#its straight up bambi eyes staring into my soul

[angelclan-souls]

good morning! still swamped with work but I wanted to share this lovely lady who I bumped into while going out to eat breakfast at 6AM

She stopped me on my tracks while I was in the middle of bringing my food in bcs her round orange eyes were so silly and captivating 🥹 I have 20+ photos of her in my gallery now

bonus pics of me struggling to get her to stay still for the photoshoot

[saturnayeon]

one

half smau, half written wc: 680

Ni-ki had felt nauseous. What did she mean those blood test were for clones? And the fact that there were more of them? He swore to himself that he was just going crazy. Clones dont exist… right? Sighing quietly, he looks over at the girl. 

Rinami Nishimura. 

She sat right next to two other girls whose faces he couldn't see. Were they clones too? He took in the way Rinami would talk to one of them, the smile slowly creeping up as her friend would say something, her hand grabbing the others. Suddenly, Rinami made eye contact with Ni-ki. However, instead of messaging him like she somehow did the other day, she leans in and whispers to her two friends as they turn to look.

Now what Ni-ki expected them to look like, he had no idea. But he was not expecting to see Heeseung and Sunoo’s faces on a womans body. Weirdly enough, there was more of them. Clones. How many more of them were there? Did all 7 of them have one? Maybe they weren't the only ones who had been cloned?

The girl with Sunoo’s face had started. She brought her hand to her face, giggling, before using the other to wave to him. While the girl with Heeseung’s face had kept a straight face, staring straight to his soul almost. Ni-ki quickly turned away, feeling his face grow hot. The Sunoo clone was definitely cute, but he couldnt think like this? That’s basically his best friend! Thoughts were cut short as Jungwon and Sunoo had sat infront of him. 

“Oh my Ni-ki, looks like you have a small fanclub starting.” Sunoo teased, hinting at the girls behind them. He rolled his eyes at Sunoo’s teasing along with Jungwon’s chuckles. “Suyeon seems to really like you.” Sunoo continues. “She’s the one that looks like me.”

Ni-ki’s face feels hot once again. Of course her name meant elegant beauty. It makes sense coming from Sunoo’s side. Deep in thought again, he had missed the gesture by Sunoo for the 3 girls to walk over. It wasnt until they were at the end of the table that he noticed. Ni-ki looked up at them. There was definitely some differences now that they were up close. Rinami had moles in different spots, Heeseung’s clone had sharper eyes, unlike the usual bambi ones, and Suyeon? Well! Ni-ki cant even start to explain her. Its no doubt that Sunoo’s visuals were unreal, but Suyeon was more then just unreal. She was… well… Ni-ki cant even put it into words. 

“Hi Yeonie, Hi Rina, Hi wonie, meet Ni-ki!” Sunoo’s voice broke Ni-ki’s thoughts once again. Suyeon smiled at the younger one. “You must be Rina’s brother, right?” Her voice had sent Ni-ki into a spiral of emotions. So sweet, so nice, so calming. He was too immersed in her that he forgot to answer her question. Rinami rolled her eyes. “Yeah, thats my brother. No clue how.”

The others all laugh as the girls sit down, Suyeon and Rinami next to Ni-ki while the other one next to Jungwon. He had later learnt that her name was Hyewon.

-

“Do you like him?” 

Suyeon turns to Yuna, confused. “Like who?” She had no idea what Yuna was talking about. The red hair girl giggles at her. “Oh your so silly,” she comments. “I’m talking about Nishimura!” 

Suyeon scoffs, rolling her eyes. “And where did you get that info from, Shin Yuna.” She eyes Yuna slowly. “Well you always talk about this Riki guy, and I know that’s Nishimura’s name,” she answers, looking back at her work. “At least… I think you were.”

Suyeon’s face goes pink, realising what Yuna was talking about. It was Takayama Riki she talked about, not Nishimura. “Ah… well no not that Riki, there’s multiple you know.” she says, shyly. Yuna thinks for a while, then realises what Suyeon meant. “Oh my god, you mean to say you like Taki?!” the giddiness in her voice was evident. Suyeon playfully hit her on the arm before listening in on the teacher.

prev | m.list | next

taglist (open) @lazy-miya

[tonystarkhasaheart]

You Know Who I am

Tony Stark X Reader

Word Count: 2,741

Summary: Y/N a stripper who has a day job at Stark Industries and her boss pays her a pretty generous visit

Author's Note: Even though this is my first fanfic it will have 4 parts, hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Part 2 is on it's way soon.

I look up at myself in the mirror, eyes heavy from the weight of my lashes, dark, smokey.. yet sensual. Lips plump and red, a deep red nothing too bright.

I take a moment to glance at the room around me, girls in and out the velvet curtain, changing clothes, spraying perfume and adding last-minute glitter. I look at my phone to check the time 12:46am.

“Hot date tonight?” I hear from my left, I don’t need to turn to see who it is, most of the girls here don’t talk to me, except for Siren. Not her real name of course, but I guess when you have a real-life outside of this you don’t want anyone to know it. I don’t blame her.

I set my phone down and look at her with a gentle smile and turn to the bag I keep under my station between rounds, pulling out my book to read. I can feel Siren’s breathe over my shoulder. “Just some light reading?” She asks.

I laugh lightly “The lightest I’ve read in a while actually.” I smile to myself as I run my fingers over the title on the cover of Quantum Physics and Theories of the Mind.

“Don’t want to spoil it for you” she said scooting back a bit with her hands up feigning surrender.

I smile again, I forgot I actually like her sense of humor “It’s okay,” I look up from the cover, “I already know the ending.”

Before any more words can be exchanged, I hear my stage name being called by the house mom. “Bambi, you’re up sweets!”

“Thank you, Cassandra!” I place my book back in its place and grab my money bag turning to Siren one last time, “Why don’t we ever hang out, outside of here?”

“Because you’re too busy being a smart ass in the real world,” Siren says with a smile.

I wink at her before walking through the velvet curtains where it is almost pitch black, except for the neon lights circulating the room and spotlights on the main stage. I scan the crowd as I listen to my heels click on my way up to the DJ booth. A number of regulars and just as many new faces but the back of one man’s head stood out. I couldn’t quite place it at the quick glance that I got, but he was sitting front and center so it wouldn’t be long before I figured it out.

A dancer by the name of Scarlett was finishing up and I gave the DJ my song. He looked and me and shook his head laughing “You never fail to surprise me” I smile and look back at the stage to see Scarlett doing her best and receiving money from plenty of customers, but she was focused on one, and he looked like he couldn’t care less. Front and center with a profile that could kill, elbow on the arm of his seat with his head in his hand and his sunglasses pointlessly resting on the bridge of his nose. And then it hit me, not only was he like the richest man alive; he was also, indirectly speaking, my boss. Tony Stark.

