#pro: blanche feelings

[heartofstanding]

hate my brain is like "haha what if i buy this book of german essays so i can painstakingly photograph the article about Blanche of England and run it through google translate so i can cry over a shitty AI translation about bb Blanche in my spare time"?

[annwrites]

—on thin ice

well, i hear the music. close my eyes, feel the rhythm. wrap around, take a hold of my heart. — hockeyplayer!cregan x iceskater!reader ; ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚

Cregan glances across the rink, leaning against a support beam while he takes a short break, watching you.

You glide across the ice—earbuds shoved in your ears as you listen to upbeat pop music—dancing, wiggling your hips, shaking your arms, and the smile on his face only grows wider at the adorable sight of you.

You begin jumping across the ice—sticking every one of your landings, before raising your arms upwards. Your body turns into naught more than a blur as you spin impossibly fast before settling again. You glide, jump, crouch down and spin again, then gradually grow like a flower reaching for the sun as you arch your back and splay your arms out from either side of you.

Once you're fully upright once more, you open your eyes—your imaginary crowd, which throws bouquets and soft stuffed animals onto the ice fading away as you realize you're being watched in actuality.

You stutter, nearly falling on your bottom as you rip your headphones from your ears, blushing madly.

You skate a bit closer, mortified.

"Were... Were you watching me?"

He grins, nodding, removing his gloves.

"I was. Sorry. I wasn't trying to uh—" He gestures toward the other end of the rink which you'd just previously occupied—where you'd put on quite the performance for none other than him.

Even if you'd been wholly unaware of his presence...

"I wasn't trying to spy or be nosy," he finishes. "You're really good. Do you compete?"

You blanch. "Oh, no. Nothing like that. It's just... Just for fun. A hobby."

He nods. "You looked like a pro to me."

You smile, trying to tamper down just how happy that makes you feel to hear. You don't want him to see just how starved you are for approval. For compliments. Especially ones that pertain to your skating.

Your eyes trail along his hockey stick. "Do you? Play professionally, I mean. Well, on a team."

He nods. "The Direwolves? Our team at school?"

You flush. "Oh, right."

"You don't recognize me, do you?" He asks, looking at you from under his lashes.

"No, I do. We have history together."

You pause. "Cregan, right?"

He smiles, nodding, glad to hear that you know his name. "Had a lot of classes together since middle school."

You remain silent, merely nodding in agreement.

"Y/N."

You raise your brows in interest. "Hm?"

"No, I was just—that's your name. I wanted you to know that I know yours, too."

You smile, still nodding.

He shifts on his skates, nervously scratching the back of his head. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. It was nice talking to you."

"You too!" You reply cheerily, quickly skating away.

No matter how hard you turn the key, the ignition barely cranks. Instead, it merely gives you a death rattle.

You slam your hands against the wheel. "Not now! Just get me home, and then you can die! But not really. Please?"

You jolt when you hear a quiet tapping against your window. You quickly roll it down and Cregan leans in toward you. "You need a jump?"

You nod, getting out, hoping he hadn't witnessed you talking to your car. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd really appreciate it."

"No trouble," he replies, walking over to his truck.

Cregan grimaces once he's popped your hood.

You study him warily. "That bad?"

"Your battery is corroded," he states, hooking up the cables.

"I'll get it to start, and that will get you home, but you need to replace it, or this is going to keep happening."

You cross your arms, frowning. "How much will that cost?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe a hundred, give or take."

You throw your head back, groaning loudly in irritation. "Great."

He smirks, heading back over to his truck, turning it over.

Once your vehicular situation is resolved—for the evening, that is—Cregan holds your driver-side door open for you, lying his forearms atop it while you stand on the opposite side.

"Hey, if you want," he starts, and you look at him after tossing your water bottle into the passenger seat. "I could start giving you rides to and from school. Take you to the rink after. Since I'll be headed that way, anyway."

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "I wouldn't want to put you out. I can take the school bus, it's fine."

He jerks his head toward the rec center. "What about the rink?"

You shrug, not replying.

"It's not an issue. It's on my way."

You raise a brow. "You don't know where I live."

He grows quiet for a moment, and then a grin spreads across his lips. "So I'll make it a part of my way."

You shake your head with a smile, sighing. "Only if you're sure."

"I am."

You and Cregan Stark have been classmates since your first day of middle school, but not necessarily friends.

The two of you are alike in that you're loners, which funnily enough serves to later bring you together as friends as you bond, initially, over a mutual love of skating, and cold weather in your small, northern town.

But you also come from two different worlds.

Cregan, from a large, wholesome family, and a good support system, and you from a struggling, broken home, with not a single person to lean on.

Ice-skating serves as the only escape from the nightmare you live, until a second house opens its door to you, and you, for the first time since your grandpa passed—the same man who purchased for you your first pair of skates—find a place to call home.

And thus, two worlds merge into one.

[andypantsx3]

HOME, SAFE, YOURS : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

CONTENT & WARNINGS: pro hero au, gender neutral reader, established relationship, care-taking, aged-up characters, smut (reader gives shouto a shower handjob), 18+ minors please dni!

WORD COUNT: 2k

Shouto looks worn as he toes off his boots in the genkan.

It's not the first time your boyfriend has come home looking tired, and it's thankfully nothing like the bone-deep exhaustion that always pulls at him after a truly harrowing shift. But it's very clear Shouto has stretched himself today, judging by the slightly slower, more ginger way he's carrying himself.

Drawing closer, you can see dirt and ash scraped over his high cheekbones, and that much confirms your suspicions. Definitely a tough take down today, if he's looking this beat up.

"Hi Sho," you say, hurrying over to throw your arms around him, relieved to have him back in your hands. It's a little easier with the height the genkan step gives you, putting his broad shoulders in easier reach. "Tough day today?"

Shouto's arms come around you as he presses his face into your shoulder, breathing in deeply. He's cold, the chill from outside still lingering on his clothes, on his skin. He smells like ash and sweat.

"Hello, love," he says, his voice a low rumble you can feel against you. "It was... difficult."

You grip him tighter, holding him to you. "I'm glad you're safe."

His mouth is warm on the skin of your neck. "I am glad to come home to you."

A smile pulls at your mouth as you pet through his hair. It's soft and silky, but a little piecey—the after effect of having used phosphor, you know. You spend a couple moments absently running your fingers through the strands, clinging to as much of his shoulder as you can reach, reveling in the feeling of him back in your embrace, home safe where you like him best.

Shouto lets you hold him, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, the line of tension in his shoulders unwinding. His breath tickles your skin, slow and even. You cling just a little bit more tightly.

"Let's get some soup in you and get you in the shower, huh?" you say after you've stood like that for some minutes, your voice a little startling in the quiet of your apartment. You lightly tug on a hunk of his hair, inquiring.

Shouto doesn't move, just huffs softly into your shoulder.

You can't help but grin again, charmed by him as always, shifting so you can clutch his face in your hands and pull him up for a kiss instead. This time Shouto goes easily, his mouth following yours, his kiss soft and sweet and slow.

Shouto takes his time with you, so you do too, pouring your relief and your happiness to see him again into the kiss. His hands tighten on your back like he understands, hitching you up against him a bit more firmly.

"Soup time," you tell him when he finally lets your mouth go. Those heterochromatic eyes flutter open, and he frowns a little bit, leaning back in.

You smile into another kiss, laughing when his hands creep down your sides, charting a path to your thighs where you know he intends to pick you up once he's got you. Any other day and you'd let him take you against the wall right there in the genkan. But he's moving so slow you know it will be a struggle for him today, and you don't want him to strain himself any more than he already has.

There are other ways you can show your affection, today.

You quickly worm out of his embrace, dodging when he reaches out a long-fingered hand for you, frowning again. Fuck, he's so cute.

"Soup first," you order him, marching him into the kitchen.

A tiny pout purses his mouth but you're not to be deterred—you set him up at the table with a hot bowl of soup and several of last night's leftover sides; blanched spinach ohitashi and simmered squash. You plop an extra bowl of chicken and cucumber marinade directly in front of his soup as well—knowing full well he'll need the extra protein after a day like today.

As you hoped, the food quickly overtakes your boyfriend's focus. In your experience pro heroes need to intake an insane amount of calories, and even more on days they've utilized their quirks to the extreme. Shouto is no exception, his temperature quirk one of the most voracious energy burners of all, and very quickly the bowls in front of him begin to empty.

He looks even more exhausted when he finishes, and you wolf down your own bowl of soup, cutting him off as he attempts to clear the table.

"Go shower," you tell him, leaning down for a kiss even as you yank a bowl out of his long, elegant fingers.

Shouto looks up at you again, a microscopic downturn to his mouth that would be unreadable on anyone else, but on him counts as a pout. "You said after soup—"

"I'll join you when I'm done," you promise, your heart swelling with affection. It always pleases you that time with you seem to be his priority, even when he's clearly tired like this.

You laugh when this works like a charm, Shouto leaning in for another kiss before obeying. You hear the shower gutter and hiss on as you scrub the bowls in the sink, laying everything out to dry on the counter.

The bathroom is already hot and thick with steam when you let yourself in, and the mirror fogging. Shouto's left the curtain askew and your mouth dries out a little at the peeks of his body you can see—all that lean, sleek muscle glinting wetly in the light.

You step out of your clothes and slide in behind him, throwing an arm around his waist. His shoulders look especially broad in the small stall of your shower, taking up nearly the entire width, and you lean up to kiss in between them, letting your mouth linger.

"Hello, love," Shouto says, trying to turn to look at you. You hold him in place with your grip on his trim waist, reaching up to run a hand through the wet strands of his hair.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you say, pouring your insistence into your tone.

There's not much you can do to help Shouto with a job like pro heroics, particularly without a quirk of your own. But what you can do, what you like to do, is be there for him in the little ways—feeding him soup, washing his hair, taking the reigns when he's tired like this.

The contraction of Shouto's abdomen under your fingers as he sucks in a breath tells you he's understood your meaning. He shifts in your arms to face you, ducking in for a hard, wet kiss. Hot water spatters over your shoulder as he does so, pooling in the places where his skin meets yours.

You let him kiss you, slow and careful. Then you reach past him to uncap his shampoo, and rake it carefully through the strands of his hair, as Shouto obligingly keeps his head bent for you. You admire the way his long eyelashes flutter against his high cheekbones, the way his lovely mouth looks so soft and relaxed like this.

You take your time, moving slowly and carefully, before reaching for his conditioner. You slowly massage that in too, blinking against the water on your face when Shouto pulls you closer to him, pressing his face into your shoulder and huffing out another relaxed breath.

He could be asleep standing up by the time you move onto his his body wash, but he shivers as you run your hands over him. You love the feeling of him in your hands, all that slick, tight, dense muscle under your fingers.

He's so beautiful, so divinely-crafted. Sometimes you cannot believe Todoroki Shouto is yours to love and to care for.

His breath comes a little faster when your hands slide down his trim waist, as you work the suds into the V of his hips. "Love," he says, his voice low, rumbling.

"Turn around," you tell him, gently reaching up to move him as you do so.

You let your hands slide back in place, and then let them slip lower, taking Shouto into your hand. He's velvet soft in your fingers, but obligingly hard, thick and full—and even though you can't see him, you know just how pretty he looks in your palm. You press a kiss to his shoulder blade as he shudders, a powerful arm coming up to prop himself up against the shower wall.

You work him slowly at first, just as carefully as you'd pulled the shampoo through his hair. The flex of his abs against the palm of your other hand is transfixing, the shine and glint of the light over his muscles as he shifts in your fingers hypnotizing. Both of you linger in the moment, letting it stretch out long and hot and sweet, thick and slow like honey.

Shouto lets out a low groan when you thumb over the head of his cock, the arm he has pressed to the wall tensing. You do it again, reveling in the flex of his bicep, the roll of a powerful shoulder.

Shouto is the only person on earth as beautiful on the outside as he is on the inside, and you drink it all in, the sight of him, the beautiful sound of him as he utters your name, low and smooth and thick with feeling.

You keep pumping him like that, exactly how you know he likes, until he strains in your hands, that trim waist flexing as he can't help but rut into your grip.

One of your arms clutches him tighter against you as work him faster, and he lets out a soft moan, his fingers curling into a fist on the shower wall. It's only a minute or so more before he's arching into your hand, his hips bucking.

You tighten your fingers, thumbing over his head again, and that's all it takes. Shouto groans your name into the hiss of the shower spray, and comes all over your palm, every muscle in his body straining forwards.

He's so beautiful as he comes apart in your hands. His chest is heaving when you finally stop, and he shifts in your arms again, ducking his head to press an exhausted, satisfied kiss to your mouth.

"Thank you, love," he intones, those heterochromatic eyes settling on you, dark with pleasure. Pink stains his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and he looks flush with effort, exactly the way he does after he takes you apart in bed most nights.

You grin up at him, leaning up on your toes to press another kiss to his mouth. "I love you, Sho."

He murmurs his reply into your mouth, and you run your hands over him again, pulling through his wet locks.

"Now let's get you into bed," you tell him bossily, reaching past him to turn off the shower spray.

"What about you, love?" he asks, a little frown marring his perfect mouth. You kiss it off of him, then tug him out of the shower and wrap him in a fluffy towel, scrubbing it over his hair.

You'll get back in to take your own shower properly in the morning, you know, and once Shouto has slept things off, he will be eager to return the favor. For now though, you tell him you are satisfied just to be with him, to be near him, to take care of him.

You tell him you love him again, and pull him into bed, still damp and sweet and pliant with his release. You're satisfied as he melts into sleep, his exhaustion winning out.

Truthfully, there is nothing more you want in this life, you think, as you follow after him, slipping into slumber too. You want him like this always, relaxed in your embrace—home, safe, yours.

Happy New Year from me!! I wanted to give you one more Shouto before the year was out. Thank you guys so much for everything this year. I am continually grateful to be a part of this community, and I will work hard to learn more and give you my best in 2024!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Overtime 10

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

"Drive," Mr. Hansen tosses the keys as he struts across the lot. 

You barely catch them, you're scramble swinging your bag down to your wrist precariously. You right yourself as you get your finger through the keyring and you hit the button to unlock the doors. The tail lights flash to signal which car is his. 

You don't argue with his demand, even if you don't think you should be driving his car. You get in and he flops into the other side, leaning back with his phone in hand like a teenager. You sit dumbly in front of the steering wheel and slowly pull the seat belt across your torso. Where the heck is the ignition?

"New model, critter," Hansen jabs his finger into the button by the wheel. "Drop the keys in the cup holder." 

You obey and take in your bearings. You adjust the mirrors and the seat. 

"Hey, don't fuck things up too much," he warns. 

"Yes, sir," you put your hands on the wheel then reach to shift into reverse. The screen in the dash lights up with the rear view cam. 

You're not used to the updated model. You back up cautiously and turn the nose of the car straight. You lean on the gas little by little as you pass between the rows of cars. 

When you reach the street, you're no more comfortable controlling the luxury sedan but as always, there is no arguing. You idle at the light. Aimless. 

"Colin's," Hansen insists, "they got better variety." 

"Right," you put the blinker on and turn, undoubtedly irking the driver behind you. 

As he continues to key in his phone, you focus on the road. You're grateful for the task. That way you don't have to think of or speak to him. Still, he's there and inescapable.  

As you pull up to the store, he clucks. You shut off the engine and stare at the images of golf pros in their hats and gloves, a certain demographic with clubs in their hands on a green background. It’s the last place you would ever choose to go. With Mr. Hansen, there is rarely a choice. 

He gets out first. Your reluctance must be clear as he whistles over his shoulder as you shut the driver’s door. You scurry to catch up to him. He nearly drops the door on you. 

You follow him inside. A man in a polo greets him as you hover behind. It’s clear you’re not there to shop for you. Hansen chats with the guy about wood or something, then asks about the gloves. You leave a few feet between you as you take his lead. 

He silently debates as he takes a pair of white and a pair of bright red gloves. He tilts his head back and forth. “Whatcha think, critter? Classy or trashy?” 

You watch him wiggle first the white then the red. You can’t help but feel the selection in colour is deliberate. Red like your dress. 

“The white are nice, sir. But won’t they get dirty?” You suggest. 

He squints and rolls his eyes. He throws both pairs at you and grabs black, “you’re right. Who wants to get down and dirty, huh?” 

You catch the gloves and hang them back up. He strolls along the wall of clubs and takes one out to feel the weight. You stand back. He tuts and puts it back. 

“Hm,” he looks at you, no past you. 

You nearly cower as he marches towards you. As he passes, you turn to follow his attention. You blanch at the shelf of clothing. It isn’t meant for him. He picks up a black skirt and flutters the pleats. 

“You got long legs, critter, one wrong move...” he smirks over at you. 

“Sir,” you utter flatly. 

“You golf? Not mini putt, but real golf?” He asks. 

You hesitate. You don’t know if it’s the first time he’s genuinely asked about you. Not rhetorical or sarcastic or demeaning. But a question with an answer. 

“No, Mr. Hansen.” 

He sucks his teeth then folds the skirt. He slaps it against the gloves. “Never too late.” He pushes both towards you, “we’ll need a cute top to go with that. Oh, and shoes...” 

“Shoes? Sir?” 

“Well, that fucker Brenner canceled. I need some competition,” he shoulders by you. “I’ll take a handicap so you have a fighting chance.” 

“But sir--” 

“But sir what? You got better things to do? No, you work for me and this is my time and I will use you—it, however I choose,” he chortles as he stops at the shelf of shirts. He takes out a halter with a collar. You frown and sidle along with him. “You a D? C? Double? I’m no good at guessing. Tits are tits.” 

You nearly choke. You cough out your shirt size. He really can’t think the scale is based on chest alone. Or maybe he does. 

“What about the contracts for Halo--” 

“Who gives a fuck, critter. Make a goddamn call. You know Prissy down in legal. She wants to suck me bad. Tell her I need a favour and she’ll get it all done up with a bow,” he adds the shirt to your armload. 

You stare at him. Why is he doing this? You know he’s not trying to take you out for a day of fun and he surely doesn’t want to spend time with you. He’s torturing you. This is all on purpose. 

“You know,” he pauses and looks you in the face, “usually when I take a girl on a shopping spree, she doesn’t look so miserable.” 

You try to ease the tension from your face but it’s tough. You’re still agitated from the morning. And the night before. And the years you’ve been trudging through humiliation at his beck and call. 

“Thank you, sir. It’s very generous.” 

His eyes flick up and down. He harrumphs but doesn’t speak his thoughts. You’re not sure that’s good. He holds grudges. You’ve seen how that goes. 

[skylarstark4826]

Layla loved to love.

She didn't like negative things. It had been bred into her, really, to not like negative things. She'd been raised with an abundance of pets, most of them rescued by her "veterinarian" mother. She'd always felt connected to the earth and earth-like things (especially trees), and her parents had been involved in charities and belief groups for as long as she could remember. She'd built houses for Habitat for Humanity, volunteered at humane societies, rallied in front of the court house, petitioned.

