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adjryonicusd · 3 years ago

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Marla Spreads (snzF, m, contagion)

Marla was so excited to see The Giver. Since the first time she'd seen a trailer for it, a few months back, she'd felt like it was a movie made just for her. Something that would speak directly to her life. She was looking forward to experiencing it so much, that she wasn't even bothered about going to the movie theater solo. She did lots of things solo, and this was for her.

Settling into her mostly-comfy seat during a Coke advertisement, her thoughts went to her throat, which had been feeling a little bit sore since the night before. She didn't especially like getting sick, but she could deal, if that was how it had to be. It happens. That's life. Had she begun to sniffle just a little more than usual, since this morning? Sigh. "It's fine," she thought, "I wouldn't mind a day or two off work, I guess."

She squeezed her nostrils lightly with her napkin, as the trailers started. Marla was pretty impressed with what she saw and heard. "Murphy's Law means whatever *can* happen, will happen? Huh..." There was one about the human race migrating from Earth. One about a woman manifesting the next phase of human evolution. A movie about religion or spirituality that doesn't actually seem full of shit... A thriller about the nature of reality? "Really? Wow. Movies are getting kind of real," thought Marla.

She checked in with her throat again, swallowing to see if it hurt any worse. A trickle of thin mucous ran down the back. "Ugh," she thought, "Well at least it's nice out and I can get some sun while I'm getting through this cold or whatever it is."

The theater was mostly full when the movie finally started. Marla was comfortable, except for her running nose, which she dabbed at periodically with the napkin, sniffing quietly. It was about a half-hour before she started to feel a tickle - minor, but really deep inside her nasal passage. "Oh boy," she shifted in her chair as the deep irritation grew stronger in her larger, Mediterranean nose. Marla was half-Jewish, then Italian, and the rest was a European mixture. She was about 5'5" standing up, and just a little on the curvy side, with 34DDs that she minimized with supportive bras as much as possible.

She bent to fish a tissue out of her handbag, the first sneeze now on its way. Her nose began twitching almost involuntarily, and she sniffled to buy herself a few extra seconds. But the tissue package was sealed, and it wasn't happening. Desperately, she cupped her hands over her generous nose and lips, as she tried to stifle her sneeze just a few moments too late. "HAAAT.. CHEEEEAHHAA!!!" she positively exploded into her hands, bowing her head with force. Air forced its way through her windpipe and her flaring nostrils, spraying saliva and mucous all over the palms of her hands. Air rushed out the sides of her hands with equal force, laden with millions of tiny droplets bearing her virus, gently settling on the 20 or so people surrounding her in the crowded theater. "Oh my god. Gross!" she began to think about her hands.

But although the flaring sensation in her nose lessened, it didn't go away. She went for the tissues again, nervous, trying to open them quietly, the embarassment from her outsized sneeze sinking like warmth into her face and chest, as fine droplets from inside her body settled imperceptably onto the faces, chests, hands of her oblivious victims. Once on their bodies, the transmission might as well have been complete. Already a few of them fidgeted, unconsciously rubbing at their nostrils with their bare hands. Once in their bodies, interacting with their unique chemistry, the virus would continue to mutate ever so slightly. The virus inside Marla also mutated slowly as it began to battle her immune system.

She had a tissue out of the package just in time. As she brought it to her face, she involuntarily exhaled, "HHHAA..." but the sneeze did not come. Then her head drew back as she inhaled sharply, and an even more powerful sneeze blasted from her lungs. "HHEEAAAAA CHHHEEEEW!!! Uh..." she blew an embarrassing amount of wet mucous into the tissue. But some spit still sprayed from her mouth into the air. How many more people had she just exposed?

The thought of leaving the theater began to arise in her mind as she realized she was going to sneeze yet again. She could feel herself growing sicker with each passing minute, as her large, beautiful nose continued to burn and run. She could feel the sneeze just lingering at the back of her nasal passages, growing to that point of no return. The third one came on fast and she had to use the same messy tissue. Mucous from the last sneeze got on the sides of her overactive nose as she drew in her breath, bent forward and expelled yet another blast with her whole heaving chest. The ruined tissue began to drip in her already wet hands.

The people around her had definitely begun to look, fidget a little, and make little noises to each other. A guy in the back yelled out "Bless you!" and a few people chuckled. Marla was absolutely mortified. Now she wanted to leave the theater, but she didn't want to do it right then while people were still chuckling about something she couldn't help. She blew her nose as quietly as possible, hoping the sneezing was over for now, but her nose was running so much the embarrassing gurgling sound was unavoidable. She kept a new tissue to her nose and waited a few minutes to make her exit. She was sorry she wouldn't see the movie today, but she could already feel an irritation in her nostrils, and this was just too mortifying. The theater was too crowded and she didn't want to be "that one".

She stood up and quietly whispered, "excuse me" while she stumbled down the row in front of the movie-goers. A larger man and his wife. Then two smaller kids. Then a small group of twenty-somethings. "Oh, come on," she thought as she felt an urgent need to sneeze come on. She tried again to hold it back, at least until she was out of the room. She almost made it to the end of the row, but then... "HA.. HAAAAAACHHHEEAA!!!" she had to bend and sneeze into cupped hands again, because the tissues were in her bag. The middle-aged man right beside her looked both sympathetic and disgusted. The sympathy was only partly because of the way her big breasts jiggled up and down from the force, just above his eye level. Her shirt was on the low side, and thin, and when she sneezed multiple times, sometimes her nipples started to get hard. But the man had felt a tiny bit of the spray on his face; it was unmistakeable. And she'd spread virus-laden droplets over at least another 10 unsuspecting people. She wouldn't see her movie, but the virus had accompished its mission many times over before she could leave.

"HA HAAA CCHHHEEEEEEW!!" she sprayed all over the door and the wall as her hand slobbered the bar on the exit, emerging into the well-lit lobby. She went right for the doors, covering them in cold virus as she left the building. People continued to follow out the door behind her, infecting themselves with her cold as she got into her car. She grabbed some napkins and wiped her hands off, then had to bring them quickly to her face as she sneezed again, "AAAARRETCHHHEAAA!!" Ironically, this one was a bit less loud and obnoxious than the ones that escaped her in front of all those people in the theater. "HAAAAEETCHEEEWW!!" followed immediately. "Haahhh," she sighed, growing a little bit tired from all the involuntary spasming. Her panty liner was just a little wetter from the tiny bit of pee that leaked, and it only annoyed her more. She sniffed loud and wet, and moaned again, "Ooooh. Fuck me." She found her favorite song on her phone and started it to cheer herself up a little.

Driving down the busy, two-lane main road, panties slightly damp, the insides of her voluptuous nose began to threaten another inconvenient release. Thin mucous ran down her upper lip, and she wiped at it with the napkins as another sneeze began to overtake her. She tried to hold it back again, trying to keep her eyes open and on the busy road as long as possible. There was a car on her left close enough to make her a little nervous, but it was too late. Her shoulders hunched as her whole body tensed against the wheel, and "AAAAHHHEEETCHEEEEA!!" she sprayed all over the wheel and windshield, scrunching her eyes shut with the irresitable force of her sneeze. She opened her eyes, light-headed, just in time to notice she was drifting into the left lane. The other car swerved left and laid on the horn.

"Jesus!! RRRRR. Fucking cold!" she cursed out loud, coughing sickly. She couldn't wait to get home, pee, and hide from the world for a while. But she thought she should probably stop by the drug store and pick up tissues and medicine, since it was right on her way. The cashier inside eyed her as she walked through the automatic door, sniffling. Working in the store, she knew the difference between sick and well, and Marla was getting sicker all the time.

She tried to find what she needed quickly. As she touched merchandise with heavily infected hands, enabling the spread to more strangers, she was almost overcome with another sudden-flaring sneeze, but she scrunched up her face and pinched her overactive nose shut with her hand, barely holding it in. The irritation remained, and she hurried to the register. The cashier held her breath a little as she processed this walking virus-incubator and told her to have a nice day. "I'll try," she said through growing congestion.

She walked out the door directly into the sun, and before she had a chance to look away, it triggered her stuck sneeze to build again. "He-AA.." she false-started as the irritation up her nose grew even more intense. "HAAA.. HAEEEEAAEEEEESSHOOOOO!!" she bent over and sneezed uncovered into the open air, her heavy breasts undulating up and down. A carefully-chosen, sturdy bra kept it from being uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable enough with the all the wetness on her upper lip, and in her plain white panties. Things like this were why she usually wore a liner, even though her time had passed a week ago. Thank god for that, at least.

Marla quickly adjusted her bra, wiping her hands on her shirt for good measure. As she headed home, she wondered whether Rob would be home, and how she was going to tell him about her cold. Not that it wasn't obvious at this point, but she always dreaded having to break the news that she was sick, and probably contagious. For some reason, all her sneezing kept making her plump, seashell sized nipples hard. And every time she bent with a sneeze, her breasts' jiggling around rubbed her nipples against the soft, textured pads in her bra. Even as she started to feel more uncomfortable from the cold, she had begun to get horny even before she started thinking about her boyfriend.

And now he probably wouldn't want to help her do much about it. Probably wouldn't want to be near her. Why would he? She was a dripping mess right now. She pulled into the empty driveway, a little relieved. At least she'd have a chance to pee, clean herself up, and change. Maybe she'd take a hot shower, too. She thought steam was supposed to be good for a cold.

She walked through their bedroom, shedding clothing down to bra and panties before she went in the master bath and sat down. As she was urinating, she realized she was going to sneeze again and pulled off some toilet paper. She folded it, held it to her runny nose and waited for it, still emptying her patient bladder. The sneeze didn't wait, "HE.. EEEAAASHEEW!" into the folded up toilet tissue, as her pelvic muscles bore down and increased her stream for a moment. "Uh.." she sighed, and thought in passing "That was weird."

As it slowed to a trickle and she wiped herself, Marla heard the muffled sound of a car door slamming. Rob was home. She flushed, reached under the sink and then quickly changed her panty liner. She stood in front of the mirror, reached back and unclasped her teal scoop bra, then pulled the padded cups off, letting her full breasts fall away against her lower ribs. Her nipples were puffed up and pointing straight to either side. If they were going to keep doing this, she wanted to wear a light, silky top that barely touched them.

She grabbed something appropriate from the closet, a simple but sexy pearl-white thing, and pulled it over her head. It wasn't quite opaque, and her big brown nipples were just visible through the fabric as they swayed gently side to side. She knew Rob liked this shirt on her, although she wasn't really thinking about it at that moment.

She went to the door to greet him. "Hi. Did you see the movie already?" he asked. "Hey," she said, a little mopey, wiping her nose on the back of her arm and sniffling wetly. "You not feeling well?" he asked? Her breath was hitching in and out again as she tried to get an answer out, "I.. Ha.. I think.. Hhhaa.. Oh jee.. AHH.. HEEEAATSHHHEEEAA!!!"

"I guess you're really not," he said sympathetically, but a little bit wryly, as she grabbed a tissue and blew another load of mucous, which seemed to be endless. She made a sad face at him, and said, "I started sneezing my head off in the theater, and I had to leave. The previews were good."

"Well that's something," he half smiled, eyes dipping briefly to the suggestion of her well-defined nipples pushing against her top and swaying as she moved. She inhaled for the next uncontrolable sneeze and exploded once more, "AAAAAAYYHHHEEETCHHHEAA!!!" into the tissue as Rob stepped towards her, admiring her huge breasts and nipples as they bounced up and down until they found equilibrium again. She picked up on it and gave a little smile when his eyes returned to hers. Just a little bit of extra blood surged briefly into his penis, and his mind and eyes wandered over her generous curves. He loved it when she wore panties around the house, and, except at bedtime, Marla braless was kind of a rare and wonderful sight.

Marla knew her partner well, and could tell where his mind was headed. But she still couldn't believe he'd want to get near her while she was incubating sickness and sneezing constantly. He was standing in front of her, tongue mischievously in cheek, seemingly not worried about the subtle clouds of cold mist she was sending throughout the room despite the tissue.

He took another step forward, and brought his hands up to her breasts. They drooped slightly as she hunched her shoulders sadly. "Honey... I'm so sick!" she half protested. "Mmmhmm," he offered, almost supportively, as he gently massaged both breasts. She sighed quietly, sniffed louder, and pouted "What are you doing? You shouldn't be near me. I'm sick."

He just shrugged and continued to massage her, then let his fingers play gently over her protruding, aroused nipples. "They get hard when I sneeze or something," she pouted, looking away.

Rob smiled at this. He said, "It's funny. I was just reading somewhere that a sneeze is actually similar to an orgasm."

"What?!" she pulled away just a hair and looked at him unbelieving? "What does that even mean?"

He shrugged again, with his shoulders and face, and looked into her big brown eyes, brushing her dark hair away with one hand while the other cupped under a breast. It more than filled his hand and he savored the heaviness.

"I don't know. I guess its similar in the brain. Releases some of the same chemicals, or something like that. I think it said that some people actually sneeze when they get turned on."

"Well apparently I'm just the opposite, getting turned on by my own sneezes," she noted.

"That's kind of hot, you know," and he returned to exploring her smooth skin, moving down to the middle of her exquisite hourglass. She had the barest hint of lovehandles and they were one of his favorite parts. So inviting.

