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#my theory is that she's gonna be the one to help rusty break out of her programming. they were both lacking that same core trait
lover-of-skellies · 3 years
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Song prompt with Connie?
Alrighty broseph, here ya go. I dunno if this really counts as horror, but hey. It's got angst at least, I guess
It's been a while since I've done any writing prompts like this, so I might be a little rusty ^^" gonna offer a tiny warning for nonconsensual kissing in the first part, and then character death toward the end
The song(s) that I used as prompts were "Bloody Mary" by Lady Gaga and "No Hero" by JT music
"Listen to me, Connie. Please. I'm not lying to you."
Conquest shook her head, her sockets wide in horror as she stared at the demon's outstretched hand. In his palm was a single black apple, and as he took one step closer to her, she took one step back. The demon let out a deep sigh, "Just eat the damn apple, will you? You desperately wanted everything to be perfect again, and this is how you'll get that. This apple will fix everything for you, all you have to do is eat it." Connie shook her head again, meeting his bright blue gaze, "No, I can't. I know what they really do, Othni. Retribution already told me about them, and I can't do this." Othni made a face, his tail flicking behind him in irritation, "Fine. Allow me to lend you a hand, then."
The rider stared at him in shock as he lifted the apple and took a bite of it. Before she even had the chance to run, brilliant blue magic pooled at her feet, and they felt as though they'd become rooted to the ground. Othni closed the distance between them, raising a clawed hand to firmly grip her jaw. As he leaned down, orange tinted tears began to prick at her sockets. The demon pressed his lips to her teeth and her sockets widened further. Conquest gripped his shoulders, her grip almost becoming painful as she squirmed and tried to push him away. His hand slid from her jaw to the back of her head, holding her in place, and she began to tremble, letting out a muffled sob as the chunk of black apple was pushed into her mouth.
Othni pulled back, narrowing his eyes at her when she refused to chew the mouthful of apple. He dug his claws into the back of her skull and she whimpered, still trembling as he hissed, "Eat it. If you don't start chewing, I'm going to break open your skull." She very hesitantly began to chew, visibly shaking as she watched the demon. Othni stared at her as she chewed, and when she stopped, he hummed, "Did you swallow it?" She nodded quietly, and his gaze hardened, "Prove it. Open your mouth so I can see that there's nothing in there." The rider opened her mouth as instructed and he peered inside, "...Good, it looks like you did. Now we can move on to bite number two." Her eye lights constricted in fear and she began to plead with him, "Please, don't make me do this! I don't want anymore! I don't want this, Othni, please st-"
He shoved the apple partially into her mouth, effectively silencing her. More blue magic gripped her wrists to keep her from resisting, and she shook as he covered her nose, murmuring lowly, "If you want to breathe, you'll start eating." Orange tears dripped down her face and she sobbed, sinking her teeth into the fruit.
Sleeping soundly in bed beside Geno, Death was oblivious to the shift in the atmosphere. There was an odd creak here and there, but the house was old, so the sound wasn't of any concern. Slowly stirring, Geno yawned and climbed out of bed, making his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. He grabbed a glass and held it under the sink, filling it halfway before shutting the water off. Turning to exit the kitchen with his drink, Geno froze, letting out a startled sound at the sight of a figure standing in the doorway. He drew in a shaky breath and tried to calm himself, "Death?... What are you doing out of bed? It's really late..." When there was no reply, he frowned, ".....Hello?"
A set of eyes opened, but only one golden-orange eye light could be seen. Recognizing the color, he furrowed his brow bones, ".....Connie? What are you-?" Behind her, a set of bright blue eyes opened, their owner noticeably taller than the rider. Geno took a slow step back, "Connie, what's going on?" Still shrouded by darkness behind Conquest, Othni purred, "I apologize, but she's not the Connie you knew... Not anymore, at least." Geno's frown deepened and he eyed the rider, setting his glass of water on the counter, "Connie, if you can hear me, I need you to say something." Finally responding, she let out a deep sigh, "What is there to say, Geno? You betrayed my trust and took Death from me, and that's that."
He blinked in surprise, "But... I thought things were ok with us now. What happened that changed that?" She tilted her head, her tone almost bored as a set of four tendrils sprouted from her back, "Nothing. I'm sick of having to talk to you every day, and just looking at you pisses me off. I should never have introduced you to Death." Geno stared at the tentacles in shock, unsure what to do. Othni hummed, "You should dispose of him before he tries to get in your way again. If you let him go, he'll only be a problem later on." Conquest made a sound in acknowledgment, "I know. I don't recall ever asking for your input though, Othni." The demon's content, vaguely amused expression shifted into one of confusion. What was going on? He'd done what he was supposed to, and he was told that she wouldn't give him any problems.
Geno swallowed the slowly forming lump in his false throat; Conquest was his friend. He had no idea what to do about her. He could try to fight her off, but he didn't want to hurt her. If he did too much damage, he could risk killing her. If she died, what was he supposed to tell Death? She began to walk toward him and he backed up. He could... Try to run, maybe? If he could wake up Death, then the situation might get back under control. As if Conquest could tell what he was thinking of doing, she hummed, her voice an octave or two lower than normal, "Don't tell me you're thinking of running from me, Geno. Surely I'm not THAT scary." Geno sputtered for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, "N-Nah, you're not scary. I just... Let me go get Death, and the two of you can-" "Don't." He yelped as a tentacle shot forward, curling around his neck. As he struggled to get free, she scowled, "I will face him when I'm ready. At the moment, I need to deal with you."
He stumbled over his words, desperately trying to breathe as the tendril tightened little by little. As Conquest stepped out into the light, Geno's socket widened and he froze. He took in her now goop covered form, the golden-orange tinted sludge covering one of her eyes. Atop her head sat a crown, likely the one that Retribution carried for a while. Her single eye light remained fixed on him and he shook; With the state she was in and the way she was looking at him, she gave 'fear' a whole new meaning. Conquest tilted her head in consideration, "Let's see... I could snap your neck. I could break your ribs and then shatter your soul though, too. Which one do you think I should do?"
Othni perked up, slinking across the kitchen and taking his place beside her, "I vote for whichever is more painful." Conquest slowly shifted her gaze and looked up at him, almost growling in annoyance, "Did I ask you, Othni? No. I was asking him. Bother me again and you'll be next." The demon was momentarily taken aback, "You can't be serious. As if you'd ever do that to me!" She narrowed her visible socket, a second tentacle coiling around his throat and squeezing, "Do you really want to test that theory right now? Because I'm getting tired of you always trying to worm your way into things that don't concern you." He growled, beginning to claw at the tendril, "I made you what you are, you stupid monster!" She glared at him, "Maybe so, but keep in mind, I told you NO. Now do us all a favor and fuck off before I actually kill you."
He fell silent and scowled at her, and she turned her attention back to Geno. In a last ditch effort to get free from her tendril's grasp, he relinquished control of his body, allowing Error to take over. The glitch immediately reached for his sockets and Connie arched a brow bone in amusement, a third tentacle catching his wrists with ease. Error glared and snarled, "Let me go, you disgusting anomaly!" She rolled her eye light, "How about no?" The black skeleton's body glitched, and in that split second, he slipped his hands out of her hold. His hands flew upward to his face and he produced a multitude of blue threads, which quickly ensnared the corrupted rider. She cried out in surprise, and then hissed, narrowing her socket again, "If you really want to fight, then so be it. That's all you worthless glitches understand, anyway."
The tentacle that held Othni suddenly snapped forward, and he yelped, finding himself sailing toward the glitch. Error's threads went to work and ensnared the demon as well, and he cursed, stepping aside as another tentacle shot toward him. He bound it in blue threads, his body jerking as the corrupted rider began hysterically sobbing, her speech incoherent. He furrowed his brow bones in confusion, and then froze as he noticed Death standing in the doorway, his eyes wide in shock as he took in the sight before him. The reaper glanced at Error, taking in his uninjured form and choosing to go to Conquest, who continued sobbing.
Death cautiously approached her, taking in her new appearance, "Connie? What happened to you?!" She shook her head and cried, "Othni forced me to eat a black apple, and I turned into this. I came here to see if you could help me, and then I got attacked by Error!" The reaper glanced in Error's direction again, "Error, you need to let go of her." Error frowned and hesitated, "I can't! She's lying, Death! I'm only fighting her because she attacked Geno first!" Death's voice gained a sharp edge that caused Error to flinch, "Error, I'm asking you to let her go. Fucking do it already! We need to make sure she's not hurt!" The glitch reluctantly loosened his threads, and the instant her tentacles were free, her sobbing came to an immediate halt. One tendril shot toward the glitch again, and Death's eyes widened as it broke through the glitch's ribs. Error's eyes widened as well, as he began to glitch, looking down at his hand and watching in fear as it began to slowly fade. Rather than dust, scattered zeros and ones floated around it, and Death immediately understood.
He looked at Connie, tears in his eyes as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" The corrupted rider looked up at him, her eye light constricting as she burst into laughter. When he didn't receive an answer, he backed away from her, summoning his scythe. Her tentacles captured his arms and neck, tightening until his grip on the scythe loosened and it clattered to the floor. He was dragged back toward her as she stood, and she sighed, reaching out to touch his face, "I did what had to be done. You came along and stole my heart, and then you got me pregnant, decided after a little while that you didn't want me anymore. Then to top it off, you left me for Geno, who was my FRIEND. I tolerated the pain because I loved you, but as of right now, I'm done playing nice. You played games with me, so now it's my turn to play games with you." The reaper stared at her, sky blue tears beginning to drip down his face, "Connie... He didn't have to die. Neither of them did."
She hummed, "No, I don't think you understand. They DID. Now they're finally out of the way." He tried to blink back more tears, his voice soft, "...What do you want from me? What'll it take to make you stop?" All traces of her amusement vanished and her grip on his face tightened, "I'm glad you asked... I want some apologies from you for all the pain you caused me, and I want you to admit how pathetic and useless you are. As soon as you do those things for me, I'll do something for you." He furrowed his brow bones, "Like what?..." The corrupted rider offered him a twisted grin, the warped happiness not quite reaching her gaze, "Well, you always complained about not being able to die and experience reincarnation, so I plan to fix that little problem. You do what I asked, I kill you, and then I take over your team. It's as simple as that."
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geralehane · 3 years
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in any world you find me (and i you) 
Lexa groans and struggles to sit up, rapidly blinking as she slowly comes to it. A quick mental check up lets her know nothing is broken – at least, nothing vital. She groans again as she rolls her head back and forth, gingerly, and reaches to unfasten her seatbelt with numb fingers.
Clarke, she thinks and barely stops herself from springing to her feet. She’ll be no use if she hurts herself. Slowly standing up, she makes her way to her co-pilot, and almost collapses with relief when she sees her chest rise up and down. Alive. She’s alive.
or, Lexa and Clarke meet their doppelgängers because multiverse. that's it, that's the fic.
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Lexa groans and struggles to sit up, rapidly blinking as she slowly comes to it. A quick mental check up lets her know nothing is broken – at least, nothing vital. She groans again as she rolls her head back and forth, gingerly, and reaches to unfasten her seatbelt with numb fingers.
Clarke, she thinks and barely stops herself from springing to her feet. She’ll be no use if she hurts herself. Slowly standing up, she makes her way to her co-pilot, and almost collapses with relief when she sees her chest rise up and down. Alive. She’s alive.
She brushes Clarke’s blonde hair away from her face, selfishly allowing herself several precious seconds of quiet adoration before gently shaking her shoulder. She grins when Clarke lets out a groan similar to hers as she wakes up, long lashes fluttering before revealing hazy blue eyes.
“Lexa,” she rasps, confused. Then, her eyes widen as she remembers the crash. “Oh fuck. Are you okay?”
Lexa silently orders her heart to calm down. Of course Clarke would be worried about her friend. “Yes. I’m fine. Are you?”
Clarke nods. “I think so. What the fuck was that?”
“Orion? Orion, are you there?” Raven’s voice crackles through the radio, and Lexa coughs before telling the spacecraft’s system to connect.
“Jester is on,” the depersonalized voice of the ship lets her know, and Lexa coughs again before speaking.
“Hey, Raven,” she croaks out, foregoing formal speak. It’s not like they need it in the first place. They are essentially space pirates, for Christ’s sake. “We’re here.”
“Jesus fuck, Lexa,” her friend breathes out on the other end, sounding half-relieved and half-furious. “What happened to you guys? You went off radar. I was ready to jump after you but--”
“Which would have been a suicide,” Lexa points out. She sighs as she slowly stands up and looks around. The ship didn’t get too banged up on the inside. No visible cracks as far she can see, but she needs a thorough examination before she can come to any conclusion. “We encountered a -- vortex, of sorts. Got sucked in. I don’t know where we are right now. Probably landed on a nearby planet.”
“You’re not hearing me,” Raven says, sounding increasingly irritated. And worried. “You went off radar. As in, I don’t see you anywhere in the Universe. I was ready to jump after you before it happened. Now, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to find you.”  
“Uh.” Lexa blinks. “What?”
“Rae,” Clarke’s standing up, now, too, and her eyes are as wide as Lexa’s. “Are you trying to tell us we’re – what? In another Universe?”
“I built the map myself,” Raven says, sounding unusually solemn. “You know what it runs on. The Eye doesn’t lie and doesn’t make mistakes.” She lets out a slow, disbelieving breath. “And it doesn’t see you now.”
Lexa and Clarke exchange an alarmed glance. “But that’s impossible,” Lexa says. It’s more to convince herself than to counter Raven’s argument. The Life Crystal that they stole for Raven several years ago that she dubbed The Eye isn’t called that for nothing. It can detect any form of life in any corner of the Universe, cyborgs included. Or, apparently, almost any corner of the Universe.
“Maybe the planet we’re on has some sort of magnetic shield that doesn’t let The Eye see us,” Lexa proposes as her mind quickly works out any possible solution to this.
“Well, it might, but if it does, there’s a high chance it might be poisonous to you guys,” Raven points out. “Wherever you are, though… I’m so fucking happy you’re alive,” her voice cracks with emotion she’s clearly trying to suppress. “For a second, I thought…”
“We’re fine,” Lexa says, softly. “We’re not on your plane of existence, apparently, but we’re fine.” She moved her jaw from side to side, thinking. “I’m surprised you got through. So the signal reaches us, but not The Eye?”
“That’s not even Twilight zone level of fuckery,” Raven confirms. “I have no idea how that’s possible.”
“I propose we explore where we are,” Clarke pipes up. She’s rubbing her forehead, and Lexa tries to ignore the sharp pang of concern in her chest. They’ll deal with this a little later. “Let’s send JD outside to get the air sample.”
“Probably the best thing you can do,” Raven tells them. “I’ll try to figure something out on my end. We’re working on getting you back, guys. Just sit tight.”
“Not much else to do,” Lexa snorts to herself. Still, she appreciates Raven’s enthusiasm and her willingness to help. “We’re gonna get JD ready and survey any possible damages to the ship. Keep you posted.”
“Alright. Talk to you soon.” With that, Raven disconnects, and they are left staring at each other in what promises to soon become very awkward silence.
“Alright, well, I’ll go--”
“I’m sorry I kissed you.” Clarke’s eyes widen after she blurts that out, cutting Lexa off and causing her to splutter with surprised embarrassment. She wasn’t sure they’d ever bring it up. It was – a sour of the moment thing, or so she’s told herself. They were full of adrenaline, being chased by the Feds, fired at left and right. It honestly felt more like an act of desperation. Something to feel even more alive and revved up. Clarke’s bright eyes met hers, and next thing she knew, their mouths crashed together before Clarke pushed her in her chair and jumped into hers, buckling up and flipping the lightspeed switch.  
Lexa frowns. Lightspeed. They travelled at lightspeed without giving the ship clear directions, and it took them to the vortex – and now they are here. That is a vital piece of information that they definitely should have disclosed to Raven.
And they will once she gets her mouth to work and replies to an expectant Clarke. “Uh.” So far, so good. “Why?” Clarke begins to frown, and she hurries to correct herself. “I mean – I’m not sorry you did.”
“Oh.” Clarke’s voice is small, unsure. “But – you’re the Commander. And I’m – me.”
Lexa gives her a muted smile. “Are you worried about violating the Code of Conduct? Because last time I checked we didn’t have any. Since, you know. We’re intergalactic criminals and stuff.”
“I was thinking more of Robin Hood and his Merry Men kind of thing,” Clarke says. A tentative smile blooms on her lips, and Lexa wants nothing more than to kiss it until it grows and spills into laughter. Maybe she’ll actually get to do that. “It’s not about any Code. I just – I kind of ambushed you without checking if you’re okay with it.”
“Tell you what,” she says, grinning. “You can ambush me any time you want. Because truth be told, I’ve wanted to do the same pretty much ever since we’ve met, but I, too, was worried about… ambushing.”
“Oh. Oh-kay,” Clarke nods to herself, like an diligent student. “Ambushing is on the table. Good to know.”
“Yeah. And -- oof!” She’s noticed that sometimes Clarke is too quick to act on things. Right now, however, she doesn’t mind.
When they break apart, it’s slow, with neither willing to let go just yet. “Duty calls,” Clarke whispers, regret coloring her voice. Lexa chuckles.
“That, and I really wanna get out of here so we can do this more.”
Clarke’s beautiful when she blushes, she decides.
***
JD, their rusty but trusty robot that’s especially beloved by Raven due to being one of her first successful projects, beeps readily when Lexa finishes programming him to get the air and ground sample. He whirs as he turns around himself and wheels into the small hallway. Lexa waits till he gets in there and shuts the door, ensuring the ship’s sealed and foreign air won’t get in. Then, she pulls the lever to open the external hatch. Most of the things around the ship have to be done manually, but that’s what she loves about it. She specifically didn’t let Raven tinker with the system, only allowing her to install the navigation. Everything else, she can manage just fine.
They split up and quickly check the ship for any damages while JD is at work. Aside from a few dents, it’s not too bad. Yet, the attempt to take off fails.
“Must be something outside,” Clarke notes apprehensively. “I hope it’s not the engines.”
“What else could it be?” Lexa states more than asks. Clarke shrugs.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’re just stuck.” She shrugs again when Lexa throws her a look. “What? Just trying to keep the morale up.”
“I appreciate your efforts,” Lexa deadpans, but that doesn’t work, because Clarke only grins and pecks her lips. If that’s how it’s gonna be from now on, well – she’s at peace with that.
JD comes back in twenty minutes and brings a curious discovery with him. Apparently, the atmosphere outside is identical to that of the Earth. Clarke and Lexa glance at each other, bewildered.
“That’s next to impossible,” Lexa voices what they’re both thinking. Her co-pilot hums, thoughtful.
“But not impossible,” she points out. “Congratulations, babe – we might be the living proof of string theory.”
She can’t resist. “Babe?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow. Clarke scoffs, failing to hide her blush.
“Shut up.”
“Make me,” she teases.
“Not the time, but maybe later,” Clarke fires right back, a lopsided grin playing on her lips. “Also I can’t believe you’re flirting with me when we’re standing on the verge of the most important scientific discovery.”
“Do you really think we’re in a parallel universe?”
She watches as Clarke bites her lip, clearly excited. “What else could this be?”
“Well,” she stands taller and straightens her leather jacket, feeling determined. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”
***
They jump out of the ship, blasters ready. Lexa inhales the air, frowning. “Smells like spring,” she says quietly, and Clarke hums in silent, astonished agreement.
She doesn’t know what she expects to see once they climb out, but that’s not it. The scenery is rather dull. It reminds her of those old sci-fi movies from the last century. And of the Grand Canyon from the inside. Sand and rocks and occasional shallow caves.
It’s the caves that have her worried. She immediately recalls everything she knows about space parasites, and shudders at the thought of contacting one. They are definitely not going in there. They’re not going anywhere, period. Lexa decides then and there that they’ll check the ship, fix whatever it is that doesn’t let them take off, and get the hell out of here.
Clarke, however, clearly has other plans. “Lex,” she whispers urgently, nudging her with her surprisingly sharp elbow. “There’s someone in there. Looks human.” And points at one of the caves when Lexa glances at her.
Fantastic. She sghs and comes to stand in front of Clarke, looking her in the eyes. “You’re probably imagining things,” she tells her calmly. “We’re worked up, it makes sense. Let’s fix out ship and go home.”
But, as it often happens, Clarke doesn’t listen. “There!” she quietly exclaims, looking over Lexa’s shoulder. “It’s a girl. A human girl. What if she needs help? What if she’s hurt?”
“We don’t help, Clarke,” Lexa says lowly. She tries her hardest not to sound threatening,, but she’s not sure she succeeds.
Blue eyes meet hers, defiant. “Except you helped each and every one of us,” she says, almost accusingly. “If it weren’t for you, half the crew would be dead in a drug den on the outskirts of the Leo Cluster.” She pauses, gauging Lexa’s reaction, and nods, clearly satisfied with what she sees. “She could be in danger. Maybe she got here the same way we did.”
“Escaping the Feds?” Lexa snorts. “All the more reason to stay away from her.”
“Fine.” Clarke raises her chin, and Lexa groans inwardly, because she knows what’s coming. “Stay here and fix the ship. I’ll go to her.”
“Yeah, I will allow that to happen,” Lexa deadpans, and tightens her grip on her blaster. “Stay close to me and don’t hesitate to shoot. Remember shapeshifters from CG18?”
Clarke shudders involuntary. “Roger that. A kid tries to bite my hand off, I shoot.”
“Good.”
***
Not only Clarke doesn’t shoot – she doesn’t let Lexa do that, either. Granted, there are no bloodthirsty children involved this time, but this can’t be normal. Lexa’s more than convinced those are closely related to CG18 bastards. Have to be same species. Because how else would she explain meeting their doppelgangers?
“Lexa, wait!” Clarke cries out, grabbing her hand with the blaster just as another Clarke dives at another Lexa, shielding her from them.
“What the fuck,” she sighs, annoyed. “I thought we had a deal.”
“Shooting ourselves wasn’t the deal,” Clarke states indignantly.
“Are you hearing yourse—they are not us!”
“Lexa,” Clarke slowly, loudly breathes out through her nose. She’s more than willing to bet that she’s counting to five in her head. “We’re operating under the assumption that we ended up in a parallel universe. Which, if it’s true, means that there are parallel versions of us.”
