#I think the pins are brand new since I could only find them at the Tomorrowland pin traders

[francixoxoxo]

Old Chevy 𓃒

ranch hand!Billy the Kid x farmers daughter!reader

Billy teaches you how to drive stick in his truck on the way to the farmers market.

part 2 of Ice Cold Lemonade

note; this au is less modern modern and more like 100 years after the series— you can picture whatever you like, but I see it as the mid to late 90’s!

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“Busted ass, stupid ass, stinkin’ ass..” You sound like a fourteen year old while you kick rocks (literally) away from your worn leather boots.

Your car wasn’t starting. thank god it was at home and not on the road, but a fucked car didn’t suit your schedule all that great. It was another sweltering day, New Mexican sun beating down on your exposed shoulders while you made your way down the gravel lane that led from the farmhouse to the road.

What bullshit, you thought, looking up from your shadow and scanning the property through squinting eyes for your father. Your car could’ve used a new alternator last month. Maybe your dad spoiled you, but you’d argue that a working car wasn’t hardly a prissy want.

Especially when he was the one encouraging you to head down to the farmers market and get him some apple preserves. So much for that, you get ready to disappoint as you step up behind your father. His favorite flannels covering his broad back, that old hat still on his silvering hair, same as it’s been since 87’.

The hires are spread out a bit, but all within his view in the cattle pen. There’s only a handful, going about branding the batch of calves you recall bottle-feeding seven months ago. You were pretty sure the photograph, taken on your father’s Kodak, was still pinned on your cork board.

One was handling the cattle, guiding them out of the smaller pen and into the great wide field to graze again, one wielded the hot iron and the others, the burlier two, kept the animal itself still and calm as was possible. The last man was leaning against the fence beside your father, shoulder to shoulder with him, and you could smell the Marlboro lites from yards away.

Maybe you weren’t paying attention, or you were fuming so hard the steam coming out of your ears clouded out his recognizable build. But one second you’re tapping on your father’s back and the next, the ranch hand leaning on the fence looks over his shoulder just the same as your father does.

Billy, again. Flashing that easy smile, again.

You’d feel a little warm in the cheeks even if the sun wasn’t kissing up on your face. You’d seen him around once or twice since that day you poured him lemonade, but from a distance that wobbled in the heat. Jesus, did he look better up close. He needs a shave, and that navy hat shades his eyes as they dart no lower than your shoulders— maybe he’s scared, seeing as your lug of a father is right next to him.

“S’posed to be quitting, daddy.” You remind your father, reaching over and plucking the lit cigarette from twixt his fingers. You hear a chuckle from Billy, but when you cast the cigarette in his fingers a look, he drops his hand from the wooden fence.

Your father sighs heavily, shakes his head at you like he’s been doing since you were old enough to speak snark. “Old dogs n’ new tricks, lil’ thing.”

“Speakin’ of old dogs..” You begin, putting on the sugariest smile you can manage while squinting the sun from your eyes. It comes out more of a scowl. “Nancy’s busted.”

“Busted?” Your father sighs again. He sounds like an old, lazy hound when he sighs all weighty like that, you think.

Billy cuts in, brows lifted while his lips part over his teeth. “Nancy?”

“My car,” you explain, not so sweetly, finally daring to look right at him. He’s got a look on his face, not bewildered but surely a little confused, the guy’s never seen you frustrated. Well, he oughta get used to it. He hums, and you find yourself wondering if he’s got a girl name for his own car. You peel your eyes off the man. “It’s gotta be the battery, daddy. Can I take yours?”

Your father shakes his head, his hand scratching at his bearded chin while he grumbles, “Naw, naw. She’s been actin’ up too. Don’t wantchu breakin’ down on the highway, bug.” He shrugs his shoulders at your huff, theres an almost regretful frown on his sun-dried face.

“Well, where y’need t’be?” Billy interjects again. He shifts on his feet and, looking down, your eye catches his Marlboro in the dry grass just under his boot. Jesus, you hope the way you threw his belt a look on the way up wasn’t too obvious.

“Farmers market,” you hum, crossing your arm across your ribs and pulling your lips taut. The other hand shades your eyes. Billy turns down his lips in a way to say why not? “I can bring ya.”

There’s an eagerness in his voice that calls a puppy dog to mind. Your guardian angel must be looking down on you right now, ‘cause you’ve never felt so lucky. You turn to your father expectantly, apparently so does he, because Billy continues to him, “I got my Chevy just in the lot. It ain’t no thing, if s’okay with you, sir.”

Your father presses his lips, lifting his shoulders. “Ion see why not.”

“Perfect!” You can’t help feeling giddy, throwing your arms ‘round your father to say thank you for lending you a car. And, well, you supposed a thank you for lending you Billy.

“Don’t you get in trouble none,” your father tells you with a sturdy hand on your back, his eyebrows raised and a faint grin playing at his lips. Billy’s already stepping behind you, in the direction of the lot. Over your shoulder, in a less affectionate tone, your father calls, “Drive safe. Look out f’her.” More of a warning than a request.

Billy nods, that meltingly charming grin splitting his face as he tilts his hat to cast a better shadow over his eyes. “Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout us, sir.”

Sir. Mister. you’d have to poke at him later for that. It was laughable how a man wrapped ‘round your finger scared such manners into Billy. Or, you wonder, maybe that’s just him, with or without his boss over his shoulder.

“Bye, daddy.” You squeeze your father’s arm before following Billy out to the workers’ gravel lot across the property.

Second you’re next to him, he shoots you a boyish grin furthest from that sweet politeness he had around your father.

The pair on this guy!

You technically started it.

“Is that a clutch? Billy, do you drive manual?”

Billy eyes you as his left boot punches said clutch, his hand shifting the stick up a gear as that stare regretfully changes gears too. He watches the tachometer and once he’s worked out whatever stupid math an ancient car as this needs, he turns his attention back to the girl in his passenger seat.

“What’s wrong with it?” Billy chuckles, his brows raising at you. You lean forward to fiddle with the radio, but he shakes his head. “Busted. Got some CDs in the glove.”

“Oh, you’re ancient!” You gasp, popping the little lever on the glovebox and rifling through the CD cases. Tom Petty. Bruce Springsteen. Steely Dan.

Sublime? You pop that last one into the open cd slot, below the broken radio. Atleast you knew Billy hadn’t been completely under a rock for the past ten years. “You makin’ fun of me, woman?” There’s such a laugh in his voice that you couldn’t help the smile creeping up on yourself.

“Well, who drives stick anymore?”

“Cool guys.” Billy huffs, mocking offense. You pull your feet up on the seat, eyes running up your chauffeur. His sleeves were rolled, a smart looking navy that maybe wasn’t so genius for New Mexican summer. Naturally your eyes were drawn to the vein running from the back of his hand up to his forearm, his toned bicep hanging lazy while he rested one hand on the top of the wheel. There’s a slight sheen on his forehead and neck, dark curls are sticking to his nape and suddenly you aren’t cursing the heat so bad. Billy was so handsome it physically hurt to look at the damn guy. “Me.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re a cool guy.” You smile to yourself, turning the radio up so that you can hear Santeria come on the speakers. Billy scoffs.

“You don’t know how?”

“Who does?”

Billy looks appalled at this. Suddenly he’s pushing that ruddy clutch again and shifting to a lower, lower gear until you come to a stop on the shoulder. Not like there was anybody else on the road right about now anyway. “What’re you doing?” You draw your brows as Billy pops his door (which, you noticed still had crank-roll-up windows) and walks around the hood of the car. When he makes it to your door he leans through the open window, his forearms on where the glass comes up, with a devilish smile that makes you feel like a fool.

“We’re gonna get you straight.” You had rolled— cranked, more like, on this ancient ass car— the window up on him, just enough to get him laughing and opening your door.

So, you figure it was your own fault for bringing it up. Billy’s scooted over on the bench, leaning close with a strong hand on the center console and watching your boots to make sure you’re hitting the clutch at the right times. He’s tapping on the faded numbers along the shift. “You wanna push the clutch when you’re switchin’, and pull this to a higher gear. See? We wanna be on ‘bout a 5, on this road, but I don’t want you crashin’ my baby. So you’re gonna bring it up t’four.”

“Four’s.. what?” You furrow your brows as you press on the gas. You’re slowly rolling up to ten mph on the speedometer when Billy’s grunting, “switch gears.”

“I don’t get it,” you huff, already pissed off with this hunk of metal. Billy shakes his head, grasps your wrist around the shift and pulls it back. You hear some kind of shift and click.

While you’re reeling from the warm, rough callouses of Billy’s palm over yours, he’s tapping a little gauge beside the speedometer on the dash. “This’s the—“

“Tachometer, I know that.” Billy raises his brows at you while you maintain 15 mph so you don’t need to switch gears again. You can’t help but smile at the you wanna learn or are you gonna keep being snarky? look, one that you’ve been collecting since you were a little girl. Like a damn gymnast collects medals.

“Okay, well. When it rolls up to three, you gotta switch again.” Billy raps on the glass again and you nod, listening to Bradley Nowell rasp about how “daddy’s got a new 45.!” on the radio. Your eyes dart between the empty road ahead of you, the mirror of the same desertion behind you, and the agonizingly handsome man right next to you.

You shake your head, eying the little white 3 on the gear shift. “So much to be keepin’ track of.” You mumble. Billy hums in agreement. Considering how to word your next jab, you watch the speedometer roll on up to 22, 23, 24 mph, hit the clutch and push on the gear shift again. Too much fucking work, you wanna complain, but it’s not actually the worst thing. In fact, you might just be enjoying yourself, with Billy leaning all close to you, reminding you when to switch gears, his cologne mixed with the pine-tree air freshener hanging off the mirror making your head swirl.

But you can’t resist making fun of him, just a little. “so y’know, dying on this hill don’t make you cool. Just makes you hardheaded!”

“Baby, I can be both.” Billy drawls, you can’t help a giggle bubbling from your lips. What were you, a teenage girl? Well, you weren’t that far from it, you supposed. Nineteen was still teenage. Besides— baby? When you glance over at Billy he’s grinning at you so broadly you feel like you’re looking straight into the sun. The hot, bold, charming sun. You’re realizing how close he’s leaning now, his chest less than half a ruler away from your shoulder.

“Switch,” Billy cuts into the moment, discards his hat and throwing it up on the dash. Which, speaking of it, had a little plastic Jesus perched by the window. You never took him for religious. You do as he says without checking either of the mouthful-ometers. 4th gear.

You tilt your chin to the little figurine on his dashboard while you speed up, going a solid 45. “Plastic Jesus?”

Billy looks over at it like he almost forgot it was there. “Oh, yeah. Was my ma’s.” That explained it.

“Kinda like the song.”

“Exactly like the song.” Billy chuckles, sitting back in his seat and pushing a hand through his hair to fix how his hat matted it down. You think that if you look over at him, you’ll probably crash this truck.

There’s a silence, and you sit in it comfortably, but every inch of you wants nothing else but to know everything about him. You wanna ask his favorite color. You wanna know his favorite food, set it on the windowsill and wait until he saunters up and asks for a slice, just so you can smile and flirt like you didn’t make it for him. Maybe it’s just a little crush, but you’ve never had this feeling— like you can’t get enough, like you gotta get more. You wanna know him. And you haven’t wanted anybody to know you so much as right now.

“You’re doing great, firecracker.” The pet name brings a stupid big grin to your lips. You turn your cheek to look at him— finding that he’s already looking at you. “So, you wanna take back all that talk ‘bout me and my manual?”

You hum, pretend to mull it over while you slowly release the gas, pushing the clutch and going down a gear to make a turn. You eye him, and he nods simply to tell you that you’re doing fine. “Not really.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” Billy laughs, resting his elbow out the window and rubbing his stubbled jaw with his free hand. “Bullheaded woman.”

“Don’t you forget it,” you giggle, letting Billy remind you to shift down another gear to roll into the gravel lot of the farmers market.

You make him carry all your paper bags, wander around the market with you while you judge the best tomatoes and juiciest corn. Your father had planted apple trees along the house, so you ignored the fruit stall. Fondly, you remember sitting up in the boughs of the tree, munching on the closest apple and throwing the core far as you could, convincing yourself you were gonna spread the orchard. You had just learned about Johnny Appleseed in school, and your father listened to you retell the story over dinner patiently as a man could be.

For a moment, you caught yourself watching Billy collect the stalks of leeks you sent him for, his brow furrowed in concentration as he judged the bunch. You wondered if he’d be the type of man to listen patiently to your rambling. If he’d be the type of man to climb that old apple tree with you, and indulge your silly tradition of tossing the apple cores. You shake it off, and find the apple preserves your father loves, Michigan jam for yourself.

When you meet back up with Billy, he wordlessly lifts the paper bag you were cradling. He shoots you that charming grin over the three bags he’s carrying now. the ass really was a gentleman. “All done?” You hum in agreement, watching him shift the bags to one arm and fish his keys out of his jean pocket. He hands them to you.

“Jesus, Billy.” You turn the keys over in your fingers. Not battery powered— good old fashioned, stick-it-in-the-lock keys.

“What?”

Billy steps to the back of the Chevrolet to lay the groceries in the flatbed trunk, among the spare tire, toolbox, and navy blue Carhartt jacket. You click the keys into the slot on the drivers door, shaking your head and laughing lightly. “The key lock? How olds this car?”

“Why don’t you mind your business n’ get in the passengers seat, firecracker,” Billy huffs, though there’s no bite in his voice— in fact, you see a boyish grin on his face in the rear view mirror while you shuffle across the bench to the passenger side.

When you get back on the road, you lay your feet up on the dash, the heel of your boot beside the plastic Jesus by the windshield. Billy drives a hell of a lot smoother than you had, like he knows this car better than his hand. He put in a different CD earlier, Neil Young warbles Harvest Moon while you cruise down the open road.

For a moment, you can picture this being your life. Driving home from the farmers market with Billy, his old music on the speakers quiet enough that you can still banter about nothing real serious, his attention split between the tachometer, clutch, road and you.

It’s easy to forget that your father would kill him and then you. Maybe that’s what made it so exciting, riding in his passenger seat. His fingers flex over the top of the wheel, his smile easy and utterly earnest when you tell him, “I like this truck. I think I’ll need a ride more often.”

“Anytime, lil’ miss. m’ at your service.”

[sketchinfun]

Batuu at night

Some night time pics of Batuu from the other day, since I rarely get to see Galaxy’s Edge in the evening. I love how this part of the park is lit, and it has an entirely different vibe vs during the day. Also I found a super cool pin that is a lightsaber that actually lights up! I wore it around Batuu during the evening and the light is surprisingly bright.

[kudossi]

and a yellow moon glowed bright

Years later, when Ivypool herself is only a memory and before she’s completely lost to time, she’ll look over ThunderClan, wherever they might be, and still look for her daughter in every face.

The stories have it wrong already, and the truth will be dust before long. Bristlefrost isn’t alive in their memories. She’s twice-dead, drowned in black, choking water, a light snuffed out too soon. Bristlefrost was the prodigy — the daughter cats dreamed of, the first to find her voice and her paws, the leader of her siblings, the apprentice who did not graduate even earlier than she did because there was no prey in the forest to be found, not because of any failings on her part.

Cats starved, that long winter. Not Bristlefrost. Never her daughter, her clever, resourceful last-born. And she had once occupied this spot, designated for deputies, even though she’d never had an apprentice of her own. Would never have an apprentice of her own, now, even though she deserved it more than anything. Even though she’d deserved to stay deputy, but had given the role over with a smile, no hint of dark ambition in her gaze.

Ivypool steps into the deputy position under a brand-new leader with a whisper instead of a bang, the pounding of blood in her ears the only reminder that cats had been here before — that cats had died here before, and that Bramblestar’s first deputy becoming leader was a fluke, an odd quirk of fate. It hasn’t been done in living memory, nor long before that. Leaders do not usually step down, and when they do, they rarely stay with their Clan, or even within reach of their territory. First deputies do not often become leaders in turn. Usually this event is a bittersweet one, with a body or bodies laid out in the clearing, their eyes closed swiftly to avoid the rigor of after-death, but this is almost-peaceful, with only the murmurs of those who could not easily accept change as detractors.

Ivypool will die long before Squirrelstar. She’s—surprisingly okay with this, but she thinks she’s been at peace with her death since before Hollyleaf had stepped between her and a deathblow from one of the only friends she’d ever had.

(“You were my friend!” Ivypool screams in her worst nightmares, Hollyleaf’s blood dripping from her pelt.

“I was never anyone’s friend,” Hawkfrost murmurs in return, something aching-sad in his voice, Hollyleaf’s lifeless form pinned under his claws. “I was born to what I am. We’re the same, you and I.” He pushes the black cat away from his paws with disgust — not for the body, but for Ivypool herself. Blood bubbles from the horrible wound at the corpse’s throat. “She should have been the one,” he says sometimes, in the ones that shatter her already pieced-together heart. “She died in your place.”

“I know,” Ivypool says, and she does know — she knows it more than anyone else alive.)

“It should have been Hollyleaf,” she says to Squirrelstar, quietly, at the end of one of their dusk meetings.

Sorrow flashes in Squirrelstar’s gaze, but it’s buried as soon as it comes. “It’s you,” she says. “It has always been you.”

It is not a truth — not in the way Ivypool remembers them from her childhood — but it is not a lie, either. Hollyleaf chose her, in the way dying deputies might choose their successor. She is always an echo of another cat burned by starlight. It is a comfort, sometimes. In others, she begs the spirit who’d saved her life for mercy, for clemency, until she runs out of breath.

(“I’ll find her,” whispers a voice Ivypool had almost forgotten, in dreams she forgets as soon as she wakes. “I’ll walk the skies ceaselessly, I promise you.”

But there is no bringing Bristlefrost back, and a part of Ivypool has died with her.)

When Ivypool wakes, her Clanmates breathe around her, steadying her rabbit-quick heart. Fernsong’s tail wraps snugly around her flank, Thriftear curled only one nest behind, and she does not lose her breath at the way Flipclaw’s dark tabby stripes curl over his spine. She hasn’t in a long time, she knows, but the impulse is there, sharp as ice underneath her ribs.

(She’d once thought his brown tabby pelt a punishment from the stars. She loves her son, would give her life for him, but the feeling that StarClan may have meted some punishment down in the shade of his pelt remains long after he’s received his warrior name.

She’d begged Bramblestar to give him a suffix that was as unassumingly kind and silly as her son always was. Instead he’d given him -claw, as if to remind her of her failings. She is not sorry to see his form slip into the elders’ den, bereft of the nine lives he’d once so jealously hoarded.)

[snowy-vee]

ALL MINE (4)

CHECK MY PINNED POST!

DAILY CLICK!!!!

DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE JUST BECAUSE THE STRIKE IS OVER! NOBODY WILL BE FREE UNTIL EVERYONE IS FREE!

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: 2.9k words! I hope you all enjoy, I have change some things so the story MAYBE won't end in 6 chapters, I love reading comments or answering questions, so FEEL FREE TO DO SO. Any misspelling will be edited later on

You enter the house talking on the phone. You take out your boots and went directly to the fridge grabbing a water bottle.

“No, shit, Jesse, of course I’m giving her space but I think you don’t get that it’s been two weeks since I last saw her”

“If I don’t recall wrong, you made some cheer girls spy on her”

“Shush, what was I supposed to do? She was suspended for one week so I knew I wasn’t going to see her and that she was going to still mad at me the next one, so I put April and Sav to do a little… research ¡I am worried! She hasn’t even come to the house to pick up her clothes, her backpack, yes, but her clothes are just like the last time.”

When you went to fight Abby at her department, you didn’t, Ellie had done enough job, so you just screamed at her and made her tell you what the fuck happened between them at the locker room and years ago. Abby, tired of this bullshit, told you everything from A to Z, and you felt more like a piece of shit.

Now you understood everything, at least saw the situation with a different light, you did slap Abby and told her to stay away from you or you would sue her for spreading your pics around campus. Since then, no contact between you two, not even in class.

“Well, you fucked up big this time, what can I say?”

“Thank you, you’re the best, How does it feel that she’s with your ex and you’re still in love with her?”

“One, at least I can talk with Dina without problems, our friendship is good, Two, they are not together yet. How’s yours with Ellie? Oh right, hanging in a thread”

“Blah, Blah, Blah… Where’s my fucking couch?” You turned around going on the living room to sat down on your couch but it disappeared, it was there this morning when you left.

“How would I know? Where’s your couch?”

“That’s what am I asking, Jesse!” You were going to freak out. You heard the water of the bathroom running, there was someone on the house “I think there’s someone in the house…”

“It could be Ellie”

“Her keys are not in the entrance, I will call you later…” You said walking slowly towards the bathroom, you could hear Jesse telling you to don’t hang the call but you did anyway. Once you where in front of the door, It opened and you screamed.

The voice of Ellie screaming at unison with you made you stop. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She said with a hand on her chest looking at you as if you were crazy. She obviously just took a shower and was wrapped in a towel with her hair soaked and wetting the floor. You felt relieved that it wasn’t a burglar, you nodded slowly reassuring yourself and saying that it was only Ellie… ¡Ellie!

“You’re back?”

“Well, still my house too, so yeah, you have a problem with that?” She said in a defensive tone, of course her guard wasn’t down yet.

“No, of course no! It’s just that I am surprised”

“Don’t be, this doesn’t mean me and you are friends again”

“I know… Do you happen to know what happened with the couch” You asked with a sad frown looking at her walk to her room.

“Yeah, I burned it in a remote clearing far from here”

“Why? It was brand new!

“It was dirty because of someone” she simply said closing her door. You had a confused look on your face as you were processing what she told you.

You locked yourself in your room, you did miss her but at the same time you had to find some words to tell her and you had zero idea what to do, God, she was burning things now, maybe you were the next. Ellie was walking around the house, you could hear her steps on the kitchen and the TV on, she was cooking something while watching one random quiz show.

The warm feeling that you had knowing that she was finally back at home allowed to take a long nap, a very long one because once you woke up, the sun was gone and you regretted it. You had homework to do and exams to study, you had to take it seriously since cheer wasn’t your major, you were studying something that your parents agreed on but you did not enjoyed that much.

They were donating monthly to the cheer team in exchange that you aced everything else, otherwise you would be expelled from cheering and from the team, even the coach knew that. Ellie always helped you and made it easy to study but she didn’t this time, obviously, so you had kind of trouble studying.

With your things to study you went to your kitchen, leaving everything on the table, you were going to study there but also eat something, you were hungry. You opened the fridge, empty except some sodas and protein bars… maybe in the pantries? Nothing caught your attention but the pan in the stove. Ellie had cooked one of your fav foods, was she torturing you? She knew that you weren’t going to grab the food nor ask her if you could, you bit your lip and sighed resignedly, protein bars would be.

Time flies while you were working in your homework, sometimes looking over Ellie because it still felt surreal that she was at home, she could feel your eyes on her but she wasn’t going to give you any attention or so she thought before you started groaning annoyed that you couldn’t understand a lot of things. It was making her nervous and irritated her a little, mostly because she knew that you stressed yourself easily over anything and that made the process more difficult and also because she couldn’t help you, you two were on a Cold War.

“What is it?” She said getting up from the only small chair of the living room.

You turned the computer around and showed her the topic, she started helping you and you were focus, of course you wanted to use the opportunity to talk but first enjoy her help. None of you realized how fast the time passed that until you let a small yawn.

“Maybe, that’s everything for today” Ellie said returning to her cold-self. Shaking your head you grabbed her hand.

“Please, don’t… I can’t spent another day without talking to you”

“We are talking”

“Don’t play dumb, I finally know what happened back home, I finally understand more your anger, Abby told me everything”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, waiting for you to start talking. She wanted to know what truth have you heard and if it was the right version of it, and it was, Abby told you the truth.

“So you went to her again?”

“That’s all you have to say? And it was not like that” You rolled your eyes looking at her “Whatever, what I want to say is that I wished you could’ve told me back then”

“Would it have changed something?”

“I have no idea, maybe?”

Ellie scoffed. “So my word was not enough? Telling you not to mix with Anderson?”

It was going to be difficult to try and have a conversation when Ellie still hurt and was defensive, which you get and that’s why the nap was a need, you were mentally prepared for this.

“I’m not saying that, but I thought it was something stupid like she stole your game box, not your girlfriend” You tried to explain.

“Okay, but you still had something with her knowing that I was in bad terms with her, why? I mostly want to hear why? I’ve been racking my brain searching for a reason”

“Because of you” Ellie opened her mouth to respond but you covered it. “Shut up. Let me finish, I did it because of you, Ellie, I’ve been in love with you since god knows when and I tried so hard just to be your best friend but I couldn’t”

Ellie eyes softened slowly. “Every girl that tried anything with you, I scared them off, I used the ‘power’ of being popular and I used to make them stay away from but then we came here and there was so many people that did not fear me or knew me and you were getting along with a lot of people, I was afraid you were going to finally find a girl that matched your type”

“Why you never told me that?” She said taking your hand out of her mouth, holding it now.

“I’ve tried! Millions of times but somehow you had a new girl in your radar or you did not read the signs, eventually I grew tired of it so I tried to keep you for me. The first time I got with Abby, was only a kiss in a game but that made me popular somehow and I was starting to get more attention because of the rumours, at the same time I saw how you looked at Dina when she was dating Jesse and how you started to talk with her when they broke up even if it was briefly, I knew you were getting interested in her”

“I have nothing with Dina…”

“Can you let me finish? Damm” She murmured a little ‘sorry’ and indicate for you to continue “That irritated me and I was thinking on ways, it’s going to sound bad… on ways to hurt you because of how you made me feel, like I would never be enough but I did not wanted to hurt you directly because I am your best friend, nothing else, you weren’t doing anything bad, just being social and flirting. Abby told me she find me attractive and ¡Bang! Match made in hell, it was perfect, because I knew how much pain you’d feel and it would be equal at mine.”

“So it was intentional? You wanted to hurt me?” She let go of your hand looking at your eyes.

“No! Well, yeah, I didn’t realized how dumb I was being but with you and Dina getting to know each other more, you lying to me to go see her… It was too much. I’ve been with a lot of people in front of you and you’ve never reacted until Abby, so it was the only person that made you protective of me while I tried to get rid of Dina”

You took a deep breath and exhaled softly, nodding slowly. “But this two weeks, I did some thinking, more like mini therapy and I’m ready to be your best friend and stop pushing myself on you on any way and let you be the judge of your love life. I don’t want you out of my life, you’re my everything and if it’s only as a best friend that I can be, I am ready and I know that I hurt you and that is going to be difficult to trust me again but I hope we can reconnect slowly again”

Ellie felt kind of guilty knowing that she neglected your feelings and kind of made you that way, she could’ve rejected you sooner… or accept you sooner, anyway what was done was done.

“I- I think that I accept your apologize”

“You think? Is that a yes or no?”

“I don’t know, I have to think about it and it will take time. Even if we start acting like before, my trust on you has been hurt” You nodded. Of course, you were aware of that but how long was she going to take? Also, you just confessed that you love her and she is not going to say anything to that? That made your heart kind of itching, you wanted to scratch it and, in the process, tear it out.

“I understand… Can I hug you?”

“It’s better that you don’t” Oh. Ellie already took out your heart and ate it in front of you “We can start slowly, I can help you studying and let’s go from that”

“Okay”

“You can’t interfere in any of my love life, nor go back to Abby, this time I won’t make you promise that you will, I just hope that you wanting my friendship back is enough to keep you away from her” Your mind was spiralling thinking about how much build up you had to do to rebuild what you had with her. “I’m kind of tired… I’ll go to sleep now, night”

She went to her room an closed the door. You were left alone in the kitchen and still with a little homework unfinished, but you had a new plan in the move, now that you had a green light you could start it.

“I’m going to the 24h store! Be right back” You yelled grabbing your jacket and keys, putting on your shoes and calling Jesse.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The music of the bar was mostly soft rock and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes was everywhere, you finally saw Jesse playing pool in his red varsity jacket with some guys of the football team.

“Hey, guys!” You said in your cheer tone, making them all smile. “Mind if steal your teammate for some time?”

“All you want, darling”

They started cheering Jesse’s name and patting him on his back as you pulled him out of the bar to the back part of it so no one could catch you talking and interrupt.

“They must be thinking we’re going to fuck or something”

“Ha! In your dreams” You let your back rest on the wall as you look at him taking out a cigarette “Give me one”

He light his up and came in front of you putting on in your lips and connecting both cigarettes to light up yours, all this keeping eye contact with you before taking a spot besides you, leaning his back on the wall too, that made you and he laughed.

“I’m sure that works like charm with the ladies”

“You can’t imagine” he shrugged “So what was that you wanted to talk about?”

“I will help you with get back with Dina” He started coughing because of heat you said, you raised your eyebrow blowing the smoke on his direction.

“What? Why? Is this one of your crazy plans?

Your relationship with Jesse was more of a partner in crime than anything, if any of you had this weird planning on something you could count on the other to support and help and he knew of your dying love with Ellie, so he was sure you wanted to help yourself more than help him.

“Don’t you still love her? Why don’t fight for that love back? You guys were cute”

“You used to gag every time you saw us”

“That was before”

“Before what? Before she and Ellie started something?” You nodded shamelessly, you had no problem admitting that you wanted Dina out of the picture ASAP. He stayed in silent for sometime, he was reconsidering the offer, most of your plans never failed and he truly wanted Dina back. “I don’t want to force Dina back in to my arms, I want her to be with me because she wants”

“Duh, my plan won’t work if she don’t want, this has to go smoothly, Ellie has given me second chance but with the agreement that I wouldn’t mess into her love life”

“Yet here you are” he smirked. “You are such a bad best friend”

“That’s why I want to be the girlfriend, now that all the mess with Cat and Abby is out, she doesn’t have to evade me in that aspect any more”

“Because you already cheat on her once” You hit her shoulder and he laughs “Don’t get mad at me, get mad at yourself! I’ll do it, but it better work, how much time is it going to take?”

“Some months, we need to let them at least some weeks together and then interfere between them, my friendship with Ellie still is fragile but she adores me too much, we will be back at normal, while that happen…” You flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and stamped it out, exhaling the last puff. “You have to tighten your friendship with Dina, be more flirty, romantic but not too much that you make her uncomfortable, enough to make her remember how good your relationship was”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Be the friend Ellie deserves and helping her through the hard times” you take out your phone to call an Uber to go back home, your job here was done, you just had to wait and have faith that Jesse was going to do a good work.

“You truly are something else” Jesse sighed walking back to the bar and giving you a last look.

“I’m just taking care of my girl”

Meanwhile, Ellie was at home contemplating her ceiling and thinking that maybe this time everything was going to be easy and that maybe this was a small bump that your friendship had to overcome to become stronger. She was so weak when it came about you, she tried so hard to stay at Dina’s but she was sometimes searching for you on campus without realizing that, sometimes it seem as if you were the one that started the cold war. How wrong was she about it…

taglist;; @boobdrug @lovelyxbaby @pedropascalsbbg@cherryimaa @yumimak @amberputh @cattjull @carylinflors @ghostlyfangs @teawithnosugar @azxulaa @elliesexual @gato-chino @divinesdior @yumimak @abbystoy @gosomewjere @isitadinosaur @sourgummywormsss @rhehhwfehwfqd @bubblymilktee @mulan-but-gay @liasxeatt @lookforthelight1 @slynxs @doveocean @onlinelesbo

for people who asked me to be tag but it's not, sorry, it's not letting me tag you, I'll try later or next chapter <3 I'm going to ask for 250 notes to post the next!!!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

PLEASE I need more punknoir headcanons if you have any I LOVE these I LOVE those two <333

(If youre comfortable with it any first kiss HCs?? I would LOVE to see your thoughts)

Oh I HAVE SO MANY SO MANY CUTESY STUFF and also I do have a First Kiss HC!! But this is long as hell so I'll probably post that set of HC next!

Thanks for this :) !

A LONG-ASS LIST OF FLUFFY-ASS PUNKNOIR HEADCANONS

Peter is actually REALLY good at rubix cubes now, especially after Gwen introduced him to speed-solving. He does it as a (slightly-nervous) habit now

Since the rubix cube was invented in 1974 - and Hobie is from 1978 canonically - he is ALWAYS picking up new ones and new designs from his universe to give to Peter

Peter loves them a lot and always keeps one on him, just for boredoms sake

Hobie always chuckles when he hears the sound of Peter clicking away on his rubix cube in the next room

They're both HARDCORE night owls

It's never really 'sunny' in either of their universes, because - one is noir and the other is London

But even then, they like to stay sleep in when they can, and Hobie will keep Peter in bed as long as possible, panda-hugging him like a sloth in the mornings

Their love language is sharing things - it's like words of encouragement, acts of service, and receiving gifts all in one

Hobie and Noir aren't the type to buy many things, or need anything to be brand-new, so books become their way of being with each other always

Noir likes to scribble neat notes in the margin in grey pencil, while Hobie covers his in bright post-its covered in sharpie and hi-lighter.

They've read each of each other's favorites, and always treat each other's books with care. Hobie introduces Peter to so many newer publications his world doesn't have yet, meanwhile Peter finds Hobie the best out-of-print or even non-destroyed books, copies that were destroyed in facist book-burnings in Hobie's world.

They kinda have an anarchist collection and archive at Peter's place

Being with Noir is one of the only times Hobie is super quiet

Hobie loves to listen to the rain at Peter's place, or listening to the scratchy 30's radio playing in the next room. He loves closing his eyes to the crackle of Noir's vinyls, or the sound of Peter typing away on his typewriter as Hobie lays on the couch

Even when Noir is at his place, it's a peaceful kinda quiet

Hobie lives on a canal-boat, so no rent, and no landlord, which Peter loves. And on foggier London nights, he and Peter can float the boat out on the river, sitting in the fog together

Hobie introduces Peter to a lot of new music

His favorite in Hobie's collection is Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, and any other operatic, classical style rock.

They're pretty low-key about their relationship. They're not hiding it, they're just not that big on PDA outside of hand-holding and cheek kisses

But they're still very intimate in public in a different way. Hobie and Peter always asks each other for their opinion in front of others. Peter is always acting chivalrous towards Hobie, and Hobie always speaks highly of Peter.

They may not be making out in public, but their own version of PDA could be just as subtle and sweet, even down to Peter adjusting Hobie's pins, making sure the words are facing up

Or Hobie flicking a piece of colored lint off of Noir, or leaving small bright, collage-style origami for him

It take's Gwen maybe a couple weeks to catch on

She can tell Peter and Hobie are like IN SYNC, like spot on with each other. And that they crash at each others places a lot, but she figures maybe they're just planning some anarchist stuff together

Besides, Noir isn't all that romantic - especially compared to other Peters. He and Felicia don't have that complicated history, and MJ is a friend (i think). So it doesn't really occur to her

Until one day her, Hobie, and Noir are hanging out at Hobie's place and she notices Noir already knows where everything is

Noir knows exactly how Hobie likes his records to be put back, or how much sugar Hobie likes in his coffee and tea

And she's like 'lol u guys are like soulmates'

and Hobie just goes 'glad u noticed.'

and Gwens like 'WAIT'

Peter unironically calls Hobie his 'lover'

Hobie ironically and teasingly calls Peter his 'lover' (he usually sticks with partner, but often goes with boyfriend if he knows it'll get a reaction *ahem* Miguel *ahem*)

They bond over the mutal feeling of 'what the fuck is this technology bullshit' A LOT

Neither one has a proper smartphone (ever since they learned about Siri they call phones wiretaps)

Noir only uses a typewriter and says screens hurt his eyes and the most technologically advanced thing Hobie with entertain is an arcade cabinet or MAYBE a Playstation 1.

But Peter also likes having Hobie explain things to him

Simple things even. SO many times people tell Peter what happens in WW2 in their worlds. It's..not fun to say the least

He likes sitting around, listening to Hobie explain things like the best movies from the 60's, or the best color TV shows

They have a date-night tradition where they try out something 'modern' (aka 1970-2023) and rate it, then write it down somewhere

So far, they both really like the Exorcist. Watching to together for the first time was one of the best dates they've had

(Imagine being from 1933 and watching the Exorcist with no prior context wouldn't that be wild)

Their apartments look SO COOL now that they're together!!

Noir's black and white apartment, covered in shadows and bright pop art posters. Hobie's bedroom half desaturated, half covered in zines and supplies for protests

You know how in old cartoons there's the trope of a dude in a trench-coat and when he opens it it's full of watches as stuff - Noir's coat is like that, but with patches

And Hobie will take newpaper clippings from Peter's Bugle and use them in art and collages because Peter's writing inspires him a lot

He'll use slogans from Peter's writings in his protest art, and use Peter's melodramatic sayings in his song lyrics

------

(once again not proofread because my brain dont do that sorry for typos i do be like that sometimes)

if you made it this far - thxs and i hope you have a rad day

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: Mechanic chapter 6! previous chapters are found here.

Warnings: fluff/angst/brief smut/suggestive, mention of violence, blood, drugs, smoking, toxic behaviour.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You returned from France after two months and found out Sihtric had been lying to you.

wordcount: 4,5k

Masterlist

'Give me one more?'

'Thank you,' you said as you gave your cab driver a tip. You grabbed your bags and suitcases and turned to face your home, ready to walk up your driveway, but you froze before you could take another step forward.

'Sihtric?' you gasped, surprised, and dropped your bags.

Your heart simply stopped upon the sight of your boyfriend, the smoking hot mechanic, who was waiting in front of your house, leaning back against a brand new mat black motorcycle as he grinned at you. He was wearing his dark sunglasses, and he wasn't completely joking when he said he considered shaving off his hair, as he had shaved off half of it, leaving his long dark curls only on one side of his head. His leather jacket was unzipped, revealing his hoodie underneath. His black jeans were old and worn, and his black leather boots were all laced up. You were stunned at the sight of him and your knees weakened. How did you end up with a guy as sexy and breathtaking as him? You were simply waiting to find something wrong with him.

'My pretty lady,' Sihtric smiled and held his arms open to you.

'W-what are you… I…how,' you stammered. You had so many questions, but you couldn't bring yourself to think properly.

'Are you just going to stand there, doll?' he laughed, throwing his arms up before he took off his shades. And you ran to him.

Sihtric immediately took your face in his rough hands, locking your lips in a desperate, passionate kiss. You tried to pull away twice, wanting to ask your burning questions, but each time he pulled you back in, kissing you intensely, simply refusing to let you go. He caressed your cheeks as he kissed you, and moaned softly against your lips, finally able to fully feel the warmth of your skin underneath his fingertips again.

'Fuck,' Sihtric breathed, before he kissed you eagerly again, 'baby, I missed you so fucking much.'

'I missed you too, so much,' you said and teared up, tugging at his jacket, 'I just don't understand.'

'You don't understand you missed me, lady?' he chuckled, holding your face firmly in his hands.

'No, you idiot,' you snorted, weakly punching his chest, 'how… why… when,' you sighed and tried to collect your thoughts. First things first. 

'Your hair?' you asked.

'You don't like it?'

'I do,' you smiled, 'but since when…'

'Yesterday,' Sihtric laughed, 'had to get a haircut before you got back home, it was a mess.'

'And… your… your hands?' you said, taking his hands in yours, and he gave you a light squeeze.

'I can feel everything again, babe,' he said, smiling, 'and yes, I can walk properly too,' he quickly said before you could ask, 'I wanted to surprise you, so I didn't tell you the full truth about my recovery.'

'What?' you frowned with a smile, 'but w-why?'

'A few weeks after you left I was able to walk without crutches already,' Sihtric said and kissed your lips again, 'remember you asked me if I'd come running to you at the airport?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, remembering that video chat very well for several reasons.

'I think I told you I was still walking with one crutch then, but I wasn't,' he confessed, 'and I already had my new bike by then,' he grinned and slapped the seat of his motorcycle.

'You're such a liar,' you chuckled, 'I can't believe you kept this all from me!' you said as you lightly punched his chest again, 'you're such a jerk,' you smiled.

Sihtric laughed and took your hands, pinning them alongside your body as he kissed you again.

'Damn, and I thought you'd be happy to see me again,' he smiled against your lips.

'I am,' you hummed, 'fuck,' you sighed and looked up at him, 'you look so good, handsome.'

'So do you, beautiful,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your lips again, 'come take a ride with me, baby?' he asked as he held your hands, hoping you weren't too terrified to join him on his bike after everything that happened.

'You don't have to work?' you frowned and circled your arms around his waist.

'Still only half days, lady, that I didn't lie about,' Sihtric smiled and cupped your cheeks, 'I made sure to finish work in time today, so I could be here when you'd get back,' he softly nuzzled your nose, 'I couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you right away, and having to wait even longer until I got to kiss you again.'

You giggled, 'stop being so cute, it's annoying.'

'Sure,' Sihtric smiled and rolled his eyes, 'come join me then? Hm?'

'Hmm… well, I really want to take a shower first. I feel disgusting after my flight,' you grimaced, 'you can wait inside? I won't take long.'

Sihtric gladly accepted your offer, finally being able to see your home, as he had never been able to set foot inside your house before. At least, not after that night he decided to go home, after he kissed you good night, only to make a u-turn back to you after regretting not taking up your offer to stay the night, which had been a near fatal decision for him.

As you unlocked your door, Sihtric went to pick up the suitcases and bags you had dropped when you saw him, and he followed you inside. 

And as you showered before changing into comfortable clothes which were suitable for a bike ride, Sihtric amused himself by wandering through your home, learning more about you through the little things he saw and found around your house.

'All ready,' you said, smiling, when you found Sihtric in your kitchen after he had helped himself to a drink.

'All ready?' Sihtric smiled, taking your hand and pulling you close, 'all ready for me, baby?' he whispered with a smirk.

'Maybe,' you giggled lightly, looking up in his duo coloured eyes, and you exhaled sharply, 'I missed you, Sihtric,' you whispered, sneaking your hands under his hoodie, feeling those delicious abs he so teased you with when you were separated.

'I missed you too, lady,' Sihtric whispered, his hands squeezing your hips firmly, 'and I want you,' he breathed, 'I want you right now, babe,' his voice became raspy. And he gently pushed you backwards into your living room, towards your couch.

'No,' you said when your back collided with your couch.

'No?' Sihtric frowned, his eyes darkened.

'No,' you smiled, 'not here,' you glanced at your couch, 'bedroom,' you said curtly.

Sihtric grinned and picked you up, carrying you into your bedroom, which he had inspected already when you were taking a shower. He threw you on your bed and you giggled. You watched Sihtric take off his leather jacket and his hoodie, showing off his toned body as well as all his scars, old and new. Then he beckoned you over.

'Come,' he smiled, taking your chin in his hand and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, 'take off my jeans, baby?' he asked with a sly smile, 'slowly.'

You did as he asked, slowly unbuckling his leather belt and pulling it out of the belt loops. Sihtric hummed softly as he looked down at you with a smile, holding your chin with one hand as he raked his fingers through your hair with his other.

'So fucking beautiful, babe,' he husked and lifted your chin up, 'give me one more?'

You smiled and sat back on your heels, pulling your stunning man in for a soft kiss.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed softly, 'one more?'

You chuckled and gave him another kiss. And without him having to ask, you unbuttoned his skinny jeans, and he climbed in bed with you while he kicked the jeans off his ankles.

'I missed you,' Sihtric said, breathing hard and heavy as he held your face again, smothering you with kisses, 'been thinking of you every night,' he husked, 'you've been thinking of me?' he asked.

'Mhm,' you hummed as you kissed him desperately, 'every night,' you sighed and allowed him to take off your shirt.

He kissed your neck and shoulders all over, his strong arms wrapped around your body as he gently moved you to lie down on your back.

'Every night?' he smiled while he took off your jeans.

'And every morning,' you grinned as you pulled him back up to you.

Sihtric laughed and kissed your lips, his hands trailing up your arms, to your neck, cupping your cheeks. 

'I'll have you now,' Sihtric said, 'I'll have you tonight,' he winked and kissed your lips, 'and I'll have you in the morning,' he chuckled and pulled you on top of him.

You quickly rid yourself of your panties while Sihtric cupped your breasts, smiling satisfied at the feeling before he sat back up and kissed your shoulder. His lips trailed down your skin and he kissed your nipple, then teased you slowly with his tongue and teeth, softly biting your sensitive skin before he flicked his tongue against your nipple, then sucked and kissed your soft flesh gently. You moaned at the feeling and raked your hand through his hair, tugging his dark locks for more. You were too impatient. You didn't need or want any foreplay. You had foreplay for months already.

'Just fuck me already,' you breathed.

'Oh, I will fuck you good,' Sihtric smirked and licked his lips as he pulled you back on top again, 'come take me, baby,' he husked as he laid back, his hands behind his head, looking up at you with hunger and desperate love in his eyes.

'Fucking finally,' you sighed when you felt him inside you.

You closed your front door behind you and hopped over to Sihtric, albeit a little clumsy, as your legs were completely sore. Turned out that Sihtric was a complete wild beast in bed, which you didn't mind, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to handle him again tonight… or in the morning. He could keep it up for hours, unlike your previous bedpartners. It was a pleasant surprise, but also quite the workout, and you really needed a moment to recover as he made you finish three times, and your head was still spinning when you closed in on your hot mechanic. Sihtric handed you his helmet and got on his bike, with a satisfied smile as he had finally fucked the woman of his dreams completely senseless only minutes ago, and he pushed his bike off its stand before starting it.

'The insurance paid you well, I see,' you joked, looking at his new vehicle.

'They didn't pay me yet,' Sihtric chuckled.

'Oh,' you frowned, 'guess Finan pays you well then.'

Sihtric laughed at that and revved the engine a few times, then held his hand out to you and pulled you in for a kiss.

'I love you,' he smiled and put his shades on, 'you're mine, lady,' he said and kissed your lips lightly.

'I love you too, and you're mine,' you smiled and got seated behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

'Trust me?'

'Yeah,' you said, squeezing him in your arms.

Sihtric took your hand and gave it a soft kiss, before he steered his bike onto the mainroad.

At first you felt nervous. You knew the accident wasn't his fault, but it still spooked you, being so vulnerable on a motorcycle. But the fear only lingered for a short moment, and you soon felt at ease again when you felt the warm wind sweeping through your clothes. Every now and then Sihtric would go way over the speed limit, and you had to give him a quick squeeze to keep him in check, after which he immediately lowered his speed. You had snuck one hand under his hoodie, and you felt his heartbeat the entire time. You knew he simply lived for rides like this. Speeding, but never being reckless or seeking danger, he just loved the feeling of freedom and control it gave him. And you couldn't deny it made him even sexier than he already was.

After a while Sihtric pulled up to a near empty parking lot next to a large forest area, as he needed a quick break. He was still getting used to riding his bike for longer periods again, and had to take it easy, taking breaks every now and then to give his muscles some rest.

'You okay?' you asked as he sat down next to you on a bench.

'Yeah,' he smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, 'you?' he asked and pressed a kiss to your temple.

'Yeah,' you chuckled, and watched how Sihtric suddenly pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

'What?' you scoffed, 'Sihtric?'

'Yeah?' he looked up at you, oblivious, 'what is it, babe?'

You stared at the pack in his hands, and then he chuckled.

'Oh, shit,' he mumbled and shook his head with a smile, 'yeah. I smoke too. Actually,' he said, as he lit the cigarette and took a drag, 'I recently started again,' he sighed and blew out the smoke, away from you.

'Christ,' you grimaced, 'now that's a turn off,' you laughed.

'I know,' he smiled a little shyly, 'I'm sorry.' He took another drag and went on, 'I started when you suddenly had to leave, for work. It stressed me out not having you near me anymore, so far away. It made me sad, so, you know,' he held up his smoking cigarette and shrugged.

'Oh, so I'm to blame?' you rolled your eyes with a smile, 'classy, Sihtric.'

Sihtric laughed as he flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with his boot, and he was quick to down a few mints before he kissed your cheek.

'You're never to blame for my behaviour, lady,' he smiled sweetly.

'You're so… god, I don't even know,' you chuckled, feeling yourself blush, and suddenly you got interrupted by the sound of numerous revving engines. 

You watched a biker gang drive by. The infamous biker gang of your city, the Ragnarsons. You were about to ignore them, but then a bunch of the men called Sihtric's name, to which Sihtric grinned and greeted them by saluting, and the bikers all did the same.

'What the fuck was that?' you laughed, 'you know those guys?'

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed softly and kissed your lips.

'Seriously?' you frowned, 'how?'

'I just know them,' he shrugged, 'everyone who owns a bike in this town knows each other.'

You knew of the unwritten rule that every biker always greeted each other in passing, even if they didn't know each other, but you were mildly concerned that the biker gang knew your boyfriend by name. You decided to drop it as Sihtric pulled you in for another kiss, and then asked if you were ready to slowly head back home again.

You were almost home when Sihtric had to stop and wait at a traffic light. You heard another biker approach behind you, who pulled up next to you and Sihtric. The man, whose face was half covered by a bandana, greeted Sihtric with a handshake. They talked a little, but you couldn't hear them over the sound of the engines and your helmet covering your ears. You felt a little uneasy as you noticed the man was part of the Ragnarsons, as you recognised his eyepatch from earlier. 

You held onto Sihtric tightly without noticing you squeezed him, and you watched him shake his head a few times, as if agitated. Then you saw the man reach into his pocket. He took out a few clear, sealed bags with some white substance inside, and handed it to Sihtric, who seemed to reluctantly accept it and shoved it inside jacket. Sihtric made a threatening gesture with his hand to the man before the light turned green, and then they both rode off in a different direction. You couldn't help looking over your shoulder as the distance between you and the biker grew, but you were left with a nauseating feeling.

Sihtric parked his motorcycle on your driveway and you carefully got off, handed him his helmet back and he followed you inside again. You went into the kitchen for a drink, and you soon felt Sihtric sneak up behind you, his arms around your waist. He pecked your cheek and neck, holding you tightly, and you tried to bite your tongue, but you couldn't hold it anymore. It bothered you how Sihtric seemed to act as if the whole encounter with the biker never happened.

'Was that a friend?' you suddenly asked, 'the guy at the traffic light?'

'Something like that,' Sihtric smiled as you turned to face him.

'Oh,' you nodded, 'so… what did he hand you? It seemed so random,' you tried to not show your concern.

'Just some stuff, love.'

'What kind of stuff?'

'None of your business stuff, lady,' Sihtric said, jokingly, and he kissed your lips.

'Well, now I'm even more curious,' you feigned a smile.

Sihtric smacked his lips and sighed softly. 'Baby,' he said, calmly, 'trust me, it's better if you don't know, okay? You weren't supposed to see that. And I'm sorry.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Just,' he shook his head lightly and clenched his jaw, 'just leave it, darling,' he said and gave you a sweet smile.

'Was it drugs?' you blurted out.

Sihtric looked at you and licked his lips. Then he looked away and raked his fingers through his hair, groaning softly.

'Do you use drugs?' you just couldn't help yourself, the words seemed to spill out without your control.

'No,' he said curtly, 'I do not use drugs.'

'So you deal then?'

Sihtric didn't answer, he just stared into your eyes.

'Sihtric, I'm not an idiot. I know how-'

'Lady,' Sihtric said sternly, 'drop it, okay?' he looked at you with big, almost threatening eyes, 'don't pry, baby, not when I tell you to leave it. Forget what you think you saw. Trust me, it's best if you do.'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm not prying,' you scoffed, 'you took me out for a ride, you knew I was there when you took whatever that guy gave you. You knew I could see it. Of course I am going to ask about it, you can't possibly think that the whole encounter wouldn't make me suspicious?' 

'It shouldn't have happened!' Sihtric snapped, 'he should've never fucking approached me! Not when he saw you with me, because we know the risks and we don't take them. The last thing I wanted is my girl getting mixed up in all this shit, and he did exactly that. He dragged you into it and I will make him fucking pay for that!' he spat.

You stared at Sihtric. Your boyfriend; the hot mechanic, the sexy biker and… apparently also a drugsdealer.

'What is that supposed to mean? M-make him pay?' you asked quietly, terrified of his answer.

'There are things you shouldn't know about, for your own safety,' Sihtric said, 'but I promise you,' he cupped your cheeks, 'I will never let anything or anyone get in between us, or put you in danger. Not without consequences, you got that, baby girl?' he stared down into your eyes, your back pressed against the kitchen wall, 'I will do anything,' he whispered, 'anything, no matter what, to keep you safe. I will do anything to make everyone understand that no one, no one, comes up to me when my girl is by my side,' he said as your the tips of your noses were touching lightly.

'I- I think you s…should go home, Sihtric,' you said softly.

'What?' he frowned, 'what do you mean?' he scoffed lightly, 'babe, you've been away for two months, I- I don't want to sleep without you tonight.'

His voice was calm but his eyes betrayed he was hurting, and slightly panicked. You didn't speak for a long moment, you just stared into his eyes, realising that you truly did not know who he was. 

Everything had gone so fast. You fell in love so hard, and then the accident happened and you became more or less inseparable, but you never truly knew much about Sihtric. He barely spoke about his private life, or his friends, or anything he did outside of work. You suddenly had no idea who you had actually shared a bed with all this time, if you were honest.

'Love,' Sihtric said carefully, 'don't… please don't ask me to leave.'

'I don't know who you are,' you whispered.

'What are you talking about?' Sihtric smiled weakly, concerned, 'you… you know who I am, lady. I'm your man,' he kissed your cheek and you froze in his arms.

'I think it-it's better if you go home tonight…'

Sihtric felt you became distant, and he took a step back, inhaling sharply to compose himself.

'So… so that's it,' he said, 'you're … you're breaking up with me then, like this?'

'What? No, I never said I want to break up with you. I just… I,' you paused and swallowed hard, 'it just seems that I don't really know you… how can I feel safe with someone-'

'You don't feel safe with me?' he interrupted, clearly hurt.

'How can I feel safe with you?' you asked, visibly upset, 'I don't know anything about you. You seem to be in some shady business you don't want me involved in, but now that I know something is up, I can't just ignore it. Maybe some girls are into that whole mysterious bad boy shit, but I'm not, Sihtric, I want to know the truth. And if you won't tell me…,' you shrugged lightly.

'You want the truth?' Sihtric said, wide-eyed, 'sure, okay,' he sniffed and cleared his throat, 'yeah, I deal drugs. I'm part of that biker gang and I deal drugs, it's really as cliché as it gets,' he said.

He would usually never tell this, but the thought of losing you tonight was unbearable. He'd rather get hit by a car again, hoping it's fatal this time, then walking out your door with a broken heart. 

'O-only drugs?' it was the first question you could come up with as you stared at him.

'No,' Sihtric sighed, leaning back on your kitchen table, 'there's drugs, fake passports, knives, but no guns, I swear,' he said, and continued as he avoided your eyes, 'it's just all kinds of crimes really, love. And I'm sorry,' he said, barely louder than a whisper.

'What were you thinking?' you asked, 'were you planning on hiding this forever, or…' you scoffed, 'that I would never find out?'

'I hoped I could keep you away from it,' Sihtric said as he looked into your eyes again, 'long enough until I could get out of it.'

'Get out of it? Sihtric, I wasn't born yesterday. I know you don't just simply get out of a club like that. Is that why you don't wear a cut? To hide it from me?''

Sihtric looked down at his feet, knowing you were right and he was only fooling himself here. And the truth was that he didn't even want to get out. He loved this life. He lived for it. He needed the thrill and had been part of that gang ever since he was barely old enough to get his motor licence. He didn't want to leave it behind. But then he met you, and everything changed for him. He fell in love and, for once, he was finally loved back. He was terrified to tell you all about him because he knew this was exactly what would happen. You wouldn't trust him anymore or want him near you. And the more you'd know, the more dangerous it could be for you.

'No,' he said, 'cuts are not legal anymore as it provokes fights. But we all know who is who in this world.'

'Of course. Anything else I should know?' you scoffed, shocked by the amount of lies and secrets you were finding out all within a day.

'The guy who hit me with his truck,' Sihtric said, calmly, 'it wasn't an accident.'

'What?' your eyes couldn't possibly grow any wider, and you thought you misheard him, 'what did you just say?'

'It wasn't an accident,' he said again and looked up at you, 'it was retaliation. I don't know if you've heard about that warehouse that caught fire a while back, over at the nearest city?'

'Yeah, I heard about that,' you felt yourself become furious, remembering reading that article and thinking it was ridiculous when you saw it was a feud between rival biker gangs.

'I did that,' Sihtric said, 'me and Uhtred, the president of our club, we lit that place up after they trashed Uhtred's bike because we wouldn't do business with them. And they took their revenge. It was dumb luck, the guy just happened to see me and decided to hit me. It wasn't planned, he just took the opportunity.'

You stared at him, shaking with anger and hurt, speechless.

'And… in the hospital, when you weren't allowed to visit me yet, remember?' he continued, 'they only allowed it because,' he sighed, 'because we basically run this town, and people are afraid of us. Of me. Of Finan too,' he said, 'Finan is part of it too. The Irish side of the club. He never told you anything either about me or the club. It's not his place. And,' he chuckled lightly, 'now you'll understand where all these scars come from. Or where I got the money for my new bike.'

You took a deep breath.

'G-get out,' you said with a trembling voice, 'get out of my house.'

'Honey, wait,-' 

'Get out, Sihtric. Now.'

'No,' Sihtric took your hands and trapped you between his body and the wall, 'please, love,' he whispered, desperately, 'baby, don't make me leave. I need you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never wanted this. I never wanted to involve you in this.'

'You lied to me for months,' you said and tried to get out of his grip.

'To protect you, I swear it.'

'You almost fucking died!'

'But I didn't!' Sihtric said firmly as he held you in place, 'I didn't die. And I love you. Gods, I fucking love you, baby,' he continued as he teared up, 'I need you. Please. Please don't break up with me, baby, please. I… I can't fucking breathe without you,' he let out a sob, 'I don't know how to breathe without you,' he sighed and stopped fighting his tears.

You felt helpless, stuck between your heart and your brain. Wanting to kick him out and never seeing him again, as well as wanting to keep him close and safe, because he did make you happy. He makes you feel loved, appreciated and desired. And despite everything, you did feel safe with him. Even now. And the worst part was that you loved him. You fucking loved him.

'I… I need time,' you said, almost inaudible, 'I need time to process this.'

'I can give you time,' Sihtric sniffled, cupping your cheeks, 'but stay with me, please, s-stay,' he whispered and pecked your lips, 'stay with me, baby,' he kissed you again, 'I need you, I love you, I can't think straight without you. I promise my life is so much more than the shit you've seen so far, it's not always this dark, I swear. Don't let me go, please.'

'I- I love you,' you sighed, weak, allowing his lips on yours again as your hands pulled him closer, having no control over yourself. 'Sihtric,' you moaned softly, and slid your hands under his hoodie.

'My love,' he moaned softly against your lips, his hands in your hair as he pressed his body against yours, 'oh, baby. Fuck,' he groaned and kissed you, 'my pretty lady. Hm, I love you so.'

'I love you too,' you whispered, 'but I… I need time, babe,' you said, desperately trying to keep your self control, 'I need time alone, just a little,' you said, 'even if it's just an hour or so, but I need it.'

'I know,' Sihtric cooed, 'I will give you time, my love,' he kissed you again, 'I'll be going for a ride, okay? For like an hour or so, good?'

'C-come back to me?'

'Always, love,' he whispered, 'I will always come back to you.'

'Where will you go?' you asked as Sihtric wiped your tears.

'I don't know yet, honey, just riding around town. Clearing my head too.'

'Okay,' you whispered, tugging his jacket lightly, 'be safe, babe, please. Don't do anything rash.'

'I'll be safe, I promise,' Sihtric smiled softly, 'I promise, promise, promise,' he said in between soft kisses, 'I love you, lady.'

'I love you.'

You had gone over your thoughts a million times when you were alone, and your heart simply won each time. You loved Sihtric and you wanted to be with him. No matter what.

And after about an hour and a half later, you heard Sihtric pull up your driveway, and you jumped up as he shut off his engine. You opened the door and ran to Sihtric as he walked up to you.

'Baby, stay back!' Sihtric said quickly, and you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw it. When you saw Sihtric. 

'It's not mine. So s-stay away until I'm cleaned up,' he said, his face splattered with blood, which apparently wasn't his.

And his hands. His big, rough, strong hands, the same ones he used earlier that day to pleasure you so perfectly, now completely soaked with someone else's blood.

Someone who was not alive anymore right now.

That someone being the guy who handed Sihtric the drugs when you were with him, therefore breaking one of the most important rules of the Ragnarsons MC; never do business when someone's lady is around, and if you did it anyway, you would face the consequences.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @n4tforlife

[borrowedtimeandspace]

Confusion Is Nothing New

Studying

Inspired by this list of g/t prompts

AU: Time After Time (Twelve AU)

Word Count: 2,039

Note: I live! And I come bearing dorks because I miss these two.

~~~

“Right,” said Bill around the hair grip between her teeth. “Hit me.” 

Just to the side of the vanity mirror, where all of Bill's focus remained as she got ready for her night out, sat Zepheera with a stack of flashcards. She pulled one from the top; it being the size of a poster, it was a bit of an awkward maneuver to make it stand so she could see what was written on it.

“ ‘The phenomenon in which two particles are linked to the point that they share a state of being no matter how much distance in space is between them',” Zepheera read aloud.

Bill hummed in recognition, then took the pin from her mouth to hold back the strand of hair she'd been twisting. “Quantum entanglement,” she answered.

“That's it,” Zepheera confirmed, tossing aside the card. 

Since their reunion, she'd taken to listening in on Bill's tutoring sessions with the Doctor. Seemed a bit silly to carry on hiding when they all knew she was nearby, and certainly felt less creepy. Now she could actually pay attention to what the Doctor was teaching her, watch him get wrapped up into the chosen subject matter, and see Bill's expression light up to learn something brand new.

Zepheera was more of a spectator than a fellow student. She was hardly assigned homework, it was more of an excuse to spend time with the Doctor and Bill when they weren't sneaking off in the TARDIS under Nardole's nose. Or getting into other trouble, like the incident with Bill's short-lived flat-share.

She still gave a shudder thinking about those alien woodlice. They weren't pleasant for anyone, but even less so for the borrower who was just about as tall as they were long.

Then out of the blue, the Doctor ended a session by producing a set of flashcards. He gave them to Bill and suggested Zepheera join her for the weekend for some study time. When asked what for, since the Doctor was more the type to assign essays than give tests, he only said that it would be mutually beneficial for the two of them.

When Bill shrugged it off as the Doctor being his odd self, he'd given Zepheera a wink and smirk that almost looked conspiratorial. She couldn't fathom what for, though, even now. Still, she'd hardly complain about spending the weekend at Bill’s.

“Your go, then,” said Zepheera as she reached for the next card in preparation for her ‘turn’. Finding the idea of simply quizzing Bill boring, they both agreed to more of a back-and-forth approach.

Bill bit her lower lip in thought, unable to let her brow crease as she worked meticulously on her eye makeup. “So… you're, like, three hundred years old, right?”

“Something like that,” Zepheera acknowledged with a light chuckle. “Though most of that time was spent in the twentieth century, so don't expect any help with history beyond that point. That's more the Doctor's purview.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Bill's lip, and before she could think twice about it, she asked, “Is that just a borrower thing, living so long?”

Zepheera let the extra question slide since the whole point of their ‘game’ was to bring a little light-hearted fun into the mix. “More of a me thing, really. Long story, alien nonsense in my childhood. Everyone else ages at a rate pretty similar to humans, as I understand it.”

If she hadn't been occupied with turning her huge card around to read it properly, Zepheera might have noticed the slight fall in Bill's smile. She quickly brushed the thought aside and refocused on her eyeshadow.

“Alright, what's next?” she sighed.

“ ‘A literary device involving the comparison of something abstract to something tangible’.”

Bill was quiet for a moment, wracking her brain for the exact term. “Metaphoric… no! Metaphysical conceit.”

“That's the one,” said Zepheera encouragingly.

With a glance toward the borrower, Bill muttered, “Why is it that the poetry ones are harder than the physics?” Then, catching herself in a question, her look hardened as she asserted, “That doesn't count.”

Zepheera hid her amusement behind the card she chucked aside. “By all means,” she waved vaguely for Bill to carry on with her turn. By then, Bill had put away the eyeshadow and started in on a liner, with mascara on standby. 

“Can I…?” She paused to reconsider her phrasing, despite the lack of technicalities being enforced in their game. “I've got a borrower-related question, if that's alright.”

Those were becoming more and more common. Now that things were basically in the open, Zepheera had begun to trust Bill with some knowledge of her people and how they lived. She didn't freely share this information often, but she wouldn't shy away from the topic nearly as much as before. Still, she appreciated Bill respecting her privacy. “Of course.”

“Are there others living on campus?”

Zepheera didn't answer right away. Worried, Bill winced. “Too much?”

“No, it's not that,” insisted Zepheera. “I just haven't exactly been all around campus. Lots of different buildings, y'know. Once in a while I'll find signs of people making shelter, but I haven't run into anyone.” Despite Bill's focus remaining far overhead, she gave a shrug. “It’s to be expected, honestly. School campus isn't quite the ideal place to settle.”

“Why's that?”

“Well…think of it in terms of real estate,” Zepheera explained, once again overlooking the follow-up question. “Sure, there's plenty of space for shelter, but a school campus isn't exactly designed for long-term survival. Most buildings are missing things like a steady supply of food, or amenities like access to clean water or gas. It's why human homes are better suited for us, as all that and more are within reach more often than not.”

Bill gave a thoughtful hum. “So if anyone else did live on campus, they'd probably be pretty far apart, even if they're permanently settled,” she inferred.

“Exactly. I sort of got lucky that the Doctor practically lives in that office. And thought he was clever about where he hid his nibbles.”

At that, Bill bit back a giggle, not wanting to put a wobble in her eyeliner. She put the finishing touches on before moving on to her mascara. “Alright, almost done. How ‘bout one more each?”

“Works for me,” Zepheera agreed as she pulled one last flash card. “ ‘A quantum principle regarding a physical system’s ability to exist in multiple states simultaneously until measured’.”

“Ohh, that's that Schrödinger's cat thing, innit? Er, superposition.”

“Yep!” Zepheera tossed the card onto the short pile that had formed over the course of their game.

When Bill didn't immediately have a question in return, Zepheera shot a look upwards. It was difficult to tell if she was thinking, or simply concentrating on the task at hand for the moment.

That mystery was solved as Bill asked at length, “Does it ever get… I dunno, lonely? Living so far apart from other borrowers?”

Zepheera blinked. It was a simple enough question, no more personal than any Bill had asked before. Yet it felt so thoughtful and full of concern without judgement.

“I mean…sometimes,” she admitted. “But it's sort of how we do things. We keep spread out because the more we gather in one spot, the more likely we are to be noticed. Making friends as a borrower is either a conscious journey or an act of chance. Sometimes both.”

Choosing not to go into the finer details of her self-imposed isolation from her own kind, Zepheera put on a grin for Bill. “I'm alright, though. Between you and the Doctor, I've got plenty of company these days.”

Bill gave a knowing smile as she closed her mascara and sat back to look herself over. “All right, done!” Satisfied with how her makeup turned out, she turned to Zepheera properly for the first time since sitting down. “Are you sure you don't wanna come? Kinda feels weird just leaving you here…”

“Oh, don't worry about me,” Zepheera insisted as she stood up and gave her limbs a stretch. “I can occupy myself. Besides, it's your first date in weeks! It'd be weirder for me to be there, if anything.”

Unable to argue with that, Bill shrugged. “Alright. One of these nights, I'm taking you out to the club, though.” 

Zepheera smirked, unable to tell how much of that was a joke or a genuine promise. “I’ll be sure to bring something to wear.”

As if taking the cue, Bill got up from the vanity and gave herself one last once-over in the mirror. Some of her pre-date jitters were coming in now that she wasn't distracted from them, and she fussed over the smallest details.

“How do I look?” she finally asked Zepheera.

The borrower simply smiled, more than used to the way her friends could loom when they stood. Bill had very little to worry about, she thought. She'd chosen an outfit that was casual without seeming low-effort, and her makeup perfectly matched the look and accentuated her warm brown eyes.

“Gorgeous,” was the word that slipped out. Zepheera blinked and followed up quickly with, “She's gonna love you.”

Visible relief washed over Bill as she gathered up her purse and started toward her bedroom door. When she reached it, she turned back to tell Zepheera, “Heads up, Moira's probably gonna be back in an hour or two. May or may not have a man in tow.”

Zepheera held a thumbs-up over her head and hoped it came across over the distance. “Duly noted.”

“Right. See ya later,” Bill gave her one last grin on her way out.

“See ya, Bill!” called Zepheera across the room before the door closed.

She could almost forget how much ambient noise humans and other giant humanoids made simply by being there. Every movement rustled their clothing and shook the world even in the gentlest of motions. And even when they kept still or slept, their huge breaths rushed in and out of lungs much bigger than any borrower.

With Bill out of the flat, the silence left behind rolled over Zepheera like the tide.

It left nothing to distract her from the odd feeling creeping up on her throat. Like her heart was trying to sneak out of her chest through it, and she only just took notice because it started pounding out of nowhere. On top of that, there was a cold spike in her stomach that she couldn't explain. 

Illness was rare among borrowers, and never came on so quickly if it did at all. Zepheera might have thought she was anxious about something, but she couldn't put her finger on it. There were no threats here, and she'd just been having a lovely time with Bill.

And now Bill was gone. 

Zepheera caught herself wishing she had taken her up on the invitation to come along, but quickly shook that off. As much as she could handle herself out in the world of giants, and trusted Bill to have her back if anything got out of hand, it was a date. Having Zepheera around would only distract Bill from having a good time and potentially make the date awkward.

It took a few breaths for her to rein in the strange sensations tightening her chest, and then Zepheera turned her back to the door. She tucked the used flash cards under the main stack, pondering what their purpose was once again. There was no quiz coming Bill's way, knowing the Doctor's teaching style.

That look he'd given her before they left his office… Maybe he knew something Zepheera simply hadn't caught on to yet. Wouldn't be the first time, though it felt different than every instance of him flexing his near-infinite knowledge of the wider universe. This seemed oddly…personal.

With that confusing thought, coupled with the equally confusing (and distantly familiar) feelings wracking Zepheera's person, she heaved a sigh and marched to the back of the vanity. Her fingers combed through her short brown hair as she vanished behind the mirror on her way into the walls.

Though her height had been a fact of her existence for over three centuries, very rarely did Zepheera feel this tiny.

[marshallpupfan]

Marshall Merchandise Update!

Got some interesting new additions for my collection to show off today! Eventually, I need to show everything off again... as soon as I get things organized again. I still have items I bought from early last year that I still haven't found a spot for yet. I've been slacking! lol

First off, this lapel pin... being graciously held up by Wolf O'Donnell. There's probably a "can't let you do that" joke in here somewhere, but I can't think of any right off hand. 😅

This was actually sent to me by a friend, who recently paid a visit to Nickelodeon Universe (an indoor theme park). While she was there, she seen this and got it for me, hoping it was something I didn't have. Fortunately, it wasn't! A fine item for my collection, indeed! She'll likely see this post later, so if you're reading this, thank you again!

Actually, I believe she also went a year or two ago and managed to find the Meet & Greet Marshall wandering around. She even got a picture & video with him, too. I was quite envious! 😄

Next, this "magic towel" thing. It's also being held up by another wolf - this time, it's Wolf Link, from "The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess". Can you tell I'm a bit of a Nintendo gamer? lol

Anyhoo, I was just doing some shopping with my mother in a dollar store when I happened to stumble upon this. It was only $1.25, so... why not get it? The artwork isn't the best, but hey, I still like it.

Next, one of those "Good 2 Grow" snack containers! Actually, funny story about this one. I was at a gas station, not expecting to see anything pertaining to PAW Patrol, when I seen one of these that someone left at the front near the cashier. However...

It was actually one of Zuma, which surprised me, since they usually pass him up to focus on the main four. I meant to post about it on Twitter/X, but like usual, I forgot. In any case, I decided to track one down, and I soon found one of Marshall at Walmart. It was the last one, too! Unless I'm mistaken, they also had one of Liberty, so I guess they went beyond just the six original pups this time. Nice!

As you might recall, we've actually seen products like this before, about a year or two ago. Back then, it was just the pups in their regular outfits. This time, they went with a superhero theme, no doubt due to The Mighty Movie. I'm not sure why they went with Super Paws and not the Mighty Movie outfits, but maybe these were easier to mold. Who knows, but hey, I quite like it when older outfits get brought back, instead of them getting forgotten in the sands of time.

I just wish we could see THIS outfit again someday. It had a brief reappearance in that "Mighty Pups Save Adventure Bay" video game, but that's it so far. Sadly, at this point, I doubt we'll ever see it again.

Er... guess I got a little distracted here, sorry!

Last, and absolutely not least, is this brand new item! Something I knew about for many months and couldn't wait to get a hold of one for myself! It's "Storytime with Marshall" by Leap Frog!

(In hindsight, taking these pictures in front of my monitor may not have been the best idea. Hopefully they're not too hard to see. 😅)

This thing is legitimately super awesome! They really got his likeness down so well here! I mean, seriously, just look at it! It's so cute! It's easily one of the best pieces of merch I've got in my collection now!

According to the box, it can do quite a lot. It includes 40+ stories, which I assume are based on various episodes (I haven't listened to them yet, but I also assume they focus on different pups, going by the buttons on the front... yeah, it's a shame there's no Rocky or Zuma again, I know). It has a sleep timer, to help lull the little ones to sleep at night before shutting off and all that. Additionally, it teaches "core learning skills" or something, whatever that means. That's cool and all, but of course, for me, I just wanted it because I absolutely love how it looks. It'll look great on one of my shelves! lol

I'll admit, I'm glad this came out before the new animation style got applied. While I like Marshall's updated season 11 look so far (I might make a separate post about that later), his original design is still my #1 favorite. A part of me hopes to keep collecting more merchandise of THIS Marshall, but I know that, by next year, they'll probably retire this design and start using the new one, permanently. Guess I'll enjoy it while it lasts. 😅

And that's all for now! I currently have another item coming in the mail; Marshall's new Rescue Wheels big wheel vehicle + figurine. It's been delayed, but it's supposed to show up at some point next week. Hopefully, the remaining Rescue Wheels merchandise will show up in stores soon enough, and I'll be able to show them all off soon. I might also have to buy a Boomer figurine, too. lol

[jakeluppin]

a couple asks ago, you said "whenever I start working on my novel, the first song I listen to is Pin" and now i'm super curious about your novel!! care to share any details??

okay so i have two (well, i have like twenty i've done bits on since i started writing but two that are still somewhat being worked on now) but one of them is barely anything beyond a rough idea so i'll focus on the one that's more legit

i wrote about 90% of a first draft (about 60K) and then realized there were some fundamental issues with it so i started over

i have about 16K done of my new draft, some of which is brand new and some of which is revised from the first

it's a ya romance because that's where my heart has always been

for main characters we have (which as i'm writing these i realize i am So Bad at describing characters in this way whoops):

jake - jewish trans guys who is only out to his older sister (rachel). at this point, their parents are gone/dead (i've been back and forth on exactly what went down) so rachel's raising him. he's been in love with his best friend (caleb) since basically forever. he does stage crew for his school's theater department.

caleb - jake's best friend. he's gay. he has a crush on their mutual friend peter. he's one of those people who are just so loving that it's so easily to just get lost in. but also a total dick at the same time?

peter - he's really into theater, always in every production, which is how jake and peter met. just before the story starts peter and caleb were running lines for something and peter kisses caleb. described by other characters as being the nicest person you've ever met.

and then there's asher - his family just moved to town as his mom is the new cantor at jake's synagogue. he's also into theater and auditions for the fall musical, alongside peter. jake and caleb are there watching and jake hears him sing and is like. oh. shit. i'm in love. it's not revealed until midway through the book but asher is also a trans guy.

it's basically just a coming of age love story where jake finds himself and love and it's just really gay and jewish and probably very self indulgent but who cares?

oh also i have switched which musical they do multiple times for various reasons and right now it's Newsies but it may change again. but obviously asher, my beloved, is cast as davey jacobs so it is pretty perfect in that regard

gonna just throw some random lines/short scenes from draft two under the cut because i can. feel free to not read them haha

“You can’t seriously be doing homework now,” Caleb scoffs a moment later. 

I look up from my assignment and just shrug. “I’m simply not as invested in this as you are,” I offer.

“But you should be. For me. This is an important moment in my love life.”

I chuckle. “I love you, Caleb, but I think overall if I was as invested in your love life as you are, that would be a little weird.”

“Nope. I’m pretty sure it’s in the best friend manual that you’re supposed to care about it as much as I do. Sometimes maybe even more.”

“Can I have a copy of this best friend manual? I want to check the exact wording on that.”

“Sorry, only one copy was made and I keep it under lock and key.” Caleb smiles bright, and I roll my eyes in response.

--

“But seriously, you were amazing at your audition. I’m not just saying that or anything.”

“Thanks. I grew up singing. I think my mom might have disowned me if I didn’t end up with a good voice.”

“Really?” 

Asher laughs again. “Wow, you are gullible or I am not as funny as I think I am. But no, my mom would not have disowned me if I didn’t have a good voice.”

It’s this moment that Rabbi Finkle steps out of her office and says, “Asher, don’t lie. No self respecting cantor could stand to have unmusical children, just like I couldn’t stand to have children who do anything but read torah all day.” She smiles at us both, light in her eyes.

“Isn’t your oldest an atheist?” I ask.

“Yes, but he still reads torah ever day.” She laughs.

--

“So how was it?” I ask, sliding in Caleb’s car. He smiles wide as he turns to face me.

“Peter was amazing. Obviously. There’s something just, sexy about watching a guy dance.” He pauses, sighing, and then says, “I’m really gay.”

I laugh. “Really? I had no idea!”

“Yeah, not like I told you for the first time when we were like, nine or something.”

“Oh yeah, that definitely never happened.” 

Caleb chuckles and drives off. 

I can vividly remember when Caleb came out, the emotions so strong they stay pressed in mind. I can remember his fear, his hesitation, as he told me in a small voice that he liked boys. I can remember the confusion, not understanding what he meant, not sure what that meant for me. I can remember the happiness and his smile when I said there was nothing wrong with him “like liking” boys. I remember the ache I felt, when after telling him I like boys too, he told me “girls are supposed to like boys.” That ache I didn’t understand, that ache I couldn’t place for years, that ache that would come when Caleb would refer to me as a girl. 

“Were you scared telling me?” I ask a few minutes later, even though I know the fundamental answer.

“Of course,” he says. “I was nine. I was gay. And you were my best friend. Why wouldn’t I be afraid?” 

I nod in agreement. It’s something that, of course, I can understand. Just the thought of it causes anxiety to crawl up skin, pulling tight at my throat. It stops me from saying the things I want to say, things I know I need to say. The things I can’t imagine ever actually telling him.

Like: I’m in love with you.

Like: I’m trans.

Like: Yes. That means I’m guy. Which, if you remember the I love you part, would make me gay too. Or bi. Not totally sure about that yet.

Like: Main point being, I want to be with you and date you and I know you probably don’t or won’t ever see me as anything but your girl best friend but maybe you could. 

Yeah. Probably a good thing I’m not saying any of that.

--

“...Honestly, the challah was so good and reminded me of mom’s that I had a breakdown. Standard stuff, ya know. Who doesn’t have breakdowns over delicious Jewish foods?”

“Are you even Jewish if you don’t have breakdowns over delicious Jewish food?” Asher counters.

[wof-reworked]

Thoughts on Thorn?

First off: sorry for the delay, this was sent to me during my drunk "send me opinions" moment but I only saw it when I woke up and was. very hungover and embarrassed lol. Will try to live up to the original idea tho (plus I am like 3 shots in so you did get your wish in the end !!)

ANYWAY. I really like Thorn. I wish we saw more of her being the leader of the Scorpion Den and what her actual life looks like bc rn it feels like she's become basically Sunny and Qibli's loving mom who all but shows up with cookies for them and their friends when she gets screentime. I think a lot of fandom oscillates between ignoring her and trying to pin some hypocrisy or villain arc on her bc she killed Preyhunter, which. btw. I do have an ancient draft about when I was rereading Sunny's book and taking semi-annotated notes. It's ruthless, but it's not the unwarranted murder people want it to be- she has no reason to trust the Nightwings and Preyhunter opens the convo being rude and challenging her. It's definitely there just as a fakeout to make you think Thorn is Bad News so the parent reveal is more shocking, but I think it shows a really cool and cunning side of her that I wish got more screentime.

Her and Stonemover are also one of my favorite side pairings in the series, not in that they could ever be together again but like. c'mon now. I'm a good sucker for a self made tragedy. I do genuinely believe they could've stayed together forever/become a truly happy couple if Stonemover didn't get in his own head and fall prey to the narrative about animuses and the Nightwing superiority complex. I find the way he describes her as "straight out of his favorite scrolls" as genuinely really romantic, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE m/f pairings where the girl is the headstrong, ruthless one and the boy is a flustered, hopeless romantic who wants to be her pet impress her and win her over. They have some really fun gender fuckery in their relationship and I think it's a missed opportunity to discuss wof's inverted gender roles, what with Queens being the standard. I like to hope they could (platonically) co-parent Sunny after some hard, necessary conversations, but Stonemover is really the big problem in that reconciliation because he's so stuck (ha) in his self-loathing and regret.

I think Thorn is a great side character, and I don't need her to be anything more than that. I would LOVE a winglet or smth like that about her time with Stonemover, but I feel like after the dynamic I've built in my head it would let me down. I think Stonemover should be a boygirl and just a little trans and Thorn should be a butch she/he lesbian but that's my own brand of interest.

tl;dr: that woman is so queer and so cool 2 me <3. I wish she wasn't shoehorned into a relationship w Smoulder since it feels like it was just added because Tui didn't want her "to be stuck as single forever" which is a lame way to approach a woman who absolutely did meet the love of her life and it just. didn't work out. I wish we let stories like that sit a little longer and showed her being happy with her found family of the Scorpion's Den pursuing casual relationships maybe but being happy with the life she's built that's filled with love from so many different places.

[futurewriter2000]

Conversations - pt. 2

A/N: I have all 30 fic titles written on paper and in a jar, so I kind of pick them out and this one came out, so I’m doing this one for now. Hope you like it. We’ll see where this takes us shall we, don’t think I won’t make a nice lil angsty plot twist.

xx

It seemed that some form of a friendship was built on that day. The two of you started to talk as if you had known each other for years. You had suddenly felt something extremely new inside your body, experiencing for the first time in your entire life; comfort. 

From all the people that you had met, you didn’t think James Potter would be the one that would make you feel quite comfortable and safe. It was as if you wanted to be around him all of the time. Besides that, there was something new starting to build in your soul... Something you would call a consciousness. 

You never considered yourself to be smart or intelligent, neither did you consider yourself to be anything special in this world but talking to James made you feel like you had been holding back on some parts of yourself that you did not know existed yourself. You would think that all you had to do in your life was finish school, get a job and work until you die but something opened up inside of you. Something completely new- a brand new you. 

Never realising that the both of you went up to the bleachers more times than you ever confessed, it was only the two of you never really went the same time until now. You had always managed to get schedules from all the Quidditch teams. It wasn’t hard to get, it was literally pinned on the public board next to the Great Hall all year. So you always waited around hour to two before you went there, just missing him. It was similar with meals in the Great Hall. He was an early riser, you were a late one. He always came first and you always came last minutes. Somehow, the two of you were like day and night but as opposite as you were, the two of you were somehow identical in your way of thinking.

“Hey there!” he caught up with you and started to walk by your side. 

Your whole body lit up like a candle that has been sitting out there cold most of nights. You beamed at the sight. “Hi! I thought you were already up there.” 

“Nah.” he waved his hand. “I’ve been causing some ruckus with the boys, so I’ve been running late.”

“Want to tell me what you did this time?” you eyed him and he laughed. 

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.” he winked and grabbed two brooms on the bottom of the bleachers. “I left them out here for us.”

“Why?” you raised an eyebrow.

“So we can fly up there.” he chuckled. 

“I’m not flying up there when I can have the stairs.”

“You’re joking?” he laughed. “You hate the stairs.”

“Does not mean I won’t get a nice bum out of it.” 

He started to laugh and threw you the broom. “Stop joking. It’s easier, come on.” he climbed and so did you, pushing yourself off the ground. 

“God, I haven’t flown since our first year.” you laughed as you made a circle or two.

Bewildered, he turned from the bleachers and after you, making his position right next to you. “You fly?!”

“We all do, JJ.” you smiled. “You know, since our First year.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not bad.” he followed you.

“I’m not bad, but I’m not Quidditch material also.” you rolled your eyes. “Wanna race?” you narrowed your eyes and he laughed. 

“You read my mind, (y/l/n).” 

The two of you tried to go as fast as you could on those old school brooms, turning sharp corners and twisting around. The two of you even flew over the lake, passed some of the students then turned back around to the field. 

As you said, you weren’t bad, but you weren’t Quidditch material either. You loved to fly, skate, rollerblade, ride a bicycle and do all sorts of things, but you never committed yourself to any of them. You were simply just a natural at these things, but you weren’t in love with them either.  

The two of you landed on the bleachers, laughing and laying down. Nothing was specifically funny, but the whole journey pumped the two of you with adrenaline that whatever you did seemed to be funny enough to laugh. 

“I can’t believe you never joined the Quidditch team. You would have evolved your skills sooner rather than later. You could become a professional at some point and we would play together at the World Cup.”

“Your dreams reach far but I’ve never been a sports type of girl. I always preffered books and arts over anything really.” you sat up, seeing him doing the same. 

“So is it a painter, writer, pencil hand-drawing...?” 

“I love all of it. I just love art in general. I see it everywhere, you know. In nature especially, in people, memories, objects. It’s quite an odd quality to have.”

“Yet it seems to be a really good one.” he cut you off and the two of you met eyes for a brief moment, letting the candle in you burn and melt. 

“Yeah,” you shyly turned away and brushed your hair behind your ear. “I’ve never really paid much attention to it, but you asked which one and I think it would be writing.” you finished and waited for his response but all he did was listen, so you continued. “I never really had much material or time to draw certain things, since drawing and painting takes time. You really have to have a large amount of time on your hands to start a project, but with writing, it is simply just sitting down, pen and paper and you start. You can do anything with art, releasing yourself to the imagination. You can create characters or beings, cities and objects. You can create secrets that never exist or people to your liking or to your hatred. You really have infinite choices.” you started to smile brightly, making James observe every facial movement you did and all of those were so interesting to read. 

He never really much paid attention to people, but you seemed to have this light inside of you that made you shine so brightly. He remembered you before speaking any word to you in all his 7 years he had known of you. Your lips were in a thin line, your eyebrows straight and showing no emotion- then there was your whole aura or energy that seemed to be closed off to anybody, restricted even and intimidating yet everybody knew when you had entered a room. It was as if you were calling people through your silence. Speaking to you for the first time made him nervous, but when he did, you seemed to be more relaxed and open to a conversation than he thought you would be. He let loose quickly and he seemed to trust you just as fast. Something about you pulled him to take interest in you, but he did not know how he would take that. You were an absolute beauty compared to him. You showed your culture, your lineage through your looks, and you had those elegant and attractive movements that just made people in awe. It was as if you had held power you did not realise you had and every day, he gets to know you more and more, he finds out that you are the most humble person in this whole school, kind as well, nicely mannered and you have this depth to your character that you continously find out with him next to you. You say something and he can see the realisation hit your face. It makes him excited and brightens his entire day. 

So how come a beauty like you, does not men kissing your feet?

“You know you’re really beautiful.” he started and you shot your head to him, confused. 

Your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach yet somehow still beat really fast in your chest. The sweat started to come out of your every pore, yet the wind made sure you cooled down. “Thank you.” you murmured out, barely.

“How come you don’t have a boyfriend?” he continued to ask questions that hit like bullets. 

“I-uh-” you stuttered for the first time in forever, just telling your journal a few days ago how you made no emotional reactions to anybody or anything. That was mostly related to joy, anger and sadness. Now there was another emotion at play, the one you never thought you’d be familiar with. “I dunno.” you shrugged and avoided the eyes that started to pierce into you. 

Your hands started to get clammy and you felt like you couldn’t breathe in your clothes. Why was he asking you these questions and why is he looking at you like that? Oh, his eyes are getting dark as the sun starts to set and you are setting yourself to explode from anxiety. However, you seemed to compose yourself. 

You tried to let loose as much as you could, putting your legs over his just as you usually did. You turned your head back at the stars that started to show in a darker shade of blue and you smiled. 

“I’ve always been picky with everything, even boys. I’ve never thought about them, really. It’s always been something else on my mind, so I have never took any interest in any of them... besides that-” you choked on your own words as he started to move his hand up and down your thigh, caressing it gently and innocently. “Uh- yeah...” you swallowed thickly as he pulled you closer to him. “I-uh... I thought that- umm... I’ve must have lost that train of thoughts.” you laughed nervously as he approached you, observing your every movement with his seductive eyes. 

“You said you’ve never took any interest in them...” he hummed, his lips only a breath away from yours. 

“Yeah...” you said, hearing no word that came out of his mouth as his hand was the only thing you have felt and thought of, meanwhile his lips were a second away. 

‘Him. It’s him.’ - you heard a voice in your head. ‘You want him.’ - it continued.

The tension between the two of you was extremely heated, letting your soul know that it was burning all of you from the inside out. Your gut was twisted in a knot, your chest heaving from the lack of air and it felt like this one moment would last forever. 

“Just kiss me already.” you seemed to say without any control and he leaned in, his lips crashing into yours as his hand gripped your thigh. At first you couldn’t find the flow of it and you thought you didn’t like it but the moment he pulled away, you could feel a tingle on your lips that wanted it back. Your heart felt like it was scratching under the surface to pull him back. So you did, you pulled him back to you, feeling that same fire multiply inside of you. You had caught the flow of it and it was sensational. His hands gripped your waist and before you knew it, your whole body moved on top of him. You felt as if you had no control, kissing him deeply, passionately and with every inch of power you had inside yourself. He kissed your neck and you heard yourself release a sound, you had no idea you could. 

You felt as if you could trust him with anything, even your body that you never thought you would give a glimpse to a living thing. Now there he was, breathing so heavily into your breasts and kissing them. All you could do was hear yourself release those newly found moans. It just came out of you and it felt as if it was the most natural thing in the whole wild world. You knew you wanted your lips everywhere on him and his lips everywhere on you. 

It was only supposed to be a conversation, though, right?

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: dark/key - hello folks happy chinese new year. which means they're chinese today :) [cw: talk of food]

Harry pushes open his godfathers' front door to the sound of Remus shouting up the stairs.

"Sirius! Sirius? Oh, hello there Harry" Remus waves at Harry with a rolling pin in his flour-covered hand, and chuckles. "Didn't even hear you come in. I really thought we aren't old enough to be deaf yet."

"Alright Moony?" Harry finds his lips twitching up, accepting a flour-less pat on the back.

Remus gestures vaguely at he roof. "Want to see what your dogfather is up to up there?"

"I thought he'd gone out."

"Well no, there's his key on the wall right there."

"Ah, he must have forgotten it then. I bumped into him at the store." Harry says, dropping the bagfuls of fruits on the kitchen counter, "He was determined to get the right kind of vinegar for the dumplings."

Remus snorts. "He likes to pretend he can tell the difference. You know, I think Tesco's plastic bottle works just fine. Did he take the bike, then?"

"Ye. I saw it parked outside the shops."

"You never see him forgetting his bike keys." Remus shakes his head, and Harry laughs. "More likely he's not even locking it anymore. I keep saying, nobody here would bother stealing it. The moment anyone sees someone other than a crazy old man on that thing, they'd know something's off."

As they speak, the living room window slides open, and Sirius pokes in his head before he proceeds to climb through the window. "Now who are you calling a crazy old man?"

"Oh my dear lord." Remus mutters, though his voice is fond. He shoves the rolling pin at Harry, hurries to take the bags off Sirius and helps him through. "Don't remember the door bell?"

"What's that? Never heard of it." Sirius grins, blowing a strand of silver hair from where it fell out of what Remus has dubbed the drunk McGonagall bun.

"You're not a day past seventeen in your head."

"Have patience, we're a few years off from seventy yet— oh hello Harry, pass me the rolling pin?" Sirius says as he weaves fluidly through the room, "besides, Moony-dear— the man who refuses to retire has nothing to say about ageing gracefully."

"Oh, maybe next year." Remus waves a hand dismissively, and Sirius and Harry snorts at the same time because he's been saying the same thing for a decade.

Then, they get to task, descending upon the pile of half-rolled out dough and dumpling filling on the living room table. They've been doing this for two and a half decades, every Chinese New Year's Eve, ever since the end of the war. If you asked Remus or Sirius, they'd no longer agree about why this started. Sirius says that Remus missed hope, and Remus says Sirius wanted to replace what he hated about his family. But Harry remembers that first year, how they barged into Harry's miserable apartment and chased him out of bed, shoved a cabbage into his hands claiming they've dug out Remus' mother's recipe. It had been such a mess, none of them quite knew what to do and Hope's instructions said little more than "proved dough, no yeast; pork filling; boil". It took them all day. In the end, all the dumplings came out precariously shaped and half of them disintegrated in the pot. But as they packaged some of the less malformed dumplings to Ron and Hermione's families, Harry thought— that was the most any of them had laughed, since the war.

After that, it just kept happening, year after year. Harry would bring along his friends and then his kids, and they banter through the afternoon into the night, while making an amount of food that could give Molly Weasley a run for her money. Every year, they tell the story of how Hope once taught James' whole family how to fold dumplings, and they laugh about how Sirius would religiously stick to Hope's preferred brands of seasoning. Every year, they try to put up the state-run celebration programme, only until Sirius inevitably turns it off in anger. They've never made it to the New Year's countdown.

"Merlin's bloody balls. How do I always forget what narrow-minded bigots they all are." Sirius would say, throwing down the remote that may or may not be vaguely smoking.

"Not all of them," Remus would reply lightly, "Ma had loved the traditional operas, back in the day."

And now, after all of Harry's kids have grown out of the firecrackers, it's quiet again. But they're still here, the three of them.

"It's not yet dark out. The days are getting longer." Remus says, as he starts kneading the second batch of dough.

Sirius hums, leaning back and watching Remus' forearms appreciatively. "Weather's beautiful out there. 'S bloody cold, though, I miss when I could stave through a winter with the leather jacket. At least the night will be clear."

Remus snorts, shares a side glance with Harry. "See what I mean, Harry? Old man still thinks he's a teenager."

"We balance out perfectly. Not all of us have been old men since we were a teenager."

"To be fair, Remus, he's right. You've dressed like this for as long as I've known you."

"Oh no darling. Moony's been dressing like this for as long as I've known him."

Remus calmly flicks pieces of dough at Sirius, who's laughing roaringly. And Harry thinks only about how it means more than the world, that these two men, after their whole lives, could have this easy warmth and happiness with each other. He thinks, no, he wouldn't give this up for the world. He'd be right here year after year, helping them through the frankly ridiculous amount of dumplings they still insist on making and mailing out. And after he leaves for the night, Harry just knows that they'd be out in the garden, arm in arm under nothing but stars. Remus will pretend he can recognise anything beside Sirius' namesake, and Sirius will pretend he's looking at the stars at all, and the new moon is kind, as will be the year they begin at each other's side.

[tanoraqui]

responding to @shrikeseams’s tags on this post separately bc it was getting long...

#tbf i think fandom puts too much weight on Turgon being the Staid One #since most of his cautious behavior is... after his wife died. and while he's trying to keep at least his daughter from Death By Doom #he was down to cross the ice in the first place! it's not like he turned back with finarfin! #IDK what KIND of hellion he was at tirion formal events. but HE WAS A HELLION LIKE ANY FINWION COUSIN. #I just haven't pinned down his specific brand of bastardy yet 

...because they are good and right and I DON’T want to fall into that Turgon characterization trap. Looking back at the text, Turgon first stood with Fingolfin to tell Fëanor he was a fucking idiot for swearing that Oath he just swore and like hell were they going anywhere with him, but after Alqualondë and the issueing of the Doom he was with Fingon in being, “bold and fiery of heart, and loath to abandon any task to which they had put their hands until the bitter end, if bitter it must be.” He was, if not eager for rebellion, certainly #inittowinit once they’d started.

I think that very “this is still a terrible idea but now that we’ve started, I’ll see it fucking accomplished” is what cuts deepest later, after Elenwë’s death. The end is too bitter already; he doesn’t want to be here and he doesn’t want their daughter to be here. Ulmo warns that a time will come when hidden refuges are their only hope and it rings true in his heart. And he finds some pride and joy again in the city he builds, in its long peaceful rule and (for a while) its continued safety even after the peace is shattered and burned elsewhere. Even as he felt Doom closing in on them, and he sent seven different crews to try to reach Valinor and plead for aid before all fell...

That said, I still think young Turgon prided himself on being more sensible than his older brother (and certainly more sensible than his younger siblings - a category which, again also includes Finrod’s younger siblings). Someone in this family has to be responsible, and it’s clearly not Fingon, and it’s rarely Finrod! The heavy, heady duty Must fall to him, Turukáno, or all will be lo-

oh, well, if the food fight is already started, then he’s going to throw a bowl of mashed potatoes are Carnistir’s head. For what he said about Irissë earlier (which Turukáno nearly punched him for at the time, too, and was only stopped by Findarato grabbing his arm and Tyelkormo elbowing his own brother sharply in the ribs.)

(Side note: my real hobby is referring to Noldor by their Quenya names when talking about them as children who had no idea how bad fighting could get.)

Tldr: I think Turgon’s brand of childhood bastardry is that he rarely initiates the hellion-doings, but he WILL escalate them, and afterwards might accept responsibility but might also loudly protest to his parents that it wasn’t his fault.

Relatedly, I think Finrod always had very good instincts for when it was important to be responsible, eg, when the world is dark, your grandfather is dead, and your uncles are on the verge of civil war; or when you meet a new species and need to negotiate your extended relatives into giving them land; or when an old friend’s grandson comes to you with a request for aid...or, once upon a time, when doing something would genuinely upset someone, whether they be one of his siblings or the artist whose ice sculpture looked really enticingly climbable, or genuinely upset the increasingly delicate balance of power in Tirion...

Conversely, however, that instinct for when responsibility is important means he always knew in his heart that almost all state dinners are 100% fair game for tomfoolery, hellionship, bastardry, and, dare I saw, shenanigans. And Finrod and Turgon were - you know JD and Turk from Scrubs, the “We’re not married.” “Dude, we’re a little married.” “I know. I love it”? That. So...

Edit: “will not start the fight but WILL escalate it, especially in personal retaliation” does still make Mandos the Turgon of the Valarin family

[anonymous-astronaut]

How about a seasonal ask: The Mercs all put their names into a bucket (Spy checks carefully this time), and every one of them draws a name, only putting it back if it's their own name. The reason? The Administrator has ordered them to participate in a mandatory Secret Santa Exchange. Who winds up getting gifts for who, and what do they give each other?

Omg i love this idea! I’m gonna assign them to each other at random, let’s see how it goes!

Scout: He got Medic! This is a little frightening to him, Scout is low key scared of the doc and is a little worried the he might get his organs stolen if he doesn’t get the right gift. But on the bright side, at least he didn’t get Spy! Another plus is that Scout thinks Medic is super easy to think of gifts for, I mean the guy just likes doctor stuff a birds right?? Scout gives him a mug that says “#1 Boss” with the “Boss” scratched out in sharpie and replaced with “Doc”, and a caricature of Medic and his birds that Scout drew by hand. Medic finds these gifts hilarious, he pins the drawing up in his lab and uses the mug regularly.

Soldier: His Secret Santa is Scout! Soldier does not think for a single second about what Scout might actually want, he only thinks about what (in his own unique opinion) Scout needs. He thinks Scout is far too scrawny, so Soldier gets him a huge tub of protein powder or straight up leaves a whole ham shank in front Scout’s bedroom door. He also hade makes an America-themed baseball hat, which is the most thoughtful he can manage to be since Scout actually does wear that kind of hat. Scout tries his best to pretend he likes the gifts, but he’s a little unimpressed. You couldn’t catch him dead wearing the hat, except maybe on the 4th of July, but he will eat the ham shank (or hit something with it.)

Pyro: They got Engie! They are very excited about this, but also a little worried because they aren’t sure if their gift will be good enough. It’s not like they can get him engineering tools or something like that, because Engie either already has it or needs something so specific no one would know to get it for him. Instead, Pyro decides to hand-decorate some cookies for him. The cookies range from snowflakes to unicorns to flames, even a little mini sentry. Engie loves it, he thoroughly enjoys savoring the cookies when he winds down each afternoon, and he thinks the decorations are right cute.

Demo: Demo drew Spy’s name, and he thinks of it as a sort of fun holiday challenge for himself. He knows he could just get a bottle of wine for the guy and call it a day, but he wants Spy to be surprised and impressed with his gift and knows that cheap wine won’t cut it. Demo does his research, he figures out which brands Spy prefers and gets him a new pair of gloves, a fancy lighter, and imported French Cognac. It’s pricey, but it’s worth it to see Spy genuinely shocked that the gifts are up to his standards.

Heavy: Heavy got Pyro and honestly, he is stumped on what to do. The only thing he really knows about Pyro is that they love fire, but he can’t think of a reasonable or responsible way to turn that into a gift. He’s pretty sure they like unicorns and stuff like that, and he does know how to sew, so he decides to make them a stuffed animal out of fire resistant fabric. It’s hard to sew and is very stiff for a plushy, but Pyro absolutely loves it so Heavy considers it a success.

Engie: Engie drew Soldiers name. At first he thinks it’ll be a piece of cake, Soldier isn’t exactly quiet about his likes and dislikes. But the more Engie thinks about it, the more he realizes how hard it is to think of a good gift. Ends up getting him something super practical, like a new razor or supplies for cleaning out his rocket launcher. Despite the fact that it’s wrapped, Soldier doesn’t realize it’s a gift and thinks it’s just a weird supply drop.

Medic: The doc got Sniper. He honestly doesn’t put a lot of thought into it, in Medic’s mind he has better things to do than worry about what present to get. Plus, he knows Sniper is pretty reasonable and won’t have a fit about it if he doesn’t love the gift. Sniper gets a six pack of hard cider and some store-bought Stollen with a bow slapped on it left outside he’s camper door. Sniper thinks that’s a pretty sweet deal, you won’t catch him complaining.

Sniper: He got Heavy. He wishes he knew more about the guy, but figures he can come up with something good anyway. He gets him some quality chocolate and a warm hat cause he figures Heavy’s bald-ass head gets cold in the snow. If he finds the time, he whittles a little ornament of Sasha out of wood. Heavy appreciates it, he especially enjoys the chocolate and is very impressed with the ornament.

Spy: He got Demo (it was completely a coincidence that they got each other lol.) Spy has absolutely no idea what to get him. Giving him alcohol seems like the obvious answer, but he has no idea what Demo drinks and doubts he could stomach purchasing such low quality liquor anyway. After a little consideration he ends up getting him a fancy and stylish Sporran. Demo definitely wasn’t expecting that, but he thinks it’s great fun and immediately gets out his kilt to try it on.

[searidings]

hi, i just love you and your writing

can i suggest something - you are in love (taylor swift) and supercorp

i cannot listen to that song without going yeah, that's them

(also on ao3 if you prefer)

Five years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, five years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which is as close as Lena's come to happiness since she'd woken up ziptied to a chair in her brother's office. This moment which, despite the fuzzy feeling of her unbrushed teeth and the pungent aroma of burnt toast filling the air, is perfect.

Kara, bed-warm and sleep-heavy, is gazing beseechingly down at the charred remains of a slice of a bread as though if she only pouts hard enough, its edges will un-blacken and its corners will stop smoking.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as Lena rounds the screen separating Kara's bedroom from the rest of the apartment and perches herself on a barstool, tugging her borrowed sleep shorts a little lower down her thighs.

Kara's tone is mournful, her face so forlorn she looks to be one deep breath away from tears. “I wanted breakfast to be perfect, since it's your first time staying over and if it's terrible you might not want to stay again and I, I really want you to stay again, but I don't know why you would since you probably have a private chef waiting for you at home and I can’t even manage toast—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Kara's bottom lip trembles. “It's fine, really. I once set fire to my dorm kitchen trying to boil an egg. And besides,” she winks as blue eyes meet hers. “I like to give my personal chef the weekends off.”

Kara huffs out a relieved chuckle, her face brightening. “Oh, well, in that case,” she grins, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “I'd better feed you up before you go home. Never let it be said that I don't look after you.”

Lena can't help the smile that pulls at her as the warm bright feeling in her chest grows and grows. She tugs the sleeves of Kara's sweatshirt over her hands, fighting the urge to fidget as the blonde orders a frankly obscene amount of food from the brunch place on the corner.

She feels exposed like this, face bare and hair sleep-mussed, unshowered with unbrushed teeth, huddled inside borrowed clothes after the impromptu invitation to stay over when last night's movie marathon ran late. It's a far cry from the regimented composure she fights so hard every day to project, and something in her chest twists anxiously.

Kara is a reporter, after all, and National City really doesn't need any more reasons to hate Lena right now. The darkest corner of her mind – the one which has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come crashing down ever since the whirlwind of Kara's too-good-to-be-true friendship had come blazing into her life – still worries that this may all be an elaborate ruse. A trap, a way to get close to her in order to assess her weaknesses, to bring her down with an inside scoop.

But in their six months of friendship, Kara's never given her any reason to believe she has any kind of ulterior motive. And despite the suspicions and anxieties hammered into her by a lifetime of hurt, Lena knows now that even if this is a trap, she'll take the bait willingly. Especially if it means Kara will keep looking at her like there might just be something in Lena that's worth her time.

"Hey,” the blonde says gently, leaning back against the counter opposite and pinning Lena with a searching look. “You okay? You kind of zoned out on me there.”

Lena jumps, blinking back into herself with a start. “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

The blonde only smiles, flicking on the coffee machine at her elbow. “You sleep okay?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lena answers, fighting to lessen the formality of her tone, to soften the edges her harsh childhood had sharpened into a fortress to keep the world at bay. “Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. I had a great night's sleep.”

"Perhaps the company had something to do with it,” Kara winks as she turns to pull two mugs down from the hooks at her shoulder. Lena thinks back to the smell of Kara's sheets and the soft pulls of her breathing, to the warmth of Kara's ankle against her calf and the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves in the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt in sleep, anchoring them together. She blushes.

Kara only smirks, pouring their drinks and grabbing the milk from the fridge. “Well, the food's all ordered, it should be here soon,” she says over her shoulder, the waterfall of her golden ponytail mesmerising in the bright rays of morning light filtering in through the vaulted windows. “And you don't need to head off in a hurry, unless you have plans—?”

She glances back at Lena, who shakes her head. “Great!” she grins. “’Cause I was thinking, maybe we could check out the botanical gardens, since it's such a nice day? Oh, and there's a new bakery right across the street that I've been dying to try—”

Lena listens to the blonde's excited rambling with an endeared smile plastered to her face, feeling happy and warm and wanted with every fibre of her being. The feeling is new but so welcome she could cry, and Lena wonders – not for the first time – how she ever got so lucky.

Kara's presence in her life is like sugar in her coffee; meant only to sweeten that which has always been bitter.

Lena's always taken her coffee black. Softening the blow was never much her style.

But here, now, perched at Kara's breakfast bar with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug the blonde has brewed to perfection, sunlight streaming in and highlighting the angles and planes of Kara's face, the way she’s smiling at Lena like there's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, she realises her reasoning is twofold.

Sugar isn't just appetising. It's addictive. And now that Lena's had a taste of sweetness, she's hooked.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Four years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, four years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which may well be one of the lowest of Lena's life. And she's had some doozies.

The two bottles of wine she'd managed to mainline between Sam leaving to orchestrate damage control at L-Corp and Kara arriving and attempting to confiscate her glass have well and truly caught up to her now. She sways heavily on her stool, the room spinning. Tears sting her vision and guilt scorches her throat as she presses a hand over her eyes so she won't have to look at Kara's face anymore.

“Please, just— just, stop believing in me, okay?” she slurs, heart full to shattering with the faces of lead-poisoned children. “I am not worth it.”

She hears Kara sigh, and the room falls silent for a long long time. Lena drops her head fully into her hands, fighting the nausea that's taken root in the pit of her stomach. It could be the booze that's causing it, of course, but it could also be the incessant headlines baying for her blood, the bullet James had taken for her that she'd fully deserved, the curse of her family finally fulfilling itself.

The guilt, the worry, the crushing disappointment of the knowledge that despite her very best efforts, she'll never be anything but a monster— it's too much to feel. It's too much to bear.

So, Lena drinks.

She drains her glass. She pours another. Kara watches, silent and disapproving, fingers twitching against the granite countertop between them.

Lena finishes her glass. Splashes the last dregs of the bottle into it, blood on ice. Still Kara watches, motionless and mute. It's only when Lena's swallowed the last of the red and is lurching unsteadily to her feet to source another that she moves, a hand reaching out to encircle her wrist.

Shame ignites beneath her skin and she pushes Kara away. Snaps at her to go home, to learn to recognise a lost cause when she sees one and just give up already. Kara refuses with a stoic shake of her head, and Lena sighs.

They repeat the same routine three times en route to Sam's wine rack, the blonde shadowing her every step. Each time, Lena wobbles, head fuzzy and room spinning. Each time, Kara steadies her, and Lena flinches from her touch like her palm is a brand, snarls at her to leave, to cut her losses, to just fuck off. Each time, Kara refuses.

She eventually retrieves the wine after a number of unsuccessful attempts but overbalances on her toes, bottle slipping from her grip as she sways dangerously. And then Kara is there, glass bottle caught a split second before it can shatter, a firm arm at her waist that will not be rebuffed.

Lena struggles, shoving and protesting, but this time Kara does not give in. “Enough,” she says quietly, firmly, blue eyes burning a mere inch from Lena's own. “Lena, enough.”

Lena's unsteady legs buckle further and Kara’s basically holding her up now, walking her slowly over to the couch and she shouldn't be this strong, surely, shouldn't be lifting Lena onto the cushions quite this easily. But it's such a minor concern when weighted against the fact that Lena is personally responsible for the hospitalisation of children that her mind brushes over it, forgets it immediately.

"Please go home,” she slurs as the blonde arranges her on the couch, as she stashes the unopened wine far out of reach and sets about finding blankets and pillows in various cupboards. “Please, just— leave me alone.”

“No,” Kara says, almost snaps, glancing back over her shoulder. Partially hidden in the linen cupboard, her face is cast deep in shadow, a splinter of half-concealed truth. “I made you a promise, I gave you my word. I'm your friend, and I will protect you. Always.”

She crosses back to the couch, soft blankets and pillows held out in invitation. When Lena refuses the offering Kara sighs, draping a knitted throw over her anyway and perching on the cushions beside Lena's hip. “I'm not going to leave you, so you might as well stop asking,” she hums, softer now, a hand reaching toward her that Lena no longer possesses the strength or coordination to bat away.

Long fingers make contact with her cheek, with the mussed curls tangling in her eyelashes, and Kara sighs. “You are not your brother,” she murmurs, fingertips grazing Lena's cheekbone, sliding back to thread into the fine hair at her temple. “And you never will be. There's too much light in you to allow for that kind of darkness, so put that fear down, Lena. Let it go. Be free of it.”

Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. “I poisoned children.”

Kara tilts forward and Lena wonders if it's just that her vision has upped its spinning, but then warm lips are pressing against her forehead, soft and delicate as gossamer wings. Kara's mouth moves against her skin, breath damp and sweet and unmistakeably her. “You saved the world.”

Neither one of them moves. When Lena speaks again, the words hit the elegant hollow of Kara's throat. “I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you.”

Kara's lips are still on her forehead. “I don't care.”

Lena feels as if her throat is splitting open, every last fear and hatred and worry and insecurity gushing out of her in an unstoppable stream. “I'm scared.”

“I know.” Kara's lips press once more, and then withdraw. They watch each other in the dim light from the kitchen. Lena's vision is beginning to blur at the edges. Kara's hand is still in her hair.

“You will get through this,” the blonde whispers, so earnest Lena almost manages to believe her. “We'll figure it out. Together.”

Heart in her mouth, tongue sticking behind her teeth, Lena's eyes slide closed.

The sweetness of Kara's words, her gentle touches, seep inside her like honey. She doesn't deserve it but God, she wants it. She wants to be worthy of Kara's faith in her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Kara more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.

And it's telling, she knows, that she's just lost the trust of all of National City, that she has no way of easing those children's suffering and no way to prove that she isn't the cause of it, that she's finally living up to the Luthor name she's been running from ever since she'd learned what it truly meant and yet in this moment, with Kara's hand in her hair and the ghostly imprint of her lips on Lena's skin, none of it seems to matter.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Three years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, three years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which stands alone as an oasis of calm in the turbulent tumult of the past days, weeks, months of chaos. Lex's escape from custody, Eve Teschmacher's betrayal, James’ shooting, the Harun-El serum, the whole shitty totality of it all has been weighing Lena down like an nth metal chain around her neck.

And Kara, Kara hasn't been around. The one person who has always managed to ease Lena's suffering has deserted her when she needs her the most and it feels like she's been sliced open, cracked in two.

She tells her as much, when Kara at last comes to see her. Tells her she's missed her, tells her she needs her, all but begs her to stay. And what does Kara do? She leaves.

And when she leaves, Lena is gripped by a panic so intense she fears she may never breathe freely again. So terrified is she that Kara is gone for good, that she's forced away the best thing that's ever happened to her, that almost before she knows what's happening she finds herself at Catco with apologies dripping from her own tongue.

Anything to get Kara back. Anything to keep her.

Lena apologises. Kara apologises. Lena cries, and Kara holds her, and tells her that the decision to help her brother when he was dying of cancer doesn't make her the monster she now believes herself to be. And standing on her office balcony with Kara's fingers wrapped around her biceps, with her own tears spotting dark on Kara's blazer, Lena manages to believe her.

When she's collected herself, smoothed away the wetness coursing down her cheeks, she speaks. “I really want to help you with your investigation on Lex.”

Kara's face lights up; Lena's whole world along with it.

“I'd love that,” Kara says, voice quiet and still a little tentative in the wake of their new truce. “But first— would you, um. Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Lena blinks. “Don't you want to get started on the exposé?”

“I do. But—” Kara's face is still painted that earnest shade from earlier, when she'd smoothed her hands over Lena's shoulders and whispered you are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lena feels her cheeks heat up at the memory, at the intensity in the blue eyes still roving her face.

Kara shuffles her feet but her gaze is clear, unwavering. “But you were right. I've spent too much time recently prioritising the wrong things. So, I want to work on this exposé with you, and I want to bring your brother down. But first, I'd really just like to have lunch with my best friend.”

Lena's heart trips in her chest. “I'd like that too.”

So, that's what they do. Kara asks her to wait, which she does, idly tapping out a few emails on her phone. And then the blonde is back, far quicker than should have been possible, with her arms full of takeout bags from the café on the third floor and she's taking Lena by the hand and leading her to Cat Grant's private elevator. She presses the button for the roof and Lena's gaze jumps to her face but Kara only smiles, and squeezes her fingers. “Trust me, it'll be worth it,” she hums, her excitement infectious. “You'll be safe with me.”

And Lena believes her.

That's how she ends up sitting at the edge of Catco's roof on a clean sheet Kara had borrowed from the builders on the second floor, heels kicked off, Kara's red blazer draped around her shoulders. It is worth it, she'll admit; the view from this high is phenomenal. The sun burns bright in a cloudless sky, glinting off the glass-sided skyscrapers of the business district, the glittering waters of the bay beyond.

Kara had picked up Lena's favourite salad, some flatbreads and dips, and they drink kombucha and eat strawberries in the sunshine. They talk and they laugh and they catch up and there's no more fighting, no animosity, no megalomaniac brothers or backstabbing secretaries or worlds needing to be saved. There's only them, she and Kara, and it feels like all she will ever need.

The blonde's hands are braced behind her on the rooftop and she looks happy and carefree as she regales Lena with stories of her upstairs neighbour's antics, and Lena feels the tight knot of tension that had taken up residence in her chest begin to unfurl.

"Hey,” Kara hums, pushing up straighter as Lena licks strawberry juice from her fingertips. The motion brings them closer, their shoulders brushing. “Look up.”

Lena does. High above them, a huge murmuration of starlings whirls and swoops through the air. Thousands of birds move together as one, a vast wave cresting but never breaking against the blue canvass of sky.

“Wow,” Lena gasps, awed.

Against her side, Kara hums. “Yeah.”

They watch the birds for a long moment, captivated by the ceaseless swirling and diving. When Lena at last tears her gaze away from the sky, Kara's eyes rest intently on her face. "Here,” the blonde murmurs, reaching out. The pad of one finger makes feather-light contact with her cheek. Lena's breath catches in her chest.

Kara holds out her finger, proffering the stray eyelash she'd captured with a smile. "Make a wish,” she whispers, her fingertip an inch from Lena's mouth. Her eyes never leave Lena’s.

Lena looks from Kara's face to the eyelash, and back again. From somewhere deep inside her heart, the truth bubbles its way to the surface. “I don't need to.”

Kara smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile, and Lena knows. The stresses and anxieties of their current crisis feel far away here, harmless as birdsong. She's meted out forgiveness, received it in return. For the first time in her adult life Lena has communicated an issue with a loved one and been heard, understood. She has admitted her own mistake without having it spell out the end of her relationship.

Lena smiles back. The weight of the world sublimates into nothing beneath the bliss of a simple picnic in the sun.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Two years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, two years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which has sapped the both of them to the bone. Another fight, another screaming match, another quick-fire back and forth of accusations and recriminations. Another night of cursing and crying and choking on all the things they never said before this, on all the things they can't now that Kara's secret has detonated in the shrinking space between them like a nuclear bomb.

Another round of bloodshed, and for what?

Lena sags against the arm of the couch, exhausted. Her face is hot, scratchy with salt from the tears still drying on her skin. She's dehydrated, probably, and half hoarse from shouting, tongue blistered with the bitter sting of betrayal.

Across the no man's land of her living room, Kara slumps against the floor-length windows, drops her temple to the cool glass. She's breathing heavily, cheeks wet, posture battered and eyes dark-bruised beneath the force of Lena's wrath. As Lena watches, her eyes slide closed.

It's been three months since Lena found out. Three weeks since Kara found out that Lena had found out.

Every night since, they've done this. Every night, Kara has shown up on her balcony and begged, pleaded, apologised, cajoled, defended, rebuffed, and sobbed. Every night, Lena has unleashed the hollow agony of Kara's deception masquerading as anger in her chest, incinerating the both of them in the fires of her desolation.

She would have expected the wounds to have cauterised by now. To feel some kind of release, the relief of catharsis. Or at least, to have expended some of her fury after all this time.

She hasn't.

They've been at this for three hours already this evening, and gotten nowhere. Kara's skin is pale above that fucking supersuit, face drawn and complexion sallow.

Lena knows how she feels. The singular exhaustion that is her rift with Kara has sapped her in every way imaginable. She can't sleep. She barely eats. She's no longer interested in work, research, friends. There's nothing in her life that isn't tainted by the shadow of the lies her best friend told and kept telling, every day for four years. Lena doesn't know how any amount of screaming and crying is ever going to get them past that.

Across the room, Kara sighs. It might be the saddest sound Lena has ever heard.

“Should we keep doing this?” she asks after an interminable silence, voice rough with tears still building. Her eyes are still closed.

Lena manages, with exorbitant effort, to raise her drooping head. “What?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Kara asks quietly, hunched body sliding a little further down the glass. "The explanations, the fighting?”

Blue eyes blink open. The weight of the sadness in them is unbearable. Lena struggles to find it within herself to care.

“Lying to you about who I am is the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and if it will make even one single shred of difference I will apologise to you every day for as long as I live,” Kara says into the aching chasm between them. “But I can't keep doing this. Not if it won't change anything. I can't— I don't want to keep hurting you.”

An hour ago, Lena would have scoffed at a sentiment like that. Would have parried back with some piercingly dry comment about how the blonde should have thought about that before she decided to betray Lena's trust as soundly as she possibly could.

Now, though— now, she's just too tired.

“So, should we keep doing this?” Kara whispers, throat working. “Or— God, Lena. Should we just— should we give up?”

Green eyes meet blue, two shattered hearts haemorrhaging between them. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” Kara's voice is loud, fiercely determined in the face of Lena's hesitant whisper. “God, no. Never. I don't ever want to give up on you, Lena. I don't ever want to give you up.”

Kara straightens then, with a strength Lena cannot imagine mustering herself. Perks of being a superhero, she supposes. Perks of being Kryptonian. The thought stakes another shard of ice through her bleeding heart.

“But I know that I've spent four years calling the shots for both of us by keeping you in the dark,” Kara continues. “I've taken away your agency. I've taken away your choice. I won't do that again.”

She sucks in a deep breath, a little of Supergirl's regality seeping back into the defeated slump of her shoulders. “So, I'm doing what I should have done from the start. I'm being honest with you, and hoping that you'll be honest back. I'm asking what you want.”

Kara's fingers twist anxiously before her, bottom lip bleaching white beneath the nervous pressure of her teeth. “Do you think we should keep doing this? Or do you— fuck.” Her voice cracks, the tears brimming in her eyes once again breaking free. “Do you want to give up?”

Jesus Christ. Lena never knew that the prospect of doing the right thing could hurt so much.

“Fuck,” she mutters as she kneads her knuckles over her closed eyelids, digging in until white lights starburst across her vision. “Fuck, Kara.”

“I know,” the blonde whispers from across the room, brittle and broken. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Lena slows her assault on her own eyelids, pinching thumb and forefinger hard at the bridge of her nose instead. “I want to give up,” she mutters, and in the taut silence between them she hears the blonde gasp, watery and thick.

Lena blinks open her eyes to find Kara's face crumpling, every facet of her seeming to fold in on itself even as she visibly fights to keep herself upright.

Lena sighs, and hates Kara, and hates herself even more. “I want to, but— I can't.” She sucks in a ragged breath, hating the truth that's just fallen from her lips, hating the lies that had necessitated it. Hating everything and everyone and most of all, hating just how much she's hurting. “I can't give this up.”

The tiniest spark of hope flares to life in Kara's eyes. Lena hates that she notices, hates that she cares, hates that the sight eases the tight knot of devastation clawing at her ribcage just the tiniest bit.

She also knows that this was inevitable. She knows that, though she hates Kara, though she's nowhere close to forgiving her, though she has no idea how they can rebuild from here or even if she truly wants to try, a question like Kara's could only ever have one answer.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

One year from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, one year from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which is barely even a moment at all. It's more like a dream, warm and faded and fogged in darkness, seconds stolen when sleep should have long since claimed them.

Kara's nightmare had woken them both. In the month since they'd pulled her out of the Phantom Zone, she hadn't slept alone once. Often, she stays with Alex, curling into her sister's side the way she would when they were just kids after one too many late-night horror movies. Once, she stays with Nia, tucked up snug in a borrowed pair of puppy print pyjamas.

Mostly, she stays with Lena. It's natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, the way Kara will show up at her place after a Supergirl save or Lena will let herself into the blonde's apartment after a late night in the lab. They cook dinner and watch Celebrity Masterchef and brush their teeth elbow to elbow at the bathroom sink and when Kara is inevitably tugged screaming and sobbing from her night terrors, the way she presses her face to Lena's neck and her hand over Lena's heart is natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, too.

Kara's racing pulse has calmed a little, her grip on Lena's body beneath her losing some of its urgent desperation. After a long moment of Lena's hand stroking her hair, of gentle reassurances and lips pressed to her temple the blonde pulls back, just enough to rest her head on the pillow facing her.

In the dim light filtering in through the bedroom window Kara's pupils are blown, her face solemn. There's something in her heavy gaze that Lena can't identify; something weighted and potent that prickles goosebumps up the length of her spine.

"Feeling better?” she whispers into the inch of warm air between them, reaching out to tuck a sweat-matted curl reverently behind the blonde's ear.

Kara catches her retreating hand and holds tight, twining their fingers together on the narrow swathe of pillow between them. If either of them were to move so much as a millimetre, their clasped hands would press against their lips.

The blonde nods and sure enough, the soft heat of her mouth brushes the back of Lena's knuckles. She shivers.

Kara is still watching her, the intensity of her gaze causing Lena's heart to thud hard in her throat. She squeezes lightly at the fingers threaded through her own. “What?”

A pause, heavy and sweet as overripe fruit. Kara blinks once, slow. “You're my best friend.”

Lena swallows down a sudden swell of emotion. The blonde nudges closer and when she speaks, the wet seam of her lips catches on the angle of Lena's bent knuckles, painting her skin with the words.

“You're the most important person in the world to me,” Kara whispers, breaths skating fire-flashes across Lena's fingers, voice muffling out past the mouth pressed to her skin. “You know that, right?”

Lena's voice deserts her in the wake of the quiet words. She leans forward instead, presses her lips to Kara's fingertips where they rest against the back of her own hand. It's answer enough.

She hears Kara's breath catch, feels the disruption mirrored in her own chest. Both their mouths are pressed to the joined hands clasped between them. If they were to move their fingers down even just a fraction, there would be nothing separating their lips but a promise, a prayer.

Kara's eyelashes flutter in the semi-darkness. The tip of her nose brushes Lena's own. Neither one of them moves their hands.

They only gaze at one another a long moment, and Lena wonders if the blonde is memorising the planes of her face the way she's memorising Kara's. She could look at her forever, be happy here with her forever, and in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

For the first time, she wonders if she might not be the only one.

-

Right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking Lena's hand.

It's been three weeks since they'd taken down Lex for the last time. Three weeks since Kara had stormed into the Tower's med bay to cup Lena's bloody, bruised face in her hands; since she'd brushed her thumbs feather-light over Lena's split eyebrow and purpling jaw and growled don't you ever scare me like that again. Three weeks since she'd leaned in and pressed her lips to Lena's.

It's been two weeks and six days since Lena, confined to a gurney but utterly uncaring thanks to the warm Kryptonian curled against her side, had pressed her aching face to Kara's shoulder and first whispered that she loved her. Two weeks and six days since Kara had first said it back.

It's been two weeks and five and a half days since Nia had walked in on Lena in Kara's arms, lips pressed to her neck and hands wandering beneath her sweatshirt, and promptly shrieked the place down. Since their friends had exchanged pointed glances and relieved sighs and congratulated them on finally making it official, their expressions ranging from overjoyed to exasperated to plain exhausted.

It's been two weeks and four days of she and Kara dating; of morning kisses and shared showers and the perfect partner at game night and all of Lena's wildest dreams coming true.

It's been less than a minute since Kara had admitted, hushed and wondering, that she'd known she was in love with Lena ever since she'd found herself suddenly prepared to poison National City's entire water supply rather than let Lena fall. That she hadn't been able to fully it admit it to herself until she'd found herself suddenly prepared to alter the course of all of history in order to get Lena back.

And right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking her hand. She's looking deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice barely rises above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And now that she has, Lena is sure of her answer.

The highlight reel of her relationship with Kara lays itself at Lena's feet, each precious memory between them stretching out like a roadmap of her growing affection, with every hard-won step leading her right to this moment.

And in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love with Kara. Really, she always has been.

[darkherolovercroissant]

Unforgivable

Simon Ghost Riley

Library 📚

Warnings: This is a cowboy au story, so mature themes. mature language and themes. If you are uncomfortable with these themes, pls don’t read…. Also I saw that @caveofbats wants more cowboy ghost stories, so I’m pushing through my sickness and creating a story.

__________________________________________

The roads as dusty as they were, seemed to be tainted with the blood that was spilt by those who choose to introduce chaos in such a calm town. The sherif was constantly pinning up bounty posters, hoping some sorry sod will stumble in and take a chance at fifty dollars. No one seemed to take any and the crime rate only went up, which in turn hurt the town as people fled and others put up warnings to stay away if they could.

However, one person seemed to think the warnings were stupid as these rich and arrogant bounty hunters that looked down on these “cheap bounties” since it wasn’t over one hundred per head. The way he walked into town to see worried looks from the few that remained , strutting into the sheriff’s office, he started unpinning posters and waved off after he received information for the first one.

Promised more information for the return of the criminals, he strutted out to his horse that was hitched outside. Riding out into the desert hills, he began tracking and soon the criminals would learn that there was a ghost on their trail. The games began and he was going to finish them one by one. If no one was going to, he might as well show everyone how it’s done.

Looking up the hill, he adjusted his cowboy hat and smirked underneath his mask as his first capture was within a few feet. Soon they would be seeing the ground as he hoisted them over his horse and brought them into the town and right into the jail house.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months as Ghost haunted his victims all over the country. Some thinking they’d be safe up in the snowy mountains, but they’d be hunted even after the snow covered their tracks. They hid in tiny villages, but the civilians were more than happy to rat them out for a few dollars.

Every poster started adding up and he was just coming out of the gunsmith with a new scoped Carcano rifle when the sheriff was staring at him with a brand new bounty poster. Slinging the gun over his shoulder, he took the poster but almost fainted when he saw the price on this one’s head.

“Fifteen thousand!? What did this bastard do?” Ghost asks as he tries to think on what they must of done to accumulate such a price.

“Riley Black . A bloody bastard for sure. They take pride in killing and robbing. They hang their victims and use them for target practice, but by the time we find the bodies, they’re long gone. Last we heard, they were down by Hutches creek, that’s just south of tumbleweed. My guess they’ll be hitting them next.” The sheriff huffs

Ghost nods and mounts his horse and prepares for the three day journey he’s facing when the sheriff stops him.

“Look son, you’ve been a good help. Im just gonna warn ya. This one will be more challenging for more than one reason. While Riley is dangerous, you’re also going to be dealing with multiple bounty hunters. Now that they’re back on the market, you’ll be dealing with more than just a cold killer.” He nods

—————

The desert got quite cold at night and Ghost decided it wasn’t fair to his companion to continue tonight after the work they’ve put in, so he sets up camp while looking at the poster. Getting a good look at the sketch and seeing those haunting eyes looking into his equally haunting ones.

“Im going to have fun bringing you in, Riley” he mutters before tipping his hat down and falling asleep.

———

The morning sunlight had been burning for already five hours and Ghost had made progress over the hills as he tries to reach tumbleweed before Black. It was going great until something caught his eye.

Pulling out the Carcano rifle, he looks through the scope to see a body hanging from a tree. What looked like a young woman, but unfortunately she wasn’t the only one.

“Bloody hell. The bastard really is sick” Ghost mutters

Riding up closer, he shoots the rope as three bodies fall to the ground, one after the other. They were still warm, so they were obviously fresh kills and looking at the shade of red that stained their clothes, they were done just this morning.

“You can’t have gotten far. You’ll pay for what crimes you committed” Ghost says as he takes the shovel from the side of his horse’s saddle and takes the time to dig three graves.

As he marches onwards, he spots smoke coming from a small camp. Not thinking anything of it, until he saw that familiar hat.

“Looks like I’m going to be much richer tonight” Ghost snickers as he urges his horse to quietly take him to you.

“Riley Black?”

He turns around with a hand on his revolver at the unfamiliar voice. Coming to a standstill with some guy in a skull mask with a fancy gun, he just huffs before turning back to his cup of coffee.

“Who May you be, huh?. Some kind of bounty hunter? You don’t look like the sort.” Riley snorts

“I got a poster with a big price below YOUR name. Now, we can either do this the hard way, or the easy way.” Ghost huffs

“I have no interest in going peacefully and I know you need me to come in alive for that big price.”

“Unfortunately” Ghost snarls

The rushes of horses galloping their way put the conversation on pause as what Ghost was warned about came true.

“Friends of yours?” He taunts

“I work alone” he replied

“Charming. Tell ya what, you help me take them down and I’ll give you what you want, or you can miss out of a big pay.” Riley smirks

He aims his rifle at the group of bounty hunters as Black grabs his rifle and begins to take the vultures out one by one.

As they started getting closer, he swapped to his cattleman revolvers and began dropping them faster now that he was closer to his targets.

As the last man fell off his horse, Ghost grabbed his lasso and pushed Riley Black to the ground.

“I can offer you more than they’re offering. I got more money than they could even dream of” he tried squirming which earned a kick in the gut.

“Oh just shut up. You’re going to see the punishment for your crimes.” Ghost was beyond annoyed at this target. Taking a good look at the beautiful creature that he once rode around the country, he untethered it and hitched it to the saddle of his and mounted his trusty horse and started making the trip back to the heartlands.

————

Riding into the familiar town, the sheriff was the first to greet him as he dropped Black down on the porch of the sheriff’s office.

“They’re all yours sheriff.” Ghost groans as he stretches.

“You might have won, but I’ll go out knowing that you and your friends failed to help all those innocent people. Who’s really the bad guy here, huh? Cause I’ll tell you something sheriff, there’s no good guy in this scenario.” Riley smirks

The sheriff hands Ghost his money and he hears him scoff.

“Money tainted by blood. Do you feel proud of yourself?” Black taunts

Ghosts hand grabs his face and makes him look him in the eyes.

“My money isn’t tainted by blood the way yours is. I kill people sure, but it’s people that need killing. I also don’t leave my victims up in places for the other innocent people to see.” He says before leaving.

———

As he leaves the saloon that night, he hears your name briefly before the judge orders for you to be sentenced to death by hanging. Untethering his horse, he walks back up towards the sheriffs office looking for more work.

“Unfortunately I’m all out, go check out that town out west. I think it’s called Oakville, they may have work for you.” The sheriff chuckles

Ghost just nods and heads out west with his new line of work laid out infront of him. As he strolls into the small town, he meets familiar eyes that light up when they see him.

“Long time no see, sir” the Scottish accent makes its way into Ghosts ears.

“Anything good McTavish?”

“Oh boy you’re gonna love this next one. Some crazy bastard robbing banks. Got a whole gang with him. At least ten of them.” John smiles

“We’ll need a gang of our own if we want to take them.” Ghost sighs

“Already on that sir. Ain’t that right sir?” John smiles

Ghost turns to look behind him as he sees familiar teammates walking over.

Price, Roach, Gaz, Laswell and you all approach and suddenly Ghost is back in the saddle as the gang pulls out and heading up north to hunt this bloody bastard.