I had only briefly met him once after my orientation at Stark Industries, so I wasn’t worried about being recognized. It was the fact that he was the man I wanted to wake up to every morning to study his brilliant brain. Now that, that did the trick. I felt heat spread through my body starting at my core and working its way to my neck. I rubbed the back of my neck as I shook off the nerves. I got this, just another customer, just one with a lot more money than most.

As the music faded from Scarlett’s song, I watched her pick up her money and try and shove it in her bag. The DJ started talking to the crowd and hyping up Scarlett as she walked around collecting some final tips. She got on her knees in front of Mr. Stark and leaned in real close. Without a single change in his demeanor, he pulled a single bill from the inside of his suit jacket and handed it to her between his middle and index finger, as if he was trying to shoo her away. But even I could see it was a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. She looked at the bill offended and snatched it from his fingers before finishing her way around the stage. Once she was done, she passed me with a huff, practically cussing the billionaire out as she exited the stage to the back with her bag overflowing with money from the other customers. Something about being a ‘cheap micropenis douche who wouldn’t be able to appreciate a good dance if it hit him in the face. I shook my head pushing the waves of my hair over my shoulder as the DJ started to introduce me.

“If you thought Scarlett was good let the bar know and you might be able to get a private dance before she leaves tonight. But you might not want to leave just yet because next, we have our very best. A woman who can turn any type of music into your new favorite song. Here to prove it once again, the seductress herself, Bambi!”

I laugh to myself at the length of his introduction, but it’s true I like a challenge and today I picked a song that I normally wouldn’t have. “Back in Black” by AC/DC started playing and I couldn’t help but notice a certain man in the front’s ears begin to perk up at the first couple of notes. Maybe it was my eyes playing tricks on me but I swear I even saw him sit up a little straighter.

I took confident, sexy strides towards the front of the stage and swayed my hips in a circle once I got in front of the pole. I held it as I circled it scanning the crowd. I dropped my hips and rose sensual making my ass bounce to the beat before turning my back to the pole and rolling my hips. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mr. Stark lean forward in his chair hands clasped, elbows on his knees. He was invested and I wanted to give him a show.

I started to climb the pole and as I did, he slid his sunglasses off his face, looking directly into my eyes, staring deep into my soul with the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. But I knew tonight I wouldn’t get to see the pain or trauma he’s overcome through his eyes because tonight, they were filled with lust.

Lust, passion..Possession.

As I slid down the pole his eyes never left my body. I gracefully landed on the floor and crawled to the edge of the stage. I turned to lay on my back letting the waves of my hair cascade off the edge, I arched my back looking straight at him. In a swift motion, almost a blur, my view was clouded by the storm of papers falling from the sky. Now standing directly over me with his hands firmly pressed against the stage on either side of my face. As lay there on my back I realized what just happened. I just made a billionaire rain hundreds upon my body and his face hovering over mine, was him making his claim on me for the night.

I sensually brought myself back to my knees slightly rolling in the thick layer of money that covered the stage. I twirled my ass in a way I know would make anyone weak and I didn’t have to look back to know he was all in. Crawling my way back to the pole using it to stabilize myself as I try to stand, simultaneously trying not to trip on the stage that I couldn’t see anymore. Now this wasn’t my first time getting rained on at the club, however when I looked down, the most notable difference between now and any other time it’s happened was that it was normally a slew of ones, maybe some fives, occasionally a couple stray twenties. But this... was all hundreds. Strictly Benjamin’s scattered across the whole stage to the point you couldn’t see anyone else’s money that was thrown during my set. I’m definitely going to need a bigger money bag.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Three trash bags, four security guards and five songs later, I just about collected all the money Mr. Stark threw for me. Now usually, we don’t get help picking up our money, unless it’s a VIP room shared by three or more dancers. However, because of the sheer amount of money and the fact that I was the club’s best dancer, they played favorites tonight. Not to mention girls from the back started to pick up bills that had overflowed from the stage onto the floor. Even some of the customers started pocketing some of the cash and honestly, could you blame them?

I immediately gave the bags of money to our house mom so she could cash me out for the night, but as I handed her my bags she told me I had a VIP room and she would put the bags in her safe until I was done. My heart sped up a bit as I hoped it was the very generous billionaire, but what are the odds that he would get a VIP room with me right after throwing a million dollars at me, literally. Technically I could’ve turned it down, I mean I definitely made more than enough money tonight, but part of me wanted to see who it was.

I touched up my makeup, ran a brush through my hair and freshened up a bit before changing my heels to a more comfortable black pair. As I walked through the curtains to the main floor, I could see Siren on stage dancing to “Body Party” by Ciara. I took note that the front row seat was occupied by another man. My heartbeat quickened as I turned towards the VIP rooms down the hall.

The closer I got I could hear the voice I dreamed of waking up next to. I took a deep breath primped my hair and opened the door to the room. His back was turned to me as he talked into his phone. He seemed unamused and inconvenienced. I took the moment to admire his figure as he hung up, not noticing my presence yet. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, oh how I’d love to lace my fingers through those tresses, before throwing his phone at the coach.

“I heard you were looking for a private dance,” I say as I entering the room further making my presence known.

Unfazed by this discovery, he turned around with that signature smirk. All doubt and suspicions placed aside I was standing in front of the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist himself, Tony Stark.

“And I heard you were the best,” taking a step closer to me.

“Depends on who you ask,” mimicking his actions.

“I trust my sources,” he said looking me up and down “, they’ve never failed me before.”

“Once or twice is not never,” I scoffed remembering the time my team had to cover a minuscule mistake in one of the details for a new clean air prototype we were working on that could have cost the company millions because one of his “sources” said it looked good enough.

“What are you-” I cut him off, closing the distance between us and reach for his tie to play with between my fingers. The way the fabric felt between my fingers let me know it was no clip-on, job interview tie. It was probably custom-made and imported from France or something ridiculous like that.

“So are we going stand here and banter or did you want that dance. Or was that an excuse to get me alone?”

“You better watch yourself, princess”

“Oh,” I tilted my head to the side challenging his very existence “, or what?”

“You know who I am.”

“Hmm, so maybe I do, but we have rules here,” I push him back on the couch “, Sir.” I smirk before climbing on him and straddling his lap placing my hands on his chest on either side of his arc reactor. I feel him tense slightly as I touched his chest, maybe an insecurity. I scanned his eyes, easily reading everything that fed into my suspicions. He looked as if I would turn and run in fear that he was some sort of monster, at any second just because it was there. I bring one of my hands to his cheek and stroked it in reassurance, silently letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere and not just because he was paying me to be here. He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and regained his cockiness. All traces of the vulnerable moment we shared gone as I slid my hand down his neck to rest on his shoulder.