“We’re not from here,” Clarke – another Clarke – pipes up, then. She looks as close to fainting as Lexa feels, and her blue eyes, so familiar yet foreign, are wide with astonishment as she looks between them. “We have no idea how we ended up here, or what here even is.” She gulps as her gaze falls down to the blaster in Lexa’s hand. “Look, we’re totally harmless. I’m still in high school, I mean – come on,” she chuckles nervously. Lexa – the other Lexa – blinks at her before glancing at them.
“Yeah,” she says. “Um – could we stand up?”
Her Clarke gives her a look that’s both begging and warning, and she sighs, lowering the blaster. “Fine. Get up. Slowly.” The others nod and hastily scramble to their feet. Now that she has the chance to really look at them, she notes how young they are. They can’t be older than eighteen. Her gaze stays on the other Lexa a bit longer.
She definitely wasn’t this scrawny when she was eighteen.
The other Clarke is probably thinking the same thing, because right now she’s looking between her and the Lexa she came with, and her eyes are sparkling with curiosity and, dare she say, appraisal.
Her Clarke sighs. “Cut it out,” she tells her younger copy. “Focus. How did you get here?”
“We don’t know,” the other Lexa speaks up. She finishes methodically dusting herself off and fixes her buttoned up shirt. Lexa rolls her eyes when she notices her Clarke’s gaze soften. Now who needs to focus? “We were in my room, and then there was this swirly thing--”
“A vortex,” the Other Clarke helpfully supplies, making the Other Lexa sigh.
“Whatever. Point is, we got sucked in and now we’re here.”
“Well, what were you doing before the vortex appeared?”
Both the Other Clarke and the Other Lexa blush, and Lexa thinks she has a hunch. “Pretty sure there were tongues involved,” she murmurs to her Clarke, turning to her and lowering her voice. “Also pretty sure they’re not gonna tell you about it.”
“We were -- studying,” the Other Clarke says meekly. Lexa sighs as she feels a headache approaching.
“I’m still not convinced you’re not some type of space parasites,” she tells them warningly.
“I swear we’re not,” the Other Clarke says. “So, is this like – Mars, or something? Are you guys astronauts?”
Lexa lets out a dark chuckle. “Do I look like astronaut?”
“Not really, no.”
It’s during that awkward lull in the conversation that a blinding flash of light sends them scattering for cover. Lexa grabs the Others and shoves them behind her as she points her blaster forward, discouraged because she can’t exactly see what she should be pointing it at.
Just as quickly as it appeared, however, the light disappears with a loud clap. In its wake, two bodies are left rolling on the floor, familiar groans making Lexa sigh. She’s the first to stand up and slowly approach the newcomers.
“Let me guess,” she says, offering her hand to a new Clarke and helping her up before doing the same with the new Lexa. “You got sucked in a vortex.”
“Yeah,” the New Clarke says, awed. “And I did not expect to end up in Heaven.” Her bright gaze dims somewhat when she looks around and sees the other versions of herself next to different versions of Lexa. “Oh,” she says, sounding mildly disappointed. “Okay. I can work with that.”
“I wish I didn’t know what you’re thinking about,” Lexa tells her sincerely before glancing at the New Lexa. She’s older than the Other, much closer to her own age, and much more confident, too, as she meets her gaze with her own steely one. She takes an extra second to appreciate the dark blue suit. Raven would probably make fun of her for a month if she ever wore something like that, but damn if it didn’t look good.
She doesn’t even flinch when the light flashes again.
***
All in all, they end up with three pairs of the copies, excluding themselves. Lexa doesn’t quite know what else to call them, but she’s wise enough to keep that to herself. She’s still not convinced this isn’t a parasite playing tricks on their minds.
“This is probably mass psychosis, or something,” Kid Lexa mumbles to Kid Clarke, whose eyes flash with fear. “I don’t think we’re even here, physically. It’s one big hallucination.”
Lexa hates to admit that she’s a little hurt by that. No one’s ever called her a hallucination before.
“I feel pretty real,” Corporate Clarke – Lexa’s not proud of the nickname, but it seems the most fitting considering her and her Lexa’s outfits – says, frowning. “Can’t say the same about all of this.” Her eyes meet Lexa’s, and she hurries to avert her gaze, blushing. Lexa guesses she was still dazed from the vortex experience when she unabashedly flirted with her earlier. She sighs.
“Maybe you know what’s going on?” She addresses Lexa the Scientist, and immediately cringes at the name. Sounds like a cartoon character. But, given the situation they’ve found themselves in, maybe they are all exactly that. This is too surreal to be a part of real life.
Scientist Lexa nervously straightens her glasses, and Lexa barely refrains from grimacing at that. She does not do nervous. “Well -- if we don’t settle for the mass psychosis theory…” Kid Lexa perks up at that, but Lexa shakes her head, and she deflates. “Um, we could be at the intersection of several parallel universes. The vortex is a portal of sorts.”
“Really helpful,” Lexa scoffs.
Clarke places a hand on her arm, giving her a pointed look. “Be nice,” she warns softly.
“I have to remember that,” Corporate Clarke murmurs. Her Lexa shoots her a quick smirk in spite of her tense posture. She clears her throat, then, gathering everyone’s attention.
(Lexa can’t help but be amused by Kid Clarke’s blush whenever she glances Corporate Lexa’s way. She really needs to find herself a suit, if only to test a theory.)
“While I am, no doubt, as interested in the inner workings of the Universe as all of you,” she says, calmly, “I am more interested in getting back to my universe first. Any ideas how we can make that happen?”
Lexa inwardly groans. She can’t believe that in some universe, she’s the type of a person they rob and make fun of on a regular basis. She’s never been more thankful for Reyes’s absence, because that’s not something she would’ve ever lived down.
She quickly considers renaming Corporate Lexa to Rich Jerk Lexa, but ultimately decides against it. That’s the level of self-hatred she hasn’t mastered. “Would we be standing here with you if we had any?” she settles on replying. Corporate Lexa’s green eyes narrow at that. It’s barely noticeable to any outside observer, but she knows herself, and she knows she’s irritated.
“We will employ your services if the answer turns out to be brute force,” she lets her know. Lexa sighs, mildly disappointed. That was way too obvious. Not on the level she’s expected.
“Yeah, I’m the muscle, what a low blow,” she deadpans. “Luckily, we do have the brain.”
Everyone, aside from Corporate Lexa who’s eyeing her now, turns their expectant gazes to Scientist Lexa. She swallows. “Well, uh – I don’t really know how to get back to our respective universes. But I also d-don’t really think we need to do anything in order to go back.”
Lexa quietly implodes when she doesn’t continue. “Oh, my God, can you just tell us why?”
“Hey, chill out,” Kid Clarke demands and she suppresses the urge to throw her hands up in air and walk away. But because it’s Clarke – young, bratty version of her, but still her – she doesn’t.
And because it’s Lexa she’s just snapped at, her Clarke throws her a disapproving look, leaving her feeling both warm and frustrated. She’s ready for all of this to be over.
“She can speak for herself,” Scientist Clarke speaks up, then, giving Kid Clarke a dirty look. “But also – you do need to chill,” she tells Lexa next.
Lexa only shakes her head.” Are you seriously jealous of yourself?”
“Well, aren’t you?” Corporate Lexa chooses this moment to snidely ask, and Lexa thinks about her Clarke trying not to look too much in her direction and grinds her teeth together.
“How do we send your asses back.” She states, trying not to glare at Scientist Lexa, whose adorable fiddling with glasses and the sleeves of her cardigan must’ve awoke the soft side of all Clarkes, because they all collectively frown at her harsh tone.
Maybe she can convince her Clarke this is the space parasite after all, when she’s done killing them.
“Well,” Scientist Lexa starts, increasingly more nervous, “I don’t know if it’s the same in all of the universes, but in ours, there’s been a discovery recently. We proved the string theory.”
“What do you mean we?” Lexa demands. There’s a coiling deep in her stomach that she does not like. At all.
“Um,” Scientist Lexa glances at her Clarke, who hugs herself. “We as in her and I.”
Lexa can practically hear the thoughts flashing through Corporate Lexa’s head. Mainly because she’s having those same ones as well. “Tell me,” she murmurs as she slowly stalks to Scientist Lexa, “that this isn’t a part of your research paper.”
“No, oh, no!” Scientist Lexa shakes her head, eyes wide with fear. “I had nothing to do with this. I just – have a hunch about the reason we’re here. Like I said, we’re at the intersection of the universes. It could be that the universes summon an identical part of themselves here in order to continue functioning. It could be something as trivial as stones, or something as… not trivial as people.”
“Why would they need to do that?” Kid Lexa asks, confused. Lexa can’t blame her.
Scientist Clarke shakes her head. “You don’t want to get into that. Especially since, if we’re right, we will all go back to our own universes any second now.”
“Our memories will probably fade, too,” her Lexa points out. “So write everything down now if you want to remember any of this.”
“I’d rather not,” Lexa quips, making each Clarke chuckle. Well. She’ll miss that, at least.
“If anyone ever wanted to make out with themselves, now’s the time, just saying,” Kid Clarke jokes. Or – Lexa’s not entirely sure she was just joking. Kid Lexa immediately blushes. Lexa only sighs with sympathy. She remembers those teenage hormones all too well.
“Alright,” she says loudly, interrupting the sudden chatter. “This has been bizarre. Nice meeting you. We should go,” she tells Clarke, who gives her a dumbfounded stare.
“We’re not going to see them off?”
“Why can’t they see us off first?” Lexa tries to argue. When Clarke doesn’t budge, she sighs. “Look, I’d rather be on our ship when we get thrown back. What if we end up back where we started, and not on our home planet?”
“Oh,” Scientist Lexa speaks up, concerned. “You will absolutely go back to the point where you got picked up. So if that was somewhere in space, I’d at least consider wearing a spacesuit.” That little shit, Lexa thinks with sudden, adoring amusement. Which feels weird, since it’s essentially herself she’s thinking about, so this is basically emotional masturbation.
She shakes her head. “Right. Thanks.” Clarke’s hesitant gaze meets her own determined one. “We gotta get back to the ship. You heard them. We could get sucked in any second now.”
“Okay,” Clarke relents, then. She throws one last look at the group of their doppelgangers, who watch them with a mix of awe and sadness Lexa’s not ready to admit she’s feeling as well. “Um. Good luck with -- everything. Have great lives, guys.”
“You, too!” Kid Clarke beams, waving. “Can I just say – I love how everyone’s ignoring the fact that we end up together in every universe.”
“Fate is a pretty heavy burden,” she hears Scientist Lexa quietly reply before she ushers Clarke away, and they jog to their ship.
Once they climb inside, no one speaks for several seconds. JD beeps at their arrival, and the system lets them know Raven’s tried to contact them twice – Lexa immediately feels bad, because their friend is probably worried sick. “Oh, damn,” she says, then, disappointed. “We didn’t ask them if they knew Raven.”
“I hope they do,” Clarke says, chuckling. “We didn’t ask a lot of things, you know.”
“I was a little busy trying to make sure we made it out alive,” Lexa points out. She feels a little silly for pouting, but now that they are back to the safety of their ship and their survival isn’t at stake anymore, her curiosity decides to wake up and drive her up the wall. How long have all of them been together? Are any of them married or about to get married? Do they live together? When did they meet? She sighs, shaking her head in defeat. Some questions just aren’t meant to have answers. But those could’ve if it weren’t for her constant worrying and—
“Stop,” Clarke demands, jostling her out of her musings. “I can see you beating yourself up. Stop. You went with your gut and focused on the important thing. Surviving. If it did turn out to be the parasite or a violent shapeshifter, you would’ve been prepared, unlike me. That’s why you’re the Commander. That’s why…” she trails off, then, and Lexa admires the pretty pink dusted across her cheekbones.
She swallows and reaches out, gently brushing Clarke’s hair behind her air. “Fate really is a heavy burden, isn’t it?” she says softly. Clarke’s lips curl in a small smile under her thumb.
“Not when it’s shared,” she whispers. Her lips taste like dust and warmth and spring, and Lexa happily allows herself to disappear in it, if only for a mere moment.
“Lexa,” Raven’s urgent voice makes them break apart, but they do so slowly, savoring each other’s taste. “Please tell me you’re there.”
She doesn’t look away from Clarke’s sparkling eyes as she replies. “Rae. We’re here, we just got back. Will tell you everything once we get out of here.”
“Not to crush your hopes and dreams, but you sound mighty confident that you will get out of there,” Raven jokes darkly. “As in, I have no fucking idea how to reach you. I still don’t know where you are.”
Lexa lifts the blinds up, and sure enough, the vortex is there, right in front of them, and getting closer by the second. She smirks. “Doesn’t matter. See you soon, Reyes.”
“I hope you haven’t gone insane,” Raven says cautiously, and they laugh.
“We’re of sound mind,” Clarke reassures her. “And we’ll leave the same way we ended up here – through a vortex.”
“A vortex? What the fuck?”
“Exactly. Don’t worry, it’s harmless.” Lexa blinks as she realizes that they probably won’t remember any of this once they are back to their universe. She looks up to find Clarke’s eyes, and reads the same thought in them.
“Mute us.” The system complies, and Raven’s line goes dead for the time being. “Should we tell her?”
Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. The vortex is almost there. “We could. But what would it change? We’re space pirates. No one actually able to do something with our discovery will believe us.”
“Right.” She squeezes her hand as they stare into the swirling void before them. “If we remember – we tell her. If we don’t…”
“…then we live,” Clarke concludes for her. In her blue eyes, Lexa sees all the universes they’ve lived in. “Then, we live.”
She thinks she can work with that. And then, they disappear.
78 notes · View notes
murmursdraconic · 2 years
Note
(for whoever)
"Arrite. Here's how this's gonna go, yeah?"
The chair was hard wood, the restraints tight; probably tighter than what was safe for proper blood flow, but Bruto didn't care. He'd had people slip out before, and it wasn't going to happen again. Not this time. He wasn't gonna fuck it up again.
Back to them, facing a table as he set out his tools, he continued talking.
"I'm gonna ask you a question, and you're gonna answer. If you don't answer, or you gimme one I don't like, I'm gonna give ya a cool new scar. Ya dig?"
Accompanying his little speech was the quick rev of a drill, then a clatter as he set it down, spun, and approached the chair.
Taking ahold of the duct tape, harshly ripping it from their lips. Dropping it to the floor, settling into his own chair facing backwards as he got closer.
"What's yer name and what were you doin'?"
/@claenr
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She stared. She didn't move.
Shay didn't know where she was, or who this Ursaring of a man was. If looks could kill, this man would have been a pile of ashes on the floor. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to get her anywhere. Her fingers flexed on the end of the chair, testing how tight the duct tape was. She could only flex her wrists around a bit.
She did not let this man out of her sight. The tools were the sign of a professional, or someone with too much time on their hands. She wasn't going to test which one of those theories was correct. Dealing with dangerous entities that could manipulate the very matter of reality was one thing. Dealing with human monsters was another.
Cool new scar? He's either terrible at being threatening or phrasing it like that on purpose.
Shay wasn't sure what she was more enraged at; being caught in this situation, or having to play nice with someone who was going to get teeth around their throat if a certain someone of hers found out. Either way, she was stuck.
Breaths were even and slow, one to help keep her from saying something that would no doubt get her a 'cool new scar', and also to take in the smells. Musty, rusty, dark and dank. Industrial adhesive... old wood... Remember everything she could... take in all the details. Stare long, blink fast, and remember.
Get the oxygen to your head and think smarter, Shay.
Her neck stiffened, hardly moving when her muzzle was removed. Her lip stung, skin breaking in the corner from some dryness she had yet to address. She let the blood be.
Most people would be terrified. Most people should, but Shay had a specific fear response when it came to humans: pure anger. It wasn't her finest quality, but she wasn't about to go get herself killed because some of her brain cells were beating the primal pots and pans together.
It also helped that Shay had a metaphorical ticking time bomb in a ball if things went south, wherever she was. Benefits of training exceptionally dangerous Pokemon with a Mama Bear complex.
Begrudging cooperation and biting her tongue back, Shay looked at whoever her assumed captor was for a long moment, her cold expression refusing to budge.
This guy could have found my ID, so there issn't time to gamble on a fake name. Keeping it short, and to the point, and not asking questions... just keep it to the base truths. Don't over complicate your answers.
"Shay." An answer, short and curt. "Bushcraft survival drills."
Chalk this up to the worst camping trip ever.
@claenr
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adrianasunderworld · 4 years
Text
Leon x female!Reader
Meet the neighbor
***
  He was so eager to be home. Leon had not been back in ages, Hop had probably shot up like a weed since last he saw him. Before he had left Wyndon on the train, Hop had talked his ear off over the phone about how raising his Wooloo was going, and went on and on about his friend ___. Ever since Leon had moved out a few years ago ,a new family had taken up residence shortly after, and Hop had become fast friends with their kids, a brother and sister.  
    Leon always chuckled when Hop rambled about sister. He would always bring up how good she was with pokemon and how nice she was, and of course how pretty she was. It was adorable how obvious his crush on the neighbor was, but chose not to comment on it. 
  It wasn't long after he got off the train that the towns people crowded around him. He of course smiled and greeted them, but around the back of the crowd he saw a familiar face wave and call out, "Lee! Lee!" Hop jumped with glee as his brother greeted him. 
     He hugged his younger brother and saw a boy stand awkwardly and wave. This must have been one of his neighbor friends. "You must be Victor!" 
    The boy nodded and grinned. "Yep! It's nice to finally meet you, Hop has told me so much about you."
    "And he's told all about you and your sister," Leon looked around but there was sign of a girl with them. "Did she not come with you?"
    Victor shook his head. "No, she was helping mum with the garden. She should be done soon though." 
    "You're gonna really like ___, Lee. She's a pretty strong trainer too."
    That caught his attention. He couldn't recall many details, but he didn't remember either of them having pokemon. Oh well, he was sure the three of them would still appreciate the ones he brought.
    As Leon walked with the boys down route 1, he saw an espeon sit on the stone fence of the property across from theres. It was almost unnerving how it seemed to stare right through him. But neither boy seemed bothered as they walked closer. The pokemon eventually hopped down and walked with them, Victor reached down and patted it in the head. 
   Victor and the espeon ran to the front steps of his house and called out, "Sis, were back! Get out of the mud already!"
   "Back already?" Called out a female voice. Followed by footsteps. The source of it was most definitely not a fourteen year old girl like he had expected. Instead it was a young woman much closer in age to him than Hop. The espeon ran up to her and affectionately nudged her leg. She grinned at both boys before her eyes settled on Leon. "And you're back with company no less."
    "You must be ___," Leon said ,holding in his surprise. "Hop has told so much about you." 
   ___ smiled as she walked down the steps and pulled off her gardening gloves to offer her hand. "And Hop always talks about you. Good to meet the famous champion." 
    Leon felt his face warm as he shook her hand. Despite all the dirt smudged on her face, her eyes were bright and smile warm. Hop had not exaggerated how pretty she was. He cleared his throat. "You're pretty famous yourself the way Hop talks about you."
   "Oh really?" She looked over at Hop, who had a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Talking smack are we?"
    "Of course not!" Hop defended before turning to his brother. "Wait, Lee! Didn't you say you had a surprise for us?" 
  Leon nodded and gestured for them to follow him to their house. 
   "Come on, __" Victor called out to his sister, who only laughed as she trailed behind.
   Leon released the small pokemon from their balls, and smiled in amusement as Hop and Victor gawked in excitement as the young starters ran around the yard. 
   "So we get to pick one?" Victor asked, his eyes bright and hopeful. 
    "Of course!" Leon replied. "I brought them just for you guys."
    "You can pick first, Victor." Hop said before the two of them looked over the pokemon, talking amongst themselves.
    Leon had almost forgotten ___ was with them. She had been standing several feet away, but walked closer to Leon with a grin. "This is very kind of you." She said as she stood beside him. "Victor has been going on and on about wanting to train and go on a journey."
    "Its nothing, I'm happy to help Hop and his friend get started. I hope I haven't over stepped if you were planning to get him a pokemon."
     She shook her head. "Nah, I would have,but I think he's much happier with this arrangement." Victor cheered as he held up Scorbunny proudly. "This suits him more than any of my pokemon would." She patted the espeon on its head and it purred happily. 
      "Are you a trainer yourself?"
      She nodded. "Yes, though I admit it's been ages since I've had a proper battle." 
    Leon's ears perked up at that. "Oh really? Why's that?"
     She shrugged as she watched the boys run amok with the starter's. "No particular reason. Just busy helping mom with the farm and all that. There was a lot to be done after we moved here from sinnoh a couple years back."
    Leon nodded. He understood the feeling well. Despite how much Leon wanted to train he had always been worried about what went on at home. Even after all these years.
    "Don't look so glum about it." __ said, snapping him from his thoughts. "I had my time to run around and adventure. I collected all the gym badges, made it to the league and everything."
    Leon could feel the familiar itch in his palm to reach for a pokeball and challenge her. If she had really done all that, she must have been strong. "Well then you and I have to have a battle sometime."
    "A battle!?" As if he had been summoned, Hop appeared in front of them, bouncing in excitement. "You guys totally have to battle!"
     "Yeah, sis!" Victor agreed. "Show Leon what you can do."
      ___ seemed a bit reluctant. "I don't know guys...its been awhile."
    "Please!" The boys whined in unison. Leon chuckled a little. 
   "We don't have to right now if you'd rather prepare for a later date."
    She shook her head. "No, no. It's alright."
   "We can have a single battle if that makes you feel better. One pokemon each."
   ___nodded and looked to her espeon. The psychic pokemon had its game face on. "You ready girl?"
   "Espe!" The pokemon agreed and ran to the backyard pitch, ready to go.
    Leon nodded to his charzard and they made their way to the other end.
    Hop and Victor sat by the pond wooloo and the starters sitting in their laps, eagerly waiting for their older siblings to start.
    "A one point match, agreed?"
   "Agreed." She nodded. "Go, espeon!" Espeon let out a cry as it took its stance.
   "Go Charzard!" Leon cheered as his partner let out an intimidating roar. "Flamethrower!"
   "Go left!" Espeon dodged to the side, its eyes started to glow. "Dazzling gleam!" A shining pink light emanated from the pokemon, causing charzard to be temporarily blinded and stumbling back. __ grinned before her next command. "Grass knot!" Blades of grass shot from the ground and entangled themselves around charzards feet, tripping it up. 