"What?! You're crazy," she tried to moan, but it was more like a giggle. She realized her panty liner was getting a little wet again, but it wasn't pee. "Yeah, a little," he returned, now gliding his hands back towards her round bubble of an ass, moving in closer and hooking his thumbs in her panties.

"Come on," she protested, "I'm starting to want you, and I'm sick. I don't want you to get it."

"Honey." he said matter of factly. "I live with you. If I'm going to get it, I'm going to get it."

"Nooo, I don't want you to get it," she pouted, turning her mouth upside down.

"Oh, I think I'm going to get it," he shot back. She smiled at this and laughed, "Oh, you're gonna get it."

"Oh yeah?" he teased. But she was pulling away just a little. Her glistening brown eyes began to close as her lips parted and she began to hitch again. "Baby watch out, I have to..." but it came on fast and she shook her head side to side before deciding to turn to her right, trying to aim away from him. "HAAAEEESHAA!!" she sneezed sharply, spraying visible mist into the middle of the room, catching the light from the big window. She didn't miss his arm.

"See, you're already sneezing on me," he said, still smiling, pulling her even closer.

"Ew. See? I told you," she protested again, but she seemed to be softening. The way he was holding her was turning her on. Now she could feel the bulge of his growing penis, pressing her on her stomach just above her pubic bone. She was still having a hard time with the idea of him being near her, but she wanted him, and even as her nose continued to run, she felt the wetness in her panties increase. She moaned and closed her eyes, her shapely nose continuing to twitch and wiggle uncomfortably. She turned and sneezed again, "HA.. EEESSSHEW!!" spraying little dark spots onto his blue dress shirt.

"I think maybe you'd better take my shirt off and put it in the wash," he teased her. "Come on!" she pouted, but she was already undoing his buttons. She didn't really need the excuse. As she did, she also stepped back and pulled him toward the bedroom.

By the time they reached the bed, he had his pants and underwear off. They climbed up on their king mattress, and he faced her, his penis just rising to full attention. She looked down at it, smiling sexily, wrapped a feminine hand around it, and began to pull slowly, back and forth. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. He looked down, looked up to her swaying white top, looked up at her and said, "Yeah. I think I'm pretty sure right now." She smiled at him nervously.

She reached for his undershirt, he reached for the bottom of her top, and they pulled each other's shirts off. Her shirt rubbed on her nose and set her off before she knew what was coming. Just as he pulled it up and saw her struggling face, it overtook her and she sneezed downward only half stifled, "HIZZZHHHHEWW!!!" showering his large, throbbing penis and her interested hand.

"Ew! I'm sorry! Sorry..." she said as she kept stroking. But his dick seemed to throb, get even harder, and try to stand straight up. She almost lost her grip it was so powerful. "Wow, slow down there, Rocketman." She called him that in bed sometimes. "I need him still."

"I don't know, but there's something really hot about you losing control like that. I'm telling you, it really is like you're cumming. Just with your face."

"Yeah, ok. Yes, it's exactly like that, dork." She made a sarcastic smile at him. Me spraying snot all over you is just like getting off. Really deep."

"Listen to yourself," he waited.

She knew him too well. "Ohh, gross!!" She slapped his shoulder. "First of all, I do not spray! And second... that isn't snot!"

"Well I don't know about that," he joked. He was enjoying himself immensely. So was she, but she still felt the need to protest this some.

She happened to glance sideways out the bedroom window, and caught the neighbor walking on the other side of the street out of the corner of her eye. The light from the window caught her and set her nose building up to another sneeze. She shook her head back and forth, eyes closed, while her nose wiggled and flared. She breathed heavily in and out. "Hee.. Heea.. Oh god.." He watched with intent, fascinated by all these facial contortions. He could see her inner struggle with this sneeze, right in front of his eyes, and something about it just made him need to be inside her.

"Oh god... Heea.. Eaah.." and now she could really sense her juice flowing, her vagina growing congested with arousal, secreting onto her glistening, sweet-smelling lips... "HHHAAAAAAASSSHHHEW!!!" she sprayed droplets and drops all over his chest. Her magnificent breasts were almost crimson now against her olive skin.

Rob lost it and wrapped both arms around Marla, pulling her in to kiss her with all the lust he felt for her right now. Her moist upper lip rubbed on his. His rock-hard penis stood straight up between their stomachs, and he felt the heat emanating from her pelvis as her breasts parted to either side agaist his well-developed chest. He needed to calm down a little.

He laid her on the bed with his arm, then just lay on top of her, kissing her deeply with his tongue while they moaned for each other. His cock was aimed directly at her moist, gently flowing lips, but it bided its time.

"I deed you right now," she said through congestion between kisses. "Mmmhmm," he mumbled. "Now! Now!" she pleaded, "Please, baby!"

He lowered himself and pressed his tip against her lips, just below the hood, and rubbed it gently up and down, feeling out her territory. She was wet. He could tell she was wetter than usual. He had to give himself a minute to cool down, while he kissed her and teased her with the tip of his dick.

"I want... I want... I... HAAh.. HAAh..." He chose the moment, reached down with one hand, and guided his penis just inside of her slippery opening. She felt wrong, but she couldn't hold it back, "HEEEJJJJJIIIIISSSHHHHEW!!!!" Her pelvic muscles bore down so hard on him that he popped right back out.

He laughed out loud, "Wow!! God bless *you*!"

"Oh my god, I pushed you right out," she started laughing. This was a little ridiculous, she thought. "Hold on.. hold on.." there were more coming. The tickled hadn't subsided much. He didn't wait, and entered her again, pushing in a little deeper. "Oh god..." she whimpered, eyes half shut, and then she let loose with three in a row. "HEEEAATCHEA!!! HEEEEERRAAAAACHHUUU!!! AAAAARRRRREESHHHHUUU!!!" She turned to the side, but the room was hanging with the spray in the air. The light from the window beamed through parts of it like a cloud. He pushed back against her this time, pushing agaist each sneeze as her powerful muscles gripped and pushed on his cock, pushing in further and further. Filling her even as she constricted him with each nasal explosion.

While she continued to fill the room with millions of floating virus-droplets, he took the opportunity to duck down to pay their beautiful twins a visit. They stared back at him with their own big brown eyes, and he visited each one in turn, paying special attention, kissing her soft feminine flesh, and moving his tongue over every bump on her engorged spouts.

"Imagine if you sneezed while you're cumming," he mused. "I bet it would feel incredible." She wasn't close yet, but his thick penis was penetrating her deeply, awakening something even deeper in her. She felt him pressing against, moving over her spot, throbbing inside her walls. She felt his pubic bone gently pressing against her hood as he glided up and down her body, suckling nipples that had been aroused for hours by her own sneezing. Her lips puffed out like a dark pink flower in full bloom. This was going to be a big one. It was only just starting, but she could feel it. It was going to rock her, and she was almost nervous about it. Almost.

Just then Rob got a funny look on his face. She could quite place it. But he suddenly slid out, her swelling walls closing in behind him, then slid down until his rugged face was between her damp thighs. Now he was scrunching up his face! His nostrils flared as he inhaled almost silently. He inhaled her sweetness, letting it play with the tickle in his nose. Then he let one of his loud sneezes blast her still-throbbing womanhood, "HAAACHOOOOO!" and immediately another, "HAAAACHHOO!" He sneezed completely uncovered, twice, spraying her flower, her stomach, and even getting a little on the bottom of her spectacular parted bosom, heaving up and down with her excitement.

She just looked down at him and shuddered from the pleasure. He met her eyes. "Get in me!" she demanded. He complied, returning to kiss her, and guiding himself back inside. They fell into a hypnotic, medium rhythm of kissing, necking, stroking, fucking, fucking, fucking, not slow, not fast, but rising, rising just a little bit with every passing minute. Drawing it out. Letting her build while he held back, focusing on the rhythm to distract him from the pure ecstasy of her fertile oasis. The primal reward for being a man worthy of her. She began to feel her reward taking shape. Radiating from her button, and filling her insides. Surrounding him, holding his rising sexual energy in her own. She could feel him. Knew he was near the threshhold. She could feel her energy rising, beginning to radiate throughout her body in warm periodic waves, with their own slow rhythm. She would let him release at just the right moment, just as she started her cascade.

She was now wildly beyond aroused, reaching her heights. The arousal reached a point and just set her sensitive nose off again. A look passed over her face as she shook her head again. She was sighing loudly, moaning, sighing, telling him to wait. I'm almost there. Just a little longer. He waited, knowing that her spasms would send him over the edge almost immediately. Her nose scrunched up as she tried to wiggle the sneeze away.

"Let it out," he told her. "Just let it go. Let go, baby."

Both were almost to the precipice now. They moved rhythmically and vigorously against each other. She began breathing in sharply, then exhaling, in, then out. "Oh my god," she whimpered, "Oh my god... Ho.. Ho... Oh.. Oh god...." The energy in her clit, in her pussy, rose to levels she wasn't sure she remembered. She remembered the first time she masturbated. Then looking forward to the second time. Waiting for the opportunity. That feeling. The catharsis of total release.

Her breasts tingled, radiating from the nipples, all over the extensive surface of her skin. She hitched over and over. Her nose itched, way deep inside. One sneeze wasn't going to do it. It was coming. She was on the verge, about to cum. She was cumming. She was cumming!

Her innermost walls began trembling. Spasming. The energy moved in and out of her in waves, drawing him all the way in. Drawing him in further. Drawing him out. Drawing them out. His urethra, prostate, the whole underside of his penis throbbed in time with her, her loving insides setting the pace, pulling him, urging him on, giving him permission to release. To unleash. To unload everything he had, deep inside her innermost sanctum. He felt the first wave flowing through him as her second wave began.

They came with each other, her whole pussy making waves for him, his penis shooting wave after wave after wave of vitality into her body, into her passage, into her womb. She bent forward in complete surrender, sneezing uncontrolably again and again down his chest, down her heaving, glowing breasts, spraying their communing genitals even while her spasms sprayed juice through their tight seal, soaking him. His entire body covered in her. Her entire body filled with him...

And they met again. Just like the first time. They fused. Became as one. And began to create a new chapter of life.

#snz kink #snzfucker #snz #snzfic #snz fet #contagion #sneezing #sneeze kink #snz fic #sneezefic #sneeze fic

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uncouth-the-fifth · 4 years ago

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omg congrats on 100 followers! i love your writing. can i request #209 for damian wayne? thanks <3

209. "Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you," with Damian Wayne.

A week ago, you were feeling a bit stressed and spent most of the day in bed, searching for the will to complete your work. One backrub led to another and soon you were naked underneath Damian, depleted of all anxiety and fucked brainless. Your faces were so close that you could feel his jaw clench going into each thrust. He’d hit you with a series of fluid, brutal ones, then rasped against your collarbone, “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

You’d came. Instantly. Embarrassed and impressed by him, you’d try to play off just how sexy it was. Damian usually kept his thoughts to himself during sex, and if he didn’t, they were clear-cut questions without any sense of dirtiness. Even a little filthy talking was new. Not that you minded - at all. Damian had just smirked at you as you got dressed, leaving the topic in his eyes and only there.

At least, that’s what you’d thought.

The next time Damian brought you to bed, it was evening and you were getting home from work. You didn’t see him until after a much needed shower. He was in his armchair in your room, half-reading and half playing chess with himself on the coffee table. This was the most serene part of your routine. You’d take a shower after work and change, while Damian enjoyed your presence and read as he waited for you. Few words needed to be said, but apparently Damian wasn’t as distracted by his tasks as he let on.

“Long day?” He asked, innocently.

You pulled open the top drawer of your shared dresser, and as soon as you stole a pair of his boxers and a shirt, you dropped your towel around your ankles to dress. “Ugh!” You scoffed. “Don’t even get me started. I swear, I’m our only employee who has any idea what I’m doing.”

When you had your pilfered clothes on, broad hands settled on your hips and brought you into his delicious bubble of body heat. Damian’s voice had an interesting lilt to it, like he’d uncovered something and was bursting at the seams to test it on you. His fingers teased up the edge of your shirt and licked at your exposed skin.

You expected him to say something mundane. Instead, Damian purred against the shell of your ear, “Come sit on my face. Allow me to show you how much I missed you, beloved. Would that improve your mood?”

Your gut exploded into flames, a rocket reentering orbit. The floor and the ceiling switched places. Both hands on your waist drew out, cupping your middle and squeezing you against Damian’s firm chest. You felt your mouth open, felt yourself stutter to reply, while Damian’s grin broadened over your shoulder. Hypothesis confirmed.

“Um,” you swallowed, and turned around to meet his eyes, “yes, please...?”

Damian chuckled, and you were brought in for a buttery kiss. Rubbing your hips, he drew you to the bed, cursing between deep lip-locks. “I’ve thought of nothing else all day,” he promised, “making you scream my name, fucking you with my tongue...”

Too warm-faced to speak, you just moaned into his kiss, shattered by the thought. Damian’s lips seared to yours in a brutal, possessive kiss that left all sense of balance in your body clinging to your feet. His words already had your cunt throbbing, but it was his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt that earned him his first mewl. With nothing but the t-shirt between you and his hands, Damian could surely feel your nipples budding at his touch, and pebbling more when he pressed your chest together and pinched them. Your lips met again and again, insistent, wanting.

“...Feeling these pretty tits in my hands,” he drawled, breathless.

A bone-deep shiver rattled from his hands to your spine, filling your body with hot, tingling sensations of all kinds. You’d never heard him say that word before, but the grit of it tasted delicious when you kissed him.

You were nothing but willing when Damian beckoned you on top of him. Changing had turned out to be a useless effort, since Damian immediately ripped off your bottoms, kissing eagerly at your belly as you met him in the middle. He didn’t bother to undress himself; this was about you. Your thighs were scooped up and pulled snug around Damian’s face. The nervous giggles pouring from your mouth were traded for a sharp gasp - Damian spread your folds and filled them with his warm, wet tongue without hesitation.

He drew just enough to breathe, letting out a pleased rumble at your taste. “All for me,” Damian lazily grinned.

You tried to answer him, but all that came out was a drunken, “...Nnmmyeah.”

Right away, he is everything. His smooth fingers at your entrance, his tongue, his lips - all quickly blur together, making you squirm and moan above him. Even if you’re physically on top, Damian’s sharp eyes flick up to remind you who’s really in charge. His green, lidded gaze glittered with amusement and lust, pinning you where you sat. The look is so fierce that you clench around his fingers, and Damian smirks against your sex. Just hanging there above him isn’t enough. You tip forward to fist both hands in the comforter, rocking against his face and wailing.

Damian gives your clit a deep, drugging kiss, hums a throaty chuckle, then redoubles his efforts.

When it came to the other people you’d been with, going down on you had been nothing but a precursor to the main event. Even for you it’d been boring, and consisted of more awkward waiting than pleasure. But the ferocious thing in the center of Damian’s being operated on improving, on excelling, and between your legs that thing thrives. This is in no means a chore for him. He was the best at what he did, and what he did was eat you out like an animal.

His lips sucked deeply on your swollen clit, and you felt the fingers inside of you curl, curl - and your orgasm was suddenly on top of you, pounding through every nerve in your body.

Your trembling arms gave out one after the other, and with them you collapsed sideways against the bed. As soon as Damian was out from under you, you snapped your thighs together, chasing the lingering ghost of his tongue and gasping for breath. Damian waited for your last fortifying sigh to wuff out of you to start kissing you again. His lips dragged up your legs, then your belly, then your breasts, and finally captured yours when you twisted flat on your back.

You pressed a nail to Damian’s plump bottom lip, spent and satisfied. “I guess you really did miss me...”

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you

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cordria · 4 years ago

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Twin Cores - DP

Saw this headcanon on Tumblr… awhile ago? It stuck with me, and I ended up writing this, and now I can’t find it to give the person proper credit. Lemme know if anyone recognizes this idea and knows who came up with it. (heart)

Was gonna do this idea for the Big Bang thing, but I forgot all about signing up. ;) Wonders. So I’ll just post it and come up with new ideas.

~2,700 words.

Danny floated high above the clouds, up where the air was thin and cold and the stars sparkled brightly overhead. It was terribly late, and Danny knew he’d be paying for this at school tomorrow, but this was always the best part of his week. He couldn’t come up here all the time, but when he cound, he always found himself relaxing. Hands behind his head, he floated on his back, studying the stars.

He let out a breath through his lips and brought a hand forwards to massage his chest, closing his eyes. Yesterday had not been good day. An accident with some of his parents’ technology had completely ruined his day. For reasons Danny didn’t understand, his chest had felt overly full since. Almost like he needed to cough up something - which couldn’t be, because his ghost form didn’t have any real lungs to cough with.

With a groan, Danny stretched and rolled his body through a bunch of sharp loop-the-loops and twists, hoping maybe he could work out the kink. Nothing. Hopefully it wouldn’t prevent him from getting a good night’s rest. He was exhausted.

He floated for a few minutes longer, watching the sky and hoping for a meteor or two, slowly turning the overfull feeling over in his mind. He pushed and prodded at the odd sensation, trying to come up with what in the world it could be.

It had to relate to his parents’ invention. Unfortunately, the day was a fuzzy blur in Danny’s memory and if something in particular had happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to remember it on his own. All he could do on his own was a vague understanding of what had happened.

Getting zapped with one of the newer devices yesterday had resulted in Danny getting split - again. His ghost half had fallen captive to the hero-like obsession of his core, and had gone on a hero-spree. A memory of rescuing a cat from a tree in a very overblown, comic-like way surfaced and Danny buried his face in his hands, embarrassed for himself. “Ugh, I hope nobody videoed that. Or anything else,” he muttered.

His human half had wandered aimlessly through the day, not knowing what to do with no driving force behind everything he did. Vague memories of eating pizza and not noticing the ghost haunting the place next door until Sam pointed it out filtered through the shadows.

From what he remembered, it hadn’t been a horrible sort of day for either half of him. His ghost half had been allowed to play with his obsession all day and his human half had gotten to just be… human. But he’d been split for much longer than ever before; Tucker and Sam were unable to work through how the strange invention worked.

Danny didn’t remember being much help with the endeavour. In fact, he sort of remembered his human half stealing the device, passing it to his ghost half, and the thing getting placed on top of the school for the afternoon. Jazz finally got it using some of the newer modifications to the Fenton’s vehicle that allowed it to fly.

By the time the three of them figured out how to reverse the effects, it was late in the evening on the second day - more than 36 hours since being split. Phantom had started to turn more and more ghost, losing more of his humanity each hour, delving deeper and deeper into this hero obsession. His eyes had turned more ghostly, teeth sharpening, fingers turning into claws. Even a cape had started to mist into view.

Danny slowly ran his tongue over his teeth - they were still a bit too sharp - and pulled his hands far enough away from his face to glance at his fingers. They weren’t claws, not like many ghosts had, but… his fingers no longer really looked human. The changes that had happened to his ghost form the last two days appeared to be permanent, even now that they were rejoined back together.

Danny… didn’t want to think about that. Not yet.

And his human half had started to go through changes as well. Danny vaguely remembered - towards the end of the escapade, when he’d convinced himself that he didn’t want to be rejoined with Phantom - trying to avoid everyone and ending up in a tree, floating in a very inhuman way. His totally human form regaining some of its ghost powers.

Danny mentally poked at the odd, full sensation in his chest again. Perhaps it was that his ghost powers had grown while he was separated. Phantom hadn’t been exactly a half-a-ghost when they’d been slammed back together. And Danny had been just a bit of ghost too. Perhaps now he was somehow 60% ghost and 50% human… and his body was trying to adjust to being too much ghost.

His mind poked at the sensation in his chest just a bit too hard. Danny slammed his eyes shut tight as he felt the sensation of transformation travel through him - lightning sharp and aching into his phantom bones. Panic set in a second later. He couldn’t transform up here - there wasn’t enough oxygen for his human form to breathe. He’d pass out and fall to his death.

He gasped and threw his arms out, instinctively trying to grab something even though he was on the edge of the atmosphere, as the transformation arced through his arms and legs. He kept his eyes closed as he fumbled for his ghost side. He needed to transform back fast. His human side would already be aching to breathe, desperate for oxygen after the last hour of being in ghost form.

But his ghost side… was…

Danny opened his eyes as he realized he wasn’t falling. As he realized his ghost form wasn’t something to grab for, because he was still a ghost.

“But…” he whispered, startled and confused. He’d felt himself transform. There was no mistaking the sensation that had swept through him. He looked around, almost as if the answer would be written in the air next to him.

Then the stars caught his gaze. He froze, mouth falling open, as he stared up at the sky. There were more stars than before, the whole sky alight with points of light. And he knew them - with each star he focused his eyes on, he knew what that star was. How far away it was, what it’s name was, what kind of star it was…

Delight sparkled inside him as he let his gaze drift across the heavens. Stars he didn’t even know existed seemed to soak into his skin, whispering all their secrets in his ears. “How…?” he breathed, twisting around and around and looking everywhere he could. “Why?”

His gaze snagged on the moon, crescent-shaped and gleaming. He almost felt like he was drowning in it’s glow, feeling everything about it. The ice hiding in its craters. The human-built machinery peppering its surface. The soft warmth still coiling in its dying core. He could just… go there. He could be there in about three seconds. He could just…

He threw up a hand, blocking the moon’s glow, blinking hard and pushing the thoughts out of his mind. “Holy shit,” he whispered, breathing hard, focusing on Earth, on human thoughts, on normalcy. “What is this?”

Then he saw his hand, thin fingers topped with sharp claws, glove missing. His forehead furrowed as he realized both his gloves were gone, as was the logo on his chest, and the white belt around his waist. A black shirt and black pants. His boots looked like his normal shoes, just moon-lit white. Actually, minus the claws and some color changes, he looked… like he had yesterday. “Uh… What is going on with me?”

He could feel the pull of the stars overhead. He knew he could just lean back, put his arms behind his head, and float there, watching the sky forever. Just revel in space for all time. Instead, he kept his gaze down towards the tops of the clouds.

At least the first step of what he should do now was clear. Whenever he was dealing with anything out of the ordinary, Sam and Tucker knew what to say. They’d help. He’d go home, grab his phone, and call them.

Danny flew towards Amity Park-

-and suddenly drew to a stop. He twisted around, eyes wide, realizing that he’d somehow overshot his home by a dozen miles or more. “What the fuck?” he said. He’d only been flying for a moment - how was he all the way over here? “I…”

He licked his lips and tried again. He set his gaze on Amity Park and flew-

-right past Amity Park again. It was an eyeblink of time between one side of the city and the other. Danny hung in the air, confused and slightly annoyed. “What is going on?” he said. A new power, obviously - but one that had unfortunate timing. His fingers curled, the claws digging uncomfortably into his palms. “This is what I get for leaving my phone behind,” he groused. The phone wouldn’t have done well in the thin, cold atmosphere. Even if he’d have brought it with, there was no guarantee it would have still been working.

“Are all my powers wonky?” Danny asked, raising his hand and pushing energy into his hand. Instead of a steady, gas-like glow, the energy sparkled and hissed, like he was holding onto an exploding firework. “Odd.”

His powers were working differently, so it was time to try using them differently. Time to change tactics. Instead of focusing on a direction, Danny focused his mind on a destination. He closed his eyes, picturing where exactly he wanted to end up. Opening his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tried to fly as slowly as possible.

The world seemed to blur and twist, glowing uncomfortably bright for the fraction of a second Danny allowed himself to be in motion. When the world settled back into place, Danny found himself hovering about ten feet off the ground, within the city of Amiry Park, only about a half-mile from his house. “That worked a lot better,” he said, rather pleased with himself.

Instead of chancing another attempt at flying, Danny figured he’d turn himself human. A ten foot drop wouldn’t be too bad, and he could walk home. It would be the least-tricky way to get home. He took a moment to worry that this new power would prevent him from turning human as easily as normal, but then slammed that idea shut and closed his eyes.

Danny pushed his ghost form away, pulling at that warm and heavy feeling in his mind. There was a sparkling sensation in his mind, then the sharp pain that came with turning himself human again. He dropped, landing lightly on his toes, breathing a heavy sigh of relief that at least this was still normal. He bounced a few times, testing out a few basic powers - invisibility seemed to work like normal, as did phasing through things. He didn’t try floating, for fear of accidentally ending up two towns over and two hundred feet above the ground in human form.

He walked home, rubbing his chest at that strange, too-full sensation, and snuck in the back door. Despite the fact that all the lights were out, he kept himself invisible to avoid his parents. It was so far past curfew that Danny didn’t even want to think about the trouble he’d be in if they realized he was still out.

His bedroom door was still locked. Danny phased through it, flipped on the lights, and dumped himself into his bed. “Ugh,” he groaned, feeling the drain of the last two days on his body. He glanced over at the clock. Just before two in the morning. Part of him wanted to just curl up in his bed and fall asleep, try to get a few hours of sleep before tackling school tomorrow. But too much of him had a tight ball of anxious curiosity.

He groaned as he rolled out of bed and stepped in front of his mirror. He looked awful. Dark rings under his eyes and a horrible, pale tone to his skin. He looked half dead. “On the positive side, nobody will question it if I want to stay home sick tomorrow,” he muttered. He shuddered and shifted his weight, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then triggered the transformation.

His ghost form spread like lightning across his skin, slammed through his head, and settled into his chest like a cold ball of fire. He squeaked one eye open just a touch, not sure of what he was going to see.

Phantom was peering back at him. Danny relaxed, letting his eyes open, and studied himself. From more than a few feet away, he looked absolutely normal. But up close, there were minor changes from the last few days. Teeth that were too pointy. Fingers that were a little more claw-like than normal. Hair that was more… smokey. Just a little. His mouth twisted, unsure of how he felt about the changes. “At least there’s no cape,” he murmured. “I’d look too much like Vlad with a cape.”

He squared his shoulders, set his teeth, and tried flying. He floated up and moved around his bedroom like normal. “So normal.” He caught sight of his claws and shivered. “Mostly.”

“Now…” He took a deep breath and jabbed hard at the over-full feeling in his chest. He was half-hoping nothing would happen. But light sparkled along his body, that tingling almost-painful sensation changing him in very subtle ways. His clothes changed from a jumpsuit to shirt and pants, his shoes looked like they would squeak on the floor as he walked. He was still glowing and transparent. “I’m… a different ghost?” He spread out his arms, feet firmly on the floor afraid to hover. “And I have like… superspeed.”