“So, it looks like I’m getting my dance after all,” he said running his hands up my thighs and resting them on my hips.

I started to roll my hips in circles, biting my lip so I wouldn’t enjoy the touch of his hands on my bare skin too much, “It would appear so.”

“What does a girl like you know about AC/DC?”

“I’m offended Mr. Stark, a girl like me?” I grabbed the hair at the base of his neck pulling lightly, tilting his head back. He groaned as I rolled my hips harder for emphasis.

“That’s not what I—fuck.”

I smiled as he squeezed his eyes shut, admiring the twisted expression his face held. I took the hand that was resting on his chest up his neck to his face running my fingers over his lips, they parted instinctively, before cupping his cheek and leaning in close to his ear whispering, “Mr. Stark I’m afraid you know nothing about me and the type of girl I am.”

His hands slid further up my waist gripping me tightly. At least I’d have a couple bruises to remember him by. He opened his eyes and for the split second I saw them, they were pitch black. He growled slightly pulling me into the most animalistic, passionate kiss I have ever shared with anyone. Quick to reciprocate, I wrapped both my arms around his neck, lacing my fingers in his hair, desperately trying to grasp on to any bit of sanity I had left. He bit my lip asking me for the permission that I granted him oh so quickly and without hesitation. He moved swiftly and his presence was so strong I was intoxicated by his scent, he was everywhere and nowhere at once, flooding my senses with everything that was him. I pulled away reluctantly needing to catch my breath. It came out in gasps, but he didn’t miss a beat sliding down to my neck feverishly, desperate to have my flesh between his lips.

“Mr. Stark,” I moaned.

“Call me Tony,” he said.

“I-I can’t,” I gasped, fighting another moan.

“Why not, princess?” barely letting his lips leave my neck even for a second, not seeming fazed by my answer. I could feel the smile on his lips, I couldn’t give in.

“I just, I can’t tell you.” Whatever spell he had me under was about to have me sleep with my boss without him even knowing he was my boss. Not that it wouldn’t be consensual but I still wouldn’t want to raise any problems at work.

He hummed against my neck and licked from the base of my throat to my ear then peppered kisses back to my lips before saying, “You’re trying to hide something from me, but I’ll figure it out.” He started to stand and I slid off of his lap still in his tight embrace. He leaned down kissing the corner of my mouth and whispered in my ear, “You know who I am,” and with that, he straightened his jacket grabbed his phone and left the room.

There I stood lipstick smudged, high off the intoxicating drug that was Anthony Edward Stark.

[mooleche]

A Tale of Ink and Venom

A/N - It’s happening! I’m reworking the old story I was working on to hopefully build a better version in its place! Multi-chapter fic involving OC x Colossus where OCs story unfolds while trying to do a heroic act that ends badly and the chaos the unfolds in the aftermath. Might do a few chapters on here and then move over to AO3 fully eventually to keep from making super long posts but we’ll see how it goes! ( *’ω’* ) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Also BIG THANKS to @leo-writer for proofreading, you are a saint ily! 

₍₍ (ง Ŏ౪Ŏ)ว ⁾⁾

Chapter One: The Video

Moments.

Buddha says that one moment can change a day, one day can change a life and one life can change the world.

I was never one for religion but I think he was onto something there. Look at heroes, for example, they’re faced with moments like these every day. Ones that will save a life and ones that will take them away the second you hesitate. Moments that will give you the upper hand if you’re lucky and others that will leave you flat on your ass if you're not.

 Or worse. 

Now, I'm no hero by any means, but I like to think that the moments I experienced today would help shape what was in store for me tomorrow. A moment that would maybe even help shape me into something more someday.

So with that, let me ask you this:

Just what moment was it that led me to witness the death of a real superhero in his time of need? And not just any run of the mill death either. I'm talking blood everywhere, in my mouth, in my hair. 

Everywhere.

How had it all gone so wrong so fast?

I suppose in order to know that we have to go to the beginning, back to the morning where my life was about to be given a serious overhaul into chaos.

Back to college.

-

It was late. Very late.

A judgemental 3:45 AM stared back at me from the corner of my laptop's screen and a sigh of defeat escaped me. The Witching hour no longer belonged to ghosts and demons, but to college students that waited until the very last minute to get their 10-page essays written before it was too late. I was no exception to this, sacrificing the last remaining brain cells I had left to crap out what I deemed a passable paper on the artists of old. 

At least that's what I had been doing. 

Now I sat with my legs drawn up to my chest as I stared with growing exhaustion at my laptop. The glowing screen was flooded with news reports of the latest superhero successes and the villains they caught around town. This wasn’t exactly an uncommon thing for a city like Brooklynn. In fact, it was because of this city being such a hot zone for criminal activity that we had things like ‘Top 10 Villain Blunders of the Week’ to begin with.

Then, strangely, my eyes spotted something that I hadn’t expected to see.

I lurched forward, immediately feeling my body protest as I inspected the article that had grabbed my attention. It was a few days old, a journalist touching base on a series of unfortunate events from almost 6 months ago. A superhero trainee under the name of Deadpool had landed himself in hot water after murdering an orderly from the Essex House for Mutant Rehabilitation in what was seen as a cold-blooded attack to the media. Just reading the name of the facility left a bad taste in my mouth, but the video it included to recount the moment made the sensation even worse.

It was old, I had watched it over a dozen times in the recent months and yet I still found myself glued to the screen with morbid curiosity. The cameraman who had been focusing on a tense-looking reporter at the scene now fumbled clumsily over to the main event, a stout looking teen who had earlier called himself Firefist. I’d give you three guesses why he called himself that but taking a look at his clenched fists answered it all too well. 

He stood separated from a cautious crowd of police and bystanders with hands that radiated heat strong enough to cause everyone surrounding him to keep their distance. That was if all the destroyed wreckage around him hadn’t given them more than enough reason to stay back already.

As many times as I had seen this, I still felt bad for him. He looked worn down and angry, but more than anything was the noticeable expression of fear he wore, like a trapped animal willing to do anything to escape. A feeling that I was once all too familiar with.

I sank back into my chair and sighed. No amount of times seeing that clip made that look any easier to see. It was one that hit so close to home and yet I couldn't pinpoint it no matter how many times I tried. I closed my eyes and listened to him continue to threaten the police ballsy enough to step towards him:

"Stay back, I'll burn you!"

