you. 

“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace. 

You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him

“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.

Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you. 

“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug. 

When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.

“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?” 

You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone. 

“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.” 

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”

You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke. 

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?” 

“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison. 

You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.

“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen. 

“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother. 

“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”

“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -” 

“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.” 

“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!” 

“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?” 

“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?” 

The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far. 

“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.” 

Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.” 

“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit. 

With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall. 

“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated. 

“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.” 

“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed. 

“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache. 

Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”

You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully. 

“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence. 

You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration. 

“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did. 

“I do. And I love you, too.” 

Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his. 

“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm. 

Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring. 

“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.” 

“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.” 

Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”

The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.

“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.” 

“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.

“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”

“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”

“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest. 

“Yeah? Well, then what am I?” 

You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.” 

Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?” 

“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.” 

And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love. 

“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned. 

“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips. 

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy. 

So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him. 

But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could. 

Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.

A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot: 

“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.” 

And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.

A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe. 

“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.” 

“Really?” 

Mickey simply shrugged. 

You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering. 

“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.

He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze. 

“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.” 

“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously. 

Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit. 

“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.” 

Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy. 

“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of. 

“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow. 

Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.” 

His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology. 

“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery. 

“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt. 

“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“ 

“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?” 

You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt. 

“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving. 

“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.” 

“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind. 

“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click. 

You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.” 

You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck. 

Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.

“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point. 

“And if I was?” 

As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist. 

You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of  dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it. 

if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (:  if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!

[beelsnack]

Hello! Since requests are open, can I please see the brother’s reactions to an MC getting their really long curly hair cut short? Not for any bad, reason, just because MC wanted to do it. Also if it’s possible can you use gn pronouns (they/them) for this? Thank you so much! Your headcanons are the best!

Aw, you’re so welcome! I’m always down for a hair-canon, lol.

Lucifer: It was quite an accomplishment to make Lucifer do a double take.

When they had left for classes that morning, they appeared as they always did - uniform slightly askew but otherwise fairly in order, school bag bulging with all of the books they took out from the library, and, of course, their wild tangle of curls wrestled back into a very precarious ponytail.

When they returned, however, their waist length hair now settled against their jaw, styled in a carefully messy bob.

“So that’s why you’re late.” he remarked in lieu of a greeting, rising from his seat in the living room.

“Yeah, it was time for a haircut, haha,” they reached up to rub at the back of their neck, unused to the cool air against the skin there. “It was starting to get kind of ridiculous.”

Lucifer reached out, wrapping a strand around his finger thoughtfully. “You look quite satisfied with it.”

“I feel like I’ve gotten rid of five pounds worth of hair.” they grinned. “Now maybe I won’t have to buy hair ties every week.”

“How frugal,” Lucifer laughed as he let the curl bounce back into place. “It suits you.”

Mammon: “Uh, human? Where did the rest of your hair go?”

The brothers’ barging into their room unannounced was such a common occurrence that they didn’t even look up from their homework when Mammon practically kicked the door in.

“A witch stole it so she could use it in some mystical voodoo bullshit.”

“Huh?!”

They turned their head towards the doorway, rolling their eyes fondly. “I got a haircut, dummy.”

Mammon looked like his heart was about cartwheel out of his chest. “You can’t joke about that kind of stuff!”

“Sorry, sorry,” they tried to smother their giggles as Mammon pouted, stomping across the room to plant himself on the corner of the human’s desk. 

“Why d’ya cut it, anyway?”

“Taking care of it was a pain in the neck. Sometimes literally.” they shook their head, letting the short curls slap lightly against their face. “Cutting it short makes it easier to deal with, y’know?”

“I guess...” Mammon subconsciously reached out to pet their head before he realized what he was doing and backpedaled. “U-Um, I, I don’t - “

“You can touch it, I don’t mind.” they laughed, reaching out and taking a hold of his wrist. “With all the times you let me play with your hair, it’s only fair.”

Mammon would be surprised if they couldn’t feel the heat radiating from his face as they tugged his hand towards their head. Their hair was naturally a bit coarse, and it was obvious there was still some product in it from the salon, but it wasn’t unpleasant to touch. And they seemed to be enjoying themself just as much as he was.

“...You wouldn’t actually let a witch take your hair, would you?”

“Not for free.”

“That’s my human.”

Levi: Of course the group chat was blowing up when he was in the middle of a cutscene.

He considered turning on Do Not Disturb, but that would involve looking away from the screen. Knowing these particularly devs, they probably hid some of the most crucial lore bits in the background of the cutscene, and with his luck, it would be the exact second he took his eyes off of the monitor.

When he finally regained control over the character, he hit pause and picked up his D.D.D. His intention was to skim over the chat to make sure it wasn’t anything super important and then silence it, but when he saw the message log, he found himself frozen.

Human: [image]

Human: What do you guys think?

They were sitting in a salon chair, sticking their tongue out as they took the selfie. Instead of their long, wildly curling mane, their hair had been skillfully cut and styled into a bob.

Asmodeus: Ooh, that style is perfect for you!

Asmodeus: Ever since Crystal from Sucre Frenzy cut her hair, everyone’s been copying her style, but it’s such a you look!

Levi stared at the picture, not even bothering to look at the comments from his brothers. It wasn’t fair, they were too cute! Not that they weren’t cute before, but now they were super cute and - 

His D.D.D pinged, this time as a text message.

What do you think, Levi? Am I as cute as Crystal?

It took him five attempts to actually get his hands to stop shaking enough to type a coherent response.

No way.

You’re cuter.

Satan: “Is there a particular reason why you’re staring at me?”

Satan leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of his hand as he took a drink from his coffee. “You cut your hair.”

“You’re just now noticing this?” they shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I hacked off nearly a foot of hair, Satan, you’re usually more astute than this.”

“In most human literature I’ve read,” he continued. “When someone makes a dramatic change to their appearance, specifically hair, there’s a significant reason behind it.”

“The significant reason is that I’m in literal Hell, my hair retains heat, and if I die down here it isn’t going to be because of my own fucking hair.” 

Satan paused, looking a bit startled before he snorted. “Fair enough. It looks good on you.”

Asmodeus: “You’re sure about this, love?”

They were settled down in front of Asmo’s vanity, staring into the mirror. “Positive. I’ve wanted to switch up styles forever!” they played idly with the end of a curl. “Besides, if nothing else, these split ends have got to go.”

“Oh, hush,” Asmo chided as he leaned over them to grab the scissors from the vanity. “You have, like, a split end.”

“You’re only saying that because you can’t see the actual ends of my hair.”

“Be that as it may,” he laughed when they wrinkled their nose at him in the mirror. “Now, you just sit back and relax, darling. Asmo will take good care of you.”

Beelzebub: “When did you cut your hair?”

They were so used to Beel wandering into the kitchen while they were on cooking duty that they didn’t even jump when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Literally like an hour ago. I was almost late to start dinner because the demon in front of me would not stop trying to chat up the hairdresser.”

They grinned at him, twirling around to show off the full effect. “What do you think?”

Beel hummed. “It’s your hair.”

They tilted their head, looking slightly confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “It means that if you like it, then I like it. I like it when you’re happy.”

Although it hadn’t been his intention, the blush that appeared on their face made him feel like he had just won an award.

Belphegor: “What’s the point of you having your own bed if you’re just going to steal mine?”

Belphie cracked open one eye as the human shut the door behind them. “I miss you when you’re gone.”

The human stared back at him, unimpressed.

“Beel got crumbs in my bed and I didn’t feel like cleaning it.”

“There it is.” the human sighed, flopping down on the bed next to him. When Belphegor opened his other eye, he immediately noticed something different.

“You got a haircut.”

“Figure that out on your own?” they blew him a raspberry as they took their shoes off and settled down next to him. As was routine, he rolled over onto his back and let them lay their head on his chest. 

“Any particular reason why?” he asked, stifling a yawn. 

“I wanted to see how it would feel to go one night without being suffocated by my own hair.”

“I thought you liked being choked.”

They punched him lightly in the stomach. “Shut up.”

He hummed, bringing his hand up to card it through their hair. “I like it. It’s more fun to play with like this.”

They sighed contentedly, relaxing fully against him. “You know that’s going to put me to sleep.”

“That’s the point.”

[danetobelieve]

Faetal Promises || Jeff and Winston

Just one fae promise ... as a treat.

Winston needed a drink. They weren’t above drinking when things got tough. What was that saying? When the going gets tough, the tough go clubbing? Something like that. Either way, before Winston could do anything like that they needed several shots of some whiskey that they were certain they would hate. Heading to the bar, they made eye contact with the bar tender. “I …” they paused and looked at the menu, “what should I have? I always feel like I order the wrong stuff and I always end up hating what I’m drinking, so please can you recommend me something I’d like. I love coffee, do you have any coffee-tails? Coffee-cock-tails?” Looking up at the muscular bartender, Winston’s stomach sunk. Why were they always so hot?

Jeff was pleased to be at work talking again. His boss had been riding his ass over the no talking routine, which apparently as head bartender was ‘unacceptable’. Not like it was his fuckin’ fault, as he tried to express many times. Jeff slid a Karen her margarita, side eyeing her when another person approached the bar looking for recommendations. Jeff grinned at Winston. “Coffee tails?” he said, considering a moment. “Depends on how simple you want it. Irish coffee, rum and coffee, I’ve made an espresso martini before. You got options.” Jeff finished listing off possible cocktails he could make when he realized something. Ah hell, they looked a little young didn’t they? “Maybe slide me your ID first though.” 

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston fumbled around on the inside of their jacket for their wallet and with the most clumsiest fingers began to slowly and painstakingly begin the process of guiding their ID from the wallet. “Sorry, it’s just, like stuck with another card, just one second,” eventually, after a full minute of fumbling they produced an ID and handed it to Jeff. “What is in an espresso martini?” Winston asked curiously, “because honestly if it is made with coffee and it sounds alcoholic then I am in. You know what, can I get one anyway.” Winston settled down at the bar, taking their seat carefully as they waited for Jeff to make their drink. “What do you normally drink?” they asked curiously.

Jeff bit back grinning from ear to ear as he watched them fumble with their ID. Hilarious. Poor kid. “Take your time,” he said easily. It wasn’t like the bar was hopping tonight anyway, the only other person that paid any kind of attention to him was some woman with the Warden haircut. He stopped being as nice to them as he did since his first encounter with them. He checked the ID and nodded. What was it with the kids these days looking so young all the time? “Expressio, vodka, and coffee liqueur. Not my fuckin favoite to drink, but gets the job done.” He considered a moment as he went to make Winston’s drink. “More of a straight whiskey person.” He considered a moment longer before he realized that Winston should probably be out with friends or something instead of looking around for coffee martinis by themselves at a bar. “Long fucking day?”

In that moment Winston couldn’t have wished more that they were less clumsy, especially in front of the overly attractive bar tender in a slightly too tight shirt. Either way, they weren’t going to be able to avoid that. “I get that, everyone that’s a freshman and stuff now just looks like they’re barely out of middle school, let alone high school. Must be a tough job working out who’s old enough to drink, I guess that’s why they make you ID kids.” Winston frowned. “Everyone drinks Whiskey and I kind of get it, it burns good but I don’t know if I would always want to go for straight whiskey.” They frowned and tapped the table. “Kind of, long … five months?” They weren’t exactly sure they should pour their heart out to a bartender, it was a little cliche. “Things are hectic and I’m trying to do the self care shit, I don’t know if drinking counts but I wasn’t really hungry or in need of pampering so…” they shrugged.

Jeff snorted. “You’d be surprised at how many fuckin’ kids I have to kick out for being fucking underage. I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring out who’s trying to sneak one by me at this point, but it’s always better to check then be fucking sorry later.” It was funny hearing that Winston didn’t always go for straight whiskey though. That had been his drink of choice since he participated in underage drinking. He glanced at Winston as he finished off the Martini and slid it in front of him. Geez, everyone in White Crest always seemed to be having long months. “Drinking is not self care,” he confirmed. “It’s self-distraction. But in moderation that’s not necessarily a fuckin’ bad thing.” Jeff considered a moment, before glancing at the clock. He was almost off and the kid shouldn’t drink alone. “You want shots?” Jeff asked, “I’m drinking after I get off, I’ll do them with you.” 

“Honestly, I used to make fake IDs for those kids back in the day, like when we were in college not high school I’m not completely devoid of responsibility,” Winston had always been good with photoshop and fake IDs weren’t that difficult plus it had paid for the tech that they had needed at the time. “I know the fines and shit are pretty steep, not really worth your time letting some underage teen get drunk when you’re the one who would be in trouble. “Okay, if drinking is self distraction rather then self care, well I definitely need to be distracted,” they nodded, “Fuck yes, I’ll do shots with you. They’re on me, at least like the first three, I’m not made of money unfortunately but I can swing three shots. If you want of course,” Winston wasn’t going to turn down the chance to drink with a hot guy. Besides, he seemed cool. “I’m Winston,” they said sticking their hand out over the bar.

“Trouble maker,” Jeff said. Fake IDs were a big pain in the ass, but at least he could spot a poorly made one a mile away. Someone tried to hand him one with Robert De Niro’s face on it. He almost felt bad the poor kid had wasted money buying the piece of shit. “The fines and shit were pretty awful in Massachusetts, it’s the same here in Maine.” Jeff scowled thinking about it. Of course, his bar in South Boston was packed and rarely full of college students like the ones here were. There was more military personel from the nearby base than students. “This town is fuckin’ wild,” Jeff said. “And I’ve only been here about four months.” Jeff glanced down at Winston’s hand and only hesitated half a second before grabbing it and shaking it. He was in high spirits today, his pheromones were under control. Besides, he wasn’t about to accidentally pheromone some poor fucking kid. “Jeff. Don’t worry about the shots, on the house.” He waved it off before grabbing shot glasses. “Just promise me you’ll do a shot everytime you see me do a shot. Keep up with me.” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t do that anymore and I actually help get a lot of them off of the streets.” Winston at the time had not considered that fake IDs might be used for something other then drinking. “Are you from Massachusetts originally?” Winston asked curiously, “I’ve always just been stuck here, in White Crest. Not that I actually mind.” Winston laughed and raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me that this place is weird? I don’t think that there is a single thing about this place that is at all normal. In fact, I’ve almost died a few too many times because of some of the weird shit going on.” They nodded and took their shot in their hands and looked at it. They didn’t even consider the promise that they were making. “Okay Jeff, I promise that I’ll do a shot everytime I see you do one, please don’t be a super heavy weight drinker.” 

“Former trouble maker then.” And now a narc, so it sounded. Not that Jeff particularly gave a shit, it made his job easier. “Boston born and raised.” He could never imagine growing up in a small town. There were so little people in this town and it was a little disorienting being recognized every time he went to the drug store. Jeff snorted. “This place is fuckin’ weird, I saw a mime creature eat a raccoon. The poor thing.” Jeff grinned though as the kid made the promise. Deirdre did say he should promise bind people, and a little harmless one to help distract the kid from his worries - his deadly worries, apparently - couldn’t hurt. “And to always tip your bartender,” Jeff said seriously, raising his own shot glass before knocking it back.

“Something like that, I just never got caught I guess.” Winston had been a teenager once. They weren’t exactly all that straight laced. They just liked to think of themselves as not stupid. Which was perhaps a little rich, but even still. “Shit, what was Boston like?” Winston asked curiously, they would’ve loved to have experienced life in a ‘big’ city. Wincing at the mention of mimes, Winston hoped that they were truly done for and gone for good. “God, fuck the weird obsession with mimes, they’re so creepy and just not funny at all. That was before they started … eating the wildlife. I just don’t get why they picked mimes y’know?” And cloning and trying to murder everyone. Winston had never really considered tipping their bartender, it was something they did when they remembered it but knowing service staff wages they weren’t sure that it wouldn’t be a bad idea. “Sure, I’ll tip my bartender.” Winston swallowed their own shot in time with Jeff and immediately began coughing, eyes watering from the fiery booze. “Damn, that’s … something.”  

“Boston’s like…” Jeff started, considering a moment. He missed Boston. He missed his friends and his mom. It was better this way though, to stay here and get them away from his uncontrollable pheromones. “A big city with lots of fucking people.” He decided on that breif descriptor, before snorting again at Winston’s description of the mimes. God, he hated them. Ever since that fucking thing had scared his goddamn dog they were on his shitlist. He didn’t even regret having to replace a window from trying to punch the thing. The alcohol burned his throat, but he liked that feeling. Alcohol never bothered him, but he had to keep himself from laughing at poor Winston. “Not a shots fan?” Jeff asked, kindly, swiping up another as he tipped another back. “You get used to the burning, honest.” 

The Whiskey rushed to Winston’s head and swaddled them in a fuzzy feeling that was strangely reassuring. Winston had always liked drinking, but this was almost comforting. Maybe this was why people drank whiskey? Maybe if Winston just didn’t spend the whole time drinking Jack Daniels they’d find out. “Better or worse then our White Crest?” Winston asked with a smirk crossing their face. Jeff was so pretty. Winston normally wouldn’t do shots back to back, but they couldn’t help but feel compelled to knock them back in that moment. They were having a good time and they wanted to at least try and keep up with Jeff. “If you say so, it’s not that I don’t like shots, it’s just that I’m bad at drinking.” Winston wasn’t exactly a party animal. “But I guess you’re going to put that to the test or something like that. Right?” 

Better or worse? Good question. Jeff leaned against the bar, thinking hard for a moment. He wasn't’ sure it was fair to compare the two, not when the hardships he’d faced in both places weren’t necessarily their fault. And that seemed a little too heavy to put on a some twenty-something year old kid. So instead, Jeff said, “Depends on the fuckin’ day.” Jeff was notorious for holding his alcohol, he was a big dude. The rush of whiskey was hardly a problem for him and he grinned. “That’s fucking bullshit - no one’s bad at drinking! There’s no such thing! And I won’t let you get alcohol poisoning kid, don’t worry.” Honestly, it was probably safer for Winston to quit while they were ahead anyway, but still Jeff knocked another back. “What sort of White Crest near-death bullshit are you distracting yourself from tonight?” Jeff asked, curiously. He went to go grab Marty - the Bartender coming up to replace him - to get some water for the both of them. If they were going to get drunk, they would also get hydrated! 

