#{ AMAZING how they got the same result even with wildly different answers }

[ofthescatteredstars]

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝘿𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀?

In an amazing twist of fate, both Soup and Orchidus are... all encompassing

it consumes you. thoughts that trace the same memory every waking second. body engrained with muscle memory at even the slightest sound. everything that is the earth reminds you of it. courses through your body like fire, keeps you afloat and wanting, always wanting for more

[omg-imagine]

⊱ That Old Feeling ⊰

Summary: You're a lounge singer performing at the Continental for the first time in years, and you reconnect with your past love, John Wick.

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol and a bit of drama.

A/N: I seriously can’t stop writing about John right now. I do have another fic in the works and hopefully, it’ll be up by next week. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I wish you all good health especially at this time!

(Title and lyrics below are from the song by Chet Baker which inspired this fic)

With one last glance at your reflection in the mirror, you were ready to walk on stage. For a brief moment, you peeked through the red curtains and saw that the bar was teeming with patrons waiting for your performance. A small tap on your shoulder made you step back and look to the side.

“Darling,” Winston began with a wide grin before giving you a kiss on the cheek. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you, Winston,” you replied as you hugged the man in front of you. “And thank you for having me here.”

“Nonsense, dear. The guests have been eager to hear you sing ever since I announced that you were coming back. I can still remember the first time you sang on this very stage.”

You chuckled at the memory. Your father and Winston were good friends, and when Winston learned that you were gifted with an incredible voice, he hired you to perform live at the Continental’s bar every weekend. It was your first paid job as a singer, and you did it for years until you decided to take up an opportunity to work in Europe.

“That was such a long time ago,” you smiled, mindlessly toying with the microphone in your hand. “I can’t believe that I’m back here in New York. Everything feels the same yet different.”

“Well, I did some remodeling when you left— spiced up the place a bit after you complained it was getting a bit dreary,” Winston said teasingly.

“I was merely offering a suggestion, which turned out to be a great one considering how amazing it appears now.”

Winston laughed as you checked the audience once more. You recognized some of the faces in the room, and you couldn’t help but think if there was a possibility that he was here tonight.

“He’s checked-in for two days. I reminded him that you’re performing this evening,” Winston stated as if he had heard your thoughts.

You sighed deeply. “Is he coming?”

“He didn’t say,” Winston answered, and you heard the disappointment in his voice. “But that shouldn’t stop you from giving the crowd an outstanding performance. It’s been years, and I thought you had moved on?”

“I did,” you responded. It was a lie, and Winston could tell. Fortunately, he didn’t push any further.

“Okay, then. So, you know the drill— I’ll do a little spiel about you, and the curtains will go up. The band’s ready to play your songs for tonight. After an hour, you’re free to mingle around or return to your room.”

You smiled and nodded at Winston, who wished you good luck before he stepped on stage. As your nerves settled, you closed your eyes, and immediately, you were brought back to the last time you were here. You vividly recalled the sights and the sounds, the smell of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume, the standing ovation you received, and then…

John.

The last time you were here was the last time you saw John. You had met him at the end of one of your first shows, and after sharing a couple of drinks, you woke up in his bed the next morning.

Initially, you had thought it would only be a one-time thing, but you were surprised to see him sitting close by the stage, watching you perform the following night.

It became a regular occurrence between you and John— sleeping together whenever he was staying at the hotel. For three years, the two of you had a relationship that existed solely within the walls of the Continental. It wasn’t a secret that you yearned for something more, but the two of you had very different lives.

Despite being exposed to this world at a young age, your father made sure you were never a part of it. As a result, you had a fairly normal life. Meanwhile, John’s life was the only one he ever knew, and it would have been impossible for him to walk away from it.

So, when you told John about leaving for Europe, he didn’t hesitate to let you go.

Even though you had found success abroad, you knew that something in your heart was missing. You tried to find it through several relationships, and you had always wondered why they were all short-lived.

The reason for the emptiness didn’t dawn on you until much later on, and it has haunted you ever since.

The lights dimmed down, and slowly the curtains rose, revealing the crowd. You graced the stage as the bright spotlight focused on you, causing the many faces in the room to get lost in the background.

The piano started to play, and you lifted the microphone up to your mouth. Then, you began singing the lyrics…

I saw you last night and got that old feeling

When you came in sight I got that old feeling

The moment that you danced by I felt a thrill

And when you caught my eye my heart stood still...

When you reached the second verse, your eyes caught a man entering the bar and sauntering towards the stage. He chose to sit by the wall across from you, the shadows obscuring the features on his face. As you continued the song, you could feel his intense gaze on you the entire time.

Once again I seemed to feel that old yearning

And I knew the spark of love was still burning

There’ll be no new romance for me, it’s foolish to start...

You didn’t want to think that it was John, but judging by his silhouette, it had to be him. There was a moment when you belted out a big note, and the lights on the stage lit up the audience watching you.

For a split-second, you swore that you caught a glimpse of John’s face just before it went dark again.

For that old feeling, is still in my heart

There’ll be no new romance for me, it’s foolish to start

For that old feeling, is still in my heart…

The song ended, and the guests stood on their feet, applauding. You smiled, taking a bow as the lights inside the room turned back on again, and almost immediately, your eyes darted to where you thought you had seen John.

Much to your disappointment, the table was empty, and you eventually chalked it off as your mind playing cruel tricks on you.

You finished your setlist in an hour. By the end of it, you were tired, and your throat was dry. Instead of reaching for a bottle of water, you headed to the bar area and requested your choice of poison. As you waited for your drink, people came up to compliment you on your vocals, but none of them were John.

The band played music in the background as the night continued to unfold. You were seated by the counter, absentmindedly stirring the watery drink in your hand as the buzz finally kicked in. You were just about to retreat back to your room when a man took the vacant seat beside yours, and you heard his voice.

“You were wonderful up there,” John spoke, his eyes glued to yours.

You couldn’t find the right words to express how you were feeling now. All that came out was the quiet whisper of John’s name and saying it out loud made you remember how long it truly has been since it left your lips.

John took a swig of his bourbon before calling the bartender over and having her refill your glass. You mumbled thanks as you downed nearly all of the drink in one go. You could feel your heart pounding wildly inside of your chest, and you didn’t know what to do.

“You look beautiful as always,” he added, his words filling up the silence that hung over the air. “I’m assuming Europe has treated you well.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “It was great, but I belong here in New York. It’s home.”

John smiled as you studied his face under the lowlights of the bar. The years of fighting had caught up to him, but he was even more handsome now than before. You didn’t mind the lines and the wrinkles that were new to you. What you loved most about him were his mahogany eyes. They used to be so alluring, so mysterious yet so warm and inviting.

And they still were, only this time, they were... weary.

“I know it’s been a while,” John began as he turned his body towards you. His hands carefully reached over to grasp yours, and you let him hold you. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too,” you responded as your eyes drifted down to your joined hands. “John, when I left all those years ago— I wanted to stay. Why did you let me go?”

John remained silent, but you could see that he was trying to come up with an explanation. The alcohol in your system unearthed the many questions you spent so long hoping you would get answers for. He knew how you felt about him, and when he didn’t even bother asking you to rethink your decision of leaving, it broke you.

“I love you,” you said softly. “I wanted to be with you, and you pushed me away.”

You saw him swallow thickly as his gaze locked with yours. “We just can’t be.”

“How do you know?” You questioned him. “We’ve only seen each other in this hotel for a couple nights a week, but those nights are something I could never compare with others. I thought taking up residency in Europe would help me get over you, but it only made it worse as time went on.”

“Why would you want to stay with me?” John asked you sincerely. “You’re able to live a normal life. You don’t deal with this world the way I do. The things that I have done are horrific and unforgivable. You deserved better.”

You suddenly stood up from your seat but couldn’t bring your feet to move. “I don’t care, John. Your job doesn’t change the fact that I still love you. I love you because you’re much more than the monster you think you are.”

“We can’t,” John uttered dejectedly.

Shutting your eyes, you tried to stop the tears from falling but failed. “I don’t understand your reason for being here right now. You come here only to push me away further because you think you don’t deserve happiness .”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“What? Get me upset? You have some nerve to show up and tell me what you think I deserve,” you notice John reaching out for you once again, but you slapped his hand away. The hurt on his face at that second was something you would never forget. “You shouldn’t have come. I thought you cared for me, but at least I now know that I was wrong.”

Before John could stop you, you had already stormed off and gone to the elevators. Once the doors shut, you began sobbing quietly. A part of you had hoped that he was there to ask if you two could pick up from where your relationship had left off. You now felt foolish for even thinking of it.

When the elevator reached your floor, you headed straight inside your room and informed Winston that you would be leaving tonight. You were supposed to stay for three more nights, but you couldn’t bear being in the hotel where everything reminded you of John.

After a change of clothes, and packing up your belongings, you went down to the lobby. Just as you were about to step out of the building, you heard your name being called from behind. You turned around and saw John rushing towards you.

“Don’t leave,” John pleaded, slightly out of breath. “You’re right, I don’t know what you deserve. But what I do know is that I’m not making the same mistake of letting you go again.”

“John—”

He placed his hands on the sides of your face, causing you to drop your luggage on the ground. “Seeing you tonight, I was reminded of all those times we spent together. Those times with you are the best I’ve ever had, and I want to have more.”

John pressed his forehead to yours as you melted underneath his touch. A few tears escaped your eyes, and he instantly wiped them away using the edge of his thumb.

“I love you,” he confessed, catching you by surprise. “Throughout your performance, that was all I could ever think about. I promised myself that the next time I see you, I would just go ahead and say it. I never told you this before because I wanted to make parting from you easier.”

You looked up with a tearful gaze. “Did it? Did it make it any easier?”

“No,” John shook his head. “I regretted letting you go from the moment you walked out of my room. I didn’t mean to let you go, and for that I’m sorry. Earlier, I panicked when you said you loved me, and I started pushing you away. But I’m done running away from a chance at happiness. I can’t lose you, not again. Can we just please start over?”

Moments later, you had yet to give him an answer. You thought about it and came to the conclusion that despite the long years that had passed, you never stopped loving John. You knew for a while that he was it— your missing piece.

Instead of using your words, you leaned in and kissed John on his lips. His arms slowly dropped down to your waist, pulling your body closer as you deepened the kiss. Your hands wound around his neck, your fingers gently playing with the hair at his nape as he continued kissing you senselessly.

Eventually, John stepped backwards, smiling widely and lovingly at you. “Are you hungry? We could have a late dinner?”

Left breathless, you gave him a nod, but then you realized what time it was. “John, it’s way past midnight. Where are we going to eat?”

An idea popped into John’s head, and he reached down to carry your bags. “We can go to my place, and I can cook for you? Or we can check if room service is still available?”

You shook your head as you slipped your hand into John’s. “No offense to Winston and his staff, but I am tired of ordering room service from here. All this traveling has made me crave a home-cooked meal. Besides, I think it’s about time you and I spend a night outside of this hotel.”

“Agreed.”

Stealing another kiss from you, John then escorted you down the steps leading to the sidewalk before calling over a cab. After putting your luggage in the trunk, he held the door for you and climbed in once you were settled inside. He gave the driver his address, and the car soon pulled out onto the street.

You sat with John in the backseat in peaceful silence. Gazing up, you smiled at him before glancing at the world passing through the windows. For the first time, you two left the walls of the Continental together.

It felt so good to be with John again, and as he wrapped his arm around you, pressing his lips on top of your head, you realized that you were finally complete.

[sunarintoes]

Synopsis: Yn Ln is an environmentalist - Miyagi University’s very own campus ‘Green Thumb.’ One day Hinata Shōyō who happens to be a close friend of Yn, invites them to come to one of his races. The only problem is that this race of his, is illegal. Read the journey of Yn who has been sucked into the world of illegal street racing with the one goal: to create an eco-friendly race car.

WC: 1.1K

Ford Mustang

Simple but strong. That is the only way to describe Ushijima. One could compare him to that of an eagle - victorious, fast and strong however there is a hidden delicacy that is easy to miss. It is that of a swan - elegance, devotion and calmness. It is obvious he’s good enough to be a professional so why isn’t he? What has made him stay in an underground racing team?  Oikawa is an amazing racer and seeing him smash out a victory you would expect him to do the same during this race. But you were wrong, so wrong. He was in second place but still half a lap behind Ushijima and from your seat up in the bleachers you could feel his determination fall through; it was the last lap and even you knew Oikawa could not win. It is not like you want him to win either, you just pity him and his efforts for not being good enough, or so you tell yourself.

Not even a minute later and Ushijima has crossed the finish line. You start counting, 1… 2… 3.... 4… 5… 6… 7… seven seconds until Oikawa pushes past the finish line as well. You feel your heart clench but you don’t know why. You assume it is because of your disliking towards the brunet and his faux bravado. Your body stiffens in its place, ‘faux bravado?’ you mumble to yourself. Your mind enters a whirlpool of thoughts: where did I get the idea that he’s faking it? Why do I even care? We don't get along and that's that, no reason to try and understand him. 

Sugawara takes notice of your stressed figure, ‘are you okay?’ His voice shocks you at first but quickly brings you back to reality, ‘you know it’s okay that Hinata didn't win… he's used to it. Of course he'll be annoyed but he'll use this as a learning step and improve from it.’

You sigh in relief, at least he didn't know what you were thinking. You let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ before focusing your eyes back on the track. Everyone is finished and out of their vehicles congratulating one another and you notice that Ushijima is quite tall and handsome. You whistle, ‘I can't decide who’s luckier, him or his significant other… maybe they are both lucky?’

Sugawara raises an eyebrow, ‘who are you talking about?’

‘Ushijima obviously- like I mean the man has skills, height, looks and not to mention a fucking Ford Mustang.’ 

Sugawara laughs in reply, ‘I think he’s the luckier one… after all he’s dating my lovely younger sister- who is amazing, might I add.’

‘No way! Isn't he a hot shot or something? I would have totally thought he would have had a harem of girls!’

Sugawara continues to laugh, ‘he still does, he’s just always ignored them! He didn't get along with my sister at first either! I can't remember exactly how they met but I know they got off on the wrong foot. Kinda like you, an Oikawa but without the unnecessary rudeness.’

You grimace and look to the side, ‘can I tell you something?’

‘Hm? Of course!’

‘I… I don’t think Oikawa is as bad as what he portrays himself as. I think he's just misunderstood. I'm not sure why but just before I came here, I was behind the venue with Hajime looking at the sunset before Oikawa came and got him. In the few seconds we had made eye contact he scrunched up his face as if he were repulsed by me but before he looked at me his face… it had an unreadable expression.’

Sugawara lets out a sigh, ‘Yn, you haven't been around that long and you barely know Oikawa. You shouldn't go around assuming things like that - no matter how truthful they may be, because at the end of the day it's none of your business. I doubt Oikawa would appreciate someone like you trying to meddle with his life or dissect his emotions… no offense of course, I just mean that the two of you clearly don't get along. So how about you take a seat back and not jump into any conclusions, yeah?’

You look down to your feet and feel your stomach twist. Sugawara is right, you wouldn't be doing anything good if you got yourself involved in his life and there was no need for it any way. ‘Yeah I guess.’

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look to see him offering a small smile, ‘enough of the long face, they’re about to announce the details of the street race.’

✄.

‘And now! The moment you've all been waiting for! Tonight’s draw will be hosted by your one and only Big Sis Saeko! And the racing track will be drawn by the one and only winner!... Ushiiiiwakaaaa!’ the crowd screams wildly.

‘Wow I never thought people would get so hyped up over a raffle thing.’

‘Yeah you get used to the crazy antics of the spectators… can't say the same for the drivers!’ laughs sugawara. 

You give him a scrunched smile, ‘yeah I agree.’

Saeko brings out a box and places four different coloured balls inside, ‘okay! Ushiwaka are you ready to decide the fate of all racers here?’ Although it was a question, it definitely sounded more like an overly energetic statement. 

As Ushijima reaches into the box the crowd goes silent - anticipating the result. Everyone lets out a breath they unknowingly held as Ushijima brings his arm up and presents the ball - 'aaaand there we have it! We’re going to track three!! I'll see you all there on the multiple spectator spots next week!’ The crowd starts to cheer once again. 

‘Hey Suga, where are we gonna watch the race?’

‘Hmm? Oh yeah we’re watching it from the club room.’ You look at him and wait for him to expand his answer; however you doubt he gets the message as he continues to smile blanky at you.

‘Why and how are we going to watch it from the club room?’

‘Tsukishima’s a really good IT person, he hacks into the camera’s and we’ll watch the live show from the safety of the club.’

You let your jaw drop open; ‘now that! That is illegal!’

‘No, not if we don't get caught!’

You let out an exasperated sigh, and side-eye him, ‘you know, you're not as tame as you look.’ Sugawara chuckles at that.

Taglist: @cutepet09 @dadchi-oya

[whittakerjodie]

So infuriating ( 13th Doctor X Reader )

Request:” Hii :)) might I request a 13 x reader story where they start off bickering all the time but then realize they actually like each other quite a lot? Thank you” Requested by @anti-bright-places​

A/N: I’m bad at writing bickering but I tried! I loved this request because it helped me explore it more. Thanks for requesting, hope you all enjoy! 

Words: 1.3k 

Warnings: Brief description of injury

   The TARDIS was rarely silent. It was normal for the three human companions Ryan, Yaz, and Graham to wake up to the sound of clanging metal or arguing. Ryan, who’d been woken up by some sort of interior construction going on, made his way into one of the kitchens on the space/time ship. He grabbed a mug and a random container of loose-leaf tea. Just then, a flash of color passed in the doorway and he turned his head. You'd been walking down the hallway and quickly shot back to the door frame, glancing at the tea in his hand. 

"Is that from Isroth?" You asked. Ryan looked around and then pointed at the tea with a questioning look. 

"Uh- the tea?" You nodded and approached, turning the packet over in his hand. 

"Oh my god, it is." You groaned, throwing it in the bin. "I told her not to drink this stuff, it's extremely unhealthy. Of course, she did it anyway." You opened up the cabinet to confiscate the rest of it. Before Ryan could ask you more you swiftly disappeared back into the hallway. Yaz entered, seeing the empty cupboard. 

"Are they bickering about the tea again?" 

"Sort of?" Ryan replied. "You know how they are. I give it an hour before the Doctor realizes.” 

   Sure enough, an hour later Graham was trying in vain to read as you and the Doctor argued over whether or not you should've gotten rid of the tea considering 'Yes its unhealthy, but not that unhealthy' (to which you insisted yes, it was, and maybe the Doctor should also work on her sweets addiction)

   Later Graham and Yaz would joke about how the two of you were practically married with the way you argued. Ryan would try to get them to join his attempt to set the two of you up together; it'd be in vain since they were having an ongoing bet to see how long it would take the two of you on your own. 

   Days like this were not uncommon for the two of you. It didn't matter what planet or time period you were visiting or if the plan to save the day was succeeding or not; there was always something for you two to argue and bicker about. 

   Take the last few adventures for an example: On one occasion, there were multiple different ways you could've approached saving a small, nomadic village. You spent so long bickering about which one would yield the best results that the attacking group was able to undermine every single one of them. On another, the TARDIS randomizer was broken and kept sending you to the same location, just at different times; there'd been a half-an-hour long spat about what to do. Dozens of other (probably meaningless) events came to mind. 

   You'd written all of them off as simply part of the job. You didn't dislike her. On the contrary, you greatly respected and appreciated her 90% of the time. But when you spend nearly every waking moment with someone, there's bound to be some bickering. It just seemed to happen a lot. 

    Currently, you found yourself in another one of those situations. You and the Doctor had gotten separated from the fam running from some pretty aggressive aliens and you'd gotten roughed up in the process. Now, the two of you were bound together back-to-back in a cell, waiting for them to return. You hissed as the rope bounding your wrists together dug in a little too much. It was paired with the throbbing pain spread across your chest, from what you were assuming were broken ribs. 

"Are you alright?" The Doctor asked. You felt the familiar annoyance rise up and take control of your voice. 

"I would be if we'd gone right as I suggested" 

“Left was clearly the better route. We only got captured because we were being too loud.” 

“Oh, I wonder which one of us that was.” You said pointedly. You expected the Doctor to throw back something, but no response came. The silence was deafening. You couldn't make out what she whispered ten minutes later. "What was that?" 

"I said I'm sorry" She spoke louder, leaning her head back against yours. There was another beat of silence before she continued. "You were right, we should've gone a different way. I'm sorry- that you got hurt and that I didn't listen." 

You blinked, not sure of what to say. Usually, the two of you would just bicker, and then be done with it. You felt bad for instigating another fight.

"I- I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said that." 

"It's okay" the response was very quick, and you tried to shift. When you groaned in pain again the Doctor tried to stop you, but you shushed her. When you were finally done squirming, your head lay on her shoulder so you could just barely look her in the eye. 

"I don't always mean to bicker with you, you know" 

"I don't either. " Came her reply. "I guess it just.. happens you know. Now look where it's got us" 

   You gave a short laugh, pushing past the pain it brought you. It was silent once more as if both of you were waiting for your brain to supply you with something to say next. You let yourself relax into her. It wasn't hard. She was warm, and soft, and gently relaxing back into you. It was comfortable, despite the    circumstances. 

"You know-" She started.

"I know" You softly replied. It was like a silent admission, shared between the two of you. You both recognized that the arguments were nothing more than natural bickering. You hoped that you were also in the process of acknowledging how you really felt. You decided to prompt her further, chastising yourself for cutting her off moments before. 

"I think even if we'd gone right, this would've happened. Your idea was good too. They always are." She didn't respond, simply staring at you. You closed your eyes so you could continue unembarrassed. "You're amazing, you know? And sometimes you’re also infuriating, and goofy, and-" 

She shifted her weight and you yelped as gravity took over and your bodies crashed onto the floor. Pain shot up your side and your ears rang, drowning out whatever the Doctor was saying.

"What.the.hell?" You groaned through gritted teeth.

"Sorry I was um... I was just trying to move a little." 

"Why?" You tried to turn to look at her but there was too much resistance in your new position. 

"I was.. well" She chuckled nervously. You raised a brow and waited for her to continue. 

"Doctor.....?" 

"IwastryingtoseeifIcouldkissyou?" She all-too-quickly answered. You blinked and your breath hitched. Your heartbeat did not. You opened your mouth to ask her to repeat herself, but you'd heard her well enough. Through the door of the cell you were being held in, you heard something that sounded like.. cheering? The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing Ryan. He was grinning from ear the ear, arms raised in a victory pose. He jumped up and down, like a child unwrapping a Christmas present they’d begged for.

"I knew it! I knew it! Yaz, Graham, come 'ere, you won't believe-" He waved wildly down the hallway, where you suspected the other two companions were. You felt blood rush to your face and heard the Doctor groan in embarrassment.  

"I should've joined the bet!" Ryan exclaimed again. 

"It happened? Seriously?" Yaz asked. It hurt too much to keep turning your head so you could see them in the door frame. From their voices, they sounded very proud. You felt pain shoot through your chest again and the Doctor took back control of the situation. 

"Alright, you lot, when you're done joking around we could use some help over here. Actually, we could’ve used help the past 20 minutes, but you were too busy listening at the door." 

   Although they started untying you, the joking failed to cease. You didn't mind. The Doctor did, and repeatedly scolded the three humans (which only encouraged them further). They whistled as she picked you up bridal style, and you jokingly snuggled into her. If you can't beat em, join em, you thought. 

   There would be an awkward conversation later so the two of you could confess properly, but for now, you just let yourself relax. At least the bickering paid off in the end. You’d still have to monitor her sweet addiction.

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

Not According To Plan

Summary:  A fire truck, a smoky kitchen and an unexpected surprise are awaiting Dean after coming back home from work.

The last thing Dean expected to see after coming back home from work was a huge fire truck in front of his apartment building and his neighbors standing outside on the sidewalk in various stages of disgruntlement.

Dean leaps out of the Impala so quickly he almost forgets to turn it off and hurries over to the group of people as fast as possible, his heart nearly in his throat as his overly creative mind imagines the most horrible scenarios in a matter of milliseconds. “What happened?”

Several faces turn in his direction, most of them looking quite annoyed but thankfully not even the slightest bit worried or alarmed.

Small miracles.

Meg, their neighbor directly living across the hall, at last scoffs at him and shakes his head. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

Cas.

Dean’s chest clenches painfully as he suddenly notices his boyfriend not standing here with the others. Cas actually should’ve been home for hours, his shift at the police station having ended early, like every Friday.

So why --?

Before any disturbing pictures manage to invade his head, though, he spots Castiel a little on the side, sitting on a small wall with his face buried into his palms. He looks small and defeated, but thankfully perfectly alive.

“Cas!” Dean exclaims and instantly rushes over, his knees crying in protest as they hit the hard concrete when Dean kneels down to be on his boyfriend’s eye level. “Babe, you alright?”

Cas makes some incoherent noises into his hands, but otherwise refrains from elaborating.

“C’mon, Cas, talk to me,” Dean encourages him softly, laying one hand onto his thigh in a soothing manner. “You’re not hurt, right?”

Dean naturally is pretty sure he isn’t -- after all, neither the firefighters nor their neighbors would remain so calm if that seriously would be the case --, however, he wants Cas to say it out loud anyway.

Just to ease Dean’s mind.

As expected Cas’ head snaps up right away, his eyes wide. “No, no, of course not,” he reassures Dean hastily. “I’m physically unharmed. Please don’t worry about that.”