The words didn't resonate, but the tone did. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a memory lurking that I couldn't quite touch no matter how hard I focused on it. A memory sealed away so tight that even thinking about it caused my thoughts to grow numb, but that panic in the boy's voice always caused it to stir. Sometimes I felt like I was close enough to grasp it, all I needed was to push a little farther-

A loud bang erupted nearby and my eyes shot open in a panic. Whatever unconscious soul searching I had been doing was broken as I scrambled to catch my headphones now threatening to fall off my face. I looked around, both frantic to find the source to the sudden noise and also hoping no one saw my embarrassing act only to be greeted with muffled laughter nearby.

"Buenos Dias, Princesa! Did I wake you?"

I rubbed my eyes haphazardly and looked to the side of the small room to find a redheaded amazonian grinning back at me from the window. To my utter surprise, the sun was now out and shining it’s smug rays straight into our dorm as I stood to greet the grinning assailant. My bones protested with various cracks in response before I shuffled to my bed and threw open the window to face her.

"That wasn’t funny, Ava! What are you even doing up so early?" I asked through an unavoidable yawn, but I already knew the answer. Ava Santana was a Dominican powerhouse of energy, a mysterious enigma that seemed to only love running, German beer and, for a few crazy months, me. When she wasn’t burning the candle at both ends to keep her insane track record and an intimidating 4.0 GPA up, she was usually creating some wild new building blueprints that she was proud to show off to you before stealing your girlfriend. 

I didn’t know how she did it all and at this point, I was too afraid to ask.

She lifted herself onto the windowsill before tossing her shoes inside, swinging her long tan legs onto my bed to join me all in one fell swoop. All I could do was blink in surprise, knowing I would have faceplanted halfway through if I even attempted this motion. Her gaze studied me curiously now. 

"We both know why I’m awake, or were you expecting someone else to carry our track team to victory?" She teased, her face close to mine with a devious smile planted on her lips. “What's your excuse though, Sleeping Beauty? Building more schematics? Spying on the police scanner? Or maybe staying up late to watch him again?”

“Me? What? Hah, no. Can’t a girl just finish her essay like a good normal college student?”

“You could...if you’re not Nina Knight,” another voice announced beside us and I turned quickly to see another familiar face smirking back at us. Her name was Bambi Banks and she was known as the bad influencer extraordinaire of our dorm when she wasn’t taking candid photos for the Daily Bugle. You thought you had a bad idea? She had 10 at the ready that would probably get you put on the Top 10 lists. Despite this, she was the best friend a girl could ever ask for. 

Even if she now held my laptop in her hands frozen on a very particular shot of the clip that caused my face to burn.

“I really was working on my essay!” I protested as I reached for it only to fall short as Bambi moved just out of my range and looked to Ava curiously.

“I don’t know, Ava. Does this look like an essay to you?”

“You’re the journalist in training, tell us what you see.”

“Well if I had to title this ‘essay’, I would say ‘10 Reasons I Want This Man to Sit on My Fac-’”

“Alright, enough! You caught me,” I protested as I made another attempt to grab the laptop and succeeded, cradling it in my arms with a frown plastered on my face. “I just wanted to hear the update on this story…It put a lot of people in hot water y’know.” I added before taking a seat back at my desk, ignoring their victorious snickers. As much as I did have ulterior motives for watching the clip I really did want to see the outcome of the nationwide fiasco. Despite both the trainee and the kid being taken to the Ice Box to be reprimanded the X-Men and mutantkind as a whole were put under fire for their actions and the remainder of the story fell to a hush to the media in the months after.

Bambi rolled her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, flecks of hot pink from her bangs peeking through her blonde locks as she gave an exasperated sigh over my earnest answer.

“I really shouldn’t be saying this but the guy that looked like he was a walking talking condom was in the right all along.”

“No bullshit? How?” I pressed, now fully taken by the sudden turn of events.

“I heard it from some guy at the Bugle. That Essex place was nasty for mutants, another conversion camp or something so the government was desperado to keep it under wraps.”

“Leave it to the government to try and kill the truth,” Ava muttered under her breath as she stood to leave, pausing to take one of my hands in hers to inspect it thoughtfully. The contrast was big between us; her hands were long and slender while mine were smaller and discolored to a sooty black at the tips. “At least this means you won’t have to hide anymore.”

I knew that she meant well but the words still caused me frown. Not many people knew that I myself was a mutant. Hell, when you lived in a society where people who weren’t old, white, or male were already frowned upon like the next bubonic plague it wasn’t something you wanted getting out. Throw a genetic mutation that gave you unusual powers into the mix and you were the plague. I was lucky to have people around me that knew and accepted me like I was normal, but the reminder still stung. 

Bambi seemed to sense this and absent-mindedly pressed the play button on the video once more as if to distract my thoughts and boy did it work. I felt my face grow warm once more as the clip played. There, once frozen on the screen had been the perfect back shot of a man sprawled over the trainee after his killer shot, a man that now stood a good few feet over everyone else as the police did the cleanup of the area.

A man covered head to toe in metal.

He went by Colossus, but his real name was Piotr Rasputin. At least this is what Google told me when I went super-sleuthing around after I saw him in action for the first time. When he wasn't saving the day with his ragtag team of heroes he taught at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Learning, a sanctuary for mutants who wanted to feel safe while honing their skills to help mold a better tomorrow. 

I had met Xavier himself years ago on my own tour of the school with my parents. He was very nice and very bald. The school itself had been created in his families estate and transformed into the bustling safe haven that it now was, when it wasn't getting blown up by the villain of the week at least. Despite this terrifying fact I was always envious of those who could attend because I had always wanted to enroll myself. The only downside was that my parents didn't want a burnt corpse for a daughter in the aftermath. How selfish.

I threw my hands up to my face and groaned. “That could have been me on his team! I could have been hot for teacher!”

“And? What’s stopping you? If you like him so much why don't you just go to the school?" Ava called from our bathroom and I groaned again.

“It doesn’t work like that. You can't just go back to that school.”

“And why not? You’re a mutant right? You wanna meet other mutants, right? Maybe get some chrome dome in the process if you get my drift,” Bambi winked. 

I glared at her in response.

It was true, I was a mutant, and maybe I did want that chrome dome. But I had tried the whole superhero vigilante thing before. 

It didn’t go well. 

An ancient proverb once said ‘You can't swim, you can't dance and you don't know karate. Face it, you're never gonna make it.’ and you know what? I stood by that. It’s why I took my very particular set of skills and decided to waste away in one of Brooklynn's most prestigious art colleges -they're words, not mine- instead. It wasn’t ideal, with a dorm that I was convinced was made for ants instead of four people with questionable living styles, but I had friends and I finally felt normal. I didn’t need to mess it up by visiting that school again.

As if reading my thoughts Bambi frowned and took one of my hands in hers, inspecting my inky black fingertips with thoughtful blue eyes.