Her normal father was no slacker, keeping right up with her mother. He'd taken her to yoga classes and interesting pro-peace lectures, and helped her make stuff out of recycled material.

But Layla couldn't help feeling horrible things whenever she was around Will lately.

It started out as a little bit of jealousy, and she waved it away as a natural part of being a teenager; hormones, and all that. The way Will looked at Gwen certainly wasn't the way he looked at her, but oh well. That was just hormones too.

Then it grew into resentment. Will was ignoring her, ignoring their friends. He wouldn't even answer his phoneanymore, and she could hear him in the background when Mrs. Stronghold answered, telling her to tell Layla some excuse as to why he couldn't talk.

Anger mixed in with the resentment, sizzling it's way into her blood and making her see red. It left no room for sadness that a friendship that had lasted over a decade was ending.

In fact, it left her wanting to do something that non-angry Layla would've blanched at; speeding the break along and watching Will hurt the way she was hurting.

Her gaze fell on Warren Peace in the cafeteria. He stalked over to his usual seat all alone, and Layla couldn't help but feel a little compassion for him. People tended to avoid him, even the girls swooning from afar.

A little idea started to form in Layla's mind, but she pushed it and the tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach away when Magenta sat down and started babbling about some stupid lesson of Mr. Boy's.

Still, Layla wasn't one to cut someone from her life without giving them a chance. She'd ask Will to meet her tonight at the Paper Lantern.

It was his last chance.

After seventeen tries, she finally got through to his cell phone.

After several phone calls to Magenta, Layla decided on an outfit.

She was officially not getting dressed up for Will Stronghold.

He didn't deserve it.

She threw on one of her favorite shirts, the one with the white sleeves, and a pair of jeans, some flats, and marched out the door.

(She might've also taken a few deep meditation breaths, but no one had to know that).

Sitting in a booth alone at the Paper Lantern an hour later, though, the fury was back with a vengeance.

Layla focused on the flower in front of her, reached out to it with her power. Felt its cells and its potential, then wilted it down.

How had things come to this? Will was her best friend in the entire world. They'd told each other everything. He'd beaten Terrence Xavier up in the seventh grade when he'd went too far in a game of Seventh Heaven at a party, and Layla had done Will's science projects pretty much every year. Their parents held cookouts together, they had more photo albums filled than they could count.

Going to Sky High together had been the next step. The next great adventure. Instead, it seemed more like the unsatisfying, anticlimactic ending to a very long novel.

"Still workin' on that?"

The voice startled her, and she looked up, hoping it was Will, come to apologize and grovel with a sheepish smile.

Instead, it was Warren Peace. Layla tried to keep the shock off her face and failed.

Warren didn't seem to be faring much better, though, and she took comfort from that.

"Hey," Layla said, because what else were you supposed to do when your best friend/ secret crush's arch enemy comes up to you as a server in your favorite restaurant?

(And when had he started working here, anyway?)

He didn't seem to be in a particularly arch-enemy-ish mood, however. "Hey."

Layla sensed the potential for awkward silence, so she added, "We go to school together."

He nodded, feeling the awkwardness as much as she did. "You're Stronghold's friend."

Layla scowled, unable to keep her anger contained. She looked back down at the table, made the flower wilt a little more. "Not for long."

Warren rose an eyebrow at that, then looked away. "Yeah… So… Uh…. Want me to heat that up for ya?"

Layla looked up, more shocked than she should've been at his casual mention of powers. "You're not supposed to use your powers outside of school!"

Warren snorted and leaned in close, stage whispering, "I was only going to stick it in the microwave."

Layla's eyes were looking straight into his, and she felt as though she were falling forward, deep into them. She blushed crimson and leaned back quickly. "Oh."

Warren smirked, and boom, the tingling was back.

"Um, I was, um, supposed to be meeting Will here, but…" The next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She remembered the way everyone avoided him, the way he sat alone everyday. "You wanna sit down?"

She offered him a small, happy Layla smile. She wasn't feeling very much like herself, but she figured it was the least she could do.

Warren blinked at her once, then hesitantly glanced back at his boss. Layla followed his eyes, noticed how tired he looked.

Poor kid, she thought, he must work hard. 

For a second, she felt normal again.

"I guess they can spare me a minute," he sighed, and sat down across from her.

His knees touched hers under the table, and he froze for a second before relaxing and looking her in the eye. Then he smiled, really truly smiled, and snapped his fingers.

A small blaze appeared, and Layla watched his finger mesmerized as he touched it to the candle in the center of the table and lit it. He smirked again.

Layla giggled a little, completely forgetting that she had just reminded him not to use his powers in public.

She didn't have enough fingers to count the number of girls who would keel over of jealousy right now if they saw her. The thought made her head spin in a good sort of way.

"So Stronghold ditched ya?" Warren asked casually, leaning forward as though he were actually interested.

"Yeah. He's been… a jerk lately." Layla bit her tongue, holding back all the things she wanted to say. Most of them were rather colorful, and they weren't words peaceful, loving people like herself were supposed to know, out long use.

Warren seemed to sense this. "Don't hold back. Call him what you want to." He grinned. "I promise you won't corrupt me."

Layla ran her eyes over his broad shoulders and muscular arms, lingered her gaze on his lips and that smirk…His flame tattoos on his wrists. No, she wouldn't corrupt him.

"He's been a complete and utter…" Would she do it? Ah, what the hell. "Ass! A total asshole!"

Warren grinned, actually seeming amused. "Ha! Wow. Never though I'd hear Hippy cuss. I'm proud."

Layla smiled a little and shrugged, looking down. Cussing wouldn't solve this issue with Will.

But it did make her feel better.

"So why'd he ditch you? I mean, I always figured he was a few tools short of the whole shed, but…"

Layla caught the offhand compliment and decided to smile a little more. Just because he was Will's arch enemy doesn't mean he had to be hers, too. "He's probably off with Gwen."

Warren didn't miss the bitter anger in her voice. "I would say green isn't a pretty color, but that's pretty much all you wear."

Something inside of Layla snapped.

"Damn it, I am not jealous!" She slapped her hand down on the table and it instantly stung, but she didn't care. "I'm mad! No, I'm furious! Will has been my best friend since we were in diapers, and now we go to a new school and he sees one pretty- well, okay, perfect- girl, and all of it's down the drain? I mean, what the fuck. This is ridiculous, I don't even know why I'm still here."

"Geez, Hippy, take one of your chill pills would ya? There are other customers in here." Warren looked around with eyes as wide as the plates in front of them.

Layla instantly froze, coming back to herself.

Oh no. Oh, what had she done?

She'd snapped at Warren when she'd wanted to make friends. She'd chosen anger instead of compassion and reason, and she'd had a total hissy fit in front of everyone, and the words she'd said had left a dirty taste in her mouth.

She'd wilted a flower, something she hadn't done since she was a toddler and had had temper tantrums, sucking life out of everything before she'd been old enough to realize how completely wrong that was.

"Oh my God." She breathed, eyes filling with tears.

She would not add crying to her list of failings though, she determined. She choked them back.

She reached out for the flower again, growing it taller than it had been before, blooming beautifully, and she felt a little better.

Warren watched her silently, letting her have her private meltdown. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah. God, Warren, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, I-" Layla stuttered unable to get the words out. She had no clue what to say.

"Just stop. Wait here." Warren directed, getting to his feet.

She sank back into the booth, doing as he said.

"Come on," he said a few minutes later. His apron was gone and his hair was fixed, tied back neater this time. He had his leather jacket swung over his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"I'm taking you home," he said.

She nodded slowly and followed him out of the restaurant, leaving a ten on the table.

"Normally I'd ride my bike, but I don't think we're quite to that level yet." He smirked.

"You have a motorcycle. Why am I not surprised? That's very cliché you know." Layla teased, managing a tiny smile.

"Oh please. I'm the only one around here that can really pull it off." He joked back, bumping her with his shoulder.

For some reason, her stomach dropped and hit the sidewalk. She grinned.

"That's more like it," he said quietly, and Layla's heart beat faster.

She averted her gaze and cleared her throat. "I really am sorry," she went on. "About that. That is not me, not at all."

"I know." Warren said simply. "So. Will is with Gwen, and now you're in agony because you're in love with him."

Layla's mouth dropped open with a little pop. "I am not in love with Will Stronghold!"

At Warren's dubious look she persisted, "I'm not!"

"You have to be at least crushing. It's incredibly obvious." He rolled his eyes.

"Crushing I can admit to." She conceded.

"So why don't you just ask him to Homecoming and get it over with?" Warren asked, turning a corner easily with her.

It was dark out, and normally Layla walked fast through the dark. She didn't like it much. But with Warren she felt… secure. Safe. Nothing would hurt her here in the dark with him right beside her.

She ignored the Stronghold house when they passed it. Didn't even glance in that direction, just kept walking.

"Two problems: Gwen, and also his stuck up attitude here lately. He won't even answer my calls, out long acknowledge me in person." Her voice grew quieter and she focused on the cracked pavement, the hurt and sadness finally settling in.

She was really losing Will. Her best friend in the entire world.

"Stronghold really is an idiot," Warren said, huffing on her behalf. "Alright, Hippy. Just ask him. Get to the bus stop early tomorrow if you have to. I'm assuming he's been avoiding you there, too?"

Layla nodded.

"See. If you get there early, there's no way for him to ignore you. Ask him to the dance then."

He pulled a fortune cookie out of his pocket and broke it open, popping a piece in his mouth. "Besides," he said as he chewed, "To let true love remain unspoken is the quickest route to a heavy heart."

Layla stared at him, almost walking into a lamp post.

"Wow," she managed to breathe. "That is really deep."

"Yeah," Warren nodded, his lips twitching in amusement. "And your lucky numbers are 4, 16, 5... and 49."

"Oh my God, you read that off a fortune cookie?" Layla laughed, grabbing the little piece of paper from him.

Indeed, that was what it said.

"Doesn't make it any less true," he shrugged.

A little flare of hope swelled up inside her. Maybe this would all be okay. Maybe something was wrong tonight and Will had a really good excuse for not showing up. It had never been like him to just not show up, not even with this Gwen thing.

Glancing over at Warren, she thought that maybe things could work out with him, as well. They could be friends. Layla could see the two of them becoming good friends, even, and maybe he and Will would learn to get along.

She stopped in front of her house and turned to grin her normal happy Layla grin at him. "Thank you. Really. You're actually pretty great when you're not hurling fire at people."

Warren rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever."

Unable to resist herself, Layla stepped forward and pressed her body against Warren's. She was surprised at how it felt; he was at least six inches taller than her, and his body was smooth and solid whereas Will's had always been a bit… Soft. And short.

He smelled like cinnamon.

After a moment of being stunned, he awkwardly wrapped one arm around her and gave her a little squeeze back. "Step away before I singe you."

"You just have to ruin the moment, don't you?" She sighed, but obediently stepped away.

"Here, give that one to Stronghold tomorrow. Make him feel bad for not being there tonight." He handed her another fortune cookie.

"Okay. Thanks." Layla said again.

"See you at school, then, I guess?" He asked, clearing his throat and stiffening when he saw an older woman that looked a lot like Layla peering out the window.

"Yeah. Bye!" She waved joyfully, wiggling her fingers, and dashed up the walkway and through the front door.

She could still smell him and feel his skin on hers when she shut it behind her. She was tingling all over and there was this feeling in her…

It was want, though what exactly she wanted from Warren Peace she didn't know.

"Layla!" Her mother greeted, smiling in a suggestive sort of way from the living room and putting the blinds back in place. "Who was that gorgeous young man, hm? Should I set another place at dinner tomorrow? I thought you were meeting Will tonight."

Layla blushed. "He's just a friend. I'm really tired, I'm gonna head on up," Layla gestured towards the steps.

"Night honey. Love you!" Her mom said.

"Yeah, night," her dad grunted, not looking up from the Scrabble board. Her younger siblings giggled and chorused their goodnights, focused on their game.

She called Magenta for outfit advice again, giving her as few details about Warren Peace as possible. She certainly doesn't mention that she hugged him. She leaves the wanting feeling out as well, but that doesn't mean it's not there.

Magenta and Layla decided on her short tan skirt, and her green shirt that tucked in and hung loosely off her shoulders.

She looked good, she'd decided this morning. Good enough to ask Will to Homecoming.

That is, if he had a good excuse for not being there last night. If he didn't, then Layla was breaking this off completely. She couldn't put herself through the misery required.

"Layla!" Will called her name, and she turned around. "You'll never guess what happened to me last night!"

The words were right, but the expression and tone were all wrong, and Layla felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and not the good kind she got when she was talking to Warren last night.

Wordlessly, Layla pulled out the fortune cookie she'd saved and held it out.

"Thanks, I love these," Will took it and bit into it, chewing as he read his fortune. "Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends."

How incredibly fitting, Layla thought. She was beginning to wonder if Warren had something to do with these.

She just rose her eyebrows and waited.

Will's face fell, but not enough to erase his excitement. Layla felt the knife in her chest dig a little deeper. Oh no. She really was going to have to tell Will they weren't friends anymore.

"Oh God. Oh, geez, Layla, I'm sorry. I got so caught up with Gwen-"

And here came the anger again.

"Gwen? You blew me off for Gwen? You've known her for a few weeks, whereas you've known me for your whole life. I am your best friend, Will, and you've been completely ignoring me for awhile now." Layla tried to keep her voice down. The bus would be here any minute, and they weren't always the only two at this stop.

"I'm sorry, Layla, but she came over and my parents invited her to stay for dinner, what was I supposed to do?" Will pleaded.

"Gee, I dunno, how about mention you already had plans?" Layla hissed back.

She was not going to let him worm his way out of this one. This confrontation had been building for weeks now.

"You know I like Gwen! This was one plan, Layla. I'm really sorry about it, but come on! I'm going with her to Homecoming! Can you believe it? Me, a freshman, going with Gwen Grayson." Will smiled nervously, as though expecting her to start applauding or something.

"Seriously?" Layla asked in a low tone, glaring at him.

Will was quiet for a moment, and then, "Is that what this is about? You're jealous that I have a date and you don't?"

"As a matter of fact, I do have a date." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She resisted the urge to bite her lip.

"Oh. Who?" Will asked.

The bus pulled up.

Layla remembered last night and how awful she felt for blowing up like she did, and tried to reign in her temper.

Warren didn't try to control you, she thought to herself. Warren let you be angry.

His name filled the tense air, and she wasn't entirely sure why she did it, but it felt so right and she knew the look on Will's face would be worth it. "Warren Peace."

"Warren Peace?" Will spat the name like it was a dirty word. "Layla, you can't be serious. He's fricking crazy! Not to mention my arch enemy. He hates me. What in the world are you thinking? You can't be thinking at all, not if you're going with him. When did you even start talking to him? No. I refuse to accept this. You're doing this to get back at me, but can't you see that-"

Will had been ranting nonstop since they set foot in the school, and Layla was getting sick of it.

She slammed her locker door, something she never did out of respect for school property, and snapped as loud as she could, "Will, SHUT UP."

The entire student body turned to stare.

Well, no backing out now. "I don't care what you think, I don't care who you're taking to, and I don't care for your incessant whining. What I do is no longer your concern."

That felt good.

Layla left Will (and everyone else) staring after her slack jawed.

That felt good too.

But what felt best was knowing that Warren had walked by as she'd been telling Will off, and the look in his eyes made her flush with pride and more than a little bit of lust.

She had finally figured out what she wanted from Warren Peace.

(It scared the hell out of her.)

"You have to tell Warren." Magenta advised.

They were in the girls bathroom, their daily routine before lunch, reapplying makeup.

"No way. I can just tell Will we cancelled later, if he asks." Layla blinked onto her mascara brush.

"Layla, Will has made a huge deal out of this. All the freshman and most of the seniors already know you're going with him. You can't back out of this." Magenta protested.

"But-"

"Just tell him today at lunch. I'll be right behind you. We'll all sit at Warren's table today." Magenta left no room for discussion, and Layla sighed, knowing the battle was lost.

She went through the line quickly, grabbing her salad, and with a little prod in the back from Maj, scurried off to sit across from Warren.

Layla was trembling all over, and she didn't know how to make it stop.

"Hi Warren." She said as suave as she possibly could, plopping her tray down and immediately shuffling her lettuce around.

Warren was not pleased. "Did I say this was okay yesterday? Because it's not."

Layla tried for a smile. It always worked. "Haha, you're so funny. But, no, seriously. So, I was just about to ask Will to Homecoming this morning, and wouldn't ya know it, I told him I was going with you instead."

Warren stared at her for a good fifteen seconds and didn't burst into flames. Layla took that as a good sign.

"You're kidding." He said flatly.

Layla shook her head hyperactively, and went back to poking her salad.

Luckily, Magenta chose that moment to sit down next to Layla. "Hey Layla, you finish your homework? Can I copy? I was up all night, waiting for that new CD to come out online."

"What are you doing?" Warren asked threateningly.

Layla trembled harder, but not at the threat. At the growl in his voice.

God, what was wrong with her lately?

"It's called sitting." Magenta shrugged.

"No one sits here but me."

It had never occurred to Layla that Warren might choose to be alone.

Somehow she didn't think he had.

Ethan sat down next. "We're eating with Warren now? I feel so badass."

Warren didn't seem to know whether to keep being offended or pleased at that.

Zach sat down too, wearing a bright yellow shirt today, and playfully bumped against Warren. "This guy bothering you, Magenta?"

"Try the other fucking way around! Would you freaks go away?" Warren pushed Ethan further down the bench. Ethan didn't seem to mind.

"What, do all of you need a date to Homecoming or something?" Ouch. That was a low blow.

"Oh, I do!" Ethan raised his hand like the dork he was.

Magenta rolled her eyes and took Layla's offered homework.

Zach stole a piece of food from Warren when he wasn't looking.

Will walked by with Gwen and stared at Layla.

For once, there were no butterflies in Layla's stomach when Will looked at her. Just a sick feeling.

"Hang on a second Gwen," Will said, shocking everyone. "Layla, can I talk to you?"

Gwen glowered, but let go of Will's arm. He came around to Layla's side and hauled her up by her forearm, gently so as not to hurt her with his super-strength.

Layla shrugged him off and followed him out into the deserted hallway.

"What?"

"Look. I don't know what's wrong with you lately, but I want it to stop." Will had always had problems being assertive, and this time was no exception. He sounded weak and meager, saying things like that.

"I'm not acting any differently." Layla said nonchalantly.

"Warren's probably having some kind of effect on you, I told you to stay away from him-"

"Warren is a great guy!" Layla defended him, and realized as she said it that he really was. "If you actually took five seconds to talk to him, you might realize that."

Will groaned and ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her. When he turned back around, he took three steps towards her, and she tried not to flinch back.

She didn't know her own best friend anymore. Gwen had taken him and made him a little lap dog, or something.

He was behaving like a mindless jock, and it was driving her nuts.

"Layla, I'm begging you. Break it off."

Layla narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Break it off."

"No!"

"I said dump him!" Will grabbed her arm, and in his anger, forgot his own strength.

"Oooowwwwwwwwwwww!" Layla wailed, dropping to the ground, and before she knew it, Warren was right there, blazing and furious, throwing Will against the wall hard enough to make a dent.

It didn't really hurt him, and for a moment Will slumped there on the floor, looking in horror at Layla, ignoring the fact that his sleeve and part of his pant leg was on fire.

"Touch her again, and I'll run a stake through you like the goddam marshmallow you are, then roast your puny ass." Warren snarled, then whirled around to face Layla.

Her arm was throbbing and she had a headache from all this drama. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into her bed, burrow into her white sheets and stare up at the fake tree branches that twisted above her head, sprouting from the four posts.

Forget about all of this.

Will jumped to his feet, putting out the tiny flames, and ran back into the cafeteria, back to Gwen no doubt. Layla couldn't find it in herself to care.

Warren crouched down in front of her, tilting her chin up, surprised to find her eyes and cheeks dry.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, caring. It made Layla feel warm and cared for.

"Yeah. He didn't mean it, really, he's super-" She was upset, yes, but she was also Layla Williams, and Layla Williams was nothing if not understanding and forgiving.

"Strong, I know. Doesn't make this okay." Warren grunted, then reached for her arm.

"Don't!" Layla gasped, drawing it away.

Warm brown eyes met stormy gray ones. "I won't hurt you, Layla."

He called me Layla and not Hippy, she thought in a daze, and held out her arm.

His fingers were warm and calloused, touching her gently, rotating her arm and moving her shoulder.

"He could've done a lot more damage." Warren finally determined. "It'll definitely bruise, but it should fade in a week or so. Come on."

He held his hand out, and Layla took it, standing up and following him down the hall.

He led her to the nurse's station, and she was about to protest- she didn't want to get Will in trouble for something that was an accident- but he gestured for her to stop where she was and went in alone.

"Hey Nurse Spex," Warren's voice was light and respectful; it was almost a cheerful greeting.

Layla leaned against the cool wall and listened.

"Mr. Peace. Back for some burn salve again?" Nurse Spex sounded completely at ease around the school bad boy. Almost matronly.

"Nope. Bruise salve and some ice." There was a grin in Warren's voice, but also leftover anger at Will.

"Mhm," Nurse Spex murmured reproachfully. "Don't you send any more kids in here today Warren Peace!"

"No mam, I won't." Some shuffling and then, "Thanks."

"Sure. You're a good boy, Warren. Act like it every now and then."

Warren barked a laugh. "Not a chance."

A moment later he emerged, shutting the door behind him.

"This way," he took Layla's hand, and she let herself be guided out the door and into the sunshine. Warren led her to the grass at the side of the building and sat down underneath a shady tree.

"We're probably not supposed to be out here." Layla bit her lip.

"Probably not. Oh well." Warren muttered distractedly, opening the little jar and swiping the applicant over the white stuff inside it a few times.

He took her arm again and rubbed it on the already-forming bruise.

"Thanks," Layla said quietly.

"I've had a few bruises in my time," he shrugged. "I think the nurse has a thing for me." He winked and Layla laughed.

He wrapped the ice around it next, then leaned against the tree. "Going dress shopping soon?"

Homecoming was not this weekend but next. At least the bruise would be gone by then. "I don't know. Maybe."

Layla hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry about that, by the way. I didn't mean too, it's just that he gets me so worked up and I wasn't thinking."

"Don't give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Hippy. I'll go along with it."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Just don't expect me to rent a tux."

"…Okay."

Layla settled on her back and focused on the sun above her and the grass beneath her and the tree near her and Warren.

Within ten minutes she was asleep.

Warren woke her when the final bell rang, and instead of being mad, she yawned and smiled at him.

"Here, keep this. Put it on every night, okay?" He instructed, handing her the salve.

"Sir yes sir." Layla smirked.

"That's Mr. Peace, sir, to you." He leaned in close and whispered in her ear.

Then it was his turn to smirk and Layla shivered.

"Don't think I didn't notice that," he grinned.

Layla felt a rush of desire run down her spine and settle between her legs, and she flushed bright red.

Homecoming would be interesting.

Somehow they settled into a routine.

They'd all sit together at lunch. Warren would harass her friends, and her friends would ignore his threats.

Then in the afternoons, Layla would go to the Paper Lantern and sit until closing time, and Warren would walk her home, then go back to get his bike.

He still hadn't managed to get her to ride it. He was determined to one day, though.

Sometimes they touched, and that was nice too. Turns out Warren was a very physical person once he'd warmed up to you. (No pun intended). He always made sure some part of him was in constant contact with Layla, unless he was working. Their knees touching, leaning against each other in a booth.

Once, Layla had gotten up the nerve to entwine her fingers with his. It had been late one night- the Paper Lantern had been packed, and it was a weekend- and Warren had slid into her booth to take a break from cleanup.

"You look tired." She said, brushing hair back from his face.

"So do you," he noted.

Layla had just shrugged and leaned her head over on his shoulder, heart beating out of her chest.

Her fingers had slid down his thigh, and he shuddered, and her hand found his.

He had glanced down at their joined fingers and took a shaky breath, then looked back at her; their eyes met and they both felt the connection, the pull, lean in lean in lean in…

His boss yelled then, and he jumped back, giving her hand a squeeze before pulling away, looking apologetic. She had simply smiled, and that night he had given her a piggy back ride the whole way home.

They did this for over a week, and on the Tuesday before Homecoming, Warren got off early and they decided to go see a movie later.

Which meant that Layla had to get on The Bike.

She followed Warren behind the restaurant, nervously twisting her hands together. She lost her breath when she saw it, a metal monster sitting there waiting for her.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea." She began to protest.

"Scared, Hippy?" He taunted her, teeth flashing.

"No." Layla set her jaw.

"Prove it." He tossed a helmet at her, and she caught it, putting it on uncertainly. He put his on as well, swinging one leg over the bike expertly.

Layla's knees almost buckled at the site. Damn he was hot.

(That was another thing. Her reserves about language had almost disappeared. They were just words, after all. No big deal. She was beginning to think that while Warren was an overall good person, his bad habits were contagious).

He patted the space behind him, and Layla's legs propelled her forward without her permission.

She clumsily swung her leg over and slid into place, noticing how incredibly intimate it felt to be pressed up against him, chest-to-back, her hips fitting against his.

The bike roared to life underneath them, and she screeched and buried her face in Warren's shoulder.

He laughed. "Hold on tight, Hippy!"

Layla's main organs were left somewhere far behind her as he sped off, bike engine roaring. Her hair streamed out behind them, glowing red like Warren's fire in the sun, and slowly she began to relax.

They roared through downtown, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Will, Gwen, the Pennys, and some other popular kids hanging out outside an ice cream place, and she saw Will's shocked expression when he recognized her.

The Layla he knew would've never got on a bike like this. But the Will Layla had known would never have betrayed her, and besides, being goody good Layla got boring. She was in high school now; she should be able to have a little fun before she was expected to save the world.

Well, help her hero save the world. Whatever.

"This is so great!" She yelled to Warren over the wind and the bike's roar.

"I knew you'd love it!" He yelled back.

The bike wasn't the only thing Layla was beginning to love.

Warren's mother was small and slender with one of the prettiest faces Layla had ever seen. She was sweet and conversational, and wore pink and cute accessories. She was not what Layla had pictured her to be, but Warren shared the same brown eyes.

"My room's the second door on the right, up the stairs. You can head on up," Warren murmured, and Layla took that as a dismissal and left the kitchen where all three of them were drinking lemonade.

She stayed still on the steps, listening. Layla wasn't one to eavesdrop, but then, she wasn't one to get mad at friends, or cuss, or ride on the back of a motorcycle, either.

"I like her, Warren."

"I'm glad."

"Seriously. She's sweet and charming-"

"Ma-"

"And she sorted out my recyclables which I've been meaning to do for ages-"

"Ma!"

"And she was wearing the cutest shirt."

"Ma…"

"You two would make the most adorable couple! Really, give it a chance, won't you?"

Layla couldn't hold back her grin.

Her and Warren as a couple… The thought made her lick her lips in anticipation.

"Wait…Hang on a second…" Warren muttered, and the next second, his head popped around the corner.

"Ahh!" Layla squeaked and rushed up the steps, Warren right behind her.

"You little sneak!" He roared.

Layla reached his door and went to slam it on him, but he was faster and he knocked it open again. He grabbed her and his fingers found her ticklish sides, then her stomach.

"W-w-warren stop!" She managed around her giggles.

He pulled one hand away and held her tightly cradled against his body. Then a fireball engulfed his free fist and Layla shrieked.

"Warren!" His mother reproached from the doorway, looking very amused. "Don't scare the guests like that!"

"Yeah, don't scare the guests like this!" Layla gasped.

"Never listen in again." He ordered, and let her go.

"Alright, well, you kids be good. I have to go…. Tend to business." Warren's mother excused herself.

Layla glanced around, now having the chance to actually observe the room she was in.

Warren's bed was large, the sheets slightly singed.

He had a desk in one corner, a large bookshelf spanning two walls. There were two windows wide open, letting sunlight in.

She turned towards him and bit her lip, sitting on the edge of his mattress. He leaned against the wall and watched her.

"What time does our movie start?" She asked.

"Seven."

She nodded and kicked off her flip flops, leaned back onto the bed. Warren's eyebrows shot up, and she motioned for him to come to her.

"Lay with me," she invited.

"I don't do the whole cuddling thing," he said stiffly.

"Did I say we were cuddling?" She asked.

They ended up cuddling.

Well, Layla didn't think this really qualified as cuddling, per say. It was more like holding. He was on his back and she was sprawled across him, her head on his shoulder, their stomachs pressed together. She could feel slivers of skin against hers where their shirts had rode up. One of her legs was between his, and he had an arm around her, playing with her hair.

She didn't exactly know how this had happened, but she wasn't about to complain.

They were talking about everything and nothing; Warren's daddy issues, how Warren's name was a pun on War and Peace ("You caught that?" He asked, stunned).

Layla talked about how she felt stereotyped and underestimated. She talked about how hard it was to keep her temper lately, and how concerned it made her.

"You know, a lot of times," Warren said, "When kids come to Sky High, their powers sort of… awaken. They're being used on a daily basis, applied, strengthened. Everything is suddenly a lot more real, a lot more accepted too, so it's not uncommon for some people to lose control for a little while when they're first learning."

That made Layla feel so much better she could've done a dance right there in the middle of the floor.

Then he went on, "And if you're so tired of being stereotyped, stop wearing green so damn much."

She knew he was teasing, but what he said made sense. "Oh yeah? What color should I wear instead, then?"

He studied her a moment, making her body flush and hum.

"Red," he finally said.

She was quiet for a moment, her body thrumming with energy from being this close to Warren.

Then she turned her head to the side to look at him. "Why did you agree to come to Homecoming with me?"

"Why did you tell Will I was your date?" He countered.

"Touché." She mumbled.

After a little while longer, when she'd plucked up her courage, she kissed his cheek, then his jaw.

He rolled his head to the side and brushed her hair out of her face. "We should get going if we're gonna make it to the movie."

Layla tried not to analyze the crushing disappointment in her chest, tried not to stare at his lips, mere inches from hers. "You're right."

The movie the night before had been fun; a lot of crappy affects that Warren made fun of, Layla's favorite male actor to swoon at. (Watching Warren get so jealous he set the popcorn on fire was funny. Watching him try to put it out before smoke detectors went off was even funnier.)

Now it was Wednesday, and Homecoming was Friday, and Layla still didn't have a dress.

She did what she always did. She called Magenta.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or does the caller I.D actually read Layla Williams?" The sarcastic voice at the other end answered.

Layla winced. She'd forgotten to call Magenta last night and let her know how the movie went. "Sorry! I was so tired when I got in!"

"Uh huh. Now dish."

Layla told her all about Warren's mom, all about how they'd laid on his bed and talked, how he'd set the popcorn on fire.

"Why don't you just kiss him already?" Magenta pushed.

"I don't know!" Layla chewed on her lip. "Can we go dress shopping? Please?"

"You don't have one either? Alright, give me ten minutes, I'll be over there. Mom can give us a ride to the mall."

Layla texted Warren to let him know why she wouldn't be at the Paper Lantern.

Stay away from the greens ;) he replied.

She smiled and stuck her phone in her back pocket.

"Mom, Magenta and I are going Homecoming shopping," Layla called into the kitchen.

"Have fun!" She called back. "Hey, do you want to invite Warren over for dinner?"

Oh geez. Layla could just see how that would go. "No, Mom, he has to work!"

"That poor boy is always working," her mother sighed.

"I know." A car horn honked. "Magenta is here."

"Alright, bye! Be good! Remember to thank Magenta's mother!"

"Of course!" Layla nodded and shut the door behind her.

The mall was pretty empty; it was a random Wednesday, after all.

They hit six different stores and couldn't find a thing. Magenta went into Hot Topic, a store that had always intimidated Layla more than a little, and found a cute black and purple, lacey dress.

"Maybe I should try somewhere else, like a small store," Layla worried.

"No… Just try this one," Magenta gestured to a colorful, upbeat store tucked away in the corner.

"I didn't even see that one. Okay, this one and then I'm done," Layla agreed.

There weren't very many people in here, which made searching the racks easy. Magenta held up several green dresses in various shades and styles.

"How about these?"

Layla thumbed through them. "They're all so cute…" And they were. It was just that she didn't want to wear green to Homecoming. She had something to prove, after all, not only to Warren and Will and Gwen, but to herself.

Her eyes fell on it then; it was a tiny little thing, a short, silky, strapless red dress.

"I wanna try this on," she said, grabbing it and headed to the back, where there were curtains drawn around tiny dressing rooms.

"That?" Magenta sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. I'm… trying something new." Layla confirmed. She slipped out of her shirt and jeans and slid the dress over her head.

It conformed to her body like a second skin, and she stared wide eyed at herself in the mirror. She had curves. She'd never noticed before. It didn't clash with her hair, either, like she was expecting. It hit the middle of her thighs, making her legs look longer. With a killer pair of heels, Layla would almost be able to call herself hot.

Imagining the look on Warren's face solidified her decision. This was the one she wanted.

"What do you think?" She asked Magenta, pulling the curtain aside.

Magenta's mouth fell open. "Oh my God."

"Does it look bad?" Delusions all alone in a changing room were very different from the actual thing.

"No. It doesn't look bad at all. You're gorgeous." Magenta stressed the word, scanning Layla from head to toe.

Layla grinned. "Thanks. Can you go look for shoes while I get changed back?"

"Of course. I kinda want a new pair, too." Maj nodded.

Layla put the dress back on it's hanger and put her clothes back on. She found Magenta at the shoe section a few minutes later, comparing different styles of black pumps.

"Peep toe or criss-cross straps?" She asked.

"Peep toe. It's more feminine," Layla advised.

She scanned the rows herself and soon found the perfect pair; they were the exact shade of red as her dress; lace up ankle booties with the same peep toe as Magenta's shoes, and four inch heels.

"Whoa. Those are hot." Magenta nodded her approval. "You gonna get them?"

"Definitely."

"Warren's gonna go inferno when he sees you in that."

That's what Layla was hoping.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Come on, Hippy, just a hint!"

"Not gonna happen."

"Let me know the color, at least! It's not green, is it?"

Warren had been begging for dress details ever since he'd nonchalantly mentioned it while working and Layla had just smirked. Homecoming was tomorrow night, and she'd decided to keep the dress a secret, wait to see his reaction.

Warren didn't like secrets, apparently.

"I will get this out of you," he threatened as he cleaned his last table for the night. It had been unusually busy for a Thursday night; it was almost nine. Layla was glad her parents weren't normal ones. They didn't believe in silly restrictions such as curfews.

"You can try…" Layla trailed off, unconcerned.

He glared menacingly at her and tore his apron off.

She smiled angelically.

She slipped her fingers into his without even thinking about it, and was reluctant to let them go to get on the bike.

He took it slow and steady, not wild and crazy like the other day, turning corners smoothly and going slow. Layla relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder blade.

They came upon Will's house, and she scoffed when she saw the bright lights and heard the blaring music. Will had never been the type to throw huge parties when his parents were gone.

Another change of Gwen's, no doubt.

"Wanna crash it?" Warren asked, a dare in his voice.

"Sure!" Layla smirked.

He sped up and hit the curb; Layla squeaked, and he parked in the middle of the perfect lawn.

She swung her leg over the side, and took his hand again. The door was already half open, so she let herself in.

Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold were gonna have a cow.

The entire house was messed up; furniture was overturned, there were tons of spills, and some things were broken. Her crystal was being used as light reflectors, and the floors were scuffed. One side of the couch was broken from where Larry the Rock had sat.

Warren looked around in curious disdain. "Shittiest party I've ever been to."

"Ditto," Layla nodded, even though her party going experiences were very limited.

Heroes in training ran around wreaking havoc, and Layla moved forward, looking for Will. She wanted to let him know that what had happened to her arm was forgiven, that she knew it was a mistake. The closest she'd gotten to him since it happened was in passing, dozens of feet away in school halls.

Penny- or one of her copies- closed in on her immediately, and Warren gave her hand a tiny squeeze.

She shot him a grateful smile, and that's when Gwen decided to make her appearance. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Who invited the sidekick?" Penny called out, and everyone in earshot turned, "oohing" and smirking, like they were better or something.

Layla rolled her eyes. "Where's Will? Tied up on a leash out back?"

"He's avoiding you, actually. Come on, Layla. Will knew you liked him." Gwen looked mean, but mostly she just seemed bored.

Layla noticed with some satisfaction that the pink halter top she wore didn't look nearly as good on her as she probably thought it did. "Did he?"

She felt Warren step closer to her and inconspicuously leaned back against him.

"Uh huh. Obviously he's not interested. He's just too nice a guy to tell you himself." Gwen smiled in a sickly sweet sort of way and tilted her head to the side, twirling her hair.

"He wasn't too nice," one of the Pennys said, "to tell us though. God, he is constantly whining about what an obsessive little bitch you were, calling and trying to make plans all the time."

Okay, that stung a bit.

The whole time they had been friends, had Layla simply been nothing more than a nuisance?

"Whatever," Layla muttered, looking away.

"I mean, take a goddam hint, would ya? He's going to Homecoming with me, he's throwing a party and didn't invite you, and he's too embarrassed to be seen with you at school." Gwen snarled.

"I don't care, alright? Whatever was going on with me and Will- or not going on- is over now, so just back the hell off!" Layla yelled, trying to sidestep Gwen and get out of here. This had been a very bad idea.

Gwen blocked her, glancing at Warren for the first time. "Oh, that's right. Layla's got a new boy toy now. Warren Peace, resident psycho."

She looked back at Layla. "Careful, Layla. You never know when he'll turn evil. Wouldn't want to get too involved with a guy destined to end up like his father; worthless and locked up like an animal."

Warren seemed to sense a change in Layla, and he grabbed her by both forearms, careful to avoid her still-tender spot from Will. "Whoa, Hippy. Calm down."

Gwen snorted. "Like she could do anything."

"You wanna see what I can-" Layla started, then stopped. She took a deep breath like her father had taught her, and turned. "Come on, Warren, let's go. This was stupid."

He slid his hand down her arm to take her hand again and they headed towards the door.

"Layla!" Will called, coming from the kitchen, looking happy to see her.

Layla remembered what Penny had said and glared at him. "Fuck off."

"But, but, I mean," he stuttered.

"Save it." Warren growled, his free hand beginning to ignite.

Will's face hardened. "When did you become such a, a, a bitch Layla? You used to care."

That hurt more than anything else, and Layla turned away, not willing to let him see her face crumple.

"Have fun with Gwen, Stronghold," Warren stormed, throwing the ball of flames, and missing Will's head by an inch on purpose. "You two are perfect for each other; you never did deserve a second of Layla's time."

The door slammed behind them, and Layla stumbled down the porch steps and a few feet away from the house, her tears starting to pick up pace. Her shoulders shuddered and her vision blurred and she couldn't believe that that had just happened.

"Whoa, whoa," Warren said, his voice tender and soft. "Whoa, Layla. Shhh. Calm down." He wrapped his arms around her, not stiff or awkward at all, and she buried her face against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Warren," she gasped. "I'm so sorry, this was a horrible idea."

"I was the one to suggest crashing, if you remember," he huffed, sounding frustrated with himself. "This was my fault."

"No," Layla shook her head, "it's Will's."

"Layla?" Oh great. The Commander and Jetstream were home.

Warren didn't let her go, and for that she was thankful. She just turned her head to the side.

"Layla, sweetheart, what is going on here?" Mrs. Stronghold asked.

"Will is throwing a party," she sighed.

"Well we can see that. Why? And why are you so upset?" Well, Mr. Stronghold had always been blunt.

"I guess because his prissy little girlfriend asked him to," Warren answered for her, barely contained anger in his eyes.

"You're… You're Barron's boy!" The Commander sounded utterly shocked to find his arch enemy's son in his front yard.

"Yeah." Warren's voice was flat.

Mrs. Stronghold's eyes darted back and forth and she intervened immediately. "Layla, I apologize for whatever Will has done. Warren, it was nice meeting you. Come on, Commander, we've got a son to severely punish." She drug him to the front door, cape fluttering behind her as Mr. Stronghold continued to gape like a fish at Warren, and more specifically, at Warren holding Layla.

"Where are we?" Layla sniffled, arms across her chest. She leaned back against the bike, staring at Warren through the dark. He was about thirty feet away, just gazing at her.

"Come here," he said, his voice husky, and she obeyed, going to stand just a few inches in front of him.

After a second of looking into each other's eyes, a huge circle of fire sprung up around them, about three feet high, thirty feet away in either direction.

Layla gasped, eyes going wide, and Warren smiled.

"When I was little," he began, "around six or seven, when I was finally able to control my powers, my mother and father went to war again. It killed her to do it, because she loved him. Still loves him."

Layla focused solely on him, drinking in every word. He was letting her in, and she wasn't about to pass this up.

"Sometimes, when she thought I wouldn't notice, she'd go lie in bed for hours and not get up. She didn't sob her eyes out, and I almost wished she had, because that would've made sense, ya know? But she just laid there and one tear would come out at a time…" He trailed off, wiping a stray tear off Layla's cheek.

"I couldn't stand it. And I thought I was adding to the problem; I have the same power as my father, and I got to thinking that all the destruction I caused when I lost control made her even more sad. So I came up with a way to show her that fire isn't just destruction, and also make her happy again. Practiced for hours outside, while she laid in bed."

Another ring popped up, burning brighter than the first, and larger, a few inches outside it Layla's eyes flickered to it before returning to the deep brown ones.

"It worked. It made her happy again. I still do it sometimes, when things get really bad." He stepped back a few feet and stripped his shirt off.

Layla's eyes widened, focused on his rippling muscles and smooth skin, imagining what it must feel like, taste like.

She licked her lips.

Warren opened his palms toward her, leaving his hands at his side. Then, after a moment, the fingertips of his right hand began to spark.

The sparks dripped onto the grass and fizzled out, but sometimes they landed on his wrist, and he let these grow. They licked their way up his forearm to his bicep, onto his shoulder. They cascaded down his chest, thin little waterfalls of flame.

Any shirt he could've been wearing would have burned up.

Layla smiled at him, feeling calmer than she had in a long time. He smiled back, and lifted one arm up. A little ball of fire went rolling from his wrist, down his arm, across his shoulders, and down the other arm. He bounced it back and forth, coaxing a laugh from her.

Another ring popped up, then another, closer to where they stood. Layla wasn't scared.

Warren slowly tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide. After a second, a large fountain of fire erupted from him, shooting up to the night sky, and Layla gasped, jumping a little.

Warren could literally breathe fire.

"Oh my God!" She laughed, adrenaline and desire running through her, mixing and making her grow warm in a way that had nothing to do with the flames.

He laughed too at her reaction, then his torso burned brighter, and geysers of flame burst everywhere sporadically, turning different colors and heights, turning everything golden-blue-purple-red-pink-orange. Just not green.

It was the most magical thing Layla had ever experienced, and she wondered how anyone could have ever thought this incredible person would go evil.

"You're amazing," she breathed before she could stop herself.

Warren looked more than a little smug. "I try."

He stopped blazing himself, but the fire all around them kept on. He came back towards her, taking one of her hands in his, palm up.

"Now for the grand finale," he murmured. His eyes met hers. "You have to trust me completely for this to work, alright? You can't freak out."

"What's going to happen?" She asked, anticipation coiling in her stomach.

"You'll see. Pick a color." Layla opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Not green."

"Prejudiced," she grumbled. Then she smiled. "Blue."

"Is that the color of the dress?" He asked.

"You'll have to wait and see," she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright. Blue it is."

A moment later, Layla's hand caught on fire.

She started to yelp and draw her hand away, but Warren held on tight. "I told you not to panic, Hippy. If you freak out, it'll burn you."

Layla relaxed instantly, meeting his eyes again before looking back down at the flame in her hand. It glowed brightly, soaring ten inches, dancing and swaying.

"Pick another color," Warren advised.

"Purple," she said without thinking, and just like that, it changed.

"Oh wow. This is incredible. How are you doing this?" She asked, grinning up at him.

He shrugged. "I dunno. How do you make flowers bloom?"

"Thank you, Warren. So much." She whispered.

He let go of her hand, and the flame went out. Her palm tingled where it had been.

Very slowly, as though he might scare her off, he brushed a piece of hair off her face. He shuffled closer to her, and she thought her heart might beat out of her chest.

He brought his other hand up to cradle her cheek and she nearly whimpered aloud. "Warren…"

"Layla…" he breathed, and then his mouth was on hers and her knees trembled with the effort of holding her up.

His mouth moved gently against hers, and she was surprised at the way they felt; how did such a hard boy have such soft lips?

Her brain stopped working and she acted on pure instinct, moving her lips with his, every inch of her tingling and wanting more.

Her fingers twisted into his black and red hair, pulling him closer, and he grunted in surprise before clutching at her lower back, drawing her to him, parting his lips and rubbing his tongue against her bottom lip.

She opened her mouth gladly, rubbed the tip of her tongue against his and moaned at the feel. He went deeper, his lips as intense and wonderful as the rest of him, kissing her mercilessly. His tongue rubbed against the roof of her mouth, and the place was so sensitive she gasped, pushing herself closer, trying to create friction.

She could feel their powers clashing, trying to find balance, and knew he felt it too. She was dimly aware of the flames around them burning brighter, higher, hotter.

Fire and earth just didn't mix. They weren't even polar opposites; there was nothing there to work with, and Layla could feel both herself and Warren desperately searching for some sort of click, some sort of stability.

And then it came.

Fire was underneath the earth, glowing hot in the core; it was the sun; it was what made life possible. Plants and trees and every other creature flourished. They relied on each other, fed off each other, in a never-ending cycle.

Warren felt it the second Layla did, and clutched her even tighter, breaking their kiss to breathe. She felt his tongue behind her ear, felt his teeth scrape her collarbone. She pressed flurries of kisses to his cheek and jaw and bare chest, any part she could reach.

He lifted her up easily, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinning against his mouth before kissing him some more, making sure to flick her tongue against the roof of his mouth in payback. He growled playfully, letting her support herself, tangling his fingers in her hair. She did the same, clenching her legs around him.

She could feel how much he wanted her, and she carefully rubbed her center against him. He groaned and she moaned, and they started touching all over again.

When they finally stopped a thousand lifetimes later, Layla felt dizzy and achy and sated and unsatisfied all at once. Her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess, and she was pretty sure Warren had a hickey where his neck met his shoulder.

She felt amazing.

"I should get you home," he managed, his voice cracking. He ravaged her with his eyes, memorizing the way she looked.

"Probably," she agreed, hating to say the word.

He kissed her again, sweetly this time, and when he dropped her off, he kissed her another time, a little more deeply, with a little more need.

Her mother pounced on her as soon as she was through the door; not because it was past eleven on a school night, but to shriek and ask for all the juicy details. She had seen the last kiss through the window.

Layla smiled at her mother and agreed to some tea; she gave her the footnotes version (because really, the entire evening was just too personal to share), called Magenta and gave her the full version and then some, and then went to bed.

She was in love with Warren Peace, and she'd never been happier.

"Seriously, Layla, stay still! You're lucky you don't have a hickey, I'd never get it covered up." Magenta had come over to Layla's house to get ready for the dance. The school had been buzzing with excitement all day. (Coach Boomer was not happy about having to give his gym over to the decorating committee).

Magenta was trying to do Layla's make up, but Layla was way too keyed up to sit still.

"I can't help it." Layla fidgeted, twirling her silver earring around her finger.

"There. Done. Finally. What do you think?" Magenta asked, pushing Layla towards the mirror.

Layla's hair was pinned back in curls, a few hanging down around her face. Magenta had dusted silvery eye shadow across her lids and worked magic with eyeliner and mascara.

"I think Warren and Zach are two very lucky boys," Layla's mother chimed in from the doorway.

"Thanks Mom," Layla smiled.

"Sure. Now get going! You don't want to be late. Here, take lots of pictures," her mother said, putting the camera in Layla's little clutch bag.

Layla and Magenta got to the school early, but plenty of other students had as well. The silver diamonds hung from the ceiling and the disco ball turned in the dark, making everything look silvery.

Magenta spotted Zach waiting for her at the entrance, and Layla looked around for Warren but he wasn't there yet.

"Do you mind? I'll wait with you if you want," Magenta offered.

"No, go ahead," Layla waved her friend away.

She spotted Mr. Boy working the snack table and went over to him. "Hi, Mr. Boy."

"Layla!" He greeted, smiling. "Want some punch?"

"No thanks," she shook her head.

"Don't worry, the bubbles are just ginger ale!" He said, when a stretchy arm and hand knocked the cup over on to him.

Layla turned to glare at Lash and handed Mr. Boy some napkins. "Don't mind him. He is such a jerk."

"Hope you're not talking about me," Warren said from behind her, and Layla whirled around.

He scanned her from head to toe, slowly, and the appreciative look in his eyes made her beam.

"Red, huh? Nice choice." He complimented.

"I thought you weren't going to rent a tux?" She asked quizzically.

"It was my dad's," he shrugged, "he doesn't have much use for it in solitary."

Layla tried to hide her shock and how much she was touched. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, and he smiled when she pulled away.

After awhile, when Ethan finally showed up all decked out in orange and they'd socialized enough, Warren pulled Layla over to the corner and kissed her the way she'd been aching for.

His hands were on her hips, his leg parting both of hers-

Dimly, Layla was aware of people clapping and cheering and a bright spotlight…

And his head was tilted in a way that made tasting him so much easier and better and she ran her tongue in between his lips, stroked her hands across his broad shoulders-

"Good evening, first some quick…"

He pulled away from her, ran his tongue across the shell of her ear, made her shudder. "I fucking love what you're wearing." She shivered against him and pulled him back-

"Sorry, sorry, excuse me…"

"I thought you would," she breathed, smiling. His gaze roamed over her again, settling on her cleavage and the shape of her hips-

"A special thank you goes to our guests of honor…"

"Maybe we should just ditch this shindig altogether," Warren groaned when she pushed his shirt and jacket aside to lick at the spot she'd made-

"Most powerful super-being ever to walk the halls of Sky High… Me!"

That got Layla's attention.

She turned just in time to see Gwen Grayson rip at her skirt right there in front of everyone, revealing some sort of robotic getup and a cape. A helmet formed over her head.

"What the fuck?" Warren asked.

Layla silently echoed his sentiments.

What looked like lightning burst from Gwen's fingertips, and out slid signs reading Royal Pain.

Layla's stomach dropped through the floor. Mr. Boy had made them take a test over the most well-known battles known to hero-kind, and one of them included was the battle between Royal Pain, Jetstream, and the Commander. (Another had been the one between Barron Battle and the Commander. Layla had tried to skirt over that one).

A creepy, demented, laughing little elf thing skipped onto the stage, releasing a hatch on the podium and handing Gwen what looked like a giant, clear gun.

"What the hell is going on?" Magenta ran up to Layla, clutching her arm.

"I… I don't know…" Layla stuttered.

Zach and Ethan were right behind Magenta, and together, they moved closer to the refreshment table, closer to exits.

The Commander's voice rang out, filling the gym. "Royal Pain… is a��� girl."

"Yes I'm a girl, you idiot." A robotic voice came from Gwen- er, Royal Pain. "Now prepare to be Pacified."

The Commander scoffed, and Layla and Warren shared a confused and worried look. Gwen had really lost it this time. "You really think you can kill me with that thing?"

"My dear Commander, who said anything about killing you?" Royal Pain asked.

And then she pulled the trigger. Energy that looked light lightning shout out and hit the Commander square in the chest. He shrunk immediately, and the sound of a baby crying echoed throughout the gym.

Bursts of more lightning-stuff shot out as Royal Pain aimed at others, hitting adults and students alike. People screamed and panicked, running as fast as they could-

Only to have the exits barricaded by Speed, Lash, and Penny.

"Boomer, get the kids out of he-" the principal started to scream before she was hit, as well.

"Sparky, find an exit," Coach Boomer ordered, addressing Warren. He started to continue, and then he was hit.

"Come on," Warren directed, looking around for a moment before spotting their way out; a vent in the side of the wall.

He held Layla back, and then sent fire hurtling towards it. It fell off easily, and Magenta rushed past them, climbing inside. Layla followed, then Zach, Warren, and Ethan.

They crawled as fast as they could, and Layla tried not to feel self conscious about the way the short dress was clinging to her and the fact that Zach was right behind her.

They twisted and turned, leaving the screams and bursts of light behind. After awhile, they slowed down, and Magenta asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"In a vent?" Zach said in a duh sort of tone.

"Smart ass," Magenta hissed.

Layla stifled an almost hysterical giggle.

"Hey Warren, how about a torch?" Ethan asked.

"Not unless you wanna be barbequed," he grumbled, and Layla could feel his frustration at not being able to help anyone or anything, at feeling powerless.

An eerie green glow filled the shaft, and Layla fell to the side along with Magenta, letting Zach past.

"And then all the reindeer loved him..." Magenta sing-songed, smiling softly at Zach.

"Hey, way to glow man!" Ethan snorted.

Warren came up to Layla, and she reached out and stroked his cheek, squeezed his hand. He huffed, blowing his hair out of his eyes and motioned for her to go on.

Layla was really glad right about now that she wasn't claustrophobic.

"We've gotta get out of these goddam vents," Magenta griped in irritation.

It felt like they'd been crawling for an eternity.

"Head this way," Warren suggested, pointing to a place where the vent let out.

They did, and as soon as Zach reached the metal barrier, it was ripped out of the way.

"Sup, kid?" Layla heard Zach say.

Magenta crawled out after him, and Layla followed, pulling her dress down, but she froze when she saw Will.

He offered her a small, olive branch smile, but Layla didn't return it. He had done too much damage to be forgiven so soon, even under these circumstances.

Warren was right there with her in an instant, throwing a protective arm around her shoulders. Will's face fell a bit.

Ethan fell out of the vent, then popped back up. "Hey, Will."

"You guys are never going to believe this! Gwen-"

"Is Royal Pain's daughter?" Layla asked flatly.

"Yeah! And she-"

"Stole the Pacifier?" Zach chimed in.

"Right, yeah, and she's turned everyone into babies, including your parents, dude." Ethan sighed.

Will looked more than freaked out. "Okay, that I didn't know."

"I think this is more than anyone can handle." Layla groaned, turning and leaning against Warren, closing her eyes.

She loved that she had a safe place to land now.

"No, you guys, we can do this!" Will protested.

"Who, you and Warren? The rest of us are only sidekicks." Magenta hissed, putting an extra bite in her words.

She knew what Will had put Layla through.

Will sighed. "Just because someone has powers doesn't make them a hero. Sometimes it just makes them a jerk. It makes me a jerk."

Layla stiffened and turned around at that. Will pleaded with her with his eyes. "Layla, I'm so sorry. I never meant anything that's happened these last few weeks."

Warren went rigid behind her, and Layla realized that he probably thought she was going to fall into Will's arms now, leave him all alone.

Couldn't he see that she needed him as much as he needed her?

They were fucking co-dependent.

"And in case my homecoming date ends up killing me tonight," Will said, stepping closer, "I just want you to know-"

"No Will." She protested, stepping backwards. Warren looked down at her in shock. "No."

Will's eyes went wide, glancing between her and Warren. "W-what?"

"I said no. I-" Layla cut herself off. What if Warren didn't feel the way she felt, even after all they'd been through? Oh, well, too late now. "I'm in love with Warren, okay?"

"Please tell me you're joking," Will said weakly.

Layla stared up at Warren, gray meeting brown. "No. I'm not joking."

"I love you too," he whispered, and a giddy sort of head rush clouded over Layla's brain because all of this seemed to be happening very fast but it was oh so right, and she reached up to kiss him-

"Isn't that sweet? I hate sweet," Penny snapped from behind them, standing between Lash and Speed.

"You guys are involved in this too? Why am I not surprised?" Will asked, glaring.

"Go take care of Gwen," Warren said darkly, "we'll handle these bitches."

With one last despairing look at Layla, Will ran off, straight through a wall.

Lash reached out, grabbing Magenta by the throat. "Hey there little rat. Hard to transform now, huh? Worthless. You shouldn't have even been allowed into this school."

"Maj!" Zach yelped, reaching out, catching her when Lash let her go. He pulled her back into the air vent, and Layla could hear her gasps and wheezes, and Zach trying to take care of her.

Warren took off his jacket and flamed up instantly. Speed rushed past him and Warren took off, still blazing.

Penny duplicated and came after Layla. She barely had time to see Warren turning the corner and Ethan being grabbed before she branched off into another hallway, her heels clicking on the floor.

Layla burst through the double doors, into the cafeteria.

"Come on, you little sidekick slut," Penny taunted, "aren't ya gonna fight back?"

Layla turned around, pressed against the big glass windows now. "I don't believe in using my powers for violence," she said as calmly as she could managed.

She hoped Warren was alright. She remembered the way Speed had cut off his air supply during Save The Citizen, and fear gripped her.

"I don't believe you even have any powers," Penny smirked.

And then she hit her, right across the mouth. The side of Layla's face erupted in pain as her neck twisted harshly to the side.

"Ha," Penny said cutely, spitefully.

"Big mistake, bitch," Layla said, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth. It matched her dress.

She felt her powers inside her, lying in wait, and she tapped into them, remembering the forests she'd grown outside her house, the gardens that rivaled royalty's. This was just like that, only anger and not peaceful, creative imagination was fueling her now.

She reached for the ivy outside the windows, felt them grow and coil, and raised her hands up to direct them.

Penny actually stepped back.

A few seconds later, and the enlarged, strengthened vines burst through the windows. Glass shattered and rained down on Layla, cutting into her back and shoulders and legs. They wrapped around each of the Pennys, and tightened until they could barely breathe, out long move.

"I thought you were a sidekick!" One of them called out.

Layla smiled. "I am a sidekick."

She started to turn, to walk away, go find Warren, when another Penny called out, "Don't leave us here to die!"

Layla turned back around.

"Royal Pain is sabotaging the antigravity device!"

"The whole school is going to fall out of the sky!"

"We only have ten minutes!"

Way to totally keep the plan a secret, mutant Barbie.

Layla raced through the halls, ignoring the sting of the glass.

Warren met her back where the halls conjoined, and she raced to him, holding him tight against her. He was safe.

"Hey," he breathed, kissing her and simultaneously picking glass out of her hair and brushing it off her shoulders.

"Come on, there's no time for that. We need to get to Principal Powers' office," Layla grabbed his hand and drug him along behind her.

"What, why?"

"Because we need a map to the antigravity device. Royal Pain sabotaged it, we have ten minutes until we start falling." She summarized.

He started to run.

They hit the door head-on, Warren blasting right through it. They scourged the cabinets and finally found what they were looking for- the internal map of the school.

They found Ethan, and ran back to the vent together. "Zach, Maj!"

They crawled, out, Magenta still seeming shaken. Layla explained once again and laid the map out on the floor.

Warren leaned against the wall, keeping watch, while they tried to come up with a plan.

"Here's the antigravity room," Layla pointed.

"Didn't Royal Pain seal off every route?" Magenta pointed out.

"Hey, what about this?" Ethan pointed.

Zach snorted. "Yeah right, you'd have to be like a rat to fit in there."

Everyone instantly looked at Magenta. She winced and averted her gaze. "Don't use that word."

Zach's eyes widened in understanding and he reached out, drew her to him, kissed her on the forehead. "C'mon, Maj, You're the only one who can do this."

After a moment's hesitation (a moment they didn't have) she nodded.

They'd left Ethan and Zach to direct Magenta, and were trying to find Royal Pain and Will. As much of a jerk as he'd been, he still probably needed help fighting her, and Layla and Warren were the strongest (and only) two.

They followed the sound of fighting back to the gym, which was now empty of people and barricades.

"Will!" Layla called, finding him hovering over top of Gwen/Royal Pain. Had he already won?

Royal Pain repowered and hit him hard, sending him crashing through a window.

Seeing her best friend since first grade go hurtling to his death sent a bolt of terror and grief through Layla. No matter how mad she was at him, she still cared. "No!"

Royal Pain turned around, probably smirking under that stupid helmet. "And there goes your last chance at stopping me."

"We'll see about that," Layla snarled, taking several enraged steps forward. Warren held her back, and she stopped dead when she saw Will outside the window, in midair.

"Surprised?" He called. "Yeah, so am I."

"You're flying?" Royal Pain gasped. "That's impossible."

Will surged forward, grabbing her and carrying her upwards, then dropping her and hitting her as hard as she'd struck him.

Her helmet went flying off and she laid motionless.

For a beat everything was still, and then Will was rushing towards Layla and grabbing her in a bone crushing hug and she didn't protest because a part of him was still her friend and he was alive and Warren was awkwardly clapping him on the back while pulling Layla away-

Layla's stomach and heart dropped and her knees buckled when the floor dropped out from under her.

She shrieked and grabbed onto to Warren, holding tight. "The school is falling!"

"Oh God, if we make it out of this I'm gonna kill Magenta," Warren groaned, gathering Layla to him as best he could.

They could hear Ethan and Zach screaming out in the hall, and Layla felt a scream of her own rising in her own throat-

Just like that, Will was gone.

Layla clutched at Warren, wishing the horrible free-fall-feeling deep inside her would go away.

"Warren," she cried, a sob escaping her. She was more scared than she'd ever been in her entire life.

What if they hit the ground and they all died? What if this was it?

He gritted his teeth and held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

And just like that, it was over.

They stopped falling.

Slowly, they started rising. It was almost the same feeling as when you're on the freeway and a big truck goes past, making you feel like you're going backwards.

Black spots danced in front of Layla's vision.

"Oh my God," she whimpered.

"Holy fucking shit, mother of Jesus," Warren gasped, shaking.

Layla was trembling so hard she was practically vibrating.

They laid there on the floor together, until the school stopped moving.

Then Ethan, Zach, and Magenta came running in.

"Took you fucking long enough!" Warren yelled.

"I'm sorry!" Magenta squeaked, her cheeks stained with runny mascara, and Warren softened.

Layla jumped up on legs that felt like jelly and hugged Maj, the two rocking back and forth.

Will came flying back in. "Ron Wilson needs us, but first we should probably take care of Royal Pain and her posse."

They decided to put them all in the detention room until Principal Powers was back to herself and could decide what to do.

They unloaded all the babies, and then stood around awkwardly.

"Um… Now what?" Layla asked.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," a small voice piped up.

When the science teacher was through explaining, and several people had been returned to their appropriate ages, and Principal Powers was once again the picture of decorum and order, the group stood huddled together, not entirely sure of what to do with themselves.

It had been a long night.

Layla was curled up on Warren's lap. He'd went to the nurse's station to get some Band-Aids and cream for her cuts, and was now patching her up.

"Best doctor ever," she purred against his lips and he grinned.

He stroked her bare thigh absently, sending tingles through her worn-out body.

Zach was holding hands with Magenta, and they were whispering quietly. Ethan was emerging from the de-Pacifying line and looking for another baby.

"I think this belongs to the real heroes," Jetstream suddenly said, and handed the fake trophy down to Layla.

Ethan and Zach grinned, putting their hands on it. Magenta stuck out her finger. Warren just shrugged and kissed Layla on the lips gently.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and he sucked on her upper lip a little before releasing her. She relaxed against him.

"Whatever your teaching them, keep teaching…them…it." The Commander advised Mr. Boy. Jetstream gave him a kiss on the cheek and he flushed crimson.

Will seemed amused, and settled down between Ethan and Zach.

After everyone was back to normal, Principal Powers called all the students and faculty back into the gym. "I think it's only fair we let the students continue their night! School will be out all of next week, however; we need to make repairs."

The assembled teenagers cheered.

The group looked at each other, standing in the back corner. "I really just wanna get out of here," Magenta muttered.

"Me too," Layla nodded.

"I've had enough excitement to last me a long time!" Ethan yawned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I don't wanna leave you alone," Warren frowned, brushing a curl off of Layla's neck.

"I don't want to leave any of you guys," Zach said.

"I have an idea." Will said. "Layla, is your mom still up for hosting sleepovers?"

Layla smiled slowly. "I think so."

"Hang on," Will held up a finger and then went to his parents. After a few minutes of talking, he came back. "They said they could call all of our parents. They don't think we should be split up after everything that's happened tonight, either."

Looked like they were getting the band back together.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Layla was tucked safely underneath Warren's arm, Magenta pressed into her other side. All six of them had slept in the Williams' living room floor, among a mess of a million blankets and pillows.

All the parents had congregated late last night, bringing pajamas and clothes and making sure their kids really were alright. A big barbecue was planned for tonight. Everyone got along smashingly, even Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold and Warren's mom.

Layla's mother was delighted to have a houseful of teens. She was nurturing by nature, and couldn't wait to get to know everyone.

Layla's father had studied Warren intensely and then warned him that if he stepped a toe out of line, he would regret it; Layla had cracked up at the thought of her sweet father threatening someone.

Warren hadn't seem as amused.

Layla and Warren bowed out of the barbecue early that night, escaping on his bike. They went back to his empty house, kissing their way from the driveway to the living room.

Layla's knees pressed into the couch and she leaned against it, allowing his tongue into her mouth, sliding his shirt up and over.

Things were never meant to be slow with the two of them.

Not when they got going like this.

She sighed and traced every contour of his chest with her fingers, down to his stomach, over his arms. He shuddered underneath her.

"I love you," he whispered raggedly.

"I love you," she breathed back, looking up at him in wonder.

If someone had told her a few months ago that this is what she'd be doing and saying to Warren Peace she'd have laughed in their face. Now there was nowhere else she'd rather be in the entire world.

His fingers slid up under her shirt, teasing around her belly button. She moaned and arched her back, kissing down his neck, across his collar bone.

His hand found her butt, squeezed once, then hiked her leg over his hip. She sighed before bringing her mouth back to his.

He picked her up and carried her upstairs to his room. Her shirt got lost somewhere, and then her jeans, and suddenly there was nothing but skin on skin, delicious touches and moans and friction and pleading and ecstasy and pain and declarations of love and tiny bursts of flame moving up and down their entwined bodies.

Outside, the flowers bloomed larger and more stunning than they ever had before.

Layla Williams loved to love Warren Peace.

Fin

[tcfactory]

ngl my secret favourite ship is lbh sqh and mbj. i just think it'd be really funny for them to fight over the bestest little servant in the world and said guy just thinks they're fighting for the right to skin him alive.

That's honestly amazing? Like, I would read that.

I'm trying to figure out how this could work with SVSSS!Bingmei and what I have so far is like.

Binghe gets out of the Abyss early, head full of static and Xin Mo and Shizun (does he hate Shizun? does he love him?? he doesn't know, nobody knows, but it's all Shizun and the world better fall in line and let him figure it out) and when he goes to kick Mobei-jun's door down so he can have a sidekick in his demon realm conquering (he wants to do it to prove something to Shizun... it's not clear to him what, but he's sure it was a good idea when he came up with it, Shizun always said he's his smartest student so this has to be The Smartest Idea Ever too) and Airplane is like

"Wait, stop right there, (You are not supposed to be here yet, System wtf, all right all right if we can change things now let's see if I can FIX THIS SHIT so we don't all have to live under an overly horny tyrant forever) that sword is cursed, it's bad for you, it will consume you, if you want to do this right you have to put it back where you found it."

And Xin Mo is whispering all about how Shang Qinghua is lying, but Mobei-jun is very insistent that his weird little peak lord guy Knows Things and Is (almost) Always Right About Relic Stuff so Binghe caves. All right, they will put Xin Mo back for like a week so weird little guy can see that Binghe is FINE and HEALTHY and THINKING ABSOLUTELY CLEARLY because Shizun taught him to always approach things from multiple angles to find the best course of action (it was, as you guessed, Shen Yuan trying to make Binghe think twice about turning him into a human stick. In the heat of the moment even a few seconds of hesitation can be life-saving, you know!)

But a few days after Xin Mo is removed from him his thoughts start to clear. His mood stabilizes. He realizes that he had a horrible low-key migraine all along without realizing and it's now gone. He's not as strong without Xin Mo - maybe not strong enough to take over the demon realm yet, actually - but he can feel the aftereffects of the sword. He thinks back on the plans he had while holding Xin Mo and blanches at them, because omg Shizun would disapprove so hard.

Not that Shizun's approval matters anymore. He pushed Binghe away. He regrets it, he mourned for Binghe, according to Shang-shishu, but that doesn't matter because Binghe is clear headed enough to realize that as a heavenly demon he can't go back. It was the correct thing to do, even if it hurt both of them. So he'd better get back on the training grind to make himself a life here in the demon realm so his Shizun can live the rest of his life in safety (oh that's what the conquering idea was about. in hindsight, he's really not sure he could have pulled it off, he has no idea how empires work). But now he has a fledgling king as a friend who can maybe set him up with a tutor or something so he can actually make that empire thing into a workable idea eventually.

Also, almost accidentally, he starts paying attention to Shang Qinghua, Mobei-jun's hypercompetent scared rat man of an underling, and realizing that Shang-shishu has Layers. Very interesting, kinda appealing layers. And he didn't have to speak up about Xin Mo but apparently cared enough that he did anyway so if Binghe maybe starts having a little crush, well Shang Qinghua is also very pro-demon so he's a much safer option to crush on than his Shizun. Mobei-jun seems rather territorial about him, despite doing his courting completely wrong, but that's fine, Binghe can work with this and charm Shang Qinghua into being his before Mobei-jun could. Shang Qinghua won't even know what hit him!

Meanwhile from Airplane's perspective it's a concerning development because he wrote Binghe, he wrote Binghe's go to forms of manipulation and courting and he can see them being directed at him, but can't for the life of him tell why. Is he still mad at him for telling him to throw Xin Mo away??

And the demon boys are getting territorial over SQH because LBH has like Young Demon Hormones or some shit which makes him act very combative and stupid around MBJ who he now sees as a romantic rival. SQH would love it if they would stop fighting in the middle of very breakable buildings please! What are they even arguing about this time??? He's so confused and a little bit scared and maybe more than a little hot around the collar because LBH and MBJ inevitably end up tearing each other's clothes during their scuffles and Airplane's gay little heart just can't take this. T_T

It's all such a clownshow from start to finish, as befitting these idiots.

[burningvelvet]

Quickly and poorly reviewing and ranking adaptations of Jane Eyre (1996, 1997, 2006, 2011) by their pros and cons:

1996 pros:

Best fire scene, easily. It actually gave me that excited feeling that good cinema gives a person. Much of the cinematic art was enjoyable altogether, including the costumes.

This film probably has ond of the best Bertha's in my opinion. She's truly sympathetic, beautiful, and fierce. probably tied for my favorite Bertha actress with 2006. She and Poole are given little time in the story, however.

Most adaptations shit on St. John. Here, that isn't the case. What little time he has is spent in making him much more appealing than I've ever seen him, both physically and characteristically. I like this, because many forget that Jane did love him in her way, and he is supposed to be attractive and nice despite his zealotism.

1996 has the best Adèle, which is amazing for me as a big Adèle fan. There is more focus on her and her relationships with Jane/Rochester. I particularly love the scene where J draws R and Adèle tries to play cupid a little, and when Adèle is offended when the ladies insult Jane.

Best Lowood plot by far. This is the first time I've been able to stand the Young Jane scenes, and little time was devoted to her early life with the Reeds, just enough to let us know she was abused. I like this choice. The young actresses playing Jane and Helen were the best and most rebelious I've seen yet. Their hair cutting scene brought tears to my eyes, which rarely ever happens for me.

Good Blanche plotline. I absolutely love the cinematography/aesthetic & set design.

1996 cons:

the actors are individually endearing in some ways (the scene of Jane and the mirror is particularly touching, as is their reunion). However, The biggest downside to this adaptation is that the chemistry between Jane and Rochester was lacking in my opinion. this is particularly notable in their meeting scene and first proposal scene.

William Hurt is a fantastic actor, and he's likeable, but he's not my favorite Rochester ever. He's alright. On a rewatch I could see myself warming to him more.

I love Charlotte Gainsbourg more for her music than her acting. Granted, she was young here like Jane is supposed to be, so I do not blame her. Visually, aside from her height, I can absolutely see her as Jane. As the film went on I warmed to her acting style; Jane Eyre is a hard role to perform due to her inwardness. I don't think she was horrible, but Anna Paquin (of later True Blood fame) as Young Jane Eyre somewhat outshined Gainsbourg.

I was disappointed in Adèle being sent away to school before the disaster and her not coming back in the end (why couldn't they have had her running with Pilot in the landscape shot!!!).

1997 pros:

Maybe the most accurate Jane and Rochester. I wasn't expecting to like him at all but he blew me away. excellent chemistry between the actors. The dancing scene was very captivating, as was the scene with him jumping from the walkway, their outdoor talks, him chasing her down the stairs — really, I was impressed, because I thought I'd hate this film. Like in the novel and in 96, both actors are a bit conventionally unattractive (well, compared to 11 and to some extent 06) - and like them, the characters grow on you.

BEST ST. JOHN (although 2006 has the best Rivers sisters) - St. John is described as being nice though serious, and looking like a statue of a Greek God with all the coldness AND beauty - and this movie is the only one who relatively understood that assignment (96 came close emphasizing his niceness). Most adaptations adapt his coldness but not his conventional Eurocentric good looks, which not only symbolize his colonizer attribute but also his appeal to Jane and the others. It's also important to have a conventionally handsome actor play St. John just as it's important to have a conventionally less attractive Jane Eyre because one theme of the novel is the critique of Victorian physiognomy & beauty; Jane/Rochester being unconventionally attractive is a contrast to Bertha, St. John, Blanche, Georgiana being attractive, so I think this element is not inconsequential. The difficult part is that beauty is highly subjective, so relying on conventional standards is key, as is the reminder that Victorian standards were a bit different from our own.

good Lowood plotline, good Gateshead plotline, fantastic Adèle with lots of adorableness & miraculous though OOC bonding between her and Rochester, fantastic costuming (though I don't know about accuracy), good Blanche plotline overall. Probably my favorite Bertha plotline for being sufficiently creepy.

1997 cons:

this isn't really a con for me but many people may dislike 97 Rochester for being passionate to the point of coming off crazy, and physical domineering as when he grabs Jane when she tries to leave — however, this does kind of fit for canonical Rochester & I don't mind it since he's supposed to be that way, but this is still arguably a con nevertheless. he does come off as too forward but i get they were trying to capture the whole overpassionate thing. it does come off as a little more toxic than other depictions perhaps!

I have very few complaints overall. I don't think the chemistry is as appealing as 2006, but it is accurate. I wish there was more Adèle, but you can't have everything.

The posters are bad and make the actors look worse than they are which subsequently turns people away. I think 1996 was marketed a bit better but that 2006 also suffers from bad poster syndrome which had an effect on me also. Presentation is important; marketing and advertising are also important in cinema. The aesthetic isn't as good as 1996 although I don't think the visuals are bad overall.

Jane is a little dissociative seeming, which can be off-putting for myself and other viewers I assume, but to be fair she is described as being like a weird little elf creature in the book, and the actress plays this very well, actually looking quite ill when Rochester asks if she is.

2006 pros:

Best chemistry between Jane/Rochester by far and for this reason will always be my favorite because it actually made me fall in love with Rochester in the end though I didn't like his portrayal at all at first (that's power! — and my love for this Rochester should arguably be a con for the sake of my sanity and pride). best Rochester imo and a fantastic Jane. I love love love the way they did the Rochester storytime flashbacks and fleshed out his character as a result.

Best and most enjoyable Blanche Ingram plotline by far (although no one likes the lack of Rochester-in-drag, the party scenes & insertion of the twin flame theory was delightful).

some of the best dialogue, fantastic Adèle plotline, good Bertha plotline, best Pilot, best Rosamond, good costuming, good sets/locations (the fairytale ambience of Jane walking outside before meeting Rochester! Rochester's weird study!), I like the extra focus placed on themes such as nature/genetics/science, religion, travel, sexuality, etc.

2006 cons:

I dislike the way they did the Lowood and Gateshead plots, and although the Rivers sisters were good, I resent their St. John plotline for the most part. I disliked the lack of mystery surrounding Bertha; I think they made it way too obvious & not creepy enough, especially in showing her perspective from the window and giving her lines (one line, calling Jane a whore in Spanish) which no other adaptation does. I was sorely bored before and after Thornfield and only really revived when she got back to Ferndean (although Jane's flashbacks and some of the St. John plotline [the references to love, reminding us of her inner thoughts of Rochester] kept me alive). I suppose there were prices to pay for the excellence of the Jane and Rochester moments. - in comparison these seem like small prices, but still!

2011 pros:

deciding to go with a non-linear structure was a fantastic choice though I was skeptical of it at first, good St. John plotline for the most part & which they put emphasis on, really fantastic Jane with a lot of good fierce moments & lines, maybe the best Gateshead plotline including Mrs. Reed & the Red Room scene (although the lack of red was disappointing, and the lack of explanation for the chimney monster is conflicting – was it all in her head?), good young Jane, one of the best Richard Masons, star-studded cast, good dialogue, maybe the best costuming, Aesthetic™️

2011 cons:

least favorite adele (not insulting the child actress, this is the fault of the writers/directors)

— this is where i call security to protect me from an onslaught of jane eyre 2011 fans here on tumblr. alright, maybe i should watch it again — but i was expecting a lot more. particularly from michael fassbender as mr. rochester. probably my least favorite rochester by far & the least sympathetic. this rochester captures the dark and dangerous part of him but imo not so much the higher feelings that define him. the lack of humour & lack of unrepressed passion/drama/rage is noticeable - rochester isn't supposed to be quiet; as toby stephens (2006) said in an interview, rochester never shuts up in the book, he's really too eccentric to even be adapted accurately; he has to be toned down to be realistic, but here he's muted too far. - i felt like mia was carrying all of their scenes on her back & that the chemistry really rested on her primarily.

Cinematography-wise, there are some gems in the stills (famous hand holding gif), but I dislike the overall muted palette of the film; many will think this suits the tone and in some ways I agree, however, I will always prefer color and dislike the epidemic of desaturation we've seen so often in 21st century cinema. For this reason, 96, 97, 06 all triumph against 2011 aesthetically for me personally, although I still recognize some of the artistry of 2011, it is not my preference.

My overall ranking: 2006 (primarily for Jane/Rochester), 1997 (excellent overall), 1996 (good but flawed), 2011 (I tried but overall did not enjoy it).

[caffieneaddictt18]

Bullies Were Never My Kinda Thing

italicized means Japanese

This is based on that one trend from tiktok where the k-drama fmc gets the classic milk dump and the american student puts her hands up making the cafeteria a wwe ring.

the song I listened to: tiktok 1 hour repeat of 'Dumb wit it' aka not my song

my inspo: k-drama bully scene & american student trend

My bike makes a skidding sound as I pull up in front of Karasuno. A new school. First school in Japan, but probably won't be the last... Not with my track record.

I park my bike and lock it to the bike rack. I walk in, my shirt untucked, and drinking from a juice box. My bag is hanging off one shoulder, and full of study materials I probably will forget about in a week.

I find a bench and set my bag down, trying to find my schedule. As I'm digging through it, I feel a body bump into my butt. I whip around, ready to smack a bitch, only to find a girl. Shorter and a little thinner than me, but definitely needs a shove from the right person to get her to move. I catch her by the shoulders. "You good?" I ask her in English, forgetting that not everyone knows English- shit.. um.. "元気ですか?" (Genki desu ka?) I stutter, trying to find the right words for the context of the situation.

"Ah! You don't have to use Japanese!" She waves her hand and smiles.

I sigh in relief. "Thank god. Okay. You good? Any bumps or bruises?"

"Oh, no! Himari just bumped into me! No problem." The girl waves her hands around, looking like she's trying to dust something off.

"Okay... just... watch yourself, hun." I let go of her after making sure she is stabilized. I turn back around and look for my schedule. I finally find it and look for my first period.

As I walk over to my homeroom, I enter and see an empty seat next to the girl who I caught. I cock an eyebrow and look around for a different seat. Of course, she just happens to see me.

"Hey! Come here!" She waves me down. I sigh and walk over.

As I walk over, another girl comes over and bumps into me. I shrug it off, but a voice cut through the peace that was my mind.

"Aren't you going to apologize?"

I whip around. It's another chick. "Got a pro- um..." I rack my brain for the equivalent of my question, but shrug and walk to the girl who waved me down. "You are seriously going to sit by Yachi?"

"Yeah, I am. Do you have a problem with it?" I turn around and stare who I assume to be Himari.

Himari freezes up, catching my eyes.

"I said, do you have a problem with that?"

"N-no." Himari scoffs, flouncing her hair and her posse follows after her.

"You-you didn't have to do that!" Yachi blanches white in the face, waving her hands around like a mad woman.

"Nah, no problem, hun. Besides...

Bullies were never my kinda thing." ______________________________________________________________

I now walk Yachi to class every day to make sure Himari doesn't push her around.

That doesn't mean I can be there all the time.

"I noticed Himari seems more... confident, nowadays." I raise an eyebrow at Yachi, seeing her face flush.

"Well... she knows my routine... she's also in the Photography Club." Yachi rubs her arms; her English way better than it was at the beginning of the year.

"That's what I thought." I frown, my nose flaring slightly. "I'm gonna beat a bitch..." I mutter, fire rising in my chest.

"Y/N! You can't do that! It's against the rules!" Yachi tugs at the cardigan tied around my waist.

"I know. Doesn't mean I can't wait for the perfect moment." An evil smile crosses my face with a laugh taking over my body.

"Y/N! Calm down! You're going to attract attention!" Yachi grabs at my short sleeve this time.

"Everything will be okay, hun. I've got it under control." I smile at Yachi, trying to keep her spirits up.

"O-ok!" Yachi smiles, walking to homeroom now.

---------- After homeroom, during a break -------------

"Hey, Himari! I need some help with something!" I call for the bitch while Yachi is looking at another club or something.

The girl smirks and walks over, sitting on the desk.

"Hey, new girl. What do you need help with?" Himari smirks, flicking her hair again.

I smile all nice and pretty and lean close to her, like I'm going to point something out to her. Instead... she's going to know not to pick on Yachi again.

"If you ever push Yachi around again, I will personally make sure to make whatever area we are in a WWE match that you will be guaranteed to lose... got it?" I smirk, waiting for her response. I can feel her cold sweats radiating from her neck as I smile behind the big textbook.

"Whatever, new girl." Himari tries to leave, but my hand clamps on her shoulder.

"My name is Y/N... and you should do good to remember it." I smile all pretty to really send the message home.

Himari scoffs and walks off in perfect timing with Yachi coming inside.

"Hey, Y/N! I found another club! It's for the boys volleyball team. I'm going to be like a... 'mini-manager', as you would call it."

"Sounds perfect for you, Yachi. Are you sure about this?" I know she gets nervous around new people.

"Su-sure! I met their 'main manager', Kiyoko. She seems nice." Yachi smiles and gets more comfortable talking about the club.

"Okay. But I'm coming with you. No one is allowed to mess with you."

"O-okay!" Yachi stammers, getting into her seat for our class.

______________________________________________________________

"Hey, guys. I remember you talking about how the team would need a new manager, so... Meet your new manager." Kiyoko introduces Yachi.

I stand off to the side, ready to throw hands if need be.

"YOU'RE SO CUTE!!!" Two boys jump at Yachi, and Kiyoko and I hold them back.

"Hands off!" I shout at the two loud boys.

"Huh?" They look up at me. I cross my arms and stand protectively in front of Yachi.

"You're pretty too!" My eye twitches. 'Did those two idiots think I was jealous of Yachi?'

"Not what I was here for, but okay." I shrug and take up my post beside Yachi again.

"You're the new American transfer, huh?" The tall blonde asked rhetorically.

"The one and only, beanpole." I stay indifferent. This is no different than American schools.

Minus the fact that there is less school shootings and fist fights...

So a little boring, but it's fine.

"So why do you use Japanese, if pretty much everyone knows English?" A little carrot sprout asks me.

I smirk and look him up and down. "Because people get weirded out if you don't know their culture or language, sweetheart. Especially when it's only one person in a school of hundreds."

"Well, everyone has noticed how Blondie here has a bodyguard after a few run-ins with Himari. That's you then." Tsukishima attempts to get under my skin.

"What can I say?

Bullies were never my kind of thing."

_____________________________________________________________

I noticed how Yachi is being a recluse again, a tell-tale sign of Himari bullying her again.

I sigh and continue trudging on. I'm just kinda hoping that Yachi stands up for herself now.

As we go into homeroom, Himari shoulder-checks Yachi as she walks to her seat.

I sigh and shoulder-check Himari back, giving her a tired look and shaking my head. "Don't start that shit today, Himari. I'm too tired for this crap."

Himari just giggles and sits down. I sigh and roll my shoulders, sitting down. I pull out my materials for class and do the work.

--------- After classes, now lunch time ----------

"Hey, Yachi? I'm gonna go get some lunch. Be right back." I wink and send her a finger gun.

I walk to a vending machine and grab a drink for my lunch.

"Hey! Y/N-san!" Hinata shouted in the halls, running at me.

"Ahhhh!" I wait for impact of a short carrot sprout, but none comes. I let out a breath of relief.

"What do you need, Carrot?" I ask Hinata, walking back to my classroom.

"I need help with tutoring, and I know you and Yachi share a class, so I was hoping you could help me?" Hinata asks me.

"Um... Why don't you ask Tsukishima? He's a pretty smart guy too." I shrug and walk on.

"Tsukishima is rude, and while his methods of studying works... Hinata can't handle the pressure." Kageyama joins us as we pass a milk vending machine.

I shrug, "Makes sense. Mine's not any better. I just use a different method, but sure. Whatever you guys want."

"Awesome!" Hinata jumps in the air.

"So I need help with math and English class. I'm pretty sure Kageyama needs help with everything-" Hinata is quieted by Kageyama who is slapping the back of his head.

"Boke, Hinata, BOKE! I don't need help with anything!" Kageyama pouts and shakes his fist angrily.

"But didn't you fail your English test? And your formal Japanese tests? And your..." Hinata's words are drowned out by the scene that plays out in front of me.

Himari is laughing... and pouring milk on Yachi's lap.

Instantly, my body locks up, all of my muscles tensing. I don't even hear my bag dropping.

"Um... Y/N-san?" Hinata's voice sounds as if it's far away.

"I'll be right back, Hinata." I say as I walk over to Himari, putting my hair up, eyes wide and tunnel vision on Himari.

"Oh no..." Kageyama says as Tsukishima passes the classroom with Yamaguchi.

"What are you saying 'oh no' for King? Did someone steal your milk?-" Tsukishima is cut off seeing Y/N tap Himari's shoulder. He immediately pulls out his phone and starts recording.

Himari turns around and is immediately met with a fist to the face. Himari falls to the ground, her hair whipping around and almost catching on Y/N. Y/N grabs Himari before she can fall and lands another five-fingered punch, letting her fall this time.

"Come on, bitch! I know you can understand me because you reacted when I talked in English!" Y/N lands a hit on Himari's stomach, causing the bully to keel over.

"I thought you said you were the baddest bitch in the school! Or did I hear wrong?!" Y/N hits Himari with a right-handed uppercut followed by a left-handed punch directly on her cheek.

By then, Himari is so pissed. All of her friends back off and cringe.

"You'll pay... you illiterate American cunt." Himari quietly talks, throwing a weak-ass punch.

Y/N blocks the feeble punch, not even bothering to hit again. "I serve cunt, you repugnant skid mark."

Y/N, after not having anything fun to do around the school, finally grins. She has been waiting for this moment.

The moment her rage can be unleashed.

She held nothing back. She hit left and right, left and right, left and right... again and again... and again.

Himari was helpless against the rage of an American teen.

As Himari lays helplessly at Y/N's feet.

"So who's next?" Y/N looks around the classroom, a dark grin appearing on her face. Nobody dares to face her.

Y/N takes a deep breath, "Come on, Yachi. Lets get you cleaned up." Y/N leads Yachi out of the classroom.

"I want that footage, Tsukishima!" Y/N shouts at the tall boy.

The other boys just walk out of the classroom, scarred.

"I'm gonna tell Tanaka-senpai." Hinata bolts down the hall, going to his own class.

Kageyama goes to his classroom, knowing he will probably hear about it later at volleyball practice.

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima go to their respective classes, knowing they will see Y/N there later.

"Y/N-san! Why would you do that?! You're gonna get in trouble!" Yachi exclaims from her side of the bathroom.

Y/N sighs, expecting this. "What can I say, sweetheart?

Bullies were never my kinda thing."

______________________________________________________________

Author's Cup of Tea:

Teehee *loudly slurps tea*

Tell me what y'all think. It's my first time writing in the Haikyu!! universe. Should I do it again? Should I do the same prompt in a different universe?

See you later, caffies~

Also, i am hyperaware that even tho i am a native speaking English-woman, my english is actual garbage. Any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you 🤗

[helloescapist]

Bento Confessionals | Fat Gum

Word Count: 3960

Setting: early established relationship; Fat Gum x gn!reader; SFW, short

Content Warning(s): brief hint of assault, hint of objectification

Summary: being in a relationship with a pro-hero is something that happens over time, and as work picks up for Fat Gum following the Shie Hassaikai Incident, you reminisce of your time together, determined to do everything you can to support him.

A/N: just me considering a whole bento confessionals series... 🫣

[not my art, credit goes to the artist!]

Sunlight filtered through the room, glanced pass sheer white curtains that smelled of the breeze that dared to drift through the open window. Its warmth danced across the humble balcony into your small one-bedroom apartment. The distant sound of the hustle and bustle of the day, gentle and unassuming. At one time, the hush tones of the market had been quite the adjustment when you had relocated to Esuha City.

The almost serene atmosphere having given rise to a nameless anxiety, and practically convinced you that there must be something lurking within the shadows. The peaceful abode a stark contrast from the hectic life you had lived in Tokyo, you reminisced as you maneuvered your small section of your loft apartment dedicated to the kitchen. The small number of necessities for life alone cleanly put away, and the trace of chocolate ivy dangling from the top shelf; it was a humble kitchen, one your parents had openly scoffed at, but it was your kitchen. The only other tenant the occasional house plant you had impulsively brought along to make the space feel more inviting, less alone. Their presence warmed the lower white counters nestled against a simple fridge, and wood counter tops, as you adjusted the faucet’s water levels. The slightest hint of chocolate ivy from the plant who had made its home at the top of the highest cabinet tickled your nose as you folded over the daikon, cleansing it from any soil or pest that might have snuck aboard its leaves. Their yellow bright amongst the blanched background, reminding you of the day you had first met him.

Boxes piled on boxes, chairs resting on tables to leave the floor beneath exposed, packaging delicately removed to reveal glassware, you had just moved from Tokyo in nothing short of a fit of rage and humiliation. The mere idea of your employer suggesting you relocate from your hard-earned role as the restaurant’s Sous Chef and abandon any claim of climbing the kitchen hierarchy to be… a mascot? Oh, the rage that had coursed through your trembling body, the curse words you had bellowed in the short man’s face as you fumbled to untie your apron, smacking it into his tacky mustache with all the might you could muster. His muttering of utilizing quirks as his excuse to depose of you, for the good of the health of the business. Stating that your quirk and pretty face made for the perfect opportunity to boost morale and draw in consumers. Oh you had seethed from every pore of your being, your face redder than the tomatoes you had tossed in his face when the word slipped past his thin, rat lips. Mascot. MASCOT. Fought to free yourself of the buttons of your double-breasted jacket, willing to expose yourself to the whole staff—the patisserie had certain caught a glimpse, but whatever it took to rid you of the fine cuisine’s establishment embroidered on your breast. Trampling the material in one final attempt to swing at the executive chef, the saucier having blocked your route, having simple to settle for being hoisted out of the restaurant by the chef de cuisine alongside a few of the waiting staff. When the news broke to your family, things had only grown more turbulent (and provided fuel to your fire) as they struggled to comprehend your refusal of “promotion”. Reminiscent of the days preceding your graduation--- the shades of red your father had turned when you retired your hero license in pursuit of a life of merit. Except, this time had been worse, and left a permanent mark on your already tense relationship. You, unwilling to compromise your beliefs, and your family concerned that you had selected to live life on the difficulty setting. So. You said goodbye. Well, not a permanent goodbye, but, you did welcomed the space and freedom to spread your wings. Waved fair well to the crowded metropolis, packed away all of your belongings in whatever you could find, found a listing online, signed what could have easily been questionable loan opportunities (thank goodness for your older brother’s guidance and generosity), and escaped to the Kansai region of Japan.

                The café space was smaller than you had expected, perhaps far too familiar with those provided by the Tokyo experience. With a small eating set up—by obviously you meant a single table with two chairs nestled outside of the loft building, and a few opportunities in doors. The window framing the occupied space in aging stonework. Old dusty lanterns left by the former owner clung to the ceiling, a select few booths with seats that would need replacing, each booth composed of a small intimate screen, and a counter pace with seats close to the kitchens in need of maintenance of their own. The overwhelming amount of work beckoning your attention, and earning a remorseful laugh from your older sibling all the exhaustion of the move running through his mind as he placed the last moving box down on a dusty, wobbly table. “[F/N]? You okay?” His eyes wandering the silhouette of your back as you gazed around the location. “H-hey,” he had muttered before wrapping a warm hand on your shoulder. Only to be met with the look of determination flickering in your eyes before a confident smile crawled across his lips. To you, this building all though in desperate need of care, it represented a world of opportunities. A real chance to thrive, and to earn your own place in this world, from your own hands rather than your face, or quirk. “Just promise me, you won’t open a cat café,” he teased before bidding you farewell, home bound to Tokyo, and likely your parents’ restless inquiries, as you rolled up your sleeves and set to work.

                The demands of the job hand been more than you had initially expected—your fine dining experience had certainly familiarized you with heaving garbage (at the executive chef’s horror, the notion of a beautiful face wasting away in the recycling, but never before had you been on the ground floor, building a business. The long hours of cleaning and preparing for opening day had claimed most of your senses. On the last day of preparation is when you had met him.

                Deep in the final box of your belongings, you had missed the initial ding of the front door opening. So early in the morning, you hadn’t considered yourself at risk of pedestrians wandering in from the sidewalks. He had made his way in, his body tired from the long hours of patrol, and full intending to go home, having pulled an all-nighter, a snack and bed sounded divine, but the distant glow of your business had drawn him in. The cute trees that you had watered beginning to bloom in the weeks of your preparation. The store front hadn’t seen life in some time, and it had been a while since he could see through the windows, something about it the atmosphere seemed comforting and enticed him to push open the front door. “Hello?” He had called out, the giant smile encompassing all of his features, his round shadow drifting into your view. Causing you a shock as you popped up. “Is anyone here?”

                “I- Oh, um, we’re n-not open yet!” you sputtered, your wide eyes meeting his own. An uncomfortable smile spreading across your features, before slapping your mouth over it to conceal it. Too late, you thought, practically drowning in the misery of realization. He had seen you. The way his cheeks burned through his black mask despite the way it cupped his cheeks, drawing back pass his forehead. The hood of his costume bright despite the faint light of the morning hours. A giant F followed by a capital G, and what you assumed was an inverted F printed alongside the other letters, his grin evident and rosy.

                “Oh, no, no,” he reassured, waving his hands at you. The grin growing steadily, and a cheery disposition forming over him, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to welcome you to Esuha City!” His voice was practically booming, optimistic and bright as the morning sun as he bent forward, bending as well as he could with his round body. “Welcome!” Accidentally plopping into the furniture as he did so, the embarrassment evident in the way he rebounded, his hand on the back of his head as he forced out a laugh. As he ran through the introductions, you rushed to right yourself, quickly concealing your features with a black mask. This was your fault, you thought with a sigh. The  rosy complexion and affectionate way he regarded you. You had been so diligent since your arrival to the area, made sure to keep mouth covered despite the inquiries the grannies in the neighborhood had made, and now that you thought about it, they had spoken warmly about the pro-hero that stood before you.  The distinct rumbling breaking his rambling introduction, what you had believed to be the result of your quirk, Allure. His direct exposure to your smile, albeit an awkward one had ensnared him, and it would be a few hours before he recovered, drew your attention. “A-Ah, well,” he laughed, “I’ll have to stop by when your open, thank you for your time ma’am.” Surprisingly deft on his foot as he twirled from you, tripping over a table that he hadn’t seen in his peripheral vision. His forehead popping into the grain of the wood, and leaving a noticeable mark as he turned his head at you. Another awkward chuckle, and big smile. One that formed one behind your mask.

                “Please, sit,” you instructed. It was the least you could do, you had concluded, and despite his reassurance that he was okay, you had pushed menus into his hands, offering a vague request to fold them before setting to work. Your prep for the day to come had made assembling breakfast effortless for you, and when you placed your well thought out apology meal before him, you could see his smile glow with joy. Because of this quirk, you thought sadly, careful to avoid his eye. You were familiar enough with the pro-hero, Fat Gum, not so much as you were with Endeavor or All Might, but his accomplishments were known to cross newsfeeds from time to time, especially now that you were in Esuha City, he was essentially the pride and joy of the community, and you grasped the base concept of calorie intake in relation to his quirk. His eyes glistening at the spread before him. Mentions of it wasn’t necessary, and sorry for the inconvenience, things like that, that you quickly dismissed, “for folding the menus.” His enthusiastic praise over every dish, tearing at your heart. Was it your quirk, or did he actually enjoy the kabocha miso soup? Did he even like the natto—it was kind of an acquired taste. The takuan, picked daikon as yellow as his shirt bit down quickly, followed after a bite of tamagoyaki, as he hummed over the sizzling mackerel. The growing sense of melancholy ebbing at your belly, as you listened to him fill the air with cheerful chatter.

                If only you had known at that time he had in fact, not seen your smile. No, upon entering the Kappa Kitchen, he had only heard your soft hums, a song, one he wasn’t yet familiar with, and when you shyly peeked from behind the counter, he had only seen the filter of morning light reflected in your eyes. Sparkling and dazling in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something warm like hot chocolate, or as comforting as nikujaga on a winter day, or perhaps the allure of takoyaki under festival lanterns. The charm of something familiar and charming sending his heart into a small strum.

The giggle of the memory of his stumbling along the small restaurant formed on your tongue, and shaded your cheeks. He had been so sweet, that you had been convinced that initial reaction had been coerced. As you diligently layered protection over a chicken cutlet. Before skillfully wielding your mallet, reminiscing over the weeks that had followed. Upon the opening of the shop, Kappa Kitchen officially in business, you thankfully had your hands full—and no more mask slips either! The flow of costumers was steady some brought on by curiosity, there were those excited to experience home cooking on the go, and goodness knows that the onslaught of students during lunch and after school hours were enough to fit the utilities. It was in fact, none other than your present-day boyfriend who had shared rave reviews for anyone who would listen, mostly because his stomach was next to his heart, but he did in fact care about the financial wellness of everyone under his car. It was during this time; you would often see him pass the shop on patrol. Some days, he would peek into the window, an evident grin despite the fact that he was in fact, very much visible (to the chiding of the grannies in the neighborhood). A few times, he had successfully blended in with the crowd, taking advantage with your familiarity with only his alias. Other times, he would send a hero in training to retrieve a pick-up order. To the obvious dismay of the chittering older women who frequently stopped by, eager to see how your relationship developed, and the poor intern as well, who would sputter through the interaction, and read a joke off a script Fat Gum had provided. In time, he would slowly level up from casual greetings while you were out shopping to picking up orders himself, to indoor dining, to the daring requests for you to sit across from him at the end of the day’s work as your last customer for the day. It was all puzzling to you… your quirk had never extended pass six hours; why he acted as though he were still enamored was beyond you, but it was on one of those rare nights that he had arrived especially late that you saw a new side of the Pro-Hero.

The light had long since evaded the night, the later hour evident by the absence of by the lack of foot traffic outside. The quiet ticking away of the frog shaped clock giving away the time as you fiddled with the hem of your apron. The little frog motifs adorable despite your low mood. Your brows wrinkled as you hesitantly looked at the packed order before you, too embarrassed to admit that you had assumed your frequent costumer would stop by. You weren’t aware of all the specifics, he had only shared that he would be working with the police, but offered nothing more nor did you dare press for specifics. The information was shared over one of his late nights, and you had grown accustomed to his drop ins, and dare you admit… welcomed them. So much so that before you rested a bento packed with cutesy bear shaped onigiri, chicken katsu, a variety of vegetables you had painstakingly sliced into… hearts. Oh god, your hand met your eyes, shielding you from the carefully wrapped meal. Your cheeks burned, was it from the reality of how deep your emotions had delved over the past few weeks, the fact that you had longed to see his smile at the end of the day, or the fact that you were crushed with disappointment. Biting your lip, and releasing a sigh, you pulled yourself from your seat. Peeling your eyes away from the packed food, you had decided that you would leave it until the morning. Maybe some part of you just didn’t want to deal with it because in some way, having to dispose of it meant having to face your own blooming affections, and the fact that tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. Maybe some part of you, wanted to believe that he was just running late, and would collect the box after you had gone to bed. Whatever the motivation for procrastination, you left it there as well as the door unlocked. Numbly turning off the light in the dining room before dragging yourself to the kitchen to clean up from a day’s work.

That night had been the driving point in your relationship, you mused to yourself as you carefully mixed together the flour and cornstarch. Draining the chicken from the marinade as you thoroughly allowed it resist before beginning to drudge it. Yes, that night had been the true starting point although you didn’t like to think about it.

You were careless, and way too trusting. You had left the door open in the hopes that Fat Gum may stop by, never considering someone else would have taken advantage of the opportunity, and if he hadn’t arrived in time, things could have ended far worse than thrown glasses, a torn mask and a bruised cheek. You had seen a new side of him that night too, well actually two of them. You had been introduced to Toyomitsu Taishiro, a well muscular man with quite the temper on him, and no holds barred against your would-be assailant. His late nights with the police having drained his fat deposits, revealing a man who shared a beautiful, gentle smile the same Fat Gum adorned, one hand pressed to your quickly bruising cheek where the man had slapped. Delicately checking you over, whispering reassuring words as the realization of what had happened flooded through you tears that fell, and crushed you into a hug. His eyes falling on the scatter ingredients of a bento littered across the floor. Little heart shaped carrots scattered around, and the conclusion that he didn’t ever want to see your tears again.

                Shortly after, he would treat you to a festival date. Blonde hair that glistened under the festival lanterns, eyes as beautiful as the purest daffodil that wandered the stalls in amazement. The opportunity to indulge in the wide variety of treats, full of wonder and excitement, but what stuck with you was how good it felt for his large hand to be clasped around your own. And how away from prying eyes under the glow of summer fireworks, he had delicately removed your mask. Slowly and tenderly, cautious to be sure he had your consent. The evidence he would withdraw should you show the slightest hint of discomfort. An indescribable heat that burned in his eyes as he slowly slipped the thin fabric pass your nose, exposing your lips to the night air before pressing his forehead against your own. The pounding of your heart as his hand clasped the back of your neck, the tickle of his breathe against your cheek before you daringly tilted your head forward, pressing your lips against his own. The soft hum of content that radiated from him, and how your heart felt as though it had joined with his own.

                Because the truth was, your quirk had no affect on those who loved you.

The distinct sizzle of the oil when the chopstick pressed into the pot before quietly adding the breaded chicken cutlet to the frying pan lead you into the next part of your task. Determination captivating you. It had to taste amazing, it needed to be perfect. Among all of the usual demands Taishiro endured, something had happened in the past few days. Something that had set off a wave of fires so to speak, lit up news stations, captivated newsfeeds, and flooded social media sites, and from what had happened the night before, you suspected had involved your pro-hero, personally.

It was late. Very late, but you had known he wasn’t intending to stop by for his usual order. In fact, he had mentioned work had picked up, and he would be busy over the next few days. You had grown accustomed to the vague exchange of information, such was the duties of a hero, and the burden of loving one was yours to bare. At the time, something about it had sat hollow in your stomach. Bubbled quiet doubts, an odd ebbing feeling that had nagged at you over the past few days since your departure. You were used to his long, odd hours. Familiar with absent periods, and even unsightly marring across him from unfortunate scuffles. Didn’t share a moment of doubt over his need to pack on extra calories, of course he did, but it was something about the way he had left you. Pressing his forehead against your own, his amber eyes gazing into your own. Something about the long pause, and deep breath he had contained when he held you. As though he were doing everything within his power to memorize your shape, the way you fit in his arms, the languid fresh scent of miso that hung to your hair. Craved your touch, and hesitated to leave… that wasn’t him. He had always been optimistic, confident that he would return. Always kissed your forehead before, sensually uttering, “I’ll be home soon,” in your ear. But not this time. Forehead pressed against your own, a soft smile as he gazed into your eyes. Instead of his usual farewell, “I love you.”

��               Something wasn’t right, you knew it. Every fiber of your being planted seeds of anxiety, betrayed your sanity, and had you resting against the bed, a pillow wrapped in his sweeter breast against your beast. Tucked under your chin as you traced the floor, telling yourself to trust him. To believe in him. He would come back. He would, but the shatter of silence of the front door opening about broke you. He had come home, but not all in one piece. Taunt muscles, all of his excess adipose storage burned through. Lesions scattered throughout his frame, and even his uniform in shreds, Taishiro looked exhausted. His body heavy, his eyes obviously full of concern and the shadow of things he would rather you never witness evident before collapsing in your arms. He had shared things with you, things you hadn’t expected. Whispered things about Hassaikai, uttered conditions of his interns through broken speech before exhaustion had finally snubbed him out. Collapsed in a heap in your arms, sound asleep from fatigue that robbed him of his awareness, locked in your arms and weight pressed against you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

What had happened, was slowly but surely becoming known, and you suspected he had done his best to shield you from the situation, afraid of worrying you, but much like the circumstances that lead you to moving to the Kansai region, it did the opposite. It fueled you. Determination had flooded you, and consumed you as you carefully placed each ingredient with intention in the bento. Placing bear shaped onigiri snuggly in the corner, followed by a powerful salad packed with every vitamin, and antioxidants you could google, chicken kaarage decorating the side. A slice of lemon, a  sprinkle of katsuobushi, and the addition of fully garnished takoyaki artistically placed in the bento before you closed the container. Laying out a pink flower printed fabric, you paid close attention to centering the lunch box in the center, bringing corners together to knot it securely together. Uttering a protection prayer as you did so, your heart focused on Taishiro. Bidding farewell to the house plants as you locked the door securely behind you, departing on to the street. Destination: Fat Gum Agency. Sure, there were fears, such were the relationship hazards of dating a pro-hero, but more than that was determination and adoration.

                You would do everything to support the man you love.

[ao3feed-kiribaku]

I Cant Carry This Anymore (I need someone to stay)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/tzT7vNI by Firefly_543 Katsuki blanched as he recognized that name. There’s no way. Although, the man was eerily similar to that person just older. Which makes sense, it was over ten years ago. Shouta was a common enough first name. He could vividly remember the card that the pro hero gave him. Could it be Easerhead? Was his last name Aizawa? Or where Katsuki and Aizawa meet way before Katsuki is enrolled at UA, and it takes a pretty hard trip back home for Katsuki to reach out for help to the only person that actually gave a damn about him back then. Words: 10049, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: M/M Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Eri (My Hero Academia), Kirishima Eijirou, Kariage | Bakugou Katsuki's Friend with the Undercut, Shinsou Hitoshi Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki & Eri, Bakugou Katsuki & Original Character(s), Bakugou Katsuki & Kariage | Bakugou Katsuki's Friend with the Undercut, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Shinsou Hitoshi Additional Tags: Bakugou Katsuki-centric, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead | Dadzawa, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Bakugou Katsuki, Adopted Bakugou Katsuki, Eating Disorders, Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bakugou Katsuki Needs a Hug, Inspired by Music, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, warped timeline, Divorced Bakugou Masaru/Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Mitsuki's Bad Parenting, Bakugou Masaru's Bad Parenting, Neglectful Bakugou Masaru read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/tzT7vNI

[foodandfolklore]

Gaia Burger Recipe

I got the idea for this recipe watching Youtuber Pro Home Cooks, and their recent video about how to get more leafy greens into your food. One recipe that stood out was the "Garden" Burger, where you make a veggie and lentil patty. However, the video doesn't really have measurements beyond what you briefly see on screen. So I decided to try my own version with a few tweeks. I gotta say, it was good, and I wanna share the recipe with you.

Need: 1 cup split lentils (any colour) 1 can chickpeas At lest one head of any leafy green (Romain, Kale, Spinach, Arugula, whatever) 1/2 cup of flour (any) 2 eggs (these are to help bind the patties together. You can use egg substitute if you're vegan) Optional Seasonings -Minced or Crushed Garlic (about 2 cloves worth) -1 Tbsp Onion Power -2 Tbsp Nutritional Yeast -Salt and pepper to taste

Cook up your lentils on stove top according to directions. You may choose to cook your own dried chickpeas rather than using canned. Cup of dried chickpeas should get what you need, just remember to soak them overnight before boiling to ensure they are nice and soft. You can also try using other kinds of beans like pinto beans or whatever you had on hand.

Once your lentils are cooked, drain them well. Now blanch your greens. Again, you can use any leafy green for this; I used a combination of Romain lettuce and spinach since that's what I had on hand. But you can use pretty much any leafy green.

After a minute or two of boiling, remove you greens from the hot water and hit them with cold water or ice bath. Once they are cool enough to handle, take a handful and squeeze out the excess water. Now chop up your greens with a knife.

Add your lentils, chickpeas, and chopped greens into a mixing bowl. Now you wanna manhandle it. Combine everything well, mashing some of the soft lentils and separating some large clumps of cooked greens so they spread out better.

Now you'll want to add your eggs, flour, and seasonings. I use garlic, onion powder, and Nutritional Yeast to help with the savory flavor. But you may choose to add other seasonings instead like fish sauce, Worcestershire, soy sauce, nori, ect.

Mix well with your hands until everything is well coated and combined.

Heat a pan on medium heat. Take a handful of the mixture and form a ball that's around the size of a tennis ball. Plop your ball on your pan and carefully smoosh down to flatten it. Fry for a few minutes until it starts to brown, than flip and cook on the other side.

Assemble

Toast your burger bun in the pan or in the toaster. Add some preferred sauce to your buns. I used mayo, but you can try mustard. My SO liked the BBQ sauce.

Now place your cooked patty on the bun. You can add lettuce, Fried egg, pickles, cheese, Onions, jalapenos; my fav was pickles :P Top with the other half of the bun and boom: 1 Gaia Burger.

This burger will not only taste satisfying, it will also leave you feeling full and nurtured for hours.

[campgender]

pro-addict anon from earlier:

I read your breakdown of that post on your other blog and you said everything I was feeling so much more eloquently than I could. the weird moralism of the post was absolutely what got me too- the way they acted like it was just understood that “being addicted to something is bad” carte blanche even if no one is being harmed in any way, and the way they were so intent on framing

ok so this is ironic but my edible just hit and I’m too high now to finish the ask, can’t keep ahold of my words. anyway- great job over there, keep up the good work, stay stoned don’t get well ✌️

god ily this ask makes me tear up from feeling understood. tysm & wishing the best of edibles to you in the future xoxo

[tanjirou-no-au]

BNHA Rewrite, Best Friends, Past and Present.

As Part 1 of my semi-comprehensive rewrite of Class 1A, let’s get started with Izuku’s main secret keepers amongst Class 1A, Ochako Uraraka and Katsuki Bakugo.

Ochako Uraraka - Uravity

Plus sized. Begins chubby and graduates to stocky.

Bullied as kid for her family’s poverty, developed anger issues and problems w/ bullies because of it.

Channeled anger through martial arts lessons, got good at boxing and other martial arts as a result.

Her parents are basically the Kents.

Has problems with the fact heroes have carte blanche use of their Quirks, whereas elsewhere there’s actually a lot of stigma around Quirk usage, and civilian licensees are so hard to come by that getting a license as a hero feels easier.

A lot more fiery in personality, and her determination is clear from the start. Stops hiding Kansai accent after growing closer to her class.

Still guilty over the fact she’s essentially becoming a hero for monetary gain, feels indebted to her parents despite the fact it’s not the case.

Intervenes against Bakugo when confronts Izuku. Tells Izuku that ‘bullies don’t need justification’ and then redefines Deku for him.

Insists that Izuku, Tenya & Tsuyu call her Ochako.

Still feels like she needs to be best, thus becomes very competitive.

Bash brothers with Ojiro & Kirishima, Bakugo’s proper rival.

Incorporates a lot of her teachers and friends style along improving her Quirk.

Incorporates gunhead style gauntlets alongside his judo influenced martial arts, then grapnel hooks, then a winged propulsion system.

Becomes...I won’t say friends, but good acquaintances with Mei.

Learns how to use a sword.

Her hero costume evolves into a mix of flight suit and knight’s armor, incorporating Ryukyu’s clawed headdress into her helmet, along side wings.

Her Quirk awakens to allow her to increase gravitational pull and direct it.

Foil for both Izuku & Bakugo, as they all feel like they have to be the best for different reasons, plus their anger issues.

First hears about One For All during the Mall confrontation, and finds out after the Kamino Rescue, where she’s a member.

Bisexual but clueless. But don’t worry, Izuku, her mutual crush, is in the same boat.

Bakugo Katsuki - Dynamight

Whoo boy, do I have thoughts with him.

On top of the anger issues and the pride issues, he’s somehow got both an inferiority and superiority complex.

Despite this, he’s more genuinely dedicated to heroism beyond just being unbeatable, just hindered by his upbringing.

Stayed friends with Izuku for a bit following the Quirkless diagnosis, but it faded as Katsuki fell victim to Japanese Society’s views on the Quirkless, which turned to anger at Izuku’s “foolish insistence” at still being a hero.

His parents actually try to discourage his behaviour, but it only goes so far when the rest of the world seems to be encouraging it, especially Aldera, where he’s the Golden Boy, but it leads to the belief he has to be the best.

His ego takes a hit when he realizes that Izuku was the only one willing to save him amongst a crowd that included Pro Heroes, and five months later, he finds himself unable to do the same.

Confused when Izuku shows up with a Quirk on the first day, which of course is channeled into anger that erupts during Battle Trials and gets him put on probation and in therapy.

It isn’t the straightest path, but Hound Dog & Best Jeanist do a lot to get his head on straight.

Still has issues with Izuku, and that comes to a head with their post Kamino fight and his guilt ridden breakdown over failing to actually save people.

Kinda chills out afterwards, as he realizes he doesn’t have to be the best anymore. Stops calling Izuku ‘Deku’, but keeps calling him nerd.

Angrily confused by the feelings of companionship and true respect he ends up developing with Class 1A.

Reveals the Dynamight name before the Jaku Raid. Expects to laughed at but is shocked when they genuinely compliment it.

Kirishima & Shoto are his closest friends, though he’s kinda close to Momo and weird confidants with Ochako.

[lcrissas]

bruna   marquezine.     she/they.     demi  woman.      ›     spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   LARISSA  “LARI”  MACEDO   ,   most   likely   listening   to   better   days   by   neiked   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty-five   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -headstrong   yet   +charismatic   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   ray-ban   aviator   sunglasses   ,   the   pitter-patter   of   rain   hitting   the   pavement   ,   ornate   old   fashioned   rings   ,   followed   by   their   blanche   by   byredo   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   how   she   slapped   her   step-mother   in   the   face   and   stormed   out   of   a   charity   gala   after   arguing   heatedly   in   portugese   with   her   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   (   muse   v   &   subplot   10   .   )

[  !  ]  WANTED  CONNECTIONS.

[  !  ]  ESTABLISHED  CONNECTIONS.

penned  by  HECATE  (  she/her  ,  pst  ,  21+  )

OVERVIEW .

STATS  PAGE .

NOTE : lari’s pronouns  are  she  and  they  so  please  keep  that  in  mind  !  please  don’t  use  only  she  and  only  they  exclusively  .  to  clear  up  any  possible  confusion  ,  my  writing  uses  both  pronouns  !

FULL NAME: larissa dos santos macedo

NICKNAME(S) / ALIASES: lari

DOB: 07/27/1997

AGE: 25

HEIGHT: 5′8″

ZODIAC: leo

GENDER: demi woman

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers , they/them/theirs

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

LANGUAGES: english , portugese , spanish , french

AESTHETICS:    ray-ban  aviator  sunglasses  ,  messy  ponytails  ,  the  pitter-patter  of  rain  hitting  the  pavement  ,  ornate  old  fashioned  rings  ,  black  lace  ,  takeaway  coffee  cups  ,  an  apartment  that’s  never  quite  fully  lived  in  ,  clinking  of  glasses  ,  light  shining  into  an  empty  room

CHARACTER    PARALLELS:    selina  kyle  (  dc  comics  )  ,  helena  bertinelli  (  dc  comics  )  ,  amy  santiago  (  brooklyn  nine-nine  )  ,  cora  hale  (  teen  wolf  )  ,  carol  danvers  (  marvel  comics  )

BACKGROUND .

tw  :  mentions  of  death

 larissa  is  born  the  eldest  of  two  in  são  paulo  ,  brazil  to  parents  who  weren’t  quite  ready  to  settle  down  and  be  parents  .  xavier  macedo  ,  was  an  american  ambassador  who  wasn’t  ready  to  take  a  step  back  from  his  job  when  lari  was  born  .  and  born  into  a  world  of  wealth  that  no  one  can  imagine  .  carla  dos  santos  was  a  flight  attendant  who  thoroughly  enjoyed  her  work  and  the  benefits  that  came  with  it  .  and  it’s  then  and  there  that  larissa  inherits  their  father’s  ambition  and  mother’s  wanderlust  .

 at  age  8  ,  lari  loses  her  mother  in  a car  accident  .  xavier  is  now  left  with  two  children  to  raise  on  his  own  .  with  nothing  tying  him  down  to  brazil  ,  he  tenders  his  resignation  and  makes  the  decision  to  relocate  him  and  his  children  to  new  york  city  .   to  be  closer  to  family  .  it’s  there  that  larissa  grows  up  with  the  support  of  their  father’s  friends  and  family  .  often  being  babysat  on  nights  when  xavier  is  working  .  and  at  16  ,  she  makes  the  decision  to  go  into  pilot  training  .  was  it  in  an  attempt  to  feel  closer  to  their  mother  ?  possibly  .  but  they’ve  always  held  a  fascination  with  aviation  .  

 at  18  ,  she’s  off  to  college  .  it’s  a  ton  of  back  and  forth  between  massachusetts  and  new  york  .  and  during  the  four  years  they  were  away  ,  things  change  .  lari  graduates  and  returns  home  .  xavier  gets  remarried  to  a  wealthy  socialite  in  the  upper  echelons  of  new  york  society  .  a  woman  who  lari  and  their  brother  dislike  .  and  it's  not  for  no  reason  .  she's  vile  ,  disliking  that  xavier's  attention  is  split  between  her  and  his  children  .  which  is  ironic  considering  how  she  has  children   of  her  own  .  and  since  returning  to  the  city  ,  lari's  been  attempting  to  play  nice  with  their  new  step-mother  .

PERSONALITY .

they’re  charming  ,  curious  and  fiercely  independent  .  lari’s  the  type  of  person  to  stay  in  the  moment  and  enjoy  new  experiences  .  it  explains  why  she’s  a  pilot  .  they  can  be  a  little  unpredictable  from  time  to  time  ,  again  ,  preferring  to  really  just  live  in  the  moment  .  and  given  how  she  grew  up  ,  they’re  VERY  independent  and  tends  to  avoid  asking  for  help  .  and  while  she’s  charming  and  able  to  hold  a  conversation  ,  they  prefer  to  keep  to  themselves  .

HEADCANONS .

this  section  is  a  wip  and  will  be  updated  when  i  think  of  more  things  !  <3

is  trained  in  krav  maga  &  judo  because  her  dad  felt  like  it  was  important  for  them  to  know  how  to  defend  herself  

 lari  used  to  go  by  larissa  dos  santos  .  however  with  the  death  of  their  mother  ,  they  didn’t  need  the  reminder  and  decided  to  go  by  larissa  macedo  once  they  relocated  to  new  york

 while  working  towards  getting  their  pilot  license  ,  lari  also  got  a  helicopter  license  !

 they  started  pilot  training  at  16  ,  went  to  college  at  18  for  aviation  /  aerospace  and  at  21  completed  the  mandatory  1500  hours  needed  for  a  commercial  license

graduated  from  MIT  with  a  degree  in  aerospace  engineering  !

 along  with  an  interest  and  fascination  for  planes  ,  she  took  up  photography  and  junk  journaling  as  a  hobby  once  she  got  her  private  pilot  license  .

 suuuuper  well  traveled  ,  even  if  they  don’t  get  to  spend  a  lot  of  time  in  the  cities  she’s  flown  to  .  she  still  thinks  it’s  fun  to  say  she’s  been  to  many  countries  and  cities  .  and  it  lowkey  does  make  them  feel  some  sort  of  connection  to  her  mom  !

 despite  coming  from  wealth ,  lari  still  wanted  to  hold  down  a  job  of  her  own  .  and  since  completing  pilot  training  ,  lari’s  made  some  connections  and  is  referred  to  a  private  company  headquartered  in  new  york  and  paris  .  her  time  is  spent  split  between  those  two  cities

[a-minus-content]

SO THAT'S WHY I WANT TO STAND IN THE ONCOMING MOON DRINKING WATER

Dear (letter): It’s no wonder I blanched?         (consonant)

, blushed, flickered / has a scoop

Has a well, a receptor for

People saying something, 

Want to be next to the tongues, 

Want to rush to be a bolster, 

Whenever earthquake waves blister,

And the dead rising, you know me, 

Cheer isn’t just a habit, always in search

Of the desert who deserves it, 

And plus, when the money starts 

To count *you* it always feels good,

To pat your pockets and get your hands on

Two in the bush / but now / 

That I’ve considered it, I always have had a problem

With any whiff of being apprehended,

So you're lucky I thought *I* saw *you* first 

And hey, but yeah, sure, someone did tell me I was candy.

Up to and including we are all some kind of transience,

Sure you can’t spell need with out the demon, ‘-ize’ without 

Some kind of quid-pro-quo, not just speaking of myself here,

“I mean, I shouldn't even be talking to you right now,”

“For someone given so much leeway you sure do say ‘should’ a lot,”

Hard to know what’s a privilege, what’s a trap and what not even so though

Even if the horizon is just 

A bed that tessellates infinitely 

Away, by definition, at least thirst at least *feels* 

Satiable, for a time 🔁 

[ediesfm]

anya taylor joy.     she/her.     cis woman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   edie   holloway   ,   most   likely   listening   to   tammy   faye   by   nicole     dollanganger   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   four     year     old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -vacuous   yet   +protean   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you’ll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   puppy   dog   eyes   and   crocodile     tears   in   a   child   -   like   bid   for   attention   ;   double,   triple,   quadruple   texting   ;   practicing   your   expression   in   the   mirror   for     the   long   awaited   day   when   somebody,   anybody   tells   you   you’re   the   love   of   their   life   ;   a   carefully   crafted   visage   based   on  pinterest  boards  and  instagram  saves  ,   followed   by   miss   dior   by   dior   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   how   she   was   seen   having   a very   public   breakup   ;   crying   ,   groveling   , and   committing   mild   vandalism   outside     the   home   of   a   man   she   was   seeing  ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .  

stats

full name: edith jane holloway

nickname: edie

age: twenty-four

birthdate: march 06

zodiac: pisces

gender/pronouns: cis woman, she/her

sexuality: bisexual but tends to date more men

faceclaim: anya taylor joy

family

father: lou holloway, acclaimed director

mother: sienna belmont, actress and heiress

sibling(s): fletcher “fletch” holloway ( older half brother, artist ) . sylvie holloway-wilder ( older half-sister,  academic ) , teodora holloway ( half-sister, child )

notable relatives: roman holloway ( paternal grandfather, actor, and producer ) talia rivers-holloway ( paternal grandmother, theater and silent film actress ) . alexander fauvel ( maternal grandfather, composer ) , various uncles, aunts, cousins in the industry

pet(s): bijou ( persian cat )

aesthetics

puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears in a child-like bid for attention; double, triple, quadruple texting ; practicing your expression in the mirror for the long-awaited day when somebody, anybody tells you you’re the love of their life; a carefully crafted visage based on pinterest  boards and instagram saves ; desperate texts after too much wine ; second place medals and the feeling of disappointment swelling ; a pink vape pen covered in vintage lisa frank stickers ; tear-stained love letters ; heart-shaped sunglasses in every color

parallels

cassie howard ( euphoria ) , blanche dubois ( a streetcar named desire ) , molly gunn ( uptown girls ) , penny lane ( almost famous ) , pearl ( x and pearl ) , danni sanders ( not okay ) , lydia bennet ( pride and prejudice ) , mabel longhetti ( a woman under the influence ) , trixie tang ( fairly odd parents ) , early 2000s paris hilton but like…less terrible versions of a lot of them lol

tldr;

imagine the neediest, try-hard, insecure girl you can but hide her behind a vivacious, ostentatious façade and you have edie. spent her formative years watching romance movies and idolizing the idea of being loved and belonging somewhere. painfully sycophantic; always wearing masks, trying to work her way into your heart. an insecure mess; the human embodiment of trixie tang’s “tell me i’m pretty!!!”. rich girl probzzz bc her parents are rich/famous but did nawt give her any love. used to coming in second place and being ignored so she’s total mess of a person but super sweet…unless you reject or slight her, then she’s all unhinged drama. embarrasses herself on the reg. <3

background

—  born to a hollywood dynasty family like the coppolas or the barrymores. they’re very well connected. grandpa holloway was a famous actor turned executive during the silent era in the 20s. he married a film star and had edie’s dad in the 40s. yes, edie’s dad is old. more on that later. edie’s mother’s side is also noteworthy, as she’s the daughter of a famous composer.

— edie was an accidental pregnancy. she doesn’t just suspect this, she knows it. since her mom has multiple interviews expressing how she never thought she’d be a mother. or wanted to be one, for that matter. ( she’s always applauded for her “bravery” and “honesty” regarding motherhood and regret while edie is just like uhh…wtf ) edie’s dad is an acclaimed director. he’s one of those ones where if you don’t like their movie, annoying film bros claim you just didn’t “get” it. i think of a david lynch or charlie kaufman type. he and edie’s mom met while filming a show. he was 52 ( with two other adult children from previous relationships ) and she was 44. needless to say, they weren’t exactly expecting to get pregnant.

—  neither of edie’s parents were super involved in her life. they were always busy ; traveling, press junkets, the oscars, film festivals, vacations…edie spent a lot of the time being cared for by nannies. a cliché rich girl tale if you’ve ever heard one. as many celebs do, her parents went through a contentious divorce due to an affair scandal. during the ensuing paparazzi storm, edie realized the cameras gave her the attention her parents didn’t. so while her mom pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and shoved her sunglasses down to avoid being seen, little edie would stop to show off for the cameras.

—  seeking out attention was a constant in young edie’s life. her parents never engaged with her or made her feel wanted at all so she became the type of child who would seek out attention and cling to whoever gave it to her. she was a needy girl and had a pathological desire to fit in. when one of the “cool girls” in school got a new pixie haircut, edie took a pair of safety scissors to her own hair that very same day in the girl’s bathroom. she desperately wanted to be liked which, ironically, made her quite disliked. she was the one kid who, if the teacher gave someone else a compliment, she’d be like “what about me? is mine good too? am i doing a good job too?” just generally a tad annoying.

— edie actually wasn’t particularly popular until she got older, when money and status determined who the “in crowd” was. people knew she was hollywood royalty so they treated her as such. but even so, she couldn’t secure prom queen. or get her crush to choose her. or land the lead in the school play. she was always runner up to someone else, never quite good enough. including at home, among her successful family.

— she was obsessed with the idea of love. she garnered a reputation in high school for being a girl who’d do whatever with a guy. she experienced a traumatic situation involving guys from her high school as a result. and after that she developed an affinity for toxic ass relationships and putting herself in shitty situations.

—  she never went to college after graduating. obviously she doesn’t need the money. and she’s never had a talent or passion. her biggest accomplishment is her instagram follower count. she loves social media. she’s a compulsive oversharer and definitely goes on instagram live in the bathtub with a glass of wine. besides that she’s in the tabloids for being a magnent for drama. recently broke up with a guy and was seen literally causing a public disturbance after he kicked her out of his house. a neighbor filmed her reaction and put it on tik tok where it went viral. rejection and abandonment are, like, her biggest fears. and she was very intoxicated oops

personality

social butterfly. huge social fucking butterfly. flits around from one person to the next.

v e r y agreeable, easily influenced and impressionable. eager to please underneath it all. the one thing being a people-pleaser means is that edie never became a rich bitch. she wants to be loved so much that she’s very sycophantic

seems like she has main character syndrome but make no mistake, she is a total wannabe. has 3498398929 saved instagram posts bc she keeps trendy outfit ideas and aesthetics she can copy on hand. relentlessly follows trends. craves validation above all else.

romanticizes at epic proportions. falls in love with one-night stands.

she tries really hard to make you love her but if shit goes south, she can actually be catty, petty & dramatic af. she doesn’t care about being messy.

doesn’t come across as the smartest per se but is actually quite intelligent in other ways. she’s perceptive. edie can actually be a bit scheming and manipulative. she’s good at reading people, adapting herself. she could probs be successful in numerous fields. unfortunately, her only end goal is being loved tbh. it’s not very #girlboss of her i know.

as a kid her parents just…didn’t like her much. so she tried to be The Very Best Daughter™ so they’d love her. and when that didn’t work, she settled for any sort of attention, negative or positive. edie kinda operates like that even now. she’s always performing. wearing masks for people and trying to charm and joke and bribe her way into their hearts. and then if they reject her, she’s reverted back to childhood edie throwing a tantrum ; breaking china, crying, pulling the plush from stuffed animals.

hcs

she has a huge age gap between all of her siblings. her eldest siblings are 50 and 41 respectively. it’s because her dad’s so old. and then his geriatric ass got his new wife pregnant so she has a toddler little sister. which pissed edie OFF bc why was her dad bemoaning about having her at 50 and not wanting more kids but at 78 (!!!!) he’s super excited and involved with his new toddler, teo, bragging abt her and fatherhood in interviews and late-night appearances. anyways it makes edie think there is something fundamentally unlovable about her.

she’s a huge astrology girl. will ask you your sign. she also has a psychic that she goes to as often as some girls go to the nail salon.

has an oral fixation so she always has something in her mouth…gum, candy, little drinks. she vapes too. def started bc the other kids were doing it and she wanted to be on trend. she smokes cigarettes at parties for the aesthetic and thinks it makes her look cool.

was actually very lonely as a kid and watched a lot of movies because, well, her dad is a director and had a massive film collection. so if she acts like a film ingénue, it’s completely intentional. she used to watch romance movies and mimic the female lead ; their affect, their mannerisms, the things they did that made the male lead love them so much. and then she’d emulate it. like in the mirror alone. it was a bit…concerning lol. but yeah ! she looooves movies and the idea of a happily ever after.

huge partier. microdoses lsd and shrooms. keeps pills in a heart-shaped locket. drinks a lot but gets these, like, bright blue drink concoctions that she drinks using those novelty bendy straws to seem ~fun~ and ~kitschy~ instead of, like, an alcoholic.

wanted

coming soon. will be located ( here )