   "Charzard fly!" As if the command had broken it from its daze, charzard spread its wings and flew upward, breaking the grass that held it. 
    "You two go right for the throat,huh?" Leon grinned. 
   "Go big or go home," she replied."espeon calm mind." 
   Espeon shut its eyes, Leon  could see the gem on its forehead glow, signifying the energy it was building up. Nope, can't have that. 
   "Charzard, tackle her!" The fiery pokemon swooped down from the sky, ready to dive right into espeon.
   "Espeon dodge!" The pokemon opened its eyes at the very last moment and jumped right over charzard, who had flown low to the ground to reach the much smaller creature. Without waiting for her partner to land, ___ cried out, "psychic!"
    Espeon eyes glowed as its power temporarily took hold of charzards mind to hit it with a psychic blast that sent it tumbling back.
   "Go espeon! Get him!" Victor cheered.
   Hop sat there slack jawed before cheering himself. "Come on charzard! You've had worse hits!"
   Charzard shook off its daze and glanced at its audience before staring down its opponents. Leon grinned. He knew that espeons could sense even the smallest shift in the air, useful for detecting attacks, but it seemed this one had been trained to be particularly adept at this skill. This was going to be fun. "Charzard, use ancient power!"
     His partner summoned the rocks from the ground and flung them at espeon, who proved Leon's theory that she was more evasive than most. She dodged the first and second rocks with ease and jumped over the third. However, charzard flung two at the same time, and while she managed to miss the first,the second came a moment to fast and smashed into her side, sending her skidding through the dirt. 
     "You alright?" ___ asked her pokemon. Leon could hear the concern in her voice,and for a moment he felt rather bad. Maybe he should have told charzard to hold back… however, Espeon forced herself up and growled at charzard. ___ nodded and looked at them with a determination that mirrored her partner. "Alright then… psyshock!" Espeon sent another blast of psychic energy at charzard right before running towards it. "Iron tail!" Espeon jumped and swung its tail at its opponent.
     "Protect!" Leon shouted. Espeons attack bounced off the sheild, only inches from charzards head. "Been awhile huh?" Leon commented. 
     ___ only grinned. "I never said we were rusty." The battle continued like that. Espeon dodged with expert ease but when charzard landed a hit, it hit hard. And even though Espeons attacks were not as powerful, they came fast and often. Before Leon knew it, a fire blast was sent towards it, and ___ called out for shadow ball to counter. The two collided and there was a flash of light from when the attacks collided. Both pokemon at this point looked exhausted but unwilling to give in. Leon contemplated if they should stop, however before he could say anything, both pokemon collapsed at the same time. 
    The silence was deafening. 
    ___said nothing as she ran to her partner and cradled the pokemon in her arms, mumbling words of comfort and praise. The boys however were far less gentle as they broke out of their shock and started shrieking. 
    "Holy Miltank, it's a tie!" Victor cried out excitedly.
    "I've never seen Lee in a draw like this!" Hop said, mouth hanging open as he looked at his brothers fallen pokemon. Leon had been doing this for so long, and yet he could not recall a time when he had a close match that ended in a draw either. The groan of charzard broke him out of his daze. He needed to tend to his partner. Leon grabbed the bag he had brought with him that held his supplies and crouched beside his old friend. "You did great buddy." He patted the creature on the head before setting to work using a revive and full restore to get charzard back on its feet.
     Then he looked over to ___, who still held her espeon in her arms. Leon could not help but smile at the obvious bond they shared. 
      "Its ok, we'll get you home and patch you up." ___made a move to get up from the ground, but Leon was already on his feet and rushing towards her. He wasn't quite ready for her to leave yet. 
    "No worries, I have plenty right here." Leon broke out another set of revives and full restores and set to work on healing her. "You're a tough cookie aren't you?" Leon cooed as he healed the pokemon. "I wouldn't want to be on your bad side."
    "Espeon." Espeon seemed to agree that he should not before getting on her feet and shaking the dirt from her fur. The pokemon licked his hand in thanks.
    ___ chuckled. "She likes you." 
    "I hope her trainer can say the same." 
  ___ smirked at that and replied, "I don't know...shes not so easily swayed."
   Leon could feel himself break out a wide grin when he heard his moms voice from behind him. "Goodness! What happened here?" The boys ran up to his mom and another woman who he could only assume was Victor and ___ mother, talking at length about the match. 
   Leon quickly glanced at ___. He caught a glimpse of her smiling at him before she looked away and walked off to help his mom get the supplies for the cook out.
    Hop was right. He did like the neighbor.
193 notes · View notes
thatlittledandere · 4 years
Note
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 15, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 31 and 40 for that shipper ask meme (sorry for picking so many but those questions are GOOD)
You're right, they absolutely are. I'm sorry in advance that this is gonna be LONG and I'm on mobile so I can't even add a read more;;
1. Talk about the first ship you ever had
So I'm SURE there were relationships I was invested in in movies and cartoons I watched as a child (I've always been a sucker for romance, even though there was that period when I didn't want to admit it) but I can't remember anything from very far back;; So it was either Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter or Ichigo and Masaya from Tokyo Mew Mew, whichever I read first.
2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life
GOSH. You can't do this to me. I guess Romione because it was the time in my preteens when I was becoming more aware of... stuff, in general, abs the two cemented my love for friends-to-lovers. Then Ioryuu, because I've never been AS invested in and passionate about a ship before and likely never will. Nothing can compare to that intensity and ngl I miss it;; I miss the genuine hype I felt in my heart that made me interact with people and make things. So many things. I honestly can't think of a third one with such a lasting impact, sorry;;
3. What's your current OTP?
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I imagine Souyo scenarios in my head every night before falling sleep and every morning after waking up, this is not a joke not an exaggeration. I still feel a little traitorous saying this on tumblr but their dynamic IS somewhat similar to the way I see Ioryuu so-
4. What's your current NoTP?
I don't think I have one? I have dislikes, some of them strong, but I don't see any of them often enough to be, like, actively angry. I have better uses for my time than willingly exposing myself to stuff I don't like.
5. Do you have any poly ships?
Not generally, juggling two characters is enough work lol. The only poly ships I've ever really actively shipped are Niels, Duncan and Natalie from the web comic Niels And the Gang by humon and Kinatsuen from Boueibu, but neither are actively on my mind much these days.
8. Have you ever shipped yourself with a character?
BOY HAVE I EVER. I've seen someone on tumblr have a side blog for self-shopping and not gonna lie, it's an excellent idea. My late teens were spent reading character x reader fics on Quotev and I started my fic career with the same genre. I don't really know what to do with myself when I DON'T actively ship myself with a character, which is my state of being now that Yosuke surpassed Yoosung as my favorite character;; Ibushi and Yoosung are the biggest ones but man oh boy I have shipped myself with characters from early age and I'm showing no signs of stopping! There's a reason that I main dating sims.
15. Have you ever "shipped at first sight"?
Not for long. I SUCK at forming first impressions. Usually if I start thinking I'll ship something, I end up not being so invested in it after all, and instead shipping something I swore off at first lmao. Which leads us to...
16. Talk about a ship you initially disliked
As a rule of thumb, all of them. I don't understand HOW it keeps happening but somehow almost all the ships I truly care/d about (that I didn't start shipping through osmosis before knowing them in the source material) started out as something I thought I "wouldn't be able to get behind." Gajevy. Shikatema. Sasunaru. Doctor/Rose. Karabita. Atsutodo. Kiribaku. Yoozen. Enatsu. Freaking IORYUU. EVEN SOUYO. IT'S BEEN YEARS I REALLY SHOULD KNOW THE PATTERN BY NOW
17. Talk about a pairing you've stopped shipping romantically
Like, I started to think they're better as friends after all? I guess NaLi. Then again, I mostly only shipped them out of spite in the first place because I wanted a counter for N/a//Lu, which I never liked at all;;
20. Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping
Now this time I can say for sure that there isn't one. I can't come up with ships myself and stay on board if there isn't content for it, canon or otherwise;; It's not a conscious decision or anything, it's just how my mind works. I get attached to stuff by exposure, whether from fans or the source material, and if the source material has enough content for two characters for me to pick up on and become interested, it's guaranteed to be enough to become a somewhat popular ship.
21. Is there a ship you just don't get, but have nothing against?
Actually... That's the extent I go to with notp'ing these days. I'm passionate about the right to ship whatever you want so by proxy I can't have anything "against" a ship, even if the sheer thought of it existing makes me nauseous. And I know how to think from points of view other than my own, so I can usually see the appeal, even if it appeals to me personally less than eating dog shit while walking barefoot on rusty nails that are also on fire.
That said, the only ships I have on my Tumblr blacklist are Yoo//ra/n and Suza//lu/lu because they're both popular ships for characters whose tags I am/was following and therefore get suggested a lot even if I want following anyone who ships then. Oh, and all B/LMa//tsu ships! I generally can't feel good about incestuous ships, but can and will fight for their shippers' right to do as they please as long as they stay respectful. (never saw blmatsus who weren't respectful. saw a plethora of anti-blmatsus who were absolute demons. actually the reason i moved away from the last remnants of my anti mindset was that i didn't want to be associated with THOSE anti-blmatsus, when the shippers they wanted dead were all such sweet people. food for thought.)
22. Which of your ships have the best chemistry?
All of them?? Lmao I don't understand this question, isn't shipping all about liking the chemistry between characters? Or the potential for it I guess, in which case the chemistry is whatever you want it to be, which is great B) I'm sorry I keep accidentally dodging questions I'm bad at choosing examples from a long, unordered list
23. Which of your ships deserve better writing?
Hhhhhhh I shipped Jerza for years and was still unsatisfied with their ending, Jellal didn't get to heal enough and we didn't really see them working through their past in an effective way and getting comfortable around each other. It's like they were supposed to be friends to enemies to lovers but the last part didnt really develop and their relationship stagnated at the stage were they were both just permanently awkward out of regret, and couldn't bring themselves out of it even though everything was forgiven forever ago. Or I've forgotten a lot of stuff that happened. Very likely. Is your a case of bad writing or good writing not working out the way I wanted it to? You're asking the wrong person.
25. Have you ever shipped a pairing before you even started watching the show/movie simply because of gifs/graphics or similar?
EYUP. Harumichi was my otp for like a whole year before I saw a single episode with them lol. It was crazy, but it was REAL. I've also went into shows already paying attention to things I knew my friends/people I follow shipped, kind of hoping I'd get into it.
26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic I'm writing these questions down from screenshots and I cropped the rest of this one out by accident rip
Eeeh I go for the obvious. Best friend pairs, obvious pining, some rivalry with sexual tension, though I don't really know what to do with those. Then there's the fact that I never see it coming sick Persona 5 reference bro and start shipping the couple I thought "should just be friends" at first. This is more about my relationship to the ships than their dynamic but it's very constant...
27. Is there a ship you've shipped for most of your life?
Hmmm well I got into HP and started shipping Romione sometime in mid elementary school so it's definitely been more than half my lifetime since, but I don't really know if I "ship it" anymore. I didn't start disliking them or anything but for me, "shipping" is an active intrest in a fictional relationship, so if it reaches the stage where I like it, in theory, but I don't have the feels, it doesn't really count. That's why I can say I like ships without shipping them. It's gotta be actively on my brain, man.
31. Talk about one of your favorite headcanons for a ship you love
I haven't mentioned Kannao once, which is criminal. So here's some of what I imagine their future to be like :D I've been getting new Persona followers recently so here's something for you to unfollow me over lmao
So first of all I ignore the canon that Naoto goes back to the city for her detective work after her first year of high school, shhh she stays in Inaba, only taking the occasional jobs. She and Kanji start dating during the spring break before their second year and get more comfortable with each other, so that the next summer they're still cute and very much themselves (which means somewhat reserved) but not as awkward anymore :) I haven't thought about what happens after they graduate but they get married in their early 20s and have a son <3 (Chie and Yukiko adopted their daughter only slightly earlier. They may or may not have had a bit of a competition going on) ((yes Souyo are very much together but if they end up having children I haven't thought about it it's later))
Kanji manages the textile shop and Naoto helps when she's free from detective stuff. They live in Inaba but Naoto is away quite often for her gigs;; She takes up a few jobs less when Kouta is little though so he wouldn't feel less close to his Mom than his Dad.
Both Kanji and Naoto suffered from unfair expectations growing up, so they try their best to make up for it with Kouta's upbringing. They want him to feel comfortable being himself and free to express himself the way he wants; they make sure he knows he'll always be loved and supported, and to never be ashamed of who he is. As a child it doesn't even occur to him that many social norms and social expectations exist, because Naoto and Kanji pretty much let him do whatever as long as he isn't hurting himself or anyone else. They might go a little overboard though, giving into Kouta's whims without much consideration at all. The Amagi Aunties enforce rules and keep kids grounded in reality much better lmao
40. If you could change one thing about your otp, what would that be?
HMNGHNMHGNMGH I WAMT YOSUKE'S INTERNALIZED BULLSHIT ACKNOWLEDGED!! It's there AtlUS!! Stop pretending oh my god.... I love the Dancing All Night story mode (so far. I am by no means done); Yosuke gets cool moments and Yu's internal monologue really shows how much he appreciates him. The dynamic is so much better than with a silent protagonist, and thank god they didn't go with the tactless anime Yu (as fun as he is). I know there are a bunch of nods to the cut romance across spinoffs but mannnn... I wish they were more serious about it. At this point it's not even that far-fetched to think Yosuke has feelings for Yu that he may or may not be aware of, and I know that Yu as the player character can't be too tied down to one option in canon, but still... Even the clown gets tired of jokes at some point. One can dream.
40 ship questions
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uozlulu · 4 years
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BnHA/MHA chapter 251 reaction and spoilers (sorry this got so long, guys)
Does Endeavor know Bakugou’s hands sweat nitro? Like this seems like a bad quirk combination here.
”fine citizens” now all I can think of is the Monarch as the Blue Morpho calling Rusty “Citizen” during season six of Venture Bros lol. That said, Midoriya is definitely the type of person to say that unsnerkily
"I'm sorry!! I couldn't help but think that if I saved you, then going forward, you might feel like you couldn't stand up to me. ... Natsuo, believe it or not, I was never trying to neglect any of you, but all I could do was blame others and dodge responsibility with Touya too... I might as well have killed him myself!" EXCUSE ME, do not gaslight your child. *smacks newspaper around* I know gaslighting is the buzzword of the day, but I’m being serious here. Notice how Endeavor is trying to reframe perception, trying to manipulate the situation. Does he genuinely feel sorry? Probably since this is Jump after all, however, this isn’t a real apology. He’s putting the emotional work on Natsuo here. “I was never trying to neglect you” “I might as well have killed him myself!” not to mention the apology starts out with a caveat, Endeavor thought that by saving Natsuo, he could gain something from Natsuo in return. It’s delusional at best, malicious at worst. I’m leaning towards delusional because it’s Jump. Also it wouldn’t surprise me if this arc ends in Dabi, revealed to be Touya (at least to the audience) actually succeeds in either gravely wounding Endeavor if not successfully killing him. It also won’t surprise me, going forward, if we see a rapid cycling of number one heroes as society tries to not just fill All Might’s void but the League of Villains succeed. I mean you know like any good adventure story, the heroes have to fail before they can succeed.
“Didn't neglect us...? So what...? Touya has always told me everything. It'll be a cold day in Hell before I forgive you, 'cuz I'm not as caring as Shouto.” Please note that Natsuo says this while crying. I’m curious if the tears gathering along the rims of his eyes without falling is a sign of an ice quirk or just dramatic effect. Again, like last week, I just really, really hope that Natsuo has some kind of support system whether it’s someone he lives with or a friend or more he can go to tonight. It reminds me of the theory he might be quirkless and I worry he might in turn have no real support system like how everyone seemed to turn on Midosirya when they thought he was quirkless.
"Your sister loves the idea of being a big happy family, because that's exactly what I ruined. She wants that back - she's so eager to fix everything, and that's why you're trying at all, because you care about how she feels, right? Because you are caring.” Again, we have manipulation and thrusting the emotional weight onto Natsuo. Endeavor might not even realize he’s doing this because it’s Jump. Anyway, the first manipulation tactic here is to drag Fuyumi into this discussion. Fuyumi wants everyone to get along. Wouldn’t it be nice to give Fuyumi what she wants. See? Not doing it for Endavor, but for Fuyumi. You care about your sister, you want her to be happy, this is how to make her happy. So on and so forth. Then, the text itself bolds you’re, emphasizing that it is Natsuo who has to try, that Natsuo doesn’t have a choice here because it’s for Fuyumi after all. Natsuo is just so caring and through this caring nature certainly these things can go the way Endeavor wants them to. It kind of makes you wonder if Fuyumi (and Touya for that matter since he was mentioned manipulatively earlier) to get Natsuo to do things for Endavor as a child. Again, this is falling into that category of at best this is a habit Endavor doesn’t realize he has and must break and at worst Endeavor knows that bringing up Fuyumi and Touya will get Natsuo to crack because it always has from the beginning.
"You don't have to forgive me. I'm not looking for forgiveness, just atonement." So before I go and track down the raw, let’s just talk about the definition of atonement. According to Merriam-Webster, atonement means, "1. reparation for an offense or injury; satisfaction, 2. the reconciliation of God and humankind through the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ, 3. Christian Science: the exemplifying of human oneness with God," and "4. obsolete: reconciliation" so that’s a bit heavy-handed compared to forgiveness. I’m going to assume the translation team is thinking the defunct reconciliation definition, which then brings up the question of why they didn’t just say reconciliation? Anyway, let’s seem if the raw sheds some light here. Couldn’t find a raw for this panel. Guess I’ll have to see how the anime translates it when we get there. This is kind of possibly in that vein of Midoriya mentioning Hawks passing out pamphlets like the Gospel, which Midoriya did not actually say in the raw.
”Wow. You really got a real way with words all of a sudden! I know how happy it makes sis, having us all together, but when I see your face those memories come rushing back... Why do I gotta be the one to come around?! Atonement?! How're you gonna make that happen?” Natsuo’s crying now, so the tears not falling yet was probably dramatic effect and we cannot be certain that he is or is not quirkless yet. I’m glad that he’s finding strength within himself not to get caught up in Endavor’s need to control the situation. I mean this is where Endavor needs to shush it and leave this for another time, but no, Endeavor can’t leave it alone and says, "I have an idea actually."
I feel sorry for everyone present who has to sit here and watch this play out except Endavor. He’s still on my BS list let me tell you.
Bakugou wants to tell Best Jeanist his hero name first. Now all I can think about is the thought I keep cycling back to that Bakugou is going to be the one to find Jeanist’s head in that bag.
They take the boys back to school and Natsuo goes back to the house where he and Endavor tell Fuyumi what happened, which makes me wonder if Fuyumi is Natsuo’s support system and if he has one outside of the family like Shouto’s finding in some of his classmates.
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nataliedanovelist · 5 years
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GF - Chess
Stanford placed his knight on the desired space on the antique board. Pa had gotten his hands on an really old chess game and had displayed it in the shop, so until it was sold, Stanford decided that he was going to teach Stanley how to play. The ten-year-old was certainly clever enough to understand the game if he tried, but that was it; Stanley wasn't even trying. It was like playing with a robot. His moves were so basic and unplanned. Still, Stanford had fun and watched as his brother took his crook, leaving an open pathway to his black king. Stanford moved his white queen with a little victorious click on the wooden board; he was just one move away from winning the game.
"Check."
Stanley looked up and gave his next move some thought. There was only one other space for the king to go: one space to the left, so Stanley moved the king in an attempt to win, but Stanford moved his queen over to the left one space, just five spaces up from the king.
"Check."
There was no way Stanley could win by moving the king; he'd have to take down the white queen with one move or lose. And Stanley Pines doesn't lose easily! He saw that he had a bishop that was just one space off from a perfect diagonal line from taking the queen, but it was on a dark square, not a white square. As luck would have it, Ma poked her head into the pawn shop and Stanford turned his head away from the game,
"Boys, dinner'll be ready in ten minutes." She warned.
"Be right there, Ma." Stanford called back politely, meanwhile his brother sneakily moved his bishop to the correct line.
Stanford turned around and Stanley didn't waste a second to take his turn. He moved the bishop down the diagonal line and took the queen. Stanford gasped, horrified that he didn't catch that, and held his chin to think of what to do. They could pause the game for dinner, but he didn't trust Stanley to not cheat (he was blissfully unaware that his brother already had), so Stanford knew he'd have to win right here, right now. His eye caught one last saving piece for the game, the little guy no one would think would win, and he moved his pawn.
"HA! Check!"
Stanley's jaw dropped. Stanford had his arms crossed over his chest smugly as Stanley tried to see how to save his beloved king, but every move he'd make the pawn could copy, so the king was trapped. Stanley growled under his breath and flicked his king down in surrender.
Stanford had just enough time to stand on his antique stool and do a victory-dance before they had to run upstairs for dinner.
The fourth-floor lobby of the men's dormitories at Backupsmore was nice enough, but certainly worn, seeing how it usually hosted unruly freshmen. Luckily, it still had a pair of comfy couches, a small TV, an old radio, a coffee table, and a few big tables with chairs to use as desks; it was like a standard living room, but with additional studying space crammed into the large room.
At one desk, Stanford sat across from his roommate. While others were playing in the fallen leaves like children, the polydactyl freshman was more than happy to sit in the warm lobby with his new friend. Fiddleford was a brilliant young man who was just as smart as him and had that same love for science and drive to learn. It was refreshing and as Stanford held his cleft chin in thought, he couldn't help but feel grateful that his new opponent was a bit more of a challenge than his last competitor. Finally, Stanford moved his black knight. Fiddleford also took his time to move, which Stanford didn't mind. Chess was a nice game to have if you wanted to have a conversation, but it was also just as easy to get lost in thought and not even think about communicating with your opponent. Although, Fiddleford's silence may be due to concentrating; he was a little rusty at the game, as he explained prior that his family usually favored checkers over chess.
Stanford looked out the huge window that nearly covered the wall facing the campus. The oranges, yellows, and reds that filled the air from the trees and it's dying leaves made Backupsmore feel cozy, warm, and safe. Stanford was more comfortable sitting with his friend, wearing an orange turtleneck, and playing a game than he had been in a long time. Really, he hadn't noticed it since he was comfortable, but for a few months now he had been on edge, his anxiety too high and his hours of sleep too low. Maybe it was because he had finally gotten settled on campus, maybe it was because he had time to recover from the Incident, or maybe Fall really did do that to a person, but regardless as to why, Stanford was grateful to the peaceful feeling he had on his shoulders and back. He felt like ten pounds had been lifted off of him.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when Fiddleford moved. Seeing where his train of thought was leading the musician, Stanford gave a sly grin and used his pawn to steal Fiddleford's crook.
It seemed like he had just closed his aching eyes to try to regain some strength through the necessary action of sleep. Now he opened them again, as if he had only blinked, but he found his exhaustion gone, as well as his aches and worries. It was hard to worry in such a peaceful environment such as this.
Stanford smiled at seeing his Muse, his friend, Bill Cipher, sitting in a chair across from him, a game of interdimensional-chess separating them. Bill was white, he was always white (which in the game interdimensional-chess meant Bill's pieces were only a slightly lighter shade of blue than Stanford's), so he moved a pawn without even touching it and squinted his eye happily at the human he had chosen to inspire this century.
"Good to see you again, Fordsie!" Bill greeted.
"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Stanford replied politely and moved a black pawn. Then again, a few weeks would hardly compare to the hundreds - maybe even thousands - of years his Muse has been around.
Bill shrugged and moved another pawn, as if to say "Whatcha gonna do?" The triangle-shaped being with answers then gave the human a more thoughtful look. "Still having trouble with that Unified Theory of Weirdness, huh?"
Stanford sighed before moving his crook. "Unfortunately, yes. I still fail to see how everything is connected. All of the anomalies are different and weird in their own right that it's nearly impossible to pinpoint a commonality between them, but there must be! There must be something that connects them all, isn't there? Why else would so many anomalies be located in Gravity Falls?" He asked, looking for clarity from his Muse that he wasn't crazy, that he wasn't delusional, that he was on the right track.
"Whoa, easy there, Sixer." Bill said calmly. While Stanford sipped his tea (it was Camomile and his ideal perfect cup of tea; perfect amount of sweetness, perfect temperature, it was like the drink had come directly from Stanford's mind, which it probably did seeing how they were in the mindscape), the triangle went on and added, "You're not that far off. Look, you keep looking for common behavior, right? Well, what if what's common about all the weird stuff is their history?"
Stanford lowered his cup back on it's saucer and let it float near his head. "What do you mean?"
Bill moved his next piece on the chess board. "Well, what if I told you that what connects all the weirdness of Gravity Falls is it's origins? I mean, you've heard of the whole different-dimension-theory, Fordsie."
"It's true, then?" Stanford asked, having heard of this theory via college professors and science-fiction movies. "There are multiple dimensions?" It made sense when he gave it some thought, but up until now he never had.
Bill laughed and held his three-sided body. "You better believe it! Hundreds of thousands of different realities that never touch! Some millions of years more advanced than your dimension, some centuries behind. Some are so different that you can't possibly even imagine it being true until you've seen it, some are only slightly different than your own. But we're not here to talk about hundreds of millions of dimensions. We're here to talk about one. One dimension that leaked into yours. One dimension that'll make your Unified Theory of Weirdness, if you can prove it."
Stanford stared happily at his friend. This… there was no way he would've ever come up with this on his own! Immediately, however, his mind was spinning with fresh ideas and a new speed with excitement as fuel. This Muse had truly outdone himself this time! He truly inspired the man to do amazing things! Stanford moved another pawn to free his queen. "And how do I do that?" He asked, trying to keep his giddiness at bay.
Bill's eye squinted with happiness again, and he used his knight to take one of Stanford's pawns.
Ford had seen that the tours were over through the hidden cameras when the large group of people left the Shack. Good. He could go for another cup of coffee. He slowly opened the hidden door behind the vending machine and was almost oblivious to the sounds of laughter and playful bickering. Almost.
"Ha! Nice try, Mabel!"
"NO! My Fair Lady!"
Ford walked down the hall and in passing the living room for the kitchen, he found his great-niece and nephew sitting at the card-table in the living room and playing a game of chess. Mabel swiftly moved another piece and Dipper did as well, playing quickly rather than slowly and taking their time. Ford wondered if they found it more entertaining when on a time crunch. After a few quick moves, Mabel managed to move a pawn to the last row and she snatched her queen back, replacing it with her black pawn.
"In your face, Dip-Dip!" Mabel bragged.
"Okay, okay," Dipper sneered with a grin. "Let's see if your luck'll last!"
Ford shook his head with a smile as he ventured on for the caffeine he desperately needed. Just because the Unicorn Spell was active didn't mean his family was safe. Bill was still going to try to get into their world. Bill was still going to try to break the Rift. Bill was still going to haunt Ford's mind until he got what he wanted.
By the time the old scientist had passed the living room, this time with a hot mug in his six-fingered hands, Dipper knocked over Mabel's black king.
"OH! Dipper Pines remains the champion!" The boy cheered while Mabel blew a raspberry. Dipper's eye caught Ford watching and said, "Hey, Great-Uncle Ford. Wanna play a quick game of chess?"
Ford held up a hand and smiled gently. "No, thank you, Dipper. I have much research to do."
"Come on, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel insisted with a toothy grin. "It'll be fun! You and I can work together to take down Brainiac over here." She added, jabbing a thumb over at her twin as he reset the game. "You can even be white!"
Ford found it difficult not to smile. Perhaps a quick game would do him some good, give him a break from his work while exercising his mind as he rested and sipped his coffee. Besides, how can anyone deny that sweet smile?
Ford shrugged and walked into the room. "Very well, I suppose one game wouldn't hurt."
Mabel cheered and moved chairs so Grunkle Ford could sit across from his opponent. Dipper seemed shocked to find the Author of the Journals sitting to play with him, something he had been hesitant to do ever since the Probabilitor the Annoying incident, but he was no less delighted. Mabel soon ran off and told Ford to go ahead without her. He moved the first pawn up two spaces and Dipper took his turn.
Ford was pleased to find that his knowledge of chess was just as extensive as his knowledge of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. After a few moves, Mabel came back into the living room with a bowl of fresh popcorn. Dipper thanked her and popped some into his mouth as he played. Ford also snacked on the provided food and whispered with his niece of how he should move, allowing her to make most of the choices, even if it meant he would lose.
Once again, Ford was reminded how one must take joy in the simple pleasures of life.
It wasn't like his last dream, where it felt so real. This one was foggy, an illusion created by his own conscious and not by some unholy demon. Still, that didn't make the dream any less frightening.
Ford held his head with his left hand, his fingers combing his charcoal-gray hair. He bit his lip tightly, any tighter and his lip would bleed. It should be an easy choice, it should be straightforward, but sentiment over the people it would affect and fear over the consequences of his choices made him freeze.
Bill sat across from him, not friendly and good-naturally as he once pretended, but menacingly, his eye watching the human boringly and his hands held in front of his triangular body, his skinny black elbows on the arms of his chair. "Choose your moves wisely, Sixer." He said in a stoic tone that only mocked the human.
Ford swallowed to try to rid his stomach of the melancholy ache only guilt could bring, but the pain refused to go away. His hand, his six-fingered, birth-defected hand, hovered over Dipper, sentencing him to be the next pawn in Bill's game.
Ford woke up. He didn't jump up this time, but stayed down on the couch in his room. He blinked several time to clear his musty eyes before slowly sitting up. It was a little before sunrise judging by the light leaking into his room through the stained glass window.
Ford slipped on his glasses and gave a heavy sigh. That ache in his gut was still there.
Grunkle Ford breathed in the fresh pine-scented air, a nice change from the harsh salty winds. He loved the sea, and he loved traveling with his brother, but he also loved this old shack. He and Stan both agreed that while they looked forward to resume their adventure at the end of the summer, it was good to be back.
He sipped his Camomile tea gingerly as he watched the sun set on this warm, golden afternoon. The sunlight trickled through the trees and onto the house as Ford sat on the old couch. A soft breeze ruffled his fluffy hair and kept him cool as he baked under the star his planet circled. He was getting a little drowsy, but a soft voice brought him back to Earth.
"Grunkle Ford?"
The old scientist turned his head to the door and found his thirteen-year-old niece with a board under her arm and a box in her other hand.
"Wanna play chess?" Mabel asked sweetly.
Grunkle Ford smiled. "Of course, my dear."
Mabel hurried and sat on the left-side of the couch, setting the board in the middle of the old couch and arranging the pieces. Ford took another sip from his tea and sat it by his feet before turning to face the game and play.
When Mabel was finished setting up the game, she gestured to the board and said, "You can be white."
Ford smiled in thanks and moved his pawn.
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sixmorningsafter · 5 years
Text
Did She Really Love Me?
Okay, so. Without getting into too much detail, here’s how the past couple of months (in regards to SMA of course) have been: I started the review for the most recent chapter as soon as it came out, but it was too emotional (and boy, I was too emotional) to even try. I tried again maybe a month or so later, but writer’s block and Emotions were not about it. Then, I thought, let’s be creative with SMA crack, and I started doing wedding drabbles + moodboards because ya know, I’m planning a wedding (remind me to show you The Dress). I finished the steroline one, but then my laptop crashed. Violently. So, that was fun. Idk if I can recover anything off my laptop, but it seems like I may not be able to. That’s another story and drama entirely.
Now, I have a new laptop, so that’s good. But then, I heard Did You Really Love Me by Jeff Carl:
Did ya really love me? Did ya even know how much I cared? Did ya really know me? Oh, I’m feelin’ so unprepared. It’s getting harder to breathe. We had such good, why did you leave? What did you think that you need that you couldn’t find it in me?
So, I wrote this Stefonnie, post-Stelena drabble/one-shot whatever. Enjoy the angst.
“Wow. Okay. Um…”
Stefan isn’t even concerned by Bonnie’s sudden presence in his apartment. If he’s honest, he’s been seeing and hearing things for the past three weeks, barely functioning on a minimal amount of sleep. He knows she’s referring to the whirlwind of his apartment, things he’s tossed and toppled, but he is unbothered.
Everything he sees reminds him of her, and behind his eyelids, everything he doesn’t see does the same.
“Stef…” Bonnie’s voice is low, like she’s talking to a patient groggy on medication. “Stefan, it’s Bonnie.”
A muted rage makes him want to snap. I’m heartbroken, not a moron! But, when the gravity of his situation weighs on him, he bites his tongue. Oh, but he was a moron. He is a moron. His eyes are dry, but his chest caves around his sad heart.
“You haven’t been answering my calls.”
She looks like she’s navigating a booby-trap. She sits next to his contorted body on the sofa. The way his arms wrap around him, you’d think he was a mummy. Petrified by shock and loss.
“I hope you don’t mind, I used the spare. Stefan…”
She pushes hair away from his forehead, and he knows it’s dramatic when he flinches, but he can’t help it. Physical contact hurts. Everything hurts. He catches a glimpse of her frown, but he knows under the worry is anger.
“Okay, first things first.” She pops up. “We’re going to get you some food. Then, we’ll…” She surveys the room—then frowns. “Is this an e-cigarette?”
He doesn’t smoke, so he understands the confusion. He doesn’t even have the courage to even look in her direction. Look, Rebekah had to learn drama from someone in their family.
She ignores it and orders Chinese food. Their favorite—now his favorite—is right across the street. His stomach whines, but he won’t be able to keep it down.
“Don’t order from there,” he rasps as she’s almost done. She startles at his wrecked voice. “Order from the one by you.”
Understanding, she nods. She cancels the order and speed-dials her Chinese restaurant. She orders the same food. As she listens to the employee read the order back, she studies the room. He knows she wants to clean it—that’s how she usually gets out of her own funks—but she would need his help. Help he is unwilling to give.
“Thanks.” She hangs up and looks at him. They make eye contact, and he knows her heart goes out to him. She inhales deeply before clapping her hands together. “Okay, buddy, let’s get you into the shower. When you’re all clean, the food will be here by then, hopefully, and then we’ll eat, and we’ll see about cleaning this—”
Her perky singsong tone strikes something, and he heaves a sob he didn’t know was still in him.
“Oh, hon—”
“What did I miss?” he croaks. Bonnie’s optimism crumples into pity. He knows all her faces. He knew all of her faces. “What did she need that I didn’t give her? That I couldn’t give her? I gave her everything.”
His fingers curl into his palms. He did give her everything—every part of him, anything she asked. What did he do to drive her into the arms of another man? He could scoff—how could he even call this other guy a ‘man’? What man steals another’s love?
His lungs burn.
How could he have been so blindsided? God, he thought they were on the same page. Love at first sight, a true love, damning how young or how little they knew about one another—it was an epic, long-lasting love that learns every secret, every tic, everything as the long, beautiful years go on.
Love? Beauty? He does scoff. Fallacies he’s bought into, he’s fed on all these years.  
When Bonnie seizes him in a strong embrace, he realizes she’s the only one who can keep him grounded right now. Not even his sisters could comfort him (not that anyone other than Freya even tried).
Muffled against her chest, he manages, “We were perfect.”
“No couple is perfect.” Her reminder is gentle. It stings less coming from her. “No one is perfect, not even you.” It’s a hook for a joke, but she recognizes he’s not biting. “People are selfish, and people mess up… monumentally.”
“Did she really love me?”
Bonnie squeezes his shoulders, and they sit. They sit and sit, listening to the sounds of life right outside his window, of the city and of the birds and the wind. Listening to sounds of life right in the room, of the thundering silence surrounding their own breathing and heartbeats.
Someone knocks on his door. It’s the delivery guy. Bonnie presses an uncharacteristic kiss to his temple and leaves. Symbolic, really. The apartment smells of salt and savor. She returns and gently untangles his arms.
“You’re going to shower—no sad music video renditions—” she tries to garner a laugh, but he barely lifts the corners of his mouth. “Then, we feast.”
He knows she means well, as she shuffles him into the bathroom. She jokes that he’s on his own from here, and even that sends a jolt through his severed heart. He knows she means well, as she blasts 90’s hip hop and rap on his stereo, no doubt trying to bring order back to his living room.
But under the running water, in the overwhelming scent of a generic shampoo and not the warm vanilla he was used to, he is still crushed by his unanswered question.
Did she really love me?
this year’s been rough in many ways, one of which is the first full piece I’ve written since April maybe? feels good to write again. hope your holidays were fun and restful <3
A/N below the cut:
OKAY, so to begin with: I have a theory that sometimes, even though it defies all that ‘practice makes perfect’ shit we’ve been hearing our whole lives, taking a lengthy break from writing can actually make you better. Dunno if it has to do with a chance to break from your routine and then come back with a fresh voice, or if you just come back on less of an autopilot than you were in before, but one way or another, it happens sometimes, and THIS IS TOTALLY THAT. I know you feel rusty but GIIIIRRRLLL, this was LOVELY.
Everything he sees reminds him of her, and behind his eyelids, everything he doesn’t see does the same.
AHHHHH.
His chest caves around his sad heart.
AHHHHH.
 Look, Rebekah had to learn drama from someone in their family.
I cackled.
Not even his sisters could comfort him (not that anyone other than Freya even tried).
Lexi was the not-gonna-say-I-called-it-but-I-highkey-called-it sister and Rebekah was the ‘omg I know let’s use this opportunity for a much-needed makeover’ sister. 
She jokes that he’s on his own from here, and even that sends a jolt through his severed heart.
AHHHHHH.
Okay, before I just quote the shit out of this whole thing, I’ll reign it in: you captured Stefan and Bonnie’s relationship so friggin’ perfectly. Bonnie would absolutely be a blend of empathy, humor, and tough BFF love, and Stefan would absolutely be that balance of wallowing drama and genuine heartbreak. You did such a marvelous job toeing that line - it’s so easy to just take the humor route and trivialize his theatrics when it comes to this breakup (I do it all the time, lololol), but between the humorous bits of melodrama, you genuinely made my heart break for him. I could feel his devastation. Devastated Disney prince. Also, you did such a fantastic job capturing the tension in the room and the quiet, desolate atmosphere. It felt like the aftermath of a natural disaster, like some bomb had detonated a few weeks ago and Stefan was just still sitting in the wreckage of it all, resigned, ash and burnt-edged debris settled all around him. The beats of silence and processing during their conversation gave it such a realistic pace, and I loved all of Stefan’s thoughts throughout it. Especially loved this one: 
Stef…” Bonnie’s voice is low, like she’s talking to a patient groggy on medication. “Stefan, it’s Bonnie.”
A muted rage makes him want to snap. I’m heartbroken, not a moron! But, when the gravity of his situation weighs on him, he bites his tongue. Oh, but he was a moron. He is a moron. His eyes are dry, but his chest caves around his sad heart.
Just felt so genuinely human. Also loved the detail about the Chinese place and how he had her order the exact same food from a different one. Very real. 
Anyway, I miss the crap out of you and your writing (PLEASE GET BACK TO WRITING, AND IF YOU WANT TO USE SMA AS AN EASY WAY TO EDGE BACK INTO IT, I CAN’T THINK OF A BETTER REASON FOR SMA TO EXIST). Also, your wedding dress is a legit DREAM. I don’t even really get too into weddings and stuff but gah, I’m so excited for yours. It’s definitely been a tough year for me too, but I’m beyond thrilled for the good things coming ahead for you and I want all the updates re: you and Ryan. 
LOVE YA GIRL.
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lena-in-a-red-dress · 6 years
Text
Lena and the Winchesters, Part 3
Over the next six months, they continue to monitor the headlines that soon spread from California to the national news circuit. National City becomes ground zero for a series of Super vs Luthor face offs. It all remains distant, though. The three of them don't have any any ties to the city, and give it a wide berth whenever they wander back to the West Coast.
"That'd be one hell of a cat fight!" Dean remarks, and it's about as much thought as any of them give the conflict.
Their lives are wrapped in much smaller, more harrowing tasks. Lucy's gift of seeing things for what they extends well past small-town ghouls. Vampires, skinwalkers, shtrigas-- anything with the ability to hide among humans can't hide from her.
Lucy proves a voracious reader, consuming everything they have on hand about the things they hunt, plus any reference she can pull from from the libraries they visit. Her mind works like a steel trap, and each new fact she learns takes her fear away, until she as learned--and brazen-- as the brothers who took her in.
Dean prays to Cas what they learn about Lucy. It starts with her uncanny gifts, and progresses through the oddities that slowly emerge the more she experiences the world.
Like the fact she's a wizard at making weapons-- especially improvised explosives. Or her pickpocket skills, which match her ability to hustle pool better than even Dean (a fact he attributes to her other, unlearnable assets). She prefers whiskey to beer and likes scotch over both.
Lucy also knows code, which is the final straw for Sam.
"She's gotta have another life out there, Dean," he says one night while Lucy is busy playing darts with a young woman in a stetson. "A ghoul or a shell wouldn't be created with knowledge about computer code! It just isn't-- I don't think she was created from nothing. That cult abducted her, did god knows what, and somehow erased her memory."
"O-kay," Dean returns.
"She could have people looking for her! People who care about her, who are probably worried sick!"
"And what do you expect me to do about it Sam? We don't exactly have much to go on with Cas in silent mode!"
Sam takes a deep breath, and leans his arms against the table between them. "All I'm saying is that maybe we should devote a little more time to figuring out WHO she is, rather than what."
Dean doesn't know what to say. He glances towards Lucy and catches her eye just as her darts competition tilts her head and whispers something low and smooth in her ear. Lucy throws her head back in a sudden laugh, breaking eye contact with Dean to then pull the girl even closer, close enough for the stranger's hand to slip into her back pocket and stay there, as casually as if it belongs there.
He can't deny that whatever Cas says, Lucy isn't a shell. Life spills from her with every smile, every crinkle of her eyebrow when she runs into something new. She's not empty at all.
But reluctance tugs at his heart as Sam's words roll across his brain. He doesn't want to look for who Lucy was. If they do, then sooner or later they'd find something. And when they find something... Lucy will go back to being who she should be. Lucy will leave them behind, and Dean is a selfish son of a bitch.
He doesn't want to lose this strange, surprising woman who's become a part of their lives.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he says, before taking a long swig of his beer. "Why not."
The conversation niggles at the back of his mind for days, before he finally goes to Lucy. He explains Sam's theory, and waits for her response.
It's a long, long beat before she speaks.
"What if... I don't want to?"
"You don't want to what? You don't want to look?"
Lucy shrugs.
"Why not?"
"You and Sam... you help people. A lot of people. And as long as I'm with you I get to be a part of that. Doing good. Whoever I used to be... that person might not be a good person."
Dean can't help the laugh that pops out of him. "That's what you're worried about?"
"Don't mock me."
"I'm not, I'm not," he immediately surrenders under her sharp glare. "I swear."
Lucy softens then, and a shadow seems to settle over her, darkening her gaze, and in that moment Dean realizes that this isn't the first she's thought about it.
"Look, Luce..."
Green eyes lift to meet his, heavy and uncertain.
"Not that long ago, you put yourself between us and a monster."
"He was only a kid, Dean." It's the closest they'd come to falling out. The only thing that had kept Dean from shooting the kid anyway was the pastor who'd stood at Lucy's shoulder, and promised to ensure the child would never harm a human. "He hadn't done anything wrong."
"Not yet," Dean returns. Even now, deep in his bones, he knows that if the kid survived long enough to reach maturity, it'd be back on their radar.
Some ganks just don't change their stripes.
"My point is-- someone who does that isn't a bad person. In any life. Just like that kid has violence and bloodlust in his genes, you have something good in you. No memory will change that."
Putting a hand on her shoulder, Dean gives her an affectionate shake.
"If you don't want to look, that's fine. Whatever. But don't let that be the thing that stops you."
Lucy goes missing a week later, before they even know there's a thing to hunt. Sam and Dean leave for take out, and come back to a ransacked motel room. Nothing is missing but Lucy, and in her place they find half a dozen spent rounds and an alarming amount of blood.
They find her thirteen days later, chained by one wrist to a wall deep in the sewers.
"Luce? Lucy!" Dean pats her cheek, hard, desperate to find signs of life beyond the thundering of his own heart. "Come on!"
"Dean...?"
She can barely open her eyes, but his name slips thick and slurred from bloodstained lips. More blood oozes from the claw marks that rake her from shoulder to sternum, and another, deeper laceration rips the length of her thigh open. The cement under her is dark with her blood, and in the shine of their flashlights her skin is sallow and dull.
"It's us, Luce. We've got you."
"There were other girls," she mumbles, struggling to hold her head up. Only then does Dean notice the empty manacles lining the room. More than a dozen. "I'm the last. I think..."
She doesn't finish, and Dean taps her back awake. "Come on, stay with me, okay? We're gonna get you out of here."
Sam works furiously on the lock holding her prisoner, but it's too dark and their lack of knowledge on whatever took her presses against their spines, urging them to move faster.
"I think... he ate them."
"Who ate them?" Sam asks, jiggling the pick to dislodge it. It doesn't work. "What is it?"
"Won't believe it if I tol' you."
"Oh, for Christ's sake Sammy, get back!" Dean stands and fires twice at the chain link that connected to the eyebolt anchor. The rusted metal cracks, and then shatters when Dean gives it a frenzied yank. Lucy struggles to stand with their help, only to lose consciousness as soon as she's upright.
"Shit," Dean curses as he catches her. He tosses his weapon to Sam and scoops Lucy into his arms, pulling the trailing chain into her lap so it won't trip them up.
Sam takes in the blood Lucy's leaving behind, and meets Dean's gaze with fear in his eyes. "She's lost a lot of blood."
"No shit," Dean snaps. "Let's get the hell out of here."
A door behind them slams open before they can hit the next corridor.
"THAT'S MINE!" a voice roars, before something big and solid slams into them from behind. Lucy and both guns go flying as Sam and Dean sprawl across the damp concrete floor, pinned by a single hand to each of their chests.
The man connected to both fists is diminutive, and doesn't look capable of squeezing the breath out of them, but their wheezing confirms there's something more to him than meets the eye.
"Thieves!" the guy hisses, spraying foul-smelling saliva across both of them. "You'll pay for trying to steal from me."
"Steal?" Dean gasps. "No, no, no, we were just borrowing--URK." A hand clamps around his throat.
"You talk too much." The man leans in close, sniffing deeply. Then he grins, and leans in close enough for Dean to spot the bits of meat still stuck between its teeth. "You have its scent on you. A protector, perhaps... I'll enjoy eating you too."
"Hey, asshole."
Lucy fires her pistol from where she landed.  Barely able lift the gun clutched tightly in both hands, her shots go wide, but the pressure on Dean's chest disappears. He heaves for breath, the rolls and paws his way over to Lucy while Sam goes for the second gun.
"Good job---"
A deafening, bellowing roar cuts him off, reverberating off the walls and rattling their skulls.
"Time t'go," Lucy and Dean tell each other. Dean once again reaches for her, prompting another bellow of rage.
"MINE!!"
With the sound of crunching bone and cartilage, the man's shape starts to shift, distorting into something larger, longer, and much, much scalier.
"Is that a...?"
"Tol' you," Lucy mumbles, slumping against the floor.
The next roar comes with heat and flame as the man-turned-dragon comes barrelling towards them on all fours, wings scraping against the rusty pipes over head and sending metal shard flying in every direction.
Its tail catches Dean across the chest, flinging him into Sam and sending them both to the ground. Lucy blindly reaches around her for a gun, a weapon, anything, and comes up with nothing but a piece of pipe. With the beast bearing down, she has no time to do anything but angle the sharpest end up and brace for impact.
"LUCE!!"
Dean's shout gets lost in a cacophony of shrieking metal and agonized wails. But then an eerie silence fills the air around them. No snapping bones, no rending flesh-- just a jagged sigh that trails to nothing.
"Dean..." Sam prods him, but Dean can't move. Every muscle locks tight, waiting for the worst to be confirmed. He only forces himself to look when Sam yanks him to his feet. "DEAN!"
The dragon sags upright against the pipe impaled through its chest, dead. The force of its attack had shoved the base of the pipe against the stone floor, gouging a deep furrow in the concrete, but Lucy's hands were still wrapped loosely around the base. She lay as lifeless as her assailant, and just as bloody.
"Lucy!" Dean slides to his knees next to her, searching for a pulse. When he can't find one, he sticks his palm under her nose, and almost jumps when he feels the faint puff of breath. "She's alive!"
"Dean, we gotta move! Now!"
Dean scoops Lucy up just as the carcass above her starts to smoke. In seconds, it's consumed by flame, reducing it to little more than a puddle of noxious, black ooze.
Sam snaps a picture with his phone, then shoves Dean towards the exit. "She needs a hospital, now!"
They book it out of the sewers and back to the Impala. Dean loads Lucy into the backseat with him, holding her close as Sam peels towards the nearest hospital. His heart pounds in his ears, chest tightening with every second that passes.
He starts humming Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, and doesn't stop.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Interlude, Part 6a, Part 6b
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artificialqueens · 6 years
Text
You Bring Out the Best in Me (Bengela) - vulnerose
Rambly A.N. - Hi guys! So this is meant to combine two requests I got, one being with Dela having a panic attack and the other with either Shangela/Dela being flirty and the other not noticing until said person finally makes a move. I love reading longer fanfics so I thought rather than giving two short ones, I’d just combine them into one. (And of course, why not both having a crush on each other?) Apologies if any characters here are OOC, I try my best but I haven’t written fanfiction in a long time until recently so my skills are rusty. I’m always up for prompts so if you ever want one just comment on either my posts on the artificalqueens tumblr or AO3, my user is vulnerose there as well. Andddd of course this has nothing to do with any of the people mentioned! Enjoy my loves :)
ALSO if you’d want to see a potential sequel to this just let me know. I’m honestly considering doing it, I loved writing this fic so much.
The pressure was getting too much for Dela to handle.
It was her junior year of high school, where the competition to look as good as possible academically-wise had truly kicked off. Teachers were so much tougher than they had been in the earlier years, and she found herself crying in her bedroom after school. Every. Single. Day.
It wasn’t like Dela wasn’t a good student - she was. She was a straight A all honors student, and had been since middle school. She’d decided to challenge herself to taking four AP classes, thinking she could handle the stress since she’d enjoyed taking AP Euro the previous year. But dear god was she wrong. Bio projects were daily, her APUSH teacher was super demanding and offered no test corrections, statistics was fucking her over mentally, and she could barely write a rhythm in music theory. It was draining her mentally and physically - she had to work her ass off to maintain all As. Even then, her parents still found a way to demand more out of her.
She couldn’t count the number of times she just wanted to sleep, but couldn’t because of a report she needed to write. Dela was notorious for having coffee with her every morning. She didn’t do it purposely or for show, she couldn’t survive a day without a large cup of coffee, since she rarely got more than 5 hours of sleep. In the mornings she’d put layer after layer of concealer under her eyes to cover up the ever growing bags down there, and red-reducing eye drops became her best friend. She surprisingly rarely broke out, maybe a bit of acne here and there but her skin was rather clear.
Despite all the stress eating away at her mentally, she still managed to be the sweet, always delightful girl everyone had come to know her as. She never snapped at anyone, even when they were yelling in her ear and she’d barely had any caffeine. Her image was very important to her, and she stopped at nothing to maintain it.
It was midterm time, the most stressful time of year by far, second of course to finals. Dela had anticipated this week for a bit now, studying hard for long hours and attempting to prepare herself mentally. Each midterm intercepted at least one other, and it wasn’t too long before Dela was aware that she’d be taking all of her midterms on one day. One fucking day. She nearly broke down in tears when she realized this.
The day before midterms started, Dela decided she couldn’t care less and allowed herself to destress completely, as she knew she’d only worsen the upcoming anxiety attacks if she worried over a stupid worksheet right now. The anxiety set in right after school, when she immediately began reading page after page in her history book, doing practice problems, rereading her English novel, practicing her flute, and working on her big bio lab that acted as a midterm that was due tomorrow.
She fell asleep at 4 after being confident she would be alright. She had to wake up at 7.
She walked into the exam room the following day, bags unconcealed, eyes red and puffy, contacts bothering her, and head pounding from a migraine. The second she was handed that paper, anxiety took off and in the most minute moment, her throat felt like it was being suffocated, tears trying to well in her eyes, head more focused on people tapping their stupid fucking feet on the ground. Her fingers and thighs were shaking, completely enslaved to the major panic attack she was experiencing. Her brain was focusing on anything but the paper in front of her. ‘You pulled your ponytail just a TAD too harsh. Now it’ll be the only thing you think about.’
She miraculously survived, and asked immediately afterwards to go to the bathroom. The panic attack was subsiding but fear began to grow again. What if she failed all of them? Would her mom disown her? What if they thought I was cheating because I was looking around the room so often? I couldn’t help myself, right? It was the anxiety, not me right?
Dela locked herself in a stall and just sat there recollecting her thoughts and allowing the panic to subside. God, how she wished someone was here to make her feel better right now. Jinkx had ended up missing midterms incredibly narrowly, as her family’s yearly trip to Seattle had been scheduled to start the day before. Jinkx always had shitty cellular up there so there was no way she’d be talking to her until after the Christmas break ended. Aja was still taking her midterms and so was Trixie, and Alaska was probably too busy with Roxxxy and Detox to watch her cry about her everything.
She pushed at the chipping nail polish on her thumb, sighing heavily as she thought. Nobody really cared for her, did they? Dela always felt that she had a sufficient friend group, people that had her best interests in mind no matter what, but the realization dawned on her that no, no she didn’t. She couldn’t think of one person that would be able to comfort her right now. That person was always Jinkx, but now she had to find a way to deal with her emotional breakdowns on her own until her best friend returned. And she didn’t know how to take that.
That is, of course, until her brain and the voices inside began to taunt her and laugh, saying she was dumb, unlovable, forgettable; the list went on and on and on. Tears began to run down Dela’s cheek as she couldn’t stop the voices from continuing to spew hateful words at her, telling her how she’s a disappointment of a daughter and how all of her friends really just felt sorry for her. That she bombed all of her midterms and she’d be rejected by everyone.
Logically Dela knew it wasn’t true - nobody would hate her for failing a test, but she couldn’t help but believe the other two. Since when had her parents been truly proud of her? And since when did the majority of the girls she called friends ever text or call her? Even hang out with her? She couldn’t think of a time, date, or place.
Dela was fully broken down and worn out, crying from stress and panic and relief and sadness all at once. She’d never truly felt so useless and vulnerable until this day in time. Dela was grateful she hadn’t worn makeup, at least there’d be no tear stains on her skin.
Her crying session was abruptly ended by a voice.
“What’s going on in there mama? Don’t know who’s in there or what’s going on but it’s something. I’m not leaving until I help you darling.”
Dela’s eyes widened as she instantly recognized the voice. Shangela Waldey. Head cheerleader, but in the few times she’s spoken with her, seemed nice. They shared a couple of classes too. Her ugly crying stopped and was replaced by quiet sniffling.
“Honey? C'mon, tell me what’s up. Or come out and I can give you a hug or something.”
A hug did sound pretty nice right now.
Dela came out of the cubicle with her face red, eyes even bluer than usual from crying, and Shangela’s heart broke at the sight. She didn’t know Dela well, but it hurt to see the usually sweet and happy girl stripped down and miserable.
“Oh sweetie…” Shangela’s arms reached out and wrapped around Dela’s body, and Dela felt a sense of comfort and relief. She continued to cry but it definitely wasn’t as audible as it’d been before. Dela tried to avoid crying all over Shangela’s cheerleader uniform but Shangela wasn’t having it and whispered for her to not worry. Shangela rubbed her back to try and relieve the poor girl, wondering who made a girl so precious and gentle cry like this.
“What’s wrong honey? You’re always so happy. Did someone hurt you?” Dela blinked at her, shaking her head slowly, both still keeping the hug.
“Wasn’t anyone. I’m so stressed out Shangela, I just finished taking all my exams today. My brain has been so fried this entire year and I’m really scared that I’m gonna do shit on them.” Dela began to bawl again as she told the girl what was bothering her. Shangela’s hand began to play with Dela’s hair as she continued to listen to the girl talk. “My closest friend is away and I can’t talk to her right now and I feel like nobody cares about me. I can’t think of one person that I could talk to right now, none of them like me. I just feel like a tremendous failure.” Shangela broke the hug, holding one of Dela’s hands in hers, other lightly pointing up Dela’s chin so she could look her straight in the eye.
“Don’t know you that well honey, it’s the truth. But from what I do know, you’re anything but what your brain tells you that you are. I’m sorry you feel that way sweetheart, because it’s not true at all. You’re not a failure, and if you really feel like you don’t have anyone that you can talk to, I’m here.” Dela’s eyes widened slightly - she wasn’t expecting that kind of a response. From the moment Shangela broke the hug she thought she would taunt her and get her popular friends to begin bullying her.
“Got a lot on your mind, don’t you?” Shangela was smiling with both her eyes and mouth, watching Dela stare into space. Dela snapped out of it almost immediately.
“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to say that.” Dela stopped momentarily to wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing. “Why do you care about me? Like you have so many friends and you’re so popular, why me?”
Shangela couldn’t help but laugh. “Girl you think I give a shit about 99% of the people I hang out with? You can’t trust them with any secrets you got, all they wanna do is get drunk on weekends, they’re barely passing their classes right now, fucking ridiculous. Partying and failing isn’t my schtick, only reason why they keep me around is because without me, there’s no cheerleading team.” Shangela so badly wanted to form a true friendship with someone, and had always found Dela to be a sweetheart - not to mention quite beautiful too - and she couldn’t pass up this opportunity to get to know her better.
Dela sat down on the bench beside them, Shangela joining her, waiting her response. Dela buried her head in Shangela’s shoulder, whispering ‘thank you’ over and over again.
Shangela felt her heart begin to fly, and she couldn’t think of why.
Shangela broke the hug, grabbing Dela’s hand and walking the both of them to the sink. “C'mon honey, let’s get your face washed so you don’t look like a hot mess. If you can let’s hang out after school.”
Dela smiled at her, dousing her face in cold water, feeling energy soar through her as it hit her face. “Sure, that sounds lovely.”
After sharing phone numbers, the two of them grabbed their backpacks, ready to head out after spending far too long in there. Shangela’s hand fumbled in the front pocket of her backpack, searching for a box of Altoids. She took one in her mouth.
“Have one girl, you need it after all the coffee you drink.” She could tell Shangela was being playful - nothing in the blonde’s voice indicated bad intents.
Dela laughed, taking one out and popping it in her mouth, the peppermint freshening her breath.
“See you soon girl,” Shangela waved goodbye, heading out of the bathroom.
Dela’s face was illuminated with the biggest smile it’s ever had. She didn’t really know why. “See you soon,” she whispered back, in the silence of the bathroom.
—————————————————
The past couple of weeks had been some of the best either of them had in their lives. They spent time hanging out as often as they could, and texted on those days they just couldn’t be together in person, especially when Shangela had work. It excited Shangela to have a real person for a friend - not a fake, popularity-obsessed one. She could talk to Dela about seemingly anything, from grades to personal issues and everything in between. Dela always listened and gave her advice when she needed it. Shangela was, for the first time, not feeling left to the side in a friendship. She felt like Dela truly cared about her and her wellbeing.
Dela didn’t know what to expect initially, but had all her doubts and scared about Shangela shut down that first time they hung out after the bathroom incident. She just had an aura consisting of genuine, loving, reality-checking behavior that Dela just loved. Shangela was never one to lie - she always told it how it was and she respected her immensely for that as it’s so easy to lie. She initially thought of Shangela being a substitute for Jinkx but she no longer viewed her in that manner - she was nothing like Jinkx. She was just uniquely Shangela, and when Jinkx returned from Seattle she couldn’t wait to tell her what’d just gone down.
“You’re friends with who?” Jinkx whisper-screamed at Dela, a bewildered look on the ginger’s face as she attempted to take in what Dela had just told her. The two were in Dela’s bedroom for a sleepover, where Dela just unraveled the news to her friend.
Dela snorted at her response. “You heard me.”
“Christ, I leave for one week and a year’s events have gone by. I’m warning you right now, if she ever hurts you or you let her I’m personally beating her into a pulp.” She pointed a finger directly at Dela when she said the last fragment of her sentence, establishing her meaning well and clear.
Dela threw a pillow in her face. “She’s not gonna do that, I promise.”
Jinkx got off the floor, rolling herself into Dela’s bed and shutting off the lamp as she turned on the TV. “Don’t make a promise too soon. Now let’s watch something before I pass out.”
—————————————————
It had been a month since Shangela and Dela had first met that day, and Dela was just now getting to see Shangela’s apartment - purely because the two had to finish a biology project they’d been assigned to work together on.
Shangela fumbled with her keys as Dela stood behind her in the hallway of the building. “It’s not much to look at so don’t be surprised.” Dela laughed as Shangela finally managed to get the door to unlock after numerous tries.
Closing the door behind her, Shangela led Dela around and allowed her to take in her surroundings. The apartment was rather simple - it had both a modern and cozy feel to it. Dela couldn’t help but notice the lack of people in the apartment.
As soon as they got to Shangela’s room, and both of the girls plopped down on her bed, Dela decided to ask her what the deal was with it. “Hey Shangie?”
Shangela’s head turned toward her, putting down her phone. “What’s up sweetheart?”
The cute nickname made Dela’s heart fly, but she tried to not let it be visible. “I’m sorry if this is rude to ask, but you appear to live by yourself, how come?”
If there was one thing that hurt Shangela slightly, it was talking about what had happened between her and her parents. Dela immediately sensed the discomfort on Shangela’s face after she’d asked her the question, and instantly felt like shit. She reached a hand out and rubbed Shangela’s shoulder in a comforting manner.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to Shangie, I’m sorry if I hurt you in anyway.”
“It’s ok, just that it’s hard what I went through with my parents.” Shangela paused momentarily, deciding whether she should say the next thing or not. “Promise you won’t judge me for what I’m about to say?”
“Unless you murdered someone, I have no judgement in my heart towards you,” Dela reassured her, smiling with her eyes.
She took a deep breath before continuing. “So when I was around 13, my mom caught me watching lesbian porn. I’d been doing watching it for a while but I got careless that one day, you know? So then my parents had a long talk with me and sent me to conversion therapy and all that shit,” Shangela took a pause, her eyes beginning to water. She hated the fact that she was about to cry like a baby in front of Dela, but she’d seen the other girl in that state before so she felt less embarrassed.
“Oh no, you poor thing.” Dela immediately engulfed her in a tight hug. “What happened after, since obviously conversion therapy isn’t a scientifically proven way to become straight?”
“I faked that it worked for a while, but last year they caught me kissing a girl and that was their final straw. They kicked me out and I haven’t spoken to any of my family in about a year.” Tears stained Shangela’s cheeks as she thought of her family; all the good memories that made her wish this all hadn’t happened. She really did love and miss her family, but she would have been even more miserable staying in the closet but being with them.
Dela could feel her adrenaline spike as she heard Shangela tell her that she was gay. “I’m gay too and my parents didn’t react well either when I came out. They told me to never talk about it again or they would throw me in the streets. I know exactly how you feel, there’s just so much hate and ignorance in this world, it sucks.”
Shangela couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief pass through her body as Dela told her that she was in the closet as well, and how she didn’t just get up and leave. Of course Dela wouldn’t do the latter - she knew the girl well enough by now to know that she doesn’t judge a soul - and she honestly wasn’t expecting her to tell her that she was gay as well.
“We really are the same, aren’t we?” Dela laughed, punching her arm lightly.
“Now I can send you pictures of girls that I think are hot,” Dela told her, winking.
Shangela couldn’t help but smile as she saw her wink. It gave shy, cunning, and flirty all at once.
Maybe it means something… maybe it doesn’t.
“Cmon girl, we all know I’m the standard of beauty.”
“Wow, society’s standards are that low?” Shangela’s mouth gaped at Dela’s answer, the once silent room filling with laughs and guffaws.
“Fucking bitch. Let’s get started with this bio project and make it good so we don’t hear Smith lecturing our asses on how we’ll fail the AP test.” Shangela couldn’t thank Dela enough for brightening up the mood, but now it was time to come up with a project worthy of at least a passing grade.
“Boo,” Dela pouted, sighing as she went to get her laptop.
“Hurry back quick so we can start baby.”
Dela was now incredibly grateful she had her back turned to Shangela so she couldn’t see how much that nickname made her blush. She returned, both laptop and her bio binder in hand and sat on the bed once more, Shangela having wiped her face of the tear-stained foundation and runny mascara and eyeliner from crying, yet chose to reapply her red lipstick. Dela couldn’t help but notice how good of a color red was on her.
“I like that lipstick shade on you, it looks so beautiful.” Dela had been pulling up the rubric to see exactly what they had to accomplish - and of course they got the project focusing on sex cells.
“Thank you darling, maybe I’ll give it to you one day,” Shangela spoke, wrapping her arm around Dela’s waist and looking on with her at the screen. Was that flirtation in her voice? No - couldn’t be, probably just meant she’d buy it for her birthday or something. The arm was an innocent gesture but she couldn’t help but feel her heart burst from it. Oh god, why was she getting so enamored by Shangela all of a sudden? She’d always acted this way around her - it meant nothing one way or the other, right?
What was this girl doing to her?
Dela couldn’t say anything else besides, “Let’s get this started.”
And so they did.
—————————————————
“Dela? Earth to Dela?” Jinkx waved a hand in front of Dela’s face, who’d been staring at her locker for the past five minutes. Dela immediately sprung back to life, twisting the combination.
“Sorry, lot on my mind right now. You have time to talk?” She shoved several books in and slammed the locker shut with her foot.
“Sure do. Let’s walk to the coffee shop, you can talk to me about your issues throughout the journey,” the redhead replied, tapping the top of Dela’s head. Dela couldn’t help but notice Shangela walk right by the two of them as they neared the front door. She winked at Dela, then began heading toward the gym, presumably for cheer practice.
Jinkx had noticed as well, and gave Shangela a confused look to her back. Nonetheless, they walked out together and Dela began the long process of explaining everything happening to her to Jinkx.
“So basically I wanna tell you something she told me the other day but promise you won’t tell anyone about it? Like, ever since I’ve known this I’ve been feeling weird things towards her and I don’t know why.”
“My lips are sealed doll.” The two decided to sit down on a bench in the park, which happened to be right by the café they’d been headed to. The ginger played with the rips in her jeans, still looking at Dela, fully alert.
Dela whispered so that nobody besides the two of them could hear. “We came out to each other. I’m only whispering in case she isn’t out yet.” Her voice leveled to a normal speaking voice. “Now I feel like everything she does is flirty, and I don’t know if I’m just being too hopeful or there might be something there.”
“What sorts of things are making you think she might like you?”
“She calls me these really sweet nicknames and I blush every time she calls me them. Like she calls me baby and darling all the time and I haven’t heard her say my actual name since the first day we met.”
Jinkx’s fingers moved onto scraping the black nail polish she had on. “Hmmm, that’s tricky because a lot of people do that sort of nickname thing with close friends. I mean, I do it to you on the daily. Buttt, it can be a sign. Give me the rundown on the rest.”
Dela began to count off with her fingers as she recited. “She gets kinda touchy with me, she’s always in the mood to hang out with me, I told her how nice her lipstick looked on her and she said she’d give it to me and I don’t know whether it’s a pass or not, you know?” She got frustrated with herself as she realized that her potential signs just sounded like Shangela being a good friend, which of course she was. “It’s so hard to explain, but I just feel like she does.”
“I bet you there’s one very obvious sign that you’ve forgotten. Think Dela, think,” Jinkx persuaded her, knowing there’s got to be one key factor to making the final verdict.
Dela hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “I mean, she’s cried in front of me, but I don’t think that’s a sign? I know she’s not known for crying but that didn’t seem like a sign to me, maybe it is.”
Jinkx’s eyes widened. “Oh no honey, she loves you. Shangela hasn’t cried in front of anyone in this school since pre-k. Which I commend her for, I can’t go for even a month without crying.” Dela felt her heartbeat speed up. “But the question is, do you like her? And I already know the answer to that, you do. Make a move on her before she thinks you’re not interested. That probably won’t end pretty.”
“You support me being with her?” Dela almost felt the eyeroll Jinkx gave her in response.
“As long as you’re happy with it, I don’t give a shit you do. But mark my words, if Shangela Wadley ever even thinks of hurting you, I will make sure she gets it.” Dela smiled, hugging her.
“Thanks dude.”
“No problem, I love being the third wheel,” Jinkx spoke, sarcastic. “You can get your girl after we finish this shift.”
Dela sighed, annoyed, as she’d forgotten completely about their shift. “Three hours of hell and I can go over to her house.”
The two got up and began heading toward the coffee shop, where they both worked. “What’re you gonna do there with her?”
“I’m addicted to Game of Thrones thanks to her now, so we planned on watching it for a movie night. Maybe a special topic will be brought up.” Dela looked at Jinkx and wiggled her eyebrows.
“Ah yes, that topic being on the role of the nucleus in a cell?”
“Sure,” Dela rolled her eyes as Jinkx laughed, both reaching the glass entrance door of the coffee shop simultaneously.
“You’re so in love.”
—————————————————
“Hey girl!” Shangela greeted Dela in pajama pants and a t-shirt, hair up in a bun. Her look may be seen as lazy and boring to others, but Dela saw her looking equally beautiful as she did all made up. Shangela enveloped Dela in a hug.
“Hi Shangie!” Dela’s hair was wet and cold against Shangela’s scalp - she’d probably just washed it - and Shangela didn’t care one bit. It was unlike her and she knew that - cold wet hair was her worst enemy.
Everything is appealing when it’s done by the one you love, isn’t it? Shangela shook that thought out of her head. It was time to accept the fact that Dela had no feelings for her in that way and just thought of her as a close friend. The thought of that pained her, but she felt like it was obvious at this point. Dela probably would have made a move on her by now if she liked her, as Shangela thought her flirting made it clear that Shangela liked the other girl.
God, she really needed to get out of her head for a second, didn’t she?
“Hey girl, need help with your stuff?” Shangela asked, noticing Dela carrying a bag with night clothes, which appeared to be rather heavy. Dela shook her head in refusal, but her eyes glimmered, thanking her for the offer.
“Can I leave this in your room?” Shangela waved her off, giving the signal to do whatever the hell she wanted. Dela ran across the living room to the bedroom, plopping the bag on her bed before coming back to the couch where Shangela was sitting, curled up in a blanket. “How rude of you to not give me one too.” Shangela laughed.
“Girl please. Go steal one from my room.” And so she did.
Dela returned with a blue blanket, with the pattern being the phrase ‘Halleloo!’ written all over it. “The most Shangela one I could find,” Dela mumbled while curling herself into a ball with the blanket, her head lying on top of Shangela’s lap purposely as the two sat on the couch. The blanket smelled like her too, and Dela couldn’t get enough.
Shangela ruffled Dela’s hair, smiling at the girl. “Excellent choice dear. Let’s watch this shit now.” Dela wooed in response.
For the next hour or so, the two girls stared at the screen, Shangela making remarks on how she was literally Daenerys or how she was the mother of the dragons. Dela would just smile in response, enjoying the sweet moment as Shangela gently stroked her hair, treating her with care and caution. The tension between the two was clearly thick to anyone but them. After a second episode had concluded, Dela flipped her body around so she was facing Shangela, but her head still in her lap. Shangela looked at her confusingly, the movement drawing her attention away from the credits.
“I wanna ask you something,” Dela said, looking up into Shangela’s eyes, who at this point had retracted her hand from the other.
“What’s up?”
“Do you like anyone?” Um, duh, is what Shangela wanted to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to be that brash. Hesitation evident, she eventually responded.
“Mhm.”
“Cool, I do too.” That phrase had sunk any hopes Shangela had of Dela liking her, and all she wanted to do was cry. “Let’s play a game.”
Shangela raised her eyebrows at her. “A game? What do you mean?”
“Like,” Dela paused for a moment to collect her thoughts before sitting up, “We each reveal one characteristic of the person we like so we can guess who the other likes. We say 5 qualities and at the end we have to guess.”
Fuck it, why not? “You go first darling.”
“Sure.” Dela was happy yet extremely nervous, wondering if her plan would blow over. “She has blonde hair.”
“What a specific quality.” Dela smirked. “She has black hair.
Dela thought for a moment before saying the next trait. “Her first name is eight letters long.” Shangela raised an eyebrow at her. Ok work, she thought. Shangela barely knew how to spell her own name, let alone the number of letters in it.
“Hers is four letters long.” Dela wanted to gape, but knew she couldn’t. Who else had black hair and a four letter name?
“Hmmm, she’s a cheerleader. A pretty good one at that.” Shangela was almost positive she could hear her heart pounding out of her chest when Dela said that. It’s gotta be her, there was literally no other person in the school it could be.
Shangela thought for a moment before saying the next hint. This could either blow up in her face or make her the happiest person in the world. “She was crying in the bathroom about finals one day and I helped her out.” Shangela both couldn’t wait to see Dela’s reaction and feared it.
She felt Dela’s hand graze hers, and was petrified as Dela hadn’t responded right away. Dela’s other hand brushed the curly blonde hair out of her face and stroked her cheek lightly.
“It’s me huh?” Dela asked her in a faint voice. Shangela wanted to roll her eyes so hard at that question. No, it’s the fucking Pope.
“Mhm, if you don’t feel the same I’ll never mention this aga-” Shangela had been cut off by Dela pressing her lips against her own. Her body had tensed up immediately before relaxing into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Dela. Everything felt right. Dela’s lips were warm and so soft, and her thumb continued stroking Shangela’s cheek as the two shared the first out of many tender moments.
Dela broke it, tears welling up in her eyes as she realized the reality of this. This girl loved her. She vowed to herself to treat her like a goddess, as she deserved nothing less than that.
“It’s so early but I want to let you know that I love you, and I have for the past couple of months. You’ve made my life so much better and I feel genuinely happy whenever I’m around you, it’s not the fake kind that I give to most of the people in school,” Dela didn’t look Shangela in the eyes speaking this, focusing on chipping the nail polish on her fingers. Shangela tightened her grip on Dela, rubbing her back with her hand lightly and stroking through her hair with the other.
“Same here baby. I love you so much, and I hope you know that. You bring out the best in me.” Dela gave her that smile - that beautiful fucking smile that she loved so much - and buried her face into Shangela’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe it took us so long to admit it to each other,” Dela said, breaking the silence they’d had momentarily. Shangela leaned in to give her another warm peck on the lips before agreeing with her.
“Whatever, we have each other now and I can shower you in love.” Dela smiled against the skin on Shangela’s shoulder.
“Sounds great.”
Shangela turned off the TV, lifting the girl still wrapped in her blanket as she shuffled her way to her bedroom, still wearing hers. Dela kisses the same spot on her cheek repeatedly throughout the short journey, and let out a whine when Shangela released her from her grip, leaving her on the bed under the covers. She removed the blankets from their bodies and discarded them haphazardly across her room. Shangela joined her in the bed, Dela snuggling up against her warm body as Shangela hugged her tight, pressing a kiss into her neck before beginning to doze off.
As they began to fall asleep, they were over the moon as they were finally able to lie in bed with the one they loved.
—————————————————
After that weekend, they made a promise to each other to not keep it a secret. Of course, not rub it in everyone’s faces, but to not avoid little things like holding each other’s hands in the halls or sneaking kisses when nobody was looking (or so they thought).
That Monday morning, Jinkx was all but shocked seeing the new couple hugging in front of Dela’s locker, which wasn’t too far from Jinkx’s. She smirked at Dela, mouthing 'I told you so!’ before being waved off by a flip of the middle finger by Dela.
Eventually, the two had to part, as they had different home rooms. Their different classes didn’t stop them from all their thoughts being consumed by one another.
Lunch time rolled around, and Dela was thoroughly surprised when she saw a particular girl with winged eyeliner and red lipstick coming her way. “Oh look who decided to join me for once?” She spoke teasingly, Shangela rolling her eyes.
Shangela sat next to her. “I don’t give a fuck about my old 'friend’ group anymore.” Shangela said, emphasizing the word friend with finger quotation marks. “I have you and I really don’t care what they have to say about me anymore.” Dela looked lovingly into Shangela’s eyes before pressing her lips against hers. People were probably staring but they didn’t care - let them stare.
They pulled apart way too quickly for either of their likings, but neither girl wanted to get in trouble by the staff. Dela’s lips had become a faint red from her lipstick and Shangela loved the way it looked on her more than anything.
“I’m getting you to wear red lipstick soon, it looks so nice on you.” At this moment, Jinkx and the rest of Dela’s small friend group had joined the table, everyone but the three who knew gaped at the situation. Shangela simply smiled and greeted them all warmly, getting to know the rest of Dela’s friends. Some of the popular group that had been used to Shangela being with them had caught notice of the situation.
“The fuck is she doing?” Violet questioned to Ginger and Manila, confused as hell as to why Shangela was hanging out with new people, much less why she was getting all touchy with a band nerd - Dela. “What’s gonna happen to the cheer team now?”
Both girls were about to agree with her when a voice came up behind them. “I’m fine with it. She looks really happy.” Manila turned her head to see who was speaking.
It was Raja.
“But-” Ginger began to speak before Raja shut her down.
“Honey she’s never looked happier than she does right now. Let her live. Shangela’s staying on the team, she told me.”
The trio nodded their heads reluctantly, continuing to watch the scene a bit more before turning back to their table.
Despite attempting to focus her attention on the new girls, Shangela’s mind and eyes would always go back to Dela. She couldn’t help herself, and Dela winked at her when the period was close to being over, letting her head rest on Shangela’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around her waist. Shangela looked at her, her heart being warmed as Dela’s beautiful blue eyes sparkled and glittered at her. She was perfect.
“You guys are so fucking cute,” Aja said. The whole table noticed the scene occurring when Aja had pointed it out and began squealing. Dela’s face flushed with embarrassment, but Shangela, being the girl she was, leaned in to kiss her. The squeals turned into 'aw’s and they pulled apart at the exact moment the bell rang.
Although they had to part ways since they didn’t share their last two classes together, Shangela followed her to the band room, not caring if she was late. Dela refused to let her but Shangela was resilient.
As they turned a corner, Dela mumbled, “I love you,” into Shangela’s ear. The shorter of the two whispered the same thing back, and there they were at Dela’s stop.
“So movie date tonight?” Shangela asked her. The two didn’t have plans but fuck it, why not make some?
“By movie you mean Game of Thrones? Of course. I’m surprised you’re not sick of me after being around me literally twenty-four seven.”
“I could never get sick of you, you stole my cold dead heart. Now go in before your teacher yells at you.” Shangela stood on her tippy toes, pressing a kiss into Dela’s hair before running off before she was insanely late. Dela’s face had a bright smile plastered on it, her heart warm and full.
She was perfect.
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Text
Arms crossed over her chest, she stares right at him, eyes not wavering.
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not," he simply answers, his tone matching hers as he keeps writing whatever he's on, unphased. She barely holds back an annoyed sigh. Doesn't, really.
"I work better alone, Perry. You know that."
"You've never even tried to work with someone."
"That's because I don't need to." He snorts.
"Are your ankles okay?," he asks ironically, sparing her a brief, amused glance before getting back to his papers. She rolls her eyes.
"They're fine, thanks. And I don't need assistance."
"I know you don't, Lois - otherwise you'd already be at the door, because that attitude of yours is starting to get on my nerves," he reprimands, glaring as he finally puts down his pen and glasses to give her his full attention.
She simply glares back, and he sighs. "The guy is just a stringer, but everything he's send me so far is pretty solid, and I have yet to not publish it. He digged up the story, and he deserves to be the one to investigate it and bring it to light."
She frowns.
"If it's his story and he's so deserving, why are you sending me over there?"
"Because the scale of it is new for him. He's never had to investigate on something that big before. But," he quickly adds before the protest leaves her mouth. "I think he can handle it - he just needs a little help. You're the best around, I think you two could make a good team, and he's good enough that you can actually work with him without getting annoyed."
"Great. So now I'm a baby-sitter," and it's his time to roll his eyes. "Thanks, Perry, I really appreciate all the new experiences I get to live thanks to you."
"Well actually, Mrs Sassy, I think you are going to end up thanking me on this one."
Rising her eyebrows at him in challenge, she balances her weigh on one foot, unimpressed.
"Really? How so?" He smirks.
"The story involves Luthor Corps."
It takes everything she has, but Lois keeps a straight face. He knows he's won, though. Smartass.
"So, do you want to work on a story that can break the perfect image of one of the most famous and beloved billionaires in the country you've always suspected, or are you too busy pouting about having to share it?"
Deliberately choosing to ignore his satisfied smirk, she heads towards the door, not without making sure of sending another glare his way with a mumbled 'Fine'.
Right before she leaves his office, Lois turns back to him, frowning.
"What's his name, anyway?"
"Clark Kent."
She arrives in town early in the night - although the word 'town' is a bit of a stretch, given the size of it. Apparently, the guy decided not to enter the twenty-first century along with everyone else and doesn't have a cellphone, so all she has is the address and time he gave Perry a couple of days ago.
That, and a pretty odd request from the mysterious prodiguee.
Closing the door of her rental behind her, Lois tightens her jacket around herself and enters the old bar where they're supposed to meet. The place is pretty standard: rusty wooden stools, a pool table, dimmed lights, a few booths at the end of the room. A small scene where musician probably comes once in a while, with a dark and dusty velvet curtain behind it. The smell of whisky hangs in the air, and the two morons looking at her like she's some kind of meat are already getting on her nerves.
Ignoring them, she heads towards the bar, and the sixty something year-old man behind it.
"Hi. I'm looking for Joe Cooper, do you know him?"
"Yeah, that's him, over there," he responds, pointing towards a broad figure at the end of the room before going back to his clients. Muttering a quick 'Thanks', Lois adjusts her bag, and walks to her soon to be co- worker, stopping right behind him.
"So: can I call your Clark, or are you sticking with Joe?," she asks, just loud enough for only him to hear. He immediately turns and looks at her, surprise registering on his face.
The first thing that crosses her mind is 'Wow, is that guy tall'. She didn't notice it before, as he was crunched down above the table, but he is. Blue eyes (very blue), black curly hair, strong jaw covered with a three day beard that quite suits him.
Lips slightly quirking up, she extends her hand. "Lois Lane. I was told you had a story that was worth checking?" His shoulders immediately relax, and he shakes her hand.
"Right. Nice to meet you, Mrs Lane," he says, voice deep as he gives her a polite smile. It's a good smile, she decides.
Breaking contact, he gestures towards the bar. "And sorry about that, but Joe would be better around here, if you don't mind."
"Lying to your employer, huh? You sure know how to live on the wild side." His grin grows, amused this time, and, bending his head down for a second before looking back at her, he nods.
"I guess you could say that, yes." His expression then turns apologetic. "I'm sorry, but my shift only ends in fifteen minutes," he starts, visibly bothered by having to make her wait. She waves his apology away.
"It's fine – I'm early: it's my fault, anyway. Can I wait for you here?" she points to the table behind him. He moves aside.
"Of course," and he lets her settle on the bench. "Can I get you anything?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Okay. I'll be right back, then." And, with a small smile she answers, he gets back to work.
He's – okay, she thinks. So far. She knew Perry wouldn't have bothered with an asshole, anyway, but she had had more than a few sexist, machist, idiotic encounters in her line of work. She learnt to handle it pretty fast, whether it was mesuring dicks with them before setting things straight, or immediately announcing that she wasn't going to take any shit just because she had a vagina.
So far, it had always worked – or at least, had always gotten her what she wanted.
But he's not like that. She's pretty good at assessing character quickly, and that guy strikes her more as the polite, discreet, well-raised and good-manered gentleman type than the ego maniac, jerk one.
Good. At least she won't have to put up with anything she doesn't have the time for.
Getting her notebook and research out of her bag, Lois takes her eyes off him, and focuses back on the investigation.
She snaps back out of her thoughts and of the theories already building in her head and into the world when a beer is suddenly but carefully settled right in front of her. She looks up to see him take his white apron off before he sits opposite her.
"It's on the house. To make amends," he says simply, then continues at her questionning look. "Mr White told me you weren't exactly thrilled to work with a stringer, so consider this a peace offering." Her eyes roll almost from themselves, but he doesn't look mad.
"Let me guess: he told you I'd act like a jerk and treat you like a newbie."
"No. Well, not on those terms, anyway," and the corners of his lips go up in a discreet smirk. An amused one, she thinks.
"I just like to get a raise out of him," Lois shrugs as she reaches for her glass. "And he did take me off guards. I am a little skeptical about the team work thing, I'll give you that, but I'm not gonna be an ass – you can relax, Joe," she assures, a little smile he returns on her lips. "Besides, I read your stuff: it's not bad." Pursing his lips, he nods.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he says, the note of amusement so subtil in his voice you could almost miss it.
And with a sense of humor, apparently.
"You should. Thanks for the beer," she gestures, taking a sip.
After her three hours drive, it feels like heaven. "So, fill me in: what did you find?"
Expression turning serious, Clark Joe obliges, telling her all about the shaddy deals he noticed while working on the oil plateform near here (she mentally makes a note to find out what the hell he was doing working on an oil plateform, at some point), how he connected it to Luthor Corps, what proof he has or can get, who he can and has talked to. They talk for almost an hour and a half, Lois stopping him only to ask details or enlighten some points. They exchange points of views, ideas, throw theories back and forth.
He really is not bad, for someone who doesn't have much experience in deep investigations (his words). There's some things to correct, of course, and room for improvement, but she doesn't think she's going to have to carry him or anything – he's doing just fine.
(Then again, Perry probably wouldn't have sent her here, if he thought she would have had to. He knows better.)
"Did you start interviewing the witnesses? Employees?"
"I thought about it, but – I've never really done that before. I thought it was best to wait for you." Shaking her head slighty, Lois chuckles.
"At least you're honest about it."
"I never pretended to be a real journalist," and she knows he's not taking it the wrong way when she sees amusement in his eyes. Nice ones, really. "To be honest, I thought Mr White was going to give the story to another reporter all together." She archs an eyebrow.
"And you called him anyway? Not really the kind of right moves, if you want to build a reputation for yourself."
Finishing his own beer, Clark simply shrugs.
"The important thing is that the story gets out, not my name on it."
Well...aren't you an odd one. "So, how much time do you think we need?"
Shaking her head slightly, Lois hides her chuckle, and answers.
"Not long, really. You've done most of the work, so I'd say four or five days, just so we can re-check some things, maybe talk to a couple more people, then edit." She smirks. "You should get back to being a dedicated waiter in no time, don't worry. "
He doesn't miss a bit.
"Wonderful: I wouldn't want to compromise my rise to the top. Speaking of which, I should probably get back to it now, if I don't want to get fired." Lois frowns at that.
"Didn't you say your shift was over?"
"I took an extra one," he explains, helping her gather all the documents she had laid down. "I have a passion for fine jewellery I need to finance," he deadpans, glancing up at her, and Lois holds back her chuckle.
"Right. I could tell you were the type – I bet pearls look great on you."
The next day, she comes back to meet him for breakfast. He manages to get several breaks along the day, and they make considerable progress, putting the puzzle together piece by piece. It's even more satisfying knowing that this could finally help show Luthor's other (and true) side to the world.
She never trusted him – never bought his whole perfect, progressist, nice, smooth guy act. Way too suspicious for her taste.
Working in duo is not that bad - or at least, working with him isn't. It sure is different, but bouncing of ideas and leads off of each other is an interesting way of approaching a job she usually handles exclusively alone. A stimulating one, even. It certainly seems to help reach the goal, and the fact that the process is not unpleasant is a plus, she supposes.
As it turns out, her suspisions were right. Clark Kent slash Joe Cooper has his way with words, and gets the hold of things pretty quickly, managing to follow easily once she's shown him the path. But he's also very perceptive, very smart. Hell, probably even smarter than her.
("You read a lot, don't you?" she asks him at one point after he's raised her suspisions and curiosity yet again, her eyes on his endearing focused scowl while he re-reads an official Lex Corps report. Frowning, he looks up, a bit confused.
"Uhm - yeah, I guess. It was kind of an escape thing as a kid, so," he admits. Sensing a sensitive spot she doesn't want to push, Lois nods. Then, smiles.
"I bet your favorite book was from Spinoza or something." He smiles back.
"Platon, actually," and she rolls her eyes.
"Of course it was.")
He's clever, intuitive, yet...maybe not shy, exactly, but – reserved. That's definitely the word for it, now that she thinks about it. Watching him, and particularly watching him interact with others, even in that short of a time, the reporter in her can't help but motice how discreet he is, self-effacing. It looks like he's been here for at least a month, if not more, yet he doesn't seem to have bond with anyone, or given any detail about his lie and identity all together.
She doesn't mind. As far as she's concerned, as long as they're not screwing something or somedy over, everybody has the right to have their own private thing going, reason or no reason.
Still, Lois thinks that his particular story would be one she wouldn't mind hearing.
"Three days in, and I still didn't get one complaining call or whiny text. Does that guy drug you or something?"
Letting her motel room door shut behind her, she rolls her eyes.
"That's very funny, Perry. Have you been taking comedy classes from Lombard or something?" Kicking off her shoes, she listens as he snorts on the other side of the line.
"I'll take that as a no. So, how is the article coming along?"
Things run their course. They dig in, he learns, the investigation progresses. They work in their usual booth, once in her motel because she can only take so many drunk men yelling at the damn football game.
(He doesn't say anything, but she can see his eyes linger on the TV as they go out of the bar. Men and their sport.)
The next day, it's well past nine when they finally end their round of interviews. She's pretty satisfied with the results and, for a rookie, Clark's done very well yet again, but she's exhausted and God – starving.
Throwing her bag at the end of the bench, Lois lets herself ungraciously fall on it with a growl. He smiles.
"Worn out yet? I thought you were supposed to be unstoppable." The mocking irony in his tone makes her send a glare she doesn't really mean.
"Ahah. Don't pretend you're not glad you don't have a shift right now, witty boy."
"Not even going to try," he concedes. "We made good progress though, right?"
"Definitely." Her lips quirk up. "You're not as helpless as you could have been, Kent," she teases him. She likes doing that, she finds. Again, that makes him smile, then nod in fake gratitude.
"Thank you – that really means a lot. Same to you." Her chuckle is cut short as soon as she smells the french fries approaching their table.
"Here," the girl – Chrissy, she's learnt – says politely as she put the sacred little basket of greesy goodness in front of them. Lois isn't even sorry for the way she immediately leaps on the damn thing. "Your orders should be ready soon."
"Thanks," Clark politely smiles, sending her an amused look before focusing back on his co-worker as she talks again.
"So: how is the investigation going?"
"Well, thanks. Joe here still has a lot to learn," Lois emphasizes, keeping a straight face as she feels his amused gaze on her. "But he's alright," she shrugs non-chalently, stealing another fry.
"I'm sure. Are you going to be done soon?," and even if she looks at her, too, Lois can't help but notice how her eyes linger on Clark – and the small, smitten smile that doesn't leave her face while she does.
"I'm not sure. Lois?"
Trying to hide her amusement, she shrugs again.
"A couple of days, maybe three? We'll see, but it shouldn't take that long."
"Oh, okay. Well, I should get back to it," the young woman motions behind her. "Enjoy." And, with a last smile towards Clark, she heads back to the bar.
Taking a sip of his beer, he focuses back on her, then frowns.
"What?"
"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend, Clark Joe."
"I don't," and she raises an eyebrow at him as she throws another fry in her mouth. "Chrissy and I are just friends."
"Right."
"We are. It was just - " He stammers a little, getting embarassed. She finds it surprisingly cute. "It wasn't a big thing. And it's over now."
"Look at you, all blushing," she grins, not able to hold back her chuckle when he tries to glare at her. "Okay, I'll stop. But just so you know, it doesn't look like her crush is going anywhere."
"Lois - "
Taking pity on him, she holds up her hands in surrender, a small smirk still floating on her face.
"Fine. Entertain me with something else, then." Relaxing, he shakes his head at her, half amused, half exasperated.
It's not a bad look on him, either.
"With what?"
"Well, first, the obvious question: what is a guy like you doing serving beer instead of taking a proper reporter gig?" He smirks, looks at her. Kind of a - mysterious look, for lack of a better term.
(How ironic, for a journalist – for her. Then again, there's something about him since the beginning, something she can't quite put her finger on.)
"What does 'a guy like me' mean?"
"Fishing for compliment? Really?"
"I'm just trying to understand what you're saying."
"You're just trying to avoid the question."
Giving in, he sighs, and even though she can tell he's not mad, he's careful.
"There's a lot of – unanswered questions about my past. I need to find the answers before I can consider the proper gigs and the proper life."
A part of her wants to dig in, but, feeling a touchy subject, Lois decides to let it go. Which is a first, really – usually, touchy subjects make her pen itch.
"Alright, mystery boy. Tell me where you come from, then. Unless that's classified information too?"
There's a small smile that makes her think something's getting past her before he answers – again. It takes all that she has for Lois to ignore her instincts.
"I grew up in Smallville – it's in Kansas. And now I'll let you get that clever comment you're dying to make off your chest."
"I'm hurt, Smallville," she feigns, proud of herself when he rolls his eyes at the surname. "I would never. Although you do have to introduce me to all your cows and chickens, one of those days."
"No cows, I'm afraid. Lots of corn, though – and a dog."
"Now I'm just jealous."
"I'm sure. What about you? Where did you get that subtil sense mockery from?"
"Oh, all over – Kansas excepted, I'm afraid," she winces in fake apology. He relaxes back on his seat, sighing.
"I can't believe I didn't realize how big a mistake telling you that was."
"Poor thing. Don't worry though! there's plenty to make fun of in my up-bringing, too. Army brat," she explains, pointing at herself with her thumb. "And I bet I've lived in places far more isolated than corn specialist Smallville."
Chuckling, Clark smiles. "Entertain me, then."
Thirty-five hours later, they're done.
A last coma here, a word change there, and here it is: Lois Lane and Clark Kent's collaboration article. His first major publication, her first by-line.
The first of many articles exposing Luthor's questionnable activities to the world, she hopes.
"Do you think it will make a difference?"
"I doubt it," she admits, not wanting to lie to him. His disappointed, hurt puppy expression makes her smile. "But it's a start. Luthor is a powerful man: it will take something huge to make him fall from his pedestral. But our story is a first step – if anything, it will at least install doubt in people's mind."
She shrugs. "Or it could be a total disaster," she deadpans, making him laugh. "Come on, the next round is on me."
His eyes eyes light up, amused and teasing.
"So I take it you thought I did a good job, then?"
Containing her own grin, she gives him a fake unimpressed look, and makes a face.
"Decent."
He smiles.
They spent the next hour and a half sitting in their booth, the first beer quickly turning into a second, a third.
By the time they get up, Lois is way more dizzy than she should.
"You can wipe that smirk out of your face, Smallville," she hisses at they exit the bar, trying her best to glare at him.
He raises his hands, playing innocent.
"I didn't say anything." The amusement in his eyes, however, says a lot. She grunts.
"Whatever."
"Sober as you may be," he starts, the insolent bastard, "can I walk you to your motel?" She crosses her arms at him.
"I'm perfectly capable of walking by myself, Kent."
"Maybe I just want to walk with you," he smiles a smile she can't help but returning. Rolling her eyes for good mesure, Lois hooks her arm to the one's he's offering to her.
She tells herself that the warm feeling settling in her stomach as they start their journey back to her motel is purely alcohol-induced.
"So."
"So."
"What's the next move for you, Clark Joe? Are you planning on staying here for long?" He shrugs against her.
"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it yet."
"Is there more to take out of this place?," and Lois feels his eyes move to her.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you said you needed to find answers, right?" He nods. "Do you think you can find them here?"
She swears his shoulders shift a little at that, his blue eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. He shakes his head slightly.
"I don't think so. I didn't really think I'd find them here in the first place," he chuckles, even though there isn't much humor in it.
In the early night, she can see him swallow down, and hears the slight sadness in his voice. "I don't even know where to look, to be honest."
In the seven days that she'd known him, it's the first time Lois hears him like that. She knows he's not doing it on purpose, that he's not even fishing for compassion, but there's hurt in his voice, desperation. It's raw, and yet, quieted down – like him.
Like he's been carrying a burden for long, so long, and has always made sure to keep it his own, to keep his pain hidden and to himself.
She aches for him. A simple sentence, and yet she's just -
It takes her a moment to get her voice back, which is suprising, a small part of her notes. Lois Lane doesn't really react like that. She's not immune of the horrors she sometimes witness in her job, of course, but she doesn't usually get like that for people she just met, people in general – not so suddenly, not so deeply.
"I'm sorry," she eventually manages, her hand momentarily tightening around his arm. "Maybe I could help: looking for answers is my job."
His eyes meet hers, and this time, his smile is genuine. Grateful. He looks at her for a few seconds, and she thinks she sees something else in there, too.
"I think this is something I have to do on my own. I'm not sure anyone can help me – although if there was, you'd definitely be my first choice," he adds with fake seriousness, teasing.
Lois smirks back. "Well, I should certainly hope so, Smallville. I mean -"
But that night, Lois doesn't get to finish her sentence.
Everything goes fast – so fast.
A flash of light. Tires scrunching. They both turn around, but it's too late. Their smiles froze. After its missed turn, the huge truck coming in front of them tries to get the control back. It does. Its truckload still goes free.
As she watches the huge pieces of wood coming at them, Lois feels herself pulled back and towards the ground. But the ground is covered in ice and they slip, and her head hits something.
The last thing she sees is the tree trunks crashing down on them, and Clark's entire body shielding her as she understands that they're going to die.
After that, everything goes black.
Her head hurts.
That's first thing Lois' aware of as she slowly regains consciousness. She vaguely registers that it's raining, that she's warm, most probaly in her motel room bed. She tries opening her eyes, but it takes more effort than it should.
After a couple of tries, she finally succeeds. With a growl, she painfully sits up, and, as she leans on her right arm, yelps in pain – and that's when it all comes back to her. The bar, the walk, the truck.
Clark.
"Clark." Suddenly wide awake, she frantically looks around her room for him, but he's nowhere to be found. She's alone.
Dropping on her back, Lois lets the enormity of it all dawn on her. He's – Hell, she doesn't even know what he is. What she does know, however, is that the man saved her life.
She can't remember much, but she remembers enough to know he's perfectly fine. At least six tree-trunks have fallen on his back - and given that she's still alive and in one piece, probably broke and bounced off his back – and he was unarmed, the vague memory of him carrying her, whispering that she was going to be okay, inked in her brain.
Wow.
A thousand theories immediately start running in her head. Scientific experiment? Struck of lightening, maybe? Simple very strong body structure? But no, this couldn't be it: no matter how much time spent at the gym, no man would have ever survive that. Plus, Clark clearly isn't the type to go the gym seven hours a - Lois suddenly freezes.
Unless he's not a man – unless he's not human.
As crazy as it may seems, the thought makes sense. She's willing to bet than no Guinness book has ever recorded such a strong amount of strengh on this planet, so the most logical explanation is that he comes from another one, and just happened to live here, on Earth. Sure, he looks exactly like a human-being, but Lois' never believed in the small green alien cliché.
She's never believed in aliens, period – until today.
But that's what he must be. Clark Joe Kent – an alien. Holy freaking hell.
His words come back to her. 'There's a lot of unanswered questions about my past', he had said. 'I need to find the answers.'
"I bet you do, Smallville," she whispers to herself. He wasn't from Smallville, though, she mentally corrects herself. He'd lie about that. Which would be understandable, really.
Yet, she's not sure he did. He certainly didn't seem to be lying, talking to her about his town, about his farm, about his parents. Were they aliens, too? But something wasn't right.
Not only he didn't appear to be lying, Lois believes with all she had that he was sincere, the previous night. He needed answers, he'd said. 'I don't even know where to look, to be honest. I'm not sure anyone can help me.' The people that raised him weren't like him, then.
He was alone.
Lois is surprised to find herself feeling more compassion than curiosity at that realization.
He is, though, which would explain a lot: somehow, he had ended up in a farm in the middle of Kansas, was raised by regular Earth people, grew up wondering about his origins, and was now living to find the truth. Hence, the not so normal life, the lack of proper jobs.
He was probably too busy and desperate to find out where he came from for that – and probably didn't want to stay too long in the same place, at the risk of accidently revealing himself at some point. By helping people, she thinks.
Like he helped her.
Only hesitating for a second, Lois gets up from her bed, grabs her jacket, and heads towards the door.
As soon as she walks in, she knows something wrong.
As she crosses the treshold, Lois immediately scans the room for any sign of him, but the music suddenly stops, and her attention is instantly drawn to the far corner of the bar, where all eyes are directed.
"Or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," she hears Clark's deep voice.
Making her way into the small crowd gathered, she sees his familiar broad figure, his back to her, as the man in front him responds.
"I think I'll probably just leave when I'm good and ready." And with that, he throws his beer in Clark's face. Laughter rises among the men.
Her blood runs cold.
Clark doesn't immediately reacts, his head still down, and there's a second of silence again before he looks up. Lois can't see his face, but as she starts to move to untie his apron and teach the son of a bitch a lesson, he speaks again.
"Oh, there he is," he says, proud of himself, before pushing him.
Except Clark doesn't move.
The movement was hard, violent, but he doesn't move, and instead, it's the man that almost goes flying, stumbling as a glass he knocked over breaks behind him. Everything stops.
The room goes silent once more, Chrissy freezes, the asshole's face is nothing but shock. Lois herself stops in her track, the tension holding everyone. After what feels like an eternity, Clark starts to move, and her heartbeat starts skyrocketing with fear and anticipation when the young waitress has the good sense to stop him.
"It's not worth it, sweetie."
He pauses, looks at her, looks at the man. Eventually, he takes his apron off, and turns away.
Lois releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. But the truck driver doesn't leave him be, feeling courageous again now that he's seen that Clark won't do anything to him.
"Hey asshole, don't forget your tips," he hisses, throwing an empty beer can at Clark's back, making his pack of idiots chuckle.
Clark stops, and just before he leaves, she sees his face, all frustration, tiredness at a humiliation that seem too familiar to him, and her chest tightens.
He's been gone for a good handful of seconds when Lois finally draws her eyes away from the door he's just exited by. The helplessness and ache she feels morphs into anger again as the jokes and chuckles at his expanse start rising.
Snickers, mockeries, brags coming for the filth that is now laughing out loud. Those are the last straw.
As she turns back to go and talk to Chrissy, Lois hears his muffled moans of pains, mixed with a few colourful names he kindly (but not too loudly, she notes) adresses to her.
She smiles.
It takes her half an hour to reach his place.
Chrissy's indications are clear enough, but it's so secluded, so far into the forest – for a city girl like her, anyway – that at some point, she thinks she's lost.
What a delightful last twenty-four hour it would have made: almost getting crushed, an alien discovery, and getting to starve and freeze to death in the freaking woods.
But she doesn't, and, after a short walk, a few curses and a barely avoided fall, Lois finds herself in front of a small wooden cabin. Hidden among the trees, the place is nothing extravagant, quite simple. Nice, though, she thinks. Charming, peaceful.
How adequate, she thinks.
His home is nothing extravagant, indeed, but as she makes her way around it to reach its front, Lois understands why Clark probably chose it.
The lake reflects the orange colored sky as the sun slowly sets, the dark trees bordering it offering a perfect contrast. It's so quiet, she's sure she could hear a leaf fall.
It's breathtaking.
Even seated, Clark imposing figure betray his physical power, but somehow, he looks perfectly in place, in the middle of that painting worthy landscape.
"You know, I never took you for the type of guy who just saves a girl from being squashed and leaves," she starts when she's reached him.
He doesn't turn to look at her, but Lois sits down anyway, settling down next to him and mirroring his position, legs hanging off the deck.
"Nice job on picking the house, by the way - very trendy. A little too big for my taste, though," and she's relieved when she hears him chuckle a little. "The lake view is pretty nice, though. My hotel room's window gives on an alley wherre drunk gentlemen like to come and relieved themselves from all the beer you serve them, so I admit I'm a bit jealous on this one."
"Sorry about that."
He finally looks at her, and Lois turns her head to meet his gaze. He's smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes - inside them, there's nothing but sadness, hurt. She hates that sight more than she expected to.
She smiles back gently. "All forgiven, Smallville. Although if you're taking suggestions, I think buying the next round would be a nice way to make amends," she deadpans, earning herself an amused look.
"Deal." They look at each other for a few seconds, before his eyes turn more serious again. Concerned, guilty, she thinks. "Are you all right?" She snorts.
Even in a situation like this, the man thinks of her first. Unexpected, from what she's seen and experienced so far from human kind – coming from Clark, she supposes it's not really that surprising. She did smell the perfect, selfless good guy type pretty quickly, after all.
"I feel like I should be asking you this." He frowns. "I went to the bar looking for you – I saw what happened."
He drops her gaze for a second, swallows.
"That was nothing," he tries to shrug it off. Shaking his head slightly, he looks back at her, and smiles a smile that she knows is not quite true. "I'm used to it, anyway," and even it was supposed to have the opposite effect, his words make her heart break a little more. "How are you feeling?"
Shaking her head in disbelief, Lois answers. "I'm all right. No pain, except for the bruise on my arm and the pounding in my head this morning that reminded me a little too much of my hangover days in college," she jokes. "But apart from that, I'm fine."
She looks at him, waits for him to look back. "Thank you." This time, his smile is sincere.
"You're welcome." Chuckling, Lois snorts.
"I can't believe I managed to get hurt in Canada. War zones in Afghanistan and Irak, I'm fine – almost empty fisher town in the world's most friendly country, and I barely avoid getting crushed," she rolls her eyes. "Thank God Perry won't know: I'll never hear the end of it."
He laughs at that, a genuine, big laugh, and she can't help her own smile. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just – well, first, that wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting from you," and she archs an amused eyebrow at that. "I was getting ready for the hundred questions a minute, to be honest."
"Oh, it's coming, Smallville - don't worry." She shrugs nonchalantly. "I just thought I'll wait a little and get you by surprise: more interesting answers that way," she says seriously, before they both chuckle. "What's second?"
"Most people usually run in the other direction, when they find out. Or go for the looks and the whispered comments whenever I'm around, which is much better," he adds with irony. The corner of his lips strech up as his eyes meet hers.
"Well, I'm not most people," she smirks. The small smile and intense, yet soft gaze he gives her at that wakes something deep down in her, straight down to her insides.
"No, you're not."
Lois suddenly feels the intensity level rise up – and the temperature, for some reason.
"And anyway," she adds in a poor attempt to pretend to ignore the warmth in her entire body and her betraying heart skipping a beat. "You saved my life, so the least I can do is act like a decent human being – it's only fair."
"You'd be surprised," he starts, eyebrows raised. "I once caught an old lady before she fell to the floor, but she saw me coming to her at a speed, well, a little too high to be considered normal."
His eyes light up with amusement. "She hit me with her unbrella and yelled at me to go back to Satan."
It's awful. It really is, but all of the sudden, the image of an helpful Clark confused as he's assaulted by a lady half his size comes to her mind, and that, the ridiculous things she was shouting, and the ridiculous situation itself added to Clark's face right now is just too much – and they both burst out laughing.
It takes them more than a few seconds to finally manage to calm down.
"God," she whispers, wiping the tears that had escaped her away. "People are crazy."
"In their defense, it's not everyday you see a man going faster than a train or coming out of flames unarmed," he argues. Lois is surprised to find that his understanding shocks her more than the fact than he's apparently able to walk through fire.
"You're always taking it, aren't you?" He frowns.
"What's that?"
"Their defense."
His smile falls a little at that.
"I was angry for a long time, actually. Not just at people – at the situation, at myself. At God." He thinks, shrugs. "But at some point, I had to decide what kind of man I wanted to be," he finally says, eyes and head far away. Years away, if she had to guess. "And beating up people just to get even wasn't that. It wouldn't help much, anyway."
After a moment, he comes back to reality. "People are not ready," he smiles, looking back at her. "Maybe they'll never be – I accept that."
Shaking her head, she huffs.
"Well, I don't. The fact that you are who you are doesn't give anybody the right to treat you like that – shouldn't mean you have to go through things like what you've just been through with that jerk at the bar," she adds, her blood boiling again.
Her hold tightens on the wood underneath them. "That's bullshit."
"Thank you." She looks back at him, surprised. After a moment, she understands what he means, and somehow, it calms her down.
"For what?" she says instead of the litany of curse words she was about to drop. "Not being afraid of you because of a few special habilities?" She snorts, both to dedramatize the situation and to make him smile. "Please, Smallville – I've been around, you know."
"Among other things, yes," he teases.
"Yeah, well, that's my point: you shouldn't have to thank me. Or to hide."
"I'm not from here."
She doesn't miss a beat.
"So?"
She holds his gaze, not willing to give him any reason to doubt her words, not willing to accept the way he's decided to seems to see himself. She means it – and what, if he's from another world? She'll concede she was shocked when she first realized, and her head is still kind of reeling at the fact that aliens do exist, and she can understand that that alone is, well, mind blowing.
But he's also just a man, in the end – a good one, at that. In just a couple of days, she's come to realize just how much, not mentionning funny, and kind, and smart. Hell, if she wasn't careful, she bet she could fall for the guy – probably already was, a small betraying inside voice whispers.
He gives her a small smile, then, his face unreadable before they both fall into silence. Eyes fixed on the other side of the lake, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
"Is that the reason for the no settling and no proper reporter gigs?" she asks after a while. "You're afraid that someone might found out?"
He thinks for a beat before answering.
"Maybe on some level, yes," he admits. "But I'm also looking for answers. Where I come from, why I'm here. Why I'm alone."
"You really don't know any of that,?" she blurts out before she can stop herself. He smiles sadly.
"No. My adopted parents found me in a field near their house – in a spaceship," he adds, amused at the look on her face. "Very sci-fi, I know."
"Tell me about it," she whistles. Then frowns. "I'm surprised the Governement didn't show up at their footstep the following day."
"They were as well, actually. For days, my mother was afraid they would come to get me – but they never did."
They leap into silence once more. Lois doesn't really know for how long, too deep into her own reflections. Over those people, that are so good, they took care and protected a small child despite the fact that it could have brought them troubles in more ways than one. Over him, so humble, so human, despite a life and situation that most, including herself, wouldn't be able to handle so gracefully, if at all.
Over how heavy a burden it must have been, for a small child to bear.
Given what he's told her and what she picked up, it doesn't seem like the people that knew were as understanding and kind as his parents.
"It must have been pretty lonely," she says after a while, her voice quiet. "Growing up, I mean." He chuckles, not much humor in it.
"Still is."
And here she is again: aching for him, somehow. Swallowing down as best as she can, Lois turns to look at him, but before she can think of anything to say, he continues, eyes still fixed ahead. "It could have been worse, I guess. My parents were great, so it helped a lot, but – I just didn't feel like I fitted in. I didn't. Hence all the reading," he smirks knowingly at her. She smiles back.
"So Plato and Aristotle were Clark Kent's best friends, huh?" She can picture him, sitting under a tree, reading to try to understand what it meant to be human.
"And don't forget Hank – my dog," he adds with a falsly serious nod, and she plays along.
"Right."
He stares back at the water before his voice rises again.
"I always had to hold back. It was more difficult when I was a kid, but sometimes - " He hesitates, almost ashamed of himself, she thinks. "Sometimes, it's like I'm fifteen again. If it wasn't for Chrissy, I'm not sure I would have stopped myself in time, at the bar," he admits through gritted teeth. Confesses, she realizes.
"I know you wouldn't have hurt him," she says confidently, not wavering for a second when his suprised eyes meet her own. "Even if the son of a bitch deserved it." She tries to keep the smirk out of her face as she shrugs. "Which is why I did."
As his expression goes from shock to amusement, Lois laughs with him.
That night, as he walks her back to her motel, they pass the bar – the bar, and the trucks parked not far from it.
Noticing his gaze, she smirks.
"Do it."
Startled, he turns back towards her, frowning. "You're thinking about destroying that douche's truck – and I really think you should." He hesitates briefly, but eventually, her encouraging smile makes his own grow. "Come on, Kent: show me what you got."
He does.
"So."
Hands in his pockets, he purses his lips, a faint smile on his face. "So."
"There's no way to make you change your mind, huh?" She thinks his smile turns a little fond. There's something else there as well, something she can't quite identify.
"I have to find out where I'm from, Lois – who I am."
"Well, you're Clark Kent, and you have what it takes to be decent journalist. A job, that, might I point out, comes with a lot of perks: this could actually help you in your research."
"Really?," he asks, amused. "How so?"
Lois just shrugs, sure of herself.
"Clearance, means to investigate what you want, helpful sources around the world – you name it. And it's the greatest job in the world, so." She breaks pretense of snobiness when he chuckles.
Her face turns more serious, then. "You can have a normal life, settle down." She sees the slight distress behind his blue eyes at that, and a part of her feels like it's what's he's always wanted, yet had always been deprieved of.
"You don't have to hide, Clark," she says, sincere. "You don't have to be alone."
Once she's sure he's heard her, she shrugs again. "And Metropolis is a pretty good place to live," she adds with a perkier tone, wanting to make that sad look from his face. She pats herself on the back when it works.
"Nice restaurants, great bars, always buzzing. Plus, it could use something other than douches."
"So I'm in the nice guys category, then?", he jokes, bragging.
"Decent," she smirks. "Don't let it go to your head, farmboy."
They laugh, and looking at his ridiculously blue eyes, Lois realizes that she's probably going to miss them. Miss him, in fact.
How about that.
She clears her throat just to make sure her stupid voice doesn't betray her before speaking again.
"Anyway: for what it's worth, I really do think that it's possible. And, most importantly, that you deserve it."
He seems to hesitate for a while, his almost hopeful gaze staring at her. But, after a moment, he drops his head, shaking his head only slightly, as if to convince himself, before looking back at her with a faint smile.
"I can't, Lois – I have to know."
"And you can look and have a life," she insists softly.
As they look at each other, she knows she didn't convince him, though. Sighing, she gives him a small smile, accepting her defeat. "Alright, Smallville," she concedes, holding up her hands in surrender. "Your choice."
There's nothing more to be said, and so they just stand here, face to face. Lois wants to kiss him, and is much too aware that she probably won't have another chance to.
So, she does.
His lips are softer than she imagined, just like the skin under her fingertips, despite the light stubble on his square jaw. She doesn't immediately open her eyes afterwards, but when she does, her face inches away from his, his are still closed.
She smiles when he looks down at her.
"Thank you for saving me, Superman."
A couple of days after their article is released, she receives an email.
"Looks like it wasn't a total disaster, after all. It was a pleasure to work with you, Miss Lane."
Perched up behind her Daily Planet desk, Lois smiles.
"Nice working with you too, Joe."
Days pass, turn into weeks. She keeps investigating, the bad guys keep getting their faces shown to the world.
She thinks about him, sometimes. Often. More than she's supposed to, probably.
It could have worked, she thinks. It's foolish to even think about it (she had only spent one week with the guy, for God's sake) and on paper, it shouldn't have. Not because of the whole alien thing – that, she couldn't care less about. It was on everything else that they weren't compatible, or at least, shouldn't be.
he was an optimictic when she was a cynical, believed in humanity when she lost faith in it a long time ago. He was quiet and reflexive, she was loud and impulsive. He was dangerously close to their human definition of perfect, and she wasoh so far from it.
And yet – yet, she believes it could have worked. She wanted it to.
Too bad destiny had other plans for them.
"Come on, Lois. When are you gonna throw me a bone?"
Leaning towards her, he smirks, apparently pretty proud of himself. "Courtside seats to the game tonight. What do you say?"
Shaking her head slightly, she barely holds back a roll of her eyes.
"I say you should go back to trolling the intern pool," she smiles defiantly, raising her eyebrows. "You'll probably have more luck, " and of course, that's the moment Jenny chooses to show up.
Her smile turns half apologetic, half amused as she hands the youg woman her article. "Sorry."
Steve simply shrugs, and turns his attention to Jenny, waving his tickets.
"Courtside?"
"Don't," Lois advices with a smile, chuckling as she gets back to her computer when Jenny snorts.
"Lombard, Lane, I want you to meet our new stringer, I want you to show him the ropes. Lois, I'm sure you'll recognize your partner."
She's not going to lie: when she turns around, her freaking heart stops.
"This is Clark Kent," Perry finishes for Lombard's sake. "Good luck, kid," he says with an encouraging pat to his shoulder, then leaves.
Leaving her shocked, speechless, questionning what's she's seeing, and probably gaping.
He's shaved, wearing a tie and a plaid dress shirt she'll probably tease him when she regain the abilily, and has the dorkiest pair of glasses perched up on his nose, but there's no mistaken – standing right in front of them, Clark Joe himself.
His short exchange with Steve gives her time to get her self-control back - or at least, enough to get up, control her smile as best as she can, and get her voice back.
The stupid thing in her chest, however, is still going wild.
"I thought cold fisher towns were more your style, Kent," she manages, painfully aware of Lombard's presence next to them. She takes comfort in the fact that Clark seems to be having as much trouble as her containing his grin.
"I thought a change of scenery would be nice," he simply answers, his deep voice almost sending shivers to her spine.
Come on, Lane. "I was told that Metropolis was a pretty good place to live," he smirks, insolent.
"Smart choice, farmboy. Well, in that case." Extending her arm, Lois fights to keep as straight a face as she can. "Welcome to the Planet."
She almost breaks at the slight shock on his face, his eyes widening for a second at her carefully chosen greeting as he takes her hand. After a couple of seconds, he smiles back, amused.
"Glad to be here, Lois."
                                                     EPILOGUE
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Nothing Is As It Seems....
So, I have a theory that while it may appear “way out there,” might not be. The only thing “way out there” about it is that I’m actually reading something into what Duff said, which I rarely do these days. 
First, read through this excerpt of the article Duff wrote on the MC FB Page about part one of the two part season finale (My reasoning is under the cut):
“Nothing tests relationships like adversity. Under challenging circumstances, links that seem formed of granite dissolve into sand. Events can be arranged to trick us into a series of phony connections – imagine a malicious GPS system - directing us from one incorrect assumption to the next, misleading us, finally, into a completely dead end.”
“Of course, deliberate “false flag” operations have been weapons of war for millennia, employed whenever enemies attempt to convince each other they are stronger or weaker than they appear. Sending the cavalry heroically galloping off the wrong way is a time-honored staple of story telling. But detective work depends on properly connecting evidence. Understanding, for example, why an antique radio was moved after a murder (and smeared with blood); putting together how a homicide victim died in the vicinity of a bomb (filled with command detonation, military grade C-4); solving the riddle posed by a killer who admitted guilt in court only to protest his innocence in prison: these are some of the puzzles facing Captain Sharon Raydor as she and her detectives spread out across L.A....” 
- (Source: https://www.facebook.com/notes/major-crimes/series-creator-james-duff-previews-part-one-of-shockwave-the-next-to-last-episod/1298787326865696)
Now, here’s where I break down my thinking further:
“ Events can be arranged to trick us into a series of phony connections imagine a malicious GPS system - directing us from one incorrect assumption to the next, misleading us, finally, into a completely dead end.” :
There’s something about this whole thing that seems off to me. It looks like this guy is simply on a revenge killing spree, yet cops seem to be present at every scene when an explosion occurs. It appears this guy is getting back at his ex girlfriend for cheating on him, and yeah killing her father will lure her back to the States for the funeral, but why make it so blatantly obvious that’s what you’re doing? Why make it so easy that end up luring the cops almost straight to you at the cemetery if your intent was only to kill your ex-girlfriend? Why put (what appears to be) multiple bombs throughout the cemetery and waste time taking pictures of every single member of the Major Crimes Squad instead of detonating them before the ex girlfriend (seemingly) is able to get away?
The events as they stand don’t add up. They’re far too calculated to simply be the work of a jealous murderer. There has to be someone else planning and orchestrating these events from behind the scenes. Someone who we know is both “calculating” and a “psychopath.” 
That ultimately only leads to one person: Phillip Stroh.
Now, if you’re thinking that I’ve gone ten shades of bat shit crazy, let me further break this down and show you where I’m coming from:
“Of course, deliberate “false flag” operations have been weapons of war for millennia, employed whenever enemies attempt to convince each other they are stronger or weaker than they appear. Sending the cavalry heroically galloping off the wrong way is a time-honored staple of story telling. But detective work depends on properly connecting evidence.”:
Yes, detective work depends on properly connecting evidence, but what if the evidence itself is designed to mislead the detectives? What if this is a classic case of misdirection or a “false flag” operation? One that’s designed to look like all the pieces fit, but in the end really don’t. Pieces that are calculatingly placed to look like they lead somewhere, therefore sending the team or the “cavalry” off in the wrong direction and searching for this jealous murdering dirtbag instead of the real mastermind behind all of this: Phillip Stroh.
Then, there are the final pieces of the puzzle:
“Understanding, for example, why an antique radio was moved after a murder (and smeared with blood); putting together how a homicide victim died in the vicinity of a bomb (filled with command detonation, military grade C-4); solving the riddle posed by a killer who admitted guilt in court only to protest his innocence in prison: these are some of the puzzles facing Captain Sharon Raydor as she and her detectives spread out across L.A....”:
Stroh is calculating and a psychopath. So, it would be just like him to make this into some sort of game. Spreading Sharon and the team out across Los Angeles chasing down false connections to riddles that don’t really exist that are seemingly connected to a man who is nothing more than a “gopher” carrying out Stroh’s game of misdirection while Stroh himself is waiting for the perfect time to execute his own plan: Kidnap and likely try to kill Rusty.
“Nothing tests relationships like adversity. Under challenging circumstances, links that seem formed of granite dissolve into sand.”
This brings me to something that happened early on in the episode, but that I think will also prove significant. Gus and Rusty have a fight. Gus gets this great job offer in Napa, but Rusty’s not entirely thrilled about it and reacts negatively. Gus leaves and goes to Napa, but Rusty later receives a text from him saying he’s in Napa, but that Rusty wins and he’s not gonna take the job. 
Something tells me Gus never made it to Napa and that text wasn’t sent by him.
Therefore...
With Sharon and the team running all around LA chasing false leads and Gus god knows where (not to mention whether he’s dead or alive), it seemingly gives Stroh the perfect opening to take (and like I said, likely try to kill) Rusty. 
Now, you might say, well, what about Andy? He’s at the station all the time. How’s Stroh gonna find an opening if Andy’s always in the squadroom and either Sharon or Andy are always at the condo when Rusty’s there? 
Well, they’re not with him every single second of every day. All it would really take would be for him to be alone in a parking garage or walking alone somewhere to get food or coffee for Stroh to strike. 
Something tells me he’s lurking in the shadows just waiting for the perfect time to strike.
Finally...
Here’s another quote from that same article if you’re still having doubts about this theory:
“This is only the first half of a two-parter, and I should be careful not to give away too much. But it might help to know that - while constructing this story - we thought we might (very probably!) be writing a series finale. At the last moment, we were issued a reprieve, and that pardon filtered down into our plot.”:
Look, I am as well aware as the rest of you that Duff is the biggest troll known to man (think that huge troll from Harry Potter) and that his cryptic as hell comments are not to be read into, but I can’t help reading into the fact that he mentions (and as many of you have pointed out in recent episodes) that the writing reflects somewhat (the very real possibility at the time) that this might be a series finale. Now, of course we all know now that the show’s been renewed for Season 6, but Duff and the writers didn’t know that when they wrote these episodes or also (more likely than not) when they filmed these episodes. While not 100% concrete proof that the cast and crew were unaware of the renewal before the majority of filming concluded, if you go to Graham Patrick Martin’s Instagram account, there’s a screenshot of a Hollywood Reporter article dated January 18th, 2017 announcing MC’s season six renewal and another photo of the Season 5 wrap party that took place on the set of Sharon’s condo, which is dated January 25th. So, it seems highly unlikely that they were aware of the renewal before January 18th. 
So, with the writing reflecting the very real possibility at the time of this being the series finale, wouldn’t it make sense that the writers would wanna wrap up the Stroh story once and for all?
Also, Duff mentions that “At the last moment we were issued a reprieve, and that pardon filtered down into our plot.”:
Personally, I’m choosing not to read a whole lot into this part because this tells us nothing of the extent to which it filtered down into the plot of 5x21 (which seems to be the episode they were filming at the time (given the timeline of renewal news and the wrap party). So, while what Duff and the writers altered and to what extent remains to be seen, it seems highly unlikely that they’d completely alter the direction of the entire story given that they wrapped Season 5 roughly a week after news of a renewal was reported.
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bandaged-heart · 7 years
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Shotgun Ch.1!
I actually wrote a chapter! And I posted it on Ao3 too if you'd rather read it there, but I'm posting it here too!!! Tbh I'm super rusty with fanfics because I've been focusing on my novel for so long that I've just... lost the touch. But hey, the only way I'm gonna get better is if I actually write things. And if I don't publish those things I'll never finish them. So here it is. Summary: at a staff member's birthday party Hajime and Momoko both had a little too much to drink, and ended up in bed! And if that didn't complicate things enough, Momoko hasn't been feeling well ever since... --- The night before had likely been wild, judging by the fact that Momoko was drawing blanks. This wasn't her bedroom either, by the looks of it. Perhaps she'd been escorted to a guard's room to sleep off the booze? A soft snore sounded from next to her. Well, that's one theory debunked. Sudden panic flooded her system. She had obviously slept with someone, but who? She was almost too scared to look, but she knew she had to. It was that or close her eyes and stumble to the door naked and blind, hoping she didn't run into anything. Yeah, no. She'd take her pride bust like an adult. It was probably Kenshirou anyway, he was probably the only person in the prison with enough balls to fuck her anyway, even when plastered. With a sigh she rolled over, fully expecting to see her loyal friend sleeping soundly. And she was already prepping her escape, provided he too had no memories of the night prior. It wasn't as if she was ashamed of a one-night-stand, it was just that while she and Ken were extremely close, she really just wasn't into him. Plus, she knew Musashi was very interested in the dog guard, and even though technically their relationship wasn't allowed, Momoko really just wanted the poor kid to be happy. And its hard to get in someone's good side when you sleep with their crush. But there was no sign of the (admittedly attractive) dog next to her. No, instead there was a sight she could have only dreamt of. It was Hajime. She, against all her rational though, squeaked. Loudly. Luckily Hajime was a very heavy sleeper when he drank, which she knew from past parties. (Nanba is the prison equivalent to a party college, lots of parties, lots of fun.) In her shock, Momoko nearly fell off her side of the bed. Her hand caught the side table, and sent a plastic bottle crashing to the floor. As she picked up the bottle, the door creaked open to reveal, thankfully, Momoko's closest confidant Mitsuru. "Hey Warden!" He thankfully whispered, "quite the night eh?" Momoko, wearing nothing but a sheet, rushed to the door. "Mitsuru, where are my clothes, what happened? Help!" He pulled her across the hall and into a different room, and handed her a pile of clothes. "I got your cutest jammies and a bottle of Gatorade for you, and I'll go start breakfast. You just relax and wait for him to get up, and don't bother trying to avoid this, he never blacks out." Momoko groaned, "he's gonna remember it?" Mitsuru laughed, "don't you want him to like you? Wasn't that like... your life goal?" "Yes, but a drunken hookup is never the way! Are you kidding me? He'll think I'm a floozy!" "Hajime has way too much respect for you to think that! Besides, if anything he'll be mortified at himself. He slept with his boss!" "Not helping!" She cried, slamming her face into her hands. Shrugging, Mitsuru ushered her into the building 13 break room for breakfast. -- Hajime had awoken not long after Momoko had, spurred by her panicked exit of the room. It hadn't taken him long to piece together the events of the night prior, cosnsidering while he was considerably drunk he didn't black out. The embarrassment and fear washed over him like an ocean, but he was confident in the knowledge that what happened wasn't suspect. No, in fact his boss's feelings were made very clear. It was then he heard the hushed voices from the hallway, and he went to the door to see a half-open door across the hall revealing Mitsuru apparently trying to calm a hectic and hungover Momoko. Mitsuru laughed, "don't you want him to like you? Wasn't that like... your life goal?" "Yes, but a drunken hookup is never the way! Are you kidding me? He'll think I'm a floozy!" "Hajime has way too much respect for you to think that! Besides, if anything he'll be mortified at himself. He slept with his boss!" "Not helping!" She cried, slamming her face into her hands. Mitsuru caught his eye, and winked as he began ushering Momoko down the hall to the break room. Hajime headed back into the bedroom and opened the now dented Gatorade bottle and chugged half of it. It made him feel a little better. He felt guilty. Even though both of them were drunk and thus not accountable for their actions, it still seemed like his fault. It made him feel mean and dirty, like he was toying with the Warden's emotions. The night prior had revealed a new side of her he wasn't used to. She was awkward, and not used to being a normal person. She opened up to him and trusted him, and now the decision was his. The door creaked open, revealing Mitsuru. "Hey dude! Boss lady's calmed down, coffee's ready if you want some. She's a little worried about it but I'm sure you got this dude!" Hajime sighed, "I appreciate your support Mitsuru, but you do realize the gravity of this situation, correct?" Mitsuru frowned, "Hajime, my guy, Momoko is just a person! A person who really really likes you, despite the fact that you're a douche canoe! And every single person who remembers last night is betting on you two! Do you really want to be the person to break Uno's betting streak?" Admittedly, it was a little comforting to know that Momoko's feelings were supported by their coworkers. Nanba was never a normal workplace anyway, and perhaps that was for the best. It only fueled Hajime's self loathing however, when he realized how alienated Momoko probably felt from the rest of them, just due to her lack of tact in casual conversation. And it's not her fault, it's really not. She just has one of those faces plus some social anxiety. Hajime knew it was only right to give her a chance. But in that same vein, didn't that ruin the legitimacy of the relationship if he was only doing it because he was obligated? It was a catch 22, but at least with the date he had a chance for a happy ending. And, admittedly, he was in awe of Momoko. She was so strong, so composed, truly an inspiring person. When Hajime thought about a potential wife and mother, he could not deny that she would be an ideal for that role in his life. Someone who could stand with him as an equal, and give that crucial standpoint he really couldn't. Raising Hitoshi mostly on his own, it was an experience. In fact, Hitoshi was the one who seemed to be raising him most of the time. It brought to Hajime's attention how much knowledge of the world he lacked, and it scared him. For years he said he'd never have children because he felt like he couldn't raise them properly. But with someone like Momoko, the supreme example of a strong modern woman, maybe he could. Maybe he could.
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I’m gonna theorize a bit about this interaction so if you don’t want to hear my midnight ramblings about team STRQ, keep scrolling.
All right kiddos, let’s break it down. First, a transcript:
Qrow: Mind if we have a minute?
Tai Yang: What, I can’t stay here?
Qrow: Tai. Please.
If your season three memory is a bit rusty, this takes place after the fall of Beacon, when Ruby is pressing Tai for answers abut what she did to the giant Grimm. Tai tries to brush it off, saying it’s not important, but Qrow -who was just outside, either because he was keeping watch with Tai or for plot convenience - offers to explain what happened. Tai immediately gets defensive, as he is asked to leave his freshly un-comatose daughter. Qrow sternly pleads.
So what interests me is everything that is implied here. There is an element of unspoken arrangement here - that Qrow would explain Ruby’s powers to here at some point. Tai seemed to understand immediately what Qrow was about to say to Ruby, and wanted to be there with her, but it was not his place for some reason.
My two interpretations are somewhat related (harhar), and simply put are additional substance to the “Qrow Is Ruby’s Father Theory”, OR that Summer Rose was also a member of one of the bandit tribes.
The first one is pretty well known, and it’s pretty easy to understand why Tai, her adoptive father (or step father) in this scenario, would be defensive about having the two of them talk about inherited family semblance/powers etc. as that would forever change the relationship they all had with each other. It would also explain Qrow’s knowledge about the Silver-Eyed Warriors, since he understood what Ruby was explaining to him regarding her use of this power. If he had been closer to Summer Rose than Tai, his familiarity with the power and it’s use would be accounted for.
The other possibility that I could think of, is that Summer was from one of the bandit tribes. This would explain Tai’s desire to be present - should Qrow reveal that less than savory truth of Summer’s past, that would change Ruby’s perception of her mother, who, until that point, had a uniformly positive legacy. It would also explain Qrow’s knowledge, and therefore authority in passing out the information. Tai may have known parts of the truth, but he knew it was Qrow’s duty to tell her the full truth. 
Other interesting things to note:
- Qrow helped Ruby unlock her semblance. Again, intimacy with Summer, OR knowledge of the hereditary nature of that semblance.
-Summer Rose, from what we’ve seen, also had the black/white/red color scheme as Qrow and Raven, suggesting a similar background OR familial ties
-ALL of Qrow’s knowledge can be explained by Ozpin’s seeming omnipotence - or at least in-depth understanding of myth, lore, and legend
Anyway, Qrow knows more about Ruby’s abilities than Tai, and I cant help but feel that this is going to bear emotionally distressing fruit in the future!
Cheers!
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