“I know you’re deadset on having a normal life here but you have a gift, Neeners. And you deserve to be able to show the world what you can do with it.”

“Yeah, I’m really going to turn the world around with my ability to control ink,” I scoffed before taking my hand back gently and sighing. As much as I wanted to bury that side of me I did want to meet others like me, be a part of something bigger and save the day once in a while. 

This? This life was boring. But it was safe. And I needed safe.

I looked up to her and smiled softly. “I...will consider going back there, if only to pay Mr. Xavier a visit and...maybe see how the school’s doing.”

“Code for visiting Mr. heavy metal man, got it.” Bambi winked while imitating a heavy Russian accent as she moonwalked poorly out of the room. 

“You’re a terrible influence, Bam,” I called through stifled laughter before standing and stretching. As much as I hated her pep talks sometimes she was the reason I kept using my powers, keeping them as fresh as I could in case the chance ever arose to use them. Even now the schematics that Ava had so casually mentioned as a joke were tucked away under my desk to play with on a rainy day.

I must have stared at them too long because I felt Bams hand gently touch my shoulder and I jumped in surprise.

“Did you hear Ava? Your alarm is going off,” she asked softly before nodding towards my phone. She was right, the soft tune alerted the room once more before I had the chance to turn it off and blinked in surprise. 

“Sorry, my mind was somewhere else...”

“Between Professor Colossus’ thick thighs we knooow. Don’t let that mans glutes cost you your job,” Ava teased before motioning for Bambi to follow her out the door. She held back and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, don’t let our conversation from earlier freak you out. Baby steps, okay? No rush,”

“Right. Baby steps…” I whispered, my gaze falling back to my hands that I had begun wringing absentmindedly with growing anxiety. I looked back up to her and smiled. “Thanks, Bam. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” she grinned before disappearing behind the door. She was right. Friends were there to steer you onto the better path when you doubted yourself. This is what I tried to convince myself as I headed to the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead.

Now that I look back on it I was grateful for that peaceful moment of clarity between friends because after what happened later on, God was I going to need it.

[lolabean1998]

Sweet pea fanfic (Bambi part 8)

Ems heart nearly exploded as Sweet pea pulled up alongside a quiet, secluded spot facing Sweet water river, a large picnic blanket laid out next to a fallen tree, fairy lights hung above them. Sweet pea helped Em off the bike and walked over to the blanket pulling out the boxes of food from the bag he had collected at Pops. The pair sat against the log and began tucking into their curly fries and chicken wings.

“Sweet pea this is amazing, I love it.” Em gasped as she gazed happily towards the picturesque view of the river, his arm wrapped around her waist. “I cant believe you did all of this.”

“To be fair I had help.” He smiled looking at her, Em laughed leaning further into him. 

“It doesn't make it any less special, Flower.” Em reassured him, taking a sip of the strawberry milkshake that had survived the trip down there. 

“You still owe me some answers, Bambi.” Sweet pea chuckled when they had finished their meal, Em groaned rolling her eyes but turned to look at him ready for his questions any way.

“You are exceptionally persistent, has any one ever told you that?” Em teased, twirling a loose strand of blonde hair around her finger. Sweet pea laughed and lit a cigarette each for them.

“What is it you want to do when you leave school?” He asked handing Em a cigarette.

“That’s easy, grow flowers and fix bikes, basically what I do now but without school getting in the way.” Em replied taking a long drag of her cigarette and staring wishfully at the clear water ahead. Sweet pea looked down at her slightly taken back.

“So you’re telling me the straight A student studying taking extra biology, with posters of big time veterinary schools in her bedroom just wants to grow flowers and fix bikes for the rest of her life?“ Sweet pea asked raising his eyebrows “I don’t buy it try again.”

“Perceptive little shit.” Em muttered under her breath. “It doesn’t matter what I want, family comes first, we can’t afford to send both of us to college but I’ll be damned if Lily doesn’t go.” Em replied, the passion and care for her sister strong in her voice.

“You’re really willing to put your dream job aside for your sister to get hers?” Sweet pea asked thoughtfully, he wasn’t surprised at her care for her sister but at how willing she was to push her own dreams aside in order for her sister to achieve hers. “You know you can have dreams too right?” Em chuckled taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Dreams only get your hopes and your soul crushed, besides she has so much potential. She’s going places, she works so hard it’s impossible for her not too.” Em stated, a hint of hopelessness in her voice, Sweet pea pulled her close to him kissing the top of her head. “What about you Flower? What are your dreams?” Em pondered. Sweet pea sat up and looked deep into Ems eyes, a warm, smile on his face and a look in his eyes that was warm and bubbly, like he couldn’t be happier.

“My dreams already coming true Bambi.” He whispered placing a warm, gently kiss on her lips. Em felt a thousand fireworks light up in her soul, her worries and troubles blown to dust as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Sweet peas arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer, Ems hands combing through his hair, when a large rain drop planted its self on Sweet pea cheek. He laughed as an almighty down pour hit them like a wave.

“Hey Bambi, I think maybe we should take this inside.” He chuckled picking her up and carrying her bridal style to his bike, gently placing her down and helping her with her helmet. “I’ll message Fangs and get him to sort this, you need to get inside before you freeze.” Sweet pea said taking his jacket off and helping Em into it, zipping her snuggly inside. He climbed onto his bike after messaging Fangs and started the engine, Ems arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled before speeding off towards his trailer, for once in a long time Sweet pea couldn't be happier, he felt as if his life was complete.

They reached the trailer and Sweet pea insisted on carrying Em bridal style up the stairs to his front door, his mum was to consumed in her latest boyfriend to bother hanging around so he had the trailer to himself. He placed Em on the sofa before heading into his room and fetching a blanket and dry clothes for her to change into.

“I’m sorry about this, I should’ve checked the weather. I’ll make it up to you I promise Bambi.” Sweet pea apologised after the pair had changed into something warmer and Em had wiped away the make up that had began running down her face. She wandered over to where he was stood in the kitchen, making them a cup of hot chocolate each and held his face in her hands looking into his dark eyes.

“Sweet pea tonight was perfect. Are you seriously apologising for the weather?” Em cooed, she smiled before wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The couple curled up together on the sofa, wrapped up in a thick blanket, drinking hot chocolate and laughing happily as they watched Blackadder. 

“Hey Bambi, if you don’t want to get into college, why do you work so hard to get perfect score and keep your record clean?” Sweet pea asked curiously, pulling her further into his warm chest. Em was caught out, she had never thought of her reasons, she had been so focused on getting her sister through and keeping her record clean she hadn't considered the state of her own. 

“I like to keep off the radar,” she shrugged casually, “Straight A’s mean I can help Lily with her homework and get her into a good college. I suppose if my records clean it means more people will be willing to hire me.” 