“Wow, I guess I get that.” Winston did not. They had never lived anywhere else and had only left White Crest a few times in their life. Mostly to visit relatives or go on vacation. They had nothing really to compare it to. White Crest was always White Crest irrespective of whether or not it was a Monday or a Thursday. “Well, that is really really reassuring because that was definitely something I had thought of, and absolutely not something I had not considered until you just said it now.” Winston would’ve normally stopped, but why end the fun now. Jeff had promised that he wouldn’t let them get alcohol poisoning and the guy seemed to know what he was doing. Besides, he was a bartender, this was computers for him. Following suit, Winston winced slightly less this time, but they were sure it was still noticeable. “Where to start, some mimes tried to kill me, there’s a woman I’m helping with tech support who might bite me and to make things worse I think I saw a cult attempt a ritual. This place is so fucked.” Maybe they were a bit more drunk then they realised.

Jeff had seen too many college students get alcohol poisoning - he always cut them off before it happened, but somehow they all still fucking drank more. God he hated 21st birthdays more than anything else. But he wouldn’t let Winston get royally fucked over - maybe just enough to cause a headache for the next day. A good reminder to not drink and run away from your problems. Honestly, it was a life lesson that Jeff needed to be reminded about every once in a while. Jeff did, however, pause in his next shot to gape at Winston. He heard a lot of shit from Nic about this kind of thing, but cults and biting tech customers was definitely a new one. “This place is fucked,” Jeff said solemnly. “Fuckin’ Karens trying to kill fairies and squids and shit. And now cults? You should get that creepy tech support customer arrested. Biting isn’t fuckin cool.” And back went another shot. “How you feeling, kid?”

Winston was beyond the point of considering the alcohol that they had consumed. Was it three? Was it four shots? They weren’t above making it five as Jeff reached for another one Winston wasn’t sure if they wanted one but they went for it anyway. They had promised after all. “So fucked, I don’t know how I didn’t see it for so long,” they giggled and shrugged. “I don’t think that police would want to go after her, she’s pretty charming really and so far hasn’t actually tried to bite me, but the threat is ever present. But everything here isn’t the worst, I played truth or dare with some pixies the other day.” Winston was too drunk to really think about what they were saying, normal people didn’t play with pixies. “I’m feeling much better,” they said slapping an arm reassuringly on Jeff’s giant arm. That bicep was really, hard. Swallowing, Winston reached clumsily for their water and sipped it, a little dribbling down their chin for a moment before they wiped it away with the back of their hand and sighed. “I get why you drink whiskey.”

“If she does try to bite you, get that lady locked up, fuck charming. Charm is for losers and people trying to fucking sell you something.” Jeff scoffed, waving it off. Honestly, this woman sounded like a menace to society. But he was more curious about the pixies - weren’t those Fae? He was pretty sure those counted as fae. Deirdre said. “Pixies? You played truth or dare with pixies? Were they nice?” He asked curiously. How come this child was better at finding Fae than he was? He glanced at Winston, and shook off the alcohol that was starting to affect him too. Ah, shit, how many had they had? He slid Winston a napkin, considering as his arm was slapped. He almost jumped off his stool at the unexpected contact, but didn’t. It was fine, he wasn’t even hungry. “Yeah? You think you like it now? How about you watch me just do one more?” Jeff asked.

Winston swallowed more water as their head swam from the whiskey. They were sure that they had drank too much and they weren’t sure why but here they were anyway. “Uh, I think so? They weren’t mean or anything but they weren’t there to make it a super good time, but you know, when you play with pixies you’ve got to be careful about what you say because they’re surprisingly sensitive when it comes to us ‘giant’ people.” Jeff was pretty giant. They took the napkin and stared at it rather than using it to wipe their face before setting it back down unused on the bar and nodding. “Not sure I like it, but it’s strong.” Winston didn’t even consider Jeff’s question. “Fuck yeah, I’ll watch you do another shot. How are you so … not drunk?” 

“Giant people?” Jeff thought about the information a moment. Were pixies small? He knew leprechauns were 2 feet tall. Were they smaller than leprechauns? He’d never met a pixie before. “‘Course you do, you have to be careful what you promise too. Especially to fairies,” Jeff nodded knowingly. “Oh, and don’t call them fairies. Of course I don’t mind, but the real term is fae and others usually fucking mind a lot.” Alcohol always loosened lips, Jefd realized he basically just admitted to being a fairy. Ah fuck. Deirdre awas going to kill him. “One more,” Jeff said, before taking the shot, and reached for his own water. “And then why don’t we get you an uber, kid.”

“Well, you know, they’re like two or three inches tall,” Winston wasn’t sure that was an exact measurement, “but I don’t think they like it when people act as if they’re the ones that are weird. Which is cool, i get it. No one wants to be weird.” Raising an eyebrow, Winston laughed. “Wait, are you a fae or something? I think I knew … most of that, because a fae once accidentally took my name and that was quite the time, but I … you know, I just wondered how you knew all of that.” Winston grinned and watched as Jeff took his shot, their hands moving of their own will, scooping their shot up and knocking it back. “An uber would probably be a good idea, I’m definitely too drunk to drive. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’re a fairy if you don’t tell anyone I can do magic. Seems like a fair trade.” 

“We can take names?” Jeff asked, screwing his face up. What the fuck? How did that work? Wait, no! Stop talking about that thing. Right, yes, he now was in charge of getting the magician kid into an uber. You know, Winston seemed like the kind of kid that would be into stage magic, though Jeff wasn’t quite certain why they would want to hide it. Whatever, kids were so nervous about all sorts of things these days. Well, now that he thought about it, kids were always nervous. God. Jeff shook his head, pulling out his phone to order the kid a car. “Alright alright, fair enough. May the alcohol distract you from fucking cults and fucking biters. Fucking White Crest.” Jeff muttered. “Fucking. White Crest.”

“Yeah, but don’t do it. It’s the worst.” Winston was sure that they never wanted to experience that again. Missing a piece of their identity was something else entirely, a truly unique and truly horrible feeling. Winston sat there, extremely drunk for a moment as Jeff ordered them an uber. “I’ll get you back for the uber for sure, and we should, hang out … more … I mean ag-again.” Winston hiccuped comically. Before stumbling towards the car that had just pulled up. “You’re, like, really cool, Jeff.” 

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating:  T

Chapter Summary:   Luka doesn’t miss XY.  That would be stupid.  For @luxyweek prompt “Eye Contact” (with a little bit of style swap peppered in)

Word Count: 2404 | 3/4

XXX

Luka stared deep into XY’s eyes.  Well, the photograph’s eyes, from the back of the CD he held in his hands.  Of course he couldn’t escape the pop star here, in the middle of his favorite music store.  But he hadn’t needed to go directly to the end of the aisle and pick up the Number One album.

Ironic.  He said he couldn’t escape him, yet XY hadn’t crashed the Liberty in a week.  Since the sleepover at Nino’s house.  Had he just gotten his inspiration and left?

He’d kept Luka’s hoodie.  Luka had forgotten to demand it back when XY had woken up and rushed out of the apartment, yelping something about his dad.

“You owe me,” Luka said to the album.  XY’s melody had been beating under Luka’s skin for the last seven days.  “You can’t just take my favorite hoodie and disappear.”

Luka didn’t even have his phone number.  It was a stupid oversight, but he wasn’t used to having his own friends.  If he needed a number, he usually asked Juleka.

Nino said he hadn’t come back, which was strange.  XY always wanted attention; Luka had figured that if he wasn’t trying to leap onto the Liberty, he’d be at the other boy’s apartment.  What had happened to his original song?  Had he given up on it?

Had he actually stolen Nino’s music instead, like Luka had feared?  Was the guilt keeping him away?  Or did he just decide he had better things to do?  

Maybe he’d even left Paris by now.  He’d never mentioned how long he’d be staying.

Luka shook his head.  He didn’t know, and staring at XY’s Number One album wasn’t going to give him any answers.

His eyes glanced down to the price tag.  Not too expensive, but he still wouldn’t pay for it.  XY had probably stolen all those songs.  It would be wrong to give him and Bob Roth money for it.

So when he got home, he cracked open his laptop and pirated the album.

A few of the songs he recognized, probably from supermarket speakers or TV commercials.  Most were unfamiliar though, except in how they mimicked each other.  It was like XY only had one setting: repetitive pop beats.  His tracks barely even had lyrics to differentiate them from each other.  Along the Beach with You had the addition of waves and seagull calls.  Urban Night was so autotuned he could barely make out the words.  Was that even XY’s voice?  It didn’t sound nasally enough.

Luka was just about to give up listening to the album when I Miss You started.  Soft, not as energetic as the other tracks.  He strained to hear the words.

I’m going crazy for you

I’m lost, where can I find you?

You’ve got my heart torn in two

Please, I just miss you

Nothing unique.  Lazy, even; he used “you” in three of the four rhymes.  

Luka hated that it sparked something in him, something that his guitar still hadn’t been able to untangle.

His own music wasn’t helping.  XY’s music wasn’t helping.  Staring at his face wasn’t helping.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he sighed as he strapped his guitar across his back.

Then he crept above deck, rolled out his bike, and pedaled off towards the Grand Paris Hotel.

XXX

XY paced across his hotel room as the song was exporting, the loading bar slowly, slowly filling up.  Why did it take so long?  Making the song had already taken way more time than he expected.  He hadn’t gotten to see Lu in days.  What if Lu forgot all about him?  A few times he’d thought about going back to that dumpster boat, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist bragging about his new song, and it needed to be a surprise.

He told Lu he was gonna make the most cash money music he’d ever heard.  He hoped this track would be good enough.  It probably wasn’t Lu’s style, but Marmalade hadn’t looked like she was his style either, and he liked her.  He’d thrown a couple of her sewing machine noises into the track for good measure.

“Come on, stupid computer,” he muttered.

The door burst open just as he was thumping the monitor.  His arms pinwheeled before he caught himself on the desk.

“Oh, uh, hey Dad.”  He grinned too wide.  “What brings you here?”

“What?  I can’t see what my own son is up to?”  He laughed loudly, making XY cringe.  “I thought you were out with Andre’s girl again.  You’re too young to be holed up in here.”

XY tried not to groan at the mention of Cole.  She’d already tried to break into his room three times today.  He’d pulled up Lu’s hood and hidden under the legs of his synth each time.  Luckily he’d taken it off while pacing, not wanting to sweat too much in it, or else Dad might’ve asked why he was wearing something so ratty looking.

“I’m just trying to catch up on my music, Dad.”  He rolled his eyes.  

“Ha!  Searching for new tracks to steal?  Proactive of you, I like it.  You’re starting to think like a real star.”

XY’s stomach turned as his dad slung an arm around his shoulder.  He shrugged him off.

He almost told him what he was really doing, but the words dried up in his mouth.  Maybe Lu could spout whatever hippie crap came into his head, but XY couldn’t afford to.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered instead.

“Looks like whatever you were downloading finished.  Let’s hear it.”  Dad plopped down into the cushy chair in front of his synth, leaving XY to stand.

“Uh—I dunno, Dad.  It’s not—it’s nothing great, y’know?”

He snorted.  “Look, if you’re gonna steal, you gotta go big or go home.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Let’s just hear it.  I’ll tell you what’s worth ripping off.”  He folded his hands on the desk and waited.

XY didn��t let his nervousness show.  He was a star.  He didn’t get stage fright—okay, usually he wasn’t even on the stage, but still.  

Lu wasn’t scared of standing up to Bob Roth.  The least XY could do was play his own music.

He opened the exported audio file and hit play.

Smooth electronic beats came from the speakers.  Bubbly, upbeat, with an undercurrent of bass.  So far it didn’t sound much different from XY’s old music, the kind he’d made before Dad convinced him to steal instead.

Dad’s eyes narrowed, as if he realized this, but he didn’t say anything yet.  Didn’t say anything for the entire song, even when he heard XY’s lyrics.

Please ignore the lyrics please ignore the lyrics—

His face looked like he'd eaten something nasty.  Like pasta.  “You’ve gotta stop stealing songs from girls, son.  The pronouns are all wrong.”

“Uh, oops.  Forgot to change it.”  His heart fell.  Dad knew why his lyrics were like that, but he wouldn’t even say it out loud.  He’d been stupid to let him hear the song, not that he’d had a choice.  He would’ve finished it at Nino’s if the boy didn’t have to do dumb stuff like “go to school” and “do homework.”

“It’ll never be at the top of the charts, but you can use it to fill up space on your next album, I guess.  You always need a few songs no one will actually listen to.”

XY bit his tongue.  “Pshaw, yeah.  That’s exactly what I stole it for.”

“Keep working, but pick a more mainstream beat next time.  And on second thought, just scrap those lyrics.  They’re clearly ameteur work.  Who puts pigeons in a love song?”

Dad clapped him on the shoulder one last time before turning away, leaving XY numb.

You always need a few songs no one will actually listen to.

Just scrap those lyrics.

Clearly ameteur work...

The extraordinary XY did not cry.  But he might have sniffled a little.

“What are you doing here?  Scram!  I told you, we were just kidding about the record deal!”

XY jolted up, dashing for the door.  He peeked past his dad’s looming figure to see— 

“Lu!”  He grinned before he could help himself.

Lu was standing there, holding a flat cardboard box.  His muscles showed beneath the short sleeves of his Jagged Stone t-shirt.  The best part of stealing his hoodie was that XY got to see his arms.  If only it didn’t also show off his number one rival’s merch.

“What?  Xavier-Yves, did you invite this punk—”

“He ordered a pizza.”  Lu wiggled the box. 

XY frowned.  “Huh?  I didn’t—”

Lu’s eyes narrowed.

“Ohhhh, that pizza!  Pshaw, right.”

Dad still glared down at Lu.  “You better not try any funny business.  Or I’ll have my lawyers on you faster than that pizza grease sticks to your hair.”

Lu smiled pleasantly, a dangerous (and sexy) gleam in his eyes.  “Of course not.  I’m just trying to do my job, sir.”

Dang, he was smart.  And brave.  And hot.

XY tried very hard not to swoon.

“I’ve got to—uh—money!  Cash money.  I owe you.  For the pizza.”

“Well go grab it so this little snake can get out of here,” Dad said with a dismissive wave.

“Lu—uh, he can come in for a minute, right?  It would be pretty unsexy of us to leave him out in the cold.”

“We’re in a hotel, and he’s not some street orphan.”  Dad scrunched his nose.  “Even if he smells like one.”

XY thought Luka smelled amazing, but he wouldn’t admit it in front of Dad.  “Huh?  I can’t hear you, I’m busy thinking about how I’m gonna cheat him out of a tip.”

That made Dad laugh.  “Classic Xavier.  Ruthless instincts, but not that bright.”

With that, he whistled his way out of the room, leaving XY alone with Lu.  

His heart sped up.  Lu was in his room.  Even if he was just there because XY had ordered a pizza.

Wait.  He hadn’t ordered a pizza.

“Did your dad just—did he really just say that?  That was just… wrong.”  Lu glared at the space where Dad had been standing.

“Awww, you care?”  XY asked, leaning into his space.  He smelled like wood and water, probably from spending so much time on that garbage boat.  Or maybe it was just his cologne, but the first option sounded more romantic.

“No,” he snapped.  Huh, he looked a lot more tense now than he’d been even with Dad.

“What’s up, bro?  Marmalade break your heart again?”  he asked hopefully.  

Lu blinked.  He had gorgeous eyes, but he could really use some mascara.  Or at least eyeliner.  XY thought rockers were supposed to be into that kind of stuff.

“Also no.  I just… shut up and give me your phone.”

“Huh?”  His head tilted, but he dug his phone out of his pocket.

Lu grabbed it out of his palm before realizing it was locked.  He sighed.  “Will you open it?  Please?”

“Sure, ’cause you asked nicely.”  XY grinned and swiped his thumb in the “XY” pattern, then tossed it back.  Where this was going?  Was Lu going to take a selfie and set it as his home screen?  That would save XY the trouble of sneaking a photo himself.

Lu set the phone on top of the pizza box, typed furiously for a few seconds, and handed it back.  

XY blinked down at the screen.  Ohhhh, this was even better!  

“You know if you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask.”  XY pursed his lips, but resisted kissing Lu’s cheek again.

“I had no idea what happened to you.  You might’ve left Paris, or… something.”  He crossed his arms.

“So you did miss me.”  His heart raced, though he kept his cool.  He was XY, and Lu was just… the cutest boy he’d ever met.  Who’d missed him.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t take Nino’s music and run after all.”

“Pshaw, like I need his beats.  I told you I was gonna make cash money music by myself this time.”  XY rolled his eyes.  He thought Lu believed in him.  

Not that he should.  His music wasn’t good.  Dad didn’t think so, anyway.

“Did you finish it?”  Lu’s eyes widened.  “The song you were making at Nino’s?”

His eyes darted towards his synth and computer.  “Uh… nah, man.  I’ve just been… y’know, kickin’ back.  I can’t stay in your unsexy garbage heap all the time.”

“Just… kickin’ back.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Lying to Lu felt wrong.  Not like lying to his dad, or even to the paparazzi.  But he wasn’t about to admit that his song had crashed and burned.

And he’d really thought he understood perspiration this time, too.

“I guess I just thought you liked kickin’ back with me,” Lu murmured.

XY’s gut twisted, like he’d eaten a bad plate of mac ’n’ cheese.  “Pshaw, as if.  I was just getting away from Cole, remember?  You were the one who dragged me everywhere.  I didn’t even need your dumb inspiration.  I’m the extraordinary XY.”

He flashed his trademarked hand sign, but really he wanted to slap himself.  Even if it felt wrong, he was good at lying.  Too good.

Hurt flashed across Lu’s face for just a moment.  Then it was gone, and he was shoving the pizza box into XY’s hands.

“Thanks for getting us on the same page.”

Crap, crap, crap.  He wasn’t supposed to make Luka mad.  

“Wait, bruh,” XY called out as Luka stepped out of the room.  “I still didn’t pay you for the pizza!”