He took a very careful step forwards, peering closely at himself in the mirror. His eyes looked the same, with the normal green glow. His teeth were sharper, canines almost like little fangs. And… he leaned in, studying his freckles. They glowed, star-like, forming constellations across his skin.

His mind veered off tangent, remembering the stars overhead, the glittering facts that swirled through his mind, the odd bubbling joy that came with even thinking about space. The freckles on his cheeks rearranged themselves into the constellation Draco, and sparks and speckles swirled into life across his clothes. A supernova that resolved itself into the stars overhead. Danny could trace the stars in his clothes, knew everything about each star. He was caught by the strongest urge to fly there. To zip through space to Alrakis, a binary star system eighty-eight light years away. It would only take him 221 years, 5 months, and 3 days…

Danny jerked himself out of his thoughts. He couldn’t fly for over two hundred years. He shuddered and blinked, settling back on his heels. The glowing freckles on his face settled down, his clothes faded back to black. The familiar sort of pitch-black of space. The sort of black Danny imagined the universe looked like before stars existed. “I have space powers now,” Danny realized, his voice slow and excited. “I have space powers! I’m a space ghost!”

Curious, Danny poked at that over-full feeling in his chest again. The world tingled and flashed, and he was back to his old self. Phantom, with the logo and the better posture and the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. “I’m two ghosts, somehow? Two ghosts… and a human...” Danny stared at himself in the mirror. “Or...” he rested his hand on his chest, feeling that strange overly-full feeling. “Or something…?”

Danny shook his head, not sure where to even begin processing that one. Then he turned himself human again, watching the world get dark as the ghost energy faded away. He scratched at his scalp, trundled over to his bed, and dropped into its softness.

There wasn’t much he knew right then. The first was that space powers were the coolest power he could have gotten. And the second was that all this would be easier to process after a few hours of sleep and a large cup of caffeine.

#danny phantom #twin cores #space core AU #this was fun to write #thanks for the idea :)

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zillyeh · 3 years ago

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Sparks

“Dammit!”

The spark the troll had been trying to throw at the bottles about two feet away from her had backfired. Rubber banded as if she had let go in just the right way to smack herself in the face. Again.

“You’re not going to get any better by shouting naughty words at trash, Zee.” Mused the tall, lanky highblood, watching with a grin from the other troll’s open back door.

“How about I start shouting them at you, huh?” Zee shot, rubbing her forehead. Her fingers didn’t stain this time, which was good, but she could tell there was going to be a mark. Maybe this wasn't useless! She'd build up enough forehead strength to headbutt all her problems!

Ugh.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use your psiions like that anyway.” The purple said with a shrug. “Just because you can make them spark doesn’t mean you-”

“They’re not useful if I can’t defend myself, Dara.” Zee’s exasperation was palpable even through the bandaging around her face. “Besides, I thought you said you’d help me.”

“Easy goosie, I’m seeing what we’re working with. It would have been easier if they-”

“Came up earlier, yeah, yeah, I know. I-”

“Hey look, I’m interrupting you now! Geez you’re chatty tonight.” A soft, hollow womph sounded by the door, then behind Zee. Dara’s long fingers found themselves on her shoulders. For once she didn’t flinch, but the cooler air around the two of them brought an involuntary shiver.

“Ugh.”

“Get used to it. If you’re slinging lightning around, I’m voomphing more.”

“Is that what we’re going with now, En?”

“Yes, shut up. Now focus. Where do you feel your powers coming from?”

Zee closed her eyes, sighing through her loose bandaging. It was warm enough in the swamps, especially this season, for her not to want to wear them. Still though, her mouth was… ugly enough that she didn't want her companion to have to look at it. No matter how many times she'd seen what she'd done to it.

"My wrists?" She guessed finally, brow furrowed. "No, wait." She stood up a little straighter, rolling her arms back.

"Shoulders. Mid back. Around there."

Endara hummed, tapping her fingers against her back thoughtfully.

"Fix your posture. More than that. Good. Focus on where my hands are."

It was hard to focus on much else when she was this close. Even through the light fabric of her hoodie she could feel her determination, her patience. Surprisingly not her irritation, though. Zee of course also felt the thrum of her cool pulse through her palm, going at a much steadier pace than her own. She wondered if Endara could feel that.

"Zee. Quit poking around."

"Sorry." Zee said. pulling her hood down a bit to hide the blush visible over her face wraps. "Right, focus."

Zee drew herself up, pulling once again at her own strength. This time she could actually feel it. The energy in the center of her upper back. It did not want to be tapped into like this, but that was simply too bad.

Zee pulled that energy, stretching it like a tight muscle in her arms. All the way down to her fingers, pointed like a pistol at the bottles on the fence. Sweat beaded her brow from the effort, and the heat. There was more power in her hands than ever before. She was almost reluctant to release it.

"Don't hold it too long, dummy." Endara chided. "You'll explode or something."

Zee huffed, and let go. This time the blast was much bigger, sending the two of them flying when the energy recoiled back. They landed with a loud thud and a louder crack mere feet from the smaller troll’s back door.

"Shit, shit Endara are you okay?" Zee panicked, scrambling off of her. That movement nearly dropped her to the ground. Zee wasn't injured, but whatever she'd just done had drained her nearly dry.

"I'm fine." Endara groaned, sitting up. "Your big dumb horn cracked me in the jaw but I'll- holy shit."

Endara shoved Zee's head around by the horn, forcing her to look at the mess she'd made.

The top fence rung was cracked almost entirely in half, her bottles nowhere to be seen.

"Woah." Zee said before everything went dark.

Oh no you don't.

The fingers of Endara's consciousness pulled at Zee’s, forcing her eyes back open. The two were still outside, mere seconds after her brief slip into the darkness. Only now there was an enraged honking coming from inside the house.

“Put me back under.”

"I'm not dealing with her."

"I'm dead." Zee said, unable to move her arms. "I can't feel my fingers or uhh. Anything else."

“Then you’re going to get the shit beat out of you by a goose.” Endara shrugged, standing to her full height. She was well over six feet tall before her eyes had even filled in. Now that they were mostly purple she had a hard time getting through Zee’s hive.

Zee would be lucky if she even brushed six foot at this rate.

“Dara, come on. Voomph me upstairs or some shit.”

“Why miss Gozjam, you of all people want to be voomphed? After last time?” She dramatically whipped her long braid over her shoulder, a smug grin on her face.

“I’m gonna beat your ass, Dara.” Zee groaned, trying to find some strength in her body to move. It didn’t come. Marija was close enough that her silly but threatening little footslaps could be heard rapidly plapping down the stairs.

“You and what arms?” Endara teased. Still, she hauled the smaller anon up with some effort, her limbs loosely dangling over her shoulder when she did so. Endara watched the door until the furious little beast burst out of it, voomphing to the other side of it as she made a beeline for them.

On the other side of the back door, Endara kicked it shut before teleporting the two of them to the couch.

Zee gagged when Endara flopped her onto the cushions, little purple flecks at the outside of her vision.

"Uuuuugh." She groaned dramatically, attempting to move again. Her fingers twitched, but her efforts were mostly unsuccessful.

"Whiner." Endara kicked one of Zee's limp legs up onto the couch. "If you can't move anymore I'm gonna have to do that a lot."

"I'd rather you throw me face down in the mud." Zee said with a grimace. "Why is this so hard?"

Endara sighed and leaned against the arm of the well abused grey couch.

"It's not what you were built for. You know that."

"I don't care. I'm almost out of time to figure out what I'm gonna do when the empire comes knocking. Or, y'know. If someone else sees me."

"Look-" Endara shifted her friend so she could actually sit, placing her head in her lap. Zee felt her throat go dry looking up at her. "Your eyes still haven't even filled in yet. That might be good for you."

Zee's expression remained sour. She was just into her ninth sweep. It was frankly embarrassing that her eyes were still nearly black. Less dangerous for her, but still. Another addition to the list of things that made her wrong.

"They started, so it's really only a matter of time. Plus, fleet shit, uh… m-m- other... drones... could come around." Endara and Zee both flushed at the inevitable drones she was talking about. When Endara pushed some of Zee's hair out of her face, she felt a few conflicting emotions coming from her.

"I know." Endara sighed after a few moments. "But-"

"But shit, Dara. We both die if I'm found, you know that. I'm not strong enough to protect either of us, and all your skinny ass can do is haunt people's dreams and voomph- what seven, eight feet? We're both dead bitches."

"What about my lusus?" Endara offered, though she sounded unsure of herself. She felt even more unsure, and… sad. Zee wasn't incensed enough not to feel bad for her, but too much to be gentle.

"When was the last time we saw her? Counting on her to give a shit is about as reliable as chucking rocks at a drone."

"Wrong, a drone is guaranteed to kill you. Very reliable." Endara sighed. This conversation wasn't new. She sounded tired of it. Zee certainly was.

Endara bit her lip and tucked a stray hair behind one of her short, angular horns. Sensing weakness, Zee sat up as much as she could.

"Dara… Is that Carnival coming around any time soon?"

"Zee I can train-"

"What's the guarantee I don't just blow us both up? Or lose my arms? We don't know what we're doing. You saw that ringleader. He definitely knows what he's doing." There was a light in her dark grey eyes that Endara didn’t trust.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Please, Dara, can we just think about it? I can’t go without you.” Endara rolled her eyes at her friend’s pleading.

“Can’t? For why? No one cares as long as you have paint on. Especially the traveling ones.”

Zee bit her lip under her wraps, glancing to the back door that was being abused by her lusus from the other side.

“I’m… scared to go alone.” She said finally, bracing her forehead against her shoulder. Endara looked at the anon for a good few seconds. Of course she was scared, why wouldn’t she be? Being around any clowns, especially with her conditions, would be more than dangerous. It would be stupid. Stupid for the both of them as well, but at least Endara could play the part. Take some of the heat off her.

E touched the tender part of her own jaw, wincing at the sting of the rapidly developing bruise. She was too fragile to keep doing this.

“Someone’s gonna find her, Dara.” Zee continued in a whisper. Endara shivered, not wanting to think of the “her” they buried not long ago and too close to home. “Then me, then you…” She mentioned herself quickly, as if whatever terrible things could happen to her were negligible to what would happen to Endara. The worst that could happen to Zee was death. The worst that could happen to Endara… Was the Carnival proper.

Endara sighed, removing the hood from her friend’s horns and head, brushing her hair behind her ears. Color rushed to her cheeks, but her eyes remained fixed on Endara.

“I’ll chaperone your carnival trip, goosie. We’re dead women one way or another, right?” Zee opened her mouth to speak, but Endara stopped her. “On one condition.”

“Oh boy. Yeah?”

“I get to do your paint.”

#Zilly drabbles #idk titles <3 #Zippie tag #E tag #Zipper Anthem #i jsut write and dont post it but i am thinking about this one. sighs. baby zippie #Dreamwalker

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amazonianbeauties · 4 years ago

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She-Bulk No More

It was only a matter of time, fellow schmoes.

In “Avengers” (2018) #750, we see She-Hulk absorb large amounts of gamma radiation. The result gives us a She-Hulk with massive muscles and bulging veins, looking like she’s about ready to explode. And she does...

When the smoke clears, we’re greeted with the sassy, sensational She-Hulk of old!

And comic fans collectively cheer as the lean, green, sass machine makes her much-awaited return. While schmoes... Well, we’re left a little disappointed.

Ever since Brian Michael Bendis’s “Civil War 2″ (2016), Marvel’s treated us to a bigger and bulkier She-Hulk with a meaner and tougher personality. She-Hulk is put in a coma by Thanos. When she wakes up, she seems... different.

Hubba hubba.

Maybe not the reaction that Bendis and Marvel wanted, but a She-Hulk with full lips, long hair, and beefy Death by Snu-Snu arms is going to awaken something in a man of culture like me.

We saw more of this She-Hulk in writer Mariko Tamaki’s “Hulk” run, a series that followed a traumatized Jennifer Walters struggling with her savage persona. Some artists did a decent job at drawing her sinewy new look, while others...

Yeesh.

But then, towards the end of Tamaki’s run, we got the sensational She-Hulk back for a bit.

Then “Avengers” (2018) happened. Creative team Jason Aaron and Ed McGuinness were attached, and fans were given a taste of what to expect with the release of a new cover. On it, you had Thor, Captain Marvel, Black Panther, Ghost Rider, Doctor Strange, Iron Man, Captain America, and She--

HOLY HANNAH!

If you thought She-Hulk was big before, this one ate the last She-Hulk and made a run for it with her gains. But what happened? Wasn’t She-Hulk back to normal now?

A theory of mine is that Jason Aaron wasn’t aware that Mariko Tamaki was going to change She-Hulk back to normal. Notice how McGuinness drew She-Hulk on the cover of “Avengers” #2.

There’s no scars, but this basically grey She-Hulk. Even down to the eyes, although some artists were inconsistent with those.

Either way, the explanation for Shulkie’s beefier form was that she came into contact with a dying celestial, who gave her a cosmic power-up in order to fight The Final Host.

The reception was mixed, to say the least. Not just because of the big muscles, but because She-Hulk became more of a lumbering oaf like her cousin, Bruce Banner’s Hulk. At least in the Tamaki run, Shulkie still had her wits about her.

Somewhat.

If anything, Jen was just angrier and more terse with people. Sometimes that anger made her take things too far.