“Bambi, your record isn't clean, it’s spotless and you’ve worked for over half the town I don't think I've come across some one that wouldn’t hire you. Have you ever considered the possibility that you might also be able to get out of this dump?” Sweet pea questioned, it annoyed him that she couldn’t see her own potential.

“Flower, my life is here, I’m happy here. I have my jobs, my family, my friends but most importantly,” Em sat up and straddled Sweet pea, staring deep into his eyes, “I, Have, You.” she kissed him passionately, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his hair.

Em rode into school the next morning on the back of Sweet pea’s bike, he had woken up early to give her a hand with her paper round before giving her a lift into school. They strolled through the front doors side by side laughing about their unfortunate weather the night before. Toni and Lily were stood by their lockers talking to Fangs when they saw the peculiar expression on the pairs face.

“Em are you... Smiling?!” Lily exclaimed staring at her sisters blissful expression.

“Jeez Pea I didn’t think you were capable of showing such emotion.” Toni stated mockingly. Fangs laughed and gave him a playful dig in the ribs.

“You two had sex didn’t you?” He asked raising a suspicious eyebrow. Em and Sweet pea both swing at Fangs, Em smacking him round the back of the head whilst Pea punched his arm.

“Never on a first date you putts, do I look like a one night stand to you?” Em questioned frowning at Fangs before cracking into a grin. Reggie walked past as she spoke and paused to say something, Em felt his stare resting on her shoulders. She spun round giving him an ice cold glare. “Something you wish to say, Snail?” she spat coldly. The surrounding Serpents turned to glare at him folding their arms threateningly, Sweet pea moved to rest his arm possessively on her shoulders. Reggie shook his head, a blank expression on his face.

“Just wanted to say... Good race yesterday, nice to have some decent competition.” He replied avoiding direct eye contact with any of them. Em smiled sweetly in response to his compliment.

“Good, we should do it more often then.” She grinned before turning back to her friends. Sweet pea scowled at her comment, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of Em and Reggie becoming track buddies. 

“Cheer up Flower, there’s a reason his nickname is Snail and not slow coach.” she smiled kissing his cheek before heading to class.

“Don’t forget to meet up with Jughead at lunch!” Toni called before Em darted up the stairs taking them two at a time. Em waved in acknowledgement of their meeting at lunch. Toni threw an arm around Lily squeezing her shoulder. “Don’t worry Lily pad, your coming to. your one of us now tattoo or not.”

“What did she mean by that? There’s a reason he’s called Snail not slow coach.” Sweet pea asked as he walked Lily to her lesson, Lily smiled and rolled her eyes pausing to look at him placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Em hates Snails.” she answered before disappearing into class. Pea’s face lit up when he realised what she meant, he spent the rest of the day thinking about how carefully Em had chosen the nicknames she gave people. ~She hates snails, but she loves Flowers, she been calling me Flower for years. ~ the thought stayed at the front of his mind, making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else and he couldn't help but grin like an idiot. 

Masterlist

[justcallmeasmodeus]

The Nightmare

Sorry it’s a day late @aintthatwhywegotlivers

I channeled @sadlittlenerdking for this one.

WARNING: Major Character Death

Margo walked the empty halls of the cottage. Had she been thinking, she would have seen the signs of a nightmare, but she hadn’t been. She had gone to bed happy and content, and normally that was enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

Lately they hadn’t been happening as often, but what they lacked in volume they made up for in sheer terror.

She walked quietly, looking for Eliot. The longer it took her to find him, the more frantically she searched. Her heart was pounding, and her palms were starting to sweat. He was the one thing she actually cared about; she couldn’t lose him. She would die for him.

She ran outside, the air frigid against her exposed skin. She called for him; worried she had been left behind. She saw a group of people in the distance, and she made her way over to them despite the fact she was trudging through half a foot of snow in a sheer nightgown in the middle of the night.

Her limbs felt frozen by the time that she made it to the group, but they were standing around a fire that was giving off minimal warmth. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized that she recognized the people around her: they were her friends. Penny, Quentin, and Alice made a half circle on the other side of the fire, silently staring at her with hungry eyes.

“Hey guys, have you seen Eliot?” Margo could barely force the words out of her trembling lips.

“There’s my Bambi.” Eliot stepped into the light of the fire from between Penny and Quentin, his face unreadable and his voice hard and flat.

“Eliot?” Margo stepped toward him and he stepped away.

“Don’t touch me you diseased wretch.” Eliot spit in her direction, and the other three pointed at Margo and laughed.

“What are you talking about Eliot?” Margo whimpered, tears beginning to leave cold tracks on her cheeks.

“You know what I’m talking about Margo. Or maybe we should ask Eliza?”

Out from between Penny and Quentin stepped a young girl with long straight black hair, and deathly white skin. She was wearing a white nightgown and her head was down.

“No Eliot, please don’t do this.”

“What? Don’t you recognize Eliza?”

“Eliot I was different then please.” Margo stepped toward Eliot again, but he stepped back and she fell to her knees in the snow.

“Every day you reminded her how imperfect she was. How ugly, how broken, how undeserving. You are the one who pushed her to do it Margo. You were her friend Margo.”

“I’m s-s-sorry.” Margo was crying and shaking so hard, she could barely force any sound from between her lips.

“What’s to say you won’t do this to all of your friends? Is no one safe?”

Eliza looked up at Margo, her dead black eyes locking with Margo’s. A red line of chewed flesh flapped in the winter breeze on her neck, and a serrated steak knife spilled ruby droplets on the fresh blanket of snow.

“I trusted you with my life, and look what you did with it.” Eliza’s mouth didn’t move, but she spoke just the same. Margo looked down at the ground, ashamed. “You put on the good girl show. Make sure that your look is flawless, wear that nonchalance like an evening gown. The less you care about people the less they can hurt you right?”

“Eliza please, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well Margo, sorry isn’t good enough. Do you know what you are Margo? You are a phony.” As she said the words Alice gurgled and dropped to the ground, the snow around her neck slowly turning scarlet. “You are a lie.” Penny was next, his head snapping backwards as a spray of blood shot across the night while he crumpled to the ground. “You are broken.” Quentin cried out, reaching towards Margo for help, realization washing over his eyes only to be dimmed by death as he fell on top of Alice.

“Please, don’t hurt Eliot. I’ll do anything.”

“Why should I spare him?”

“Because I love him.”

“You don’t deserve to love anyone.”

Margo screamed as panic covered Eliot’s eyes and he reached for her. This time when he spoke his normal voice was back.

“Margo?” Eliza snapped her fingers and Eliot fell to his knees in front of Margo.

“No!” She screamed, feeling her throat crack from the cold. “What did you do?”