Dean smiles softly at him, already on the verge of whispering, “I will always worry because I love you more than anything in the world”, but in the end he only leans forward and presses a gentle kiss onto Cas’ lips. He’s not really keen on getting all emotional with so many people standing close by, but nevertheless he can’t help showing affection, especially after such an unexpected shock late in the evening.

“So, what happened, babe?” Dean wonders. “Why are our neighbors pointing the finger at you?”

“Because he burned your kitchen down,” Meg adds helpfully from the background, resulting in the people around her nod in confirmation.

Cas shoots Meg a dark glare, obviously highly displeased by such a public announcement, while Dean’s brows climb upwards as he stares at his boyfriend.

“You burned our kitchen down?”

Great.

Just great.

Cas, however, merely snorts. “It didn’t ‘burn down’,” he defends himself with the biggest pout in the history of pouts while at the same time using air-quotes like the adorable dork he is. “There was just a lot of smoke and the smoke detectors went off --”

He rambles on, about the device’s noises and how he tried to make it stop, how he utterly failed and the fire department showed up soon after, ushering every single resident outside into the cold, how they’re forced to stand around for over half an hour now ...

And meanwhile Dean simply feels a lot of things, but mostly it’s relief and gratitude for things not turning out as bad as they could have been.

“Cas, honey,” Dean eventually cuts into Cas’ rambles, “what were you even doing in the kitchen in the first place? You’re a terrible cook.”

Cas pulls a face. “I’m not ‘terrible’.”

Dean chuckles as he leans a little closer. “Babe, I love you and you have a lot of amazing qualities, but cooking is not one of them. Remember Thanksgiving last year?”

Cas starts to squirm at the reminder. “I just forgot I had already salted the potatoes.”

“And so you salted them twice.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Dean smiles and doesn’t even give a damn that he probably looks inappropriately lovesick and dumb. After all, that’s what Cas is doing to him on a regular basis and he’s not ashamed to show it.

“Besides, I wasn’t cooking,” Cas picks up their earlier topic. “I was baking. And the pie turned out perfectly, thank you very much. You would have loved it.” He deflates a bit as he adds, “I just messed up with the oven’s timer somehow. So the pie ended as a piece of coal and the smoke …”

Triggered the alarm.

Sounds about right.

“Why were you even baking a pie on a Friday night anyway?” Dean can’t help wondering. “We could’ve baked one together on the weekend, if you’d have wanted to. Or we could’ve visited that cute little bakery around the corner and get ourselves some nice slices …”

Cas groans and buries his face in his palms again. “But it was supposed to be a surprise. For you.”

Dean already thought as much, yet his heart swells anyway. “Cas …”

“And I wanted to do it tonight before I would’ve lost my nerves or something,” Cas continues to rant. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. Months even. Hell, probably since the day I met you.” He scoffs. “And tonight I told myself to just do it. And I knew you wouldn’t appreciate grand gestures. Restaurants, candle light, flowers or even a frigging orchestra. That’s not you -- and frankly, that’s not me either.”

Dean can’t help a frown, wondering where the hell this rambling is even supposed to go.

“So I figured a homemade pie would be the best way,” Cas adds, not detecting the confusion on his boyfriend’s face. “A simple gesture, yet so powerful. I even got the recipe from your mother and she actually started to cry when I told her about my plan, so be prepared for that, you’ll probably get some teary phone calls tomorrow -- at least if everything goes according to plan -- well, not entirely according to plan because having the fire department showing up clearly wasn’t part of that -- I only aimed for the pie and the proposal and maybe some naked engagement activities afterwards, firefighters surely weren’t on the menu -- although, I have, of course, to confess that their uniforms are nice to look at and if you would ever consider borrowing one of these --”

While Cas continues to babble some nonsense, obviously a direct result of his nerves going downhill, Dean simply gapes at him with a slack jaw and a wildly hammering heart threatening to burst out of his ribcage.

Suddenly he’s aware of everything. Of Cas talking himself into a frenzy, of their neighbors suddenly leaning in interestedly, probably not having been aware of the reason of that little fire until now, of the firemen in the background barking orders, apparently ready to wrap everything up.

And just a second later Dean’s entire attention focuses on Cas alone.

“You … you …” His throat feels bone dry all of a sudden. “You wanted to propose?”

Dean feels like he’s been hit by a train. Granted, they’ve been together for about two years now and Dean pretty much knew Cas was it for him the first time he saw his gummy smile, they even talked about marriage a couple of times, particularly in the last few months, mostly jokingly about it and yet with a serious undertone, and still Dean feels completely unprepared for this.

“This is not how I pictured it to go,” Cas grumbles. “I got the pie and a ring in my sock drawer and an emotional speech, and instead now we’re sitting here, out in the cold, and I almost burned our apartment down, and all of our nosy neighbors are witnessing my failure --”

Dean doesn’t give him any more time to freak out as he presses his lips against Cas’ in the most sensual kiss of his life, happiness filling every inch of his being.

He had no idea how true joy felt until this very moment.

So when they eventually pull apart he beams at Cas and whispers against his lips, “Yes.”

Cas blinks, at first most likely wondering what Dean is even referring to, and it takes this wonderful idiot an embarrassingly long time to catch up.

“You’re saying yes?”

His voice is pure awe and wonder and Dean never loved him more.

“Of course I’m saying yes,” Dean emphasizes. As if there ever could’ve been a different answer.

Cas, however, doesn’t seem to understand Dean’s train of thought. “But … but this was a terrible proposal. Horrible.”

Dean grins. “It was perfect.”

Cas shakes his head. “But … the fire … the lost pie …”

“Cas, it’s you,” Dean states. “That’s all that matters. You could’ve asked me while sitting on the freaking toilet and I would’ve said yes.”

Anywhere.

Anytime.

There’s not a single doubt in Dean’s mind. This is it.

Just like he knew two years ago when Cas smiled at him for the first time.

“But … but …” Cas seems a bit lost, obviously highly overwhelmed that nothing went as scheduled. “I technically didn’t even ask you yet.”

Dean laughs, loud and happy. “Then hurry up, you moron. I can’t wait to be engaged.”

For a moment it appears Cas wants to argue some more, but then his features soften impossibly and he breathes, “Dean, will you marry me?”

Dean kisses him again, whispering “yes, yes, yes” into his mouth, feeling elated and giddy beyond words, and he doesn’t even give a crap as he suddenly hears enthusiastic cheering from behind him and their next door neighbor Mildred muttering, “Well, now I’m not even mad I missed my soap opera. This is way better.”

Dean actually has to agree with her on that one.

So when some time later they’re finally back in their apartment and Dean gets his ring at last which is immediately followed by the naked engagement activities Cas had been hoping for, Dean just knows he’s the luckiest guy alive.

Because he has an awesome fiancé in his arms, a silver band on his finger and a smoky kitchen.

Sounds perfect to him.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers IX (Josh Wheeler xReader)

 A/N: Friendship is cool but it gets you in a lot of trouble. Also, Happy Christmas’ Eve!!!

Words: 4,339

Warnings: Blood, cursing and weird outfits 

Previous chapter // Next chapter

“Y/N, can I ask you a question without making you mad?”

“I don’t know Josh, you’ll have to ask me the question first”

“Why are you still wearing that?”

I look down at my clothes and laugh.

“I forgot,” I look at my reflection on the closest glass and examine the torn shirt that covers my body.

“So it wasn’t a fashion statement?” Asks Josh with a smirk.

“Sadly no,” I stand up and stretch my arms, yawning, “I think it’s time I get a new outfit.”

“You’re finally changing your resident evil cosplay?” Wesley walks by me, eyeing me up, Josh laughs.

“Don’t be mean,” I stick out my tongue, “I’d rock a resident evil cosplay”

“I don’t doubt it,” He raises his hands, “go nuts”

Wesley points towards the stores and I happily comply.

“You want us to go with you?” Josh raises his voice, following me with his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, you guys stay”

As I’m walking away I hear Wesley talking to Josh.

“We should practice our sword skills”

“Dude, yes!” Josh answers.

I chuckle lowly and head straight into my favorite store. 

It’s been a while since I got new clothes for myself; being alone is okay I guess, but it’s nice to be able to calmly pick an outfit without worrying about being attacked. 

I also get to pick something that will match my skates no matter what. You know when you have a specific favorite outfit that you wanna wear all the time but is not socially acceptable to do so cause then people will think you don’t shower? Well, now those rules don’t apply anymore cause everyone wears the same clothes all the time and it’s a known fact that we don’t shower. 

With that in mind, I pick the stuff that makes me the happiest and put them on. When I look in the mirror I feel amazing, and I take it as a sign that I have finally found my outfit.

“Y/N, we prepared a whole obstacle course, come see it!” 

“You wanna see my new outfit?” I ask excitedly from the changing rooms.

“Sure!” Josh replies, walking in, “Where are you?”

“Turn around and I’ll come out!” I drag the curtain and walk out towards him, I’m pleased to see he followed my instructions and is facing the entrance, “You can look now!”

He turns around and I show my outfit with my arms extended.

“So?”

“That’s a... are those short overalls?” He examines them carefully.

“Yes!” I smile wildly, “and a lime-green shirt. With fun socks,” I raise my eyebrows, “get it? so I can match the skates you gave me”

“That’s, uh...”

“You don’t like it,” I lowered my arms, frowning, “Why?”

“It’s not that!” He quickly counters, “it’s just... well, your arms and legs are exposed and we live surrounded by things that bite.”

“Yes, but I have a hammer,” I say sternly.

Josh stares at me.

“A hammer won’t protect you from a horde.”

“Fair,” I agree, “but it’s not just my hammer. I have two samurais on my side, right? Either way, Ghoulie bites aren’t that dangerous.”

“They are if they rip your arms off”

“You’re exaggerating. I’ll be fine,” I walk past him, “you gonna train with Wesley or no?”

“Yeah but-”

“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” Wesley screams from the main hall.

“Going!” I scream back.

I found a bunch of tables with a small piñata, a watermelon and god knows what else spread around the place in order to make training harder. Wesley lets out an exclamation of approval when he sees me.

“Now, that’s a hundred percent Y/N-brand. You look good, girl!”

“Thanks! I feel good,” I smile at him, then look over at Josh, “See? Wesley gets it”

“I never said I didn’t like it...” He grumbles.

“We can talk about our fashion sense later. First, we train,” Demands our friend.

“Who’s first?” I ask, leaning against a column far from the obstacle course.

“Let me show you how real warriors do it...” 

Josh and I look at each other wondering what will Wesley do to try to impress us. When he kneels on the floor and bows to his sword, we have to look away so we don’t start laughing.

But don’t worry, our laughter dies as soon as he does the wildest moves ever, totally not humiliating us in every possible way. 

When he fixes his posture and takes off his mask, he vaguely points towards the mess and then to Josh.

“So, clean this shit up and, uh, your turn,” He smiles. 

“What?” Josh asks in pure outraged. I laugh and he looks at me with a bitter smile, “oh, don’t get so amused. You’re helping me.”

“What?” Now is my time to be scandalized, “Why?”

He shows me his injured hand and smirks.

“Cause I'm a disabled person in recovery.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how this works,” I frown, “but I’ll help you anyway, cause I don’t want you to cut another of your little fingers by accident”

“How nice of you,” He mocks.

It takes us about ten minutes to replace and arrange everything. When we’re done I sit next Wesley, arms crossed and a knowing smile on my face.

“Just do your best, Wheeler. Try not to fall over innocent people, please.” 

“Very funny, L/N,” Josh sneers.

When it’s his turn to train, Josh does... his best. I managed to remain silent for most of it until he hits the mannequin and the only thing he cuts it’s the finger. 

“Oh my god,” I cover my mouth and stifle most of my laughter. Wesley stands up and looks at the result.

“Wow, that is... ironic.”

“It’s...” I say between laughs, “it’s so sad...”

“Dude, I’m a terrible swordsman. Especially with only one good hand,” Josh replies.

“You are in good company,” Wesley retorts in an attempt to calm him down, “Skywalker, Furiosa... Jaime Lannister, if you can get past the child-killing, incest, rape.”

“Meh,” I squint my eyes, “I think you should stick to Skywalker.”

Wesley shakes his head and mouths something that looks like ‘not now’, so I stay silent as he continues his speech.

“Hands gives us identity. Chefs cut, artist paint, warriors... warrior.”

That’s definitely not how you call it, but uh, that’s not the point, right?

“All good Jedi lose a hand.”

“I couldn’t even get that right!” Josh replies with annoyance, holding his hand up.

He leans against the column and falls slowly to the ground, it’s quite a miserable sight. I stand up and walk over to sit next Josh, I pat his back softly as a way of comfort.

“You know what I love about right now?” Asks Wesley, “we are free. We can do anything!”

Josh looks at me and I know he’s thinking about the story I told him yesterday. 

“I couldn’t pull off those pants,” He offers, discretely changing the subject, “you and Y/N could wear anything and still look good. I can’t, so I’m not that free.”

Wesley looks down at his clothes.

“No. No, you cannot. But is not about having cool shit, it’s about being cool as shit,” He slowly makes his way to us, “you define yourself. Who are you?”

This is getting real way too fast. 

Who am I? Besides the weirdo with a fixation for the lime-green. I told you this before, there’s a reason why I never joined any tribe. I clearly don’t have a thing. If I don’t have a thing, then why am I still here? What am I supposed to be doing?

“I’m oni samurai, when I get done with my quest and find redemption, they will write songs about me.”

“Who?” I ask, bewildered, “the fairies in your head?”

Josh stands up suddenly, getting face to face with Wesley.

“Look, I couldn’t save Sam’s life. I have to avenge her death,” I stand up as well, hearing attentively, “those scratches on her body were made with a butcher’s knife. I’ve only seen one douche with a weapon like that.”

And before he says it, I already know what he’s planning to do.

“I’m gonna kill Baron Triumph,” He leans over and speaks on Wesley’s ear, “I’m gonna kill Jayden Hoyles.”

Oh, poor stupid, love-sick Josh.

I know, judging by Wesley’s face, that this took an unexpected turn for him. For me? Well, I can’t say I knew exactly what Josh had in mind, but I figured he wouldn’t just stay here and cry for the rest of his life. He’s got hero-complex. Which, unfortunately, is gonna get him killed.

But it’s good to know that I’m not the only one looking for redemption now, whatever it was Wesley did and Josh’s burden are now on the line. Maybe that could be our thing? The tribe of regrets. The redemption circle. The I-can’t-stop-fucking-things-up club. No? Meh, I’ll find the right name eventually.

I follow Josh towards one of the stores. He’s in a bad mood.

“Josh-”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” He interrupts me, “I need to do this.” 

“I wasn’t going to stop you,” I reply.

“You weren’t?” He stops, turning completely this time, “Why?”

“You want me to stop you?” I raise a brow, “Cause I can do that too if you want.”

“No, I mean... I don’t know, I thought you’d be upset about this. See it as a way of holding on to something that won’t bring anything good.”

“I do think that you’re closer to get killed with this plan and I do believe that killing Hoyles won’t make you feel better. The difference is that I don’t follow any samurai rules, so I don’t think it’ll bring you bad karma or whatever. It’s your life, you decide.”

“Okay,” He has an odd expression. I can’t tell if he’s suspicious or curious, either way, it makes me feel nervous, “then you could help me?”

“To kill him?” I tense, “What, just because I killed once it means I can do it again?”

“No,” He rolls his eyes, “I’ve killed Ghoulies too, and I don’t judge you for what happened with your sister. You did what you had to do.”

“So..?”

“I was going to ask if you could help me find a new weapon... or hand”

“What?” I giggle, then I see him ready to get all defensive and I stop, “Sorry, what do you have in mind?”

And he pulls a list out of his pocket, like the dork he is.

“I have a few ideas...”

“We can try them,” I nod, “I’ll put on my skates so I can help you get the stuff faster.”

“Sure, I’ll be here, analyzing my list,” He lowers his eyes towards the paper, excitedly reading all he wrote.

I snort, walking away.

“You’re too cute, Wheeler.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I said that out loud, didn’t I? 

Well, now I can’t turn around to see if he heard me, god I hope he didn’t. If he did that means he’ll start to get suspicious and I don’t wanna ruin another friendship. Besides, I don’t like Josh that way. I don’t.

We’re friends. I just gained a friend (several, actually), I won’t ruin it just cause I think he has pretty eyes. I told Angelica that I won’t be playing her games and I’m too stubborn to admit she may have a point. Also, am I forgetting that Sam just died? This isn’t exactly what I would call perfect timing.

Josh is focused on his work when I go back and I’m too nervous to talk to him, still thinking about how he might have heard my not so subtle compliment.

What is wrong with me? I never had this issue with Alex, he was easy. I mean, we also knew each other since we were six so I guess that’d have influenced the way I perceived my behavior around him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh, yes?” I jump, “sorry, what did you say?”

“You spaced out,” He says with a small smile, “you didn’t listen a thing did you?”

“No,” I give him an awkward smile, “I got lost in my own head. I’m here now though, tell me what you need.”

“What do you think?” He points to every item on the table, “You see something that fits my... uh, whatever Wesley said I should have?”

I slide closer, examining all the stuff.

“You understood what Wesley was saying?”

“Yes... no. I don’t know. I get that he’s trying to convince me that life can be better without revenge, I guess?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know what he was trying to say,” I mumble, “all I know is that I have no clue of who I am. The apocalypse kind of fucked up my identity.”

“Well, who were you before?” He steps closer, carefully grabbing the glove with blades and trying it on.

“The artsy girl, according to my friend Maya,” I reply, a bit self-conscious, “I wasn’t that good if I’m honest but you know, if my friends ever needed to draw something for their projects or if they were looking for some new not-so-famous band to listen to, they’d give me a call.”

“So you were the ‘not-like-the-other-girls’ girl?” He smirks.

“Ugh, that is misconceiving,” I scoff, “every girl is their own person, we’re all the same. Just like the guys, and humans in general. We just have different likings, I really liked all kinds of art before, that’s all”

“Okay,” He takes a minute to think about it, “you’re right, there’s no tribe for that.”

“And it’s not like I could use my drawings to defend myself,” I grin.

“Well, the disciples of the Kardashian aren’t exactly trained warriors.”

“Maybe,” I help him take off the glove, “but there’s more than one, they share one specific trait. The jocks protect them of course, they don’t need to know how to defend themselves, I do. I have no one.”

“You have me now,” He replies promptly, “Uh, I mean us. You have us. We can protect you and you can go back to being the artsy girl.”

“To be honest, going back to that would be dull,” I squint, “I know I said I wanted my old life but that’d only work in the old world. I can’t be who I was, so I have to find a way to be a new version of myself, meaning I’ll have to use my creative instincts in something else.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Josh answers, grabbing a knife and weighing it, “your thing and mine. We have time.”

“That, if you survive to Hoyles,” I say subtly, “cause if not then we don’t have time at all. Or... if you wait a bit longer before going after Triumph, maybe we’ll have it...”

“Ah, there it is,” Josh has a smug smile when he leans towards me, “that is how you’re trying to convince me about not doing this?”

“Is it working?” I get closer as well, grinning.

“Almost,” He sighs, “but not enough, I’m still going. The only thing that could stop me from going is if I don’t find something to help me with my bad hand, which seems more likely than not.”

“I tried my best,” My foot accidentally kicks a mannequin’s hand and something comes to my mind, “hey, we have one more item (not listed) that you can try on for your new look. Who knows? Maybe it’ll bring you good luck.”

“What is it?” He curiously looks around the table.

“Here,” I pick up the hand and show it to him.

“Y/N,” He gives me a stern look, “tell me you’re joking.”

“What? We don't have functional prosthetics laying around, that is the closest thing you can get,” I put a hand on my hip, “you know is your best choice. You’ll get used to it. Adapt and survive, man.”

“Fine,” He sighs, “but I’m not obligated to use it if I don’t like how it looks.”

“Sure,” I agree, “it’s your body.”

I sit next to the table while he goes to a changing room. I hear him break the hand and I hope he didn’t screw up the fingers. Not that we can’t get more if that’s the case, but you know, time is not something we have to spare.

Wesley enters and sees the bunch of weird things we’ve come up with.

“Okay,” He nods, “yeah, hell yeah! This is what I’m talking about, brother! You define yourself. Come out here and show me your new killer digits.”

Josh pulls the curtain and walks out from the changing room with the white, plastic finger tied to his hand. Wesley and I laugh.

“Nice figure, Kim Cattrall,” He notices neither Josh or I get the joke, and he continues, “because she was a mannequin.”

We stay quiet.

“In the movie mannequin?” I shake my head without saying a word, “about a mannequin who comes to life? They made a sequel with Kristy Swanson, the orig Buffy the vampire slayer...”

Josh walks out of the store, showing Wesley his middle finger.

“I can’t tell if that means he liked it,” I mention, standing up next to Wesley, “but I take that he won’t waste more time on this?”

“Okay,” Wesley sighs, “let’s go hunt Baron Triumph.”

The sound my skates make against the gravel is like music to my ears. I had missed this, the outside. As dangerous as it is, it gives me the liberty that no safe haven ever could. I know these streets like the back of my hand, I got this.

Maybe I enjoy myself a bit too much, skating around and humming an old song I haven’t heard in a while when I realize Josh is staring. I immediately stop what I’m doing.

“Sorry, I should be quiet,” I look away, limiting myself to just skate beside my friends.

“No, it’s okay,” He says, “I wasn’t- I was staring but I... it seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I shouldn’t,” I reply, “this is not a fun trip, I’ll stop.”

“I...” Josh is about to say something when Wesley speaks up.

“Hey, look at this!” He picks up something from the street, “second left molar, nice craftsmanship on the porcelain ceramic filling...”

“Your dad taught you a lot,” says Josh.

“A thing or two.” 

“It was knocked off by Triumph.”

Wesley turns around and looks at Josh with a sly smile.

“You don’t know that.”

“I only know one dude in school with a size fourteen shoe... cause I licked it.”

We look down at the mud and see the footprint that Josh is pointing to us.

“Hoyles,” whispers Wesley.

“He went east, toward San Fernando,” Mentions Josh.

“You’re like a Canadian Wolverine,” Replies Wesley in amazement.

“More like Deadpool,” I correct, “’cause the katana..?”

“Wolverine is a Canadian Wolverine,” Josh shakes his head, “can we focus right now? Look, I hunted elk every summer...”

He starts to walk away, but Wesley keeps talking.

“Your dad taught you a lot.”

Josh stops only to answer.

“A thing or two,” He smirks.

“You can track. But you can’t fight.”

“Here we go,” I roll my eyes, moving away from their discussion to look for more clues.

I don’t pay much attention to what they’re saying while I turn my back to them and analyze the footprint. Josh is right, it’s heading towards the industrial section. I know the old Hoyles’ cereal fabric is there, maybe we should take a look and see what we find... 

“Run!” I turn around abruptly, raising the hammer above my head. I see Wesley sprinting towards the other side of the street, Josh gives me one panicky look before looking behind us in confusion.

“What?”

“Run!”

“Okay!” Josh runs after him with me close behind them.

We run around town like maniacs, I have the hammer ready but I don’t actually see any danger, so my fear isn’t growing but I’m not calm either. At some point, a couple of Ghoulies start to chase Josh and for some reason Wesley doesn’t let me help him. We wait until Josh gets rid of them and we go back to the running. My skates are going fast, soon enough I leave them behind and I hear Wesley scream:

“Get under the car!”

I stop harshly and skid without being able to control my movements. I trip falling on one knee and my legs and arms get a few scratches. My hammer flies like four feet away from me.

“Y/N!” Josh tries to go over to me but Wesley grabs his ankle, already under the vehicle.

“They’re coming!”

“Dude, I don’t see anybody!” He complains, obeying against his own will.

In the few seconds that takes me to stand up again, Wesley and Josh are already getting out from under the car.

“Let’s go! Go! Go! Go!”

“Wes, I’mma smash your knees with my- Where’s my hammer?” I look around frantically until Josh touches my shoulder lightly.

“Here,” He gives me the tool and I thank him silently, rushing over so we catch up with Wes.

“Wesley!” I scream after spending five more minutes running, “Stop! I think I hurt my knee when I fell, shit...”

Josh stops immediately after hearing what I said and looks over my shoulder, frowning.

“Dude,” He stops Wesley, “what the hell? Dude, there’s nobody after us. And now Y/N got hurt, look at her knee!”

I look down and I yelp at the sight. My knee is bleeding, swollen, and one of my hands is pulsating in a way that makes me think I might not be fine to continue.

“I think I can fix it,” I groan, gently touching my scratches.

“I had the Baron’s trail and now I’m all lost. Why did you do that?” Josh inquires.

Wesley seems to struggle to find a proper answer when we hear the engine of a car coming closer. Soon the golf team appears, annoying as ever.

“Great,” I grab the hammer from beside me and prepare to fight.

“Remember us, just Josh?”

“I remember there being more of you,” He retorts.

“We’re downsizing”

“Yeah, but not by choice, by circumstance.”

“The circumstance being death.”

“We’re currently taking applications for new membership.”

“Oh,” Replies Josh, “not interested.”

“Not talking to you,” complains Barry, “we’ll deal with you next. Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, Barry,” I sigh tiredly, “how’s your wrist?”

I know them, of course. The golf team was like the lowest of them all, they weren’t so bad, only terribly stupid. During my time with the Jocks, I did some stuff for them as well, small things like collecting their balls and keeping their golf sticks clean and ready to use... I hate talking about golf cause it always sounds like I’m talking about sex.

“Better, thank you. I see you got a bad knee, I can get you an ointment for that.”

“No thanks, I’ll manage”

“What say you Fists?”

“You ready to come home?” Asks the other... is it Larry? They all have similar names, I can’t bring myself to remember, “listen to fate: Gary, Larry, Barry... Wesley”

“It doesn’t fit the line,” mumbles Barry.