Aaron didn’t help matters when he wrote “Avengers” #20, a passive-aggressive issue in which She-Hulk battled “trolls” while wrestling with the criticisms thrown her way about her new looks. We even get this infamous panel.

Ugh...

Anyway, of all the artists who did the best job portraying beefier She-Hulk, my favorite would have to be Ed McGuinness.

McGuinness is known for his musclebound superheroes, especially his renderings of the Hulk. He admits that, while editorial wanted her huge, he tried to maintain her femininity to make drawing her somewhat enjoyable (which may also explain the Big Barda inspired costume). I’d say the result speaks for itself.

Unfortunately, Ed appeared less frequently on the title. He’d drop in every once in awhile with amazing artwork, but She-Hulk was nowhere to be found half the time.

She would show up in other series, though, like “The Immortal Hulk” (2018) . While her first appearance there was SERIOUSLY rough, Joe Bennet eventually got the hang of it and did some beautiful drawings of her, including this now iconic cover of “The Immortal She-Hulk” (2020).

It’s safe to say her return to form is because of the upcoming Disney Plus She-Hulk show, which is coming out sometime in 2022. There was no way the MCU was going to have She-Hulk show up on-screen looking like a beefcake. Although, there could always be the possibility of us seeing a savage She-Hulk in the future. Who knows?

At any rate, while her dim-witted personality wasn’t the best, it was nice to see a new side of She-Hulk. To think a schmoe like me lived in a time where I could crack open a comic book and see a beautiful, long-haired, fortress of a woman with bulging biceps, rippling abs, meaty traps...

Excuse me. I’ve got some light reading to do.

#she-hulk #marvel #girlswithmuscle #comics #mcu #disney

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windowsandfeelings · 3 years ago

Note

nancy/ace! And literati, for a throwback, haha.

omg, my 2 favorite subjects

OK, so Nancy/Ace

1. What made you ship it?

They're just so...well-matched. I remember thinking I was imagining things in season 1 because it did not seem like the show was actively trying to do any of the stuff that I was seeing, but the chemistry was so immediately there, and the complete invasion of personal space was so immediately there, and even in the pilot you have Nancy refusing to let anyone in emotionally while also saying that she told Ace all of her deep dark traumas over the summer (*ahem*). I think I first realized it was something I was into around their visit to the library (maybe a little before that?), or when he drank poison for her(!!!), and I was fully on board when he was the only one who knew the truth about Lucy and his first instinct was to protect that secret until she was ready to share it. The way he dives into doing the ritual in 1x17 when everyone else is asking questions just makes my heart feel like it's going to explode, I love it so much.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

INVASION. OF. PERSONAL. SPACE.

The fact that they both have an inferiority complex and it's so so absurd (Ace is worried he doesn't speak enough languages for her! he speaks 3 languages but that's not enough!! Nancy is an emotional disaster and should really be in so much therapy!!!!! Ace probably should, too!!!)

Excellent gazing.

There's a moment in 2x07 where Nancy realizes Ace and Amanda are flirting and she does these little jealous eyes and it was the first time I thought there was anything intentional going on and it's the best. (related: the way Nancy says "She's competent" in 2x13)

Any and all moments we see text messages between them they are top notch. (MEAT HOOKS!!!)

They both love Horseshoe Bay so much and it informs everything about them.

I can't even talk about the lust curse.

Or the fact that Nancy thinks he has pretty eyes.

OR THE HUG AFTER SHE AND GRANT SAVE HIM.

They. have. a. private. server.

Season 4 is going to be sooooo angsty and I am here for it.

Did I mention the invasion of personal space?

Anyway, there's just so much mutual respect and trust and even when they're mad at each other or not communicating well or dating other people or anything they still care deeply about each other.

Everyone else knew they were in love before they did.

HANDS.

UGH I COULD GO ON FOREVER.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I do not get why the fandom is so invested in Ace calling her "Nance" when the specific way that he says "Nancy" is the hottest thing in the fucking world.

AND MY BELOVED LITERATI

1. What made you ship it?

I honestly barely remember because it's been literally twenty years, but I do know that I went into season 2 very invested in Rory and Dean (and very alone in that, the fandom was intensely Trory in a way that is hilarious to me now), and I hated Jess for a long time because I didn't want anything to get in the way of that (hahahahaha). But he won me over somewhere in season 2, because I do remember reading the spoilers for "I Can't Get Started" and seeing that they were going to kiss and losing my shit in a way that only a 14 year old can (lies, I lost my shit so hard during the Nancy Drew finale that I spilled half a diet coke on my couch and now there is a giant stain on the fold-out mattress). Like running around the house and screaming about it.

And then the night before "Let the Games Begin" aired (it might have been "They Shoot Gilmores...") I got grounded and got my tv privileges taken away and I wrote my parents a letter explaining why it was extremely important that I be allowed to watch and they actually let me.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Well, let's talk about mutual respect again. Let's talk about chemistry again.

Book nerds in love.

It's a cliche to say 22.8 miles/you looked it up, but 22.8 miles!/you looked it up! (True story: there is a picture of me on Buzzfeed holding a sign that says 22.8 miles/you looked it up, because they went to the same Luke's pop up that I did before AYITL and asked people in line what their favorite Gilmore Girls moments were.)

They pushed each other and expected more from each other. I think the ways that Jess nudged Rory back to herself in season 6 and AYITL get more attention, but Rory was also so important to getting Jess to a place where he could be that person for her. (Anyway, see chapter 4 of MYatRT this weekend for more of my thoughts on this. It's a ~theme~)

Separate from the actual, on-screen ship: Rory and Jess were what drove me to stars-hollow.org in 2004 (right after "Nag Hammadi..." aired), and that message board, and specifically the Lit thread, gave me some of my dearest friends in the world, people who are still in my life every single day, people I've vacationed with, people I love deeply. I would love them for that if for no other reason.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

IDK, the discourse around GG has changed so much over the years (I have to stop looking at the subreddit. It makes me feel 1000 years old), and at no point have I agreed with all of it, but no specific examples spring to mind. I'm not as much of a Dean hater as many (probably has something to do with my answer to 1), which is not necessarily a ship opinion considering Dean is not a part of the ship, but does seem related to them anyway.

OH! I do think it's funny the way people use the ship name now! People call Rory and Jess Literati, but we used to call ourselves Literati (or really, Literatis, even though Literati is already plural. But really, we mostly used Lit/Lits). Like, we were the stars-hollow.org Lits. Lits wrote Literati fic, but I don't think we would say we wrote fic about Literati. Does that make sense? IDK I think it's a subtle difference, but it's there.

#nancy drew #nancy x ace #gilmore girls #literati #I remember going off to French camp between seasons 2 and 3 and when I came home every fic on ffn had the word Lit in the summary #I was so confused #took me forever to figure out we had a new ship name #god the glory days of ship names before they were all portmanteaus

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yourlocallovesickie · 4 years ago

Note

dk if you still take requests for the beatles so apologies in advance but could you write something about maybe george coming down with a bug or something and being all bloated and achy and the others are trying to take care of him (could be poly or platonic, don't really mind)? if you want to of course 👉👈

Sorry this took a while, I went a bit overboard haha. Love me some sick George. Anyways, enjoy!

George had always tried not to be the weakest link in the group, especially because he was already younger than the others. But occasionally he would push off his own well-being to not be seen as the baby, especially on tour. The low hours of sleep followed by exhausting concert to exhausting concert and the tedious travel between them, afterparties, normal parties, interview, etc, etc . .

Needless to say they were all drained, so of course George paid no mind when he woke up from his 3 hours of sleep feeling tired and achy, his mind clouded and pounding, and stomach swirling. He'd often get stomach aches from stress and anxiety, so he popped a tylenol of five and headed to breakfast.

The others were all gathered around the small hotel table sluggishly eating their breakfast and sipping their coffee. Even Paul looked tired, and that man could wake up every morning at 5 am sharp with a smile on his face. Ringo and the aformentioned morningbird waved at George when he entered, John face down next to a half-empty box of cornflakes, which Ringo passed over to him as he sat down. The idea of eating food made his stomach gurgle angrily, and a sense of nausea began creeping up on him. He must just be hungry. He forced down a few bites of cereal before pushing it away, the others too occupied with keeping their eyes open to notice his lack of appetite, or how he lagged even farther behind the others as they prepared for the day's events.It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way to their first soundcheck/rehearsal, the other three keeping up a quiet conversation as George leaned against the cool window, arms crossed over his stomach and eyes closed, willing the nausea away that they noticed anything.

“‘Ey George, I know you’re the quiet Beatle but you’re allowed to talk y’know,” John quipped. Responding seemed like too much work, so George sat still.

“Is he asleep?” Paul muttered, tapping the younger man lightly. With a groan and an uncomfortable burble from his stomach, George swatted Paul’s hand away, recieving cheers from the others.

“There he is! Up ‘n at ‘em Georgie boy!” There was a playful thwak at his side that only made him groan again, curling over on himself.

“We know you’re tired, but let’s all at least suffer together shall we?” John and Paul shared a laugh, and George could feel a warm hand press up against his cheek, cold metal rings making him pull away slightly as they made contact. the hand hovered by his cheek for a moment, George leaning into it before the hand retreated up to his forehead. The laughter from the other two died down, and George could see their lightly concerned stares on him even with his eyes closed. The hand retreated once more, brushing his bangs to the side.

“You feeling alright, Georgie?” Even opening his eyes to look up at the other seemed too much of a challenge. He shook his head and could immediately hear the others scoot up to get a look at him. He feels two other hands pressed against his cheeks and forehead, one playfully ruffling his hair as the other three Beatles mumble words his fevered brain couldn’t put together.

“I think we should go back to the hotel, he feels pretty warm,” Paul fretted, pressing his hand against the back of George’s neck again to be sure.

“Brain’ll kill us if we cancel this close to performance.”

“Better we cancel now than right before the show when he passes out.” With a nod of agreement the three stayed close to George throughout the remainder of the car ride, the sick man nodding off against the window until he was rudely awakened by a sudden knot in his stomach. As his muddled mind struggled to wake up more he realized how nauseous and bloated he felt; like getting seasick right after dinner. The movement of the car only made him feel worse, and soon enough he had slurred something along the lines of “pull over” before throwing open the door and learning out just in time for a round of the cornflakes he’d choked down earlier to reappear, splattering onto the side of the road. His stomach twisted in agony, and even after a few more very productive, milky burps and retches a cloud of nausea continued to hang over him. At some point someone had started rubing his back, probably Paul; he could feel his delicate fingers slowly tracing patterns down his spine.

“As rounds 2, 3, and 4 made their appearance and Paul helped keep George upright and inside the car, and Jon was turned away from them both for fear he may add his own breakfast to the concoction, Ringo turned to the driver and order they be taken back to the hotel. They were a little over halfway to the studio but they figured the less movement for George the better. After they were sure he was finished for the time being they started the journey back, every turn and bump in the road eliciting a small noise of discomfort as his stomach cramped and roiled. Every time he blinked it took more and more effort to open his eyes again until finally he opened them see to see the hotel they were staying at and a surprisingly few amount of fans crowding outside, theiri screams getting increasingly louder as the car pulled up. George doesn’t think he’d ever been so relieved to see an American hotel.

Getting into the hotel posed a slight challenge, though. The second he stood up he was bent in half as another albeit smaller wave of vomit splashed up onto the sidewalk. He would have fallen into it had Paul not grabbed him once more, the others trying to sheild from fans and swarming paparazzi without being hit. The world seemed to spin and the crowd’s screams were so loud he felt like his head might explode. He closed his eyes to try and shut out the screaming and the flashing lights and the pain that they brought, and when he opened them again they were inside, half-walking half-dragging George up to their shared suite. He could still hear the screams, but they were so muffled he wasn’t sure whether they were still coming from outside or in his own head. His stomach cramped and gurgled, and George slouched over, both arms wrapped across it protectively.

"You alright there, Georgie?" John asked, and though there was no condescending note to his tone George still found himself huffing at the pity. 'I'm being childish', he thought, and with an arm still guarding his stomach he stood straight and walked slightly ahead of the others, dragging them back to their room before delicately hanging up his coat, toeing off his shoes, and slamming the bathroom door with a quick retch.

"Should I go check on him?" Paul asked, already gripping the doorknob and letting himself in. The sight nearly broke his heart. His band mate, best friend, and basically younger brother was curled over the side of the toilet, his back sweat-soaked and heaving as he gagged and struggled. There was a small puddle of bile by his feet and a spot or two on his shirt where he hadn't made it, and Paul immediately grabbed the towel by the sink and set it over the puddle, resting a comforting hand on George's back. A few minutes passed of the younger Beatle gasping and choking up his partially digested breakfast before John and Ringo joined them, and eventually they all led George out to a spot on the couch with a bowl at his feet and blankets surrounding him. Ringo slipped a thermometer in his mouth, just barely dodging the bout of sick that bubbled up with the gag the thermometer drew out.

"Ugh.. Sorry," he groaned, one hand wrapped over his stomach which twisted and contorted inside him, desperately trying to get whatever was inside him out. The other was supporting his weight, shakily braced on the arm of the couch as John held the bowl under his dripping chin. Ringo slipped the thermometer back under his tongue.

"You're alright," he responded, and George groaned as the vile was removed. "That's a fever."

"Dammit."

"Looks like no concert tonight, then," Paul said, receiving a cheer from John.