“Nothing more than what you did to me.”

“Eliot!” Margo screamed, trying to crawl over to him while Eliza held her back. He reached out and clutched her wrist with a bloody hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but blood only oozed out of his lips.

“You… did… this.” He managed to choke out, his blood spittle burning where it hit Margo in the face. She watched the light die in his eyes, feeling her heart and soul die with it. He was the only one that she cared about, and he died because of her.

“Eliot!” Margo sat up in bed, her heart threatening to pound its way out of her chest. She tossed and turned frantically, her eyes unfocused. She fought against Eliza’s grip, only stopping when she heard Eliot’s voice in the distance.

“Hey Bambi…” His voice was low and soothing, as if he was talking to a wild animal.

Margo blinked, and the snowy landscape slowly disappeared and was replaced by her familiar bedroom walls. Eliza’s grip turned out to just be her bedding tangled up in her legs.

She worked her legs out, getting up to stumble over to him. She threw her arms around his neck in a death grip, clutching fistfuls of his silk pajamas so hard that she could feel her nails biting half-moons into her palms.

Eliot wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head as he picked her up and carried her back to bed. She trembled against him, still feeling the bitter cold of the winter night and the burning of his blood on her face. She listen to the rhythm of his heart beat, and focused on his breathing.

She worked to match her breathing with his, eventually releasing her death grip on his shirt as the warmth of his skin chased away the chill of the nightmare. She felt him let her go, and she fell back onto her pillows on her bed.

“Comfortable?” Eliot murmured against her head.

Margo nodded, still not trusting herself not to scream if she opened her mouth.

“There we go.” He ran his fingers through her hair, lulling her back to tranquility. “Relax, no one can hurt you.”

But he was wrong. Anyone could hurt her, just by hurting him. Hurting him would destroy her, more than she already destroyed herself.

Eliot stood up and remade her bed with ease. He hesitated at the side of her bed, and she patted the bed next to her. She could almost feel his smile in the dark as he slid underneath the covers next to her. He pulled her close to him and kissed the top of her head.

He was asleep within minutes, but Margo knew that no more sleep would come to her tonight. Every time she closed her eyes the image of Eliot’s blood splattered across the ground burned into her mind. Instead she placed a hand on Eliot’s chest, calmed by the beat of his heart against her hand as she kept a watch for black eyes in a pale face.

[waldos-writing]

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 11

Father Barkley

Alright, it was stupid. It was stupid and fun and it was so much fun but it was stupid. It was. He admitted that. Didn’t mean he was not going to spoon her in that cramped twin bed. Because that’s what a gentleman does after like, shit, what? Hours and hours of practice. Right? I mean, people still counted sex in rounds, in turns. One-Love. Five-six. Whatever. He hadn’t done anything since…but it still counted. Holy balls the girl was a demon and he enjoyed her tricks.

He was buried in her long black hair and he didn’t even mind it. She was texting with his phone, furious little words spit out from her thumbs. She had a fire bug up her butt about this whole tower thing and he liked her energy. It felt good. It just felt nice and he hated that he liked it and he hated that he thought about it too much. He always did. If anything, it didn’t really matter, in the scheme of things.

“Wanna know why?” she used to say.

“Why?” he’d croon back at her, face in her red hair, intoxicated on perfume and gin.

“You’re a speck,” she used to say and he’d nod and tell her to go on. “You’re a speck in a sea of people on a spinning marble in a giant solar system in a clusterfuck of stars you or I or the guy next door couldn’t name or imagine in its completion, in a void that doesn’t even reach our own eyeballs at night and you think if I stepped out into traffic tomorrow that it would change the world?”

“Well,” he’d say, slowly coming out of the fog of hair and sex. “Well, probably change whoever hit you.”

Devon hated when Cherry did that. She liked to ramble and he liked to go with it right up until she started being cavalier about suicide. He tried. He was very good at talking her out of it when she was really messed up. But if she was casual about it, like she was after sex, and she put her head on his chest and occasionally drew words on his stomach with her fingernails, then he’d have to be casual too. He’d try. He’d always try.

“It would raise their rates at least. Might even put them in jail.”

“Yeah. Bet it’d screw with their family too.”

“Bet it would.”

This was a common scene. It was best because he could wind himself around Cherry and she was calm and hot and peaceful. He remembered that this was when they had just purchased the house, the one Devon said he’d build a fence around and fix up the kitchen sometime. Maybe he’d put in new shutters before winter. There was something about the light through those yellowed, filmy windows and that rough beige carpet. It was theirs. They’d earned it begging people to buy her art and his records from his shitty little band and the radio gig in Montpelier, before he moved over to Yellow Yowl Entertainment. It was all theirs and they could walk around naked, eat fruit roll-ups and vodka for breakfast, shower five times a day or once a week and crush neat little lines of oxycodone along the ceramic sink. They could fold origami cranes from grocery receipts and smoke some of the meth they’d stolen from their recently dead neighbor and drink sugary smoothies and cry at Bambi every night. Whatever they wanted. It was theirs.

“Do they do funerals at night?” she asked as she kissed the bright red lines scratched into his chest. Her hair, which was once as red and vibrant as her namesake, had brown roots and split ends. The curls were all frizz, a mess of burnt straw. He brushed it gently out of her eyes. Her bruised, bloodshot eyes that were covered in week-old makeup, smeared with a fresh coat in the morning when he went off to work. She spread it into practiced smoky lines. Her weary beauty made his stomach bubble with delight. “I mean, like, ones under full moons or no moon or whatever.”

“I don’t know,” he answered, feeling that old metal coil of fear corkscrew through his guts. Why was it always funerals?

“You’d think you could, like, really see the soul float up then. I bet if you did one of those barbarian things, those Viking funeral things where you push the body out on the sea and light it on fire. Oh my god, the spark coming off that and the smoke billowing up. Watch it go up to the stars to dance forever. Learn all the names of all the faces looking down on us. ‘Kings of our past.’ Why does that sound familiar? ‘Kings of our past.’ What’s that from?”

“I don’t know, babe. Little Mermaid or something.”

“Something. Yeah. Yeah, I wonder what their faces would look like, don’t you? You know, they’ve been fire for so long; can they even have a face? Do you just, no, listen, do you go up in smoke right away? Or they give you some time to drift around. I want to see them drifting. Blurry faces squirming of everyone below you. Or maybe, maybe, babe, maybe they’re like stone. You think we look like statues to all the ghosts? I’d think springtime would be good. Mist spools up from the ground, like all the ghosts are coming together. Big orgy of spirits, you know? Makes it look like they’re dancing.”