Luka rolled his eyes.  “What, you’re not going to cheat me out of that, too?”

XY chewed his lip and looked down at his feet.  He’d never been so embarrassed about cheating before.

“Forget it.  I don’t need money you made by ripping people off, anyway.”

And then Luka was gone, leaving XY with a warm pizza in his arms.  He opened the box, but the smell of fresh cheese just made him nauseous.  The last time he’d eaten a cheese pizza was with him.

Luka was the first person to believe in him, and he’d let him down.  He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised.  It was Luka’s own fault for expecting something more.

He left the pizza by his synth, where it slowly grew cold.

[viktcrr-alt]

MAXENCE DANET FAUVAL / NONBINARY — don’t look now, but is that viktor samuels i see? the 24 year old visual arts student is in their senior year and he/they are a rochester alum. i hear they can be observant, ingenious, reticent and dependent, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he/they will make a name for themselves living in garcia row. ( james. 20. est. she/they. )

LAST INTRO WOOOO !! u know what to mf DO !!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

pinterest

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

has been back since the beginning of fall semester in an attempt to finish his senior year - mostly out of his parents’ insistence that he did, because he very much did not want to. 

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, which was only amplified with dean lockwood’s death - causing him to spiral and be unpredictable with his mental health. some days are good, and some days are very bad.

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

[viktcrr-archive]

MAXENCE DANET FAUVEL / NONBINARY. — viktor samuels is really making a name for themselves as a tier 3 shepherd. i think that he/they are studying english + visual arts in their senior year at lockwood, living in peregrinis. originally from rochester, new york, viktor is known to be observant & ingenious, but can also be reticent & dependent. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

3/5 !!! once again ... little edits

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

a e s t h e t i c s

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts.

general info !!

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′0″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: uuuhhh god … probably pan tbh

pinterest

stats

biography !!

okay so … born and raised in rochester, new york to the well known samuels family. preacher father, a mother, a twin sister born 15 minutes before him - aka tatiana samuels, who died back in january.

kinda … grew up as a really awkward, quiet kid? like … just didn’t really interact with other kids super well, preferred being alone and like … digging up bugs in the dirt. only friend was like … his own sister.

grew out of this as they got older, instead sort of … becoming a bit of a dick? to compensate for years of awkwardness? will bite the hand that feeds him. was a full on nuisance by middle school. tatiana was not, at least, noticeably.

has always been a fan of darker materials, y’know - grim and creepy, morbid shit. big fan of tim burton ever since he was a kid, which isn’t … a good look for a preacher’s son, but he’s never really felt ~in~ with the rest of his family, anyway.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid probably tbh that prompted one or two or five phone calls home 2 assure everything was fine.

has always been really … good at art, in general - from drawing to painting to playing with clay, that’s always been viktor’s Thing.

aNyWaYs. being tatiana’s twin brother was kinda hard sometimes. tatiana and him were near opposites besides their same mean-spirited trait. she was better in the public than he was, but viktor was arguably more talented than tatiana. they both loved each other deeply and found each other as competition for their parents’ attention - a rivalry, of sorts.

high school is when viktor really started to act out - started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service. almost had an exorcism performed on him, probably.

the only redeemable trait was like … his sheer talent with art. was in a 3d art AP course, specialized in sculpting - could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because his parents would be focused on disciplining him for his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with stuff easier. so like, y’know, that’s on the bright-side of things.

never been particularly motivated to do much - wasn’t planning on attending lockwood but his parents kinda … did and sent in his application for him b/c they were Not on board with him Wasting Away (wanted him out of the house asap)

actually pretty smart !! just doesn’t like … want to apply himself ever. double majoring in english and visual arts because they’re like … two of his only interests :/ plus he wants to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s

he’d been experimenting since high school but college is where he really started to like … crack down on himself and figure himself out. was out as pan & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college, just … not to his family, necessarily. thinks tatiana always knew, but didn’t … really use it against him, blessedly enough

always felt like the whole twin - connection thing was … both wack and also not-wack? sometimes it felt believable but sometimes he had no idea what was going on in tatiana’s head. but he felt oddly transparent to her, always - like he was predictable to no one but her.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

but when tatiana disappeared - it was like, like viktor knew. the moment she had been kidnapped - felt something deeply wrong in his gut. and when tatiana died - viktor felt something cut so severely in him. he knew, he always knew exactly when. he couldn’t put his finger on how - but he knew. even when everybody else held out hope for her to be found - he knew.

went on a bender around the same time, had always struggled w/ drug addiction but it got worse the longer tatiana went without being found.

( also struggled heavily with his mental health, too ?? has manic and depressive episodes. will fixate on a sculpting project for six months and then purposely knock it off the table and destroy it in the matter of seconds once it’s finished for. no fucking reason. impulse spends A Lot. )

when her body was found, viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing and being hospitalized where he spent the next like … however long months … until they deemed him better.

stayed out of school until very recently b/c he just … didn’t want to go back. didn’t want to deal with it. didn’t want to be known as the dead girl’s twin. but then his mom kinda just was like ‘u go back 2 school or god so help me’ n he was like FINE.

so ya !! viktor’s back after being gone since tatiana’s body was found. that’s it, that’s him, a lil glimpse of his life.

trying to finish his senior year b/c he … obviously left before he could.

finding out that it was george who killed tatiana has ultimately ... caused viktor to spiral. his lows are some of his lowest, his highs are ... very high, but very bad. unstable & unpredictable in his actions it’s ... a whole thing :/

personality !!

the human embodiment of a gremlin, fed after midnight. a goblin, if u will. one of those cats with a narrow head and big ass ears. that’s him.

b i g horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies. probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than he should. love those vertically striped pants!

fashion alternates between e-boy (would b tik tok famous if he were like … 17), millennial beetlejuice, and like … goth in a crop top and sweatpants. big fan of crop tops. big fan of sweatpants.

he can be fucking mean. petty, aggressive, instigator. will literally spit in ur face or no reason. kind of person who’ll stick his gum into other ppl’s hair. other than that he’s like … pretty okay. he’s not always mean, he’s just a dick like … 70% of the time lmao

i mean yeah okay he’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except He Feels Like It And Believes It. it’s fine he’s fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact tht he’s probably getting into fights whenever - considers himself 2 be a lover n not a fighter but that’s just because he Fucks a lot. kind of uses it like a coping mechanism, like he’s this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ may have a problem w/ hypersexuality but it’s nothing he’s fully. aware of.

the preacher’s whore son, basically

like i said he’s pan & nb, switches between he and they pronouns but like … he has such a fragile grip on his identity that u could call him ‘dog-faced bitch’ and he’d turn like hey wassup :)

vastly impulsive, like i’ve mentioned … destroys his own creations 4 the fun of it, spends all his money on useless shit, will cheat on someone bc he feels like it. screams into the night sky frequently, like a cat in heat.

i mean he also creates useless shit for no reason too. spent six months sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of him and then took a sledgehammer to it.

dramatic fuck. used to play the organ at the church like … when no one was looking after him and service was about to start. just these creepy as melodies. would do the same thing at home on his keyboard w/ the organ setting whenever he got grounded until his parents took away his keyboard sadjfkg

won’t talk about his time away b/c it’s not rly anybody’s business but ofc nothing is sacred to the watershed app, y’know, nothing’s private.

still like - he absolutely refuses to talk about tatiana’s death and like, his mental health or his addiction (he’s fallen back into it tbh but it hasn’t gotten bad again … yet) or like … anything involving his own emotions

will literally just change the topic! abruptly, no warning, asks about the jonas brothers instead.

that being said he’s obsessed with tatiana’s death. tatiana was very much a rock for him, kinda dependent on her in a way? just … being there, y’know, kept him grounded.

so he obv became a shepherd bc he wants to know Everything there is abt the app, wants to be deep inside it, wanted to know Who Exactly Killed Tatiana and like … not saying he wants 2 commit murder but :/ yknow. he’s very upset.

emotionally unavailable while also like crying twice a day.

will tell you straight up what he wants from you, no bullshit, no beating around the bush - just blunt. if he wants to just fuck, nothing else, then that’s that. if he feels deviation he’ll ghost in like. less than a second. kinda awful like that! feels no shame.

but like … also is emotional ?? as shit ?? it’s confusing. he’ll cry on a whim and then flip u off if u try to console him or like. ask him anything. will bite you.

he goes to therapy but he generally fucks around and wastes most of the time until the therapist threatens to like … idk what therapists r allowed to threaten. to send him off to another therapist? idk.

likes being intimidating but like … not with his body or nothing ‘cos he’s a TWIG, but like … uses his love for horror n creepy shit to his advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before.

( also a big fan of sfx makeup, has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids with a chainsaw (w/o the like … chain … or w/e … so it’s not actually Dangerous) around halloween

he’s generally never doing good, both mental health wise and morally.

would probably steal candy from a baby for the fun of it.

i don’t know if there’s a good to him, deep down, and i don’t know if he sees any issues with himself either !! nothing really breaks through to him anymore, the only person who ever really made him stop and Think about his actions was tatiana.

kinda introverted, recluse type who doesn’t rly like most people or going out, but he’ll go to parties if it means he’ll be high as shit.

pretty observant. likes to analyze people even though he’s probably not … fully right.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / his twin sister, other half - the only one able to control viktor.

george craig iii / close family friends ... they could appreciate each other, when viktor wasn’t being an outright asshole.

hana williams / ‘friends’ with benefits, their relationship was rocky at best but she was a good lay. have often fought due to their clash in personalities and viktor’s history with christoph.

christoph wainwright / an ex-hook up, an infrequent occasion whenever christoph wanted to tick off hana. viktor was often on board, never the one to consider others’ feelings.

wanted connections !!

he lives alone currently but like … ex - roommates where viktor was just. a nightmare to live with.

feel like a lot of enemies is also a possibility !! viktor’s messy.

people that like … knew tatiana. dated tatiana, even, and viktor would pretty much try to intimidate / scare them at any given chance :/

close friends of tatiana too

people who hated tatiana but liked viktor. people who hated viktor but liked tatiana

people who take pity on him and he Hates it viciously and vocally.

a band of hooligan gremlin kids who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers even though they’re all early to mid 20s.

the girl he lost his virginity 2 in high school lmao … a distant memory

fellow rochester locals, from church or school or whatever

exes from the past !! good terms and bad terms, but i love bad terms a whole lot mainly b/c viktor’s a jackass.

don’t know if he’s soft towards anybody but we can try. we can Try.

friends, old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. etc. all of it

hookups !! so many hookups. fwbs, one night stands, whatever.

uuhhhh god. i don’t know. im so sleepy rn. people in the same major or similar majors.

maybe a ride or die.

people he’s a bad influence on / an enabler towards / all around toxic for them / each other.

people he’s fought !! people who’ve seen him get into random fights and were like ‘uh wtf’

fellow shepherds !!

literally anything im not picky.

[ddaddsprompts]

Okay forgive me, cause idk how to exactly word this, but the (Dad)'s reactibg ro Dadsona and their kids playing around or having genuine fun with each other. (Also love your blog, look forward to seeing you guys post more!)

Craig; ‘So, uh, just a little warning, I’m not the most athletic guy, kids.’ You nervously chucked as Briar and Hazel hopped out of the car, getting ready to jog their hearts out. ‘If you see me panting and looking like I’m about to die, just give me a few minutes. Or hours.’ Craig had decided to bring you, Hazel and Briar along for his (and River’s) weekend run. Of course, the twins jumped up to the chance and practically teleported into the car when he announced this, but you, being the sleepy father that you were, had to be piggybacked all the way to the car. And even then, you were still hesitant about going out for a jog. Your legs weren’t being particularly good to you recently, but you decided to push on for the girls’ and Craig’s sake. Hazel grinned at you as she stretched out. ‘Don’t worry, Y/N. I have 911 on speed dial and Briar knows first aid. If that doesn’t work we can always splash pond water on your face to wake you up.’ ‘Hazel!’ Briar shook her head at her twin and turned to you. ‘She’s joking, Y/N. She wouldn’t throw pond water on anybody-’ Just as she spoke, Hazel had cupped a handful of pond water and splashed it on her twin’s body, making her gasp. ‘Oh my God! You are so in for it now, Hazel!’ Just like that, the twins ran off into the distance, disappearing behind a set of playground equipment. Craig chuckled and said he’d go after them before jogging off with River strapped to his chest. You settled for a bit of jogging yourself, trying to catch up to his pace, but you fell behind and just settled for sitting down on a bench when you felt a presence hiding behind the bench. When you turned around, you spotted Hazel crouching behind the bench, trying to keep in her giggles. ‘Shh, Briar’s on the lookout. Pretend I’m not here!’ Just then, Hazel came out from the woods, looking around in search for her troublesome sister. She found you hanging around and walked over to you. ‘Hey Y/N, have you seen Briar anywhere?’ Well aware that Briar was right behind you, you decided to mask her location. ‘I think I saw her somewhere in the… playground?’ Unfortunately, just as Hazel turned to head off to the playground, Briar was unable to contain her laughter and burst out into a fit of giggles that caught Hazel’s attention, running over to her sister and rubbing the top of her head. ‘There you are, you jerk! You got my clothes soaked!’ The girl scolded as her twin laughed without a care. You slowly stood up, trying not to disturb them when Hazel faced you with a mischievous grin. ‘Oh, don’t think I’m done with you, Y/N! You’re in on this, too!’ She pounced on you as your weak father legs failed to get away quick enough, making you lie on the ground as Hazel sat on your back. ‘Drop and give me 10, soldier!’ She jokingly ordered. Briar joined in too, hopping on your back. You felt their combined weight nearly crush you, but you pushed on for their enjoyment. ‘O-One, two…’ You heaved, feeling your lungs begin to cramp up as the twins laughed from on top of you. ‘T-Three…’ Out of nowhere, Craig jogged up to you three, smiling as he watched you struggling to continue the pushups. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling at you spending time with the kids or at your inability to do pushups with two adolescents on your backside. Either way, he pursued you until you (barely) finished the push-ups and collapsed on the park ground, drained out. The twins hopped off you and helped you up. ‘You did great, Y/N! I’m surprised, considering Hazel weighs like a cow.’ Briar teased, to which Hazel replied by sticking out her tongue playfully. ‘I think Y/N’s a little tired, why don’t you girls get some ice cream over there?’ Craig pointed over to an ice cream truck nearby and handed money to the twins, who sped off at the speed of light. Did these kids ever get tired? He helped you onto the bench, handing you his water bottle. ‘Bro, you and the girls get along really well, and I’m really glad you do. The twins haven’t been the best since the divorce and all, so it’s really cool that they’ve warmed up to you.’ As you fell back on the bench, River burbled on Craig’s chest, smiling at you. You made funny faces resulting in her laughter. Craig put his arm around you. ‘Oh, and River, of course.’Hugo; Being in a relationship with a middle/high school teacher had it’s pros and cons. Mostly cons, one of them being him becoming too busy with checking the students’ quiz papers that he had to postpone his long-awaited night stroll with you that evening.  ‘I’m sorry, honey. I’ll make it up to you soon, alright?’ Hugo meekly apologized, giving you a brief kiss before settling down at his desk. Knowing him, he would hardly leave unless he needed food, water, the toilet, or he was hit by a sudden realization that this was his life and needed moral support from his loving boyfriend. The point was, Hugo sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving his desk until he was finished, which left you to humor yourself for the night. You decided to go the easy route and head downstairs, plopping on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn for a trashy romcom movie fest. Switching through the channels, you settled on a particularly trashy one which had been running for about 5 minutes. Yet, you could already tell this movie was going to be cheesily awful, so you buckled down and let your eyes glaze over the screen. It was around the twenty-minute mark that you heard the door open, hearing Ernest’s familiar groan and the dragging of his backpack across the floor. But instead of going straight to his room, he stopped behind the sofa. You looked up to see the teen squinting at the television. ‘Is that… Two Loves, One Stone?’You raised an eyebrow, caring less about the movie title and more about Ernest being invested into garbage low budget romantic comedies. ‘Uhh, yes?’ Instead of shrugging it off and calling you a weirdo, he motioned you to scoot over so he could sit on the couch. He welcomed his hand into the bowl of popcorn and stared intensely at the screen. Was Ernest really into this stuff? You wanted to ask about this, but the young man looked so invested into the movie that you refused to disturb him and ate your popcorn in peace. Neither of you spoke until Ernest began sobbing. ‘E-Ernest? What’s-’  Ernest pointed at the screen, smiling as he wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Victor finally woke up from his coma and confessed his love for Sarah, look! Sarah’s waited four years for this, and it’s just so, so, beautiful…’  As he went back to his happy crying, you awkwardly patted his back, even offering a piece of tissue which he silently accepted and blew his nose into. You felt a presence behind both of you and was met by Hugo leaning against a wall, looking as if he was going to cry from joy himself. You giggled from his dopey smile along with his watery eyes before turning back to Ernest. After the movie, Ernest retired to his room, muttering a good night to his father and slamming the door behind him. But Hugo couldn’t care less about his son’s attitude and practically crushed you into a hug, tears rolling down his cheeks as his glasses went askew.  ‘My son! My boyfriend! Bonding over a movie!’ He cried in joy and buried his head into your shoulder. ‘It was beautiful indeed…’Robert; There were three things that Robert loved the most; his boyfriend, his daughter, and whittling. So when he drove you and Val to the hill overlooking the city for some nice bonding time, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he handed Val a knife and a stick. She looked at the two items, a little confused. ‘Pops, it’s either you want me to carve this stick or you’re going to drag us into the woods to stab a cryptid you tied up, harvest its blood and sacrifice it to the Mothman.’ Robert’s face turned dark. ‘I’ve raised you well, Val. C’mon, we only have till daybreak to sacrifice the spider-eyed lamb before it escapes my traps and reaps our souls and the souls of the innocent. The stick must be buried deep into the lamb’s heart, to make sure that it shall never rise to harm anybody again. The Mothman shall be pleased.’  You stared at the father and daughter, staring at each other so seriously before collapsing in a fit of giggles. A true father and daughter pair. ‘Not sure if you remember, but I used to whittle a lot when you were a kid. Made you a little wooden dog around preschool.’ He grinned and started to peel with the grain. ‘You took it everywhere, y’know? You even named it.’ ‘Sheesh, I’m 24 and you still remind me of Maxine The Great Wooden Dog? You’re a true father.’ Val rolled her eyes jokingly. ‘Surprisingly, I do remember you whittling, but I still have no idea how you do it.’ Seeing Robert go into his own whittling world, you decided to explain it to Val yourself. ‘It’s kinda like peeling a potato, but you’re also trying to shape it so I guess it’s like shaping potatoes if that’s a thing. Don’t cut against the grain, it’s gonna splinter and ruin everything. Try cutting with it.’ You demonstrated, slicing the bark of the stick with ease. She tried to mimic you but felt a bit disabled due to her long nails. It wasn’t long until she accidentally cut herself. ‘Ah, shit.’ Val muttered, spotting red blood roll down her thumb. Robert snapped out of his whittling world and approached her, wrapping a bandana around her finger as you ran to the car to get the first aid kit. You returned with the box in hand and had her lean over the fence. ‘This might hurt a bit.’ You warned as you swiped the blood away and dabbed a bit of antibiotic ointment onto the cut. Sealing off the area with a band-aid, you rubbed her back as she pushed herself off the fence. ‘You alright?’ ‘Yeah. Thanks, Y/N.’ ‘Don’t worry, I got cut on the first time I did it, too. Your father was there and he patched me right up, didn’t you, Robert?’ You turned to Robert, who simply nodded and smiled at his stick. What was he so happy about? On the drive home, Robert nudged you after dropping her off at her hotel room. ‘Hey, thanks for looking out for Val.’ ‘Robert, it was just a cut-’ ‘No, no,’ He chuckled. ‘My girl’s a tough one, she can definitely handle a little cut. What I mean is that you were really into teaching her, even going so far as to help her out when she got cut. We should go to the lookout with her again soon.’Joseph; The kids, albeit were a little creepy, they seemed like they wouldn’t murder you in your sleep as your relationship with Joseph progressed. You baked with them, brought them to the park and even drove them to school. Of course, there were times that the twins stared at you in silence with similar grins or Chris’s soft chuckles seemed a bit darker rather than brighter, but Joseph assured you that the kids were all sweethearts.  The six of you decided to spend the afternoon baking sweets for the bake sale the following Saturday. You had to admit, it was nice spending time with the kids. Christie made shapes of the cookie dough, Christian mixed the brownie batter and Chris frosted the cupcakes with his father. Chrish was too young to help out, but he burbled happily in his high chair as if he were commanding you. You looked over Christopher, who’s arm looked sore from mixing the batter. ‘Hey, Christopher. I’ll stir it.’ You offered and he handed the bowl over to you. He looked bored and unwilling to be there, wanting to just finish the brownies and crawl off with his games. As you stirred the mix, he yawned and rested his cheek against his hand, obviously dulled to seemingly no end. Once you finished mixing, Crish had suddenly began sobbing in his high chair. Joseph turned around immediately. ‘Oh, jeez. He might be teething again…’ The man rushed over to see what the baby had been fussing about. Before you could turn back around to continue your business, you saw Christian with a handful of flour gripped into a fist, a mischevious grin on his face as he aimed for his father. You knew what had to be done. You dove in front of Joseph just as the flour flew at him, earning you flour dust all over your shirt. Chrish had stopped sobbing and laughed at your misfortune as Joseph realized what was happening. ‘No! My plan to vanquish the Spider King has been tainted!’ Cristopher cried out and reached for another fistful of flour. ‘Nevermind that. Squire! Help me conquer the evil Spider King and his valiant!’ Christie’s eyes lit up as she got involved in this game, withdrawing the harmless cookie cutter and pointing it at your and Joseph’s direction. ‘Back, ye foul creatures!’ ‘Hark! What shall we do, Y/N The Valiant? The Mage of Brownies and his rogue alchemist of cookies wish to defeat us!’ Joseph gasped. You put on a faux brave face and handed him a mixing spoon while also grabbing a spoon of your own. ‘Nay, Spider King. I shall battle these foes to my deathbed!’ You joked and pointed your spoon at Christie’s cookie cutter. ‘En guarde!’ As you and Christie fake battled with a cookie cutter and a plastic mixing spoon, Joseph shielded himself from the flour dust with a frying pan. Of course, this didn’t cover his entire body and he ended up getting flour everywhere. This resulted in Joseph throwing flour onto Christopher and Chris, who cried out gleefully and got into a flour dust war with their father. You and Christie noticed this and ran to your respective sides, you with Joseph and Christie with her siblings. The kitchen was an all-out war area, each side throwing flour to the other. However, the most dreadful of all situations happened; you and Joseph had run out of flour. You raised your mixing spoon as a surrendering gesture to the children. ‘Turn out! We surrender to your unworldly grasp, Mage of Brownies!’ This only pleased the children more, however, as Chris threw a final blow of flour at you. You gasped and made yourself fall back, collapsing against the counter as you pretended to die and grasped Joseph’s sleeve. ‘Farewell, my friend. I shall always be with you in spirit…’ You whispered in an exaggerated dying tone. The children laughed and walked over to you, helping you up as best as they could. ‘Well, that was fun. Have fun cleaning up!’ Chris exclaimed as the three of them bolted out of the kitchen, grins on their faces.

‘Scramble, foul beasts! Let it be known that the kingdom of Spider King and Y/N the Valiant shall rage on!’ Joseph called out to them, chuckling as he turned to you. ‘Well that was quite interesting, wasn’t it?’

 You attempted to dust the flour dust off of your pants. ‘As much as I love the kids, Joseph, I’d rather not be covered in flour from head to toe, thanks. It was fun, though.’ Joseph laughed and kissed your forehead. ‘Seems like the kids have warmed up to you. It’s so pleasing to see the five people in my life get along together so well.’  You and Joseph sat there in happy silence, Crish burbling contently in the background on his high chair. 

Damien; You knew Lucien was a good kid, underneath his rebellious ways and spikey hair. He seemed nice towards you, not giving you as much attitude as he did when you first met. To be honest, you were alright with him. But as you felt a need to be closer to him, you decided to make a little treat for him.

 While Damien was enjoying some alone time in his study, you let yourself into the kitchen to start with your little treat. Lucien had mentioned to you once that he was a vegetarian, unable to handle the thought of an animal being killed whenever he took a bite of his meal. Therefore, you began making the old pie recipe that Amanda loved so much, replacing the regular butter with vegan butter, of course. You stirred the mixture together and placed it into the oven, wondering if Lucien would enjoy it or if he’d just scoff and throw it onto your face. Once the pie was done, you let it cool for a bit before heading upstairs to Lucien’s bedroom and knocking on the door. The teen pulled the door open as soon as you knocked. ‘What is it?’ You cleared your voice and tried to muster up what little courage you had to speak with the edgy teen. ‘Hey, Lucien. You hungry? I made something that I think you’ll enjoy…’ Lucien raised an eyebrow but followed you downstairs. You knew you got him once he sniffed the air. ‘Is that pie?’ You led him towards the sitting room where the steaming pie awaited both of you, accompanied with finger foods and some almond milk. Lucien excitedly sat down on one of the chairs as you sliced him a piece of the pie. His eyes widened once he took a bite. ‘This is…actually pretty good. Never knew you were into baking, Y/N.’ He mumbled in between bites. You practically glowed with pride. ‘Thanks, Lucien.’ As you both enjoyed your meal, you saw a flash of raven hair disappear behind a corner, then two familiar magenta contact eyes peer out. Lucien finished around three pieces, muttering a thank you and heading back upstairs. You stood up, getting ready to clear out the table when you felt two arms wrapped around your waist. ‘I’ve never seen Lucien so happy with somebody who wasn’t causing trouble.’ Damien smiled and placed his head on your shoulder. ‘Have you cast some sort of spell on him?’ ‘Well, who knows? I might have placed some potion into the pie that makes me inexplicably easy to get along with.’ You joked. He laughed and sat down. ‘In all seriousness, it brings me joy that you’re getting along well with Lucien.’ He sighed. ‘Now, shall we have some more pie?’Mat; Carmensita was relatively nice to you, giving you all the respect you deserved and even joking around with you the same way you joked around with Amanda while she was still around. Your car rides going to school consisted of you and Carmensita singing along to the songs on the radio, Carmensita mostly as you hummed along to the familiar tunes. She was a good kid, really. You were relaxing at home, watching some television when Carmensita and Mat burst through the door, smiles on their faces. ‘Hey, Y/N! Dad’s taking me to the park, you coming?’ She grinned and plopped next to you. You stared skeptically at her. ‘Erghh, I don’t know, Carmen. These dad legs just can’t seem to push themselves off this couch.’ You joked. ‘Perhaps if there was a bit of offering for the creaking dad bones I could consider leaving the couch.’ Carmensita pouted. ‘Aweee, c’mon! This is the first time we’ve gone to the park together in a while!’ She whined, pulling at your arm. Mat crossed his arms and grinned at you. ‘We’re bringing a picnic basket full of food.’In a flash, you jumped up from the couch in record speed. ‘Welp, what are we waiting for, then?’ The young girl sniggered at your antics and dragged you towards the car, Mat staying behind to pack the picnic basket and left you two to wait in the car. Carmensita reached over for the radio, switching it on and letting cheery pop music fill the air. Her face lit up with glee. ‘Oh, wow! I love this song!’ She cheered and began eagerly singing along, occasionally stumbling over the words with a bashful look on her face. Her enthusiasm radiated off you and seeing her so happy made you attempt to join in on her fun, tapping to the rhythm of the song on the steering wheel and trying your best to follow along with the lyrics, though you failed miserably. Carmensita took no notice of this though and enjoyed singing with you in your own still carpool karaoke.  ‘Hey, guys?’ Mat chimed in, climbing into the backseat. ‘As much as I love to see you two singing your hearts out, I think we should get going before the sun sets.’ You nodded in agreement and left Carmensita to have her own solo, starting the car to drive off to the park. Despite the late afternoon setting which is around the time kids came to play, the park was actually quite empty with only a few children playing around and a couple parents relaxing on the benches. You and Mat carried the picnic basket as Carmensita set down the picnic blanket on the soft grass. Settling onto the blanket, she spotted a bunch of flowers and weeds not far from where you were sitting and walked towards them, plucking them off the ground and walking back to where you and Mat were sitting. ‘Y/N, have you ever made a flower crown before?’ She asked, handing you some flowers and a couple weeds. ‘It’s really fun, actually!’ ‘I think I made one in kindergarten for a girl I liked, but the flowers I used turned out to be the ones she were allergic to and she had to get sent home. I’ve tried to avoid making them ever since.’ You shrugged.  Carmensita rolled her eyes jokingly and began weaving. ‘Childhood trauma aside, flower crowns are an art to make and are pleasing to my generation’s odd taste in aesthetics. Here, let me teach you.’She helped you weave through the weeds and flowers, and while the finished product didn’t look the best, it wasn’t bad for a beginner such as yourself. Carmensita expertly created a beautiful matching flower crown and placed in on top of your head, then putting the flower crown you made and putting it on. ‘See? I told you it was an art form.’ She stuck out her tongue at you, then turned to Mat. ‘Don’t we look great, Dad?’ Mat was utterly silent, looking back and forth between you and his daughter before bursting into sudden tears. You immediately patted Mat’s back, nervously asking him what was wrong. ‘N-Nothing, it’s just that you both look so..adorable…’ Mat sniffed. Carmensita’s once concerned face converted back into her joking one. ‘Dad, don’t scare us like that!’ She groaned and hugged her father. You joined in on the family hug, feeling the father and daughter’s warm embrace course through your veins.Brian; When you got into a relationship with Brian, to say Daisy warmed up to you was an understatement. She got relatively close to you once you and Brian stopped competing against each other, helping you with your word jumbles and taking Maxwell out for walks. A sweet and intelligent girl indeed, and you had a satisfactory relationship.  You were cooking up lunch for the three of you, Brian working on the lawn while Daisy sat at the kitchen table, working on her assignments given to her the other day. The house was relatively silent so you could hear the scrapes of her ballpen against the parchment. From your peripheral vision, you could see that she had her tongue stuck out, concentrating on her work.  Since you were well aware of Daisy’s intelligence and willingness to complete her assignments, you went on life autopilot, daydreaming off to who knows where as you cooked your bacon in peace. So it was surprising when you heard a faint voice call out to you from the table. ‘Erm, Y/N?’ You turned to see Daisy sat upright on her seat, massaging her arm. ‘Do you think you could help me with this drawing? My hands are kinda starting to cramp up…’ ‘Oh, sure.’ You finished cooking the bacon and slid it onto a nearby plate before sitting next to the young girl. ‘What are we drawing here?’ The drawing was a sunny scene of two kids playing in a field, half colored with Daisy’s felt tip pens. You assumed she was cramping up from coloring, so you reached for her pens and began coloring in the scene. ‘This is a nice drawing, Daisy. What’s it for?’ You asked, out of pure curiosity. She turned a bright red and avoided your gaze. ‘Well, uh, we’re meant to draw something that we’re looking forward to this year.’ She explained. ‘I was kinda hoping to get a new friend this year, now that Amanda’s off in college.’ She seemed a bit sensitive about the topic, so you dropped it and continued coloring the drawing. Daisy joined you after resting her hand for a bit, coloring by your side in silence. You were a bit too careless with your coloring, getting a smudge of blue ink on your finger. Before you could walk over to the sink to wash it out, you had a sudden flash of an idea and picked up the blue ink, doodling a little face on your finger. The girl looked up at you in confusion. ‘Y/N, what are you-’ Before she could reply, you turned your middle finger with a little smiley face towards her, channeling the silliest voice you could get. ‘Hey, Daisy! I’m Mr. Blue! I heard you wanted a friend this year, and I’d be more than willing to be your friend!’ Daisy looked perplexed at first, before bursting into a fit of giggles. Amanda taught her well in pretending. She reached for a red felt tip pen and handed it to you. ‘I think Mr. Blue is a bit lonely. You should give him a friend!’ You got to work and doodled a similar smiley face on your pointer finger, but with little eyelashes on the end and presented it to her. ‘Hello! I’m Miss Red, and I too want to engage into a friendship with you, young lady!’ You let your voice raise a few octaves, hurting your throat but making Daisy full on laugh. She grabbed your hand and etched a few strokes of clothes onto her new finger friends. As she was applying dots of makeup onto Miss Red’s “face”, Brian walked into the kitchen, a bit confused at the setup. ‘Daisy? I knew you were good at drawing, but I didn’t know you were a tattoo artist.’ He peered down at her work. ‘What have you two been up to?’ She raised your palm to show her father your inked fingers. ‘Y/N says that they’re my friends, Dad! I gave them clothes and everything!’ Brian chortled at her daughter’s silly antics. It wasn’t often that he got to see his daughter so childlike. ‘Well, that’s great, pumpkin. Let’s invite them over for lunch, eh?’ You three (well, five) had a great lunch together, letting Mr. Blue and Miss Red out occasionally to make a silly remark that made Daisy giggle in her seat. Her father looked beyond the goofy personas and stared at you wistfully. It wasn’t until Daisy was up in her room and you were washing away the finger friends that Brian walked up to you with a satisfied look on his face. ‘You’re great with Daisy, you know that? She really needs friends, and I think she feels comfortable with you.’ ‘Don’t forget yourself, Brian. You’re her father for goodness sake.’ You joshed. ‘Do I hear a competition for friendliest with Daisy?’‘Winner gets unlimited cuddles?’‘You’re on, Harding.’ 

-mod coffee cake

[kaediisarchive]

Hey Santa here, hope you are having a great day. What made you RP Skarlet, what was it about her that drew you in?

          Hi Santa! Thank you so much for the question <3

          So when MK9 came out, I was a teenager and was just now entering that phase where I started to get decent at video games. Like, cognitively I could actually think about gameplay and stuff instead of just button mashing like a kid. I had played MK Armageddon before, it was my introduction to the franchise, but at that time I was too young to really comprehend how the game worked, y’know? But then here comes MK9, and my upgraded teen brain was like “ah hey this is actually cool and really fun to play and I can pull off some neat moves” but at the same time, there was always a challenge of finding characters that worked for me. Sonya was my first “main” in the sense that I played well with her and thus wanted to play as her most of the time, but at the same time, I felt like I wasn’t really get my best self out of it. 

          I’m making this sound way more complicated than it was lmao but down the line the DLC characters come out, and I instantly gravitate towards Skarlet. Just the idea of her character, this person who could manipulate blood, sounded extremely cool to me! I was already hooked on the concept in general thanks to Avatar: The Last Airbender and their episode on bloodbending, so to have a character in this video game I loved to play be able to do that was so cool to me. But then I started playing as her, and I realize that her gameplay was perfect for me! She became my instant main, and I’m not trying to brag, but I think I got really, REALLY good with her. At least compared to my little circle of teen gamers, that is. In band in middle school and high school (our school district is tiny so the two were combined), we would take turns bringing consoles and stuff to play on before competitions or sports events, and I would fucking BODY the highschoolers. So, my sense of accomplishment in that regard only served to further how attached I got to Skarlet, both as my main in terms of gameplay and her character as a whole.

          When I got into roleplay, I quickly learned that I had a type of character I gravitate towards the most. Badass assassin women, mostly. And Skarlet fit that perfectly, so she was one of the first characters I picked up to roleplay. I didn’t join tumblr until like 2016 and I didn’t bring her to tumblr until around 2018/2019, but I’ve been writing her since like 2013/2014. MK11 did a lot to change her, but I can’t help but cling to the headcanons and ideas that I’ve had for almost a decade now because that’s all I had of her in the years that were dry of Skarlet content. And let’s face it, they didn’t really flesh her out AT ALL in her introduction, so I really took that opportunity to imagine whatever I wanted and shape my portrayal of Skarlet my own way without having to stick tight to canon. Which was a blessing at the time, and probably a little bit of a curse now considering how much I do not vibe with the new canon introduced in MK11 to be honest, but I don’t care. It’s roleplay, I don’t have to adhere to shitty decisions if I don’t want to lmao.

          One thing I am sad about though is the change in her gameplay from MK9 to MK11. She’s a completely different character in terms of playstyle and I will never not be upset about it. She was fast af and so damn good at mixups and combos (in my experience at least) but now she’s waaaay slower and she’s a zoner which is the complete opposite of how I like to play, so it’s really just not fun to play her in MK11 and that’s BIG SAD fam. But a good thing is I know that there are people who love to play zoner and have a great time playing Skarlet, so that’s great for them! I’m just a bit sad that I can’t like I used to anymore. But oh well, I still play MK9 so I can still have that classic experience whenever I feel like it.

[nyrator]

more ramblings and ventings and some thanksgiving/reminiscing things

officially single for a week

still not a word from him, but that’s his choice. Probably hurt him pretty terribly, so I won’t pester, but the least I could hope for is him to acknowledge me in some sense- maybe I don’t deserve that much, though, maybe it’s retribution for cutting things off. He’s gone completely radio silent on the internet, though apparently still in contact with at least one other person I know last I checked. Maybe time away from the internet is what he needs, I just hope he can find a way to enjoy his time away from it.

It’s sad it had to be all or nothing, and my all just wasn’t enough. I’ll keep giving him space and maybe try to check with that friend of his later in the week to make sure he’s still alive- nothing in the obituaries yet, thankfully. Can’t keep worrying about that, though, it’s out of my hands what happens. I just hope he comes back around someday, would still like him to be in my life somehow, but maybe that’s just selfish of me- break things up and expect us to still be together somehow.

life’s been drifting along lately

after the break up, I felt a mix of rejuvenation and guilt/sadness, and felt like I could at least focus on getting myself back together. Quickly, though, fell back into the same endless routine. Days are flying by and just being slept away, while I spend them doing nothing. No cleaning beyond the cats basic needs, only managed to go on a walk once this week, not watching anything or doing anything, just killing time with Picross if anything- though that’s getting to the point where it’s taking me 30 minutes to do a single puzzle, so not sure how much longer I’ll keep doing it (just got to Wario level 6 in the SNES Mario Picross)

It really feels like there’s nothing left for me, at this rate. The cats are the only thing that keep me from sleeping all the time, and it’s getting harder and harder to keep preparing food for myself. I don’t know what day or what time it is most of the time, just sleep when I think I’m up too late and make food when I feel like it

hard to believe december’s here already, I feel like I haven’t done a single thing since my costume was finished- all the pieces are still out in my room from the last time I wore it.

went out with a friend before thanksgiving to window shop before everything closes again- not even sure why I took the risk since there was nothing I needed, but just had to get out, I suppose.

decided to buy a sleep mask, but it’s a bit tight and distracting (I could also get a my melo one, though...). I think light isn’t too big an issue when I sleep, it’s mostly the traffic outside, but it was cute and I felt like I needed to buy something

Thanksgiving was alright, at least- Spent the day at my uncle’s place with my aunt and their grandson (everyone else cancelled because covid). Tried pies for the first time (other than a pie made from peanut butter that a friend’s mom made for me years ago), apple and pumpkin, edible but not something I’d normally eat- pumpkin seemed better to me than apple, maybe for the softer flavor/texture, which is weird because while apple can be a weird flavor for me, usually not a fan of anything pumpkin. Tasted kind of minty for lack of better word, though.

They’re good people, good to me- they know a live florist who they plan on asking if I can get a job with (live flowers scare me and my allergies, and specifically my phobia of bees/buzzing insects, but it sounds nice), and they also found a used car that sounds pretty affordable that they may be able to get. It’s nice of them to help me.

They also had a bunch of old photos of me that they gave to me, which surprised me- I had thought all photos of me that weren’t school photos were destroyed already (my father would go through photo albums and tear them to shreds when we weren’t home to spite us/my mother). Nice looking back and seeing some things from back then- mostly baby/toddler Ny and Christmas Ny- I remember wearing matching onesies with my sister a lot for the holidays but boy are there a lot of us in matching red onesies throughout the years (also realizing we looked like hicks growing up, at least in candid photos). They even have a photo of me in that one extremely revealing swimsuit my parents got me one summer when I was like 8-10... still not sure why they thought it was a good idea, honestly

the photos from 2005/06-ish were haunting to look at, I never realized how awful I looked, and I’m not just being self-deprecating- I was disgusting to look at. To be fair, back then my diet was only soda, chips, cheese balls, and Burger King- nothing else, because my mother worked and my father just gave us bags of snacks for meals, basically, but actually seeing photos, it’s kind of revolting. I remember when I got to high school I was almost hitting 200lbs, and I made the resolve to cut all that junk out of my diet before I got diabetes or something and can gladly say I never got over that weight (here’s hoping I can get into a decent body for once by next year with this diet, lost 15-ish lbs so far since August, so here’s hoping)

But otherwise, was nice to see some things- Got to see a photo of my middle school computer setup (that chair was the main thing, I always remember it being a lot taller but now I have good art reference for it)

plus my cats sleeping with me... oreo... and patches too, but... oreo...

shout outs to my mess of a bed aka a couch wrapped up in many layers of blankets, forgot just how many different couches I slept on but there’s at least four different ones I’ve seen in photos, I feel like that one’s probably closer to high school than middle school Ny but I can’t tell- it’s a weird thing that sticks with me, sleeping on the couch with all those blankets

speaking of beds, debated doxxing younger self but instead have a younger pixelated Ny sleeping (kind of defeats the point but y’know)

there was also a brief stint where I had a bunk bed with my sister but I think I only used it in like the first half of elementary school, if that, otherwise my life was spent sleeping on couches until college

but yeah better not get too carried away in photos

I feel like my options are as follows:

Go to online school and get a degree in something, maybe programming since computer jobs are all the rage

Find a job online. I could probably do data entry but scared of being a secretary or anything involving communicating with people, and I wouldn’t know where to start- chances are it’d be fairly difficult, honestly.

Get a car and find some other retail work (in covid times, I feel that’s a lot more difficult, but if my uncle/aunt come through with the car/floral shop, who knows)

Apply for some kind of disability or something and live off the government for the rest of my days (my aunt sure thinks I should and she’s pretty savvy about that stuff, but I dunno)

Keep drifting aimlessly until I fall flat on my face or pass away

Most likely going to drift for a while, I’d imagine. It wouldn’t be as bad if I at least had something to work on- a series I wanted to marathon, or games I wanted to play, or most importantly, things I felt like creating. I just want to make something, but it feels like I’m just buried deep under a cloak of depression or something that I can’t even bring myself to do any of these things. Everything just feels heavier and harder to do anymore.

[jellyfishline]

Fic for the second prompt of @promptisfanweek! This time the prompt was high school days.

Also on AO3

It’s a blindingly bright day and, frankly, way too hot for May. Noct’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he’s still sweating. It might actually be kind of embarrassing, if Prompto wasn’t so rumpled and pink-faced that Noct’s almost worried he’s gonna get heatstroke.

“Hey,” Noct says, as they’re forced to stop at a crosswalk. The blur of traffic is almost dizzyingly fast, cars speeding past only inches away from the glossy toes of their uniform shoes. “You wanna get, like, an ice cream or something?”

A pause. Prompto picks at his bookbag like he’s testing the strength of the strap over his shoulder.

“I mean, if you want to,” Noct adds, pointlessly. “Or we could do something else. I don’t care.”

Prompto still isn’t looking at him. He worries his lower lip between his teeth.

“You sure?” he says, after a moment.

Noct thumps him on the back. “Why would I ask if I wasn’t?”

Prompto elbows him back. “Yeah, I know. But, you don’t…” he hesitates, starts over. “You don’t have somewhere else to be, right?”

“Nope. Today’s all clear.” Noctis tilts his head, trying to catch Prompto’s eye without being too obvious about it. “Does that… matter?”

Prompto shrugs.

Silence hangs between them, humid and heavy with the noise of cars. Noct thinks about saying something else—pressing the issue until Prompto lets out whatever’s on his mind. Before he can pick out the words to use, Prompto’s nudging him with his shoulder.

The crosswalk light is green.

“C’mon,” Prompto says. “I’ll split a cone with you. I’m buying.”

 Noctis wasn’t lying about having the day to himself. After they pick up their cone and spend a few minutes arguing about flavors, they decide to wander back to Noct’s apartment through the park. It’s full of sunshine and lilacs and dogs tugging at their owners’ leashes, but not even the sight of a corgi jogging energetically after a bear-sized old mutt is enough to jog Prompto out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” Noctis says, after the silence has stretched to it’s breaking point. “Is something… bothering you?”

He’s sort of expecting Prompto to laugh off the question the way he usually does. Instead, Prompto just keeps staring at the cone in his hand. It’s mint chocolate—Prompto’s favorite. Yet, Noct realizes, he doesn’t think Prompto’s had so much of a lick of it yet.

Noctis stops walking. Prompto keeps going for half a step, stopping only when Noct catches him by the shoulder.

“What’s up?” Noct asks. He fights to keep his tone light—he doesn’t want to corner Prompto if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he also knows that sometimes Prompto just won’t talk about things unless Noct brings it up first.

“It’s not important,” Prompto mutters. He’s still not meeting Noct’s eye.

“Okay,” Noct says.

Neither of them move.

The ice cream’s melting. It drips down Prompto’s hand, under his wristband. Noct snatches the cone away before it can get on his uniform.

The action seems to startle Prompto out of his thoughts. He blinks and refocuses on Noct’s face. “Hey, I was gonna eat that,” he says, half-hearted at best.

“Yeah right,” Noct says, and the words aren’t harsh, aren’t meant to be, but Prompto looks away as if they were.

Noctis digs the toe of his shoe into the ground. He doesn’t understand how to act in a situation like this. Normally Prompto’s the one who brightens the mood. And Noct’s not even sure if it needs to be brightened, or if this is the kinda problem that has to be gone through the hard way.

“You, uh, wanna sit down?” he asks, after moment. “There’s a bench over there.”

Prompto nods, and they make their way to an old bench in the shade of some overgrown bushes. Prompto slouches forward, picking at his wristband—a nervous tic, Ignis calls it.

Noctis eats some of the ice cream, just to keep it from making a mess. He barely even tastes it.

“So,” Prompto says. Noct holds his breath. “I’ve, um. I’ve been thinking.”

Noct doesn’t know if he’s supposed to answer. He tries to keep as still as possible, focused on the ice cream in his hand. He doesn’t want to spook him out of saying whatever it is he’s gotta say.

It seems to be a good choice, because Prompto keeps talking.

“Is this… y’know, is this gonna…” Prompto makes a motion with his hand like he’s searching for a word. “Is it worth it?”

Noct turns the words over in his head a few times. “Uh, is what worth it?” he asks, finally.

Prompto makes a frustrated noise in his throat. “Y’know. Us.” Prompto shifts his shoulders awkwardly. “Like, I know you said I didn’t have to worry about it, but… I don’t wanna get you in trouble. Or whatever.”

Noct’s stomach sinks into his shoes. Oh. Of course it was something to do with this.

“I’m not in trouble,” he says, as evenly as he can manage when it feels like his throat is gonna burst into splinters if he talks too loud.

Prompto nods. He’s still picking at the wristband. He’s gonna pull it to shreds if he keeps worrying it like that.

“Did someone say something to you?” Noct says, mentally reviewing the list of people who might have said shit to Prompto in the past few days and if it would cause a diplomatic incident if he kicked any of them in the stomach.

“No.” Prompto shakes his head. “No, dude, it’s just… I don’t know. I don’t wanna get in the way of your… princely stuff.”

“You aren’t,” Noct says automatically. Shit, he is going to kill Ignis. He made that stupid comment about Prompto taking up too much of Noct’s time weeks ago, but apparently it made so much of an impression that Prompto’s still beating himself up over it.

Unless…

Noctis feels an icy wave of dread rush down his spine. “Did—did I say something? That made you think I didn’t wanna date you, or…”

“No, no way,” Prompto says quickly. “No, it’s just—ergh.” He makes that frustrated sound again. “I’m just being stupid.”

Noct doesn’t know what to say to that. He scoots across the bench until their shoulders are touching. It’s not exactly a grand gesture of affection, but Noct knows that even the smallest of touches have a way of getting Prompto out of his thoughts. It’s one of the things they have in common.

“I know you wanna be with me,” Prompto says, quietly. “It’s just… I keep thinking. What if someone decides I’m a—bad influence or something. What if it gets out that we’re together and someone upstairs decides that I’m a distraction, or that I’m gonna screw up your chance for an heir or—I don’t know. What if they make it so I’m never allowed to see you again?”

Noct winces. He can’t help it. He’s worried about the same damn thing ever since they became friends. And now… gods, it keeps him up at night, sometimes.

“I… kinda know what you mean,” he admits.

Prompto leans his head on his shoulder. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he mumbles.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Noct says. “I mean—yeah. We do kinda have the whole world breathing down our necks. But… Prompto, people like you.”

Prompto ducks his face into Noct’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, dude,” Noct says, giving him a little shake. “I know you don’t believe me or whatever, but it’s true. Gladio likes you, specs warmed up to you the minute he got that stick out of his ass—my dad likes you and he hasn’t even met you.”

Prompto sits bolt upright. “Your dad likes me?”

“Um. Yeah?” Noct’s not sure he really gets the expression of mixed shock and horror on Prompto’s face. “Like, he didn’t say it exactly, but he thinks you’re ‘good for me’ or whatever. He wants to meet you. Actually, I think he’s gonna try to get you an invite to the solstice banquet? So like, watch out for that. It’s pretty dull. Um.”

Prompto looks like he’s internally combusting. “He doesn’t—know about us, does he?”

“What? No!” Noct shakes his head. “No, gods—I wouldn’t just tell him like that. Not without talking to you first. I mean. We said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet, right?”

“Right. Yeah.” Prompto has both hands clapped over his mouth. “Holy shit. He really thinks I’m good for you?”

“You are good for me, dude.”

Prompto is staring vaguely into the middle distance again. Noct, gently, puts a hand on his back.

“People really like you, Prom,” he says. “And I get that you’re new to all this stuff, but being liked is seriously half the battle in politics. You already passed your background check and everything, so like… I don’t think anyone’s gonna kick you out unless it turns out you’re plotting my death.”

Prompto makes a noise like a laugh that got caught in his throat. “You never know, dude,” he says, giving Noct a shaky smile. “I might be an assassin or something.”

“Yeah, totally.” Noct slaps a hand to his chest. “You sniped me right in the heart.”

For about half a second, they stare at each other. Then, suddenly, Prompto seizes the back of Noct’s head and kisses the shit out of him.

“Uh?” Noct says, the moment he’s allowed to breathe.

“You’re a nerd,” Prompto says, like that’s an explanation. “And there was ice cream on your face. It was bugging the crap out of me.”

“Uh,” Noct says. His brain needs to reboot.

Prompto’s ears go pink. “People are staring, aren’t they?”

“A little bit,” Noct admits. “I don’t, um. I don’t think they’ve recognized me?”

“Right. Awesome.” Prompto jumps off the bench. “Let’s get out of here before someone catches us, okay?”

He holds out a hand. Noctis takes it without even thinking about it.

“Okay,” he says, as Prompto pulls him off the shaded bench and back into the brilliant sunshine. “But I’m not going home before I buy you another ice cream.”

[sweetnestor]

You Look Happier | Chapter 12

university au, teamiplier + jack

platonic/romance/angst/smut(only on ao3)

previous chapter

The second and final day of the trip was less hectic. I actually slept this time, and I woke up at a more reasonable hour. My appetite was still gone, though, so I only lived on one cup of coffee. I could survive with just one. I’ve done it before.

We went back to the park, but stayed in the gift shops, where it was warm and a lot more relaxed than the many cliffs and long drops. I bought a pocket knife and warm gloves that worked on touchscreens. It was all I needed.

After that, we went on a walk in the bone shattering cold. Apparently, you could live on the Grand Canyon, as there was a small town somewhere in the woods. Houses, schools, stores, and farms were all over the place. It was a nice walk, we chatted and enjoyed the scenery. We stumbled across a mule farm, and crossed some train tracks to get back to the Visitor Center.

My mind did a mental record scratch upon seeing the old, rusty tracks. One step onto them, and I felt like I was sixteen years old. I didn't want to cross them because it would only bring back a lot of painful memories, but life has no trigger warnings. This was the only way to get back to the Visitor Center: crossing the tracks.

“Bella?”

I had stopped in the middle of the tracks. Nothing was coming to end my life, but there was a small part of me that wanted to wait, just in case. I was fixed on the distance, torn between wanting to wait and wanting to run until I was physically pulled away.

My eyes were glossed over and everything sounded muffled. Jack tried talking to me, but it felt like I had shut down, and I couldn't respond. I was sure I made myself look insane and suicidal. Might as well stay silent and scare them more. Clench jaw. Pick at nails. Try not to have a melt down.

Maybe being far away from home was messing with my head. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. Maybe I was never meant to function normally.

We began the journey home in the afternoon. I drove, probably after Jack convinced the others that I needed to drive in order to function again. Eventually, my focus on the road leaked into focusing on the conversations in the car. I glanced in the rear view mirror. Amy, Kathryn, Ethan: second row. Tyler, Jack: third row. Then I heard the music playing. Ironically, it was a song that hit home, and for some reason I couldn't stop myself from quietly singing it.

“All that I know is I don't know How to be something you miss Never thought we'd have a last kiss”

“Look who's back,” Mark said gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied softly.

“So…” he trailed off, and I noticed everyone else go silent. “You wanna talk about what happened back there?”

I scoffed. “I mean, I've freaked everyone out enough already.”

“We're more concerned than freaked out,” Ethan spoke. Of course he was listening. “You don't have to if you don't want to, obviously. But we're your friends, and we can listen.”

Logically, talking it out was supposed to help. Irrationally, I had to keep my guard up. I couldn’t trust these people. The odds were 50/50 here.

“Did anyone else think about how many people killed themselves at the Grand Canyon?” I asked, internally bracing myself.

“What?” Tyler asked in disbelief.

“Tyler!” Mark and Ethan snapped at the same time.

“Okay, forget I said anything!” I retracted with a nervous laugh.

“No, no, no!” Mark said, pointing a warning finger at me. “We’re talking about this! You’re doing good!”

“I looked it up,” Kathryn said. “It was… sixteen people.”

There’s the validation I needed. “Only sixteen? They’re probably hiding something.”

“It’s probably just off the edge,” Amy added. “I mean, we all saw the neighborhoods there. How many people ended their lives, like, in their bathrooms? Or on the train tracks?”

Tried it both ways myself. Still alive somehow.

There was a small, thoughtful wave of agreement in response to Amy. I kept thinking that it was going to be weird, that I was going to make things weird. But here we were, having a casual discussion about people killing themselves. Would I have been able to talk about this in the past?

“Sorry if I made things depressing,” I explained sheepishly. “It was, it was just an intrusive thought, and it kept bugging me.” That, and I was unexpectedly reminded of the time I drove to the train tracks by my house and sat on them until I chickened out. After that, I went home and cut my hair instead of my veins.

“Hey, you’re opening up,” Jack told me from the very back. “It’s a good thing.”

The sad song that was playing now ended, and in came a Fall Out Boy song. I didn’t think too much of it until I heard three gasps from the back seat. One look in the mirror showed Amy, Kathryn, and Ethan with excited looks on their faces.

“Turn it up!” Amy exclaimed.

I did, surprised. The three of them belted out the lyrics to Save Rock and Roll. Finally, some common ground. I saw Tyler and Jack dancing in their seats, even Mark was bopping his head. It was honestly a relief to see that they liked at least one thing I listened to.

Even after that song, Amy lit up at the fact that I listened to Ed Sheeran’s new singles. Even Mark liked them, much to my surprise.

“I love the nostalgia,” he commented. “It makes me think of my own hometown.”

Must be nice.

“I just like singing it,” I said in response.

Mark chuckled. “So you don’t think of the place you grew up in?”

“It does, but then I remember that I left all the bad stuff there, so it’s not exactly a pleasant string of thoughts.”

“Well, memories are a mix of good and bad. You gotta have at least one good thing about where you came from.” Then, he perked up como se prendió el foco. “Everyone has to share one good memory from their hometown.”

“Oo, I got one!” Jack piped up. “I used to climb all the trees around my house and pretend I was Spider-Man!”

“Nice, anyone else?” Mark asked.

“Driving with my friends to Boston,” Ethan added.

“That’s not your hometown, though!”

“It counts,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “It’s a memory, it counts.”

Mark playfully rolled his eyes. “Okay. Who’s next?”

“A lot of mine involved you,” Tyler said. “There’s too many to pick.”

Again, must be nice.

“I liked Christmas time where I lived,” Amy chimed in. “Family time was always fun.”

Can’t relate.

“Me too,” Kathryn agreed. “Now that I live far from my family, I really miss it.”

Might as well look into the camera like I’m in The Office.

“I liked graduating high school,” I said simply.

I could see Mark smile from the corner of my eye. I was pretty sure he was the only one who knew why I liked that particular memory. I never told Jack, surprisingly, and I definitely had no plans to tell Ethan either.

That thought was cut off by Mark and I gasping at the song that played next. My hand immediately went to his arm, like it was an instinct, and I glanced at him with a smile. He returned the expression and then we both went to turn up the volume. Our hands touched, and suddenly I was taken out of the car and thrown back into 2015. Mark would listen to me sing, and out of all the songs I showed him, this was the one to stick.

“So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me close until our eyes meet You won’t ever be alone Wait for me to come home”

It still had a great deal of meaning, all of it came rushing back as the song played. Our romantic relationship was a closed chapter, and I wasn’t so focused on the end of it anymore. Mark brought a lot of good into my life, I had to admit that. If I hadn’t met him, where would I be?

We sang together. That was what I wanted for over a year. I finally got it, I finally heard our voices meld together, and I enjoyed it. He sang one part of a verse while I took on the next. For some reason, this meant more than the time we planned to sing for my channel.

“When I’m away, I will remember how you kissed me Under the lamp post back on Sixth Street Hearing you whisper through the phone Wait for me to come home”

There was a nice moment of silence. My smile didn’t seem to falter. I could have gone as far to say that it was peaceful. Then, just as the next song began,

“So… Bella’s my girlfriend.”

Moment. Gone. What is peace? What is good? I sure as hell don’t know!

“What?” Mark asked as he turned down the volume and looked back. “What did you say?”

No, don’t do it.

“Bella and I are dating now,” Ethan calmly replied.

The silence that came after that could have crushed me like a bug. I was curling into myself before I could stop it. I felt my brain spark like it was short circuiting. This was not happening.

“Since when?” Mark sounded completely dumbfounded, like he had been smacked.

“Since January twentieth.”

“We’re doing this now?” I blurted out, my voice unnaturally raised.

“Wait, wait,” Tyler spoke up. “So you’ve been going out with Bella every night? That’s why you’re never home anymore?”

“Yup, I’ve been seeing her,” Ethan replied like nothing was wrong.

Another silence. I wanted to swerve into a semi if it meant avoiding this.

“How long were you waiting to tell us?” Mark was watching me.

Now I had an answer. “Well, we wanted to tell you, specifically, ‘cause like, I dated you and now I’m dating Ethan, and we weren’t sure if it was gonna be weird, and we were supposed to do this when we were back home! We made a plan! But y’know! Here we are now!” My voice went up an octave with every word.

“Okay, take it easy,” Mark told me. “Nothing is wrong. It’s… it’s cool that you guys are together.”

“Why didn’t I see that coming?” Amy wondered. “You guys actually seem like a decent fit.”

“So who else knew about this?” her boyfriend asked mock-seriously as he looked at everyone in the back. “Who was in cahoots with these two?”

“You know I knew about all of this,” Jack said. “I mean I live with her! Of course I knew!”

“Guilty,” Kathryn added.

“I live with Ethan and I had no idea!” Tyler said with a laugh.

Everything felt wrong! I felt exposed! I felt betrayed! Worse, I felt betrayed by my own boyfriend!

“I told you they’d take it well,” Ethan said to me.

I stayed quiet and chewed the inside of my lip.

“Bella?”

Nope.

“She said you guys made a plan?” Mark said, looking back at the traitor.

“Yeah, we were going to wait until we got home. I don’t know, I just decided to drop the bomb now. Let everyone know at once.”

“I see. Well, uh, stick to the plan next time. Just a word of advice.”

“Is she mad at me?”

“It’s just… y’know, the anxiety.”

“Yup,” I finally spoke. “Listen to the Bella Expert. He’ll tell you all about my irrationality.”

“Bella!” Jack said in a warning tone.

“What did I do?” Ethan asked.

“We had a plan!” I snapped, now angry. “How am I supposed to trust you if you can’t do this one thing?”

“Hey, hey, take it easy!” Mark tried to reassure. “Here’s what’s going to happen-”

“No!” I interrupted. “New plan: I’m not going to the office with you guys.”

“Bella-”

“I’m going to your house, I’m going to put my stuff in my car, and I’m going home. No one is going to follow me, and no one will contact me.”

“Bella, please-” Ethan tried.

“Especially you.”

Needless to say, the rest of the ride was silent, apart from the music playing on the radio.

~

“Okay, I was a little jealous that you were singing with her,” Ethan admitted, a range of emotions going through his chest. “So I said we're dating and… now she's mad at me! I didn't think she would get mad!”

“That’s the thing with Bella,” Mark explained, sounding exasperated, “if something goes against the plan, she shuts down. She avoids the situation and gets irrational. You can’t let her do that.”

Ethan sat there, trying to keep his cool, trying to control his impulse. He didn’t like that Mark was telling him how to handle his girlfriend. Like Bella had implied, he was no expert. But then again, Mark has dated his girlfriend. If there was one way to find out about her, then it was through her ex. It was the only option now that Bella had shut him out.

Somehow, he, Mark, Tyler, and Jack made it through filming some videos without letting the awkward tension leak on camera. Due to demands and deadlines, Ethan couldn’t afford to miss anything, despite that Mark said it was okay. If Ethan had left, he wouldn’t know what to do when he got to Bella’s place. She made it clear she didn’t want to be followed, what choice did he have? What other option was there than to talk to her ex-boyfriend?

“So what do I do, then?” he asked, finally turning around his chair, away from the computer.

Mark, now riled up from the fiasco in the car, let out a heavy sigh. He paced around the room, avoiding eye contact. “I asked her if she was seeing anyone and she lied to me. She can’t trust me as her friend, either.”

Ethan knew this was going to go sourly the minute the words had come out of his mouth. There was a part of him that wanted to be optimistic, but he knew. He knew and he still did it. He might as well pack his bags and run back to Maine. He might as well leave Bella… No, he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t going to be forced into choosing between his career and his relationship.

“You have to be patient with her,” Jack suddenly spoke up from the doorway. “Trust me, if you just sit with her quietly, she’ll eventually talk to you. She might be a little passive aggressive at first, but if she really cares, you’ll get through to her.”

How have they never dated? Ethan wondered, but he knew better than to say that out loud.

Mark was looking at Jack incredulously, probably wondering the same thing. It didn’t seem like it was helping the tension.

“I live with her,” Jack told him, “and I know you hate to hear this, but I’ve spent more time with her than you ever have.”

“That’s not true,” he tried to rebuttal.

“It is. That’s something she would always tell me, and it really hurt her. I could go on, but it’s not about that right now,” Jack concluded, his voice firm. Then he went over and sat next to Ethan.

It was probably a bad way to think, but Ethan almost felt smug that Mark and Bella’s relationship wasn’t as picture perfect as he originally thought. This whole time, he had been thinking about how he could never get up to Mark’s level, that Mark probably made Bella way happier than he, Ethan, ever could. He saw evidence of that when they were singing in the car. But the fact that Jack just confirmed that that wasn’t the case… Was it bad to think this way?

“You know Bella has some issues,” Jack told him, “and I’m not saying that like she’s a car that needs to be repaired. She’s working on it, and she’s been getting better. I just think…” He trailed off, and looked back at Mark, unsure of what to say.

The room was still tense. Mark was standing at the desk opposite Jack and Ethan, watching them with utter guilt on his face. But then, he sighed and walked over to them. He sat down in one of the chairs by the monitors and looked directly at Ethan.

“After what I did to her,” he began, “don’t be surprised that she’s pushing you away. That she kicked you out of her home, that she questions everything you say and do, that she loses sleep over things like this. She thinks that people like her can’t have a happy ending. She thinks she’s not allowed to be happy. She thinks that she’s second or third or fourth priority, that she’s not important enough for you to make time for her. She thinks that her illness makes her unworthy and unlovable. I made her think that way, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting that.” Mark paused, looking down and squeezing his eyes shut before composing himself. “You need to prove to her that she can be loved unconditionally, because that’s what she deserves. You need to show her again and again that you are there for her and that you will not make her feel like a second priority.”

Ethan nodded, taking these words into consideration. “I’m trying. It’s hard, but I’m trying. I want to make her happy.”

“Hey, trust me dude,” Jack reassured, “you’ve made her really happy so far. And yes, she does take things to heart a lot, but that will make the good things that much better.”

Ethan liked hearing that, but he still felt a shred of doubt. “I want to help her… I can tell, she… she has a lot to talk about, but she won’t let me hear any of it. It feels like...”

“She sees you as the enemy,” Mark finished. “Yeah. Give it time, she will come around. When she cares about you, it shows. You just need to be ready for anything. Whether it’s a panic attack or a depressive episode, you have to be there, especially now that we all know what she’s capable of doing to herself.”

“But don’t treat her like a ticking time bomb, either,” Jack added. “She’s still a person. Oh, and don’t make any threesome jokes when talking about her sexuality. Don’t say it’s hot that she’s bi either. She hates that.”

“So just treat her like a normal person,” Ethan concluded. “And let her go at her own pace. I can do that.”

“You've got this,” Mark told him. “You're good to her. And… she doesn’t seem as down anymore, and now I think I know why.”

“Because she chose to work on herself,” Jack reminded him. “She needed a push from us, but she made the decision.”

The other two nodded in agreement. Then, Ethan looked at Mark and wondered for a second. “Why were you so okay with it when I told you? About me and Bella?”

“She tried to kill herself because of me. Who am I to tell her what she can and can't do?”

_______

next chapter

[kieranisapratt]

Hello Tumblr My Old Friend

Wow, we’re coming up to a year and a half since I last posted a rant late at night. I remember when I would do this daily and post twice if I missed a day. It was like a little bit of a diary, heh. Anyway, off topic.

For those of you who are new to this, I have trouble expressing myself so I post on a social media page in the hopes that people will see it without me having to actually tell them. As I mentioned, I used to do this daily (for the love of god don’t go searching, I beg you) and it helped, so in times of confusion, I tend to try again.

So updates since last time:

School life: non-existent. I am officially an adult, It’s all about the school of life now. Oh fuck,

Home life: things between my family and I are fine. I don’t see them as much as I should because I have girlfriend and a flat, but I think that everything is OK. The issue I’m having with them currently is that they’re all too fucking stubborn. My parents and grandparents live next to each other (to clarify just the grandad on my mum’s side). My parents and sister tend to make the effort and are always doing stuff for my grandad and his partner and from the sounds of things it’s not really reciprocated. My mum also doesn’t think she’s a priority for my grandad. Both of these combined mean they’re not making the effort with my grandad. My grandad being of that age is a stubborn arse and thinks that my mum is too busy for him so isn’t making the effort. THEY LIVE NEXT DOOR AND NEITHER OF THEM ARE MAKING THE EFFORT. I haven’t had a chance to speak to my grandad, but I have told my parents/sister to stop being so stubborn because live is too bloody short. I understand being frustrated, but just talk to each other and air the god-damn grievances. It’s not that hard. I’ve said this a lot to my family, but god help my kids if I ever have any, they gonna be stubborn as shit. Having thought about it, I’m concerned about my sister. She doesn’t have much of a social life, and tends to spend a lot of time with my parents. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but I think it would do her a world of good getting out with people nearer her own age. But I’m working on it, so cross your fingers.

Work life: well, this is an interesting one.The last time I posted one of these, I was just about to start heading into the world of Tesco. How did that go you (probably don’t) ask? I lasted 1 month before being offered a full time proper adult job in an office; meaning I have to wear a shirt and dress smart and everything. Since I have started this job, I have learnt the role, been almost made redundant because the department got moved to India, got promised a new role in a different department, got kept in my old role for longer because there wasn’t a position for me, instead got promoted to a specialist in the role, visited India (more on that later), and am now helping implement a new system into the business. All within the space of a year and a half. So quite a good CV is being built. I don’t think this is what I want to do long term. As I think I’ve said since I first posted one of these, I have no plans in life. Even a degree and a year and a half in an adult job later, I don’t know if this is right for me or what I want to do; but I guess we just have to wait and see what happens. I’ve almost quit my job twice in the last two years because I don’t agree with how things are going there, but something always crops up just at the wrong moment (or right depending on how you look at it). Work wise, I feel the need to figure out what I want to do and I know not everyone has it figured out at 23, but it would be nice. I just don’t like waking up every day not being excited about what the work day brings, y’know?

Social life: this is the same update as last time, to be honest. I have been getting better at messaging people and maintaining that contact. I think I’m now messaging all the people I want to message and want to keep in contact with. Actually, correction. Nearly everyone; but the people I’m not messaging I have reasons. One person I thought I would still be friends with at this point, I’m not friends with. There was a whole lot of drama, and if you want the details I’ll let you know, but it’s history as far as I’m concerned. I knew we’d drifted, but I thought I was civil and I thought things were OK between us, but I found out in a roundabout way they had blocked me on one form of social media. I don’t know why, I have apologised for whatever I did. I thought I’d let it go, but I’m not sure I have. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to them and it really sucks that they did that and they don’t want me in their life anymore. I respect their decision, I’ll have a moan about it to my girlfriend and friends, but I mean them no ill will and I wish them all the best. The only other person I kind of want to get in contact with still is an ex-crush (ugh... crush). That’s been a while since we spoke and things didn’t really end amazingly, in my opinion, like not badly but not well enough I feel comfortable messaging them out of the blue after 3 years. Anyway, other than that, I’m happy with my social life, I double date, I’ve been making effort and I’m just really proud of myself. Don’t get me wrong, I still suck so badly at being sociable in person most times, but I’m getting so much better and I’m really proud of myself because of that. 

Quidditch life: this is getting it’s own segment, although I think I always give it it’s own segment in a roundabout way. Anywho, the last time we spoke, I was Vice-Captain and Coach. I have been promoted to Coach and General Busy Body. I love the team so much. We have become a community team this year, so we are no longer connected to the university. So that’s a big scary thing that I’m proud to have helped set in motion. And I’m really proud of the team and I love everyone on the team and ah, another just good thing I need to focus on. However, I think I’m currently focused on the fact we haven’t gained any new concrete members this year, so we’ve been running on about 6 per practice. And that sucks. I wish we could have gained more people so I could stick a giant middle finger in the faces of people who shit on us. But alas. Also, a lot of this year has been me basically holding things together (as much as I loathe to admit it). And I think that may have tainted things a bit for me. I have started thinking along the lines of “we should call it a day and just hang out as friends” and I can’t get out of that mindset. Which is why I’m not running for any positions on the team this year, despite my girlfriend wanting me to be captain because she thinks I deserve it or my closest friend on the team thinking I should be president because “who else is going to hold things together when they’re gone?”. If the team survives into next year, I’ll still go along because I love it so much, but I think I’m coming to the end of the run. We’ll see. 

Love life: I think this is the one I’m most nervous about writing because this is the bit that when I type it, things become real. And that scares me. My girlfriend is amazing and the literal best and I do not make the rules, this is just fact. I went to her graduation this last year, and that made me such a proud boyfriend because she got a first and she’s a boss ass bitch. She is so strong and intelligent and has gone through so much stuff and has definitely made me a better person. (Here’s the bit that scares be to write) But, is she right for me? I’ve said this to her before and I always worry about this. Even when I wasn’t with anyone I would worry about being good enough for someone, if they were THE someone, y’know. Friends and old friends and people I know are getting married, mortgages, babies etc. I don’t know if that’s what I want. If that’s what I’m ready for. If my girlfriend is the one I want to do all this with. I don’t know, and it sucks because the last week or so this has become really prominent and I know I shouldn’t be feeling this, but I don’t know what to do. I do love her, I know that. She makes me happy. But there’s always a but or a what if. And I shouldn’t be thinking that. In my head, I think that if I’m thinking this, then that’s bad. I don’t like ambiguous things, I can’t get my head around them. And I think that’s the problem, She’s an amazing person and I really want her in my life, but do I love her? What is love? Can you quantify it? That’s the issue I’ve always had, and I’m so scared of that. Because I think I might self sabotage things if I keep down this path and I don’t want that. It’s all big and scary and I need to get this out of my head. I know I can’t avoid it forever, but I’m just going to have to for now. I can’t let this keep weighing on me. Kieran, you love her and that’s all that matters. ... Right?

AOB: moving away from the heavy stuff. Firstly, India. Fuck me that has been an experience. I am so lucky to have done that. I got to meet some amazing people, I travelled in business class and (as I have said to multiple people) I will never be able to travel with the common class again. They treat you so well. Both the flight attendants in business class and the people I became friends with in India. I got to see the Taj Mahal, and fucking hell that is one of the most incredible things I have ever seen. I’ve tried food that I never thought I would. I’ve ridden a fucking camel. I did so much and it was incredible in so many ways. Words do not do it justice. I mean, I had to work while I was out there because you know it was a business trip to help train the guys that stole our jobs, but let’s ignore that. I’ve been on my first holiday with a partner’s family. I have been to one or two or a dozen gigs. I don’t remember. I’ve walked alpacas this year. I have forgotten about my love of reading and music and I need to get back into those. I have been watching god knows how much crappy TV. I have lost a bit of passion for films, but that’s probably the adult in me being like “don’t waste money”. Fuck him. I’ve got my first solo (with girlfriend) holiday planned and that’s hella exciting (ignoring all the above). 

PLEASE NOTE: these are the thoughts of a tired and rambling Kieran, they do not necessarily reflect the views of not tired and rambling Kieran.

And I think that’s it. 2 hours later, and a year and a half of updates later, I’m signing off. If you have any questions, you know what to do. Might speak soon. Might not. Who knows? G’night all. Sleep well. xo 

[the-dj-is-asleep]

Watching From Afar

AO3

Kara remembers Del-Or. His eyes were blue, though when reflecting the red tones of Krypton’s sun they had often seemed more purple. And his hair had been brown, a deep, rich brown that made him seem royal, not that Krypton really had royalty. He’d been smart too and always willing to work with Kara on her projects as they were both fast-tracked into the science guild. Her father had liked him, her mother had liked him even more. And Kara had really liked him.

She’d been young. Young enough that she hadn’t really considered being with him, just considered the what-ifs and the maybe-somedays. But the implosion of her planet, the loss of everyone in and on it had destroyed those thoughts, those imaginings. And when Kara had arrived on Earth, a brand new planet, so different from Krypton, from everything she remembered, she hadn’t had a chance to think about it. She’d thought she’d never be able to. Humans were so… fragile.

How could she date a human when she could break bones by just holding their hand? How could she date a human when an ill-timed kiss could shatter their nose? And how could she love a human if they could never know who she really was?

At least that’s what Kara had thought back when she’d first arrived. Back when the world had been so bright and loud, back when she hadn’t been able to stop herself from tearing doors off hinges, and back when her strange speech patterns drew unfriendly eyes. But she’s better now at fitting in, at being normal. And she’s held Alex’s hand plenty of times and hasn’t hurt her. She’d hugged Eliza and kissed her cheek. It’s been years since she broke anything using super-strength (breaking things using plain old clumsiness was another story).

And now Kara is in high school. A sophomore in high school to be exact and once again she was the new kid, though for very different reasons this time. It wasn’t technically her fault Alex had been kicked out of their last school. She knows that. It’s just that… it kind of feels like it sometimes. Because Alex had punched someone, hard enough to break his nose, after he’d made some pretty obnoxious comments about Kara’s adoption. Eliza had yelled at Alex for half an hour, reminding her that violence was not the answer, but Kara had heard the proud undertone in her voice, the one that said, “thank you for watching out for your sister.”

To be honest, Kara doesn’t mind starting at a new school. Too many of the kids at her last high school had gone through middle school with her and they remembered her from before she could pass for human. They mostly ignored her now, but they remembered how weird she’d been, how out of place. And they will always see her as Alex Danvers’s weird adopted sister. Here, she can get a fresh start.

And there’s another reason she does not mind going to a new school. That reason is tall, dark, and handsome, and his name is James Olsen. He’s a year older than Kara, a year younger than Alex, and he is everyone’s favorite person. He’s funny and smart and he’s captain of the hockey team. And on top of being a generally perfect human being, he is also one of the nicest people Kara has ever met.

Not that they’ve actually met. Not really anyway. She’s seen him from afar and once he helped her pick up a book she dropped after colliding with a locker that she was sure had not been there three seconds before. And even if they did know each other, it seems unlikely that he would want to date her. She’s just… Kara. She does her best to seem unremarkable and other than her ability to lift a car, which she hides really well, she actually is pretty unremarkable. She’s not funny or cute or interesting in any way at all. And the last person James Olsen dated was Lucy Lane, who is gorgeous and funny and cute and pretty and smart and badass and Kara could go on for days. Next to Lucy Lane, Kara Danvers is nothing.

But that’s not going to stop Kara from admiring James from afar. And there’s a lot to admire. He’s tall and muscular and has a penchant for tight t-shirts, and his arms… no one should be allowed to look like that. His eyes are warm and soft but by far, Kara’s favorite part of him is his smile. Always wide, always happy, and always lighting up whatever room he is in. She could drown in that smile.

“Earth to Kara Danvers! Earth to Kara Danvers!”

Winn is cupping his hands around his mouth to make it sound like his voice is coming from a patchy radio receiver and it’s enough to jolt Kara back to reality.

“Huh?! What?”

“Could you please, for just a second, stop drooling over James Olsen over there and pretend that you actually enjoy my company?”

“I do enjoy your company,” Kara says with a jolt of guilt. She loves Winn’s company. They’d only known each other for about a month so far, but he’s her best friend in the whole world already (other than Alex of course).

“I know, I’m just messing with you,” he says with a grin. “I mean, I get it, y’know? James Olsen is… wow. I mean, a good-looking dude if I’ve ever seen one. But… this is getting painful to watch. Either you need to go and ask him out. Or you need to stop staring at him from afar and instead help me with this physics homework.”

Kara rolls her eyes, but turns a little so that her back is to James and she will no longer be tempted.

“Man, how do you do that?” Winn says, as Kara writes down three quick equations and comes up with the right answer.

“Eliza tutors me at home,” Kara replies quickly, with the age old excuse for her much too advanced understanding of science.

It’s not like she can tell Winn that she was on a fast-track to join the science guild as soon as she came of age. It’s not like she can tell him that Krypton’s science was years ahead of earth’s and that even by Kryptonian standards she was advanced for her age. She wishes she could though, because being stuck doing basic block-moving-along-a-frictionless-surface problems is getting very old.

“Too bad she can’t tutor you in history,” Winn says gleefully, recalling the only class that he’s doing better in than his friend.

(Not much better though because Winn is science-minded as well. He just has the advantage of having Earth’s history being poured into his mind since he was born. Kara a lot of catching up to do.)

“She’s a scientist. Not a historian. Anyway, it’s not like I’m failing the class.”

“Not yet anyway,” Winn mutters under his breath and yelps when Kara pinches him lightly.

Kara gets called into Mrs. Hamilton’s office after physics ends on Tuesday.

“Hello, Kara,” she says kindly.

Kara likes Mrs. Hamilton because she doesn’t get frustrated when Kara gets distracted by sounds in the background and she doesn’t force Kara to speak in class.

“I know that you’ve been helping Winn out with some of his class work,” Mrs. Hamilton says.

“I’m sorry,” Kara replies quickly. “I’m not just writing the answers for him. I explain it to him so that he understands. I was just trying to help.”

“Don’t worry, Kara. I’m not mad. Winn always does well on the tests so I know you’re not just doing his work for him. And he’s a smart boy. I’m not sure why you’re helping him at all, to be honest. But, I was just thinking that if you wanted to help students maybe you could get something out of it. I have some students who need tutoring for a few bucks an hour, if you like.”

Kara blinks in surprise.

“I, um, can I think about it? I also need to ask Eliza.”

“Of course. Take your time and let me know. I don’t want you doing this unless you’re sure.”

“I think it’s a fantastic idea, Kara,” Eliza says over dinner.

“You don’t think it could get me in trouble if I show people I’m too smart?”

Eliza lets out a little huff of amusement.

“It could get you in trouble if you were tutoring them in rocket science but unless you really go out of your way, I don’t think anyone will notice the difference. Plus, you’ve learned how to hide by now. I trust you’ll be able to keep it under wraps.”

“Ugh, but now I’ll go from having weirdo as a sister, to having a nerd as a sister,” Alex fake-whines.

“You were top of your class last year, Alex,” Kara snarks back. “I’m the one who has to put up with having a nerd for  a sister.”

Alex sticks her tongue out at Kara and Eliza rolls her eyes.

The first person Mrs. Hamilton assigns to Kara only introduces herself as Vasquez and never bothers to tell Kara of her full name. Kara tries not to be offended. She’s brusque and sharp in her mannerisms but she’s not stupid and she listens when Kara explains.

It’s frustrating at first because all of this stuff comes so naturally to Kara that having to explain it at all is exhausting. But she learns what works best for Vasquez and herself and they start to make progress.

She meets with Vasquez on Tuesdays and Thursdays after class. Then Mrs. Hamilton has Kara work with M’gann, a transfer student, on Fridays. She’s incredibly nice but very bad at physics.

“I’m good at science,” she says. “I swear. But I’m more into biology. This stuff doesn’t make sense to me.”

She and Kara end up wasting half of their session together as M’gann tells Kara all sorts of interesting biology facts. (Kara soaks them up like a sponge because earth’s creatures and their biology are different from Krypton’s and it’s all really cool.)

And then, Mrs. Hamilton asks Kara for one more favor.

“Okay, so I know this is a different situation because he’s an athlete and therefore he can’t work with you directly after school. You would have to meet either on weekends or later during the day. He says he’s happy to work with your schedule to make it work, if that’s okay.”

Kara nods immediately because she likes tutoring. Before, her afternoons after class had been largely uneventful, as she waited for Alex to get home from lacrosse practice. Also, she can see that she’s helping people and she likes that. She likes feeling useful to someone. And it gives her a chance to meet new people, which is always fun.

“I really don’t mind. I’d be happy to,” Kara says. “Um, who is it?”

“James Olsen,” Mrs. Hamilton says. “He’s a bright boy from what I understand but he doesn’t quite have a head for the sciences. You’ll need to work hard with him. He wants to do well in the class, but I’m afraid he needs more one on one attention than I can give him.”

Kara’s brain short-circuits. Attention. One on one. James Olsen.

“Kara,” Mrs. Hamilton says. “Are you okay? Will that be alright?”

“Uh, yeah… I mean, yes. Definitely. That will be fine.”

“Well then, I’ll give James your email address and he’ll get in contact with you.”

Kara nods and bids her goodbye. The moment she’s alone in the hallway, she giddily covers her face with her hands and tries not to blush.

Hey Kara,

This is James Olsen. Thank you for agreeing to tutor me. I’m free anytime after five during the week and most of the day on weekends unless it’s game day. Let me know what works best for you and we can meet up.

James

——

Hello James,

How many times would you like to meet? Any of those work for me but if you want to meet more than once a week we should spread it out. Maybe Monday and Thursday nights? Where would you like to meet? School is usually closed by five but we could meet at the library.

Kara

——

Actually, my house is only five minutes from school. Closer than the library and then I can drop my gear off so you don’t have to sit around smelling that. And Monday and Thursday is great. I think I really need a lot of help in this class.

James

——

Sounds good to me. I’ll see you Monday at 5:30?

Kara

——

Perfect!! See you then!!

James

——

Kara hasn’t breathed properly in half an hour. When she’d knocked on James’s door, he’d opened it with a smile already in place. He’d showered after hockey practice and was wearing just shorts and a tank top that put his arms openly on display. He smelled nice too, and if Kara were able to string a sentence together, she might have asked him what shampoo he uses.

She has been doing her best to stumble her through tutoring him and it’s much harder than it had been with Vasquez and M’gann, but then again neither of them had been sitting there all distractingly attractive. On the bright side, it seems that James’s only problem is visualization. He understands the concepts and the equations and when to use them. He just needs help setting up the initial force diagrams.

“Okay,” he says, as he draws the diagram for the third problem. “I think I’m getting this. How’s this look?”

“Uh… good! Mostly… you forgot the normal force again… and friction goes in the opposite direction of motion.”

James groans and slams his head down none-to-gently on the table. Kara wants to help, wishes that she could do something other than offer weak condolences.

“Don’t get frustrated. You’re already doing so much better than when we started! I mean it!!”

James lifts his head up from the table and grins at Kara and her heart trips and stutters because she’s never seen that smile (so warm and open) up so close before.

“Thanks, Kara,” he says, softly and then turns back to his work.

Kara does her best to not spontaneously combust. By the end of the hour, James’s has finished his homework and he did the last two questions mostly without Kara’s help. He slams the textbook closed triumphantly and leans back in his chair to stretch. Kara does her best not to look at where his tank-top rides up above his shorts (she fails and oh man, those abs would make Superman jealous).

“Man, it’s a lot easier to do the way you explain it,” James says. “I mean, I like Mrs. Hamilton but what she says in class makes no sense to me.”

“Different people learn differently,” Kara says, adjusting her glasses as an excuse to hide her blush. “We just had to find what worked for you.”

James’s expression shifts from gratitude into something even softer somehow.

“You’re incredible,” he says. “I mean, you don’t know how many people have tried to help me with this stuff and it took you one day.”

This time, there’s no hiding her blush.

“No… I mean, I just… It was really no big deal. You’re smart so… it’s not like… it wasn’t a problem.”

“It still means a lot to me. Um, but I don’t want to keep you past your time,” James says, suddenly flustered, jumping out of his seat. “Let me walk you to the bus stop.”

“Oh no,” Kara replies, standing. “You really don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Sorry Kara,” James says, and he grabs Kara’s bag for her and slings it over his shoulder. “My mom raised a gentleman so there’s no getting out of it. I'm walking you there and you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Kara opens her mouth again to argue but he’s already sweeping past her to grab the keys and holding the door open for her.

“I… thank you,” she says.

They walk to the bus stop in silence. Kara desperately wants to find something to say because she doesn’t want this to end now. She wants to pretend that she and James are actually friends (ideally more but she won’t kid herself) and she wants to pretend that he isn’t just being nice just like he is to everyone else. But she’s terrified of saying the wrong thing, of showing exactly how weird and not human and not worthy of his attentions she is so she bites her lip instead.

James waits with her until the bus arrives. He doesn’t try to talk and he doesn’t seem uncomfortable or awkward. Instead, he looks out over the street regarding everything that goes on around him. He watches the birds that flit overhead and the kids playing in the yard and the red card that zooms past them far too fast. His eyes seem to soak in and catalogue everything around him. It’s only when James glances over at her that Kara realizes she was staring and she quickly looks down at her feet. She’s saved from having to make something out of it as the bus pulls up along the curb.

“Thanks again for tonight,” James says, handing Kara her bag. “I’ll see you Thursday? Same time?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I’ll see you.”

Through the tinted windows of the bus, Kara watches as James stands on the corner until the bus is out of sight.

“Soooooooo,” Winn says as he slides into his seat next to Kara at lunch on Tuesday. “How was tutoring the Great James Olsen?”

“Good. He knows how to do all of it. He just needed a little help with the force diagrams.”

“I bet you helped him.”

Winn waggles his eyebrows.

“That’s… that wasn’t even funny, Winn,” Kara says in exasperation. “And like…. nothing happened. I mean, he knows I exist now, which is more than before, but nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all?” Winn seems genuinely disappointed. “No casual touching of hands? No catching each other staring? No leaning closer than necessary to talk?”

“Nothing. I mean, I’m sure he caught me staring a bunch of times but… He looked at the textbook more than he looked at me.”

“What? You’re way prettier than a textbook,” Winn says and Kara rolls her eyes at him. “Well, this was just the first time. Tutoring love stories never unfold at the first session. But you have to keep me updated okay? I am living vicariously through you right now.”

There’s not much to tell Winn at first. Every Monday and Thursday Kara goes to James’s house at 5:30. They work for an hour and then James walks her to the bus stop. James keeps getting better at physics and Kara keeps getting better at not being caught staring (at least she hopes so).

And then one day, James cancels. He sends her a text on Sunday telling her that he can’t make it on Monday but that he’ll see her on Thursday. Kara spends the rest of the evening feeling strangely empty. It only gets worse the next day when she doesn’t see James at school at all, not even sitting with his hockey team at the lunch table.

“Why wasn’t James in class today?” Winn asks Kara.

He seems to think that she has some sort of inside knowledge about him as if they’re actually friends and not just casual acquaintances.

“I don’t know. He cancelled tutoring tonight as well.”

“Weird. Maybe he’s sick.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

But the next day James seems fine. Completely healthy and happy as he messes around with the guys from his team at lunch and Kara only gets more curious. It’s strange that James would just skip school. He’s a good student and a hard-worker and it’s entirely out of character.

On Thursday, when Kara knocks, James lets her in with pleading eyes.

“This oscillation stuff makes no sense to me Kara. You have to save me,” he says. “Ugh, this is what happens when I miss one tutoring session. Everything falls apart.”

Kara laughs because she’s fairly certain that it’s not as bad as James is making it out to be. The way he grins at her tells her she’s right. Kara sits at her usual seat at the kitchen table and then turns to James.

“Can I ask why you cancelled? I noticed you weren’t in school either.”

James glances at Kara and his eyes suddenly seem dark enough to drown in.

“I-I mean, you don’t have to if it was personal or something. Gosh, I shouldn’t have asked… It’s none of my business,” Kara says.

“No, no,” James says, reaching over as if to touch Kara’s arm but stopping just short. “It’s fine, Kara. It was the anniversary of my father’s death and every year my mother and I go to visit his grave. It’s at a military cemetery about an hour and a half away so we usually make a day trip out of it.”

It’s only then that Kara realizes she’s never seen or heard James talk about his father at all. She’d crossed paths with his mother a couple times as she came in and out of the house but she had assumed that his father worked late or something. Really, she hadn’t even thought about it.

Now, she does, and she thinks about her own father. She thinks about crushing sadness. She thinks about how every day is bad, but the anniversary of the day she came to earth is the worst because the date resonates. April 15th. It’s a date that is engraved into her mind. She doesn’t skip school on that day, because she doesn’t have a grave to visit and its better if she stays busy but she can understand the desire to.

“Oh,” Kara says, and there’s nothing else she can really say.

She’s been searching for the rights words for situations like these. The ones that would make everything a little less terrible. But there aren’t any. In her experience, everything falls short. So instead, Kara reaches across the table and places her hand on top of James’s. He glances down at it and then flips his hand over so that he can squeeze Kara’s finger’s gently with his own.

“There’s not much you can say to that, is there?” James says playfully but, while his tone is light, his eyes remain firmly locked onto their joined hands and the smile he’s trying to force doesn’t quite make it to his eyes.

“Not in my experience,” Kara replies softly.

James looks up at that and his eyes are a little wet as he does.

“You’ve lost someone?” he asks.

Kara nods.

“My parents, in a fire when I was twelve,” she says, and she has to swallow down everything else that she wants to say.

Not just her parents. No, she lost her aunt, who she loved like a second mother. She lost her friends and classmates, and teachers. She lost Del-Or. She lost the sound of Kryptonian in her ears every morning and she lost the technology and the way the air always smelled slightly of sulfur. She lost the way the red sun turned everything soft shades of deep red. She lost her whole world.

But she can’t tell him that. She can’t ever tell anyone that, and even those she could tell, how would they ever understand. So she keeps it simple. She lost her parents. In a fire. It’s enough though to make James’s eyes soften with understanding and sympathy.

The moment hangs between them heavily and for a moment neither of them moves, fingers still intertwined over the table and tears gathering in their eyes as they let themselves, just for a second, feel the overwhelming crush of their loss. But then James is clearing his throat and pulling away and Kara lets him because this is not what she came for.

“So… um, wave motion,” James says. “I don’t understand it.”

Kara nods and reads over his work so far to see if she can help.

That day changes the dynamic between them somewhat. James’s eyes always soften now into something warm and familiar when they see each other and it makes Kara’s heart race each time. He says 'hi' to her in the halls now and every so often, when they catch each other with time between periods they’ll chat about their classes. He’s frighteningly easy to be around. Winn keeps encouraging her to make a move, to ask him out, to do something but Kara likes the way things are now and she’s afraid of messing it up.

Of course, that balance can’t last forever and it’s broken in the most surprising way possible. One day, a Thursday after tutoring James, Kara comes home to find Lucy Lane in her living room. She and Alex are sitting side by side hunched over a poster board with markers and glue sticks in their hands. They’re leaning together, talking under their breaths but when Kara walks in they both look up.

“Hey, how was tutoring?” Alex asks, glancing at Lucy as she does.

“Fine,” Kara replies.

She doesn’t know if Lucy knows that Kara is tutoring James. Doesn’t know how she’d feel if she did know. Technically it’s none of her business who James is being tutored by, especially after they broke up, but Kara is still nervous in the face of James’s ex-girlfriend. Even without the fact that Lucy had dated the guy Kara is interested in, Kara is pretty sure she would be nervous in front of Lucy Lane. She’s just so… perfect.

“Well, Lucy is staying for dinner, which Mom said you had to help her with when you got home. I helped last night.”

Kara nods and gives Lucy a little wave of acknowledgement. Lucy smiles back at her and waves as well. Alex snickers at the exchange and Kara darts away into the kitchen to hide her blush. Eliza is busy chopping vegetables that she hands over to Kara the moment she walks in, in favor of preparing the chicken. Kara doesn’t actually mind helping with dinner. It had taken a while before Eliza had really trusted her with a knife, not because she might hurt herself (she couldn’t) but because she when she’d first arrived she’d never been gentle enough. They had bought three different knife sets before banishing Kara from the kitchen until she got better at controlling her strength.

Now, she does much better and she likes that she’s being useful and helping out. Kara, for the longest time, had felt bad about encroaching on the Danvers’s family. She knew how much they were doing for her (how much money they were spending to keep her fed and replace the stuff she broke). She also knew that Jeremiah leaving and subsequent death could also partially be blamed on her. But whenever she tried to promise to make it up to Eliza when she was older and had a job of her own, Eliza shut her down.

“You’re family, Kara,” she’d say. “You don’t owe us anything and if you try to give me money at any point in our lives, I will not accept it.”

So Kara has stopped trying to make promises and resorted to helping out in any way she can. She knows that Eliza appreciates it after long days at work and Kara likes being able to spend time with her adoptive mother, who is kinder to her than anyone else has ever been.

“Hmm, well, that should do it,” Eliza says, putting the final touches on the meal. “Would you please call Alex and her friend?”

Kara walks into living room to see that Alex and Lucy have either finished or abandoned their project in favor of watching youtube videos or something. Kara hadn’t known that Alex and Lucy were this close, or close at all for that matter. But from the way they’re curled up on the couch together, they seem like old friends. Kara clears her throat awkwardly.

“Uh, dinner’s ready guys.”

They both look up as if surprised that she’d there in front of them but it only lasts a second before Alex is rising off the couch and practically running to the dinner table.

“I’m starving,” she says in lieu of an explanation and Lucy laughs.

They’ve barely settled down before Eliza starts asking questions. She wants to know everything about Lucy and Alex’s project, which is apparently for the US Government class they have together. Alex is well-used to her mother’s questions and she answers her promptly and easily taking care not to allow any openings that would lead to further questioning. Lucy just nods along and adds anything she can wherever it’s relevant.

Eventually though, Eliza’s attention turns to Kara.

“So, how was tutoring?”

“Good,” Kara replies. “He’s getting a lot better. Mostly doesn’t need me anymore honestly. I should probably stop taking his money.”

“That’s good to hear. But hopefully there will be other students who need your help. I can tell that you’re enjoying it.”

“I think that might have a little to do with who she’s tutoring,” Alex mutters under her breath.

From all the way across the table, Kara knows Eliza didn’t hear it. Kara wouldn’t have without her superheating. But Lucy is sitting right next to Alex and she glances over curiously.

“Who are you tutoring?” Lucy asks.

“I-I,” Kara stutters. “I’m not supposed to say. It’s confidential really. I think there have been cases in the past of bullying?”

Lucy nods politely.

“Oh, don’t be silly Kara. Lucy’s not going to bully anyone,” Alex says. “Kara’s tutoring James.”

Eliza shoots Alex a sharp look that tells her she will be getting a lecture later while Kara does her best to just… sink into the floor. She watches recognition flicker across Lucy’s features. Lucy looks at Kara closely, her green eyes darting across her face, most likely cataloguing how Kara won’t look her in the eye, how she’s blushing, how Kara reaches up and fiddles with her glasses. But thankfully, she doesn’t press.

The moment passes without Eliza noticing thankfully and they move on to talk about the conference Eliza is going to next week. After dinner, Alex is roped into cleaning up while Lucy goes back to the living room to work on their project a little more. Kara tries to sneak upstairs to her room but her foot is barely on the first step before Lucy calls out to her. A little reluctantly, Kara turns back to face her.

“You like him,” Lucy says with no preamble.

Kara wouldn’t say she knows Lucy that well, but she does know that she can be a little blunt and very forward at times.

“Who?” Kara asks, hoping that playing dumb is the right move.

“Don’t play dumb.” Okay so not the right move. “It’s okay, it doesn’t bother me. I think I’d be happy if he ended up dating you actually.”

Kara blinks because of all the ways this conversation could have gone, she could never have predicted this.

“I… what?”

Lucy sighs.

“Come here. Sit.”

Kara knows her movements are jerky and unsure but she feels like she’s walking into a proverbial lion’s den. She sits next to Lucy and doesn’t say anything.

“Everyone at school has a million and two ideas about why we broke up,” Lucy says, and she leans back as if she’s about to tell a very long story. “I know that we were, for lack of a better term, the ‘It Couple’ and that our breakup shocked a few people.”

It’s true. It had been the talk of the school when Kara had arrived though it had happened over the summer long before Kara had arrived. People kept wondering when and if they would get back together. Kara had done her best to ignore it but it was nearly impossible.

“But not many people know why we broke up. It’s nothing dramatic,” Lucy adds hastily catching Kara’s curious expression. “I mean, it’s the opposite of dramatic really. We both realized that we liked each other, a lot, but mostly as friends. I think I was dating the idea of him, y’know? The golden boy, good at everything. I thought my father would be proud if I took him home with me, he wasn’t, but I thought with my sister dating Clark Kent, maybe I could live up to her somehow. And James, it turns out, was dating me because everyone said he should. And, I mean… He liked me, but not as much as he should have I guess. And we had a really long conversation about it and we’re still friends, but I… I don’t have feelings for him anymore. So if that’s why you’re being weird, don’t worry about it.”

It’s a lot to process all at once and Kara has to sit quietly for a second. She had thought… she wasn’t sure, but it had been hard for her to imagine that James and Lucy had been a clean split after all the time they’d been together.

“Lucy!!” Alex calls from the kitchen. “Your dad’s here to pick you up!”

“One sec,” Lucy shouts back.

She gathers up her things and then looks back at Kara who is still sitting nervously on the couch.

“What I’m saying,” Lucy says, “Is that we’re still close, me and James. And we talk sometimes. And you? He talks about you a lot. You don’t have to do anything with that information. I’m just letting you know.”

And with that, Lucy walks out of the living room, leaving Kara completely stunned.

“Are you okay?” Winn asks. “Because you haven’t said a word since you sat down and it’s freaking me out a little.”

Kara fiddles with the crust of her pizza and pensively takes a bite. When she’s done chewing she looks at Winn.

“What if… What if you knew someone you liked liked you back?”

Winn’s jaw drops in pure surprise and then his lips curl up into an excited grin.

“Did James ask you out? Did he say something?”

Kara tells him about her conversation with Lucy, including her parting words. Winn listens, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

“Dude!! That’s great! That’s great news!! Gosh, you two are going to make a very attractive couple.”

“Winn!” Kara hisses emphatically. “I don’t… what am I supposed to do?”

“Ask him out!!”

“H-how?”

Winn opens his mouth, as if ready to retort and then falls silent. He scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“With words I guess? Say hey, wanna grab lunch or something? I don’t know. It’s not like I have that much experience in this…”

Kara sighs and glances over at where James is sitting with his friends. She watches him as he laughs at something they say, his white teeth glinting like a toothpaste commercial even in the fluorescent lights. And then she watches and he slowly turns to look at her. Her first instinct is to blush and turn away, but before she can, James already has, a small smile dancing at his lips. Slowly, cautiously, he turns back to look at her again, and when he finds her still watching, his smile grows and he lifts a few fingers in a wave.

“Oh my godddd,” Winn whines. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were dating already.”

Kara swats at his arm and pouts when he just laughs before breaking down and laughing with him (she can never stay serious for long around him, that’s why he’s her best friend). When she looks back at James’s table, he’s looking away.

At this point, James barely needs her help. But Kara would come even if he wasn’t paying her. (She feels a little bad that he is still paying her because he really doesn’t need to be anymore.) She loves spending time with him. Her crush on him before she’d really known him had been difficult to manage but now that she knows him better, knows how kind and smart and wonderful he is, it’s nearly impossible.

Whenever she’s around him, her fingers itch to reach out, to touch him, hold him. She wants to hug him and curl up with him on the couch to watch movies. She want so kiss him and feel him kiss her back. She finds herself staring, and since she doesn’t need to help him that much anymore, more often than not, she daydreams.

“Kara? Kara.”

Kara blinks away the images of her and James eating potstickers together and focuses instead on the way he’s looking at her with mild concern.

“You okay? I’ve been saying your name for a while,” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kara assures him, waving away his concern. “Do you need help with something?”

“Uh, no actually. I finished.”

Kara glances down at her watch to find that there’s still technically half an hour left in her session.

“Wow! That was fast!” she says.

“Uh, yeah, this week’s homework was pretty easy I guess,” James says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Silence falls heavily between them. Kara doesn’t want to leave yet. With Lucy’s words echoing in her years, she wants to believe that James doesn’t want her to leave either. Still, she’s not sure what she’s supposed to say now.

“It’s kind of weird that we don’t hang out at school,” James says suddenly. “I mean, I feel like you know more about me than most people. I haven’t told that many people about my dad and all that stuff. And I like you… I mean, I feel like we’re friends and it’s just weird that we don’t really spend time together.”

Kara blushes and shrugs.

“I mean, you’re usually with your hockey team and I’ve got my other friends I guess.”

“Right, right,” James says and he looks… disappointed.

Kara thinks about Lucy's words, the implication that James maybe liked her. The implication that her feelings weren't one sided and if she asked, James might not say no.

“Do you…” Kara says, “want to hang out some time? We could… go to a movie?”

“I would love to,” James replies and his voice and eyes are soft. “I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Are you free this weekend?”

Kara feels giddy with something that’s hard to describe and she can’t stop smiling long enough to speak so instead she just nods.

“Cool.”

“Great! Awesome!” Kara says, nearly tripping over herself as she stands to leave.

She drops her backpack twice and James laughs good naturally as he hands it back to her. As he walks her to the bus stop, Kara feels butterflies in her stomach that only get worse every time she glances up at him to see a small, content smile on his face. When he waves goodbye to her as she boards the bus, Kara thinks her heart might burst.

“Oh my god,” Alex says. “You have a date? You have a date with James Olsen and you didn’t think to tell me until fifteen minutes before you had to leave?”

“It’s not a date,” Kara says. “We’re just hanging out. And I need help picking a shirt.”

“Why do you need a fancy shirt if you’re just hanging out?” Alex says.

“Shush and just help me okay?”

Alex rolls her eyes and hands Kara a blue shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re going on a date with James Olsen and you didn’t tell me. You better give me every single detail when you get back.”

“It’s not a date, but fine, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

When James rings the doorbell, Kara nearly breaks her bed in her haste to get up. It groans under her weight and Alex shoots her a warning look. Kara hears Eliza greeting James downstairs and she gets downstairs as fast as she can so as to spare James as much parental interaction as she can. When she gets down he is standing charmingly in the doorway, politely telling Eliza what a wonderful home she has. When he catches sight of Kara though, he falls silent and his smile grows. Eliza follows his line of sight and her expression softens.

“Uh, hi Kara,” James says and, gosh, they’re just hanging out but it feels like the beginning of a date.

Alex seems to agree because she whispers under her breath so that only Kara could possible hear, “not a date my ass.” Kara really wants to say something back. Instead she blushes and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear (it’s not meant to be flirty but the moment she realizes she’s doing it, she thinks it might be).

“Hey James. Are you ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah, we don’t want to miss the movie,” he says.

“Right, yes,” Kara says.

“Be back before dinner,” Eliza reminds her. “Have fun you two.”

“I will make sure she’s home on time, Mrs. Danvers,” James says politely, making Eliza’s smile grow.

It’s not a date. It’s definitely not a date, but it feels like one when James buys Kara her ticket and a large tub of popcorn before she can protest. It feels like one when they sit next to each other, reaching into the popcorn tub at the same time. It feels like one when James leans over to whisper a comment and his breath brushes against her cheek.

They stop for ice cream afterwards and they eat as they walk through the park. James laughs as Kara talks rapidly about her favorite parts of the movie, acting scenes out with sound effects and everything. (It’s a bad habit she picked up from Winn but James seems charmed by it more than anything else.)

But eventually they finish their ice cream and everything seems to slow down. Kara doesn’t want to go home even with the promise of Eliza’s dinner waiting for her. She slows down her walk subconsciously so that she can pretend that as she slows down, time will too. James matches her without complaint until eventually, they both come to a stop.

“I had fun today,” James says.

He’s smiling a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at her. Kara ducks her head.

“I did too.”

“We should do this again,” James says. “Hang out, I mean. We don’t have to go to a movie.”

Kara nods. “I would love to.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll walk you home,” James says.

He’s about to start walking again, and Kara is flooded with panic. Today was... perfect. It was everything Kara had been dreaming of since first seeing James and she doesn't want it to end. She wants to know that after James drops her off at her house that they can do this again, and she wants to know if maybe next time i can mean something. So, with a rush of bravery (encouraged by Lucy's words) Kara steps up in front of him and shakes her head.

“Not yet,” she says. “I don’t want this to end. I... I had a lot of fun today and I don't want it to be over. James, I...”

James looks down at her and blinks slowly. His eyes dip to her lips, probably subconsciously, because they flicker right back up to her eyes. But Kara doesn't miss it, and without meaning to, she mirror's him. When her eyes dip, Kara hears his breath hitch quietly. They move at the same time, Kara pressing up onto her toes and James leaning down until their lips meet softly, gently, almost cautiously. Kara’s heart races and she can feel James’s thundering as she presses her hand against his chest for leverage. It stops being cautious when James brings his hand up to Kara’s neck, pulling her closer. He’s smiling against Kara’s lips and Kara can’t stop herself from smiling in response.

When they pull away, Kara knows her face is flushed and James’s smile is bigger than Kara’s ever seen it. It only makes her fall for him more.

“I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one who wanted to do that,” James says.

Kara ducks her head and nods though it wasn’t really a question.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” James asks. “On a real date?”

“Yes please,” Kara says.

James grins at her and leans down once more, slowly as if he’s not sure he’s allowed. Kara doesn’t hesitate to press up onto her toes.

“I should… um,” James says after pulling away. “I should get you home. But tomorrow, a date, definitely.”

Kara uses his collar to pull him down for one more kiss, “Definitely.”