"Thank god! Finally a break. Thank you, George." The younger man sank down in his seat, and the others shook their heads. "What? I'm grateful!" With a sigh, Paul sank down beside him.

"What John means is no one is upset with you, Georgie. This happens, and really I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did." George nodded, and still curled in his little ball leaned into Paul, the others joining in as well. His stomach hurt, his entire body ached, but maybe with the others by his side this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #sickfic #stomach ache #emetophilia #vomiting #emeto

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bookshelf-in-progress · 4 years ago

Text

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed. “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn’t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs. But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

#arateph #fairy tale retelling #sci-fi

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

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Play

This is just a scene that @onereyofstarlight sparked. Actually totally her idea, I just gave it words. She thought Scott might have a hobby, so we gave him one :D So yeah, all for the wonderful @onereyofstarlight cos she is wonderful :D

Doesn’t really go anywhere, loosely related to V.T. Green. Mostly fluff.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil was up later than usual this morning. Possibly because he went to bed later than usual. He really needed to not look at his blog before bed. The argument had been dangling like a carrot and he couldn’t help himself.

Next time he would leave the idiots for Brains and let the genius decimate them with math. He was a weapon to be wielded as needed, but Virgil liked to fight his own engineering wars and keep him for the big ones.

This one was big enough.

Consequently, he stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen at least an hour later than usual and in need of at least a gallon of coffee before he would be willing to engage with anything or anybody.

So it was both wonderful and annoying to find the kitchen full of brothers.

An internal sigh, just waiting for the comments.

“You’re kidding.” Alan sounded shocked more than anything else.

John was hovering over the table and cocked an eyebrow at his youngest brother. “He flies the fastest plane on the planet, Alan.”

“Yeeeaah, but this is different.”

“How?”

Alan muttered something, but Virgil was far more interested in the coffee machine across the room.

“Afternoon, Virg!” Gordon, as usual was far too many decibels higher than the zero Virgil preferred.

Virgil wasn’t rude, however. A grunt sufficed.

If a glare was involved, it was truly in the effort of saving his younger brother’s life.

Gordon, of course, only grinned wider and shoved his sandwich in his mouth as he wandered past.

Virgil ignored him.

Extensively.

“But you’re a genius!” The exasperation in Alan’s voice drew Virgil’s attention back to the kitchen table. Scott had his head down and what appeared to be a stylus sticking out over his right ear.

“Labels, Alan. Everyone needs someone to check their work.”

“Ask Eos!”

“Why? Scott has always been my beta.”

Oh, so that’s what Scott was doing. Virgil went back to staring at the coffee machine and for the umpteenth time ran the designs through his head that could help develop a machine that could beam in coffee abracadabra so he didn’t have to wait.

“You’ve missed a variable.” Scott’s voice was thoughtful.

“A whole variable?!”

“You doubled it here, but you missed it in the final equation.”

A glance at the table again and Virgil raised an eyebrow. John looked fit to explode.

“Goddamnit, how the hell did I miss that?”

“Easy done.” Scott pulled the stylus out of his hair and started scribbling on the table.

Oh, so we are at table level already. Virgil tried to remember if Alan had ever seen Scott play with math. A slow blink and honestly, he couldn’t recall.

The coffee machine chimed and his attention was drawn back to the warmth awaiting him. He wrapped both hands around the mug and focussed on rebooting his brain.

It was wonderful.

“But how?!” Alan’s voice was incredulity itself.

As expected, Scott continued scribbling and ignored Alan completely.

Virgil had to smirk. Table level was really something to see.

Wall level…well, there was a reason why they used certain kinds of teflon paint throughout the villa and especially in Scott’s office. Not that his brother had had the chance to really play with math since Dad…

Ugh. Virgil needed more coffee.

At least that explained why Alan was so gobsmacked.

But still, it wasn’t as if John had stopped programming.

But then, Alan did tend to be clueless on some fronts.

Eh. Another cup of coffee coming up.

“I can’t believe it. Scott, that is perfect…wait, why that coefficient?” John sounded almost eager.

“You can’t have that result and expect that equation to solve to match that number without that coefficient. That is why you needed the variable.”

Virgil watched over his coffee cup as John frowned down at the table.

Alan appeared to be watching a tennis match between them.

“You’re right.” It was a sigh from John and his brother wilted.

Scott smiled up at him and went back to scribbling on the table.

“Now what are you doing?” Alan peered at the table.

“I like the pattern.”

John snorted.

“What pattern?” Alan sounded genuinely curious.

Virgil wandered over to the table and peered down at the numbers his brother was scribbling down.

Virgil was good with math. He used it like any other tool to get the results he needed. He was an engineer; he could speak numbers.

John wrote in numbers, he created in numbers and thoroughly enjoyed it, but again, math to John was as much a tool as it was to Virgil. A means to an end.

To Scott it was something else.

Sure, Scott had the math skills to be an excellent pilot, but his interest lay way beyond that relatively simple application.

Math to Scott was like music to Virgil.

The only reason Alan might not know this was that Scott spent so much of his time doing the necessary rather than the fun.

Watching him let himself play was wonderful.

Virgil stepped up beside Alan

His littlest brother looked up at him, shock still all over his face. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Virgil shrugged and sipped at his coffee. “Nothing to tell.” Scott had always enjoyed maths.

Alan waved at the numbers on the table. “This is amazing.”

Scott was oblivious, of course. Virgil couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t seen Scott go on a math bender in years. Looking up at John, he found a smile similar to his own. Perhaps this was planned, perhaps not. John’s exasperation had appeared real enough.

Their big brother slipped into what looked like multi-dimensional trigonometry. He was skirting the edge of Virgil’s knowledge and no doubt, left to himself, Scott would leave Virgil in the dust.

John could follow, but then Scott’s mathematical creations were more for the enjoyment than any practical purpose, and John had a tendency to get distracted by individual concepts in Scott’s mosaic and run off with those.

Virgil just enjoyed watching Scott enjoy himself.

Hell, right now his classy big brother had his tongue peeking out one side of his mouth as, eyes wide, he scribbled down yet another equation that summarised the previous array of functions.

Truly it was like music.

Alan nudged Virgil, causing ripples in the remains of his coffee, and whispered. “Scott enjoys math?”

Another sip of his coffee. “Yeah, Scott enjoys math.”

And it was beautiful to watch him play.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #nuttyfic

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onhirel · 4 years ago

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A Birthday Spent Apart

Akko jerked awake in the chair to the sound of her phone buzzing insistently on the desk of the hotel room in Tokyo that her agency had put her in, and confusion roiled through her for a moment before she managed to pick up the phone. Peering blearily at the display, she blinked before dread settled in her gut at the sight of Diana’s name at the top of her phone’s screen, accompanied by a picture that Lotte had taken of the two of them, Akko hugging Diana from behind, both of them smiling for the camera.

She didn’t feel like smiling now, not when...

She swiped to answer the video call even as she wiped at her eyes to remove any of the gunk that her unplanned nap might have caused. “Hey, Diana!” she said, trying to sound as bright and cheery as she could, even as she felt terrible. After all, Diana shouldn’t have been the one to call her, she should have been the one to call Diana because...

“Oh! Akko, did I wake you?” Diana sounded surprised, and was that a hint of hurt that Akko detected in her fiancée’s voice?

She wanted to deny it, wanted to say something to reassure Diana that that wasn’t true, but she couldn’t stand the thought of lying to her. “I guess I fell asleep,” she admitted, shame replacing the dread. Of all the days for her to do so!

A short burst of static as Diana sighed, though she was smiling softly. “Akko, it’s okay, I only just got home myself. What time is it for you?”

An olive branch, something Akko could use as a way out, even though she knew that Diana always had the time differences between them memorized whenever Akko was on tour. Still, Akko glanced up at the top of her phone’s screen. “Quarter past two,” she muttered before frowning. “But that’s no excuse! It’s your birthday, I should have stayed awake so I could call you, not the other way around!”

Blue eyes stared pointedly at her through her phone’s display. “Akko, it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Akko insisted. “It’s your birthday!”

“And I already got your text messages, plus the flowers and cake you had delivered to the Manor. Plus I imagine you have plans once you get back in a few weeks.”

Akko bit her lip. “But...”

Now Diana was frowning. “No buts, love. Look, I can see that you’re still wearing your stage makeup and you were already sitting when you answered the phone. You sat up by your desk so that you could stay awake and call me, right?”

Akko paused only for a moment. “You know me too well.”

Diana chuckled softly. “Akko, dearest, I could never know you too well. Even if we live together for centuries to come, I will always want to know something more about you.”

Was Akko blushing? She was pretty sure she was blushing. “Why are you so romantic?” she whined.

That drew out a grin so bright and beautiful it stole her breath away. “Because I love you.”

Akko squirmed slightly in her seat as she tried to cover up her now brilliantly red face with one hand while holding the phone with her other. She would always be awed at how powerful these feelings she had for Diana were. “I love you, too,” she somehow managed to squeak out even as her blush deepened.

A soft, warm hum. “Now, love, I want you to get ready for bed, you shouldn’t be falling asleep in chairs, you aren’t a teenager anymore.”

Akko huffed at that, but she stood up. “Neither are you,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but I actually take care of my body,” Diana teased. “How much sugar did you eat today?”

“That’s for me to know and you to speculate,” Akko shot back before grinning. “And besides, you and I both know that there’s something I’d much rather be eating than sugary food, but unfortunately there’s an eight hour difference there, ne?”

Now it was Diana’s turn to blush. “Akko!” she spluttered.

“What? You know it’s true!”

“I mean...yes, but...oh, you are incorrigible!” she huffed, though the scowl that lacked any real heat didn’t last long. “How was the show?” she asked after a moment. “I wasn’t able to watch the live stream this time.”

Akko shrugged even as she headed into the bathroom. “Oh, you know, the usual. I think we’re really getting it hammered into something good, there weren’t any hiccups this time!”

And so their call continued as Akko got ready for bed, both of them talking about their days. Before long, Akko was snuggled into bed, covers up to her chin, the room dark save for the light from her phone’s screen from where it was propped up on some of the pillows so that they could see each other.

She hated this part of the call. Hated that she could already feel sleep approaching, no matter how much she wanted to stay up and talk with the woman that she loved with all her heart. It was ironic, wasn’t it? That she resented her dream job that she truly loved if only because it meant being away from Diana, especially on important days like today.

“-and there was this little girl in the crowd, that, oh, you should’ve seen how her face lit up when I exploded onto stage,” she was saying, loving how focused and engaged Diana was on her story. She could tell that she was the absolute most important thing in Diana’s world right now. Perhaps that was why her voice faltered, why she was suddenly wiping away tears as Diana’s face grew very suddenly worried.

“Akko, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

She bit back a sob. “I miss you,” she croaked as she curled up in the bed that was painfully empty. It was Diana’s birthday, and she was halfway round the world, unable to touch, to hold, to kiss the love of her life, and she hated it. “And I couldn’t even stay awake to be the one to call you.”

A long moment of silence as she tried very hard not to give in to the tears. Bad enough that she couldn’t call Diana, now she was screwing up the little time they had together by crying like a baby? Ugh, could she be anymore pathetic?!

“Akko? Akko, listen to me.” Diana’s voice was firm, and Akko forced herself to latch onto it, to focus on it. “It’s really okay. I miss you, too, but you’re doing something important. You’re showing the world that magic isn’t to be feared, and the amount of joy and laughter you’re bringing to your audiences is so incredibly amazing. Honestly, if you weren’t putting in enough energy into your performances that you weren’t utterly exhausted by the end of it, I’d be rather disappointed in you.” She paused as Akko wiped at her streaming eyes. “Akko, honestly, the date of my birthday is just a date. The specific day isn’t important. I imagine you have something spectacular planned when you return, and that is what’s important.” Her head cocked slightly to the side, her expression softening. “What I want for my birthday is for you to have given your all during your performance earlier today. Did you get me what I wanted?”

“Yes,” Akko sniffled.

Diana smiled. “Then we’re good. We got to talk to each other, you had a good show earlier, and we’ll see each other in a few weeks. That’s all that we need, because we love each other. Nothing can change that.” She nodded, almost as though to herself as Akko’s tears finally stopped. “Now, it’s almost three in the morning for you and I know you’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Give my love to your parents, and hopefully my schedule will be a tad more open over the next few days so that we can talk when it isn’t dreadfully early in the morning for you.”

Akko gave Diana a watery smile. “That would be nice.”

Diana brought her hand to her face so that she could kiss her fingertips before she touched them to her phone’s camera, darkening Akko’s screen for a moment. “Have a good night, love. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Mmmkay,” Akko murmured, feeling sleep rush in all the quicker now, following her tears. “Oh, but, Diana?”

“Hmm.”

“Happy Birthday.”

A smile that could have outshone the sun itself. “Thank you, Akko. I love you.”

Akko’s eyes were already closed, her breath coming slower and deeper. “I love you, too.”

Yes, it was a birthday spent apart. But that didn’t mean that their hearts weren’t joined together, even with the great distance between them. After all, Diana was right: They loved each other. That was all that they would ever need.

#Little Witch Academia #diakko #dianakko #diana cavendish #akko kagari #happy birthday diana!!!#a bit more solemn than probably necessary #Akko is sad #time zone difference #might put this on AO3 at some point #but for now tumblr exclusive

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 5 years ago

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PLEADING FOR MERCY

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Iroh, Azula, Katara, Aang, Sokka (mentioned), Toph (mentioned)

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part two of “destiny is a funny thing”

A/N: Since I’ve been asked for a next part to my last Zuko fic, here it is. (tho further requests only per inbox please haha)

“(Y/N)?” You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, lightly shaking you awake. “(Y/N)!” A groan passed your lips, feeling every limb ache. “You have to wake up, we need to get out of here!”

The sudden sound of water irritated you, but one second later relief flowed through your body. The pain disappeared. Slowly you blinked your eyes open, seeing a slightly blurred version of your friend. She looked no different than the last time you’d seen her. Her braid was a bit more tousled than usual, but her ocean-blue orbs were like the calm after a storm. “Katara?” You slurred, stumbling slightly when she helped you up, but her healing powers were quick to work. She drew you into a hug, as soon as you’d gained full balance. Immediately the smell of salt and sea overcame your senses. Something you constantly associated with her. “I’m so glad you’re back. We were so worried,” She pulled away slightly, analyzing your face. “What happened?” Her voice was soothing. It felt good. Knowing that they had, indeed, thought about you. “I was-”

The tunnel above you began to rumble. You took a hold of Katara’s hand, spotting one of the earth benders against the bright sunlight. “You’ve got company,” Another one sneered, pushing their next victim down into the Crystal Catacombs. “Gaah!” He screamed as he tumbled downwards, landing on his stomach directly in front of you. It took you a second to recognize it was Lee. “Zuko!” Katara said, surprised, before her face disorted with anger. You calling out “Lee!” at the same time didn’t help the situation. His eyes widened when he saw you, but the shock was gone in a flash. You’d wanted to help him up, but upon stepping closer he turned his back on you, still sitting on the floor. Your smile disappeared. “Don’t get close to him, (Y/N). He’s dangerous,” The water bender murmured, grabbing your upper arm to hold you back.

This wasn’t a happy reunion. Instead it was all a big puddle of confusion.

Katara hadn’t even registered you calling him by the wrong name, too caught up in her rage. “Why did they throw you in here?” She asked, only to answer herself a second later. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. It’s a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help us you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!” He briefly looked over his shoulder, but stayed silent. “Katara, what are you talking about?” You asked, bewildered. “This is him, (Y/N)! This is Prince Zuko, who hunted us down countless times to capture Aang!”

You swallowed dryly. Was this supposed to be some kind of bad joke? His feelings for you. The stories you’d shared. The caring touches when he’d changed your bandages. All a lie?

Of course you hadn’t been truthful yourself, at first. And you didn’t blame him for being precautios. But you’d told him in time, when things got more serious. Didn’t you deserve the same?

Weeks were wasted with a prince, who’d hunted your friends for ages.

Now you blankly stared at the back of his head. His shoulders seemed more slumped than before, but he didn’t deny the accusations that Katara had thrown at him. Your love was lost. Lost to someone who’d probably never been honest with you. Not once. Deep regret formed in the pit of your stomach. You felt sick. Speechless.

“You’re a terrible person, you know that?” Your friend remained unimpressed by his Royal heritage, continuing to yell at him. “Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world’s last hope for peace!” She growled, pacing around like a panther in it’s cage. “But what do you care, Fire Lord’s son? Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!” Katara spat, which eventually gained her the response she was waiting for. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” She whirled around. “I don’t? How dare you? You have no idea what this war has put me through. Me, personally!” She turned and sunk to the floor. “The Fire Nation took my mother away from me,”

You choose to interrupt, standing between both sides uncomfortably. “Maybe we should calm down...” You didn’t know how to explain that you’d spend the past weeks with the enemy. Surrounded by rocks and crystals there wasn’t much room for you to comfort her, but you choose to help her calm down before you’d attempt to talk to... Zuko. It was hard not to think of him as the ‘Lee’ you’d met him as. Wrapping your arms around her, you swayed her softly, trying to soothe her outrage. Something scraped over the stone behind you. The prince must’ve shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry about your mother. That’s something we have in common,” You pulled Katara up to stand next to you, gently wiping the tears from her face. When you lifted your gaze, Zuko stood directly in front of you.

You didn’t know what to think. Couldn’t even look at him. So you kept your eyes focused on the crystals around you. “(Y/N)...” He mumbled, but you shook your head. No more lies. You couldn’t take it anymore. “No,” Tears stinged in your eyes, but you refused to let them go. A throbbing headache soon formed, from your tightly clenched jaw. Katara looked between the two of you, sensing a new kind of tension. “But-”

“No!” You said with more force, glaring at his face. It was the first time that his eyes met yours, since you were down here. “You lied to me,” your voice wasn’t as strong as usual, shaking with emotion. “All this time was just a big lie!” You could see the big questionmark on your friends face, but you couldn’t bare to tell her what a stupid mistake you’d made. “It wasn’t! Yes i did lie about my identity, but i didn’t lie about anything else! Besides you never told me you were with the Avatar!” This was unbelievable. “Why would i? I didn’t think it would matter to our-” The walls shook around you. A part of it exploded, making stones and crystals fly everywhere. The three of you covered your faces, coughing from the whirled up dust. To your relief it revealed Aang and Iroh behind it.

“Aang!” Katara exclaimed, running up to him and embracing the Avatar in a tight hug. The man you’d formerly known as “Mushi” did the same to Zuko, while you stood in the middle. Silent. Unmoving. “Aang, i knew you would come. I found (Y/N) down here!” The water bender said. He smiled as you walked up to him and shared a hug with both. “It’s good to see you. We tried searching the city, but we couldn’t find you. Then i had a vision about Katara and you being in danger... What happened? Did they hurt you?”

You detatched yourself with a sigh. “It’s a long story,” He nodded, letting you off the hook for now. “Uncle, i don’t understand, what are you doing with the Avatar?” Zuko growled from behind you. “Saving you, that’s what,” Aang replied, still clinging to Katara. “Ugh!” The prince made a step forward, but the general held him back. “Prince Zuko, it’s time we talked. Go help your other friends!” he said to the Avatar. “We’ll catch up with you,” Aang didn’t waste any more time. He bowed to Iroh with a thankfull grin, before disappearing into the tunnel. Katara followed him without hesitation.

“(Y/N)?” At first you wanted to ignore the man. But you owed your life to him. He’d been the one to take you in, nursed you back to health, and now he seemed to help you once again. So you stopped for a second to look back at him. “I’m sorry we had to lie to you. But for what it’s worth, i’m glad to see you alive and well. I hope you can forgive us one day,” He mildly spoke, without force. You acknowledged his words with a brief nod, not sparing a glance for his nephew. Then you moved to follow the others.

The three of you took off, running deeper into the Catacombs. “We’ve got to find Sokka and Toph,” Katara called out. Suddenly a hiss rang out behind you, a wave of heat following the sound. You turned around just in time for Aang to block Azulas attack, barely escaping her flames. You’d never seen her before. Tough the resemblance to Zuko was undeniable. Knowing who he was helped to connect the dots between them more quickly. They had the same shade of umber hair. Shared some particular facial features. And nearly the same intruiging eyeshade. Just almost. You’d never known golden eyes could be so cold.

Producing a large wave Katara ran up to her, letting the water come crashing down. The princess deflected the attack with an offense of her own, transforming it all into hot mist, clouding the room. It didn’t take long for her to attack again. You redirected the fire balls with some of your own, staying in the defensive. “I see you’ve added a firebender to your little group,” She mocked, landing on a stone pillar. “How does it feel being a traitor to your own Nation?” You ignored her bribes, watching her every move.

The rock crumbled under her feet at Aangs next command. She had to jump, meeting the three of you on even ground. Minutes of deafening silence passed. No one dared to make a move.

A deep red flame interrupted the tension, landing right in the middle of the ring. Zuko had joined the field. And he was ready to fight. The question was: Which side would he choose?

You had no idea. You’d thought you knew him before. But now he was unpredictable. The boy you loved never existed in the first place. And yet you still tried to catch his eyes with yours, pleading for mercy.

He didn’t even look in your direction. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to fullfill his destiny. Wouldn’t be able to go home.

His burning hot flame shot directly at Aang.

Azula responded accordingly, sending her fire in Katara’s direction. The blue flames clashed with her water and the air sizzled, as a relentless fight erupted in the hall of the Catacombs.

In mere seconds pure chaos ensued. You tried defending Aang from the prince as best as you could, both of you working together. But as he bend a large rock to knock Zuko back, you found yourself at the ground as well. You landed on your back, directly on the wound the prince had treated. A sharp pain travelled up your spine.

Katara had Azula at her mercy, who was quickly freed by her brother while you and Aang got back to your feet. “I thought you’d changed!” Your friend yelled at him, using her water as an extension of her arms. He did the same with his flames. “I have changed,” He striked with all his might. It was a painful sight to look at. Her braid didn’t exist no longer, hair flying freely from the blow. She was knocked into a pair of green crystals, stained red around the edges one moment later.

“You’re right,” you mumbled, coming up behind him. “You really have,” For a moment his stance faltered. Nevertheless he faced his opponent. Neither of you made a move for a long time. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Azula hunting after Aang. She got the best of him as she pushed him back into the crystal wall. “Aang!” you screamed, rushing forward. Zuko stepped in your way, now producing flames, to hold you off. A rush of energy went through you, calling out to the fire within. It formed in your palms, pulsating and strong. They collided with his. Smoke rose around you, fighting tooth and nail.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Only rage. Pure and powerful anger. You shoved him back repeadiately, the despair fueling your fire. In a moment of carelessnes he managed to grab your wrists, pressing your back against the wall. The troubles of your injury caught up on you, weakening you faster than normal. You were no fool. It wasn’t a secret that he was a better fighter than you. Zuko was holding back.

Your heart clenched in your chest. This time you couldn’t hold it in. Tears spilled on your cheeks. “Please,” you gasped desperatly. You’d tried to concentrate on your hatred towards him. You really did. But your heart played a different game. “I don’t want to fight you,”

Doubts crossed his mind. It showed on his face and a tiny piece of hope flared in your chest. “You can still choose differently,” you whispered. Right now he was closer to you, than he had been in days. Once again you discovered all those tiny details in his face, that you’d loved so much. For a second you saw Lee. But before you was standing Zuko. His thumb catched one of your tears, gently wiping it from your cheek. And then he left. You weren’t worth his alliance. Weren’t even worth a fight. He left you sinking to the ground, the taste of ashes in your mouth.

All it took was one look upon the battlefield to know you’d lost. Aang’s next attack didn’t even reach the fire benders. Surrounded by Azula, Zuko and a number of Dai Lee agents, you had no chance. Katara had gotten back up, drawing a circle of water-tentacles around her. But you knew it would be of no use. There were too many. You got up despite the defeat, refusing to lose sitting down. Distanly you registered Aang producing a tent of crystals around his body to protect himself. You wondered how long it would take, before Azula burst through it. You positioned yourself in front of it regardless.

The princess smirked at you, raising her hands. Like a cat watching it’s prey.

Then the makeshift tent began to glow. From the inside. Aang floated in the air, his marks and eyes glowing brightly. He’d made it. He’d reached the Avatar-State. Everyone watched, entranced by the sight. Until a blaze of lightning striked. His body convulsed under the pressure of it’s power. And then the Avatar fell.

All you could do, was watch.

You were by his side before anybody else, still protecting his lifeless body with a circle of flames around you. Katara produced a large wave, reaching you just in time before the siblings. And to your luck, she wasn’t the only one who did.

Someone burst through the wall near the exit. “You’ve got to get out of here. I’ll hold them off as long as i can!” Iroh screamed, sending flames in every possible direction to create an opening. You took it. Carrying Aang, you and Katara ran for your lives. The waterfall of the Catacombs was your loophole, and you managed to get through, thanks to your friend producing a pillar of water.

Your eyes remained on the prince, until you were no longer able to see him.

find part three here!

tagging u beautiful ppl: @zvkonation @viva-la-millennia @randomness501 @drheinzd @kaylove12

#zuko x reader #avatar zuko #zuko imagine #prince zuko

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pindaleng · 4 years ago

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Merry Pitchmas @anotherbechloeshipper !!

Had so much fun writing this one, hope you enjoy it :)

Title: In From the Snow

Pairing: Bechloe

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2943

Summary: Beca didn’t anticipate making many friends her freshman year, much less become best friends with one Chloe Beale. When a snow storm ruins both their plans to travel home, they get to spend some quality time together. Beca thinks this might be her best chance to tell the other girl how she feels.

Read on AO3 or below.

Beca stared gloomily at the large flakes falling outside her dorm window.

There was no way her old Camry would be able drive more than ten miles an hour in these conditions. The forecast said “heavy snow”, but she didn’t realize it’d be this bad.

She totally would have left a few days earlier if she didn’t have a final scheduled for the absolute last day of the semester. It’s not like she was super excited about heading back home either, but she knew her dad and step mom would give her shit for it.

She sighed. Might as well text them now to rip off that band-aid.

Shortly after she sent the message, she heard a knock on her opened door.

“Hey, you’re still here!”

In the doorway stood Chloe Beale, undoubtedly the coolest person on their dorm floor. Beca (to her surprise) got along with most of the people on her floor, but something about Chloe specifically drew her in.

Admittedly, she found the other girl annoying at first, as she seemed like the high school girls that were fake nice just to talk about you behind your back. She soon learned, though, that Chloe was the real deal.

But not of course before giving her a hard time for a couple of months. Frustratingly, but thankfully, Chloe was incredibly persistent. Beca hadn’t really expected to make so many friends, intending to keep her head down and make her way through, but everyone grew on her. Especially Chloe.

“Yeah, unfortunately still here.” Beca replied. “Wanted to drive out today but doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen.”

Chloe invited herself in and hopped onto Beca’s bed. She hummed in understanding. “I just got back from the store and driving was for sure a struggle. Definitely would not recommend.”

“Great. You’re staying here too, then?”

“Yep! Which means you get to spend time with little ol’ me.” She propped her head on her hands. “Any plans for the day?”

There wasn’t really a Plan B since she didn’t expect her driving-back-home Plan A to not work out. “Not really, probably just gonna work on some mixes.”

“Can I join?”

“Yes, please make it a little less sad that I’m stuck here on Christmas Eve.”

“Sweet, I’ll be back.” Chloe slid off the bed and make her way out the room. “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Beca just rolled her eyes and started setting up her laptop.

Chloe came back moments later with her sketchbook and colored pencils, and settled on Beca’s roommate’s bed. Both of them were friends with Stacie, so they knew she wouldn’t mind her bed being used.

They passed time peacefully like this for a couple of hours, each doing their separate thing.

Beca was so engrossed in her music that she doesn’t notice Chloe call out her name until the other girl waved at her to get her attention.

She slipped off her headphones. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about getting some food soon. You in?”

The hunger hit her stomach now that food was mentioned. “Yeah, I could eat. Where at?” Though the dorms stayed open, dining halls were closed. There were plenty of places nearby though, and many of whom delivered. They went back and forth suggesting restaurants until Chloe looked like she had an epiphany. “We should go to that new ramen place!”

Beca’s immediate reaction was to pout, as they didn’t deliver. Chloe laughed.

“Oh come on, it’s a five minute walk, max. You big baby.” Chloe playfully poked her cheek. “Plus it’s super pretty outside.”

“And it’s super warm inside.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m going with or without you.”

The ultimatum was effective. Beca grumbled but put her coat on anyways. The reluctance was really just all show, as she would probably walk naked into a freezing lake for the other girl.

Snow was steadily falling outside, blanketing all the surfaces in a thick layer of white. Campus was quiet, as most of the students had already left for the holidays. It was both eerie and calming. The absence of drunk frat guys yelling, though, was definitely a plus.

“Okay I admit, it is pretty outside.” But you’re prettier. The automatic thought was so cheesy she almost threw up a bit in her mouth. Since when did she think such gross things? She could practically see Stacie smirking annoyingly at her.

Chloe grinned in victory, and Beca’s heart swooped.

Her brain definitely wasn’t lying though: Chloe was undoubtedly beautiful. The snowflakes in Chloe’s hair contrasted perfectly with the red color, making her look like some sort of magazine model. It felt kind of unfair that she could exist like that and not know what she was doing to poor Beca’s soul.

—

When the waitress asked if they needed one or two checks, Chloe replied “just one” before Beca could get a word in.

As the waitress walked away, Beca sent a questioning look to the redhead.

Chloe shrugged, “It’s easier for them to just run a single card.” Beca offered to pay her back, but she insisted it to be a holiday present. If Beca didn’t know better, she would have swore it was a date.

They were on their way back to the dorms when Beca felt something hit the back of her head.

She whipped around. “Hey!”

Chloe was already packing another snowball, clearly out for blood. She quickly launched that one too, which Beca barely managed to sidestep. She bent down to create her own snow projectile.

Chloe began to run away to get out of range, so Beca went to chase her. Unfortunately, Beca slipped on the snow and fell. Chloe was immediately at her side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

The snow cushioned her fall pretty well, but Beca didn’t want to give that away just yet. She faked a grimace. “I think I broke my leg.”

“Oh shit.” Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in worry. “I’m so sorry I-“

Beca felt too bad that she immediately stopped her. “I’m joking, I’m actually fine.”

It took a moment to register, and then Chloe slapped her on the arm. “You scared me!”

Beca rubbed the spot where she was hit. “Ok now I actually have to go to the hospital.”

Chloe just slapped her arm again, before offering a hand to pull her up. Beca took it but didn’t get up. Chloe looked confused as Beca smirked, and then pulled the other girl down into the snow with her. She fell on her face in the fresh snow with a satisfying poof.

“Oh my god, you asshole.” Chloe laughed after pulling her face up, and shoved at the other girl, who was still laying in the snow.

“Chlo you have a beard.” Beca was practically wheezing at the sight of Chloe having snow stuck all over her face. “Still hot though.”

Chloe modeled it, striking poses and getting up to walk down an imaginary runway, while Beca yelled after her, hyping her up.

They messed around in the snow for a while longer, then took the long way back. Beca considered complaining about the cold and wet seeping in, but Chloe just looked so happy. Plus, it really was nice outside. Walking with Chloe in the peace of campus was a moment Beca wanted to keep tucked in her pocket forever.

—

After getting back, they went to take showers (separately) to warm themselves up, deciding to reconvene later in Chloe’s room. Beca sat on her bed with her hair in a towel, scrolling through her phone. She opened a message from Stacie, who was definitely one of her best friends in college so far. She flew out a couple of days ago and told Beca not to “get too freaky” while she was gone. Beca practically shoved her out the door.

Stacie [6:31 pm]: You make it home?

Beca [7:13 pm]: No, stuck here. Stupid snow.

A reply immediately came in.

Stacie [7:13 pm]: Ugh that sucks, are you by yourself then?

Beca hesitated on what exactly to say, knowing Stacie would immediately make fun of her for the truth.

Beca [7:15 pm]: Not exactly…..Chloe is also still here

Stacie [7:16 pm]: !!!!!!!!!!

Stacie [7:16 pm]: BECA

Stacie [7:16 pm]: THIS IS YOUR CHANCE

Beca [7:17 pm]: Dude she doesn’t like me

Stacie [7:18 pm]: Do NOT bother coming back to campus if you don’t shoot your shot right now

Stacie [7:19 pm]: Joking but also not

Stacie [7:19 pm]: She hangs out w you all the time. She actually listens to your music recs. Plz do something.

Stacie [7:20 pm]: Ok talk later family is calling for dinner, good luck!!!!!

Beca [7:21 pm]: ??? I’m going to ignore that you basically implied not listening to any of the music I’ve suggested

She fell back onto her bed. She wanted to make a move, and she did feel like there could be something between them. However, each time Chloe was nice to someone else, she got psyched out believing that Chloe was always just being platonically nice to her. No flirting involved.

With each passing day, though, it became harder to deny she wanted her. And how badly she did. She caught herself staring a bit too long, and hung endlessly on the small touches Chloe would always do. A brush of the finger here, and a hair tucked behind an ear there. Beca thought some days she might explode.

She texted Chloe to ask if she was ready yet.

Chloe [7:25 pm]: Sorry got distracted!! Hopping in the shower now.

With the extra time, Beca decided to finish the mix she was working on earlier that day. There was something off about it that she couldn’t quite figure out, but coming back to it now, she figured out what it was missing. She listened to it a few times to make sure she was really happy with it before mastering it.

A text came in from Chloe, letting her know she could come over whenever.

Beca quickly added the song to a USB which already contained many music files, then placed the drive into a small pink, cardboard box she got from Stacie. The box originally held a necklace, which made it the perfect size for her gift.

She stashed it in her sweater pocket then made her way to Chloe’s room in the other wing of the floor.

It was still relatively early in the night, so Chloe suggested a movie. Beca wasn’t one for movies usually, but it wasn’t like she had any better ideas.

They cuddled together on the small dorm bed in Chloe’s den of pillows, with the laptop in front of them. The movie was actually pretty good, despite all the bad decisions the main character kept making, and the fact that Beca missed half the plot due to glancing at Chloe instead, and being nervous about how close they were.

“Thoughts?” Chloe turned down the volume as the credits began to roll.

“I think she should have gone with the second guy.”

“Really? I thought he was kind of iffy.”

They proceeded have a lively discussion about the movie, with Beca continuing to argue mostly to mess with Chloe, who seemed quite adamant about the main character’s end choice of romantic partner. It ended with Chloe tickling her until Beca finally admitted her defeat.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Beca looked at Chloe warily, still catching her breath from the tickling attack. “Um, why?”

“Just do it.”

She sighed but did as she was told.

“No peeking!”

Her index finger drew a cross above her heart, signaling her promise to not look.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

In front of her was a piece of paper carefully rolled into a tube and bound with a red bow. Beca picked it up, gingerly untying the ribbon, unraveling her gift. Her jaw dropped.

“Chloe…”

In her hands was a pencil sketch of her with headphones on, smiling and almost on the verge of laughing. Honestly, she never thought about what she looked like while she was happy. The image of herself in her mind was always some version of broody. Is this how Chloe saw her? Beca wasn’t one to usually cry, but she might have teared up a bit.

“This is…incredible.”

Chloe looked kind of nervous. The same way that Beca was protective of showing others her music, Chloe was hesitant to show much of her art. “You like it?”

“Dude I love it. Seriously.” That reassurance seemed to put Chloe at ease. “Okay, your turn to close your eyes.”

Chloe did it without hesitation, and also held out her hands. Beca shook her head a bit in amusement and placed the small box into her palm.

“Okay, open.”

She opened her eyes and lifted the lid of the box to find a black USB drive, with a piece of tape on the side simply labeled “For Chloe”.

Her smile widened as she realized what her present was. “Do I get to finally listen to your music?”

“Maybe.”

“It means a lot, Beca. Thank you.”

“Um yeah, no problem. Don’t tell me if you end up thinking it’s bad.” She joked.

“Oh please, you’re going to have to block me with how many good things I’ll say.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might delete your contact right now.”

Chloe laughed. “Oh please, like you could last a day without me. Also, I actually have another present for you.” She scotched a bit closer to Beca.

“Oh,” Beca furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I don’t have anything el-“

She was swiftly cut off as Chloe kissed her, soft and sweet. So polite and unassuming it almost felt platonic.

But god did it give Beca butterflies.

Chloe pulled away so quickly that Beca wasn’t sure it even happened. Like maybe she just daydreamed too hard and manifested a hallucination.

She must have had a deer in the headlights look because Chloe suddenly got super shy. “Was that okay?” She whispered, face still close.

Beca finally came to her senses. “Yeah, totally. More than okay. Amazing really.” She must look like a blushing mess.

The corner of Chloe’s mouth quirked up in amusement and relief. “Yeah?”

“Still could be better, though.” Good work Beca, make a joke to regain some semblance of having her shit together.

“Oh?” She watched Chloe lick her lips, a mesmerizing motion. The shyness was all but gone, replaced by something much more confident, and destined to ruin Beca’s life. And she knew she’d welcome it with open arms.

—

Beca woke up in the morning to the light touch of fingers trailing along her jaw. She smiled, remembering where she was, and more importantly, who was besides her. She probably had the best night of sleep in her life. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, Beale?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” Chloe whispered. Her raspy morning voice was really so damn attractive.

She opened one eye, smiling. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” Chloe leaned in for a long kiss, the hand on her face pulling Beca closer. Her breath hitched. She didn’t think she could ever get used to this. Kissing Chloe Beale. Touching her.

She pulled away all too soon, just as Beca began to want her even more. Beca was quickly learning how much of a tease Chloe was.

“i’m going to get ready, and then maybe we can go get breakfast somewhere?”

“Or…we can stay in bed all day.”

Chloe giggled, and Beca almost professed her love. “Becs, both of us gotta head home.”

“Do we though?”

Chloe just smiled as she slipped out of bed and grabbed her toothbrush and face towel. Before she was completely out the door, she gave her butt a little shake, as if she could tell Beca was staring at her clad in a large t-shirt and sleep shorts. Beca was sure Chloe was smirking as she did it.

As soon as she was out of sight, Beca grabbed her phone from the desk. A text from her dad and a couple from Stacie. She opened the messages from the latter.

Stacie [11:13 pm]: How’d it go?

Stacie [11:30 pm]: I’m assuming the silence is a good thing and ur just too busy making out with Chloe to reply ;)

Beca typed out a quick message.

Beca [9:30 am]: So…..

Stacie [9:30 am]: THIS BETTER BE GOOD NEWS

Beca [9:31 am]: How do you keep replying so quickly??

Stacie [9:31 am]: How about you stop avoiding

Beca thought of the million different things she could say, but opted for simplicity.

Beca [9:32 am]: :)

Stacie [9:33 am]: Is that good

Stacie [9:33 am]: Beca is that good

Stacie [9:34 am]: ?????

She set her phone down, feeling giddy. It might have been a bit cruel to leave Stacie hanging, but she’d get over it. She’d get the full story eventually, but right now, Beca wanted to keep as much of this thing with Chloe to herself as possible. Definitely not like a shameful secret, though.

Something about telling someone about it, however vaguely, made last night and this morning seem actually real. She had this feeling deep in her chest that this was the start of something incredible, which made her both excited and a bit scared. Ok a lot scared. Terrified even.

It sucked that they’d have be apart right as they were starting something. Winter break couldn’t be over soon enough.

#bechloe #merry pitchmas 2020 #pitchmas 2020 #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #stacie conrad #college AU #snowed in #fic #anotherbechloeshipper

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