#I could borrow my friend's tablet tho

[1-800-i-ship-it]

rose-coloured goggles: what’s one risk you took that ended up being completely worth it? | grin: what was the last thing that made you smile - really smile? | cookies: chocolate chip or blueberry?

thanks for the ask resiot! 

 im answering rose-coloured goggles last and out of order bc i rambled way too much xD

grin: does this count? also when i saw this ask and a) noted that u asked it almost immediately after i rb-ed and b) saw you asked this question i did grin too hehe :D 

cookies: that is such a hard question xD i think im going with chocolate chip bc i could eat that stuff for days on end haha its so goooood dammit i want a cookie now 

have a virtual cookie too resiot 🍪(lactose-free) 

rose-coloured goggles: uhh hmmm putting myself out there for a series of social events at a club at my uni that i wasnt sure if i should commit to but i was like well why not make some new friends and though zoom speed dating was  pretty daunting and my heart was pounding throughout the awkward social interactions, it was worth it cause i did get to meet some new people and get a  “big” plus a “sib”! it wasn’t rushing or anything close to that level of commitment (that stuff is scary ahaha) but it was like a big/little event just for the club, and even though i felt like i embarassed myself a lot (rip)  im glad i did it and stepped out of my comfort zone; also i realize i still dont really have a “completely worth it moment” yet so heres another story if u wanna hear more rambling:

idk if this counts as a risk, but i was about to go to a travel swim meet (6th grade i think?) and my friend literally just told me that she wasnt going after she promised me she would and she was the only friend i had who i knew was going so naturally i was like omg ahhhh like who am i going to hang out with?? how to social?? and then i didnt want to go anymore bc i was too scared but its not like i could back out bc my parents already paid for it plus i already signed up for events and my coach was expecting me to be there, so i went. 

the morning of, my mom was dropping me off at the bus but i didnt have anyone to sit with and i was too scared to ask anyone so my mom was like, hey that girl looks like she’s alone, want to ask her to sit with you? and lemme tell u my little heart was pounding so hard bc even tho im shy now i was a lot shyer before so i was like omg what if she says no what if she says no what if she judges me and! she said yes! and we hung out together at the meet sometimes (i was still too shy so uh i turned down her offers of me joining her and other ppl bc those were,,,fast swimmers and i was intimidated so i just played games on a tablet i was actually able to borrow for once on a trip bc my parents knew my friend ditched me and i didnt know anyone OTL)  

fast forward like 1 year later we’re in the same swim group (also we went to the same middle + high school), and we become super close friends! still are to this day, and i am super glad i met her <3

...haha thanks for reading through all that 😅also i hope u enjoyed the drunk squirrel if u clicked on the link hehe

[spacebrick3]

The Malformation AU: Part 10

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

This is the final chapter, but that’s not to say there’s not more lying ahead - not when the Malformation and @writerofwriting are around…

Chapter 10 (Talya):

Anechoi collapses to the floor. For just a moment, there is silence, nobody in the hangar daring to move. With a slow hiss, the last remnants of the magic crisscrossing the room, fade out, corrupted and Designer alike - and with the failure of the magic, the spell is broken.

Talya drops to the ground next to her, abandoning the now-useless tech. “Anechoi, Anechoi, please, come on, come on…” She doesn’t - she scared, because she doesn’t know what she’s just done. No one has researched the effects of suddenly and violently removing corrupted magic from somebody, much less doing so by stabbing a Designed blade through said person. If she’s hurt…If I was the one who hurt her…

She is hurt. That much is obvious. Eris - the entity - hadn’t cared for what she was dragging Anechoi through, and so burns of both magic and frost mottle her skin. Cuts from the dust storm line her face, and she can’t know what mental trauma being taken over by Eris will leave. But she’s alive, breathing shallowly and with a pulse. At least she’s alive. 

Did I do that, though? Would she be okay if I hadn’t…? She doesn’t know. That’s the worst part. She wants to blame it on Eris, but…can she? This hadn’t happened until she’d activated her Design, not before. Cause and effect said that she was the reason Anechoi was sprawled unconscious on the ground.

With a sigh, she buries her face in her hands. She’s drained. And even now, when the whole thing is supposed to be over, it feels like things have only managed to get worse. Anechoi’s hurt, and badly, and she doesn’t know what to do. She was just trying to help, to try and protect her or stop the thing inside her head from hurting her. Congratulations! I did! Because I was the one who hurt her! Great fucking job there, she tells herself acidly.

Syrus comes over, looking worried. “Is - is she going to be alright? You - she isn’t-“

A shrug is all she can muster. “Maybe? She’s alive, but…”

“Yeah, no…” He looks around anxiously. “Hey, this might sound strange, but do you - does she have any of the explosives left? I need to borrow one.”

Anechoi is still carrying most of them - evidently, most of the explosive work at Aquamarine was contributed by Eris. She undoes the clip on one and hands it to him. “What do you need them for?”

Tossing it between his hands - she winces, because that is absolutely not the way to handle sensitive mining explosives - he takes a second to answer. “I tried to get Kellstrand to keep them away, but even she’s not that powerful. In around…oh, maybe seven minutes, every news station on Mars is gonna be here.”

“That’s what you’re caring about now?” she asks incredulously, almost laughing. It’s the kind of the laugh that is just on the other side of crying, the same release of emotion. “The fucking news!? Your sister could be dying and all you care about is-“

“You two are criminals. I don’t know how wanted or whatever you are,” he says, picking up bits of shattered LIMES off the floor, “but certainly Anechoi is the one seen killing Aquamarine. My guess is you don’t want her to get packed off to jail forever. I mean, maybe they’ll put you in the same prison, but I doubt it. So we need a cover story.”

It’s hard for her to care. “Sure…?”

“Exactly. Now if I just…” He strides to the ripped-open door at the edge of the hangar, looking on on the field of strewn metal that used to be her Designer sigil. “Perfect. It’s the switch on here that arms it, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he flicks it, then throws the blinking globe, along with the scraps of LIMES, out towards the surface. Hitting the ground with a dull thunk, it bounces once before detonating and leaving a charred crater in the sand, lined with bits of metal.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Rogue android, course,” he answers.

She blinks. “What?”

Something blinks on his tablet, and he hurries back over. “Shit! They’re already here. Come on, get back into Diamond and I’ll get the flyer around when I have the chance.” Together, they manage to pick Anechoi up, but Talya can’t really carry her on her own. 

“Hey!” It’s the red-haired girl, who’s picking herself up from where Eris threw her. A trickle of blood runs down her forehead, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “I - ow - I can help. I think. Ow.” She winces, stumbling over and lifting Anechoi’s other arm over her shoulder. “She’s not still evil, is she? ‘Cause then we probably shouldn’t be this close.”

“She…shouldn’t be-“

“Oh.” She sounds almost disappointed. “I’m Mira, by the way. You going back to being a criminal or whatever?”

“What? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re not one of the register Designers like Kayode, are you, and there’s not that many. Everybody knows who they are, so if you’re not them you’ve gotta be one of the black marketeers? Which one, though - you Devre, or are you Lewis?”

There’s not much point in hiding it from her. They manage to limp into the corridor just off to the side, leaning against the wide doorframe. “Lewis.”

“Oh, I’ve heard good things. Also that you rip off your customers. Is that true?”

She manages a small smile. “Only the ones I don’t like.”

Syrus’ voice echoes throughout the hangar. “No, I didn’t get that much of a good look at it. Think it must have been some sort of rogue Designer AI, the way it was throwing magic around. What? Once we got some shots off on it, actual solid hits, we must have broken some sort of catch in it. Wandered off into the sand and exploded. You can look, but I don’t think you’ll find much, just some broken circuits and bits of metal. Wish I could help more.”

“No, course not,” he continues, in response to another question. “No, I’ve gotta thank all the people here at Diamond who helped, the dock engineers especially and the people who managed to keep everybody safe with the evacuation. Don’t thank me, really.”

“Come on,” Mira says, pulling them forwards. “We should keep going. I don’t know how much longer I can stay with you, ‘cause - ow-“ She misses the next step, barely staying upright- “that. I think I should see a doctor. You think I should see a doctor?”

Talya is barely paying attention. “What? Yeah, probably.”

The lights of Diamond are harsh, all brilliant white overhead. She doesn’t know where they’re going - probably to another of the hangars, for Syrus to get to them, but which one? They’re just angling towards the central area, because that will connect to all the points. “They’ll never be able to take the company from him now, you know,” Mira says.

“From Syrus?”

“It’s been news, you know. I read it, but nobody seems to care. The Almas-Daviau family doesn’t like him, and so they’re trying to get rid of him as the heir to the company. But now that he’s, you know, ‘saved’ Diamond, people are gonna care, so they can’t throw him out.” The door in front of them slides open, revealing the vast, circular hall that marks the innermost point of the city. “Hey. I’m - I’m gonna go to the doctor, now, cause - cause my head really hurts.”

This part of Diamond is modeled like the train stations of Earth, benches and tables scattered throughout. Mira lets Anechoi slide off her shoulders and onto the nearest bench, head lolling over the top. She turns to go, then stops. “We should…we…” She trails off, then shakes her head, grabbing a slip of paper from the nearest kiosk and scribbling something on it. “Here.” And then she’s gone, disappearing into the maze of halls that run through the city.

Of course. Talya rubs her eyes, almost unable to comprehend what she’s seeing. Of course this day would end with her getting a girl’s number. Of course. That was just the most fitting end to the whole scenario - it started with an impossible thing happening, and it was going to end with one too. “There is no way this could get stranger,” she tells Anechoi, sitting next to her.

The problem with saying things like that is that the universe has a tendency to prove them wrong. 

There’s a tap on her shoulder. She jumps to her feet, already flicking on the spare LIMES she took from Mira. A startled cry and the four people there are backing away, holding up their hands defensively. “We’re the good guys here! Don’t shoot us!” one of them shouts, and she lowers the weapon a fraction. 

“Okay, great, thanks for not shooting us,” the one in front says. She’s tall, with black hair that’s a little shorter than ‘long’, and seems to be the leader of the group. Behind her are two boys, one with hair dyed a stark white and the other even taller than her, plus the girl who’d shouted first, short with braided brown hair. “Are you okay?” she continues, glancing at Anechoi. “You look hurt, and your…friend?”

“Who are you?” Talya demands. “The city was evacuated! Nobody’s supposed to be here! So what are you doing here?”

“No - we’re here about a problem! We’re trying to help!” the same brown-haired girl says. “There’s a…entity of chaos that’s supposed to be here, gets inside people’s heads?” 

She hesitates. “You haven’t seen anything like that, have you?”

If you’re wondering who those four are, check no further than the Guardians project from which the Malformation is taken. Looks like they’re here to help, if they can...

Tag list (if you want to be added or removed, just let me know!):

@lady-redshield-writes, @no-url-ideas-tho, @ratracechronicler, @ken-kenwrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @cirianne, @lonelylibrary @maxbeewriting, @endlesshourglass, @thebloodstainedquill,  @anip-ocs, @dreamwishing, @incandescent-creativity, @fatal-blow, @danafaithwriting, @wri-tten

[freyjaiam]

Captain Canary prompt (if you’re still taking them): Sara dies at the Oculus, Leonard meets an alive version of her on Earth X

Seeing her again was a swift punch to the gut. Nothing his father had ever done to him could prepare him for the pain he felt when he saw her standing there next to his doppelganger and saving them all from the firing squad. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her hair was shorter and fell just beneath her chin. She was skinnier than his Sara and carried more visible scars. Like the slash across her face that looked like it hurt like a bitch and nearly took her left eye.

He was more surprised to see her than his carbon copy. 

Then, they were running. Away from the Natzi’s. Away from the stench of death that’d been in that camp. Thinking about those they left behind made him angry and feel helpless. Damn the Legends for making him soft… but he wanted to kill every last guard in that place and make them pay for what they’d done…

Ok. So not too soft.

When they got to the HQ there was just a whirlwind of questions between both sides. He just stayed in the back, arms crossed and leaning against a rusted table while taking in the scene. Everyone was making plans on how to get back and he was just studying the entire group. He tensed, slightly, when his eyes met hers and he looked away before pushing off the table.

“While I hate to interrupt getting to know what another and who likes who…” He chanced a look at Leo and Ray, eyebrow raised slightly before looking to Oliver. “We need to get back to our Earth… If the only way to do that is to get to that gateway… Then we go.”

“Agreed,” said Oliver and Barry. 

Only to be interrupted, again, by someone Alex apparently knew on her earth. So the tug of war started. While Alex did her best to get her plan approved he started his own plan. If push came to shove they could all just go there. All battle their way to the breach without the help of the others.

“You’re thinking awfully hard over there,” said Sara. No, not Sara. 

“I do my best thinking when everyone is yelling,” he said with a smirk. 

“So you really are from another Earth? I never believed Ray when he told us that.” Her head tilted. “What’s it like?”

“Well I would love to say there aren’t Natzi’s but that isn’t true... But the world still functions around good people. And people have freedoms. For the most part you are only put behind bars for a good reason.” His eyes drifted toward Leo and Ray. “Not because you loved the wrong person or have the wrong eye color.”

“That sounds like a great place.”

“It is…” Except you aren’t there. “For the most part.”

He wanted to talk more but then the plan was put into action. 

.

.

.

“I am sorry. About your friend.”

He looked up to Sara. She had wanted to come along. To battle against those on their world. They had won, in the end, and the bodies of those awful people lay dead in the streets. They were now back on the Waverider. Upon her request to join their team. She said she had nothing there on Earth-X. Her father was dead to her… Her sister was dead for protecting her against her father’s blade, the scar on her face from that moment a painful reminder that he was all-too-aware of. Her side had won and they were going to pick up the pieces of their world the best they could by liberating everyone there. But she hadn’t wanted to stay. She had hugged her friend Leo goodbye. Had kissed Ray on the cheek and told him to be careful. Of which he’d returned her sentiment. Then when the portal closed the team had welcomed her on. They didn’t know what it was like. Most of them hadn’t known Sara the way he had. Or even Mick and Ray. Both of whom felt guilt because she’d saved them by sacrificing herself. Hell, she’d saved Leonard, too. 

“The Professor will be missed. As will Jax.”

“Jax?” asked Sara. 

“I know the look of someone wanting to run.” Leonard sighed, reaching for a bottle of booze in the library he’d snuck in for some privacy. “Not sure when it will happen. But it will.”

“I can see why they made you their leader. You can read people.”

“There isn’t just one leader,” argued Leonard. “We all have a say here.”

“But they follow you.”

“Not blindly,” he said and she smirked, arms crossing over her chest. 

“But it was you who gave the final word about me staying.”

“True.”

“Though you said it with some hesitation,” she prompted, with a quirked brow.

“Did I?”

“You did,” she said, reaching for a glass to pour a drink of her own. Upon the first sip she sighed and closed her eyes. “Heaven.”

“No good booze where you’re from?”

“Not where I could easily get some,” she said, swirling her drink.

“Well, if you need a drink, you’re welcome to raid the stash in here. Everyone else does. Did the Kid show you your room?”

“He did. He said it belonged to the other Sara.”

“It did,” he said, looking away.

“Did you love her?”

He blinked, startled, before looking at Sara. “What?”

“I see it all over your face. When you look at me. Despite your attempts to hide it.” His face turned even colder and she nodded, as if he answered her question. Perhaps he had. “If you didn’t love her you at least cared for her. A lot.”

“She was an integral part of this team.” He sighed. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. Then we can get you caught up on what we’ve been working on before we were attacked at Allen’s wedding.”

“Ok, Leonard,” she said. The way she said his name had his hand clenching on the glass, threatening to break it. “I can take a hint. Goodnight.”

He didn’t look at her as she left. He just let that dark cloud he’d been fighting all this time settle over his shoulders and around his head. He was angry. Hurt. Confused. He was feeling so much and wasn’t sure how to handle it. When it came to be too much he threw his half-full glass, the shattering of it somewhat satisfying. 

“Mr. Snart... Are you okay?”

“Just peachy, Gideon.”

“Seeing one who has been gone for so long can be jarring. Are you-”

“Stop trying to be a therapist and find out where we need to go next, instead.”

“...very well, Mr. Snart. Tho I would suggest picking up that glass before someone gets hurt.”

Leonard sighed, and then did just that, unaware that Sara had turned back to apologize and had seen the spectacle. She frowned now, heading back to the borrowed room that still had some of the things that belonged to the Sara of this world. It was untouched. Almost like a tomb. She was surprised that they even let her in here. There were weapons of such great variety that it almost scared her. The Sara of this world did not mess around. There was also a bottle of booze nestled on a shelf with a deck of cards. She picked up the cards now, running her fingers over them absently while taking in the rest of the room. She wanted to get to know this Sara Lance. Needed to get to know her. So she sat at the desk, placed the cards on its surface, then lifted up the little tablet thing to do a little digging on the deceased, but far from forgotten, Legend. 

Hoping, that one day, she’d be able to live up to the person who shared her face.

END

[highgaarden]

ok so bc I'm all like DON'T GIVE UP THE SUPERPOWERS wrt Caro rn I thought why not request a canon-compliant superhero non-AU for Caro where somewhere down the line she decides to ~use her powers for good~ and do the vigilante thing, mask and everything (no stupid impractical costume tho). Extra points if she and Bonnie form a whole Witch/Vampire superhero team. Klaus can read abt it in the paper and figure out it's Caro+Bonnie and be amused and be into it. ♥♥♥

i tried my best. also, i have no clue what’s going on in the originals, but from scraps i get an a very helpful explanation from my friend anne, i sort of got the gist of it, tried to work more of the plot into this, and then decided to just… not. much apologies, please be kind to my v. confused self should you decide to leave a review.

12:51;

or: a superheroes origin story in five parts. 

Klaus/Caroline, Bonnie/Damon | wc. 3705 | ch. 1/5

read on: AO3 / ff.net

.

.

—

PartOne

InWhich Everybody’s Week Must Have Been Pretty Rough

—

 .

.

The weekend after Klaus escaped from his wall, he sat down in his studywith three bottles of liquor and double that amount of fresh blood, a steakcooked medium rare, and five years’ worth of newspapers to catch up with theworld.

Freya regarded him curiously. “You could have done away with the mess.We just ordered those new tablets.”

Rebekah was much ruder about the piles he left. She was probably stillmad she had had to miss four seasons of Supernaturalin order to save his skin.

Klaus didn’t answer them. He continued skimming the pages with aprevailing interest, rubbing ink and paper between his fingers. He soon foundthat he hadn’t missed much in his Marcel-imposed exile; that the mundanities oflife had persevered through the years.

His thoughts started to wonder when he was three-years deep into hiscatching up. Nothing caught his eye, and he was starting to feel the gratitudeof being able to sit in a comfortable armchair as opposed to being shackled toa floor dusted with rubble chip away.

Until he saw it.

He read the little opinion piece, then read it again, and a third timefor good measure.

And then he called Damon Salvatore.

—

At that point, not even Damon knew of their little hijinks despite havingmoved himself into their apartment. He used the pretence of “keeping an eye onthem” to make it past the front door. The living room became his sanctum santorum, and the couch he tookrefuge in constantly smelled like booze and Doritos.

Caroline was not happy with this arrangement, and made sure to be veryvocal about it every chance she got.

Sometimes it ranged from loud, to shrill, towake-your-neighbours-up-at-3am-because-Damon-you-fuck-you-left-your-underwear-in-my-laundry-basket piercing.

Tonight, Damon had the apartment to himself, and was glad for the peaceand quiet. Caroline was out on a date, and Bonnie was at the library borrowinga book. She was always at the library borrowing books, and he liked tellingpeople how bookish she was in a tone that was both patronizing and fond. It hadtaken some time, but he had finally perfected it.

In the middle of his Grey’sAnatomy rerun (“Denny? You chosea dying sack of meat over Alex? Really,Izzie?” he yelled at the tv), his phone rang.

It was Klaus. He hadn’t heard from the fucker in more than a decade, andwas immediately suspicious.

“City Morgue,” he answered cautiously.

“Just to be clear, you’re still second best,” came the familiar gout ofKlaus’s voice. “I only called you because Stefan’s number seems to not beworking, mate.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s not,” Damon said. “How do you still have mine?”

“If I wanted idle chit chat I would’ve resurrected Finn again.”

Damon muted the tv and got to his feet. “And yet here you are, makingidle chit chat.”

“I merely called to enquire about Caroline and Bonnie’s wellbeing.”

“They’re fine,” Damon said shortly.

“You best make sure they’re getting adequate rest for all thecrime-fighting they’re doing,” Klaus said, and killed the line.

Damon spat out his bourbon.

That’s how it all started, really.

—

Caroline was having a crummy night. The sole of her shoe had torn awayas she was chasing her assailant across the rooftops of Midtown, and it nowflapped with every step she took, and slowed her down considerably.

“I’m gonna get you, Raul!” she yelled, to make up for how she was losinghim, fast. “Your album sucked!”

Raul the Eurovision Vampire came to a screeching halt. He was screechingquite literally, because of all the insults Caroline had hurled at him in thepast week of stalking him, this one hurt the most.

“And your win last year?” Caroline continued as she hauled herself overa crumbling ledge. “Total pandering.”

Raul hissed and bared his fangs. “You know nothing of talent, sillygirl. If you did you wouldn’t be spending your nights in cowardice, hiding yourface with a gaudy mask. A poor man’s Catwoman.”

Caroline bristled, because it had taken her and Bonnie splurging on asewing course in Uptown to get their stitching just right.

“And you would’ve gotten more than a deal sponsoring mattresses afteryou won Eurovision,” she retorted, and Raul actually looked pained.

Actual, legit pain.

Caroline sighed. “Look, I’ll cut you a deal. See this stake here? Iwon’t stick it in your heart if you meet my conditions.”

Raul warily eyed the stake she was twirling between her fingers.Normally he would have told her to kiss his ass, but he was cornered, and hedidn’t fancy becoming a splat on the sidewalk.

That, and he was afraid of heights.

“And the conditions are?” he asked finally.

Caroline took a moment to rip the failing sole completely off her shoe.It came off with one clean pull, and when she looked up Raul was still there,which meant there was still hope for a redemption arc for him.

She gave him a winsome smile. “Do you have a pen?”

—

Bonnie slid in through her bedroom window, heady with glory. She hadgotten better at sneaking in and out at odd hours, but evidently not by much,since she managed to wake Damon up.

This was because he was in her bed when she threw herself on it.

“Damon, what the hell?”

Damon awoke with a snort. “A-ha! Proofof your foolhardy life choices!”

Bonnie rolled her eyes and unhooked her cape. She made a mental note to passCaroline twenty dollars. “Took you long enough to realize.”

“I am living with hoodwinks.”Damon pouted. “How could you not have let me in on this secret?”

“Damon, you helped me with laundry last week. You literally foldedpieces of my costume. It had my alter ego name on stitched across the front.”She swung her feet and walked to the paper partition by her dresser, where shewiggled out of her outfit safe from Damon’s prying eyes into a worn Whitmoresweater and blue shorts with lightning patterns on them.

“Are those anti-aging potions you’re brewing finally screwin’ with yourhead?” Damon was still on a roll. “You know how I had to find out? Klaus!”

“Klaus is alive?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes, and even in his state of barely living he ousted you and BlondeDistraction’s sly night crime-kicking.”

Bonnie started to respond, but then got sidetracked. “Blonde Distraction?”

“Uh – yeah.” He fiddled with his phone. “Blonde Distraction and FeistyFire.”

“That is fucking terrible,” Bonnie said mildly. “And not even ournames.”

“That’s what I call you in my blog, which I only update when I’m drunk. I’vebeen following you for years. Checkout the threads!” Damon waved his phone in her face.

“Are you drunk right now?” she asked.

“Yes,” Damon said sulkily, “but only half-stupid. You were never at thelibrary, were you?”

“Well, you were really sweet about it—”

“And you kept missing all those scrabble/pizza nights!” Damon howledinto his hands, betrayal gutting him like a fish.

“Damon,” Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “I’m tired. “The next time you spendthe night in my bed, I’m burning your brains out.”

“Reduced to being treated as one of your petty criminals,” Damonsniffed. “So be it. Our friendship always had an expiry date, huh?”

Damon slinked out of her room. Bonnie considered calling after him, butfigured she’d reason in the morning. For now, she had a huge bruise in her sideto nurse, and sleep was calling.

—

It started with scaring off new vampires from innocent clubgoers, andthen keeping the pasty creep-o’s who lived in the apartment adjacent to theirsin line when bodies started piling up in their shared dumpster.

Caroline hadn’t blown all her cash for an apartment in New York just forit to be crawling with the diseased, depravity and blood, so she took it uponherself to clean it up. An act of charity, if you will.

At night, she donned a mask and put on sensible boots. No stupidimpractical spandex for her, nor did she for a minute entertain midriff-baringleather, no matter how hot she might have looked.

Sipping from her thermos of warmed AB, she kneeled by stone gargoylesand prowled through the night. Afterwards she would either jump from rooftop torooftop, or practice her parkour, feeling invincible and (not gonna lie) reallyfucking cool.

At around 1am she got the read from Bonnie (in other words, Bonnietexted her in their coded-emoji) that their target for the night had arrived.

From five stories above she followed the sound of his footsteps throughthe alleyway, waiting to catch a heartbeat. When none came, she knew that hewas the one. His steps faltered when he heard a noise behind him. Caroline tookthe opportunity to jump down on him.

“Hello,” she smiled sweetly, when he was thrashing and spittingunderneath her. She was sitting on his back, which couldn’t be comfortable.

“Killing. Maiming. Money-laundering.” Bonnie came slowly from the mouthof the alleyway, her cape flowing behind her. “That last one’s kind of random,but the other shit we have on you—yikes.”

Caroline gathered his hair in her gloved hands and yanked hard. Thevampire cried out, enraged, but didn’t look away from her piercing gaze.

“You’ve got a locker full of civilians waiting like lambs forslaughter,” she said slowly, so he might not miss the threat in her voice.“Tell us where they are and you get to live.”

“I’m gonna have to call your bluff,” he rasped. “I’ve cut a pretty gooddeal, and ain’t no stinkin’ blonde and her twitchy sidekick are gonna stop me.”

Bonnie’s face darkened.

“Oooh,” Caroline whistled. “Bad choice of words there, bud. She’s not mysidekick. We’re partners. I kick ass, she takes names. Sometimes I take names,and she kicks ass. Though ‘kick’ might not be the right verb here…”

“I prefer not having to touch you scum,” Bonnie said, and from herfingers erupted flames.

Caroline smiled, eyes shining brightly in the fear that Bonnie hadincited into the now-still vampire.

“What are vampires most afraid of?” Caroline whispered into his fear.

“Werewolf venom.”

Caroline clicks her tongue. “No, the other thing.”

The vampire, cold sweat on his forehead, hesitated. ‘Uh—stakes?”

Caroline knuckled the base of his skull. “Fire, you moron. She’s waving it right in your face!”

It didn’t help that he passed out immediately.

Bonnie sighed and dropped her hands. The alley dimmed once again. “Canwe talk about this whole intimidation tactic thing?”

Caroline refused to look her in the eye.

—

It took about twenty minutes for him to come to, by which time Carolinehad gotten bored of sitting on his back and had decided to chain him to thedumpster instead.

After they heckled and tortured the information out of him, Carolinepulled out the usual contract – stating that no further harm would come to himfrom their hands if he got the hell out of the city and signed along the dottedline – when he started monologueing and posturing in a way that was really, really familiar.

Caroline pulled the pen away from his trembling grasp for it. Shesquinted in the dark alley, trying to make out his eyes.

“Caroline?” Bonnie asked, but Caroline barely heard.

The vampire was still monologueing, and Caroline felt a rising anger.She knew a compelled gaze anywhere.

“Damn it, Bon.”

Her fist swung out of her own accord, knocking the vampire out cold.There was a satisfying crack accompanying the slump of his neck, and Carolinedusted her hands off.

Bonnie eyed his body with distaste. “Harsh, Care. Don’t you usually waitfor them to sign the contract first?”

—

True to his word, Damon had indeed started a blog following the accountsof Blonde Distraction and Feisty Fire (not their actual names, but given thefact that he only ever blogged when he was drunk, he never bothered to learntheir real names) and their vigilante crime-fighting on his blog, WatchOutVillainz.com.

It was a smorgasbord of garish colour, Comic Sans, and badly-wordedheadings.

Klaus would never admit it, but he loved reading it.

He followed it with the same tenacity Caroline had for new episodes ofThe Bachelor, and one night even set up a username for himself to partake inthe lengthy discussions over who Blonde Distraction and Feisty Fire might be.

His username was entirely anonymous, and he enjoyed having a persona toparade as he took down trolls and ventured the tags, verbally maiming anyoneand everyone who dared speak ill of Blonde Distraction or Feisty Fire.

Granted, he didn’t care much for the witch, but thought that Carolinewould like it if he were to stand up for her too, so he did.

Damon showed up at his hotel room one night sullen-faced. “Get off mywebsite.”

“Make me,” Klaus said, typing progressively faster on his keyboard.

Damon failed to make him, and returned home, turning all his loyalfollowers on one hybrid_master_127. Unfortunately, Klaus seemed to have accrueda cluster of minions of his own in his short time of perusingWatchOutVillainz.com, and they threatened to hack into the mainframe of one ofhis life’s most precious work.

Damon, having limited knowledge of IT, highly doubted the existence of amainframe and whether or not it could be hacked.

In the end decided to play it safe, and Klaus stayed.

—

The way Caroline figured out it was Klaus who had been sending thugvamps her way was almost as fast as him discovering their true identities asthe Vigilantes of the Manhattan Bridge Overpass.

A week after Damon had almost thrashed his hotel room, Klaus opens thedoor to his magnificently ransacked quarters. Caroline was sitting on whatappeared to be the cracked granite of his bathtub, in his living room, with herlegs crossed. She was still in her mask and boots.

“What is wrong with you?” sheyelled. “Why can’t you pick up the phone and call like a normal person?”

“That would have ruined the fun,” Klaus replied. “Besides, would youhave answered?”

Caroline hesitated.

“I thought so.”

“You never answered any of mycalls.”

“I was chained up in a wall, love.”

Caroline considered this. “Hm.”

Klaus picked his way towards her, straightening lamps as he went. Minutegoosefeathers floated about his shoulders; the pillows had all been spearedonto the ceiling fan like kebabs. “It was all too easy to suss out it was you.”

Caroline refused to bite. Instead, she stayed silent, watching him comecloser and closer.

“You offered them redemption instead of gutting them alive, in documentform to boot.” Klaus sounded reproachful and he righted an upset table to hidehis exasperation. “Furthermore, Bonnie made no secret of her pyromanicabilities. She was always very artful with that certain power of hers.”

“You compelled yourself a massacre just to draw me out,” she hissed. “Ihappen to take my craft very seriously—”

“I know, love. I’m not laughing.” And indeed he wasn’t. In fact, he sortof admired the spirit in which she undertook her task. In all honesty, he believedthis to be a phase—it took him a while to process the fact that she’d chosen tospend her eternity (or at least, a significant early part of it) doing this.

“So why are you here?” Caroline asked.

“Because.” He paused. Why was hehere? Papa Tunde’s torment had left him withered and raw; Hayley and Freya hadgone to the ends of the earth to release him and when he’d woken up Hope waswell in her teen years. Despite the world staying to same, too much of what hecared about had changed. He needed—he needed to make sure, needed to see forhimself, how she was.

Perhaps she was right. A phone call would have worked better.

“I wanted to offer my services,” is what he decided on at last.

Caroline snorted so loud he thought it was a piece of his ceiling fallingon them.

—

“I know all the criminals in this city,” he insisted, dogging her downthe street. Caroline walked remarkably fast in the night. She had left her maskin the debris of his room, stating she had ‘plenty more’.

“I’d rather go to vampire jail,” she told him sedately.

“Ah, that rather poorly masked vampire rehab you set up,” he said,falling into step with her. “The Elizabeth-Bill Institute for the MorallyBankrupt. I was just short of amused as to what an easy target you madeyourself.”

“And yet the only person who managed to figure it all out was you,” shesaid.

“Well—Kol did, too. We were playing crime-bingo with your exploits.”Klaus grinned. “I was one money-launder away from a win, so I decided to pullthings to my favour.”

“I’ll wall you in myself,” she seethed.

“Oh, where will you possibly find the time in between all thiscrime-fighting?”

Caroline whipped around, fangs bared. “Leave me alone, Klaus.”

“How are the twins?” he asked gently.

“None of your business.”

“They should be around Hope’s age, shouldn’t they?”

“Stop talking about them.”

Caroline took a detour through an alleyway, and with more agility thanKlaus expected, climbed her way up the side of a building, all to get away fromhim.

Klaus weighed his options, then hefted himself up after her.

He found her sitting on a rooftop edge, the city pulsating beneath them.He sat down beside her and was surprised when she offered him a thermos ofblood. It was still warm.

“Where were you keeping that?” he asked admiringly, studying her outfit.

She sent him a look that could kill, and went back to countingheadlights. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said quietly, after a while.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. He cleared his throat and glanced ather. “When did it start?”

Caroline shuts her eyes. “A few years ago. Josie and Lizzie were growingup pretty fast. Alaric—he, well. Didn’t want me to have…” she gestured vaguely,“words were exchanged. I decided that if I could do my part to help in anyother way, I’d do it.”

“You’ll soon be bored with the futility of it, I imagine.”

“I’ve got an end goal in mind,” she said absently.

After a fashion he realized she had stopped counting headlights and wasfocused on a window in the building across the cobweb of streets. Two girls,remarkably alike, were pulling the curtains closed for the night.

“They’re nocturnal creatures,” he said softly. “If I could venture a guess,just like their mother.”

Caroline didn’t answer. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder. Hestiffened in surprise, but she didn’t comment on it, neither did she move away.“Next time, just call. You can’t base my reactions on the girl you knew tenyears ago.”

“Some things will always remain singular,” he said. He wasn’t speakingabout her. She hoped she saw it in the look he was giving her.

Caroline pulled away slowly. For a long time, she only looked at him.Klaus took a chance and reached for her hand, after which she tangled herfingers in his. They stayed that way for only a short moment, but the feelingof her palm, soft in his, lingered long after she’d slid her thermos back intoits hiding place on her body and left.

—

Damon had taken to fixing them breakfast in the wee hours of the morningwhen they finally returned. He reasoned that it was the least he could do, whatwith all the slander he keeps slinging their way on his website.

“To blindside the scrutinizing eyes of the public!” he insisted,flipping pancakes.

However, when Caroline returned home with an extra guest, his spatulafell onto the island with a smack.

“I refuse to feed him,” he told Bonnie. So offended was he that Carolinehad brought Klaus home that he refused to speak to Caroline too. Looking rightthrough them, he pointed out, “And I only made pancakes for three.”

Damon gestured angrily at the table, where three immaculate plates piledhigh with pancakes and cream had been set.

Klaus scowled. “But there’s four more, burning, by the way, on theskillet.” He tried not to sound too indignant.

“You kidding me? These are all for Bonnie!”

As the two immortal beings squabbled, Caroline speared a triangle ofpancake with her fork. Bonnie sipped her glass of orange juice. It felt strangefor the apartment to be so full, especially with the presence of Damon’s entireliquor cabinet dotting every corner.

Klaus finally wrestled himself a seat next to Caroline, but not beforeflicking off Damon’s shirt that had been slung over the back of the chair with dispassion.

“That’s it! I’m done! You can make breakfast yourselves from now on!” Damon yanked off his apron and was gonewith a huff.

“Does this happen a lot?” Klaus enquired, sniffing around a piece ofbacon.

“More times than you can imagine,” Bonnie said.

—

In the coming days, Klaus visited more often. His hotel room had beenproperly demolished, he took to reminding Caroline, who sighed and held out atowel for him to use her shower.

Bonnie delighted in the fact that she now has leverage against having abroody roommate/parasite, seeing as Caroline had one of her own now, too.

Damon continued to be miserable.

Klaus continued to goad them with his offer.

Caroline and Bonnie continued their crime-fighting.

“Let’s not make this routine,” Bonnie told Caroline as she garrotted avampire who had been hell-bent on chowing down on a family of four. “By nextweek we kick them out.”

“You got it, Bon,” Caroline said, waving the contract in the chokingvampire’s face. “We’re burning the couch. And can we finally talk about that cape of yours?”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, but nodded her agreement as the vampire veryreluctantly signed her name along the dotted line.

—

tbc

9B��`

[0n-y0ur-left]

@machine-dove sent me a message yelling about my tags on this post and said I had to write the ficlet.

I’m always a slut for prompts, so...

The thing was, Steve would swear in the years that followed, he really felt like him and Bucky had been dancing around this for months.  They’d been best friends for years, for as far back as either of them could remember, but after the weirdness that had been middle school there’d been a charge there, a spark of something humming beneath the surface of their interactions that both excited and scared the hell out of them.  

Or out of Steve, anyway.  He’d finally gotten the nerve to admit - to himself and his friends and loved ones - that he had a thing for both girls and guys at the start of eleventh grade, and while he didn’t have dates of either sex lining up to ask him out, it had at least cleared the air between him and Bucky.  And when Buck had broken up with his last girl of the month, four months ago (not that Steve was keeping track), and they’d started constantly hanging out together again, like old times… well, there was a nasty little voice in Steve’s head that couldn’t help reading more into it.

Especially when Bucky insisted sharing milk shakes when they went out after school, or popcorn when they went to the movies, or letting Steve borrow his Varsity jacket when he accidentally/on purpose forgot to bring his own coat to the Homecoming game they’d gone stag to.  There was definitely something there, something more than Steve had ever dreamed of hoping for - but while one mean side of him liked to point out the possibility of his best friend becoming something even more, the other, meaner side always shut him down: making sure to remind Steve as harshly as possible just how delusional he was being.

Because Bucky, even if he was single, had never once expressed an interest in being with other guys.  And even if he had, Buck was so far out of Steve’s league that it wasn’t funny.  He was smart - honor council this year, top of their class since he’d first transferred to Brooklyn in elementary school - he was on student council, starting pitcher for the varsity baseball team as  a sophomore, a key player in every drama production Washington High had put on since he’d started there.  People were tripping over the opportunity to hang out with Bucky Barnes, never mind the chance to date him.  And Steve… Steve was just Steve.  Scrawny asthmatic with a chip on his shoulder, painfully average student and GSA representative.  He was a decent artist when people took the time to actually look at his work, and Bucky swore up and down that he was funny as hell, but for the most part Steve knew that the only reason he wasn’t regularly getting shoved in lockers anymore was because he was most famous for being Bucky Barnes’ best friend.

Steve was an idiot for even imagining that he had a chance with someone as perfect as Bucky, but he wasn’t so stupid that he’d go and risk something as important as their friendship by asking him out.

Besides, they hung out so often that Steve felt he could pretty safely pretend they were dating.  In the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.  And if ninety-nine percent of his schmoopy fan art of late was based on an AU of Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne as dorky high school boyfriends that maybe bore a little bit of a resemblance to the dumb shit that the two of them did together?  Well… no one needed to know.

It got more hits to his blog, at least.

That said, there were still nights when Steve’s stupid brain couldn’t help but wish.  So when Bucky had sent his text on the Sunday before the MLK Holiday, when Steve was already pouting about the fact that he couldn’t join him in their volunteer plans because his stupid head had decided to come down with a stupid cold, well… Steve couldn’t help feeling a little reckless.

Text from Bucky Received 09:32 PM

What do you wear to bed?

Steve had been staring at it for a solid thirty seconds, blinking and trying to convince himself that it really wasn’t the Nyquil that he’d taken earlier - that Bucky really was asking him that question.

He had to know how suggestive it was.  Steve had watched Bucky charm girls since they were in elementary school… he knew how to flirt, he knew how people took his words.  Which meant - he had to be flirting with Steve.  It wasn’t completely out of the blue, not really, but it still left Steve such a squirmy mess that he actually had to abandon his tablet on his desk and fall back onto his mattress to read it again.

Bucky had stayed over enough times over the years to know damned well that Steve usually just slept in whatever outsized summer camp t-shirt was cleanest in his drawer and either a pair of old boxers or ratty pajama pants; but he couldn’t very well say that.  Not in response to his first sext.

He bit the hell out of his lip, dismissing the thought as fast as he could, before  finally forcing his fingers to type out an answer.  

Text to Bucky Sent 9:34 PM

depends on the weather

if its summer just a black jock or smth ;)

He held his breath as the ellipses bubble appeared on Bucky’s side of the screen, rereading his response obsessively.  Best case scenario: Bucky really was flirting with him, and they could get it out of their systems the easy way… break the ice on a text screen, then make out like fiends in person the next time they hung out together.  Worst case scenario: Bucky would ask him what the fuck he was talking about and Steve would laugh it off as a joke.

He was golden.

He was really, really fucking hoping for the former - although as Bucky continued typing he couldn’t help but start panicking.

Text from Bucky Received 9:35 PM

k but what about like in the winter

do u wear warm pajamas?

What the fuck?

Steve actually started to type as much, but the rest of Bucky’s responses came in a flurry of messages.

Text from Bucky Received 9:35 PM

my mom is making me throw out my old superman pajamas and i kno theyre about ur size

i swear theyre not gross or anything

ill wash them before

if u want them

i just know u like superman and its dumb to throw them away

Steve finished reading the texts, dropped the phone onto his comforter, and covered his face in his hands because - oh God.  It was so painfully cute, so painfully Buck that he couldn’t help giggling, and immediately picked the phone back up to read the exchange again.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he took a screenshot and hit the share icon for his Tumblr account.  After a second’s debate he added the hashtag #Ur fav would NEVEr #This boy and posted it.

He rolled onto his side, staring at the screenshot and grinning like a crazy person… and then succumbed to the cold meds, finally.

Steve woke up coughing a short while later, blinking in confusion before realizing that he’d definitely fell asleep on top of his covers, with his damned contacts still in.  He reluctantly moved to the bathroom to pop them out (his eyes were already a sticky, awful mess, so leaving them in absolutely wasn’t worth how he’d feel in the morning), then stumbled back to his bed, groaning when he noticed the time on his alarm clock.

He face-planted back into his pillow, only to bash his nose against the cold, hard surface of his phone.  With a curse he moved the damned thing to his nightstand - then remembered how he’d fell asleep in the first place.  He knocked three books on the floor feeling for his glasses on the nightstand, but finally got them on his nose and pulled his phone screen close to his face, blinking in surprise when he saw his Tumblr app notifications.

With a little red bubble that read 1,000+ next to it.

Steve opened the app with shaking fingers, only to laugh out loud when he realized which post it was that had blown up.  He hadn’t imagined the interchange with Bucky, and apparently the entire damned internet was every bit as charmed as he’d felt.  A quick scroll through his inbox confirmed that at least fifty people thought they should get married.

Which… was probably jumping the gun, but was something that Steve couldn’t help preening over, just a little.

Text to Bucky sent 06:03 AM

I PUT THIS CONVO ON THE INTERNET

If nothing else, Buck would get a good laugh out of it in the morning, Steve figured with a giggle.

A giggle that stopped as soon as the blue check mark appeared next to Bucky’s name.

Text from Bucky received 06:03 AM

hmmmmm?

Steve - had definitely not expected Buck to be up yet, but he could hardly abandon the conversation now.

Text to Bucky sent 06:04 AM

I put this on tumblr.  U should see the responses!

It vaguely occurred to Steve that he probably should have asked for permission ahead of time, but it was Bucky.  And it wasn’t as if he’d said anything terrible - if anything, Steve came out looking like the pervy idiot.

Besides, none of their classmates would guess that this random Bucky on the internet was their Bucky: no one outside of their immediate friend group knew that Buck was such a dork, or would believe it in the first place.

Text from Bucky received 06:04 AM

is that ur art site?

Steve hid his grin behind his hand.  His art site.  Please…

Text to Bucky sent 06:04 AM

yeah sort of.  i post on it sometimes

it got huge responses!

more than any drawings :P

PS how old r these pjs?  if they r gonna fit me? XD

Text from Bucky received 06:04 AM

shit

Steve’s heart sank in his chest as the ellipse button appeared immediately under Bucky’s response.  He was in the middle of stumbling out of bed to retrieve his laptop to delete the damned thing when his phone chimed again.

Text from Bucky received 06:05 AM

i lied to millions of ppl on the internet

my mom isnt making me throw my pajamas out

i saw them at target

Steve was about to laugh and make a snarky reply about the ‘millions’ part (he had a grand total of five hundred twenty-three people following his crappy fan art blog, but Bucky always was one for dramatics) but the rest of Bucky’s rant stopped him cold.

Text from Bucky received 06:05 AM

they were on sale tho

i know we already did xmas presents

they just made me think of u

Steve’s smile was so wide his face ached.  The ellipses kept coming.

Text from Bucky received 06:06 AM

no they werent

they werent on sale

thats another lie

sorry tumbler

can they see this now???

Steve was dying.  Bucky was going to actually kill him with adorableness, and he didn’t even seem to realize it.  After smothering a squeal in his pillow Steve got his shit together and started typing back.

Text to Bucky sent 06:06AM

nope! no worries ;)

He gnawed viciously on his bottom lip as he typed up his follow up, started to delete it twice, then finally manned up and hit send.  

Steve was a lot of things, but he sure as hell hoped he wouldn’t ever be called a coward.

Text to Bucky sent 06:07 AM

i got about 50 message overnight tho

they all say i’ve gotta marry you XD

The emoticon, Steve decided when he saw the blue checkmark beneath it, was a nice touch.  If Buck freaked out now, he could just laugh the whole thing off as a joke.

(he wasn’t laughing while the ellipse bubble flashed next to Bucky’s name ten billion times in the next two minutes)

Text from Bucky sent 06:08 AM

we should prob start with coffee first

if ur feeling better i can pick u up tuesday?

is seven okay?

Steve stared at his phone for a solid thirty seconds, gaping in shock, before pressing the call button next to Bucky’s name with shaking fingers.  Seven was perfect, but he could hardly trust himself to type as much.