“There’s a ‘y’ at the end” He replies.

“Meh, it’s kind of a stretch,” adds... Gary? I’m pretty sure it’s Gary.

“Close enough for Armageddon. Three is not a team, four can play spades.”

“Just because you have balls, doesn’t make golf a sport.”

It is, though. But I won’t say that right now.

“Gotta start somewhere to earn your way back into his good graces...”

A second car appears, this time on the other side. We’re face to face with Turbo. My wrist is killing me but I lift the hammer again, this time looking at the other side of the alley.

“Not gonna lie,�� I say, “I’m starting to regret this”

“Tell me about it,” Whispers Wesley.

Turbo steps out of the car and growls. He does that a lot. As a matter of fact, it’s the only thing he does now. Wesley understands perfectly so he translates all that into a petition to fight to the death, only Josh and him, no weapons.

“You got all that from a look?”

“I speak Turbo.”

“What did I even do?” Asks Josh.

“Besides making all the wrong choices?” I ask.

“He said he doesn’t like to lose.”

“This isn’t Mario Kart! You tried to capture us, we got away”

“Wait, that was all?” I frown, “Turbo is chasing you because you won in a tag-you’re-it game?”

“He’s sensitive about this stuff,” explains Wesley.

“More like a fucking baby,” I reply.

Turbo grunts. Josh steps forward.

“Who cares?! God, this is... there is no your side or my side. Hoyles is out there trying to kill all sides. He’s killed out friends...”

“I’ll be your friend!” A small, mechanical voice replies behind us, “I love you. Let’s be besties!”

“What the fuck...” I mutter.

Larry picks it up and says he knows those bears, something tells me he’s in danger.

“That’s pretty. Put it down,” I urge him.

“They had their names stitched on their butts. What’s your name, guy?”

“I’m pretty sure he can’t answer that,” I insist, “Wesley that’s not a good sign, we need to leave.”

He nods and opens his mouth, but when Larry turns the bear around something catches our eye.

“Larry put the bear down!”

The explosion makes us fly and fall hard on the ground, disoriented and stunned. I hear screams and rushed steps around us, I open my eyes with difficulty and I see Josh’s body a few feet away from mine. 

All I do before passing out is watch as the figure of Baron Triumph walks out of the dusty cloud.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @hollywaterpls​

[jjkfire]

me: bro don’t do it. don’t start another fic that you won’t finish. ok but imagine e2l jungkook

(don’t click if u hate unfinished fics)

jungkook // enemies to lovers // 3k words

With the rain pouring down outside, you hum delightedly as you bite into your juicy chicken sandwich that you had lathered in honey mustard. Sure, it wasn’t particularly healthy, but you could care less about that, especially when it’s 9 pm and you had just gotten off work. Not to mention the fact that you’re completely drenched seeing as you had forgotten to look at the weather app, again. At this point, you could care less. To be quite honest, you’ve become numb to everything. You guess that’s just what being another cog in the capitalist machine does to you.

It’s been over a year since you moved to the big city for a job. At the start you were a bright-eyed college graduate, ready to take on the world. Now, you’re just a shell of a human being, and one of the only things that can bring you joy is the very chicken sandwich you’re feasting on.

You like this place at this time of the night. It’s not as busy, just the soft chatter of some of the customers or rather the collective munching of all the other people who just got off work, feeling and looking exactly like you. The standing bar by the window is where all the tired, beaten down employees find solace with earphones plugged in and glazed over eyes looking out into the streets ahead. That’s your routine and just like any other night, you’re doing the same. Slowly chewing, as your mind drifts off somewhere, the music playing in your ears barely registering.

Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You see a semblance of a figure standing in front of you on the other side of the window pane, but you’ve encountered enough oddballs in all your trips to this store that you’ve learnt to ignore anyone that stands in front of the window. Most times, it’s some crazy guy, going on some rant, expecting you to care. Your eyes only refocus when the person next to you taps you on the shoulder and directs your attention to the man waving wildly in front of you. You squint, trying to make out the person’s face through the rain, but by then the person has moved on, disappeared. You only shrug at the person who tapped your shoulder, turning your attention back to your sandwich instead.

“Y/N?”

It’s soft, but you think you hear someone calling your name over the music.

“Y/N!”

You pull out your earphones, head whipping around just to make sure you weren’t going crazy and oh god, when your eyes meet his, you sure hope this is just a fever dream.

“Christ, it’s like you’re on a different planet. I’ve never had to work so hard to get someone’s attention before,” The boy in front of you says as he wipes his rain-soaked face with a paper napkin.

“Jungkook?” You mumble, confused, staring at him with your mouth hanging half opened. What was he doing here and more importantly what was he doing here talking to you?

“Yes, sweetheart,” He smiles. “Keep looking at me like that and I might get the wrong idea,” He smirks.

God, he hasn’t changed at all.

“How is it possible that every time I see you, your ego is just 5 times the size it was before?” You question. “How do you manage to find space to keep it in that tiny brain of yours?”

“Easy,” He grins. “I store it in a bigger organ,” He directs your attention simply with his eyes, looking down towards his nether region.

You swear you almost throw up in your mouth. You simply shake your head at him, placing your earphones back in your ears before you turn towards what mattered the most. Your chicken sandwich.

“Oh come on,” Jungkook chuckles, yanking your earphones out. You absolutely hated it when people do that. “That’s no way to treat an old friend. Why the cold shoulder?”

“In what universe were we ever friends?” You ask. “Acquaintances maybe, but never friends.”

“Ah, that hurt,” He groans, clutching his chest. “You mean you don’t consider all the times I chased you around school with worms in my hands, quality time with a friend?”

“No,” You answer, with a curt smile. “And just in case you’re wondering, activities such as yanking my hair, putting tadpoles in my water and double knotting my shoelaces together under the table are also other events I don’t consider quality time with a friend.”

“Shame,” The boy pouts. “I really thought we were the best of friends.”

You roll your eyes at him, though a hint of a smile shows.

Jungkook, truly and genuinely is nothing more than an acquaintance… even if, both your parents wish otherwise. See, the two of you attended the same primary school and that’s how your mother had met his. After yet another torturous day at school with Jungkook attempting to put a live frog in your bag, you had ran up to your mother in tears. She assured you that she was going to have a stern talk with this Jungkook boy. She stepped up, ready to give the boy a piece of her mind when Jungkook’s mother stormed right up, ready to fight. It was hostile at first but soon enough the mothers were laughing together. Wait. This wasn’t what you wanted. After a lengthy chat, one that basically had both you and Jungkook ready to take a nap right on the bench the two of you had been sitting on, you heard your mother making plans to have tea with his mother one day. Hold on. You definitely didn’t want that. Yet, it happened. Jungkook never got reprimanded for trying to put a live frog in your bag and as your mother became friends with his mother, and later, best friends, Jungkook would soon earn a pass to play whatever heinous prank he wanted on you. Oh, but that meant so did you and so began the war between you and Jungkook.

Though you’ll agree that you weren’t quite as creative as Jungkook when it came to coming up with disgusting pranks, you could hurt him in different ways. See, Jungkook wasn’t the most studious kid and he was abysmal at math. You’ve seen him try to hide his report card many times, yet somehow or the rather, courtesy of you, it would end up straight in his mother’s hands. Oh, you still remember the way he would look at you. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead and buried 50 times over. In any case, whatever amount of nagging Jungkook got wasn’t your problem. If he wanted it to stop, he should spend less time collecting tadpoles and more time studying.

Your war with Jungkook continued on until you were 12. By then, you had many battle scars. You’ve had gum stuck in your hair, had your shoes dipped in sewage water, your textbook put up onto the ceiling fan, among many other seemingly ‘harmless’ pranks that your mother would shrug off. If you had to go on living like this, there’s no telling what you would do to the boy. Luckily, as the year came to a close, and all the students got their results from the national test, you receive the best news you’ve ever heard. You had almost leaped with joy when Jungkook’s mother told you which school was bound for, it was the one just a few streets away, while you, you had gotten into a private school in the neighbouring district considering that you had passed the test with flying colours.

So began the ceasefire between you and Jungkook, or so you thought.

Granted, life was better now that you didn’t see Jungkook every day but that didn’t mean he was out of your life forever. Perhaps, you thought now that you and Jungkook were at different schools, your mothers wouldn’t be close considering they didn’t get to catchup every time they picked the both of you up from school. Oh, how wrong you were. Not only did your mothers stay friends, but soon enough, your fathers became golfing buddies too. Great. Just wonderful.

The worst part about having your fathers become golfing buddies was the fact that they would have these huge get togethers with all the other golfers and their families. They were quarterly events and though the adults had great fun with their booze and chit-chat, it was almost always awkward for the kids. All the kids would be lumped together in multiple ‘kids tables’ and everyone would just sit and stare at each other, trying to make small talk. Though you hated it, the food was almost always amazing and even if you had to be seated next to Jungkook, you didn’t mind because that meant his brother was never too far away.

You’ve had a crush on his brother, Junghoon, for as long as you can remember. Sure, he was four years older but he was everything Jungkook wasn’t. He was nice, sweet and best of all, he never tried putting tadpoles into your drink, or sticking gum in your hair. In fact, you think he’s the only one that listens to you and tells Jungkook off for misbehaving. He was an angel, your saving grace, the boy you would forever be in love with. Jungkook tells you that you’re wasting your time, that his brother has been dating the same girl since he was 11 and he was 17 now. Just because there’s a goalkeeper in front of a goal, doesn’t mean you couldn’t score, you would remind him.

So, that’s how those quarterly dinners went. You dreamily conversing with his older brother while Jungkook made his moves on all the girls in the room. That is, until Junghoon started bringing his girlfriend to the events. Now, you had to sit there and watch them act all lovey-dovey while you were stuck next to Jungkook. Wonderful. Of course, it was of no help that puberty seemed to hit Jungkook like a train. He went from looking lanky and shabby to… hot. As much as you hated the boy, you couldn’t deny that he was plain attractive. If anything, the girls at the dinners, constantly trying to talk and flirt with him was a glaring reminder of how good looking he’d become. It wasn’t like you were staring but he had a well-built chest, solid thighs and of course his face that bordered between cute and straight up sultry depending on how he styled his hair. Towards the later years, he started leaning away from his favourite bowl cut, which meant it started getting harder to pretend that you most definitely thought he was handsome and if he wasn’t the Jungkook that you knew, you’d be like any one of the other girls trying to strike up a conversation with him.

Despite it all, you still looked forward to the dinners because of the delicious food, and perhaps also because you and Jungkook would sneak towards the table at the back where the bottles of wine and hard liquor were placed, often stealing a sip or two when no one was looking. As the years went by, the two of you got bolder, both pouring yourselves a generous serving of whiskey and of course pouring in some coke after that to make it seem like you were good little kids, sipping on soda. Though from afar, it may seem like you and Jungkook were friends, you were adamant that the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances. It wasn’t very easy to convince people because he often posted up pictures of the two of you. He usually looked great in them meanwhile he usually caught you while you’re placing your spoon into your mouth, or while you’re in the midst of sneezing. It was deliberate of course and you had expected nothing less from Jeon Jungkook.

Though Jungkook and you didn’t share the same circle of friends, most of your classmates knew him. With a face like that, of course they did. Of course, the fact that he was exceptional at sports didn’t help. He’d gotten close to some of your friends when he would meet them at sports meets. All the schools in the same district would often duke it out before moving on to the next level, and the next until they reached the state level and finally, nationals. Jungkook got as far as the state level when it came to swimming. Honestly, he had the talent to go all the way, but he was always too busy trying to chat up girls instead of trying to best his own record. In fact, you think he only decided to be a swimmer because he could post pictures of himself in that itty-bitty swimming costume and get all the girls to swoon. Also, yes, you’ve been forced to attend his swim meets, usually at the request of his mother and god, it was torture trying to pretend like you weren’t staring at the boy half the time. You just had to admit that you loved the fact that he had that V-line. God, what you’d give if you could just run your finger along— no, never mind, thoughts like that weren’t meant to be wasted on boys like him.

Many times, you’ve had girls in your school come up to ask you if you could perhaps introduce him to them. You would often say no, but that you could give them the next best thing and that is his number. Can’t you at least only give my number to the hot ones? Jungkook would ask you when he saw you at the quarterly dinners. You would tell him that each time you gave out his number was only revenge for each tadpole he had put into your water bottle back in primary school. God, you’re so petty, he would groan. He promised he’d get his revenge on you too.

As high school rolled on to college, Jungkook had learnt that mentioning your name to his mother gave him the all good sign to go hang out until whatever time he wanted. If my mum calls, just tell her I’m with you, he would say. Truth is, the two of you really would be together, except on the opposite end of the same club. So, you’d oblige when he would ask you to pose for a picture together. In fact, you needed to send one to your mother too because you had told her the same lie, that you’d be hanging out with Jungkook for the night. The two of you usually staged the photo, walking to a nearby restaurant, to sit down and snap a picture before heading to the club.

Back at the club, the two of you were truly acquaintances at best. A rare smile, an even rarer few shared sentences and that was it. Of course, barring the times Jungkook would send his friends your way for a neat little prank. You had caught on pretty quick though. Anytime, a boy would approach you, your go to sentence would be, if Jungkook sent you then sure, I’d give you my number but only if we split whatever it is he’s giving you. So that’s how you ended up with a few extra ten dollar bills by the end of the month. Even so, it started getting annoying, so of course, you had gone up to tell Jungkook that you’ve had enough. At that he only scoffed before telling you that each time he sent a boy your way was only revenge for all the times you had given out his number. He promised that unlike you he only sent the good-looking boys your way… because it looked like you could use a good lay. Oh, you wanted to strangle him right there and then.

After that, you got smart. You told any of the boys that came your way that you were willing to pay double of whatever Jungkook was paying if they would kick him in the balls for you. Turns out boys aren’t quite loyal and after being assaulted a few too many times, Jungkook learns to stop sending boys your way. You thought that would be the end of it, that you would be able to enjoy your nights in peace but You should’ve known better. Jungkook was hard to miss at the club. He was loud, obnoxious, and god, did he look good in a button down. If anyone looked closely, they would’ve mistaken you for any other girl, almost drooling as you watched him sip from his whiskey glass, seated on the couch with his legs spread out. He would wink in your direction, as if inviting you take a seat. Fuck, what you’d give to do just that. To grind down on him and put your hands on his broad chests that you— no, wait, thoughts like these really shouldn’t be wasted on boys like Jungkook. Of course, your mind would never really listen, so you would find one of his friends instead, giving Jungkook a full view of what could have been if he wasn’t such a dickhead.

Ignoring Jungkook was a tough task, really, and honestly if he tried anything more than harmless flirting with you, you think you would end up under him in less than a second. Which of course, is bad news. You truly had no self-control when it came to handsome men, but to be fair… look at him. Would any sane person say no? However, fortunately for you, you would get your one and only true, clean break from Jungkook. University. The two of you had gone to universities on opposite coasts and so, the two of you hadn’t seen each other in three good years. You had spent your breaks volunteering and travelling and it seemed so did Jungkook. Whenever the two of you went back home, one of you would have already left. Of course, you still knew what he was up to. It seemed like he was getting even more attention in university. It shouldn’t surprise you. Being on a university campus meant everyone was your age and equally as horny, so of course he was having fun. To be fair, so were you. In any case, you think whatever lingering attraction or rather lust you felt for the boy, had long died away. Yes, that is what you thought… until of course you find Jungkook standing in front of you after four long years of not seeing him and against all laws of nature, it seems like puberty had hit him a second time. That or your dry spell was just really starting to get to you. You reasoned that you would be okay, that this would be the one and only time you and him would run into each other in a city so big, but no, you would run into him time and time again. Then he would convince you to do something so stupid, that you believe the only explanation to you saying yes was that you were possessed. That’s the only way to think about it… because why else would one say yes to sharing a studio apartment with the devil incarnate, Jeon Jungkook himself?

click for some more secret sauce (aka my collection of unfinished fics bc i have no self control)

[dragonhrte]

Destiny? Chapter Four: Anywhere But Here

 Author's Note

This is one of my first fan fiction series. Also dark/ angsty themes, there's a lot of crap that goes down. Thank you so much for giving this work a read! Quick disclaimer, for all intents and purposes MHA/BNHA are not mine they do not belong to me. The manga and anime have inspired me to write this fiction and dialogue as well as events are given credit to the beautiful people who have blessed us with this series. Aside from standard story line events this work is mine.

Word Count: 1,834

Please note that

*abc* is a sound effect

'abc' is internal thoughts of whomever

"abc" is dialogue

(abc) is a side note from yours truly ;)

~Love, DragonHearte

I approach the school's gates the next day, or where the gates are supposed to be. There's a swarm of people surrounding them though, it'll be hard to get through. I wonder, 'What is all the excitement about?' I manage to push myself through to the gates. My attempt to break through the crowd was hindered by the elbows thrown and other people shoving through the mass of people. I pass by the currently occupied reporters, I'm in the homestretch when a reporter stops right in front of me, but to interview a different kid. I stand on my tip-toes and see, 'Oh, it's Bakugo.' I think to myself, pleasantly surprised to see him coming to school early. 'He seems the type to get to school late, he's got the whole delinquent vibe going on...' My thoughts are interrupted by the abrupt stop in what the reporter was asking. She then says, "You're the kid from the sludge villain incident!"

"BUZZ OFF!" is his response and storms away without answering her.

'The sludge villain incident? What could she possibly mean by that?' I have this tendency to look at my feet while I walk and think, so, I end up bumping into none other than the already ticked off Bakugo.

"Hey watch where you're walking!" He exclaims while continuing walking to the building.

"Sor-" The rest of the word dies on my lips as when I notice his presence is no longer there. I feel a flare of heat at my hip, and stare at his back for a second too long before continuing on my way to homeroom. I set my books down after getting to my seat, Mr. Aizawa jumps straight into things.

"I've seen the results from yesterday's exercise, grade-wise and All Might's evaluations. First off, Bakugo, you acted extremely childish, grow up."

Surprisingly, Bakugo responds with a simple and resigned, "Okay."

I raise my eyebrows at his tame response, it's been only two days since I've first encountered him, and even I can tell he was lacking in his usually explosive nature. I'm too caught up in my observation to hear what Mr. Aizawa said about Midoriya afterwards. Midoriya responds with a quick and determined, "Okay!"

Mr. Aizawa moves on and says, "We'll be voting on your class's president today."

All the kids in the class are jumping out of their seats and waving their hands wildly in the air. 'In my previous school, it was always a struggle to get students to volunteer for the class president role. Why's everyone so excited over such a normal classroom duty?' I think this to myself and turn to Midoriya who is also raising his hand and ask, "Why is everyone so excited to be elected to do something so boring?"

He says, "In normal schools, you would be right. But here, the class president gets to basically lead the class. Which paves the way for a top hero in the making."

A shout breaks through the chorus of voices, "Be quiet!"

Everyone stops their actions and turns to the source of the voice, Ida, who then says, "Since we are going to be voting in a Democratic fashion, it makes sense to also elect the class president through this method. Self-nominated individuals will be voted on through a ballot-like system. I propose anonymous votes as well."

"This is a classroom, not Congress!" Someone yells in response to Ida's statements.

Ida looks over at Mr. Aizawa and asks, "Will my proposal be accepted?"

Mr. Aizawa nods his head while getting into a yellow sleeping bag, the many bags under his eyes an indication of his ever-present exhaustion. "It doesn't matter to me how you figure it out among yourselves, as long as you decide before the period ends."

The class goes with Ida's idea, and the results are written on the board. The names and number of votes written side-by-side.

"I got three votes?" Midoriya says, clearly confused.

"I only got one vote?! Why did none of you extras vote for me?!" Bakugo exclaims, looking at the different members of his friend group. They respond to his question by avoiding eye contact, Kaminari can be heard saying loudly, "Wow, would you look at the tiles on the floor? They're so glossy. I can't seem to direct my attention towards anything but these super shiny tiles..."

A look of murder passes over Bakugo's face that seems to say, "Just wait until we're at the lunch table, you will hear an earful from me!"

Mr. Aizawa takes a look at the board and says, "Based on the votes, Midoriya will be class president with his three votes, and Yaoyorozu will be your class vice president with her two votes."

At lunch, I am sitting at the table in the corner. Still not alone, because the other classmates: Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido have chosen to invade my lonesome table. Bakugo storms over to us with his ever-present, sour expression on his face, and plops himself onto a seat at the table. I immediately lower my head, and look down at the food on my plate, as I push it around on my plate I look at him through my lashes. I quietly observe while Bakugo starts to give the rest of the group a piece of his mind.

They simply look at one another, silent conversations passing in mere glances at each other. After a few moments of silence, Sero turns pleading eyes to me and asks, "Did you vote for him Schaffer?"

I don't respond, instead I look up from my plate and I notice his eye twitch in annoyance, so I stick my tongue out at him in return. I watch as Bakugo's face twists into more than a tad-bit of annoyance, and then get up from the table to dump my trash in the garbage. On my way there I say to myself, 'I couldn't lie to them, but I also don't want to feed his already large ego.' I shake my head at my childish behavior, the same childish behavior I had just called Bakugo out on. I head back to the lunch table.

*Vree*

There are siren sounds going off and an announcement through the loudspeakers tells us there is a level 3 breach of security. All of the students start to panic and head for the hallways and any other available paths to an exit. I stand frozen in panic and confusion for a fraction of a second, and then weave through the jumble of students in the direction of Ida. 'He seems like a leader-type. The class listens to him, maybe he knows what's going on?' I think to myself and then yell out my question to Ida, "Do you have any idea as to what a level 3 breach of security is?"

When I reach him, he says, "An upperclassmen just informed me that it means someone has broken into the building. Which is a rare occurrence due to the barrier around the school."

I nod my head and stay close to him as we move with the ocean of bodies into the hallway. I mutter to myself, "We need to figure out who exactly is the cause of the breach, and get everyone's attention. If we can look through that window over there, someone could probably identify the perpetrator...." I look at Ida and say, "Do you think you can-"

"I heard what you were muttering to yourself, and yes."

I watch Ida as he lets the crowd direct him toward the window, with his face partially squished against the glass I barely hear him over the clamoring voices of the students as they try to exit the building.

"It's the press from this morning! They're on the lawn outside!"

*Vree*

Another cycle of the sirens can be heard throughout the school, a frantic student body ensues. We try to calm them down with the newfound knowledge, but no one's listening they're all too caught up in the nearly impossible breach in security. I yell to Ida, "They're not listening! We need to think of a way to draw their attention to you!"

"What do you have in mind?!"

I look around the hallway frantically, going through all the possible options and then I spot the exit sign above the door, and then I yell to Ida, "I have an idea! Can you find a way to get over there?"

I point to the exit sign above the door, Ida nods his head. He says something to Uraraka, who then extends her hand. When their hands touch, Ida kicks off the floor and is sent floating up in the air. He quickly reaches down to the bottom of his uniform pants and pulls them up and over his ... calves. There are engine-like exhausts coming out of his calves. He pushes himself towards the exit sign from off the wall and shouts something out. I watch with amazement as he soars through the air, somersaulting a few times before grabbing onto a pipe above the sign attached to the wall, I nod impressed at his execution of the plan. Ida turns to the mass of now confused students, and proceeds to tell them the whole situation. Everyone has calmed down at this point and we are able to return to our regularly scheduled class. The police were called and the reporters were driven away. Midoriya and Yaoyorozu are standing in the front of the class to lead in the selection of the other student council members. Midoriya, a bundle of nerves says, "Instead of picking the other members now, I would like to hand the role of class president over to Ida. He showed excellent leadership in a situation where it was needed most."

My classmates chime in, saying they agree with Midoriya. We all look over at Mr. Aizawa for confirmation, he stares blankly ahead and states, "Whatever you choose doesn't matter to me, as long as it gets taken care of today."

Ida stands up while looking over at me and pauses, Bakugo turns his head to look at me slightly, and trying to appear uninterested, but he's curious nonetheless.

Ida, with conflicting emotions on his face, says, "I will..." that's when I nod my head yes, paired with an encouraging smile. I know where he's going with this, he wants to me to give him permission to be class president. Even though it's only been a couple of days, I can tell Ida is very honor-bound. He doesn't think it's okay for him to take credit for my initial plan, but he also wants to be a leader. I mouth to him, "I don't want it, go ahead."

The other students start to give Ida words of encouragement, sensing a bit of hesitation at the end of his acceptance. I look over at Bakugo, he simply quirks his eyebrow up and turns his head to fully facing the front of the classroom again.

Chapter Five: Out There

[calucadu]

Baked Love

This is the piece I made for the @acidzine, a Mina Ashido Zine! You can download the zine for free here! It’s very pretty so check it out because Mina deserves more love 💗

I did a collab with Chie! This is her twitter and this is her Tumblr!

(I know I’m super late at uploading this, I’m very sorry)

Baked Love, a Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia One Shot.

Summary: Mina quickly placed the plate on the bed and embraced her in a tight hug. She wasn’t all that good with words, but she hoped that what she couldn’t tell her by talking, she could say by squeezing her with affection. It seemed to work as she felt her friend relax against her.“You’re wonderful. You’re the best. You’re all they want. Ever. Don’t ever think you’re not. You’ll always be the hero they need, Ochako.”Uraraka didn’t answer. She just buried her face into pink locks and inhaled.

Characters: Ashido Mina, Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka, Shouji Mezou, Satou Rikidou, Kaminari Denki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Sero Hanta, Midoriya Izuku.   

Rating: General Audiences

Read on AO3

Or read below the cut

It was a coincidence that Mina heard that phone call that day. But then again, Uraraka hadn’t exactly been hiding, probably too distracted by the incoming call to go to her room. She’d just walked over to the stairs and answered it. That’s why when the pink haired girl came down, she’d heard it all.

Mina was profoundly moved when she noticed just how upset Uraraka had seemed. She didn’t know what the conversation was about, or who’d called, but the pink haired girl decided she had to do something for her friend.

The first idea that popped into her head made her smile instantly and she hurried over to talk to Satou, to ask him for recipes. He seemed willing to help and led her to the kitchen, giving easy instructions and tips while they picked the ingredients they were going to use. Since the simple kitchen they shared at the dorms was unsurprisingly understocked, he kindly gave her some of his precious supplies. Mina promised she’d pay him back eventually.

He turned the oven on while she mixed the sugar and butter together under his careful supervision. When it was done to his satisfaction, she proceeded to beat in the eggs a little at a time. He helped by adding the flour and she did the milk, asking if the consistency seemed right. When that was ready, she got out the little pink paper sheets he’d given her and placed them neatly on the tray. He instructed her to fill them with the mix until they were half full.

Satou made sure the oven was warm enough before he asked Mina to put the tray inside. He turned the timer on but insisted they check on them regularly.

She nodded eagerly, happily picking up another bowl, this time for the icing. He started beating butter in it, humming to himself as he did. He asked Mina to pour in the icing sugar and he beat that in too. He let her give it a go when she asked, and he proceeded to add the last bit of the sugar in with some milk. The resulting mixture looked smooth, which made him feel happy. He also complimented her, handing her the pink food colouring she’d asked to borrow from him. She mixed it in, watching the icing turn a nice vibrant pink that was sure to make Uraraka cheer up in no time!

Satou spooned the icing into a piping bag and showed her how to cover the cupcakes in icing. Mina was extra careful as she did as he instructed, moving her hands in a spiralling motion as she squeezed the bag gently. When she felt confident enough that she could do a good job and the pastries were out of the oven, she began to adorn them with the pink icing, squealing as she finished each one.

When the cupcakes were finished, he congratulated her by patting her on the back and she thanked him repeatedly for his help and encouragement.

She picked up a plate and filled it with the better-looking delicacies before walking into the common room looking for Uraraka. More than one hand tried to grab one of her desserts, but Mina jokingly threatened to spray acid on them if they misbehaved. She would’ve loved to share her cupcakes, but her priority was helping her friend!

It didn’t take long for Mina to come to the conclusion that Uraraka was in her room. Upon knocking, she clearly heard a slightly hoarse voice answer, telling her to come in.

Uraraka looked like she’d been crying but tried to pretend like she hadn’t. There weren’t any tear marks across her cheeks, but her eyes were red and a little swollen, and her face lacked her usual blush.

“I made you pink cupcakes!” screamed Mina, showing her the sweet creations with a pleased smile. She was going for over the top on purpose, hoping her enthusiasm would spread to the other. It seemed like it did a little, when she saw the smallest of smiles appear on her friend’s face.

“Ah, that’s so nice!” The blush slowly returned to Uraraka’s face, which only made Mina happier.

“But now we’ve got to talk. You’ve got to tell me who called you and why you feel so bad about it.”

“It… it’s… it’s not what it seems.” Uraraka said, waving her inside and sitting on the bed. She took a cupcake when Mina forced the plate onto her to encourage her to spill the beans. With her mouth full, she started to speak. It had been her parents, and it had been an awfully normal conversation. Nothing they said had made her feel bad, and nothing had happened at her house to make her upset.

“Sho?” Mina asked with her mouth full, a bit of pink icing on her lips. “Whuh haffened? Why’f you sho shad?”

Uraraka sighed, closing her eyes tightly before opening them again, staring at her friend with a confidence she seldom seemed to have. She grasped Mina’s hand tightly, almost painfully and whispered that she may as well tell her. “My parents aren’t doing anything wrong. I am.”

And with those words, Mina gulped audibly, accidentally choking on her cupcake. The pink haired girl coughed, trying to get rid of the sensation of uneasiness that came with what she’d just heard.

“What did you do!?” Then she realised that that would only make it worse, so she tried a different approach. “I bet it wasn’t that bad. You can never do anything really, really wrong. You’re so sweet and nice! And you always have the best intentions.”

Uraraka sighed. “It’s not that. I’m not doing enough. It’ll never be enough. My parents are struggling financially and there’s nothing I can do about it! And… And I’ll never be the hero they need. I’ll never be the best one, I’ll… I’ll…!”

Mina quickly placed the plate on the bed and embraced her in a tight hug. She wasn’t all that good with words, but she hoped that what she couldn’t tell her by talking, she could say by squeezing her with affection. It seemed to work as she felt her friend relax against her.

“You’re wonderful. You’re the best. You’re all they want. Ever. Don’t ever think you’re not. You’ll always be the hero they need, Ochako.”

Uraraka didn’t answer. She just buried her face into pink locks and inhaled.

“They’re proud of you. They always will be.”

“Thank you so much, Mina. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“And it’s all true.”

“Thank you. And thanks for the cupcakes! They’re delicious!”

“My pleasure! But hey! Since we’re not going to eat all of these,” Mina said, gesturing at the cupcakes wildly, an ecstatic grin on her face, “we could offer them to whoever’s in the common room? I have some more in the kitchen. You up for that?”

“Yeah, sure!” Without letting Uraraka so much as breathe, the pink haired girl grabbed her arm and took off, the plate with the pastries in her other hand.

Once in the common room, Mina gently pushed her friend to offer their classmates the leftover cupcakes in exchange for a hug. She blushed as she complied, opening her arms to her friends.

With a grin on her face, Mina supervised her, watching intently. She frowned when her eyes locked onto Kirishima, noticing that something was off. He was munching on his cupcake, but his gaze was on the floor and he looked downcast.

She crossed her arms over her chest, pensive. She was determined to do everything she could just to make any of her friends smile; she would not tolerate any of them being sad, ever.

Thinking about what she could do, she smirked, deciding that she could make both Kirishima and the entirety of class 1-A happy at the same time by preparing a surprise party for him.

After all the cupcakes had been finished, she rounded up a few of her trustworthy classmates and together they came up with a plan. They assigned themselves tasks with a reasonable date for completion. Kaminari and Sero were in charge of the food and drinks; Mina, Uraraka and Yaoyorozu had to decorate the common room, gussy up the place to make it worthy of a party; and Midoriya’s task was to make sure Kirishima wouldn’t be in the dorms. He did so by preparing a sparring date, just the two of them.

Kirishima was close to crying when he opened the door and found all of his friends and classmates waiting for him with a scream of ‘surprise!’. His mouth fell open as he looked around, sparing quick glances at their smiling faces, the emotions overwhelming him.

The party went amazingly well. Jirou acted as the DJ, playing an ample repertoire of music to suit everyone’s tastes, all tracks that Kaminari tried to dance to with his awful sense of rhythm. Even Bakugou was on his best behaviour. He wasn’t dancing but at least he wasn’t exploding anything.

“How’s the party boy?” Mina walked over to Kirishima and smiled at him lovingly.

“It’s great! It’s amazing! Thank you so much!” By the look on his face, she thought he was about to burst into tears again. With a slight hint of panic in her face she turned to look for someone. She gestured frantically at the first person she saw, who happened to be Shouji.

“Don’t cry! You deserve this!”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve all of you, you’re just all so great.”

By the time Kiri had said those words the other boy had appeared, looking confused.

“Hey! Take a picture of us!” Mina shoved her phone into Shouji’s grip and slung her arm over Eijirou’s shoulder, bringing them closer. She made a V with her free hand and grinned at the camera. She heard the snap of the photo being taken but hung onto him for a few seconds before going over to look at it, showing him as well. “We look super cute!”

“Yeah, we do! Thanks, Mina!”

For Mina’s birthday, Kirishima gave her the picture Shouji took of them together, neatly framed in pink as a present. With tears in her eyes, she hung it in her dorm room, and it was her favourite gift she got that year.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

let's see those Prime Numbers for the ask meme

2) favorite albums?

well i was Ready for kesha’s album Warrior to come out in iiii think it was the end of 2012 or early 2013?? i snuck out to that tour in dc that summer also. totally solid album and it was fun to have something so fun during a totally Not Fun period lol. i was also pretty into owl city at the exact same time lmao, that’s Blatantly for when you’re depressed lol...and i also eventually saw that guy on tour when a new album came out in 2015, and that was fun too, and was Enjoying Myself a factor in the tipping point of “ah jeez i gots 2 get outta here” that i had in the next month? maybe! and uhhh i listened a lot to the phoenix te amo album. that one wasnt tied to anything at all but i have heard it So much. super short and also rock solid and relistenable. and then here we are and the bmc obcr is a gift to the world b/c a) it exists and b) Cuz It All Slaps and c) it’s so fun to either sing or dance along, or cry along if it’s the agtikbi reprise and d) lgw... and e) all the eternal, well-mixed wroland vocals

3) favorite memes?

oh god lmao idk......real earlier 10s stuff was the I Say Hey he-man meme, and the “that really rustles my jimmies” meme which was real underrated......there’s been plenty of Memes where i’ve been like “this one is funny to me Every Time” but of course now looking back on it it’s like. what’s a meme??? Vine

(skipping 5 & 11 cuz that’s the Entirety of someone else’s ask and i don’t wanna just have to scrap theirs completely and i’ll get to it next!!)

11) favorite fanarts?

you know what, there’s continuously been a ton of amazing fanart where i’m like, i’m so glad i’m seeing this, & this is Artistic Fuel, and marge simpson anime has really been just this Standout Experience lmao like......idk for as Inspiring as it is, there’s only a couple things i’ve drawn that are Directly inspired, but i just flip for it all the time and like, it’s supremely expressive and like, comics that aren’t chronological but more like a Collage Of a Moment / Concept which i think is super cool and also i love when stuff reminds me that it doesn’t have to look ~super cleaned up~ to look great.

13) favorite people you know?

oh god this one really got out of control lol i started like, talking about everyone ever from this past decade. so for Convenience i’m interpreting this as “people *i* know, but they don’t know me” so that i can cheat and say will roland, voted person of the year 2019. by extension, essential supporting crew who helped us reach this point, like john simpkins or joe iconis. leave it at that!! it’s 5am and you know i’m not lying. who knew where going “wow, This guy” in late 2018 would have so much Value.

17) a fandom you wish more people were in/you had more people to talk to about?

oof hmm.......amnesia tdd didn’t really have a “fandom” even though it obviously got a lot of attention, it’dve been fun if it had though lol. it’s tricky to answer this one cuz i always prefer like, smaller fandoms and/or finding the Niche or some other way of just like, interacting with a small corner of things, so i’m never like wow god damn wish i’d been absolutely in the thick of it with this thing. i’ve been in Corners n Niches and it’s been fine by me, really

19) a fandom that you had the best time in?

HMM lol.........marble hornets sure was fun but like, a lot of that was just the content itself and not necessarily The Fan Experience, tho i sure got a lot out of it in a ton of ways. i mean tbh that’s true of each thing i’ve really Gotten Into majorly, i go hard af and then walk out the other side with these #connections or #experiences like whoa where’d these come from lol!! but really like, overall, i’m probably having the best time right now. the “fandom” is basically just our agenda lmao but like i said i’m always having the best time when it’s a pretty niche deal, And the sheer variety of Contents n Characters to draw from here is super nice, and the fact that it’s like, oh yeah and i’m finally recognizing this should’ve-been-obvious entire Passionne i’ve had since always, and that’s great too, and like, also just having the Variety Of Live / Current Unfoldings that go down.....like, everyone havin fun with the Joe Iconis Xmas Xtrav was entirely great. and just the Engagement level is basically the best, cuz like there’s the times where maybe i’ll get a zillion notes and that’s definitely fun in its own way but i always enjoy just the way smaller amount of ppl who are Particularly Enthusiastic, and like, there’s times where like, maybe i’m *technically* in this larger circle of ppl but like, totally more of like a Tangent or peripheral to that circle or whatever lol........this feels like a really solid balance of like, being sorta in this orbit of people in a chill way, but also definitely the direct interactions Existing, which is always important lol but hasn’t always been a constant throughout my Fandom Experiences at all

23) who were you at the beginning of this decade?

2009-2010 was a real distinct year lol i was in my second year of college in the middle of my teens, when i’d hardly really been getting to Explore My Interests Freely up to that point and still wasn’t, but all of a sudden it’s like goddamn i have to figure out my major???? and i’m like, obviously in the middle of only just now Really getting to figure out my identity in this deeper and more genuine way, thanks to being lucky enough to Live On Campus and be away from home like, 2/3 of the year, but i was just like, oh god i’m in Stress Hell now all the time cuz like. i’m trying to figure out my whole thing and what my ~Career~ should be and i just have no idea but am like, trying super hard all the time lol it was not successful and i was just really stressed about it all the time. i was def quieter back then.....pretty lonely at the time, i did not get into mh and gain the presence of any Online Friends until late 2010, and i hadn’t yet been sort of accepted by a small faction of theatre people via my roommate’s connections.....i wasn’t at all Out yet, and was def In Progress of figuring it all out.....i didn’t have nearly the Self-Esteem i have now lmao, it was Not a great time and in a lot of ways ‘09-’10 was the start of a downturn into Worse Than Usual Times, though in Other ways it was definitely an upturn lol like. the latter related to stuff that was important to me / who i am, the former tied to the situations i was in and the godawful morale that resulted

29) a time when the worst case scenario happened but you pulled through?

well by the end of 2012 i had my Wrath Parent deluxe mad at me big time, AND i was stuck at home all of thee time with that (not at all hours but. every day.) it was terrible!!! tf was going on in 2013, cuz that shit was definitely like, a gross blur of a lot of indistinct misery. and then, relatedly, when it was so shitty in 2015 that i was like fantastic, i am so officially sick of this i’m outta here. i revisited some Misery Posts from that period lately for someone stranger on twitter’s project or something, and boy i was having a bad time Summer Of ‘15 lol, things not getting better at home And a job that was so shitty that it was like..................bye. lol. and then i spent a year living out of a minivan. which was real lucky in ways b/c like. infinitely better than if i had not had that minivan. and when that broke down i was also then lucky enough to have this friend who was relatively nearby who’d also been willing to just like, set me up to Not have to ask the lgbt center where that trans-friendly forest zone a couple cities over was. nothing as dramatic as it could’ve been, fortunately

31) a time you were scared?

hmmm when leaving The Parents Home overnight, that was intimidating. bit of completely jumping into the unknown there, and also like, when you spend your lifetime assuming that Someone’s Arbitrary Wrath will be uponst you always, it’s hard to shake that sense of dread and doom, like ah jeez i am really potentially bringing hell on myself here........and like i mentioned with Start Of The Decade, there was just a ton of fear there all the time lol, trying to figure out virtually overnight The Whole Of Who I Am And What I Want when i’d only just even gotten to start......also i wanna say i maybe came out in 2011?? and i sort of also felt obligated to come out to my parents also (plus i think i was giving them like, one last chance to surprise me and be decent and kind of Grow Up themselves even tho i was the like, 16 y.o.) which yknow, kids you do not have to come out to anyone at all. someone was talking the other day abt how they didn’t think lgbtq “discourse” had evolved as much as you’d hope over the past decade, but idk about that, it's only a little bit of a wildly complex topic, and for starters Online Trans “Discourse” of a decade back was wayyyyyy in a vastly different place than it is now, leaps and strides really. so the way to ~really~ do it was presented kind of more rigidly i think. anyways i did it via email and was incredibly stressed to even open the reply a couple days later lol......which ended up being really weird and vague, and then there was a phone call where no one brought it up, and the only result was increased ire and resentment :( ........and then there was still like, cops encounters! near or not-as-bad-as-they-could’ve-been vehicular collisions! but tbh generally my reaction to the latter was underwhelming, except for one particular time when i was a passenger and also tense af for the rest of the ride. that’s it for Immediate fear really lol......oh wait one time i was at this decent sized Convention Panel Event and when i’m nervous i can Only talk more (it’s possible!!) and i snuck into line for the q&a and Right when i got to the mic (intimidating) they were like oop we’re low on time, lightning round!! :’] that was obviously more just a crapton of l’anxiete

37) a fashion that fell out of style that you wish would make a resurgence?

were Gladiator sandals this decade? the strappy deals that like, went up the ankles / calves? that was in fashion for a year or two and i’m into it. i like sandals and that kind of drama

41) something you learned a lot that not a lot of other people might know about?

i don’t know that i learned way a lot of anything that’s real in-depth knowledge and niche lore.........i have learned Nothing

43) an important relationship (of any kind) you had?

i had???? lmao well either way let’s say current relationships count and like, pretty much everyone in my Sphere i value a lot! i never like, have or have had a ~close~ ring of ppl around me lol like i thought it was lucky if i talked to someone Every Day (and not at all the Usual thing) and now it’s more likely that i talk to two people every day and maybe that sounds sarcastic but it’s not at all lol. i know my social stats aren’t impressive but i so appreciate what i get to enjoy and have. and other Connections might be way more like, we are friendly acquaintances, we talk on rare occasions, we haven’t talked at all in ages, we talk but only to trade cute pics of cats, Etc etc, but i seriously do appreciate all of everyone who’s cool who i get to interact with in any way and like, be in each other’s spheres and Not just like, absolutely on nobody’s radar. also obviously soph you are here in that list in case i wasn’t implying it good enough lol it is 5am and god knows deciphering what i say at any time can be its own challenge.....ur Epic Highs and Lows of bmc 3.0 is so good lmao

[polar-stars]

Shokugeki no Hiraku - Ch.3

-The Lady in Red-

“And this is what we call the facility for Western cuisines!” Kyo introduced a truly enormous building reminiscent of London’s Parliament. Hiraku almost broke his neck while looking up at it.

“Many Research Societies are located here. Of course there is the Western Cuisine RS that goes without saying, but also the Spanish RS or oh!” Kyo snapped his fingers as he recalled an encounter from earlier. He grinned at Hiraku. “Remember that thuggish Barbie from class? She’s part of the French RS, which can also be found here!”

“Oh.” Hiraku scratched his chin and inspected the building closely, albeit not truly gaining anything from it. Then he turned his head towards Kyo. “What’s an RS?”

Kyo blinked as his eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Eh? You don’t know that?” As Hiraku shook his head, he began mumbling. “It’s all on Totsuki’s websit.....ah whatever.” His voice got louder again and he patted Hiraku’s shoulder for the seventh time this day. “Lucky you got me, Yukihira!” He took the hand off the shoulder again and rather lifted his index finger. “Research societies are our versions of clubs. They’re meant to dig further into certain aspects of cooking and explore them in groups of specialised and interested students.” He then laid a hand on his chest and exclaimed. “I am part of the Pacific-Fishes-RS. As I am specialised in Malaysian cuisine after all!”

Hiraku tilted his head a little, something that Kyo interpreted as sign to keep on going. “You can join if you want! We’re a smalle- eh I mean, currently uprising RS! Tell me, what are you specialised in?”

Hiraku’s expression remained neutral. “What are the most important Research thingies?” He spoke, without answering Kyo’s question. Kyo blinked a little taken aback. “Hm?” He then scratched his head. “Oh eh there are a few big ones I guess...Chocolate RS, Seafood RS, Poultry RS....they’re pretty huge I’d say. Most of the more bigger societies are the cuisine-focused ones though. Like the Spanish or French one I just mentioned. ...A......truly massive........titan is...................also the..................”

Kyo’s voice became more and more absent before he stopped talking completely. Hiraku leaned a little closer to his face, wondering if he bit his tongue or something.

Kyo’s eyes however were focused on his surroundings. While he had given an introduction to the Research Societies, more and more students had left the facility of Western cuisine, most in a hurry. At this point an entire sea of people was streaming past them.

“What’s going on?” Kyo questioned aloud. “Maybe they hand out free food somewhere.” Hiraku made a guess. But before Kyo could tell him that a thing like that was not really common on Totsuki, they heard two passing-by girls chat.

“Isn’t it amazing? A Shokugeki! Already on the first day!” One of them gushed. The other gave a nod while laughing. “I know right? Totsuki truly never becomes boring for even a second.”

Hiraku tilted his head. Didn’t he heard that strange Shoku-something term before that day?

Kyo’s eyes teared up in the meantime and he shrieked. “A Shokugeki?!” Once again Hiraku tilted his head, this time into the opposite direction however. There the Shoku-something term was again.

“...Honda......” He began, but Kyo was busy stopping one of the passing students with holding his arm. “Hey! What’s all of this about?” He practically yelled.

A little bit irritated, the student wriggled his arm out of Kyo’s grip while snarling. “A Shokugeki. In the Arena of the Reborn Phoenix, you idiot!” And with a last darkening of his expression, he then turned around and continued running with the mass.

Hiraku had remained absolutely clueless and confused throughout the entire exchange, finding nothing better to do than to do some more head-tilts. However, suddenly his hand was grabbed and Kyo’s face turned to him with an urgent look in his eyes. “Come on, Yukihira! We gotta see that!“ And merely a second later, the still confused Hiraku found himself being dragged into the direction all of the other students were running to.

After a few minutes of running past trees and bushes, Hiraku could see an imposant building appearing at the horizon and coming nearer and nearer with each step.

Architecture-wise it looked very Asian and the architect had made use of the colour red quite a lot. The more closer they got, Hiraku also noticed a great amount of golden phoenixes all over the building. Huge ones, like those being painted on the walls but also smaller ones decorating the roofs or the pillars.

From all sides, students in the same blue uniforms were running towards it. Judging by their visible differences in age whatever event was currently going on drew all generations of Totsuki towards it.

Hiraku found curiosity starting to boil in him. As well as another yet another feeling of fondness for Totsuki’s grand- and extravagantness. This was the sort of decadence he had hoped for.

“There we are....” He heard Kyo breathe in front of him. “The Arena Of The Reborn Phoenix.”

And then he proceeded to pull Hiraku towards the entrance, which had one big, golden and detailed Phoenix watching protectively over it.

Once through, Hiraku found himself in a big and noisy hall with all the millions of different chats between the many students that had already gathered in it echoing to the ceiling very high up above. In the middle of the arena, Hiraku caught the sight of two highly equipped cooking stations and a long stretched out table with three seats.

Kyo was in the meantime wildly turning is head in search of a familiar face or something. And luckily he spotted one, who by perfect coincidence also happened to sit next to two free seats. Still holding onto Hiraku’s arm, Kyo pulled him further.

“Tsujimoto!” Kyo called out and instantly the blonde, sitting with crossed legs and crossed arms looked up. Her expression, ready to kill. Not due to personal dislike towards Kyo but rather simple genetics.

Harumi quickly scanned him from head to toe before snarling. “And who are you supposed to be?” Kyo blinked for a short second before he laughed, scratched the back of his head and exclaimed. “Haha, come on. What an old joke, haha. It’s me Honda Kyo!”

Now Harumi leaned forwards a little, raising an eyebrow. “Who?” But before Kyo could list all the numerous of moments he and Harumi had shared in their lifes, Hiraku peeped from behind Kyo which resulted in Harumi’s expression immediately darkening.

“Oh it’s the thuggish Barbie.” Hiraku bluntly stated.

With the speed of a butterfly flapping its wings, Harumi rose from her seat, her blonde locks flying high in the process while her hands balled two fist. “What the fuck was that?!” She yelled.

Kyo felt his body-temperature rising and the drops of sweat forming. Hiraku in the meantime only blinked and then pointed to the slightly pale Kyo. “Honda called you that. I forgot your actual name, sorry, that was just easier to memorise.”

But before Hiraku could inquire what her actual name was, he was already grabbed by the collar. So was Kyo. Harshly Harumi pulled the two closer to her face and barked. “You two assholes are pissing me off!” A few people around them eyed the three suspiciously or with raised eyebrows. Some dared to shush, annoyed with the noise Harumi made.

“No....No...Now calm down, Tsujimoto!” Kyo stammered. Hiraku kept his neutral expression, while Harumi screeched: “Shut the hell up!” However just as she had done so, the lights in the hall suddenly went off.

The noise within the hall died down slowly as many rather focused their sight on the middle of the arena. Harumi’s grip on Kyo’s and Hiraku’s collar also loosened a bit as she turned her head as well, alongside the mass.

A spotlight was cast on the stage. And very soon an enthusiastic voice cajoled through the hall. “Hello-Hello! Welcome back to Totsuki and herewith I, your favorite host Kawashima Hideyoshi, greet you to the very first Shokugeki of this season!” An uproar of thrilled hype was heard afterwards, alongside female swoons for “Hideyoshi-kun” and male snarls about “that attention-whore-brat”.

Hiraku watched a bit of the spectacle before he turned his blank face towards Kyo.

“So what’s a Shokugeki?”

Those four words resulted in Kyo’s eyes widening in shock and a surprise also going through Harumi as she let go of Kyo’s and Hiraku’s collars.

For three seconds the two remained silent, the only sound that Hiraku received being the continuing noise of the hall. But then Kyo and Harumi equally exclaimed. “You don’t know that?!”

Hiraku merely shook his head. “I wouldn’t ask if I knew.”

Harumi crossed her arms once again and turned slightly away from Hiraku, as if she was afraid of getting somehow infected by his ignorance. “You really are an idiot, hm?”

Kyo took a small step closer to Hiraku and began to explain as usual. “It’s Totsuki’s kind off battling. A cooking duel with a specific theme chosen for it that allows the students to settle all kinds of arguments through their culinary techniques.” That certainly sparked interest in Hiraku and he leaned a bit closer as Kyo elaborated further. “Both parties have to be willing to give something up in case of a loss and also have to agree that both of their compensations are equal in value. For it to be formally accepted as Shokugeki it also needs validation by an authorised person, an odd number of unbiased judges and both parties have to be in agreement on having said Shokugeki. One of these is about to happen right now apparently, however....” With that, Kyo shifted his attention back to Harumi. “How the hell is it possible to have one on the very first day?! Who is even participating? Did they even have time to prepare ?!”

Harumi gritted her teeth. An attempt to signalise Kyo that she was annoyed by him talking to her. Albeit grumpy, she did answer however. “From what I heard they somehow planned the entire thing already a week before school starts.”

Almost has if he wanted to confirm her, the student in his last year of middle school division who had been tasked to host today’s Shokugeki, Kawashima Hideyoshi, announced Harumi’s exact words. “Today’s competitors were to meet week ahead in the holidays and the challenge was given there. Totsuki was informed and got it to roll. If that’s not a beautiful showcase of our battle-hearted school, I don’t know what is!”

“See?” Harumi gave a slight but smug smile. She then pulled a package of bubblegum out of her purse and threw one of the pink stripes of chewable sugar into her mouth.

Hiraku only looked down to Hideyoshi, thinking about how it must be like to stand down there. Kyo leaned over the reeling. “But who’s-“

The question burning on Kyo’s tongue was answered before Kyo could even complete asking it. “Then let’s call today’s warriors in! Please focus your attention to the Southern Gate !!”

He made a presenting gesture towards said gate and immediately all heads followed Hideyoshi’s stretched out arm. Slowly walking in, they saw a student that was a year older than Hiraku, Kyo and Harumi. He had blue, wild hair and one bang that was longer than the rest. On his lips there was a confident smirk and same confidence could be seen glimmering in his light-violet eyes.

“Coming in from the south, we have the youngest of the famous Tazawa-brothers. The four sons of Tazawa Tanzan, the man who build himself a restaurant empire all over Japan which each restaurant offering a different kind of Asian cuisine, which manifested in his sons. The oldest is known to specialise in Japanese cuisine, the second oldest is known to specialise in Korean cuisine, the second youngest is known to specialise in Thai cuisine and finally, the youngest took on the cuisine of China. We can greet him today, one of the grand aces of the Chinese RS: Tazawa Masazumi!!”

Cheers and claps where heard, which prompted Masazumi to grin into the mass giving a nod.

“He looks sure that he’s winning this...” Hiraku commented. Kyo was about to give input as well, but Harumi was a bit faster. “He’s a bitch.”

“Opposing him....” Hideyoshi called out in the meantime. His stretched arm now showed into the other direction. “Please turn your attention to the Northern entrance!”

Once again everyone did as told. and only with their mere presence he opposed managed to take a few breaths away once entering.

In came a girl that was a year younger than her opponent. She had an elegant stature and an almost regal kind off walk. Confidently she had rested her left hand on her hip, while the other gracefully held a red, Chinese fan.

Just as red was the beautiful, expensive-looking Cheongsam that hugged the girl’s rather well-developed body perfectly. Down to her shoulders fell wild, blonde locks that had a sort of free spirit to them.

The pink lips of the girl were smiling. A smile that knew it would be victorious and you could see the exact same certainty in the girl’s sparkling, violet eyes.

Hiraku didn’t know why but somehow he felt that Masazumi would stand no chance. The girl had a sort of glimmer in her eyes, reminiscent to what he only had ever seen in his family’s eyes whenever they took on a challenge to this point.

He found himself slightly intrigued.

“Ah it’s her.....I could have figured that out....“ Hiraku heard Kyo whispering next to him. “....Of course it’s one of the three to kick off this year with a bang.”

“Incoming is the heiress of the infamous Hojo-Ra as well as the daughter of a former Elite Ten member out of the 91st Generation. She’s a quickly uprising talent within the Chinese RS and considered one of the three most promising students of the 114th Generation. Please welcome, Hojo Suzume!”

Loud claps and cheers followed once again. Suzume began grinning, winking and waving at a few people in the crowd as she walked closer to the stage.

Kyo looked at Harumi. “Is it about....” “Yeah, it is. Of course it is, you idiot.” Harumi didn’t even let him finish his sentence and didn’t bother to look at him either. Rather she put another bubble gum into her mouth.

“Hojo really does have some guts....” Kyo focused on the stage again. “Well idiots like you really build her ego up after all.” Harumi commented.

“She looks a bit like some Chinese princess.” Hiraku said while having his eyes locked to the stage. He couldn’t deny that he was interested to see how this would go.

Downwards, Suzume now also came to a hold in front of the one she would be facing in today’s fight.

“Hiya, Tazawa-senpai!” She exclaimed and took her hand off her hip so she could give a slight wave to Masazumi. He did not greet her back but rather arrogantly smiled into the upper rows of the hall.

Hideyoshi raised his arm high up the air, as he spoke into his microphone. “The theme for today are Chinese noddles! Furthermore, which ever of the two losses....” He took a break for dramatic effect. “....will have to leave Chinese RS forever.”

You heard gaps from everywhere at that. “But Tazawa-senpai is one of their aces!” Kyo exclaimed. “He’s considered highly important to the RS and it’s known that he was given quite the power by the president!”

Masazumi now finally brought himself to meet Suzume’s violet eyes. He grinned. “Well, finally you maggot will be gone. You’ve been quite the annoyance lately within the RS.”

Suzume’s smile grew a bit and elegantly she closed her fan before giving her answer. “Is that the best trash talk you can do?” She spread her arms lightly, pretending to be surprised. “Ah! Maybe I shouldn’t have expected too much from you. How stupid, stupid of me stupid, stupid maggot indeed!” She playfully hit herself lightly with her fans before her expression became serious again. “Let’s just hope your cooking is not the level of your words, because if it is I’ll have you crushed in just a matter of minutes.”

“You don’t believe that yourself.” Masazumi replied. His expression not as prideful as it had been before though.

Kyo rubbed his chin. “She really is confident that she will win this, huh?” “I believe she will.” Harumi voiced. Hiraku did not add anything but rather continued to watch.

“Now!” Hideyoshi spoke up once again, raising his arm another time. “Let the Shokugeki....Beginnnnnnn!”

—

It almost felt like a flash.

But in the end Masazumi was on the floor, his knees defeated by the taste of Suzume’s dish which she had crafted with a visible, broad knowledge around Chinese cuisine and expertise in holding and using cooking utensils. Above Masazumi hung the digital board that read “Tazawa vs. Hojo: 0 - 3”

The crowd was in awe.

“She really did it...”

“A second year.....”

“Amazing....”

“That’s a member of the three for you....”

Harumi, who had consumed 7 chewing gums throughout the match, popped the pink bubble she had blown and proudly flipped her hair. “Told ya so.”

“Hojo really is something else.” Kyo muttered. “But that’s to be expected, considering she’s one of the three.“ Harumi crossed her arms. “She’s who I have estimated my future rival, of course she’s competent!” Kyo turned his head towards her and gawked. “Why would you choose one of the three as your rival?!”

Harumi huffed but before she could answer, Hiraku spoke. “I’d like to taste her dish.” What he had seen looked delicious but in the end only the tongue could decide after all.

Down on the stage, Suzume walked past Masazumi and took her fan off the counter. She took a brief glance into the crowd, looking for particular faces. As she spotted them, a boy with violet hair, a tall dark-haired girl and a tall boy with same dark hair, she grinned for a second before she walked on, opening her fan in the process with the same grace as she had closed it earlier.

However, she took a halt to her walk as she heard “impossible” being muttered behind her.

“Impossible.” Masazumi said under gritted teeth while eyeing the floor. But right in the next moment he lifted his head to look at Suzume instead. “I refuse to fucking accept this !! Something must have been bribed or something, I don’t fucking know. No way, that-“

Suzume made a half turn, still smiling. “A so-called maggot defeated you?” She then, swiftly made a complete turn and began laughing. “Nyahaha, I must say this must all be reaaally embarrassing to you. You were such a promising member of the Chinese RS after all. How will you even tell your parents? Don’t worry, senpai, I will always remember your presence there!” She grinned. “Once I am the Chinese RS President I’ll make sure to tell them all your little, pathetic achievements don’t worry.”

Masazumi clutched his fist. “You will never get through with this! No way in hell you will be the next president!”

Suzume still kept her smile.

“Just lean back and watch. I’ll promise you a good show in the upcoming weeks.”

She turned around again, but looked over her shoulder for a last time. But suddenly the smile went out of her face and her eyes hardened. “Oh and also.” Her voice got harsh. “Don’t call me or anyone else ‘maggot’ ever again, or I will kick your ass harder than today and straight out of Totsuki.”

With that she walked away. And everyone knew that she today hasn’t satisfied her.

[belphegor1982]

Okay, this is the last chapter in the desert, I promise. The next ones will be... a different flavour entirely.

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14)

Chapter 15: Before the Plunge (on AO3 here)

The sun was rising far away to the left of the dirigible; the sky looked a washed-out sort of blue that, to Izzy, felt both daunting and a bit bland without any wisp of cloud to break the uniformity. Stifling a yawn, he reached to douse the light he kept overhead at night to be able to read his maps. His muscles felt sore, not at all rested from what little sleep he’d had.

Two nights in a row almost without sleep an’ all. I’m getting a bit old for this bullshit. I’ll get you for that, O’Connell, you mark my words.

Mrs O’Connell was curled up on a bunk in one of the cabins, fast asleep, with only a curl or two of hair visible under the blanket; and that Medjai or what have you, Ardeth Bay, was unceremoniously slumped against the wall of the wheelhouse, his head lolling slightly, completely out for the count as well. Around him on the floor were scattered all the other maps Izzy owned that were not in front of him around the helm. Izzy did not like to think of what would happen when the circumstances demanded that he asked for one of his maps back. Boy, those eyes could glare.

Wait. The number wasn’t right. Where had the kid got to?

Just as Izzy frowned and started looking around, he found the boy sitting by the rail a few feet away. Apparently, he wasn’t sleeping, as the pilot saw him stretch a bit and change positions in order to be completely in the light. The morning sun, still nice and warm and not yet burning as it would be in a few moments, was something to enjoy and the boy seemed to be rightly appreciative of it. Of course, if they usually lived in London (which Izzy had somehow gathered), that kid must rarely see light like that. Good for him that he did now, because he was as white as most white English people were.

That kid was a funny one.

It wasn’t that Izzy didn’t like kids. He supposed that, if you looked really hard for it, you could find a use for them other than quickly becoming adults or something else he could deal with, but generally he liked them better away. That didn’t include the countless children who were always hanging around the place; those were generally there to get a bit of money from the tourists, watch Dee set off or come back, and help if a hand was needed. Other kids, like those from his family clientele, Izzy just didn’t know what to do with.

That Alex was something else. Of course he would be, with a father like O’Connell and a mother like this spitfire of a woman. He had a smart mouth on him, probably a bit too much for his own good, and Izzy hadn’t missed the way the boy had tinkered with his lock. Either they did teach useful stuff at those posh schools, or he’d definitely had lessons from sticky-fingered members of his family. Izzy’s money was on Carnahan. O’Connell probably had a qualm or two about teaching his kid something like that.

Alex being a gutsy and sneaky devil wasn’t surprising in itself. What was more surprising was that the kid didn’t behave like kids his age were supposed to behave, according to Izzy’s limited knowledge of the species. Even if he did pelt the pilot with endless questions about Dee, Egypt, what his dad was like when he was younger (Izzy so far had artfully avoided answering this particular subject, keenly aware that Mrs O’Connell generally seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere) and went just about anywhere on the dirigible when not watched, nimble as an ape… Alex didn’t whine, didn’t make a fuss – much – over simple things like the not-so-great food or the lack of creature comforts, and he didn’t get in the way. As far as Izzy was concerned, this was a first. He’d simply assumed ‘normal’ kids were a nuisance most of the time. But then again, that kid’s pedigree alone spoke against the word ‘normal’.

Izzy blinked and proceeded to yawn his head off big time. On one hand, those were the best hours of the day, with nobody around but him and Dee, and generally that was when he would mutter things to himself or to his dirigible without someone goggling at him like he should be carted off to a madhouse or something. On the other hand, those particular hours were the most difficult to stay awake through, without any sound, any sight or any movement – or conversation – to make steering eventful. It was so boring that a simple encounter with a flock of birds would almost make it into the log for the sheer lack of action.

When his jaw hinged itself back to its right place, he gave a start as he realised the kid was no longer in sight. Indulging in a two-second panic, more than enough time to imagine what would be left of him if something happened to the O’Connell kid, he looked around wildly, only to find a pair of round blue eyes staring up at him from under a blond fringe.

“Jeez, kid, no need to scare me like that,” Izzy grumbled as Alex made his way into the cabin. The boy shrugged.

“I didn’t know you were watching me.”

“I don’t like the thought of a payin’ customer’s kid going over the rail, is all. ‘Specially this kind of payin’ customer.” That said with a jerk of his head to the back of the cabin, where Mrs O’Connell still slept soundly.

Alex’s grin shone as toothy as his father’s. Maybe with a couple of milk teeth that still hung on.

“Think she’s scary, huh?”

Izzy snorted. “You gonna tell me she’s not?”

“She’s my mum. I’m not supposed to be scared. Now you, well…”

“All right. I get it.”

Izzy reported his attention to the desert in front of him. The shadows of the dunes were quickly shortening, their mellow golden colour turning to flat yellow, and what he could see of the sky from under the balloon deepened from pale blue to cobalt. He could even begin to feel the heat reflected from the rising sun by the sand below the dirigible. The day was truly beginning.

For the sake of his nervous system, he glanced around for the kid. Alex had not moved from his spot a couple of steps behind Izzy. He was gazing at the sea of dunes, his eyes already reduced to slits by the sunlight pouring in through the window in front of them.

Remarkably looking like a much younger version of his father in the process.

O’Connell had not been the talkative type most of the time. There were times when he would just be so engrossed in whatever he was doing or thinking that it was useless trying to engage conversation with him. Which was a pity, because Izzy liked silence fine, but didn’t care much for shared silence.

Izzy shook his head inwardly. Amazing how folks can change. There was a time when the words ‘O’Connell’ and ‘married’ could not even be conceived to belong in the same sentence – not by Izzy Buttons of the Magic Carpet Airways, anyway. He had known O’Connell from before his time in the Legion, and at that time he’d been rough, goofy, downright terrifying if he meant to, and enjoying the simple pleasures of life, like a full meal once in a while, a night with a girl nice enough to lower her price on account of his good looks, or getting the upper hand in a bar brawl.

Not the kind of guy you picture married.

Then again, he had also been impossibly young. They both had been, come to think of it. Twenty-two shouldn’t be ‘old’ by anyone’s standards.

Izzy had had time, two years ago, to watch the interaction of the O’Connell couple from as safe a distance as possible, and he had found it rather interesting. In the end, it did not seem that unbelievable that O’Connell could have fallen that bad for the woman, and the opposite was just as true. The guy was rock-solid most of the time, and Izzy guessed that sort of thing was a winner with ladies. On the other hand, given the distance Mrs O’Connell was ready to go to get her husband (or her son, for that matter) out of trouble, and the lengths she proved capable of going to, she was at least equally as stubborn, stalwart, and determined as O’Connell was. Those two deserved each other. They should probably have been living happily ever after in some manor in that famous sun-forsaken London, supporting, loving, kissing and fighting each other like any other happy couple would. Like a bloody fairy tale.

Well, they probably were, until some crackpot decided the end of the world was nigh and made an attempt to materialise his nice little project. That was about as much as Izzy had registered this time, not being included in the ‘Let’s save the world tonight’ gang and being quite happy about it. All he had to do was provide transportation. Nobody would be getting shot this time.

Those two last bits Mrs O’Connell had firmly stated the morning they left Cairo, and the kid had nodded fervently. Which hadn’t kept Izzy from muttering under his breath or mentally counting the times when O’Connell had said, just as earnestly, that he wasn’t going to let his best pilot get shot. Of course, he always added that it was above all up to the pilot in question to cover his ass. Last time Izzy had heard that, he had taken it literally. It had resulted in a bullet hitting the fleshy part of his anatomy while he tried to run for cover. Naturally, he still hadn’t quite forgiven O’Connell for that. Hell, sometimes he had even wondered whether the bloody American kept him around to act more as a bullet repellent than as a pilot.

Izzy gave another yawn and automatically checked the slightly crumpled map beside the helm, scratching his stiff neck. He glanced down at Alex, who was still looking around as though this was the first time he was seeing dunes. The pilot knew for a fact it wasn’t. To tell the truth, he was a bit puzzled. This was the most silent the kid had been for the last three days. The absence of yet another question on how exactly he got Dee off the ground yet was a little unsettling.

“Bored yet?” he asked in a low voice, not particularly wanting to wake up the other passengers.

“Nope,” the kid answered, still staring. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m used to—hey, I ain’t bored, this is my job.”

“You sure look like you are.”

Izzy slipped a quick half-glare in the boy’s general direction. “You got a smartass mouth on you, kid.”

“Yeah.” A grin. “I get that a lot. Guess it runs in the family.”

“Which side?”

“Both. Mum often gets mad at Dad and Uncle Jon for that. I think she thinks they’re a bad example.”

“Figures.”

Silence settled again, filled mainly by the flapping sound of the propellers at the stern. It was calm, and in a way, restful. But when Izzy took a second glance at the boy, he found him wearing a slightly different expression on his face. It looked more set, and a bit whiter.

Izzy was not an idiot. He had quickly worked out that the kid was thinking about his father and his uncle and that there was something he was supposed to say that should make him feel a bit better about that. Problem was, he had absolutely no cue of what it was he was supposed to say. Knowing you had to do something was one thing; deciding to actually do it was a camel of a different colour entirely.

“So,” he began rather awkwardly, “can’t wait to bring ‘em back, huh?”

Alex looked up and stared up at him for a full minute, his face a blend of many different expressions, including some that Izzy didn’t recognise. Then he began to snort helplessly.

“That has got to be the lamest attempt at cheering someone up I’ve ever heard!” he said when he finally caught his breath, trying hard to keep it low and wiping the tears of laughter off his eyes. Izzy shook his head, frankly disgusted. If that’s what you get for tryin’ to help people…

He was surprised to hear the boy say, “Thanks, though.” And even more surprised when he saw that the trademark O’Connell grin had come back full-force. That’s when the pilot noticed this grin was a bit crooked, giving the kid a subtly ironic, mischievous look when he smiled.

Well. So that’s what you get for mixing up a dashing American adventurer and a headstrong English librarian. Hell of a result.

As Izzy watched him slyly from the corner of his eye, Alex’s own eyes went very round and his mouth opened as though of its own accord just as he exclaimed, “What the hell is that?”

Startled, Izzy peered at the horizon and found what the kid was referring to: a slim column of thick, dark smoke drifting up from something large and black on the ground, like a stain. He frowned, wondering exactly why someone would set fire to something in the middle of the desert, and how. And not quite sure whether it was important enough to go down and start nosing around.

The answer to that came quite unexpectedly from behind, startling the two occupants of the cabin.

“Alex, language.”

“Sorry, Mum,” said the kid, not taking his eyes off the smoke. “D’you think it’s got something to do with them?”

Evelyn O’Connell came to stand behind her son to peer through the window; she bent to get a better look, keeping a hand above her for support. Her hair was all mussed up and dusty, her clothes rumpled and her face still betrayed tell-tale signs of recent sleep, and too little at that.

She looked a far cry from the dazzling, dashing beauties Izzy saw once in a while in the moving pictures, yet suddenly it hit him in the face why O’Connell had held onto her and not let go in eleven years.

Couldn’t explain, though.

“This spot is not part of any usual road,” came a low-pitched, accented voice behind them, making Izzy jump and almost let go of the helm. “It cannot be anything but them.”

“Do you think… do you think there is somebody in that… in that wreck?” asked Mrs O’Connell, her voice shaking ever so slightly. The Medjai guy shook his head.

“No-one can tell for sure from up here. We’ll have to go down and check.”

Mrs O’Connell nodded, looking a bit pale. Izzy would have liked to have something clever to say that would cheer her up, but after his fiasco with the kid he preferred to tread this kind of ground with extra caution. Which for him meant going into full pilot mode and barking at everybody to strap themselves up, that he didn’t want anyone to stupidly go over the bloody rail during a simple landing manoeuvre. And actually avoiding Mrs O’Connell’s eyes when she told him to watch his mouth in front of her son.

He managed to catch the kid’s glance, though, and he got a small smile from him in return. Tight-lipped, from a somewhat pale face, but a smile all the same. Kind of a ‘You got away pretty easy’ smile.

Definitely something else, that kid.

.⅋.

This journey was definitely turning a bit repetitive. Of course there was something enchanting about the Egyptian desert – though they must have crossed the borders of Egypt and possibly Sudan at some point, because they could see the great flat stretch of the Blue Nile in the distance to their right – especially in the early and late hours of the day… But they would soon reach the end of their third whole day of camel-back trekking and, frankly, as beautiful as the desert was, Jonathan would have liked it much better if he had watched it from the dirigible of that Izzy character’s, with a cup of tea or (even better) a glass of brandy and soda, very light on the soda. Also decent sandwiches, too.

And, above all, with neither hide nor hair of a camel in sight.

Now that he had had three days and nights to compare means of transportation, Jonathan found that he actually missed Izzy’s old, patched contraption. Travelling on a dirigible was not unlike sailing, minus the swell. Sure, they’d had a few bumps along the ride, mainly due to their least favourite just-risen-from-the-dead mummy pal, but, all in all, it had been a fairly enjoyable ride. Putting aside any worried thoughts of Alex, of course.

Jonathan yawned and scratched his neck. Although the sun had begun sinking into the horizon, it was still beating down upon their heads like a hammer on twenty or so cloth-covered nails (not counting the camels). The heat on his head and neck had yet to abate despite the sort of scarf he wore on his head and the collar of his jacket that he had put up. Good thing it took a lot for him to sunburn. Tom wasn’t so lucky.

However, of all the little downsides to their current situation, it was not the camels, the sun, or even the icy glare of Hamilton he could almost feel on his back every now and then that really bothered Jonathan. No, what really irked him, what aggravated him to no end was that Rick, Tom and him hadn’t really thought about what was in the lorry before they set it on fire.

If they had, they probably would not have left the rest of the food in it!

Jonathan felt a stupid idiot. The only thought that consoled him through the growls of his empty stomach was that the other two most likely felt like stupid idiots as well. Especially Tom, who was currently staring despondently at the head of his camel, as though imagining a dressing that could make it edible. Jonathan knew better than to tell him that no dressing or cooking, as rich and tasty as it was, could ever make camel meat pass for decent food.

Then again…

Jonathan shook his head to break this dangerous train of thoughts, bewildered and not a little disgusted that his own mouth had been watering at the mental picture of a camel roasting with aromatic herbs and trimmings. As though reading his mind, his mount gave a twitch that almost jerked its unprepared rider off, and skidded to a halt.

“Oh, no you won’t,” Jonathan muttered, pulling the reins and trying to urge the beast forwards with his foot, “not this time.” He could see the other riders overtake him, bobbing up and down with the tranquil pace of their camels, and Tom slowed down, giving him an inquiring look.

“Come on, you gormless useless blighter…”

He was still trying to make his camel at least budge when he came up with an idea. Leaning towards the camel’s head, he grabbed one hairy ear, making the animal give a strangled roar of protest, and said in his coldest, most earnest voice, “Look here, you. I’m sick and tired of these capers of yours. Now you’re going to do exactly as I say, or else I consider you as my emergency food supply. And I’m hungry.”

The camel batted the other ear and let out a whine. Jonathan pulled a bit harder on the handful of ear. “I bet you taste horrible too, but I’m quite ready to overlook this detail – we have been living off the stuff they called ‘stew’ for three days after all. The others are famished too, methinks, so you’d better get going again, now, don’t you think?”

Either the camel understood the gist of its rider’s words, or else it had grown tired of being pulled by the ear; anyway, it shook its head in a ruffled sort of way and started to walk again. Jonathan couldn’t keep a wide grin off his face, and when Tom asked him the reason for such glee, he told him.

Tom let out one of his guffaws that made his shoulders shake.

“Why, you – that was downright nasty!”

“Probably, but at least it’s paying attention now.”

Tom shot him a sideways glance. “I wouldn’t even put it past you anyway. You certainly have a way with animals. Not sure exactly what kind of way, though – you always seem to be viewing them as hypothetical food.”

“Not all of them,” Jonathan protested, as Tom started grinning. “Come on, I’m not that bad – I’m a gentleman, not a bloody caveman, for cripes’ sake.” He paused for a second as a memory resurfaced, and looked back at Tom thoughtfully. “That ram did look tasty for a second though, after four days without food, didn’t it?”

Tom sniggered and shook his head. “Not after it beat the snot out of us it didn’t. Who would have thought those girls kept a ram in the basement, anyway?”

“Didn’t they mistake it for a sheep?”

Tom nodded, still grinning. “Oh, you can joke all you want, but I wasn’t the one who’d discovered such a perfect way to sneak in.”

A second or two passed, during which Tom’s smile gradually faded, and Jonathan’s eyes turned as though of their own accord to the yellowish horizon. As he stared at nothing in particular, a more recent memory sneaked its way into his mind and brought a somewhat wry smile. Tom’s sandy eyebrows shot up. “What’s that look for?”

“Oh, it’s just that I promised Alex I’d tell him this one when he’s a bit older.” This one and some others, too. “Guess I’ll have to wait till he’s of age for that. Can’t have his mother have my skin for a hearthrug, can I?”

“Jon, your skin would not be enough for a napkin, let alone a hearthrug.”

“True enough.”

There was a beat, which stretched into a moment. During this relatively short time Jonathan noticed a slight change in Tom; something funny settled on his face and he seemed to sag a little bit on his saddle. It was subtle, but it was so uncharacteristic of his old friend that he peered at the broad face, wondering what could have brought on this sudden turn. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait very long for some kind of explanation. The Liverpudlian had never been good at this game.

Then Tom gave a small shrug and answered the unspoken question. He said it quickly, but the words sounded as though they were being dragged out against his will.

“Assuming you will be able to tell him someday. I mean, our outlook’s glum enough. You know, world ending tonight and all that rubbish.”

Jonathan was a little taken aback at that. It even made him a wee bit ill at ease. Fact was, he didn’t have a clue how to answer that one – Tom was usually the hopeless optimist, finding silver linings everywhere. This sudden gloom on his part was unsettling.

To be honest, Jonathan had had something of a funny feeling himself about the whole thing. Maybe it was the result of being the ‘rescued party’, as Rick had put it, and being fairly short of friendly faces around, but it had barely been enough to make him more than occasionally slightly uncomfortable.

“Right,” he ventured uncertainly, “and let’s not forget that we burned the food. So now we’ve got not only Hamilton, his minions and a jackal-headed army from Hell after us, but hunger as well. Wonder what will get to us first.” His attempt at a joke failed to have the expected effect as Tom gave the shadow of his ordinary bright grin and shrugged again. Jonathan was starting to worry a little bit.

Eventually Tom cast him a sideways glance and rolled his eyes. “I’m probably being an arse here,” he muttered with the beginning of a smile, “but now that is stupid. I mean, I know we’re not going to die from a day of fasting –”

The fact that his stomach chose that very moment to let out a long, loud growl took a lot of weight off his words. It also took a lot of weight off the atmosphere. Jonathan shot him a sarcastic look.

“Besides,” continued Tom in a would-be natural sort of voice, his ears even pinker than they already were after three days of camel-riding in the sun, “there’s always your camel solution to consider.”

The camel in question gave a bleating, alarmed sort of roar and picked up pace. Jonathan beamed, quite delighted. “Do you know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think this little idea of mine is not the worst I’ve ever had.”

“C’mon, Jonathan,” came a voice tinged with both American accent and smiling sarcasm, “you wouldn’t have the heart to actually eat that faithful mount of yours, would you?”

“Not sure about the stomach, old boy, but I do heartily feel like roasting this thing and saving you a big chunk,” Jonathan replied good-naturedly as Rick pulled on the reins of his camel to ride beside them. “What do you say to that?”

The American shook his head. “I say it won’t be necessary. According to what a couple of agents were chatting about in the back, there’s a reception party at Ahm Shere. So I guess we’ll get some food when we get there, which should be…” He squinted up at the sun and seemed to think for a second. “…In a couple of hours.”

“Heard that as well, didn’t you,” muttered Jonathan, rolling his eyes. Rick grinned his trademark four-hundred-teeth grin.

“Thanks for the offer, though. Too bad for you guys, I bet you’ve never tasted camel meat.”

“And thank goodness for that. I’m sure the insides of this air-brained mountain of hair and flesh smell worse than the outside does.”

Rick snorted and fell behind to refill his water skin. Thankfully all the water cans had not been stored in the lorry; there was a couple left on the car that brought up the rear. When he was gone, it was Tom’s turn to look pointedly at Jonathan.

“Erm, about the schedule and us arriving in a couple of hours and stuff –”

“What?”

Tom jerked his head in Rick’s general direction. “He did the maths. Hamilton asked him – on account of him knowing the desert and the way to Ahm Shere – and I heard the answer.”

Two hours… After three days of endless, repetitive desert trekking, the deadline suddenly looked much closer and coming faster than Jonathan would like. If Tom was right, and the pyramid was destroyed during the night, it meant that they probably would still be inside at the moment. That is, if they could even find a way to stop Hamilton’s little project involving the Army of Anubis, the human race, and the total annihilation of the second by the first.

The funny feeling began to flesh out.

Apparently, Tom had had the same line of thought, because his cheeks looked a little bit paler under his sunburn.

“What are the odds of the Medjai waltzing in to save the day?” he muttered, peering at the horizon as if waiting for black silhouettes on horses to materialise out of nowhere.

Jonathan winced. “Not so good.”

Tom was silent for a full minute. But then he turned to his old friend with a small smile on his face.

“Then again, what were the odds of you surviving two encounters with the living dead?”

That actually elicited a grin from Jonathan. If Tom Ferguson could still see the glass half-full, then things weren’t completely hopeless yet. Besides, he did have a point.

“About as good as you surviving this one,” he replied with a smirk.

Tom nodded, and stopped talking. That was when Jonathan noticed how silent the rest of the party was. The only human-made noise (or sort of) that they could hear was the motor of the car a few feet away behind them. And suddenly he found himself not so keen on chatting, either.

Nobody spoke during the next two hours or so.

.⅋.

Sunset was already well under way when the party reached their final destination. An enormous stretch of sky hung over the desert like a great big blue piece of canvas, and the last remnants of what had been a rich, golden light fell on everyone in sight. Every face seemed to be wearing the same tense expression, and Rick marvelled at the fact that, even though the mellow Egyptian sunset light almost always seemed to make everything appear softer than it actually was, everyone around him appeared nothing but grim and very much closed off. Ferguson kept his mouth clamped shut, and even Jonathan hadn’t piped a single word in a couple of hours. He just sat a little stiffly on his saddle, staring down at the sand right in front of him and looking uncharacteristically subdued.

Rick didn’t feel afraid, properly speaking. He felt determined to do anything necessary to stop Hamilton; sick and angry at the prospect of yet another maniac hell bent on doing what he wanted at the cost of mowing down a large part of humanity; wondering exactly what they were going to find down there, in that pyramid; truthfully, he did feel somewhat naked without at least a shotgun at his side… but not really afraid.

In fact, it reminded him very much of a few somewhat similar situations he’d gotten into in his days as a legionnaire, particularly the one that had ended his career in the French Foreign Legion: the Hamunaptra battle. That one had been bad, bad news from the very beginning. Rick had had a nagging doubt at the time – and hindsight had turned the doubt into a certainty – that the colonel in charge of their garrison had known that the Tuareg fiercely guarding the area outnumbered them by hundreds. Maybe the man had truly deluded himself into thinking that his sneaking in to the City of the Dead without orders, then around the place without a certainty or anything to guide him to the Ancient Egyptians’ treasure and back out again was a good idea.

And maybe Rick would have had no problem with that, had Colonel Saint-Herblain decided to act on this on his own, without involving anyone else. But he had to talk the men into the plan. Many as a result had gone willing, lured by the promise of silver and gold and eternal glory. Quite a few had gone enthusiastically, the rest reluctantly, all ill-trained and ill-equipped for such an operation. Rick wondered how many had realised Saint-Herblain had merely used them as cannon fodder, and at which point. To this day, he still did not know whether a mutiny before they left their outpost would have saved lives. Some men were so intent on gold that it made it hard for them to see anything else.

The Tuareg had been watching them from an early stage, and once they had been sure the legionnaires had no place to run to, they had attacked. At the crack of dawn.

Rick remembered how Saint-Herblain, his face ashen, had told them that they had to fight for French honour and for – how’d he put it? – panache. That it was like the Alamo, or something. Something to do for the country you fight for… never mind that they were supposed to fight for French interests and that the French Republic had absolutely no business in the matter. Being a non-commissioned officer and having to obey his superior’s orders, Rick had prepared his men without a word. But the part of him that was usually shrugging and rolling his eyes at stunts and speeches like that was now seething. Literally boiling with anger. Because you don’t do things like that when you’re responsible for the lives of a hundred men. You don’t go out on a wild goose chase when you don’t even know whether you’ll find what you were looking for, but know for a fact that odds are stacked so high against you.

Come to think of it, Hamilton and Saint-Herblain had a lot in common.

He hadn’t blamed Beni for running off, really. Rather, he had been furious at the little bastard for running off and closing the door in his face.

Rick supposed that, if he stopped being sarcastic about it for one second, he could consider himself a man of honour. At least, that was what Ardeth had once said, and though the American was loath to admit it, Ardeth was right about a number of things. One thing he didn’t consider ‘honourable’ was convincing a whole garrison to go in search of a hypothetical treasure in the middle of unsafe territory, and when under attack, tell the men they had to go down fighting for their country, and that it was the best option. The only one, really, except running off.

Which every man should have done, but one. Carrying out an ill-conceived operation to try to take a position with no real strategic importance with such significant loss was inexcusable. The least you could do, after you messed up so bad, was to face the consequences of your actions. And Saint-Herblain had done just the opposite. He had scampered right off, and left his men to their fate – a fate that had been, at the moment, being slaughtered one after the other.

Dying for one man’s whim did not exactly fit Rick’s idea of honour.

Fighting for the lives of millions did seem a little more like it. Theoretically, that’s what you choose to be a soldier for. He had thrown himself into the Legion after that thing with Izzy, the Italian hitman, and the belly-dancer girl because the alternative had been serious jail time, but the spirit had appealed to him.

But why the hell, he thought, swearing under his breath as he looked over at the centre of the camp, did it have to be him on the case again? After all, he’d been through being a soldier for fourteen years now, and in the end that had been a pretty easy choice to make. No more being the one to clean up the mess somebody else was making or had left behind.

Yeah, right. As if.

Rick snorted quietly as he got down his camel and tied it up. The conclusion he’d just reached reminded him a lot of the pillow talk he’d had with Evy the morning after the theft of the Diamond. He’d chided her then for wanting to fix any old sort of disorder, no matter who had created it in the first place. Evelyn O’Connell was like that: willing to take responsibility for her and other people’s messes so that the world could keep turning. It was one of the minor things Rick thought he could definitely do without most of the time. But it was also something that was a big part of his wife’s unyielding, indomitable, passionate character – and, as it was, he definitely couldn’t do without her character to anchor him in reality.

That was why he had come so close to completely losing it as he had entered the pyramid last time to go after the bastards who had murdered his wife.

A camel nuzzled him none too gently from behind, jerking him out of his line of thoughts, and he turned to see which one it was. Sure enough, Jonathan’s ‘faithful mount’ stared at him glumly under heavy eyelids and long camel’s lashes. He almost appeared to be sulking.

“Odds are you’re not gonna get eaten tonight, buddy,” Rick said, checking that the rope was properly tied to its post in the ground. “Relax.”

He could have sworn there was something like relief in the way the beast shook his head and returned to staring placidly at the bustle in front of him. Rick’s eyes followed. All he could see was a number of backs turned to him, all dressed in the same dark suit.

One of the guys in front of him blocking the centre of the camp from his view moved, and he could finally see properly. What he saw there made him stare for a moment, his eyes narrowed.

Obviously, some of Hamilton’s men had been there for a while – or else they worked damn fast. Their tents were bigger, more built to last than the ones he had gotten used to in three nights. There was a buzz, a sense of urgency and efficiency that somehow reminded him of the army, and he didn’t like that idea at all. It felt too well organised. But what was drawing his gaze most of all was the big hole in the middle, lit by several floodlights, where stood ten or twelve feet of big square yellowish stones set in a triangular shape, with an approximate-looking scorpion on the top that ought to have been supporting something…

They had dug up the top of the Pyramid of Ahm Shere.

He heard a low whistle behind him, and an equally low English-accented voice mutter, “Well, they certainly didn’t do their job by half. That’s motivation for you.”

“These blokes probably haven’t had anything else to do for the past weeks,” said another voice behind Rick. “Must be dead easy to get bored when you can’t pick up the wireless…”

The American turned to see Jonathan raise his eyebrows at Ferguson, who was making a rather successful attempt at a goofy grin despite the lack of colour in his cheeks. He felt the corners of his own mouth upturn slightly in spite of himself.

“So, Jon, is that where you took that diamond from?” asked Ferguson, taking a step closer to the pyramid and squinting at the skeletal sculpture of a scorpion on the top. Jonathan nodded dismally.

“Yes. Such a shame, really. I risked my life to get the bloody thing off the ground, and now they’re going to put it back.” Then he bit his lip and shot a quick glance at Ferguson, who looked surprised.

“You risked your – how’s that?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” asked Rick, who, besides the fact that he was enjoying greatly the way Jonathan’s ears were growing pinker by the second, actually welcomed the break in the general tension. “Izzy had showed up on his dirigible in the nick of time to pick us up from the pyramid, and he –” here he jerked a thumb in Jonathan’s direction “– must have slipped or something, because next thing we knew he was dangling upside down from the net on the side of the dirigible. Almost gave us a heart attack. That’s when he saw that diamond.”

Something of a smirk was creeping into Ferguson’s wide-eyed look. He stared incredulously at Jonathan.

“Don’t tell me he – oh, c’mon Jon, even you wouldn’t be stupid enough to –” He let out a short bark of laughter, and Jonathan threw him a dirty glare. Rick couldn’t help but snort.

“Of course he did. Damn heavy thing, too, nearly pulled him down, and nearly pulled me down when I grabbed him. I should’ve just let them both fall then and saved me a world of trouble.”

He grinned brightly at his brother-in-law, who seemed to have momentarily misplaced his sense of humour and looked distinctly miffed. Ferguson gave a low chuckle.

“Never pictured you as the heroic type, Jon. You must’ve looked quite dashing there, hanging down arse over tip like that.”

“Oh, sod off, both of you,” Jonathan muttered under his breath, looking quite determined to remain righteously annoyed despite the fact that a smile seemed to be pulling decidedly at his mouth.

Ferguson shrugged with a grin, then turned his back on what they could see of the pyramid. He started back toward the camp, stopping to call at Rick and Jonathan from over his shoulder, “I thought you were hungry. Come on, it’s now or never, Hamilton wants to open the pyramid when night has completely fallen. Don’t know about you, but I’m not going in there on an empty stomach. Might be our last meal, too,” Rick thought he heard him mumble in an undertone. He wondered at that as he watched the Liverpudlian stride away. The man hadn’t struck him as the pessimistic type of guy so far.

Of course, odds were that he had simply never found himself in such a mess before.

He followed Ferguson from a distance, remembering Hamilton’s snide remark about the ‘company’ he kept. Obviously his boss didn’t consider hanging out with the prisoners an intelligent thing to do. His brother-in-law fell into step beside him, apparently not having caught Ferguson’s little grim aside.

“He’s right,” Rick said with a quick look at Ferguson’s retreating back, “let’s get some food.”

“See, now you’re making sense,” Jonathan agreed fervently, before adding edgeways in Rick’s direction, “At last, we can eat something we haven’t burned.”

Rick shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. “You’re never gonna let me live that one down, are you?”

This time, it was with a grin that Jonathan answered him. “Never, my good son, I’m afraid.”

Dinner was a quiet, tense business. Sitting on the sand eating lumpy stew while being closely watched with both unfriendly eyes and a few loaded, equally unfriendly-looking guns was not an incentive for feeling at ease. Rick downed his portion as fast as he could, and he could guess, from the way Jonathan almost choked on his stew, that he was not the only one who wanted to have the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ferguson barely swallowing anything, despite his earlier remark about empty stomachs. The man looked slightly green around the edges. As for Hamilton, he sat neatly on a blanket on the sand, eating with as much refinement as though he was sharing a lamb and mint sauce with the latest King of England1.

Ten minutes later, the sun had sunk entirely below the horizon, and everybody was gathered around the pyramid. Even though only the top part had been dug out it still towered over their heads from a dozen feet. The light-coloured stones looked so tightly woven together that nobody could have dislodged one. But then, Rick had a hunch they might not need to.

Hamilton appeared, looking cleaner than ever, making every other crony of his look scruffy and dirty in comparison. He held aloft the Diamond of Ahm Shere and began climbing the stones to the scorpion on the top in the centre of the floodlights. It struck Rick – who had not seen it in two years – how big that diamond actually was, and what a miracle it was that nobody had attempted to steal it before for its sheer market value. To him, however, the intricate pattern of pearl and gold made it look ponderous and heavy rather than beautiful.

He noticed Jonathan’s slightly slanted eyes go round as he squirmed on his spot. The American suppressed a sarcastic chuckle. If there had been the slightest chance that his brother-in-law could have leaped at the diamond, run with it under his arm and gotten away with it, he surely would have tried.

Unfortunately, there was no chance in hell.

More straight-backed and pompous than ever, Hamilton delicately put the diamond in the golden scorpion’s pincers. Then he stepped back and all but dropped to the ground, thrown off balance by the shudder that worked its way from the top to the very foundations of the structure. Rick could feel it go down into the sand beneath his feet. When it was over, something gave an ominous groan far beneath the ground.

The beat of his heart sped up slightly. Suddenly he was aware how much the temperature had dropped in so little time since sunset.

While Hamilton climbed down the stones, his face showing nothing but excitement and expectation, Rick glanced sideways at Jonathan. He was still staring at the diamond, but the look on his face had changed: suddenly his features were frozen in apprehension and something like denial. As though the same phrase was going over and over in his head, like a broken record, as it did in Rick’s mind – don’t open don’t open don’t open…

There was a sort of snap, and a small cloud of dust sprang from between two large stones.

Hamilton made a sign. A couple of agents stepped in to dislodge the stone blocks and more men came to help them put them on the ground.

There stood an entrance large and high enough for a man to walk in without even bending much. Being closest to the makeshift door, Rick, along with Hamilton, Jonathan, Ferguson and a couple of other agents, peered inside.

What he could make out when his eyes adjusted to the darkness sent a jolt to his stomach. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered without even realising it. Nobody seemed to hear him.

“Bloody hell!” said Ferguson weakly. Jonathan, his face white in the floodlights, didn’t say anything.

Rick nodded grimly. “Hell’s about right, yeah.”

When the Pyramid of Ahm Shere had sunk into the sand, the oasis that Anubis had created to surround it had been sucked into the ground as well, and into the structure. Now, as they stared at the inside of what one of the ways into the tall gold and stone chambers had become, all they could see was dark green.

The oasis had overrun the pyramid and cosily settled inside it. Creepers and lianas twisted their way around the pillars, across the floor, along the ceiling. They could even hear a faint gurgling noise from the bowels of the thing, as a tiny stream would drip from a higher point down into a pond. Aside from this sound, however, almost nothing else.

It was the jungle again.

.⅋.

1Reference to Edward VIII’s 11 month reign from January to December 1936 and George VI’s subsequent coronation in May 1937.

[bnha-hq]

May ask you the same kind of kageyama angst scenario but with Akaashi and Terushima??

It had been years since she’d broken up with him yethe still remembered it like it was yesterday. Her eyes had been red, lighttrails gave away the many many tears she’d cried before she’d gotten there, herlip was thoroughly chewed and even looked like it’d been bleeding at some pointtoo. Her whole body shook and she had refused to meet his gaze, he had wantedso badly to wrap her in his arms and kiss away her pain but he couldn’t, so he’dstayed where he stood.

“Goodbye Akaashi”

Those words had etched themselves into his very being,it’d had been so long but he just couldn’t get over her. He’d tried going outpartying and gone out to clubs and bars, getting shit faced drunk and leavingwith one night stands, he wasn’t very surprised when he didn’t get anywherewith that. He’d tried the dating scene as well, though every girl he met wasn’tright. They weren’t like her.

Their hair was different, their laugh, their eyes, theway they held themselves in conversation. They were just completely and utterlynot her.

So eventually he ditched the dating scene entirely,Kuroo and Bokuto would still try and hook him, practically begging him to agreeto a blind date with a girl that was totally his down his alley. Of course henever agreed, unless that girl was the girl from all those years ago he wasn’tinterested, was it unhealthy? Probably, but he didn’t know how to stop.

He hadn’t mentioned why she’d wanted to end thingseither, and that alone away ate at him, was it him? Was it her, or both of themor neither of them? He didn’t know and he hated it! He’d been tempted to findher on Facebook or snapchat and ask but he never dared to, he wasn’t sure hewould be strong enough to see her and the new life she’d built. So no matterhow much it hurt, he’d live his life on ‘what ifs’ and ‘could have beens’, notwanting to interfere where he didn’t belong.

So he put all of his time, effort and attention intohis volleyball and schooling, as a result he sailed through university withflying colours. With a shiny new degree and the national volleyball teamwaiting to snatch him up the minute he graduated his life was pretty good, hereally should have been happy.

But he wasn’t.

Once he became known as the national team’s setter hestarted getting a bit of a following, he had gotten love declarations by manywomen and even some men. He tried again to find another partner, someone whocould hopefully fill the void that she’d left behind. So on dates he went, someeven turned into relationships, though whenever he’d think he was finally overher he’d see something that reminded him of her, or would dream of her or smellthe perfume she’d used to wear and he’d go running right back to the shadows,leaving the new relationship for the refuge of his old, drawn out longing, alonging that hurt him so deeply yet was so familiar to him that the pain was morelike hugging an old friend. He felt secure in it, safe even, he knew he coulddeal with this pain, he had been for how many years now? Anything else wasn’tas certain, if he got too attached to another girl and she left him too, withno rhyme or reason, with nothing but a teary goodbye and the view of herleaving what would he do then? He didn’t think he could handle that kind ofrejection again, he really couldn’t.

It was the day of a big game, win this and they’ll go onto play in the Olympics. This was the game, all his hard work, dedication,blood, sweat and tears were going into this moment, so he gave it his all.

On the court was about the only time he could get herout of his mind, the ball covered her face in his mind and the squeaking of thesneakers on the court disguised her laugh, on the court he was, if only for alittle while, free of the longing.

The game went perfectly, he was at the top of his game.His tosses were perfect each and every time, he was on top of the world!

The game ended, they had won by a landslide. The teamcheered and so did the crowd.

“Wooo! Akaashi!”

Akaashi’s blood ran cold, that voice so different buthe’d remember it all the same. He turned to the stands and searched, almostfrantically, for the girl who’d unknowingly tormented his soul and owned hisheart wholly and solely for years.

He saw her, young child in arms and waving frantically.He didn’t wait for the team or to bow he just ran, ducking and weaving through thecrowd to find her.

“____! Where are you?!”He was soon face to face with her. He looked a little older, more mature thanshe had looked that night and be damned she was more beautiful than heremembered her being.

His mouth went dry, his heartbeat hammered wildly inhis chest he was worried he’d break a rib. He glanced at the child in her arms,her hair sat on his head and his eyes stared back at him. He knew right awaythis kid was his, he just knew. His mind was running a millions thoughts asecond, he tried to make sense of the scene in front of him. This kid was his,no doubt but that means it was before they broke up? Did she know? Surely not,she wouldn’t have left and not told him about something like this right?

She eventually spoke.

“I didn’t want to drag you down…if…if I had told you,you wouldn’t be here now, successful and ahead in your passion.”

He couldn’t be angry, not at her and especially not atthe reason she’d given him. To hold the world on her shoulders to make thelives of those she loves a little easier was so so entirely her.

“I-I understand if you want nothing to do with us, Ijust thought it was time you knew…if you don’t though I’ll go-“

“Don’t!” He cried a little louder than he hadintended.

“I want to be with you, to be a dad, I want it all…pleaselet me be that” he all but begged, he wasn’t going to focus on the past and hewas done dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ and ‘could have beens’. He was ready tofocus on the here and now, with the most beautiful woman he’d ever known rightthere with him and their child, what more could he want in life?

Tears fell onto her cheeks, the child gasped and wipedher tears and he felt his heart melt.

“I’d love you to.”

With that answer he did what he’d wanted to do for solong, he held her close and he kissed her.

She watched the game, watching as Tsukki blocked aspike impressively and earn a friendly slap on the back by a teammate thatpushed him forward a bit. She chuckled, the longing in her chest beginning toache just a little more.

He had done so well, just as she knew he would, and nomatter how many lonely nights she endured while her daughter cried in her arms,or the pain she felt whenever she thought about him, she knew it was the right choice.He was thriving, thriving in a way she knew he couldn’t had she stayed and toldhim the truth and that wasn’t fair. She had no big aspirations for the future,no career goal in mind or a talent like him, she could afford to have the babyand deal with all those consequences but Tsukki, he couldn’t, she couldn’t imaginewhat he would be like had he stayed, maybe he would have still ended up here butwhat if he hadn’t? What if he had to quit volleyball and work some office jobhe hated? He’d grow to resent her and the baby and that thought broke her heartmore than any break up could.

She found herself thinking of the break up often,whenever she looked at her daughter she was reminded of him and remembering himalways reminded her of that night.

She’d asked to meet up with him, it was cold and wet andrather fitting she’d thought. She’d been sick all day, nausea spells happeningregularly and doing nothing to improve her mood. She’d arrived, sick and wetand wanting this over with as little pain as possible.

She’d given some half ass excuse about how they justweren’t working out and that he deserved better, she could hardly speak. Shewas worried she would break down and confess to everything but she didn’t, shestayed strong and followed the break up through as she’d rehearsed in herbedroom mirror over and over again.

He’d stared at her for what felt like an eternitybefore nodding slightly, he’d wrapped his coat around her shivering frame and kissedher cheek before wishing her the best for the future and walking off.

She doesn’t remember crying harder than she did thatnight, the memory of him walking away as their child grew within her hauntedher for the entire pregnancy, every kick, every ultrasound, the birth itself,all of it, while amazing moments, were filled with longing and mourning. Shelonged so painfully for him, mourned for what they had and felt so incrediblyguilty that she was feeling any of these things in the first place. She hadbroken up with him, why did she think she had the right to feel bad for it?

She had finally settled her daughter down, she wrappedher in the coat Tsukki had given her the last night she saw him, it had becomeher blanket, a little piece of her father that she could have, since she’d selfishlydenied her anything more.

It was the right choice…at least that’s what she toldherself, but she always had that little voice questioning that. Was it herplace to deny her daughter a father and a father his daughter for what shethought would be best? At the time it seemed so reasonable, but at the time shewas also young, scared and hopelessly in love. So for the umpteenth shequestioned her choices, and for the umpteenth time she reasoned that it was theright choice. Her resolve chipping away with each question asked.

Tsukishima had done what he could to get her out ofhis mind, he threw himself into the game, giving his all at every turn and thensome. He didn’t care for the party scene and especially not the dating scene,he’d known the reason she gave was fake, a cover up for something deeper yet hedidn’t press. He often wondered if he should have, would things have turned outdifferently had he insisted on her telling him the truth? What could the reasonhave been? That thought ate at him every single day, they plagued his mind andhe suspected were the reason he couldn’t move on, not completely. He loved her,this was obvious enough but what could he do? Nothing, which frustrated him somuch, he couldn’t find her on social media, which didn’t surprise him, shenever was the one for that kind of thing, and honestly neither was he, he hadonly made any of his accounts in the hopes that he would find her.

Only on the court was he able to redirect all hisinner turmoil, his grief and loneliness meant nothing in raising points so theywere shoved to the back of his mind, and their they remained until the finalwhistle blew. Once it had they’d return though, they would shoot to theforefront of his mind with a vengeance, be it a victory or a loss. Though itwas usually worse when it was a victory, he’d go out with the team to celebratebut in the end they’d all leave with their partners and he’d be left to his owndevices, her on his mind.

Though despite knowing all this, he still gave it hisall, part of him was hoping she was out there, watching him on t.v and cheeringhim on, like she’d done back in high school.

As they scored their final point, securing the set andwinning the game the crowd erupted into cheers, the pride he felt wasn’tovershadowed but the mourning, not yet at least. They went to the crowd to bow,his head down when he heard it.

“You’re still the best!”

It was uneasy and hard to hear over the crowd but itwas her, it could be no one else. He looked up quickly and there she was, inthe front row cheering for him like she always had.

He couldn’t stop himself, he ran over and picked herup in a tight hug, it was unlike him to show his emotions like this but she washere! The woman he’d longed for for so long was finally here!

He felt her arms wrap around him and squeeze tight, asmaller hand grabbing onto his leg.

He looked down and saw her, beautiful eyes and long blondehair. He looked at the child then back to her. She turned away, guilt writtenacross her face.

“She’s yours…we…have a lot to discuss.”

He had formed his own image in his head about thestory, and while he felt a twinge of anger at being lied to and denied theopportunity to be a dad but he was just so overcome with happiness to see her andto learn that he even was a dad that it was hardly heard.

“We’ll discuss it later, but for now” he picked hisdaughter up and hugged them both tightly. The pain he’d held onto for so long,the darkness he carried finally chased away by her warm light.

He had the love of his life and their future in hisarms, and be damned if he was letting that go.

[phoenixgirlreviews-blog]

A Blessing In Disguise Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here

Theresa was hanging onto a huge boulder on top of a waterfall, looking up at a small group of people crowding around above her, with one young blonde-haired woman with bright blue eyes reaching out towards her.

“Hang on, Theresa!” she yelled. “Just hang on!”

“I’m trying!” Theresa yelled as she nearly lost her grip on the boulder and she tightened her grip even more, determined to not let go.

She looked down to see a much older stern-looking woman with dark black hair and blue eyes and an elderly man clinging to her legs. Theresa then mustered all of her strength to pull herself up to safety, but to no avail.

“I can’t! They’re too heavy!”

“Don’t worry, Theresa! Everything’s going to be just fine! Just focus and don’t let go!” a brown-haired man with a scruffy face and an average build bellowed as he also reached out to help her.

Theresa then looked into his eyes and felt herself freeze in astonishment. For some reason she wasn’t feeling particularly scared, worried or frightened. She actually felt… safe.

Safe?

How could she possibly be safe around this man? She doesn’t even know him, much less his name.

But before Theresa could entertain any more questions in her head, her fingers suddenly slipped and she was tumbling down rapidly towards the rushing and crashing water, screaming and flailing for her life along with her companions.

“Theresa!”

Theresa screamed out with pure and blood-chilling terror as she fell faster and faster to her doom.

Then before she knew it, everything went black.

Theresa shot up in her bed, panting and hyper-ventilating with her heart racing and throttling wildly in her chest and her body covered in sweat. She took a couple of deep, calming breaths and she briefly glanced over at her alarm clock.

2 a.m.

Theresa ran her hands through her face, exhaling sharply and massaging her temples. This was the third time this week that she had been having this nightmare, and she wasn’t exactly sure why.

At first Theresa rationalized that maybe it was just because she was mentally adjusting to her new surroundings and her anxiety was somehow manifesting into these weird and bizarrely vivid dreams. But now she wasn’t so sure anymore.

As far as she could tell, Tate seemed to be adjusting rather well to his new home, as well as any normal 2-year-old would be. Sure sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night, crying and begging for Maggie and Victor and sometimes for his dad, which was perfectly normal considering how close he had been to all of them, especially his dad.

After all, it was Brady who had first suspected that Tate was his son, even before Theresa did, although she had nagging suspicions for a long time beforehand that something was horribly wrong after Kristen had her goons kidnap her and also arranged to have her baby stolen from her womb.

Theresa shook her thoughts out of her mind. Now was not the time to think about that. She had a whole new chapter in her life to build. Kristen DiMera was dead and she and Brady are responsible and mature parents now, and most importantly – sober. No one was going to take away the greatest joy of their entire lives from them, not even a deranged psychopath like her.

Theresa then fell onto her back again and closed her eyes, begging and praying for sleep to overtake her again.

--

The very next day, Theresa walked into General Hospital with Tate in the stroller as she sat down in the waiting room, waiting to be called up for her appointment.

While she was leafing through a local tabloid magazine, a young and attractive dark-haired woman appearing to be in her early to mid 30s and wearing a purple nurse’s outfit passed by her and then noticed her sitting there.

“Oh hey there, haven’t seen you around before. Are you visiting a relative here?”

“Actually no; I just moved here a couple of days ago,” Theresa answered, glancing up from her magazine.

“Oh really?” the woman smiled earnestly and then held out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Webber. But everyone around here calls me Liz.”

“Theresa. Theresa Donovan,” Theresa replied, smiling and accepting her handshake. “I’m from Salem, Illinois. I’ve lived there for about 4 years before coming up here. But before that I was living in L.A.”

“Oh wow, sounds really amazing!” Liz exclaimed in astonishment. “Seems like that would’ve been a very cool place to live.”

“Yeah, it was… for a while anyway,” Theresa bit her lip, averting her gaze hesitantly. “My stepdad worked with a lot of famous and well known producers in Hollywood and some of them would even come over to my house sometimes for dinner. But that was a long time ago.”

“Oh…” Liz frowned, noticing Theresa’s reticence. “Sounds like you aren’t very comfortable talking about your childhood.”

“It wasn’t exactly the easiest or the happiest,” Theresa explained with a sigh, narrowing her eyes sullenly. “My parents split up right after I was born and I never got to see my dad very much because he was away working all the time.”

“My mom was also too preoccupied with her work as a child psychiatrist to take care of me and my brother Andrew properly and as a result we were left alone with Philip a lot. Suffice to say he wasn’t exactly the nicest or most pleasant person to be around.”

“Well, what happened with him?” Liz asked.

“He was a tyrant and a total asshole; he would often take out his rage on me when Mom wasn’t looking and blame me for a lot of crap that wasn’t even my fault. I was also angry at my mom for basically driving my dad away and for a long time I hated her for not only ignoring me and neglecting me but for also devoting so much time and attention towards Andrew. He was like the kid that could do absolutely no wrong in my parents’ eyes. It was pretty obvious as far as I was concerned who the real favorite was.”

Theresa paused, breathing deeply to keep herself from shaking from the painful memories flashing in her head.

“But it’s okay. It’s not like he’s my real dad anyway. It’s old news and I’m not interested in hashing out all that old family drama again. And I’m just so glad that my parents are finally back together after all this time.”

“And the best part is that ever since I had my son Tate, our relationship has improved tenfold and we got even closer when I had my bout with breast cancer last year.”

“Well, congratulations, Theresa,” Liz beamed and she bent down to look at Tate with a disarming and sweet smile. “And he is such a cutie. You and your husband must be so proud.”

“Oh, well actually I’m not married,” Theresa flashed a sheepish grin at the comment. “Well, not anymore anyway. It’s… kind of a long story. You see, I had a very turbulent and complicated relationship with the father of my child and we were super knee deep into drugs and alcohol back then.”

“We were so screwed up mentally and psychologically that we even went to Vegas and got married on a whim. The day that we finally got our marriage annulled, we actually had one last romp in the sack and then… well you know the rest.”

Theresa then laughed nervously with a slow face-palm, gazing up at the ceiling with pure disbelief and incredulity.

“God, I was so selfish and narcissistic back then, thinking that I was so entitled to his love and money. We weren’t exactly good for each other, but at the same time, Tate was the absolute best thing that ever happened to us. When he came along, we had no choice but to clean up and get sober for our little boy. I always say to everybody that kid represents the very best part of us. My brains and his heart.”

“That is so sweet,” Liz replied and then breathed deeply while running her hand through her hair. “Well, I’m not exactly the best role model when it comes to healthy and long term relationships either. I have three boys with three different guys.”

“The father of my eldest son Cameron got killed in a horrible shoot-out with the police and the father of my youngest son Aiden just… ran off and disappeared one day. I haven’t really heard from him since and sometimes I don’t even know if he’s even alive anymore. At least you know where Tate’s dad is.”

“Well… I can do a hell lot worse,” Theresa shrugged. “I could’ve ended up with a total psycho for a dad like Cal Winters and I also could’ve ended up with an assassin for a dad who kills people for a living.”

“Well… my middle son Jake has a dad who is in a um… very similar profession,” Liz forced a nervous and uncomfortable smile as she says this.

Theresa let out a loud exhale with a small chuckle.

“Welp… Brady may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’s one of the nicest and most compassionate and wonderful guys you’ll ever meet.”

“Great, so can I have his number?” Liz quipped.

Theresa laughed with a knowing glare. “I don’t think so, girlfriend. Brady is already spoken for.”

Liz then stepped back, holding up her hands defensively.

“Okay, chill. I was just asking.”

“Theresa Donovan?” an innocent and doe-eyed woman with a slender build, long, dark brown hair and wearing a doctor’s outfit appeared out of her office as she approached the two women.

“Oh hey,” Theresa greeted her as she stood up and shook her hand. “Dr. Kim Nero, right?”

“That’s right,” Kim nodded with a warm smile. “You must be Theresa Donovan. Welcome to Port Charles.”

“Oh thank you,” Theresa replied as she grabbed her stroller and turned to face Liz.

“It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can set up a play date with our boys and hang out sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Liz nodded as she walked away. “I’ll leave you to it. Gotta get back to work.”

“Alright, bye,” Theresa grinned as she watched Liz disappear into a corner.

“Well, well, well, looks like you made a brand new friend,” Kim smiled as Theresa whipped around to face her. “You must be pretty popular.”

“Well, maybe a lot more now than when I was a kid,” Theresa shrugged.

“Come on into my office then,” Kim beckoned her as Theresa followed her into the examination room.

As soon as the two women entered the room, Theresa took a seat on a metal chair right near the door while Kim sauntered over to the counter and looked over her clipboard, examining its contents carefully.

Theresa glanced over at Kim with a thin line, looking very puzzled and befuddled. Kim then sensed that Theresa was watching her and turned around to face her.

“What is it?”

Theresa then let out a small, sheepish laugh, grinning bashfully.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I could almost swear that you look a lot like someone that used to be in Salem.”

“Really? Who?” Kim asked.

Theresa grabbed the handlebar of the stroller, rocking it slowly back and forth with her right hand as Tate slept.

“My uncle Steve used to be involved with a woman named Ava Vitale a long time ago. She was really obsessed with him and she tried to break up his relationship with my aunt Kayla numerous times. They actually met during a period where everyone thought that Uncle Steve was dead and he didn’t even know who he was.”

“Wow, sounds insane,” Kim’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Yep,” Theresa nodded. “You seem a lot nicer though.”

“I’m sure a lot of my friends and family can attest to that,” Kim chuckled as she turned back to her clipboard.

“Now then… your son’s name is Tate Donovan Black, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And his birth date?”

Theresa flinched nervously. She and Brady were never really sure when exactly Tate was born, seeing as he was with Kristen in Italy at the time, but then they went to a doctor to try to determine how old he actually was. He then determined that Tate was anywhere from a couple days to a couple weeks old, so his parents concluded that he was probably born sometime in mid to late March.

“March 30th, 2015.”

“Okay, so he’s 2 years old,” Kim nodded. “What about his medical history?”

“Well…” Theresa frowned, tapping on her face thoughtfully. “He did have a congenital illness that required a bone marrow transplant. But other than that, he’s been perfectly fine. He’s been putting on weight and he’s hitting all his milestones like he’s supposed to.”

“Excellent!” Kim beamed as she then looked up right at Theresa. “I also see that his immunizations are all up to date and he’s due for another one very soon. Let me take a look at him.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Theresa urged as she unbuckled Tate from his stroller and handed him off to Kim.

Kim then brought him over to the examination table and checked out his ears and eyes first.

“Okay, now say aw,” Kim instructed and Tate opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Kim then examined his throat with a light and studied it carefully, nodding with great interest.

“Uh huh… Uh huh…”

Kim then pivoted around to face Theresa with a solemn expression.

“He may be developing a little bit of a sore throat. You might want to get that taken care of as soon as possible.”

“Okay, sure,” Theresa nodded, a bit concerned and nervous.

Damn it, I’m such an idiot! Why the hell didn’t I notice that?!

Kim then listened to his heart for a few minutes and moved on to check his lungs.

“Okay, Tate, now I want you to breathe in and out deeply a couple of times.”

Tate nodded and did as he was told.

Kim then turned back towards Theresa with a satisfied smile.

“Well, his lungs and heart are both fine. It’s just that sore throat you need to worry about. I’ll write out a prescription for some medication just in case so we can nip this problem right in the bud. You can pick it up when you get to the pharmacy.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Theresa nodded gratefully as she went to pick up Tate from the examination table and placed him back into the stroller.

“Oh, and Theresa?” Kim interjected.

“Yeah?” Theresa raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

Kim smiled warmly with a compassionate and understanding gleam in her eyes.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know how difficult it can be raising a kid all by yourself sometimes.”

“Wait, you have a kid too?” Theresa questioned her suspiciously.

Kim averted her gaze with a wistful expression.

“Well, he’s not so little anymore. His name is Oscar and he’s in high school now. His father Drew came to town a while ago and now we’re both trying to do the absolute best we can with him.”

“Just like me and Brady,” Theresa murmured pensively.

She then glanced up at Kim again.

“So what’s Oscar like?”

“He is the most loving and sweetest boy that you’ll ever meet. He is also extremely thoughtful and intelligent and he does very well in school. I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

“I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful and amazing boy like my Tater Tot either,” Theresa gushed excitedly, overjoyed and thrilled that she got to brag about her offspring with a fellow single mom.

Kim then broke out into a short laugh, amused.

“That’s your nickname for Tate? That’s so adorable.”

“Yeah, I just started calling him that when I first brought him home and it has stuck ever since,” Theresa explained with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure that by the time he goes to high school though that he’s going to start hating me for that nickname but until then I’ll just be more than happy to keep using it without any shame or embarrassment.”

“All right then,” Kim nodded as Theresa got up and started heading out the door. “See you in six months?”

“Yeah,” Theresa replied and just as she was about to leave, a lanky and gawky brown-haired teenage boy walked right through the door.

“Oh, hey Mom,” the boy greeted Kim in a friendly and earnest voice.

“Hey, Oscar,” Kim beamed as she walked over to him and hugged him. “How was school?”

“Good,” Oscar nodded and then he stopped the moment he met eyes with Theresa. “Um, Mom, who is that?”

“Oh, this is one of my patients, Theresa Donovan,” Kim answered as she gestured over to her. “Theresa, this is my son Oscar.”

“Hey, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Theresa said.

“Likewise,” Oscar nodded.

He then turned to his mother. “Mom, I’m going over to Josslyn’s house to study with her. Is that okay?”

“Sure thing, honey,” Kim answered.

“Cool, thanks Mom!” Oscar grinned as he rushed out the door again.

Kim chuckled while shaking her head. “Aw, teenagers. Just wait till Tate becomes one, Theresa. Then you’re going to wish that he was a cute little munchkin again.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Theresa retorted in a sardonic and wry voice and she also headed out of the room. “See ya, Dr. Nero.”

“See ya,” Kim waved goodbye as she watched Theresa leave.

As Theresa was walking through the lobby of the hospital, she was full of smiles as she was mentally relieving her meetings with both Liz and Kim.

Wow, I never would’ve imagined that everyone would be so nice here. I honestly thought this town would be filled with nothing but assholes and creeps. Maybe Port Charles isn’t nearly as bad as New York City itself. I think I’m really gonna like it here-

But then Theresa was abruptly jolted out of her thoughts the minute she felt the stroller crash something and she nearly fell onto the handlebar. She glanced down just in time to see a much older woman bending down and frantically picking up a clipboard and a couple of loose papers. When the woman finally rose to her feet with her things, Theresa froze in horror and fear the minute she got a very good look at her.

She was very stern and severe looking with a long nose and sharp, intense blue eyes and her long, black hair was tied neatly into a bun. She was also wearing a white doctor’s outfit and had on a pair of black boots.

“You stupid girl, watch where you’re going!” the woman snarled in German with a curt sneer on her lips as Theresa suddenly stepped back with pure dread and terror in her eyes, clutching tightly onto her stroller. Tate began to whimper and sniffle with fearful tears seeping out of his eyes.

“Mommy!”

“Hey, Doctor!” a deep, brassy, female voice bellowed as a large, portly, middle-aged black woman charged right into the area and stared the other woman down fearlessly. “Leave that poor girl alone!”

The elderly German woman growled and stormed off, not wanting to have a confrontation right in the middle of the lobby.

Theresa then let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding and sighed in relief.

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” she informed the older black woman. “I got so scared; I didn’t know what to do. That strange lady literally came out of nowhere and just started raving and yelling at me in this really weird language…”

“Think nothing of it, child,” the older black woman waved her hand dismissively with a reassuring, disarming smile. “That was Dr. Obrecht. Don’t pay any mind to her.”

She then noticed that Tate was still shaking and crying and she bent down to pick him up and cradle him in her arms.

“Awww, you poor baby. Did that mean old lady scare you?” she cooed softly.

Tate nodded as he kept on sniffling and whimpering. The older black woman then pulled him into a hug and comforted him.

“It’s all right, little one. Auntie Epiphany is here. Nobody is gonna hurt you or your momma when she’s around.”

Tate then gradually began to calm down and relax as he buried his face on the crook of her shoulder, still trembling.

“Hey, I never got to ask you what your name is,” Theresa interjected.

“Just call me Epiphany. I’m an old friend of Liz’s,” Epiphany explained as she rubbed soothing circles on Tate’s back. “Any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

“Theresa,” Theresa said with a confident yet self-restrained smile. “I’m Theresa Donovan.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Epiphany smirked. “Liz told me all about you.”

“She did?” Theresa quipped with a curious eyebrow.

“Yeah, she sure liked you enough,” Epiphany replied. “Listen, if you ever need anything or you just want somebody to talk to, you can come to me.”

She then handed Tate back to Theresa as she put him back into the stroller.

“Um, thanks, Epiphany. I’ll hold you to it.”

Theresa then rushed off with the stroller as she quickly made a mad dash out of the hospital.

“See ya!”

--

Later that evening, Theresa hired a babysitter to look after Tate while she went out to Charlie’s to unwind and have fun. She was sitting alone at a table, slowly sipping on a pink strawberry martini.

She saw a couple of people file into the bar and got their drinks as they sat down together and had a good laugh. Theresa nodded dumbly and just ignored them, continuing to sip on her drink.

Just then, a couple of young blonde women appearing to be in their early to mid 30s came over to Theresa’s table and sat down with her.

“Hey, what are you doing sitting here alone?” the younger of the two asked her.

Theresa shrugged weakly, not exactly in the mood to engage in any sort of conversation.

“Just chilling.”

“Just chilling?” the older of the two blonde women reiterated incredulously, narrowing her blue eyes and glancing briefly at her companion. “Don’t be silly. Lulu and I are not letting you sit here all by yourself.”

Theresa took another sip of her drink and pointed at them.

“So one of you is Lulu?”

“Yeah,” the latter nodded. “I’m Lulu and this is my best friend Maxie.”

Maxie grinned enthusiastically.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Theresa offered a weak smile. “I’m Theresa. My son and I just moved here.”

“So where is he?” Maxie asked.

“He’s with the babysitter,” Theresa mumbled, making a sudden and odd wave of the hand. “His name is Tate.”

“So are you married?” Lulu inquired.

“Lulu!” Maxie hissed, elbowing her sharply.

“You wish,” Theresa smirked sarcastically, taking more sips out of her martini.

Lulu then studied her intently, narrowing her eyes.

“Um, no offense, but you seriously look like hell.”

“Is it that obvious?” Theresa giggled, rolling her eyes. “Well, that’s because I’ve had a hell of a day. My son may be coming down with a sore throat, I’ve been having recurring and vivid nightmares for the last couple of days and I almost ran over an old German lady with my own son’s stroller.”

“Yeah that ‘old German lady’ is my mother-in-law,” Maxie retorted while exchanging weird and befuddled glances with Lulu.

Theresa nearly choked on her vodka as she coughed and gasped violently, pounding on her chest. After taking a couple of minute to catch her breath, she gawked at Maxie.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, her name is Liesl Obrecht. She’s one of the many doctors that work at GH,” Maxie explained.

“Oh my God…” Theresa groaned as she sank into her chair while slowly running her hand on her face. “I cannot fucking believe this.”

“What?” Lulu asked.

“Your mother-in-law scared the living daylights out of my son and she nearly ripped me to shreds!” Theresa yelled angrily, clutching her drink tightly. “She probably would have had me for lunch if Epiphany hadn’t stepped in!”

“Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that, Theresa,” Maxie frowned sympathetically. “But please don’t blame yourself. Liesl isn’t exactly the easiest person to live with, trust me. Just don’t take it too personally.”

“Well, all right then,” Theresa averted her eyes with a sullen glare. “I suppose you’re right.”

Just then a group of young people sauntered into the bar and sat down at another table. Theresa then looked up to see a dashing young man with boyishly good looks and short, cropped, dark black hair.

“Wow, who is that?” Theresa gawked in amazement upon noticing the young man sitting several feet away from her.

“Well um… That’s Michael Corinthos, Sonny and Carly’s son,” Maxie replied, glancing over to see him.

“Really?” Theresa smirked, her face suddenly brightening up and her posture straightening up dramatically. “Well, I better say hi to this gorgeous, sexy hunk then!”

She then bolted out of the table and confidentially sashayed over to where Michael was sitting.

Lulu and Maxie grimaced anxiously together with worried looks.

“You didn’t tell her that he already has a girlfriend, did you?”

“Nope.”

Michael was sitting around with his friends laughing and drinking beers when one of them noticed Theresa approaching their table with a huge bounce in her step.

“Hey, who is that girl?” Brad asked.

“I have no idea,” Lucas shrugged.

“Beats me,” Dante interjected.

Nathan just took a swig of his beer, smirking with pure amusement.

Once Theresa reached the table, she tapped Michael on the shoulder. Michael then stopped what he was doing and turned around to see her gushing and beaming at him with entranced eyes.

“Oh, hey, miss. What is your name?”

“My name is Theresa. What’s yours, sexy face?”

Dante then coughed to hold back a laugh with his fist covering his mouth. Lucas and Brad snickered and gave themselves a high five.

Michael just smiled politely, tickled pink that the new girl in town was taking such blatant interest in him.

“My name is Michael Corinthos III. But you call me Michael.”

“What brings you here then, Michael?” Theresa asked.

“Just hanging out with my buddies,” Michael replied, turning back to face the other men.

“Cool! Me too,” Theresa squealed, feeling extremely excited and giddy at getting the chance to speak with her new crush.

“You friends with Lulu and Maxie?” Lucas queried, beckoning over towards Maxie and Lulu.

Theresa glanced back at the two women and nodded.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why don’t you come and sit with us?” Nathan offered, pulling up another seat. “We’d really love to get to know you better.”

“Really?” Theresa’s eyes gleamed as she glanced back at Maxie and Lulu for reassurance and Maxie nodded.

Theresa then nodded and was about to join the men when suddenly Nelle came gliding through the door and flew over to Michael, swooping her arms around him.

“Hey, babe,” she said as she and Michael shared a kiss.

Theresa’s face then suddenly drained of color and she suddenly felt faint and dizzy, horrified and appalled that her latest chance at love had officially been shot to hell. Brad then noticed that Theresa was shivering and trembling with her eyes filled with sheer dismay and disbelief.

“Um, are you okay, Theresa?” Brad inquired concernedly.

“I uh… I gotta go!” Theresa exclaimed as she was now suddenly scrambling to exit out of Charlie’s.

But just when things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Obrecht walked right through the door and stopped right in her path, baffled and aghast that their paths have crossed again for the second time that day.

Theresa stopped and stared silently at the older German woman for a moment, not moving or reacting. But then within a matter of minutes her face quickly changed into an ugly and vicious snarl, her eyes flashing with a furious and evil gleam.

“You…”

Obrecht growled back, her fists clenching tightly.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a thick accent.

Theresa then let out an arrogant laugh. “So you actually do speak English.”

“You watch your tongue, you insolent little girl!” Obrecht snapped back.

“Little?!” Theresa shrieked, now showing up her fists and taking a step forward with a menacing stance. “I’ll show you little, you ugly old hag!”

“Ugly, old hag?!” Obrecht spat with a contemptuous glare. “You stupid kids have no respect and appreciation for your elders! I’ll show you respect!”

She then delivered a swift backhand to Theresa’s face, sending her reeling to the ground. Theresa then got up to her feet, still feeling the stinging impact of the blow on her face. After taking a couple of minutes to collect her bearings, she then charged right at Obrecht with a scream and gave her a swift kick to the face. Obrecht nearly recoiled from the blow as she held up her nose, which began to bleed profusely.

She removed her hand and saw that there was blood pooling in the palm of her hand. Everyone gasped with horror as they all realized that the fight was about to take a very ugly turn.

Obrecht then pounced her to the ground and began to assail her with several punches and uppercuts to the face and jaw. Theresa did her best to fend off the blows as she punched and slapped her repeatedly in the face. She then delivered another swift kick to the chin, forcing Obrecht to roll off her.

Just then, Julian, Dante and Nathan rushed over to the two women and Nathan and Dante helped Obrecht get up on her feet.

“Easy, Mother. You’re badly hurt,” Nathan shushed her gently as Obrecht whined in pain, her eyes black and blue and her nose all a bloody mess. Julian then grabbed Theresa and helped her up too.

“All right, you ladies out,” he ordered as the three men helped the women out of the bar.

--

It was over an hour later and Theresa was lying in a hospital bed fully bandaged up, as was Obrecht. The two women were now recuperating in separate rooms as Nathan and Maxie were staying with Obrecht and Lulu, Dante, Michael, Nelle, Brad, and Lucas were staying with Theresa.

Theresa groaned and sobbed in bed, lying weakly on her back.

“Mother, what the hell were you thinking?” Nathan demanded.

“She disrespected me,” Obrecht growled in exasperation and anger, wincing and grimacing. “And I needed to teach her a lesson.”

“Well that doesn’t mean that you get to beat up a defenseless, tiny girl in the middle of a frickin’ bar!” Maxie chastised her.

“She started it! And she broke my nose!” Obrecht protested.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Liesl,” Maxie crossed her arms sternly.

“Just get some rest, Mother. We’ll see you in the morning,” Nathan instructed her as he and Maxie left.

“Nathan…” Obrecht pouted as she turned to glare at Theresa.

“This is all your fault. If you only have kept your mouth shut…”

“Well maybe you should stop acting like a psychotic maniac and then perhaps you might have more friends around here,” Theresa snapped.

“I don’t need any friends. All I need is Nathan, Maxie, Nina and Franco,” Obrecht insisted.

“Okay, suit yourself,” Theresa rolled her eyes and closed her eyes to sleep.

Obrecht then rolled her eyes and also went to sleep.

--

When Theresa finally got discharged from the hospital, she spent the next several days recuperating at home. She was also banned from going to Charlie’s for at least a month for the bar fight with Obrecht.

As a matter of courtesy, Theresa called Maxie up to personally apologize to her for picking a fight with Obrecht in the first place. Maxie accepted the apology, but Obrecht still refused to forgive or even acknowledge her.

Then the day finally arrived for Theresa’s big interview with Crimson. She put on her best work clothes and makeup, hired a babysitter to watch Tate again, and drove off to meet with her prospective new boss.

Once Theresa arrived at the lobby of the Aurora Media building, she came across a beautiful and attractive brunette woman with a slender and thin build, accompanied by a muscular built man with dark brown hair and a scruffy face.

“Oh hey! I’m here for the Crimson interview. Do you know where it is?” Theresa asked.

“Yeah, it’s right upstairs,” the woman answered, gesturing towards the elevator.

She then offered a hand.

“By the way, I’m Sam McCall. This is my husband Drew McCain.”

“Hey,” Theresa beamed as she shook both of their hands.

“Hey, if you’re here for Nina, you can just wait in the office. She’ll be here soon,” Drew explained.

“Okay, thanks,” Theresa replied as she quickly raced for the elevator.

Just as she got there, another tall and lanky woman with long, blondish brown hair and an athletic build caught up to her as they both entered the elevator. Once the doors closed, they soon ascended up the floors as they were heading for their destination.

Theresa then glanced over to see who was standing right next to her and gave a polite smile.

“Hey, are you working for Crimson too? Because I’m heading there right now for an interview.”

“I’m Nina,” the woman announced, looking over at her.

Theresa jumped in surprise, not having expecting to run into her like this.

“Um… wow…” she stammered as she gave her a once over. “I wasn’t really expecting you to um…”

Theresa collapsed on the back of the elevator, feeling particularly overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“Jesus, I honestly thought you were going to be some old lady or something…”

Nina chuckled with a playful smirk. “Nope, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Okay,” Theresa laughed.

“So you’re Theresa, right?” Nina raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah,” Theresa nodded.

Nina then studied her carefully, eyeing her recent injuries.

“That a black eye you got there?”

“Yeah… that was from a bar fight from a couple of days ago,” Theresa answered nervously, feeling very uncomfortable.

“I’m guessing that was over a guy, right?” Nina quipped emphatically.

“Yeah…” Theresa’s eyes darted to and fro, feeling even more apprehensive. “Something like that.”

The elevator doors opened and Nina and Theresa stepped out as they headed for the Crimson office. Upon entering, Nina advanced towards her desk and took a seat. Theresa also sat down right in front of her, her resume in hand.

“All right then. Let’s get started,” Nina announced as she grabbed her resume and looked it over.

“Huh, interesting. Seems like you have quite the work history.”

“Yeah, I only have a high school education,” Theresa frowned. “I don’t even have a college degree to speak of. But I was able to hold down my job at human resources at the hospital back in Salem and I did build a brand new fashion house with my former partner Nicole Walker from the ground up.”

“Well, for someone with a high school education and with a history of drug addiction, that is extremely impressive,” Nina mused, continuing to read over her resume. “Not to mention that you were on parole for roughly two years too while you were in Salem.”

“Yeah, I had to get my act together,” Theresa shrugged. “I needed that good ol’ kick in the butt to straighten myself out. Although sometimes I kind of slip back into some pretty bad habits.”

“Like that bar fight with my Aunt Liesl?” Nina questioned her suspiciously.

“What?!” Theresa gawked with a start. “How in the blazes did you know about that?”

“Maxie told me,” Nina answered coolly. “She also works here, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh…” Theresa inhaled sharply, feeling suddenly awkward and humiliated. “Well, she did tell me that she was her mother-in-law.”

“Yeah, well that’s because Nathan is also my brother,” Nina replied. “And he’s a cop.”

“Okay…” Theresa scratched the back of her head. “That would explain why he helped those other officers drag us out of Charlie’s the other night. But you see… that was totally not entirely my fault. Liesl was the one that came snapping at me unprovoked. I didn’t even do anything. I only just accidentally bumped into her with my stroller.”

“Wait, you have a kid?” Nina asked.

“Yeah,” Theresa answered. “A son – Tate. He’s 2-years-old. I’m currently sharing joint custody with his dad Brady, which coincidentally was also my ex-husband, and if you were to ask around any of my old friends and associates back in Salem, that was a relationship that probably shouldn’t even have happened in the first place.”

“And if I were to ask around your associates back in Salem about you, would they also tell me about your constant habit of getting into bar fights with little old ladies?” Nina queried, tapping on her finger on her desk.

“N-No!” Theresa shook her head with a sheepish smile. “N-Not usually.”

Nina then pursed her lips, gazing right at Theresa.

“Okay, your history of drug addiction and alcohol is extremely concerning and therefore I’m going to have to subject you to random drug tests every so often. Also as long as your activities outside of work don’t adversely interfere with Crimson business, your ability to work here won’t be affected. Your uncanny talent for creating all kinds of fashion-wear for all sizes and ages would be a great asset to this company and I am willing to utilize it to the fullest extent possible. So come to work on time, give your 110% effort and make some amazing fashion lines and you will have a bright future here. Congratulations.”

Theresa let out an excited cheer and threw her arms around her in a hug.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you that you won’t regret it!”

“And Theresa?” Nina added.

“What?” Theresa frowned.

“Please do me a favor and do not antagonize my aunt anymore. I don’t want you to keep showing up with bruises and black eyes. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Theresa nodded and saluted.

Nina chuckled. “We’re going to get along just fine, kid.”

[lapinbunwrites]

Grimm!Pyrrha AU

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: None

Fandom: RWBY

Characters: Pyrrha Nikos, Salem, Tyrian Callows, Arthur Watts, Cinder Fall, Jaune Arc

Ao3 Link

Cinder walked around the Land of Darkness, waiting. It took a few minutes before someone was able to crawl their way out of the Pool of Grimm. The woman crawled out, coughing out dark liquid and breathing heavily. Cinder smiled while she was walking towards her. She put the tips of her fingers on her chin and lifted the woman's face up to meet her eyes.

"How does it feel Pyrrha?" Cinder smirked.

"It...It feels different." Pyrrha answered.

Cinder let her get on her feet. She turned around and started to walk away. "Salem wants to see you."

"Very well."

Pyrrha kept her distance from Cinder. She remembers that they were on other sides, but now, now they were on the same team. Pyrrha walked through the long hallway, walking into a room with a long table with many empty chairs. She stood at the edge of the table and looked far across from her. There sat a woman with white hair and black sclares and red irises. Salem gestured for her to sit down. Pyrrha did as instructed and sat a few seats away from her.

"Tell me, how do you feel?" Salem asked.

"I feel different. I feel the void pooling up into my center. I can feel nothing but hatred and anger." Pyrrha answered. "I'm not attuned to this."

Salem knew that feeling all to well. "In time, you will come to terms with the feeling." She said softly. "I have big plans for you." She then turned to look over to Cinder and Tyrian. "Train her."

Tyrian smirked and was going to enjoy fighting her. The three went back through the long corridor. They took a left before the door exiting the castle. The room was empty, aside from a few weapons. Pyrrha walked over to them and looked at them. She picked up the black and gold lance gun that was there. She turned it around and examined it. She pointed it one of them, signaling that she wanted to fight. She rushed at Cinder but she was able to dodge it easily. They fought and fought, but nonetheless Pyrrha was on the floor, defeated. Salem walked in. She wasn't happy with the results, but she wasn't shocked by it. Pyrrha got up off the floor and looked at her.

"You are weak." Salem reminded her.

Pyrrha didn't say anything.

"You will train endlessly until I see fit."

"Yes ma'am."

Salem and the other two left. She waited a few minutes after they left before leaving the room. She was shown her room. There was a new outfit for her to wear. She quickly changed into it. Pyrrha walked over the the mirror. Her eyes were now black sclares with red irises and she has black marks all around her eyes. She was now wearing a gold gorget that was connected to fabric that wasn't connected to overbust corset. The fabric was black and fitted a small portion of her back that went into sleeves. The sleeve on her left arm was longer that she tucked under a fingerless glove. She wore another fingerless glove on her right arm that went to mid part of her arm, leaving the rest to show skin. Each glove had circles on it to make an eye. Her left shoulder also had a gold plate on it. Pyrrha also wore gold dark red gauntlets with silver linings.

She wore a black overbust that was open in the middle of her torso and it had gold linings. It showed a large scar that ran a little past her chest. She adorned a long red cape that stretched to the ground. Pyrrha looked at her pinkinsh red skirt and lifted it up. It went to her knees She sighed and let it go. She tapped the ground with the top of her toes. It wasn't a bad pair of boots. They were silver high-heeled boots. She wore silver greaves that went down to her boots. She also wore thick black stockings.

All of this was so different from her old outfit. She couldn't lie and say she didn't like this outfit. Day in and day out she trained endlessly in this new outfit. She had to figure out to maneuver a fight with her cape. It was rather difficult to deal with. Weeks on end she fought and fought.

"Must get stro...stronger." Pyrrha muttered. "For...For them."

Tyrian put his foot on her back making her fall back to the ground.

"Forget about your friends. They mean nothing to you know." Salem said.

Tyrian moved and laughed deliriously. She got up and kept on training with him. Weeks and weeks she forgot about her friends. She became more and more mindless. It went to the point where her mind broke and she couldn't remember anyone or anything other than words.

"Now, who do you remember?" Salem asked.

"Remember who? Who are you?" Pyrrha replied.

"Good."

Weeks and weeks go by and she started to gain more strength and new memories. She didn't remember any of her 'friends.'

"Pyrrha, I have a mission for you." Salem said.

"Whatever the mission is, I will complete it fully and exceptionally." Pyrrha responded.

"Are you sure you want to send her out on a mission?" Arthur asked. "She may be strong but I don't think it's a great idea to send her out on a mission."

"It's a simple mission." Salem said. "I want you to take the Grimm creatures out towards Beacon Academy and distract them. Take however many you want."

"As you wish, my queen." Pyrrha said.

"Go immediately."

Pyrrha did as instructed of her. Before she left, she looked in the mirror. More and more black scarring grew upon her face. It was only natural. She left the castle and headed towards Beacon Academy with some decently strong Grimm. It took a few days before she arrived. It was nightfall and a big event was going on. Pyrrha instructed the Grimm to destroy anything. It sounded off the alarm for the school's defenses. She stayed by the school's main doors and waited. People were flooding out of those doors and met with some other Grimm. Only a select few decided to fight them and defeat them. Pyrrha ran towards one of them and started to fight them. They engaged in the fight, but they were wildly under-powered against her. It came to the point where she was about to kill them.

Jaune was able to shield them from the final blow. She stepped back and took one good long look at him. He was utterly shocked to see who it was. He was unable to move. He couldn't believe it was her. He thought she died when they went to check out on a bandit raid. She cracked a menacing smile.

"Pyrrha!" He yelled.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Why are you doing this?!"

"I am instructed to. It is my job to do this."

"Who put you up to this?!"

"My queen of course."

"Who?!"

"That's enough questions. Either fight and die or cower and live."

Pyrrha lifted up her weapon and pointed it at him. Without thinking, Jaune charged at her. He did his best to fend her off. It was a matter of time before he was worn out. More and more hunters and huntress in training came to his aid. Her time was up. She left without a scratch. Jaune lifted up his head and looked at her back.

"Pyrrha!" He yelled. "Pyrrha! Come back!"

She didn't even bat an eye. She made her way back to Salem's castle. It had been a few days since the attacks had happened and Salem was pleased with the results.

"Well done, Pyrrha." Salem said.

"You words praise me." She replied.

"This is what it means to succeed."

"You words are too much."

"Get some rest."

"Very well."

"What was the point of that mission?" Arthur asked after Pyrrha left the room.

"It was to gather information. She was to distract everyone while one of the other three gathered some information for me."

"I see."

"Everything will fall in place in due time."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The lovely @artist-assassin and I are in the same RWBY discord and she was showing everyone her lovely Grimm!Pyrrha AU and I instantly loved it. I loved it so much I wrote a little bit about the AU she was doing. I’m so happy that I got to do it. Thank you so much and I’m sorry I screwed up while trying to describe her outfit. I really like her AU! Please check her art out. It’s amazing!!

[foxofthedesert]

Arrow FanFic | Dinah x Laurel | A Christmas Miracle

Part 4 – The Miracle (AO3 Link)

A vicious chill threads through the alleyway outside the Carmine Kanigher Shelter, sending waste detritus of modern civilization skittering in every direction.  Mice and rats flee for cover as fat flakes of snow begin to fall.  Soon the entire area will be blanketed in a carpet of fluffy white powder.  A Christmas Miracle for Star City courtesy of a recently reunited father and daughter duo of certain...arctic talents who are in town for the first of what will become the annual Team Flarrowgirl – a universally reviled portmanteau courtesy of one Ralph Dibney – Christmas extravaganza.  

Pushing off the cinder block he’s occupied for the second time tonight over the past few minutes, Marv adopts a toothy grin.  He already worked his seasonal miracle, which if his best friend Nora’s spotty accounting of history unrelated to her dad can be trusted is taking place right about...now.  Nervously, he lifts the sleeve of his jacket to check the vitals monitor on the modular biometrically keyed device wrapped around his wrist, finding all readings back within ideal parameters whereas only hours before they were fluctuating wildly.  Just to be sure his efforts were indeed successful, he pinches himself in several places to ensure his central nervous system is still functioning correctly that he is still corporeal and has not disintegrated due to a seismic shift within the causal domino chain that will eventually result in his birth less than six years from his present location in spacetime.  

As a reward for a mission accomplished, he sifts through the menus on what Nora calls their Vibe-rators – bless the innocent, adorable, perpetual child that she is, Nora has yet to grasp why nicknaming the gadgets that in honor of their esteemed inventor, their beloved Uncle Cisco, was not quite the honor she thought it was – and quickly deactivates the artificial aging matrix produced by some seriously shway tech that, savvy as he is, even he doesn’t fully understand.  He also unilaterally decides to never adopt the pseudonym Marv ever again.  

Honestly, what was I thinking going with that? Quen shakes his head, chuckling ruefully as the answer dawns on him. There is a longstanding Christmas Eve tradition in his house of watching Christmas movies all evening until everyone is too tired to keep going, and this year they are breaking out amongst other titles both of Macaulay Culkin’s Home Alone films.  Double-dipping those gems before bed is, in his opinion, just about the perfect way to cap off a perfect Christmas Day with his family.  Which is why he has to get a move on or he’ll be late and his Moms will not be happy.  Nor will Aunt Sara and Aunt Ava, who are actually supposed to drop by this year instead of ducking his Mom’s invite with some lame explanation of a temporal anomaly that needed fixing like, pronto.  Come to think of it, Maya, his older sister by a year and a half, is coming back home from a work thing in National City for the annual Lance family Christmas and will almost certainly use his tardiness as another excuse to hit him.  And Quen can’t have that.  She has enough reasons as is without adding valid cause. Plus, his damn shoulder has been abused enough by his sibling’s iron fists, thank you very much!

Glancing back toward the street he’d watched a younger, more hardened version of his softer mother approach him from, the familiar tug of welcome memory pulls him under its sway. His Ma is still a knock-out according to all his friends, who often break out an ancient acronym he chooses to ignore so as to not require a bleaching of his brain, so the age difference was not that jarring.  But it was beyond weird to see her so restrained and world weary.  

Of his parents, his Ma is the positive one, the tactile huggy, kissy, slightly smothery mom who sings while she cooks, dances as she cleans, and who cried – on camera! – at his graduation...every last one of the four so far.  So many wonderful memories of her flash by that he can hardly sort through them all. Her singing him to sleep while he was little and really, really sick while his Mom cradled him close to her chest and rocked him in her favorite rocking chair.  The absurd, bonkers, overboard, birthday bashes she organized for both him and his sister every friggin’ year until they were old enough to insist she dial back the adorable insanity.  The way she would stand to the side giggling uncontrollably at his ultra-competitive Mom once he got old enough to regularly beat her at basketball or soccer or video games.  How a few stern words from her spoke volumes more than a profuse tirade from his Mom ever could amongst one of the many lectures he endured regarding the vital importance of taking responsibility for one’s own actions.  How she always smells like an amazing blend of vanilla and cinnamon and can with a single enveloping hug and a lingering forehead kiss banish every iota of hurt, confusion, pain, and fear plaguing her children, even when they are fully grown adults.  His Ma is a lionhearted woman who loves with every last ounce of her strength, and it was more than a little disconcerting to witness her holding that ferociousness ransom in the obviously fading hope that a rescuer might appear to set it free.  Thankfully, he is a devoted son who is willing to brave her wrath to secure her happiness, which he did by pushing her toward a certain irritatingly complicated blonde.  

The various images of his Ma, heartwarming as they are, mingle with one of his other mom as he watched her first set foot in the shelter.  Looking for all the world like she didn’t know what the hell she was doing there, all the while unwilling to surrender an inch to fear or doubt, she was yet so fragile he was afraid to even breath in her general direction lest she shatter into a million pieces.  He had to get to know her first before he risked ingratiating himself to the point she would grant him permission for one stilted hug.  

He’d like to say that it shocked him to see her so walled off, the woman who carried and nourished him inside her body for nine months and then endured unspeakable pain to deliver him safely into the world, but it didn’t.  His Mom has always had trouble letting people in, which in combination with her frightening dark side could make her a foreboding person to approach.  From his first memories, he can recall glimpsing fleeting specters of what he’d witnessed in earnest while on this escapade in the past: a simmering rage and innate cynicism fueled by pain that only his Ma can assuage.  Once or twice he was the unlucky target to bear the brunt of an outburst that scared him witless, and scared his Mom even more – so much so that she would sequester herself in the bedroom or the spare bathroom until she calmed down or his Ma intervened to soothe the offended beast back into her thick iron mental cage.  He never really understood why his Mom got that way sometimes until just last year, about five months after his eighteenth birthday, when he learned about Black Siren.  That wasn’t a happy time for him, or for his Mom.  He had always known she had a troubled past, but that...that shook the foundations of his essential being, made him doubt his own moral and ethic core, and worst of all caused him to doubt his Mom’s ability to love.  It took both his Ma and his Uncle Ollie teaming up to knock some sense into him for him to get his head out of his ass and to stop avoiding and start talking to his Mom again.  

And now?  Well, now he’s glad he knows about Black Siren, because if nothing else, this trip into the past has given him a reality check as to just how awful his Mom’s life was to have molded her into the hateful person she was before his Grandpa took a chance on her that his Ma later picked up and ran with.  Once, and fortuitously, she got to the shelter early enough to join in a group session with the therapist that visits the facility once per week.  He had to sit there silently and listen as she got roped into sharing, then grit his teeth through the empathetic agony of her divulging a lot more than she had originally intended.  The things she went through before she met his Ma...Quen shudders at the very thought.  The silver lining to that intolerable experience is that at least he has a reference to work with dealing with her occasional mood swings.  

Also, this foray has given him a new, unique perspective into how much his parents love each other.  To have overcome so much adversity just to be together is, quite frankly, astonishing.  Nora has told him so many times that his Moms’ love story rivals that of any epic parental romance within the group of kids belonging to the venerated members of the Justice League, but he never quite believed her.  How could he when they were competing with the likes of Superman and Lois Lane, the Green Arrow and his Overwatch, the Flash and Iris West, and Supergirl and her mysteriously broody governmental handler all the kids simply know as their favorite Aunt Alex.  But those precious hours surreptitiously watching them interact in the kitchen and during the post-dinner clean up operation afforded him a view that, while slightly biased, was able to recognize that same divine spark between them that he sensed whenever he was around his friends’ folks.  It was nice, so nice that his heart is still soaring high in the clouds above, to be given the immense privilege of bearing witness to the event that will begin an inevitable spiral into his – and his sister’s – future conception upon a recovered Kryptonian Genesis ship.  And come what may, be it unavoidable tragedy like Nora’s Uncle Wally getting imprisoned outside the timeline by Abra Kadabra, or some catastrophic event like Darkseid himself descending upon his Earth tomorrow, he won’t be forgetting this adventure any time soon.  It has ignited in him a flame of hope that cannot be quenched and solidified a belief that will endure until his death that love really can conquer all.

“Well, I guess you guys will see me in five years and twelve months on the dot” he says, his gaze turning instinctively to the apartment in which he knows his parents to be making the first baby steps toward a future they have both risked life and limb to protect multiple times.  “Good thing it’ll be sooner for me.  Just hope you guys don’t kill me when I tell you where I’ve been for the past month...”

And with the press of a button upon his Vibe-rator – he snickers at the thought of the name – Quentin Nicholas Lance disappears from view to join his best friend for their return trip to the future.  He is not seen again until many years later. Twenty-four years,  ten days, seven hours, and thirteen minutes to be precise, which is two minutes late and of no consequence to anyone but Maya, who uses that as an excuse to hit him.  

Damn that punchy brat.  

Quen rubs his sore arm, but the smile on his face remains until he is engulfed by two pairs of arms that officially ring in another Merry Christmas for the Lances.  To his unending delight, in addition to a new Quantum Tablet, his Moms pulled some really big strings to get him into the Air Force Academy.  He can’t wait to tell Nora!  And as he rushes to dial his bestie up on his Vibe-device, he gives them both the biggest hugs he can muster up.  He doesn’t see how their eyes catch over his shoulder, glowing with love for each other and pride for their child and happiness over his happiness, but then again he doesn’t really need to.  He sees it every single day.  Nor would it have registered even if he had caught it.  He is far too excited to think of little else than realizing his dream of becoming a pilot.

Merry Christmas to me! He thinks as he hears Nora’s voice chime through the tiny, nearly impervious subdermal implants designed by his Uncle Cisco that were wired into his ears after a childhood accident his Mom still hasn’t forgiven herself for rendered him deaf.

“Hey!  You’ll never guess what I got for Christmas!”

Nora does guess, the know-it-all brat, but his enthusiasm doesn’t diminish one iota. This is, after all, the best Christmas ever.  And not just because he got everything he wanted, but because he got to watch his parents take the final steps in their journey falling in love.  How many kids get to make that boast?  Not any he knows of besides Nora.  

Quen has an extended family that loves him, a bright future ahead of him, a sister that would fight the world for him, and Moms who love him – and each other – more than he could ever begin to describe.  And that makes him the luckiest kid alive.

THE END