“Right, love,” he said and kissed her over her eyebrow. “Mist in the morning. Speaking of which, I’ve got to be at the station in an hour and you’re up at Sal’s today, right?”

“It’s Wednesday already?”

“Wednesday already,” he answered. “Look, we got a gig at Feuermann’s tonight. You promise me to go to Sal’s, please.”

“Oh, he’s just going to say I need to go back on those pills”

“He will.”

“They make my tummy hurt.”

“I know.” Devon scrubbed her leg, making the pale white skin red and alive. “Also said you gotta take them with food. Go with me to the grocery later, okay? Promise me and I’ll buy you the whole bar if you like.”

“Nah,” she said, reaching for his hand. He gave it to her, just so she could nibble on his thumb. “I like to watch you play with a clear head. Hand me my vest over there. And make some toast? No butter!”

And that’s how it was. Months like that, years even. Where did it all go?

 “I don’t know how you got me to agree to this,” whispered Devon, staring down at the giant monkey wrench in his hand. “And where the hell did you even get this?”

“Brother’s a mechanic,” said Declan. He was over a control panel, tapping part of a screen and sucking in his cheeks only to puff them out and do it again. “Hit that.”

“Hit what?” Devon hissed. His heart was hammering so hard he was afraid he was going to choke on it when it exploded. “I don’t want to hit anything. Oh my god, I’ll just hit you. I’ll hit you and I’ll run and they won’t even find me except for the piss trail I leave behind me oh my god, is that an alarm? Holy shit, that’s an alarm. We gotta go. We gotta go, holy shit, that’s an alarm. I’m going to drop this. I’m just going to set this down here—”

“Pause.”

“Did you just—”

Declan swiveled in the chair that was left in front of a large, closet-sized control panel. Little red lights blinked behind him, a panel of orange lit buttons to his left and too many wheels and gears and pipes to his right. The whole thing looked fake. It thrummed like a cheap television set. Declan, with his black hoodie, his long dreadlocks, his patchy beard, looked like a harmless villain. He even tented his fingers in thought.

A moment stretched as something buzzed persistently behind Declan on the vido screen. It was counting down, probably alerting someone far away and Devon was sure they were about to be pounced upon by a fleet of Black Jackets. They were going to bust in and decapitate them with a flick of their wrists.

“You want some water?” Declan asked.

“Water? What the actual literal entire fuck is your issue. Water! Why the f—”

Declan snapped his fingers and reached down into his old duct-tape duffel bag. True to word, he pulled out a water bottle, clear, glittering with the alarm lights. He held it out as an offering and just before Devon took it, he raised his hand. The alarm on the screen stopped. A green light overtook the control panels. Security was shut off and whoever had been alerted was given a short message of “false alarm.”

Devon stood taller, watching the door and the vido screen. His heart was still going, but he sighed, feigned a little satisfaction and relief. He said, “You did it.”

“Yeah. So, water?”

“Sure.”

Devon reached out and again Declan pulled it back. He said, “I gotta be straight.”

“Okay,” said Devon slowly.

“It’s drugged.”

“It’s—”

“Drugged. Yeah. Here.”

“I don’t want it if it’s drugged!” Devon almost slapped the water bottle out of Declan’s hand, but Declan was quick and snapped it back. “What the hell!”

“Anti-anxiety,” said Declan as he stood. He pressed the bottle into Devon’s chest, and tapped him twice on the shoulder. “Mostly. Thought I’d ask this time.”

Devon held onto the bottle. Anti-anxiety, huh? No rhyme or reason to it, but he started to untwist the cap and just as he was about to sniff the water and convince himself whether he was going to drink it or not, the words clicked. “Wait…this time?”

Declan did not have time to defend himself as Alice burst through the thick steel hatch. She had on a black stocking cap, black skintight shirt and pants, sweater, boots, socks, lipstick, eyeshadow, underwear. Whole outfit of “I’ve seen this in movies and I think I can get away with espionage and wreak havoc” that was not nearly practical enough in the cold night air but damn if she didn’t look fine as red wine.

“It worked?” she asked, for some reason breathless.

“Worked,” Declan answered.

“Worked how what worked?” asked Devon. “What’s it doing?”

Devon chucked the drugged bottle of water against the wall. It bounced, the plastic making a soft “pap” sound before the water erupted out of the opening. An arc splashed the floor in an anticlimactic protest of aggression.

“You should have had that,” said Declan.

“‘You should have meh mlah mah,’” said Devon in a nasally mimic.

“He’s having a bad time.”

“Fucking right I am!”

“Dev,” said Alice and touched his arm. He was pulled out of his useless tantrum. “What’s wrong?”

And it was a simple question. It was. She just asked it, casual like that, touched his arm, casual like that. She’d come out of the shadows with her warm buttery skin and dark oily hair from days without shower. She kept it tied behind her small ears, out of her eyes. Kohl eyes, big lovely eyebrows. Mustard Alice. She was so not Cherry, it punched him in the gut.

“Dev?” she asked.

So what did it matter that her band partner was going to drug him or maybe had done it before. The bar, the egg. This was the usual for good old Declan. Alright, so it wasn’t that bad. They were illegally inside a CleanAire tower and basically dismantling it. Devon tried another big breath to see if it calmed his heartbeat. It didn’t, but he pretended that it did.

“Nothing,” he said at last. He tried to sound convincing. He was good, you know, because he was in radio. “What’re we doing?”

“Fucking shit up,” said Alice, her cheeks dimpled, her eyes sparkling in the low green light of the control panels. “Ready?”

Devon eyed the kid and the bottle on the floor. What did he say? He said he was going to stick to Declan’s side. He was going to follow Alice because he was head-over-heals for her. Devon felt old and stupid, but he wiped one hand on his pant leg and then the other so he had a good grip on the wrench.

“Born for it, baby,” he said, and lifted the wrench high over his head.

Devon wanted to say more. He used to have such a way with words, he did, and he knew there was a lot of terribleness coming that he wanted to speak to. Instead, he hoisted his weapon up high and brought it down on the electrical equipment like he was smiting Sin. Sparks shot up. There was a jolt along his forearms, maybe a literal shock mixed with the reverb. Alice shrieked some fantastic battle cry and knocked a big rubber mallet into a panel next to her. Declan wheeled out of the area, watching calm and cool from the back. He had a toolbox with him and he whistled as he went up the stairs to the filtration center, returning later with grease stains and a new metal pipe. Devon picked up his wrench to ruin the next piece of equipment.

It was stupid. It was stupid and fun and painful, but it was stupid. It was. Of course he admitted that. Devon whooped victory as Mustard Alice kicked her big boot through the projection panel for the vido screen. They might be caught and they might not. When she smiled a big wild grin over at him, Devon breathed. It was stupid. He was in love again.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter