#I vaguely remember going ham on this one but let me see just how hard I went *opens essay* *gets flashbanged by how hard I went*

[randomcollection-o-stuff]

Let’s go boys, got a 100 on my anti-capitalist and anti-oligopoly essay (rant)

[theladyofdeath]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the  predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating. 

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance. 

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?” 

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.” 

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.” 

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.

[yellowocaballero]

This chapter is amazing!! Just where do I start! First of all I love your inclusion of "Dawn". just reading our trainer character going through and seeing time and space for a moment was so cool. Like I really was seeing things through her eyes... And when the "Dawn" character told the protagonist that they shared the same name 🥺🥺 and how they thought the protag was so cool and wanted to be just like her, and that's how she got to where she is now 🥺. For a moment I thought she was gonna turn out to be a descendant of the protag and Ingo would remark they looked identical or something. Like, protag would go back to the modern day but knowing that someone with her blood was like her neighbor or a celebrity. Also the Emmet letter was heartbreaking but so very sweet. The brothers are more sad to me if Ingo is the younger one lmao.

I'm really happy Akari has finally realized how valuable she is as a person, or at least on the road to it. Not to mention the convo for Rei, i like how you didn't ham in any romance into the work. Like if there is any romance, its not shouted, its just there with traces. Also her being the overseer of the clans/team contract was really funny to me. Honestly I was surprised for a second but her role as a mediator suits her. I'm really happy for her

Thank you!!!

Definitely romance in that situation would have felt so weird haha. Being someone else's ancestor would also feel SO weird. I didn't mention Akari's sexuality because it wasn't relevant, but since she's just Vaguely Me she's probably aroace. As it stands we have absolutely no explanation as to why Dawn and Akari look so similar and have the same name. Maybe Arceus has same-face syndrome when designing protaganists?

I really liked how the letter turned out. I'm rarely happy with stuff like that, but I was pretty happy with it. If it helps (?), when Emmet says something along the lines of "you're my little brother (would you believe me if I said that?)", I meant that Ingo was OLDER and that Emmet was teasing him by pretending he was younger. As in, did Ingo really remember so little that he would believe Emmet if he told him that he was younger? So if that helps???

Akari's arc was purposefully made a bit subdued and subtle, but it's still a big influence in the story. Just a local teen with bad self-esteem, who's been through something pretty traumatic and feels rejected. She had found something resembling a community in Galaxy Team and Jubilife, and she hadn't been able to get over their rejection. She probably always felt weird and an outsider at home, and she's an outsider here too. The timeline thing is a very flashy and fictionalized way of depicting something very simple - that our relationships matter, and that the good we do in the world matters. That nobody's really unimportant, and when you help people and care about people then they'll care about you back. Community will find you and this is a threat. Very Ghibli.

I think Pokemon lends itself well to a message that can be as simple as "let people care about you" or "you're deserving of love" or just a very 'Good Place' what we owe to each other type of thing. Ingo summed it up pretty succinctly - that even if it's hard to believe and even if she still feels alienated, she's not riding this line alone. And it's not really until she accepts that she CAN change things that she decides to change things.

The mediator thing was pretty important to me. I realllyyyy didn't want to go Dances with Pokewolves and have a white ("white") savior narrative in there. I didn't want Akari to show up and use her colonizer culture to fix colonization. I hope I made it clear enough that the solution isn't for the clans to become Pokemon trainers as Akari understands them. It's not about catching Pokemon or battling, it's just about teaching them how to train Pokemon so they can protect themselves better against wild Pokemon and deepen their pre-existing relationships.

At the end of the day Akari just used her connections and respect among both cultures to bring the conversation to a more open and honest footing. And use her army of sentient WMDs to make sure that nobody gets into any fights about it and that any agreements are honored. I hoped that was the most respectful way to depict both Akari's passion for decolonization, Adaman and Irida's autonomy and importance, Galaxy Team's [unrealistically...] good intentions, and punting any ideas of modernity/civility/advancement out of the window. Not completely sure if I got it right but I did the best I could considering - woof, the messaging of the source material, the fuck.

God, like. I don't LIKE talking about colonization from this super messy perspective. Going too realistic would really ruin the tone and just make the whole thing even weirder. The entire story was a really weird balancing act and I ended up having to frame the events and narrative really carefully. I was sweating over it quite a bit, but it was so incredibly weird how the Jubilife guys talked so much about how Hisui was some lawless, dangerous unsettled and uninhabited wasteland where nobody could possibly survive...when the Pearl & Diamond guys are just chilling. It's bad rhetoric. I didn't want to prop up D&P as inherently more moral and virtuous and good than the GT by nature of being indigenous, but I don't think D&P would have let a fifteen year old get mauled by wild Shinx if she wasn't a Pokemon catching genius, is what I'm saying. It was just weird and I couldn't leave it alone. Balancing that weirdness was the hardest work of the story.

Stuff I don't like talking about because it's so out of my lane that it's not even funny but it would be disingenuous not to address. Thanks for reading! We'll see if Akari's efforts helped any in the epilogue.

[alittleimagine]

just a favor pt. 2

derek hale x reader

prologue part 1

The Hale house outside San Francisco was smaller than the house Derek had taken over when his parents had left Beacon Hills behind, but it was still larger than you expected. 

Your ideas of San Francisco and the surrounding areas always involved narrow homes on steep hills, and to be fair the majority of your knowledge regarding the housing market came from Kira, but the warm-toned two-story in front of you had space to breathe. You were reminded again of Malia’s vague comments on Hale family money. 

Tearing your eyes from the house you looked over at Derek and the tense set of his jaw. You gave his side a gentle nudge with your elbow and took the bottle of wine you’d brought as a gift from his death grip. “Hey,” you said, voice low, “I thought I already told you everything would be fine.”

He watched you for a long moment. “Where exactly do you get all this unbridled confidence from?”

You smiled. Adjusting your hold on the wine bottle you looped your arm with his and started walking toward the green door. “Sometimes you just gotta fake it till you make it.” 

The look he was giving you had the potential to throw you off your game if you weren’t careful. You winked at him and rang the doorbell. 

The moment stretched out as you waited for the door to open. You wouldn’t tell Derek, he was a ball of tension already, but you had some worries. You weren’t a psychopath- a lot could go wrong and any sane person would be concerned, but you meant what you’d said. Confidence, real or imagined, did wonders. 

You had been expecting his mom or dad, but it was Cora who opened the door. 

Cora had visited Beacon Hills sometime during the summer and you had met when she’d arrived at a movie night. You couldn’t say you knew each other well, but she’d appreciated your knack for driving Stiles nuts. 

Rather than welcome you both in she leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Derek. The oversized zip-up she wore over a sports bra was very in keeping with what you knew of her. 

“Your girlfriend is Y/N?” She asked. It was difficult to say if she was skeptical or just giving Derek a hard time.

Derek sighed hard. “Clearly.” 

Cora narrowed her eyes, seconds ticking by, then shrugged. “That tracks. Come on in.” Derek glared holes into her back as she led the way while you tried not to laugh. 

“Dad!” She shouted through the house. “Derek’s here! And he actually brought someone.” 

You felt Derek huff beside you. “No, Cora, don’t worry. I didn’t want an actual greeting or anything. Just suspicion.” 

She grinned at him over her shoulder, ignoring his sarcasm. “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You couldn’t help but snort at Derek’s unimpressed look. Sibling irritation had relaxed him though and he moved your hand from his arm to hold in his own (warm, calloused, distracting) as you followed Cora into what you presumed was the kitchen. 

There, cutting carrots at the kitchen island, was Alexander Hale. Derek had shown you pictures of his parents during your prep meetings, but you could have picked his dad out of a lineup without any help. 

It was like looking into the future. His dad’s hair had begun greying on the sides of his head and he wore black-rimmed glasses, but you could picture Derek in a couple of decades looking just like him. Derek was broader, perhaps, but you had to wonder if he’d inherited anything from his mother. 

Dr. Hale (you were sure to remind yourself of his doctoral degree in Gender Studies) smiled wide at the sight of you both. He set his knife down and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before rounding the island to embrace his son. “Derek! Happy Thanksgiving. How was traffic? Not too bad I hope. And this must be the girlfriend Laura told us about.”

He didn’t give Derek a chance to answer before focusing on you. 

“Y/N.” You said, holding a hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hale.”

His handshake was warm and firm, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Oh, just Al is fine. None of the doctor stuff. I’m glad Derek brought you along. He can be so private sometimes. Gets it from his mother.”

Derek groaned. “Dad. Come on.”

Al was unperturbed. “The turkey is already in the oven.” He said to you. “I’m just working on some stuffing and a few things to pick at-” He stopped himself short. “Wait. Do you like turkey? We didn’t make a ham. But, we can have Laura pick something up on her way in.”

Before you could reassure him that you loved turkey Cora spoke up. 

She’d moved to lean on the counter by the cutting board and held a baby carrot in her hand. “Do you know if she even eats meat?” She took a loud bite of the carrot, reveling in her dad’s reaction. 

Al looked horrified. “Oh my god, I didn’t ask if you were vegan or vegetarian.” You could see him trying to think back to everything he was cooking for the night. 

“I eat meat.” You were quick to assure. “And I love turkey. I promise. I love Thanksgiving food.”

Though he sighed in relief the look of worry hadn’t faded from his face. “Are you sure? We can set something up.”

You could see Derek shake his head as he moved to take the wine bottle from you. “Cora’s just messing with you, dad. I would have told you if she was a vegetarian.” 

Satisfied Al returned to his post as the cutting board. “Well, just let us know if you don’t like something, alright.” 

“Don’t worry. I’m not shy about speaking my mind.” You said. 

Derek nodded his confirmation before crossing the kitchen to retrieve a couple of glasses. “Water?” When you nodded he began filling the glasses, remembering you didn’t like ice in yours. “Where’s mom?” He asked. “Is Laura not in town yet?”

“Your mom is taking a call upstairs,” Al said, focusing on his chopping while Cora continued to eat stray carrots. “Laura is in town, they just arrived, but they checked into a hotel. Said it would be easier for the night.”

You’d never met Derek’s older sister though she’d visited Beacon Hills earlier in the year. You did know she was married to a Noah with a three-year-old girl named Alina and a baby boy on the way. She’d been the one Derek first lied to.

“What about Malia?” His dad asked. “I know she said they were doing a Thanksgiving brunch with Kira’s family before driving out.” 

Derek nodded. “Yeah. They should be here in an hour or two.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “Is Peter coming?”

His dad shook his head. 

You knew Peter was Malia’s biological father and Derek’s maternal uncle and the relationship there was strained on all ends, but Malia had been working on it. A thought struck you, but you’d address it later. 

“Why don’t you go get settled in.” Al said. “You guys are going to be in the room at the end of the hall. Malia and Kira are taking Cora’s room and Cora is sleeping in the living room tonight.” 

Cora scowled. “Just because I’m not dating anyone.” She had been living with her parents while she attended the UCSF School of Medicine for sports medicine. You wouldn’t have loved being kicked out of your room either.

“I know, but it just makes sense, honey. It’s just one night.” 

“I’m bringing a girlfriend next year.” She muttered to herself.

Derek mussed up her hair before gesturing for you to lead the way out of the kitchen. 

Your bags, small as they were, had been left in the car and you watched as he grabbed them both, shaking his head when you offered to carry your own. The sun was high in the sky, but it was still chilly out and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he dug through the car to make sure nothing was left behind. 

“Hey, I have a question.” 

Derek gave you a curious look. “Yeah?”

“Peter is your mother’s brother, right?” 

Derek nodded and something in his expression made you think he already knew where this was going. “You’re wondering why everyone is a Hale?”

“Yes.” 

He smiled. “Dad took mom’s name when they got married. He does lectures all the time on how weird it is that surnames are patrilineal and when the time came for them to get married he said he had to put his money where his mouth was.” He’d clearly explained this multiple times in the past. 

You grinned. “I kind of love your dad. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, try not to get caught in one of his lectures.”

~*~*~*~

The room you’d be sharing for the night was a nice, simple guest room with a full bed and mostly neutral decor. While you peered out the window to see the view Derek stared intently at the bed. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” He said, making you turn. 

“Derek, what are the chances that Cora barges in here tomorrow morning? Or your niece?” 

He winced. 

“Yeah. it would probably look pretty weird if you were sleeping on the floor. I’m a whole grown-up,” you said, “I can share a bed with a man. Unless you don’t want to.”

Derek shook his head but said nothing. 

You moved to look in the mirror hung on the wall and check your hair after the drive. You could see Derek watching you in the mirror. 

“Does anything ever bother you?” He asked, sitting on the bed. 

You furrowed your brow. “Lots of things bother me. Sharing a bed with you isn’t one of them.” You could just make out the pink tingeing his ears in the reflection. “And having to spend Thanksgiving with a family that seems pretty cool also doesn’t bother me.”

Derek watched you a moment longer. “Have I said thank you yet?” 

“You might have. But it’s not a big deal. I’m having fun.” You turned to lean against the vanity and watch him. “It’s not particularly difficult to pretend to be your girlfriend.” 

You expected him to blush at least a little, but he just watched you. You turned and gestured for him to follow you. “Come on. I still have to meet your mom.”

It was easy to chalk any nerves up to meeting Derek’s mom. Talia Hale was highly regarded and it wasn’t difficult to see why. As far as you knew she’d left a long career as a successful business attorney to pursue her original dream of working for the ACLU, hence the move to San Francisco. She remained a figure in a number of charities and organizations in Beacon Hills even from a distance and Derek always seemed in awe when he spoke of her. 

So, the idea of her was intimidating. 

Everyone wanted to be liked. Of course you wanted your fake boyfriend’s parents to like you. 

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part IV

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part III

Summary: After getting wasted last night, you meet up with Barry and he offered you some advices. Based 1x03

Warnings: None. Just a tad angsty.

***

Extremely groggy, currently having a mind-splitting headache and has the worst case of hungover, it was a miracle that you woke up early— well, thanks to your siren-like alarm. You hate yourself for drinking like a viking and like your liver regenerates like Barry.

Last night was a blur— or at least the part you got home. You blacked out. You have absolutely zero recollection of how you ended up in your bed, in your pyjamas, and your car parked the wrong way. You figured you drank and drove, you might have someone to do with that one. You are so lucky no one caught or Joe would've made sure you won't see the light of day. But everything prior that was still very much intact in your mind. Everything.

You were supposed to meet up with Barry for breakfast today at Jitters. You were headed there anyway for some coffee. It's not far from your apartment, which was nice, because you don't trust yourself with driving hungover as much as driving drunk.

When you arrived at Jitters, Barry was already there. He waved as his eyes caught you entering. You smiled in return. You went to him, put your bag on the floor and took a seat on the stool. Cups of coffee were on the table, it seemed like Barry had already gone through half of his coffee.

"I already ordered for you," he said. "And I got you this ham and cheese sandwich from that bodega." He placed a brown paper bag in front of you.

"Thanks," you mumbled, taking a sip of the coffee. You rummaged through the bag, and took the foil-covered sandwich. It was still warm. Your favorite bodega was all the way downtown. It's a trip to get those treats, which is why you almost never get them. Thank God for Barry and his super speed.

You quickly removed the foil and took a large bite. You groaned happily as you chew. Coffee and greasy sandwich; it was heavenly and bitter. It hits the right spots, it feels as though a part of your soul re-entered your body.

Thank God for Barry and him knowing you so well.

Barry chuckled amusedly at your reaction. "Had some fun last night?" He teased, pointing to your sunglasses covering your eyes.

In your defense, it was very bright outside today.

You rolled your eyes, not that he can see through the lens— or can he? You didn't know. "Just had a few drinks with Iris," you said.

He nodded, half convinced, took a sip of his coffee. "Once upon a time I was falling in love but now I'm falling apart," he sang in a low voice, but enough for your heightened hearing to hear.

Your head quickly jerked up to him, eyes mortified. "How did you know that?" You whispered. Your thoughts ran wildly. Maybe someone took a video of you drunk as hell, and maybe you're trending on all social media platforms or maybe you became a meme.

He shrugged, pursing his lips. "I don't know, you belted those notes in the streets last night,"

Perplexed, you look at him, and it's like he was waiting for something to click while smirking devilishly. Then it dawned on you. All of those questions you asked earlier were answered. He took you home. Which makes sense why he got these sandwiches for you.

"Oh my God," you groaned, burying your face in your hands, cheeks turned into a dark shade of red. Though, you still remember nothing.

Barry laughed hysterically. He loved teasing you so hard.

"Yeah. You called me last night, begging me to pick you up, because you're too drunk to drive," he said as his laughing ceased. "You both refused to enter the car. You started screaming, giggling like 5-year olds. I was lucky the street was dead."

Oh poor Barry. You can imagine, he must be so embarrassed.

It was a relief that even if you're drunk, you didn't risk driving. Maybe you're not as hopeless as you think you are.

Still, you dwelled in your embarrassment.

"So, who is it?" He asked. You look up to him again, eyebrows furrowed with once again cluelessness and confusion. You had a hunch what he was talking about, but it's always safe to pretend you don't know. It can't hurt them. He looked at you incredulously. "Come on, Y/N. You were talking the whole car ride. About some guy, and how things are so complicated and you were tired of it. I've never seen you like that before—"

"—clearly haven't seen me in a frat party before," you snickered, taking off your glasses.

"I'm serious. What is that about?" He insisted firmly, anticipation and a squint of frustration was evident in his face.

You grimaced, mentally hissing at yourself. You couldn't just zip your mouth and reveal your secret. Might as well announce it.

You messed up. You can lie, but what's the point? He's Barry. If he's anything, that's persistent. He tried breaking in Iron Heights.

"I'm dating someone," you confessed.

Barry blinked, clearly caught off guard with your confession. He expected it, but what surprised him is that you hid it from him. He stuttered for a while, before he was able to form a coherent sentence. "Oh. Okay. What happened?"

You sighed, looking down at the table. You took another bit of your sandwich, taking your time to chew. Contemplating whether to elaborate. It's pretty heavy to unload, you didn't expect telling your brother you're dating someone so secretly. And for sure he won't be able to take it all at once. You have to be vague.

"He—he doesn't want anyone to know we're dating, because there are certain consequences that come with it," you explained. It felt foreign to talk about your love life. For the past 6 months, you kept it all to yourself. The bad, the good. You bottled it up inside.

He raised an eyebrow, concern crossed his features. "And you're comfortable with this?"

"At first. But then it felt restricted and suffocating," you explained.

"Did you talk to him about this?"

You nodded. "Yes. He wasn't very convinced. I honestly don't know what to do," you huffed, slumping your shoulder.

It ain't rocket science to figure how deeply i troubled you. It breaks his heart that his little sister is going through some stuff, and she was going through it alone.

"Talk some more. Be honest of what you're really feeling," you thought was pretty rich and ironic coming from him. "You're part of this relationship as much as he is. You have a say in this, and if you don't feel like this isn't working out for you, then maybe you shouldn't be in it at all."

His words hit you like a brick— thousands of bricks hitting you all at once, if you're being accurate. It hurts, because it was right. It hurts, because it deeply matters. You felt the sting in your heart, your jaw tightened. You don't want to think about it, but he's got a point.

Barry was worried with your lack of response, as you think deeply in the distance. "I'm not saying break up with him, okay? I'm just saying this is something you should really talk about and consider. You can't bottle it all up." He doesn't want to screw up his sister's love life or push her to do something that might hurt her, but not exactly disregarding the advice he made.

When he's not being a total dork, he's pretty wise.

You pressed your lips is a hard line, taking it all in. "I know," you murmured.

You weren't able to say anything after that. So did he. It was some heavy weight of emotional stuff to unload to your brother. Your hungover was gone, and who knew these kinds of talks are better than coffee and grease.

Barry decided to break the silence. "This explains so much," he laughed and so did you. You weren't pretty subtle. "Do I know him?" He quirked an eyebrow.

You hesitated, but it's not like Wells' is the first that will come to his mind. Gradually, you nodded. "Yes. But I'm not gonna say who!"

"He isn't someone like Oliver Queen, right?" He half-joked, but deep inside he meant it.

You almost spat your drink. "No!"

Barry went to the precinct, and you headed to S.T.A.R Labs.

You tried to act as normal as possible, even though what Barry said deeply affected you. Thank God Caitlin arrived before you, so you wouldn't have to deal with interactions with him.

You couldn't still believe how much emotion you felt last night; how intense it is. You minded it, but you didn't think you would actually get drunk about it. You have no idea how to deal with it, and if it's the right time to deal with it. You can't go on and help your brother save the city, while your mind is filled with thoughts about him.

Right now, you choose the city.

As soon as Cisco arrived, which wasn't very long, you worked on finishing the pipeline.

It wasn't easy though, you worked on the same thing, be in the same room, act like you didn't get hammered because of him last night. Every time you spare him a glance, and he would look back and he would smile, having no idea what you were going through, it would break your heart just a little bit more. Each minute that you let your feelings be unknown, Barry's words sink into you furthermore. But it occurred to you that the reasons why it was hard were also the reasons why you should keep it together.

The prison was done before lunch. He and Cisco worked over-overtime last night, so there wasn't really much to do, but set it up. It came up together well; durable, functional. The cells slightly look like pods, and given Francisco Ramon's obsession with Star Wars, it makes sense. The test run will happen when 'The Mist' is captured, since Barry doesn't want to participate. But rest assured, you and Cisco worked on it very hard to make sure it works.

Now with the biggest task done, the only thing left to do is go through a bunch of workload and have lunch.

"Hey, Caitlin and I are gonna grab lunch, wanna come?" Cisco asked, putting his coat on. "It's that new place that serves amazing cheap steaks and burgers,"

You realized that the place he was talking about was the very restaurant that you told Wells.

You shook your head. "No, you guys go. I already ordered some food." You smiled, declining.

"Okay, your lost. That place is amazing," he elaborated, clearly pleased with the place. It's Cisco, though. And food.

You snorted, turning your eyes back to the computer. "As I heard," you murmured underneath your breath with a tinge of bitterness, as Cisco strided out of the cortex.

On the bright side, someone from this place already went there. But much to your dismay, it wasn't you.

Your phone dinged. You picked it up to check, and it's what you have been waiting for. The delivery guy is right outside the lab. You quickly headed down to pick it up. You gave the delivery guy some tip, before excitedly went back inside.

You were salivating when the intoxicating smell of Chinese food filled your nostrils.

When you got up, Wells was there. He took a waft of the take-out foods. "Is that from Mann-Lee?" His eyes lit up in recognition. He was the one who introduced you to the restaurant. He said it's the only Chinese place he likes, because it tasted like the food he had in Shanghai. Of course, he's been to China.

You nodded, placing it on the desk. You quickly took out every box of food in the bag, and dug into your chow mein happily and satisfied, not bothering to take a seat.

"Did you order some for me?" He asked.

Unable to speak due to your mouth being filled with noodles and potstickers, you nodded. "It's in the box," he chuckled at your attempt to speak.

He helped himself and rummaged inside the bag's remaining contents. Upon opening one, his face fell, seemingly disappointed. He opened another box only to be disappointed again. He was looking for something specific. Your wonder started to grow, watching him.

He turned to you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Did you order some of their Beef Broccoli?"

"No. Did you want that?" You inquired.

"Yeah." He forced a half-smile, waving his fingers dismissively. "It's okay. I'm fine with Kung Pao Chicken; it's decent enough,"

For some reason, your mood soured. Decent in Harrison Wells' vocabulary means it's not good enough; he doesn't hate it, but he doesn't love either. You felt bad that you didn't know what he actually likes, but in your defense, he never says, and he lets you eat it. He never complained.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't like it," you said. You didn't want to watch him suffer eating something he doesn't like while you enjoy your own lunch.

"No, it's fine," he assured you.

"No, Harry. I mean it— you don't have to eat it," you insisted with more vigor in your tone.

He ignored you, and took a bite of the chicken. You scoffed in disbelief, frustration fueled in your chest. You want to stop him as he continues eating, but you decided against it. It's too petty to get angry about, not worth it.

You eat your lunch in peace, every time you turn to Wells, he would wince every now and then when he takes a bite. You don't know what about Kung Pao Chicken he doesn't like, but he doesn't just like it. You tried to let him go through it, but you're starting to get annoyed. And of course, you couldn't stop yourself.

"Okay, stop," you suddenly spoke, putting your food aside. "You don't have to eat, you don't like it." You tried to grab the food out of his grasp, but he swerved swiftly.

"Y/N, I said it's fine!" Wells said, displeased at your attempt to take his food away.

"It's not! You don't look fine— you don't like it!" Your voice rose a little.

He exhaled audibly. "It's just food,"

"I know it's just Kung Pao Chicken that I ordered that you don't like, so just admit it and stop eating!" You spat.

He scoffed in disbelief. "What is wrong with you? I am eating it!"

"But that's the point!" You snapped loudly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do— you never do!"

Realizing what you've said, you shut your eyes. Your hands flew to each side of your head, fingers weaved through your hair, tugging on them. You needed to calm down and take breath, and be rational. The last you want to do is do something reckless and irrational.

"Is there something wrong?" He questioned firmly.

You mentally grimaced at the question. It was a stupid question; it's basically screaming at his face. "Nothing," you muttered.

Of course he didn't buy it. You weren't exactly selling it well. Or at all.

"It's something. You're enraged over food," You don't honestly know how he can keep his tone down, but it was evident he was agitated. You hate it so much right now.

You sighed wearily, refusing to face him. Afraid of what might happen if you do.

"Let it go, Wells," you pleaded through your gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

"No. I'm not gonna stop until this is settled. Tell me, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

He continued on, pushing you to speak. The idea of unloading all of your hidden burdens entered your mind, but you don't have the emotional capacity to face the fact that this is taking a toll on you. You tried to hold your ground, but his voice overwhelmed you.

You pushed your chair back, getting on your feet and facing him.

"Everything is wrong, Harrison!" You shouted, your voice boomed inside. Wells almost flinched. "Everything is wrong with us!"

Wells shook his head, baffled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't take this any longer,"

"Can't take what?"

"This—" you gestured to you and him. "—This arrangement we made!"

Wells sighed, distressed, catching on what you were saying. "I thought you were okay with this,"

You chewed on your bottom lip, as you folded your arms across your chest. When you spoke, your voice dropped into a whisper; you couldn't control it. "I thought so too. Then last night, Iris vented out to me." You paused. You struggled to keep it together, now pressing your tightly folded arms on your chest. You continued. "They were having problems, same as us. I gave her some insights about everything, and then I realized that's how I feel!"

The underlying problem he thought he got handled was more intense than he thought. Time was running, you couldn't pick more of an impeccable timing, and the team could waltz in anytime while you were having this fight. He couldn't afford anyone finding out about it.

He took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, this is not the time for this," he said.

You snorted, your anger erupted in your veins. You were tired of avoiding the elephant in the room.

"When is the perfect time? When it's too late? When we break up?" You didn't want to say it, but it was at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be asked ever since you realized it.

His expression hardened. You already see the gears working. "Y/N, don't go there," he murmured, not glancing up to you.

"Why?" Your voice cracked into an almost sob. That was it. The tears found their way and pool at the rim of your eyes. "I tried to make myself believe that I understand, but I couldn't help but think that maybe you're scared that if things don't work out you won't have to deal with other people, thinking that you slept with a 24-year old girl."

Soon, every emotion you were feeling last night came rushing back to you; the confusion, the anger, the love and the pain— towards him and yourself. It seeped, not only to your heart, but through your very bones and weary soul. All too soon it became overwhelming, your chest tightening, your stomach knotting, struggling to keep it at bay.

Thinking it was one thing, but saying was a whole new realm of pain you didn't know you existed, let alone capable of feeling.

He glanced up to you, eyes staring into you meaningfully. "I would never think that. I made so many enemies, Y/N. Before and after the accelerator exploded. The last thing those people want is to see me happy and that puts you in danger," he reasoned.

You tried to steady your shaky voice. "I know. But your reasons and your excuses, they won't matter in the long run. The press, Joe, our friends, my brother— everything they say won't matter to me, because they're not the ones who loves you like I do, and they're not the one in a relationship with you." You told him, staring back, before turning away, as they threatened to fall.

You inhaled sharply. "I love you, Harrison Wells. And no matter what they say about us or you or me, I'll love you. Damn, you put my brother in a 9-month coma, but I loved you nonetheless!" You pointed your index finger at him in the air.

He let you speak, taking it all, as waiting for you to finish, let it all out and explain his side. And then, you'll be swept off your feet again, as if all of your feelings and thoughts didn't exist in your mind before. Barry was right. You couldn't believe you were getting to this point, but he was right.

"But I don't wanna hide anymore. I want to do more. Be free. If you don't want anyone to know that this relationship is happening, then maybe we shouldn't happen at all," You stated.

You both were silent, the tension was thick and you could cut a knife through it. Suddenly you couldn't move, like all of your energy was drained from your body.

You turned away before you could see his reaction. The pain was unbearable; it's best if you don't see it.

Mustering all the courage and strength you have left and your body, you took a step to leave the room. He tried to stop you by reaching out, but you recoiled, before his fingertips graze your skin.

"Don't,"

You strided out of the cortex, your shoulder straightened, held up high to hold your tears, but every step you take, the control you have dissipates. Slowly, your tears overflowed. You wiped the tears, though it didn't make any difference, your tears fell and fell, soaking your neck. Soon, all hell broke loose, sobs racked your body, your hands flew to your mouth to muffle your voice.

Wells was left with nothing, but the sound of your footsteps received, your muffled sob through the walls; thousands thoughts and emotions, and the weight of your words.

***

My parents are fighting. This one made me genuinely sad. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you share this and give it some love. Thanks!

Part V

[soup-fish]

Hiya I meant to send you asks like forever ago but I'm bad so I didn't do that so here they are now they're from this ask prompt thing you reblogged

Feel free to answer these about any of your OCs cause I don't really remember any except rabbit and Knight so~

1, 10, 25, 29, 33, 37, 46, 50, 61, 63, 78, 80, sorry there's so many you don't have to answer them all, I am just cursed with insatiable curiosity only balanced out by my fear of asking too many questions and being annoying—

Hi!!! You’re not bad!! You’re one of the coolest aliens ever!!!! 

I am absolutely answering them all with multiple OCs because I will take every opportunity I get to talk about them. 

Putting it under a cut because it is LONG and I don't wanna bother.

1. What is their gender?

The Knight: (she/her)

Rabbit: agender but they use (they/them) pronouns

The Apprentice: (he/him)

Dijon: (he/him)

Julienne: (she/her) (they/them)

Monty: (he/him) (they/them)

Diana: (she/her)

Captain Pumpernickel: (he/him)

William: (he/him)

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

The Knight: Swordfighting, Dancing, pottery

Rabbit: Parlor magic, puppetry, Acting

The Apprentice: collecting, Dunescotch [the world's rough equivalent of chess], chemistry

Dijon: cooking, writing, gardening

Julienne: biking, photography, bird watching

Monty: people watching, bingo, garage sales

Diana: fencing, archery, calligraphy

Captain Pumpernickel: Singing, acting, swordfighting

William: whittling, philosophy, accordion

25. What is their biggest flaw?

The Knight: her naivete 

Rabbit: Their reluctance to be vulnerable

The Apprentice: His aversion to change and the unknown

Dijon: his self-pitying nature

Julienne: Her self-centeredness

Monty: his...not quite human-ness

Diana: She’s uptight

Captain Pumpernickel: hooboy where do I start? For one, his complete and utter dismissal of everything that doesn’t contribut to ADVENTURE

William: his lack of ambition

29. How would they describe their own personality?

The Knight: “Hmmm. I try to be as nice as possible and I’ve been told I’m rhapsodic! I don’t think my singing’s that good but it’s a sweet compliment!” 

Rabbit: “Witty. Yes. Sarcastic? Yes. The people’s demon? In more ways than one~ Even hell can’t handle me.” 

The Apprentice: “Simple, studious, and an enjoyer of quiet studying. I tend to be rather straight-forward in my methodology.”

Dijon: “God do I even have a personality? What am I besides a vaguely human shaped pile of mistakes and disappointments?” 

Julienne: “A fun loving fun person!” 

Monty: “Just your average Earth person! Nothing else to see!” 

Diana: “Calm, cool, collected, the perfect dignitary”

Captain Pumpernickel: “AN ADVENTURER! And a lover! Of your mother! Bring out the good ale my good fellows! Your captain has won another battle of the wits!”

William: “Personality? Never heard of it. Wouldn’t even begin to know what the word means. I know no such words such as sarcastic, laid-back, carefree. Nooooo.”

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

The Knight: Being ignored and unheard. She’d probably get really frustrated and maybe cry a little as a result. If it really got to her, she’d need help being pulled out of a dark place. 

Rabbit: Abandonment. Their general reaction to it is to put on a veneer of not caring and close off from the outside world more, even going so far as to act annoying and unlikable so that people leave before getting close. 

The Apprentice: Not knowing. Or, by extension, not being able to learn. He’d probably lash out in anger and storm off. 

Dijon: Being an unredeemable person. He faces it every day and he deals with it by being melodramatic in all of his writings and wallowing in misery. AKA, not dealing with it. 

Julienne: People being genuine. They’d probably get really uncomfortable and try to excuse themselves from the conversation or make jokes to redirect the conversation. 

Monty: The republic finding him hiding out on Earth. He’d fight or do anything possible out of desperation. 

Diana: Being a disappointment 

Captain Pumpernickel: Not being able to bang your mom not having adventures with his crew. He'd probably be reduced to a shell of his former self.

William: Not being able to talk his way out of a situation. 

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

The Knight: Pretty easy but she means it when she says it. She's just full of love tbh.

Rabbit: It's really hard for them to say "I love you". Really really hard. Especially at the start of their arc, they would never say it, however much they mean it.

The Apprentice: It's hard for him to say, simply because it's not quantifiable enough. How does one properly explain how much they love someone? He prefers showing love through actions and more direct compliments.

Dijon: It's not easy for him to say, but he says it without meaning it, both knowingly and unknowingly.

Julienne: She doesn't say it often, but she says it to the people she cares about occasionally. She prefers to say it through time spent and physical touch though.

Monty: The Dude Loves Everything. But they also barely understand the meaning of the word so...

Diana: She doesn't say it almost at all, but prefers to use acts of service and gift giving.

Captain Pumpernickel: He never says "I love you" because he usually doesn't really mean it. He'll use some other compliment or compound of it.

William: He doesn't throw it around easily, so when he says it, it has so much more weight behind it.

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

The Knight: She expresses her emotions a lot and very easily, but she has a hard time hiding them.

Rabbit: They think they're sly at hiding their emotions, but they let micro-expressions slip constantly. If anyone decided to notice, one would

The Apprentice: He's a blank sheet baybee. What is he thinking? Unless it's frustration or anger, you'll never know.

Dijon: He's just kinda sad all the time. He's miserable and everyone notices.

Julienne: She allows some emotions to come through. It's a bit of a calculated effort.

Monty: All of his emotions come through all the time and he doesn't mind.

Diana: Well, she hides her sadness and happiness, but allows her frustration and such to shine through.

Captain Pumpernickel: He expresses emotions very openly and very loudly. He is a dramatic ham of a captain.

William: He keeps a near perpetual smile that occasionally wavers when things go wrong. He doesn't like to open up emotionally.

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing?

The Knight: "fun and comfy!" Light armor with room for mobility but colorful

Rabbit: "...sexy" literally naked except a cloak.

The Apprentice: "practical and sensible" like a fucking nerd

Dijon: "presentable" the best time to wear a sweater, is all the time

Julienne: "quirky" quirky.

Monty: "human clothing for humans! :D" weird mixture of 1800s stuff and modern day stuff. Weird guy.

Diana: "regular??? Clothes???" Fancy ballgown at first then swashbuckling but still expensive.

Captain Pumpernickel: "EXTRAVAGANT AND ASTOUNDING" sexy hobo pirate.

William: "only the highest tier clothing/s" ...rags. doesn't care enough.

61. Which season is their favorite season?

The Knight: Spring

Rabbit: Autumn, harvest festivals and such are good for demons.

The Apprentice: Winter, you have excuses to stay inside and work. Plus the vibe is nice when it's harsh outside and cozy inside

Dijon: Summer, fewer holidays and he's not really cold resistant.

Julienne: Summer. They like the general vibe and popsicles and shorts and sunglasses and such.

Monty: Winter, they love the holidays.

Diana: Summer, she likes the heat.

Captain Pumpernickel: Autumn! He just thinks the weather and vibe are RIPE FOR ADVENTURE!

William: Winter! He like staying inside and the cold.

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile?

The Knight: her partner! Or a silly joke! Or a delicious snack! Or friendship!

Rabbit: schadenfreude

The Apprentice: order and productivity

Dijon: his favorite childhood book

Julienne: her pet rats! Or pet frog!

Monty: A human thing like paperclips

Diana: this one is a hard one. Succeeding at any of her hobbies.

Captain Pumpernickel: ADVENTURE. and friends

William: seeing Diana smile and be free.

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend?

The Knight: The prince!

Rabbit: the Knight

The Apprentice: books

Dijon: julienne

Julienne: no one. Monty is close.

Monty: ALL HUMANS ARE BEST! AND FRIENDS!!

Diana: no one [William eventually]

Captain Pumpernickel: The sea. And his first mate. And his quartermaster.

William: no one [Diana eventually]

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

The Knight: Morning person

Rabbit: Night Owl

The Apprentice: Morning Person

Dijon: Night Owl

Julienne: Morning Person

Monty: Morning Person

Diana: Morning Person

Captain Pumpernickel: Morning Person

William: Night Owl

[notarelationship]

Anderson’s Ghosts 24/24

Klaine Advent: Yearn

And here it is!  The last of my Klaine Advent 2019 chapters. Just in time to start thinking about 2020!

Thank you everyone for reading. I’ll be posing the last few chapters on AO3 as the final chapter there, link to the beginning is here

If you have missed any earlier entries they can be found at Anderson’s Ghosts, or each individual chapter:  Achievement, Beer, Creed, Date, Emergency, Fist, Ground, Hiccup, Interrupt, Joy, Kinship, Lecture, Monument, Nest, Overwhelm, Part, Quarrel, Reasonable, Speed, Treat, User, Verdict, Worry

--

Lunch was a bit awkward. Blaine barely knew how to behave with his own family, let alone someone else's, but when Kurt invited him he couldn’t say no. 

“Is your family still in Lima, Blaine?” Carol asked, once they were all settled around the dining table. 

Blaine cleared his throat. “Well, my brother is here, but our mother moved to Florida years ago, and she doesn’t come back to Ohio.” He didn’t add that he hadn’t actually seen her in years.

“You don’t see them for the holidays?”

Blaine hadn’t spent holidays with his family in years, but he was sure if he said that in front of this crowd there would be a mixture of sympathy, pity, and for those who knew him better, maybe a bit of private scorn. He didn’t deserve anything but the scorn.

“Nah, Blaine usually works on Christmas,” Sam answered for him.

“You work on Christmas?” Kurt asked, while helping himself to some delicious looking potato casserole. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

Blaine winced. “It’s not.” He paused as Sam handed him a plate of ham, and he took a slice and passed it on. “But I think those days are over. I’m headed over to my brother’s later tonight, and I’m actually leaving for New York in the morning.”

“Oh really? I live in New York,” Kurt said. “What are you going to do there?”

Blaine laughed quietly. “I’m not entirely sure yet.” 

From there conversation spread around the table, and Blaine could sit quietly and just soak it in. Watching Kurt, it was hard not to yearn for the life he never had, but Blaine didn’t want to mope about it. He had already changed. He may never have an opportunity again to really get to know Kurt, but he was on the road to setting things right, and he could settle for that for now.

After lunch was over Blaine followed Sam and Mercedes to the family room, where the kids went right back to playing with their Christmas gifts. Burt joined them while Carol and Kurt cleared the table.

“Anderson,” Burt said, once he was sitting comfortably in what was obviously his favorite chair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Blaine answered, sitting on the couch, but near enough to Burt for them to have a quiet conversation. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. That was okay. Blaine wanted to talk. 

Burt shrugged. “Two weeks ago I was sure you were going to take my business. Your reputation is not unknown to me, Anderson. I knew if you wanted the shop I wouldn't be able to stop you.”

Blaine took a centering breath. The further away he got from the night before, the more everything that had happened had felt like a dream. It may even have been a dream. But it didn’t matter. He was done with that life. “I didn’t want that any more.”

“What? The money? The business?” 

Blaine shook his head, not sure how much to share. But there was something about Burt that made it easier. “It wasn’t my life. I want my life, and I think - I hope - I’m still young enough to have it.”

Burt considered him a while, studying Blaine. To his credit (Blaine hoped) he managed to hold Burt Hummel’s curious gaze. “Well,” Burt said with a chuckle. “You’re certainly young enough to do anything you want. And since I suspect money isn’t going to be a concern, I hope you choose what you want wisely.”

“Thank you,” Blaine said. “I hope I do as well. Do you mind - can I ask you a question?”  When Burt nodded, Blaine continued. “Are you feeling better?” 

Burt grunted, but not in an unkind way. “I am feeling better, thank you.” Kurt appeared then, standing next to Burt’s chair. 

“Yes but you still have a lot of recovering to do,” Kurt said. 

Burt frowned. Ignoring Kurt, he spoke directly to Blaine, “Apparently I still have a lot of recovering to do.” He thumbed over his shoulder at Kurt.

“Yes, and I’m going to be here for a while making sure you do just that,” Kurt answered anyway. Blaine smiled, watching their banter. He remembered back to when they were in school together, that Kurt had always said he’d had a great dad. Blaine excused himself as they continued to argue playfully over Burt’s condition, and found himself standing in front of the Christmas tree. 

Every year when he was little, Blaine wanted to decorate the Christmas tree, but his parents had other ideas. His father always wanted a more utilitarian tree, few decorations, all the same color. His one allowance he gave Blaine’s mother was that she could pick the color, so every year the tree was decorated a different color. Silver one year, red the next, green the next, every ornament precisely placed for the perfect magazine photo holiday spread. 

But the Hummel’s tree was covered in a jumble of mis-matched, obviously well loved ornaments of all shapes, sizes, and types. There were vintage glass bulbs, tiny wooden Santa heads, and homemade felt circles that looked like something Blaine had a vague memory of making himself in kindergarten. There was a palm sized Millennium Falcon that blinked, a glass ball with the Ohio State University logo on it, and green construction paper trees shedding glitter all over. Blaine smiled as he looked at them all, taking in every ornament and imagining its history. 

He was laughing at a green glass pickle when he saw it. A palm sized nest with two yellow canaries perched on either side. Three small, aqua, realistic looking canary eggs settled in the center of the nest. Blaine swallowed. It couldn’t be possible. It was identical to the ornament on the tree at the hospital. The one the mysterious little girl led him to last night.

“It’s a mess, I know.” Kurt appeared next to him, and Blaine startled.

“No, it’s beautiful,” Blaine said, staring at the ornament. He looked at Kurt. His mouth was parted as if he was going to say something else, but Blaine had to know. He pointed to the nest. “Where is this from?” 

“Oh, my gosh,” Kurt said. “It was my mother’s. I think she had it from when she was a little girl. I’m always surprised when it comes out of the box and it’s still in one piece.”

Blaine wanted to shout or scream or anything, it was too much. Of course it was possible that there could be two of them, but to Blaine, it was the final confirmation. Whatever he had experienced, It had been real. And it had led him back to Kurt. He was supposed to be here. 

“So I’m going to be in Lima probably for another month,” Kurt was talking, and Blaine had to refocus his attention to get all the words. “But when I’m back in New York, would you like to get together for a drink, or dinner or something? Catch up?” Kurt was smiling at him, inviting him to dinner? 

“Yes,” Blaine managed to say. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

~

the end

[ja-khajay]

2020-2021 Animation Watch(ed)list

I haven’t posted about animation in a while that I remember, and I know a lot of my followers are into it as much as me so I decided to make a list of the animated movies and series I watched on the past year or so, coupled with my short, spoilerless take on them. Enjoy!

Organized by

Things I saw for the first time

Things I rewatched

Under a cut for the sake of your dashboards! PS: I have not added any images yet. If you are interested in knowing more about the visuals of these movies, I might make an old fashion ask-prompted imageset list.

Part One: Things I saw for the first time

The Bear’s Famous Invasion of Sicily

Movie, 2019, Italian/French

9/10, a delightful little movie with amazing visuals. It feels like an animated picture book.

One of those “plot is in the title” media! I had never heard of this before but was heavily recommended it by my family members, who all loved it! It’s a sweet story, nothing groundbreaking but the unique colorful visual style alone makes it worth it.

The Castle of Cagliostro

Movie, 1979, Japanese

10/10. Reminded me of all the books i loved reading as a child

I assume its because it’s so old and the art style and themes are so different that it gets little to no love compared to other Ghibli movies, which is a shame! It’s fun with an endearing cast and as always, great animation and music

Mushishi

Series, 2006, Japanese

10/10 three episodes in I knew it was going to be my favorite series ever

One of the few things I’ve seen I’ll describe as life-changing. It’s absolutely lovely but never toots its own horn about it. Humble, calming, emotional and surprisingly mature. It’s pretty impossible to binge due to how intense the experience is. I just want to walk in the forest now...

FMA: Brotherhood

Series, 2009, Japanese

6/10 Dissapointing adaptation of a classic story

I read the manga for this when I was in middle school and remembered loving it. The animated version does an ok job of presenting the characters and worldbuilding and has some nice action scenes but overall looks really damn cheap and just. Not very good. Seeing I already knew most of the plot I did not have the element of discovery that made me marvel so much reading the original. It’s still a nice series but I really recommend reading it instead.

Code Lyoko (s1+2)

Series, 2003, french

3/10. 1.5 being for the opening song alone

This show sucks ass if I hadn’t been watching this with my bestie I would have dropped it two episodes in. The art style is ugly the stories are always the same and the first season has a (later removed thank fucking god) LITERAL “erase any consequences” button as a plot device in every episode. If you watch it for one thing let it be the nostalgia factor of early 00s Vidya Game Plot

The Legend of Hei

Movie, 2019, Chinese

7/10. Impressive visuals and a poor story

I finally watched this, peer pressured by the load of gifsets on my dashboard! It’s a sweet movie with really impressive animation, sometimes a bit too flashy for my taste (the action sequences go so ham they become not very readable...) but the story was just ok? The setting is barely explained and you are instead bombarded with vague epicspeech about powers and stuff that made me fondly remember Kingdom Hearts lol but that asides it’s a really good time! I need to watch more Chinese movies the few I know are just delightfully off the shits in how they approach action and I love that

Hunter x Hunter

Series, 1999, Japanese

9/10. Superior to the recent one!

I first got introduced to the series via the 2011 one. Comparatively, the 99 series focuses way less on action and way more on the characters, which I love because that fits my personal preferences! Despite mediocre filler episodes and some weird slight pointless plot changes, what it changes from the original manga doesn’t have much of an impact on the characters. The animation quality isn’t always consistent including a huge art style change for an arc (???) but it’s overall pretty nice. The series really shines in the last arc it adapts.

Oban Star-racers

Series, 2006, Japanese/french

9/10 a lovely surprise

This series is completly obscure despite having been created by people famous for their other series (Cowboy Bebop, Code Lyoko that i can name) and it’s a crime! It’s a kids show but without being stupid about it who tells the story of an inter-planetary race. If you liked that one scene in the star wars prequels you know what I mean. It’s got surprisingly nice animation for a TV series, and some truly great character design. The art style is a bit unique in a not for everyone sense, but I didn’t mind it much. It’s also THE most offensively 2000s series i’ve seen in terms of visuals. y2k kids assemble

The Little Prince and the Eight-Headed Dragon

Movie, 1963, japanese

8/10. Classic fairytale format with incredible visuals

Watched this for the art style because I know it inspired Samurai Jack, and it delievered! I dont’ have much to say about this one, it’s a very simply film but it’s sweet. For my pirates out there if you want to find it in good quality with english subtitles it’s VERY hard to find. If you just want to see the looks of it, it’s on Youtube with portugese subs.

We now enter the Gobelins Shorts Zone....!

My Friend Who Glows In The Dark

10/10 makes me cry each time

Pure delight...great animation writing everything. A little short about death and friendship but not in the way you imagine!

Colza

9/10

Visual treat...homely and nice :) not far from a 10 but a 9 because nothing about it is that groundbreaking

Sundown

9/10

If you’ve ever been ten minutes from failing a group project because of a single dude you will REALLY enjoy this. Loved the colors and personality

T’as vendu mes rollers?

10/10

It’s SUCH a sweet little short I loved that one so much

Dix-huit kilomètres trois

10/10

Surprisingly well written dialog. Visuals are great but the humanity of the characters carries this to another level

Un diable dans la poche

9/10

Amazing visuals and the most tense/creepy of Gobelin shorts i’ve ever seen. Chilling

La bestia

8/10

I had some issues with the pacing. Interesting story and visuals choices but I was not fond of the art style

Goodbye Robin

5/10

Confusing but predictable. Both at once??? Yes!

Le retour des vagues

6/10

Cool animation stuff but felt pretty pointless

                                                                ***

Part Two: Things I rewatched

Ruben Brandt: Collector

Movie, 2018, Hungarian

10/10. Underrated as hell

Watched this fully blind for the first time in an animated festival and rewatched it with friends. It’s a crime I never see anyone talking about it given the amount of whining I see about the lack of both adult animation and 2D movies? This film is a unique love letter to art in the form of a weird mix of charming crime story and psychological horror with amazing visuals. I recommend watching it blind and also buying it to show appreciation for how nice it is!!! WATCH THIS MOVIE...

Mononoke

Series, 2007, Japanese

10/10 Visual/storytelling masterpiece in the weird shit departement

If you can stomach intense stuff watch this. The visuals are incredibly unique and beautiful and under the jewel tones and art direction high takes it’s a really cool horror series. My only obstacle to enjoying it the first time I saw it was how dense it is - simply put, it’s so...culturally Japanese it’s not very accessible to me who doesn’t know anything about the culture? Watching it for the second time helped understanding the stories more! 

Corto Maltese in Siberia

Movie, 2002, french

9/10 but really close to ten. A great adaptation!

I’m a huge fan of the original comic so I entered this a biiiittttt suspicious it would suck but it was a really pleasant surprise! It has all the wonder and charm of the original and the animation was surprisingly good for the little budget. If you’re not familiar with the series, it’s a sort of geopolitical action/adventure movie but with it’s own really poetic vibe to it. It’s almost impossible to find online but happens to be fully on YouTube so go ham I guess?

Redline

Movie, 2009, Japanese

10/10 cinema was invented for this, actually

Every review of this movie i’ve seen gives it five stars and starts by talking about how immensly stupid it is. I’m no different. It’s a masterpiece of escalating energy with the depth of a puddle and it fucking rules. It’s free on YouTube too so there really is no excuse to not watch it. Watched it for the first time on a huge cinema screen and despite this my second rewatch on my small laptop was as/even more enjoyable. If you watch this stoned with friends you might travel to another dimension

Spirited Away

Movie, 2001, Japan

10/10 deserves the love it gets

I watched this a single time as a kid and had little memory of it! I mean it’s Ghibli you know it’s going to be good as hell but this one rly shines in how colorful and detailed it is and in it’s world! It made me remember I had a huge crush on the dragonboy as a kid. I’m gay now

Kung-fu Panda (1&2)

Movie, Usa

10/10. KFP fucking rules

Honestly my favorite franchise of the whole disney/dreamworks/pixar hydra. It’s fun as hell, doesn’t skip a single beat and has amazing animation and character designs. If something is a good time I will not care if it’s deep or not and boy I fucking love these movies

Sinbad, Legend of the Seven Seas

Movie, 2003, Usa

5/10 Some great some really bad and overall generic

I tend to hate american cinema and this includes that era of animation I have no nostalgia for. Sinbad is in a weird place because I love adventure stories and the visuals of the movie absolutely deliver but it’s very predictable and TANKED by the addition of the female character, pushed in your face as “look we have woman!!!” despite her writing being misogynistic as hell lol. The evil goddess rules tho. This movie would have been a solid 9 if instead of the girl the two dudes had kissed

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 37)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2

Part 38: here

.

Lewis POV

To Lewis, it feels like blinking. Arthur’s workshop breaks apart, splintering into pieces which disintergate around him. The body snatcher, still clutching his shirt, still grinning, dissolves, flaking away. Darkness swallows up the scene leaving only an impression of poisonous green imprinted into his mind.  

When he opens his eyes, it is too pale moonlight and cool blues, greys and browns. He is standing in a clearing of loose rock and packed dirt. Vivi is standing several feet away surveying a grove of bent-looking trees. The bright blue of her sweater and skirt stands out against the muted background. Relieved, he tries to call out a greeting and maybe ask if she is okay but finds the action hard, bordering on impossible. 

He can’t talk. He can’t move either. 

“Are you sure about this one. It says to keep out.” 

Arthur’s voice, loud if slightly muffled, sounds like it is being filtered through a closed door. Vivi turns and hits him with a wide smile. 

“So have half the other places we’ve visited,” she answers, drawing Lewis’s attention to the numinous ‘keep out’ signs hammed into the ground between them. Where are they? Is what he wants to say. 

“Yeah, and I remember getting chased through a forest by a bunch of machete-wielding, red-cloaked wackos,” he finds himself asking instead in a voice suspiciously close to Arthur’s.   

Vivi walks a little way into the trees, disappearing, and-without his impute- Lewis’s attention drifts to examine the entrance to the foreboding cave looming over him. It is far too dark to see into.  He can feel himself breathe and shuffle with apprehension, though Lewis has never been one to fidget. 

“Sometimes, there’s a good reason for the keep out signs.” 

“I’m sure that was a one-off.” 

Lewis’s view quickly shifts, moving, reacting to the comment. And… he finds himself looking into a very familiar face. His own face. Stunned, Lewis stares at the second Lewis who wears an expression of amusement and concern, mouth curled into a loose smile. It's like looking in an uncanny mirror. 

Oh.  His own hand, other-Lewis's hand, lands on his, Arthur's, shoulder, giving a reaffirming pat. 

This is a memory. He is reliving a memory from Arthur’s point of view. That’s why everything feels disconnected and fuzzy around the edges. When tries to concentrate on areas outside Arthur’s line of focus the scene blurs. 

This is what that body snatcher had promised him… a look into Arthur's memories. 

It feels like he's stuck in some sort of hyper-real, virtual reality without any input controls. His ability to hear is muffled, and his sense of touch is muted, almost non-existent, so there is a distinct disconnection between himself and the scene. Despite this distance, it feels invasive. He’s not sure what he ought to have expected upon agreeing to see Arthur’s memories, but this isn't it. Lewis tries to shake his sudden discomfort and guilt, focusing instead on the other-Lewis as he talks. 

 Memory-Lewis looks pretty relaxed despite the disconcerting environment, commenting “If this has you really worried we can always wait out here while Vivi takes her supernatural readings.”

“No." Arthur sighs, waving away the concern, "It’s fine. Probably best not to let Vivi go spelunking with only Mystery as back up.”

“Just stick behind me. I’m sure this will be just as boring as all the other caves we’ve walked through.” 

There is an air of familiarity to their words, like traversing creepy caves is an everyday occurrence. Confused, Lewis searches his recent memories but comes up with nothing resembling this exchange. 

The group of three, having finished their light banter, start into the cave with Vivi in the lead. They talk like they’ve been planning this trip for ages.   Only, no, that can’t be right because Lewis can’t remember ever visiting a place like this with Arthur and Vivi. The cave, now lit with the flickering firelight of the torch Vivi's uncovered, is distinct enough that he would surely remember it.

How was this one of Arthur's memories if Lewis doesn't remember taking part in it? Is it even real or is this another lie? 

Vivi and the other-memory-Lewis walk down the sloping stone tunnel with Arthur quick to position himself between the two of them, so Lewis has a good view of the back of Vivi’s head. Mystery appears at Vivi’s feet, sniffing around, all dog-like. Lewis vaguely remembers Mystery conversing with the body snatcher before turning into a giant fox and biting his arm.  Details of the confrontation are a little fuzzy, Lewis being too preoccupied with his worry for Arthur at the time. This Mystery is acting normal. Arthur barely spares the dog a glance with his vision glued into Vivi. Occasionally, Arthur’s attention wanders over to the cave's uneven walls, examining shadows which waver in the firelight. 

“Maybe there’ll be an actual ghost this time and not a dude playing dress-up?” The other-Lewis comments from behind him. 

 “One can only hope,” Vivi’s voice echoes about and Arthur shudders at her volume, peering into a particularly dark crack in the wall before adding in a half-whisper, “Ah. Objection. A dude in a sheet is plenty scary, thanks. No need for anything else.”

Thankfully, the other-Lewis seems to be picking up on how nervous Arthur is because he attempts to lighten the mood. “Like weird-scary or scary-scary?”

Arthur glances over his shoulder, retorting, “Both.” The interaction is friendly and familiar, no trace of stiffness.  It is easy to imagine that, had they decided to travel around and follow Vivi’s original plans to investigate supernatural locations, then this is what it would have been like. he ease of the interplay, lacking any form of tension, is one that Lewis misses. He wants it back.

The lighter mood doesn’t last long because Arthur spots something moving along the cave walls. An elongated shadow appears and is gone quicker than Arthur can blink. Lewis’s sense of nostalgic longing turns to apprehension and fear. So caught up in enjoying watching Arthur interact with other-memory-Lewis, he had forgotten what this was. A fake memory or illusion designed to mess with him. 

Barely noticeable is a sinister shadow of a recognisable green colour. Arthur doesn't notice it, attention drifting. Lewis begins to study each stone surface around the small group. That thing is here. In the walls. In the floor. Watching and waiting…

“Let’s split up,” Vivi’s announces when the group arrives at a split in the larger tunnel. 

 “What? No way!” Lewis hears Arthur object to which he mentally agrees. Splitting up is definitely a bad idea… Other-memory-Lewis doesn’t appear to share his mindset, unbothered by the location, nodding along with Vivi like an idiot. 

  “Splitting up is a terrible idea. When has splitting up ever worked well for anyone?” Arthur continues. 

 Yes. Listen to Arthur! Even if this is some twisted illusion, Lewis still doesn’t want to see any of them hurt.  

 “If we split up, we’ll cover more ground and get through the cave system faster.” Vivi points out. 

 They’re not listening. 

 “Just remember to take lots of photos. Here have my spare EMF meter.”

 He watches Vivi and other-Lewis pass equipment between them. Arthur groans aloud, rubbing his eyes in frustrated exasperation. His friend is nervous, but not nervous enough to insist on them all sticking together. Lewis watched silently, worry mounting. 

 “Lewis. You go with Arthur. He’ll need the moral support more than I will.”

 “Hey,” Arthur mutters a half-hearted protest. 

 “I’ll take Mystery down that tunnel. Let’s meet up in, say, an hour and report our findings.”

 Mystery. Vivi’s mention of her not-quite-a-dog has Lewis’s attention drifting around. Surely, the dog would stop them from splitting up. In all the chaos and in between getting stabbed, Lewis is sure Mystery had been on their side. Even if the result had been less than ideal. They should stick together with Mystery so the dog could protect them all from whatever danger was lurking in the walls.

 Alas, Mystery seems oblivious, following Vivi as she walks off towards one of the tunnels.  No. What he wouldn’t give to be able to interact and warn the trio. 

Vivi pauses, glancing back.  “Oh, and if it gets too maze-like come back here, so you don’t get lost,” A familiar playful note colours her voice as she takes a light jab at his poor sense of direction, “And don’t fall down any holes.” 

 “We’ll be fine,” Other-Lewis reassures, amused while  Lewis stews in his worry, annoyed at his counterparts carelessness. Idiot. He’s pulled from his worry by the odd experience of getting caught in a headlock when Arthur is too slow to avoid his other-Lewis.  Lewis knows he’s above average height, but it’s a very different experience seeing and feeling it from Arthur’s perspective.

 Vivi snorts, waving, “See you boys in an hour.” She disappears into the dark, the blue of her shirt fading. 

 “You okay there Arthur?” 

 Arthur glances up at the other-Lewis, batting away his arms. 

 “Yeah. Come on. Let’s go poke around a dark, damp, tunnel some more.”

  Lewis might have found the sarcastic comment amusing if he weren’t so busy freaking out, trying to work out which of them the body snatcher will target first. Silently, Lewis watches, wishing he could smack the other-Lewis over the head. Arthur is obviously nervous, this cave is creepy as hell, and he doesn’t appear to care. 

 The trip down the tunnel becomes an expedition of heightening tension. A rope being slowly pulled to its breaking point. Every time the other-Lewis stumbles on a bit of uneven rock has him holding his non-existent breath. The low flickering light does nothing for the ominous atmosphere, causing Arthur to stumble as well, bumping into Lewis several times. Doom presses down on then. It reminds Lewis of a horror movie, in which he is stuck waiting for something terrible to happen. 

 They come to the end of the tunnel without interruption. A narrow stone walkway juts out ahead, ending in a sharp drop. The light of the torch reflects off the mossy walls and spike-covered ceiling and Arthur eyes the pointy stone formations with apprehension.  This is dangerous, Lewis thinks as Arthur shivers. 

 Other-Lewis confidently walks out ahead, leaving his friend to follow at a more cautious pace. If it were up to him he would be grabbing Arthur and dragging him out of this creepy cave system post hast. Sure, this cavern is impressive, but what about self-preservation?   

 It does not take long for the worse to happen. Distracted by the impressive scenery, Arthur trips and brushes up against the cave wall.  When Lewis sees Arthur’s arm start to turn green, everything rings with an overpowering déjà vu. This time, Mystery doesn’t jump in to immediately rip the infected limb free.

 “Hey, Arthur! Come check out this view!” Other-Lewis calls from where he looks to be attempting to peer down into the steep drop. Arthur lunches forward, arm outstretched and aiming for other-Lewis’s unprotected back. 

 “Lew..!” 

 His name is chocked off, so his counterpart doesn’t have time to turn around and brace himself. Lewis is treated to the somewhat horrifying sight of his own shocked expression as he disappears over the edge of the stone platform. He hears the other-Lewis yell, which echoes in the stone chamber, and then he only hears Arthur’s harder breathing. The sound is no longer muffled but distinct and sharp, taking over the memory. 

 Had…had he just watched himself die??

 The next sequence is also disturbingly familiar. White teeth. Bone snapping. Blood droplets spinning in the air. Unlike his own recent experience, Arthur doesn’t immediately blank out, so Lewis is treated to the phantom sting of pain, filtering through the bond. 

“Ah Shit.” He hears Arthur uncharacteristically say in contrast to the nightmare going on around him. Was that the body snatcher?? The scenery blurs and distorts so he no longer has a clear view.  

This couldn’t be real…This wasn’t a real memory because he definitely wasn’t dead. He'll wake up in the hospital, and Arthur and Vivi would be fine. They would work everything out. 

The cave dissolves, breaking apart and fading. 

....

Lewis blinks and opens his eyes to darkness. Complete and utter black presses in from all angles. The memory…or illusion because there was no way that had been a real memory… is finished. For a moment Lewis can’t think, brain stalling as he tries to process what he’s just witnessed. 

It couldn’t have been a real memory. But, if that where the case, then why show it to him? Too upset him?? Well, it has succeeded. Poor Arthur, he had probably been terrified. At least when Lewis had had his own arm bitten off, he had, sort of, understood that Mystery was trying to save him. Arthur and other-Lewis were taken completely off guard. He can’t image what they might have been thinking. Nothing good. Slowly he clenches his fist, drawing it into his chest, clutching it tightly.  When he looks down, he can see his hands and torso, giving off a faint lilac glow. It’s his own arm, whole and attached. There is solid ground beneath his feet, though, when he looks down, all he sees is the same bank darkness.  Lewis glances around in helplessly. Stuck in this empty void, all he can do is feel frustrated and trapped.  

Where is he?

 His vision blurs, and he blinks again. 

...

 Reopening his eyes, Lewis struggles to focus on an off-white ceiling lit by warm natural light. He is lying horizontally on a soft surface. For one brief moment, Lewis thinks he’s made it back to the real waking world. No more nightmare fake-memory. That overhead definitely looks like a hospital ceiling and he seems to be in a bed. 

 When he tries to move, he is faced with a familiar disconnection and lack of control. He still can’t quite feel his limbs or talk. 

 /Arthur./ 

 The voice seems to pull Arthur fully awake and his vision finally focuses, landing on Mystery who leaps nimbly into a vacant chair positioned adjacent to the bed. A curtain blocks out most of the room to his left and a window lets in fading sunlight on the right.

 Lewis is right about this being a hospital. The space is sparse, tilled with grey and white vinyl, consisting of a single bed, and two empty chairs, one with a blue denim jacket slung over the backrest. Bright red eyes catch the light of the fading sun, causing Arthur to flinch slightly under their unnerving intensity. At first, Lewis thinks there is something wrong with the memory when darkness tugs at its edges but quickly realises that it’s because Arthur is too drowsy to properly focus. 

 /You are awake./ The sentence is said with relief, sounding distorted to Lewis who is again relegated to watching from the sidelines. 

 “You’re talking?” Arthur mutters to himself. 

 /…Yes…/

“Oh…” 

 Mystery is silent and Arthur’s attention drifts away to examine the ceiling, vision continuing to dim. If Mystery waits any longer, Arthur is going to fall right back asleep. Lewis wishes he could ask the dog questions. He has so, so many questions about everything that has happened over the last 24 hours. 

 But no…he can’t as he is once again the silent observer. 

 /You do not remember either…/ Mystery’s voice is softer, reserved, almost as if speaking to himself. 

 “Remember...” Arthur repeats, blinking up at the ceiling so Lewis can’t see Mystery’s expression when he asks gently, /What is the last you remember, Arthur? /

“A cave… I think?”

 /Nothing else?/

 “Vivi and Lewis were there...” Arthur winces. Even with the sound muffled Lewis can hear Arthur’s confusion as he clings to consciousness. Mystery lets out a long breath, shuffling back, jumping from chair to the floor.

 /Go back to sleep Arthur. / Mystery, now out of sight, commands softly. The sound fades and Lewis is left alone in the dark, the memory finished. 

...

Once again, he blinks, and he is back in the empty space …still clutching his arm. Lewis glances around, mind churning. What had been the point of that memory? Maybe, it was supposed to mess with his head, tricking him into thinking he had awakened back in the hospital, giving him relief then snatching it away.   He doesn’t get the chance to properly contemplate the ramifications of the scene because the next memory starts suddenly with a lot of panicked movement and activity. 

....

 Instead of drifting back to consciousness slowly, Arthur snaps awake, lunching himself upright, arm outstretched like he's trying to grab something. Lewis’s perspective spins as he tries to reorientate himself within the new memory. Sunlight is streaming through the window, making the white walls and floor unbearably bright. Arthur apparently thinks so too because his vision distorts as his eyes water. 

 “Whoa! Arthur, you’re awake!” Vivi’s startled voice draws Arthur’s attention. His friend’s gaze snaps to her and he blinks rapidly.

 “Vivi…what…ugh...” Arthur groans, doubling over, gripping his bandaged shoulder. Even Lewis can feel a phantom sting of pain, captured faintly in the memory. It is a harsh reminder that this is his future as Lewis might also be faced with a missing limb upon wakening. Perhaps, foreshadowing Lewis’s future is the purpose of this particular fake-memory. 

“Where am I? What is this?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re in the hospital,” Vivi reassures and Lewis examines the darkened under her eyes and her gaunt features like she hasn’t been eating properly. The room is the same hospital room from the last fake-memory only it is now daytime. There is also a book, lying discarded, face down on the floor. Vivi had probably dropped it upon Arthur's sudden awakening. 

 “Mystery…Mystery was here…he was…ouch….” Arthur’s grip tightens on his shoulder. For several seconds the scene blurs and distorts as Arthur tries to control his breathing, panting heavily. 

"Why does everything hurt?"

“You shouldn’t be moving around so much…” Vivi answers gently, voice soft and careful. Arthur reaches pull at the bandages on his shoulder to which Vivi immediately grasps his…Arthur’s…hand. Lewis momentary struggles to separate the two, thrown by the affection the action inspires in him. 

“Hey, stop that.”

“My arms gone…” Arthur breathes, shivering, shifting his grip to squeeze Vivi’s hand, staring at her with wide eyes. Her expression radiates concern.

“I can’t remember anything.” Arthur stammers, growing more panicked.

 “The doctor said that’s normal for recent trauma suffers,” Vivi placates, returning the squeeze “…here, I’ll call the nurse now. They should probably be the ones to explain this…Also...I'll text Uncle Lance as well...he'll want to know you're awake...”

 “Trauma?” Arthur interrupts dumbly, looking from Vivi, who reaches for bed’s call remote and then her phone, to his bandaged shoulder like he’s not sure if it is real. Internally, Lewis winces, uncomfortable. Even if this is fake, it still feels like an invasion of privacy.  

 “Were we in an accident? I remember a…a cave or something... It was dark…green...” He shivers again. 

  “I…” Vivi’s voice wavers, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. 

 “I can’t remember much either…” She admits, uneasy. 

 “Oh..I...I see.” 

They both appear equally confused, lapsing into a disconcerting silence. 

Lewis’s thoughts shift anxiously at the admission. Is it a good or bad thing that neither of them remembers that strange cave nightmare? Did that mean neither of them remembered his death? It had been a pretty traumatic event…maybe it is for the best that they don’t remember. But why include that in this set of fake memories? If the point of all this was to make Lewis suffer, then witnessing Arthur remember unwillingly pushing other-Lewis down a pit would be more upsetting for the both of them. Knowing Arthur, his friend would definitely blame himself for other-Lewis’s death. Surely, forcing him to watch his friend spiral into a circle of self-deprecation would be the worst sort of second-hand torture. 

 “What about Lewis? What does he remember…” Arthur asks suddenly, glancing around like he is expecting the other-Lewis to come strolling around the curtain. 

 Of course, there is no Lewis. If this was continuing on from the last memory then the other-Lewis was dead. Vivi doesn’t respond and Lewis’s feels a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach . Or maybe it’s Arthur feeling that...hard to tell. 

 “Vivi?” Arthur glances back in time to watch Vivi’s expression slacken, eyes growing vacant. 

 “Vivi?” Arthur repeats, flustered, pulling at the hand still holding hers. Several seconds pass and Vivi stares, unfocused and unaware of Arthur and his increasing panic.  The memory ends with a nurse arriving and Arthur trying to physically shake a response out of Vivi.

.

 Lewis is left cut off from his two friends to fret in silent isolation. Around him the dark presses in once more. Even if the memories weren’t real, Lewis still feels a lingering pang of worry and distress at seeing either of his friends hurt. He would give anything to just...walk into that hospital room and alleviate Arthur’s fears and check on Vivi himself. Angry and anxious, Lewis waits for something else to happen. 

How many more of these disquieting, fake memories is he going to have to live through? 

...... 

Note: Hello! It’s been ages (^▽^;) here’s an update. Enjoy!

Part 38: here

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Yule Man (1/7)

As told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

"It's he who brings the Yule ice and snow to Arnsberg." The little girl said.

Everything seemed somehow brighter and warmer on that peaceful afternoon.

The lines of holly hanged above the walls and windows gave an otherworld feel to the street. The jingle of the bells of the market down the avenue helped to remind how happiness sounded like. Silver bells adorned the rooftops. The traditional statues of silver stood on the churches’ terrains.

They promised that the Silver God would once again bless his holy season. The store windows promised an affable and cozy night. That was not what that beggar boy received.

The confectionery attendant shoved him away with all scorn and disdain possible in a man. Why did he should show him kindness? The boy couldn't pay, and he was so filthy dressed he would drive customers away. And as he said beneath his breath while coming back to the store:

"Magic only brings trouble."

Mia Hayek and her baby sister were stepping in their carriage when they saw the scene. The poor young man looked at the sweets in the windows of the confectionery with so much craving. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in a long time.

She took out her long wide hat and her cotton scarf and asked her sister if she knew that boy. The little girl, with all sincerity that a child is capable off, responded.

He had a slender and thin body, but the enormous, hooded fur coat worn swallowed it completely. He carried a huge bag of shabby cloth against his back. The fur hood and the cloth around his lower face made it hard to give him an age. Mia was sure he couldn't be older than twenty.

Everyone in Arnsberg knew the boy. Always seen wandering without destination in the Solstice Eve carrying that stained bag. He arrives in town no sooner than the first snow. He stays for the twelve days of the Yule Festival, then he disappears. And no one can find him before the next one.

Mia saw him in the last year. He lived near the park in front of the bakery. The baker shoved him away as if he was a stray dog. He has not changed a thing from then.

"He never changes." Sophia mindlessly added. "Even mother remembers him from her time. He never changes."

Mia stared at the boy. Ragged and disheveled. Time had devoured those clothes, tattered and grimy as they looked.

"Is he magical?" Mia asked.

"Yeah!" Her little sister nodded. "But he can only bring the snow, he can't control it. He's harmless."

"Stay here!" She told her.

Mia stepped out of the carriage and walked in the direction of the boy as fast as her boots allowed. Noticing being followed, he turned. She stopped in the spot.

The hood obscured his face. He maintained his back bended, and he avoided looking into her eyes. By the way he stayed quiet, she knew he was nervous. People dressed like her usually didn't had nice things to say to people dressed like him.

"You're beautiful!" He whispered to himself, hoping only he listened.

She smiled back.

"Thank you!"

She heard and he could only blush in response.

"Sorry, but I always see you around here during this time." She began saying while messing with her curly hair. "The town can get pretty cold. Do you have where to pass the night."

The boy chuckled, and she could see a vague spark in his eyes.

"The cold never bothered me anyway, madam."

"What do you carry with you?" She came forward and touched his long bag. It felt so freezing that she immediately withdrew as by sheer impulse.

He lowered the cloth that covered his face and looked up to her, allowing Mia to take a deep look.

"I... I should already release this thing, but... I got distracted. I wanted to find something to eat first, so..." He sounded so nervous, trying so hard to justify himself, as if fearing punishment.

His face was pale and soft, still with signs of boyhood. His eyes were big and innocent, in bright green. His beard was as red as a fox, and it was shaggy and full of pieces of ice.

"...and now I don't know where to release this stuff."

"Do you have where to spend the holidays?" She interrupted him.

"No." He answered embarrassed.

The question really pierced through him. She saw how it affected him in the wrong way. A second question slipped through her mouth before she could have time to re-evaluate it.

"Do you found somewhere to eat?"

He didn't respond.

She drew his hands, letting his bag land on the ground. It surprised her how soft and warm they were.

"Stay the Yule with us."

Mia could just have brought him food and then forget anything about him in the next day. Any normal person would do that. Maybe she felt a genuine urge to help him. Maybe her pity for him spoke louder. Perhaps she found him too adorable to let go. Whatever the real reason may be, something drew her to him.

"My father is wealthy, but generous. I'm sure he'll allowed it."

He smiled to her by a second, as if he loved the idea, but then he frowned, as if he remembered something.

"I'm sorry. You have been very kind, but I can't."

"Please!" She insisted, her voice cracking a little. "You can't spend the Yule in the streets and in the cold."

""I already used to it."

He forced a sly grin, as if trying to tranquilize her. He continued. "I'm sure you mean well, but it's better that I stay here."

"Our mansion is always open to those who need it, and you'll be well treated there."

"A mansion?" He frowned.

"My father is Mr. Hayek. My name is Mia Angela Hayek. Ravi de vous rencontrer." She greeted him with the dress.

"Never heard of him." He joked.

"Please, stay with us. We...

"Is it comfy..."

"What?" She asked surprised.

He spoke in a tone that made her think of a timid small boy.

"Your mansion. Is it comfy and cozy? That's how I always picture these places to be." He didn't want her to see he smiled.

"Of course." She nodded.

"Does it have a fireplace?"

"Yes. You can drink hot cocoa by it and eat some gingerbread cookies if you want."

"I never eat a gingerbread cookie."

"You can eat all sweets you wish. The kitchen has smelled wonderful since morning. My father is giving a big ball tonight. It will be so full of cakes and sweets. It will make even the most illustrious confectioneries envious."

Mia saw how much the idea pleased him, how much it tempted him to say yes. Yet, something held him back.

Against his better judgment, he said:

"Okay."

The air grew colder on that moment. The winter breeze brought chills down her spine. Whatever it was, the boy felt it too.

"But just for one night." He soon added.

"What's your name?"

"I don't have one." He said while pulling back his bag.

She tilted her head.

"How come you have no name?"

"Never needed one."

James Hayek had all the reasons to be jolly during the holidays. This son of immigrants became the most important merchant in all the North Kingdom. The Hayeks were the wealthiest mixed family in Arnsberg. This filled him with pride, but also a deep sentiment of duty. As a child of Arnsberg by heart he felt as his duty to retribute all his good luck back to the community.

The Hayek Mansion was a charming building located near the road down to Arnsberg, far close to the forest. Mr. Hayek certified himself that its doors would be forever open to the town that welcomed him.

It was the Solstice Eve. Tomorrow the Yule Festival would begin, twelve days of tradition and merriment. A gigantic fir-tree of nine meters was brought to the mansion's courtyard. The servants of the Hayek family surrounded its needles with all sorts of ornaments. They garnished the Yule Tree with silver, gold, and all kinds of jewelry. On its top, the Solstice Sun ornament promised to shine brighter than the real one. Not even Queen Ava's tree in the Royal Palace was as beautiful as the one who stood now in the Hayek Mansion.

Dozens of statues of goats surrounded the tree, all carefully made of pure straw. A somewhat forgotten tradition that Mr. Hayek couldn't let go in any capacity.

Two full tables had been already set. Roast turkeys and ducks, steamed hams and caramelized cods covered the first table.

The second table looked like a small child's fever dream. Colorful palaces of gelatin and chocolate sprinkled with sugar. Snowy towns and castles of gingerbread covered with white marzipan. Fountains and rivers flowing with chocolate. Towers of cakes and pies. Mountain chains of pudding with nuts and chestnuts boulders. It had enough to maddening the youth.

When Mia and Sophia arrived at the Hayek residence, the Yule Log had been already tossed into the fire. Both her and her sister helped the fur-cladded boy stepped out of the carriage. No sooner they crossed the golden gates, the servants already whispered between themselves. They couldn't help but gaze at the peculiar young man with awe and curiosity.

As soon as the girls walked upon the carpet in the living room, their parents rushed to speak to them. When Mr. Hayek first heard the news, he had to come to see it by himself.

"You brought the Yule Man?" He gave a strong laughter that came straight from the bottom of his belly.

The boy didn't know how to react, so he stepped behind the sisters and gave him an awkward smile.

Mr. Hayek was a cheerful and youthful old man. Mrs. Hayek could be the proudest woman the world has ever seen. She fitted the role of the women who dressed to show the world her social status. Her blue eyes had troubles showing affection. Her corn-like hair was stylized in the same way as the fashion magazines. Meticulously armed.

She approached Mia to talk in particular.

"You should be getting dressed." She spoke with veiled bitterness.

Mia tried her best to argue back.

"Sorry mother, I was doing shopping when..."

Her mother definitely didn't want to know. She twisted her eyebrows and said:

"Why are you so irresponsible. I'm tired of sorries. And what are you wearing for the gods' sake" She started yelling.

Mia swallowed her mother's sermons with her best poker face. Since she was a child, she knew how harsh Mrs. Hayek's criticism could be. Nothing different from the woman that searched for defects in everything.

"You know how this night is important. It's your first ball. My daughter shouldn't look like a hag." She took a pause to breath. "Go get dressed!"

Sophia came forward.

"Can the Yule Man spend the Yule with us?" She asked with manipulative eyes.

"You can't bring him here." She whispered while offering a false smile to greet the newcomer boy.

Fritz and Thomas, Sophia's elder brothers, looked at him with intense curiosity.

"Magic always leads to trouble." She put.

"Mother, he needs us." Mia shot back. "Besides not aging, there's not that much he can do. He is harmless."

"Mia, can you stop arguing..." Her mother tried to shut her down as she always did.

Mia had other plans.

"Father..." She turned to Mr. Hayek. "This is the true Yule Man. You can show him to the town's children tonight.

"I like children." His tiny voiced ricocheted off the living room walls. They turned to face him.

"They are nice to me." He said in a small tone behind them.

They almost had forgot he was still there.

"My dear, I don't know..." Mr. Hayek gazed at his unhappy wife.

"Remember when you were young and poor, and they chased you off that department store." She pointed to the boy. “They shoved him out of the confectionery as if he were nothing. He doesn't have where to spend the Yule days. He never had."

Mr. Hayek grew quiet. Not everyone had been nice to him. The way he looked had closed a lot of doors before. He promised to never take part in any judgment by appearances.

"You win." He winked at her. "Okay. Welcome to our Yule party Mr. Yule Man.

The boy looked at Mrs. Hayek. He saw her eyes steaming.

The guest started appearing around the evening. The parties in the Hayek Mansion always yielded weeks of conversation and gossip. They were more accessible than official public events. Open to everyone who wanted to participate. Thanks to that Mr. Hayek received the charming nickname of the "Father of the Poor." from his enemies. He liked it.

In her bedchamber, Mia wore a ballgown that had the color of the winter night sky. A low busted and short sleeved gown that drew attention to her silhouette. It was richly embroidered with snowflake patterns that surrounded her skirt. A delicate bow tied her curly brown hair back, drawing attention to her delicate face. Her strong red lipstick contrasted quite well with her light-brown skin tone.

When she went down the staircase. She gasped at how beautiful her house looked. Decks of holly, ivy and winter roses scattered everywhere. When the Yule Man saw her, he gasped at how beautiful she looked. He raced to her, still with his bag.

"Why are you still wearing this thing?" She pressed her lips together. She sounded just as her mother.

"Sorry If I was too rude. Do you like it?"

"No. No. I don't like this thing at all." He chuckled while eating a huge piece of marzipan with his free hand.

"So, why do you wear it?"

"As if I had a choice." He smirked.

He had finished his attack on the table of sweets. His mouth still was stained with sugar and chocolate. She noticed he had pockets in his suit, because they were full of gingerbread cookies and pieces of cake. The corners of her mouth lifted a smile as soon as she realized it.

When they arrived at the courtyard, the guests already crowded the place. The music had begun. The youthful couples already waltzed together amid the chatter of their families. That scene never failed to fill Mia's eyes, and now she could be officially a part of it. Her first ball as a woman.

She saw her mother approaching.

"What are you wearing." She yelled in her lowest tone.

Mia stood in her defensive position.

"Mother, you promised I could pick my own dress."

Mrs. Hayek exhaled.

"Yeah, I did. You look beautiful."

Mia smiled in relief.

"You too mother."

"You look perfect, and it's Yule, but don't exaggerate on the food." She laughed. "You know how the woman in our family have problems with weight."

Mia forced a yellow smile as a good daughter. As soon as her mother departed, the boy tried to cheer her.

"That was close. You survived the attack of the amazing shrew. Good job."

Mia laughed out loud. He felt proud with himself.

The children on the place couldn't stop looking at him with amazement. She turned to him.

"You don't really have a name?"

His smile disappeared.

"No."

He tried to physically walk out of that social interaction. She followed him.

"Do you at least have parents or relatives?"

He spent a couple seconds thinking.

"I don't know. I believe that I don't."

"Where you go when you aren't in Arnsberg? Do you visit other cities?"

"I prefer not to think about that." He said as politely as he could.

"Can I ask about the bag?" She joked.

He handled the bag over to the other hand.

"Nope!"

He really didn't like the direction of that conversation.

"Can I least ask you about the beard? Do you like it?"

He stopped. He looked at her.

"Not even a little." He laughed. "It's shaggy, it scratches, and it annoys me so much."

"Why you don't shave it?"

"As if I had a choice."

That was getting on her nerves.

"Why wouldn't you have a choice?"

He looked deep into her eyes.

"Because only real people have a choice."

On that same moment, a man wearing a red fur cloak and carrying a sack full of toys and stepped out of the servant’s door. The children gasped and cheered his presence and rushed in his direction. The adults were left amazed. Santa Claus had arrived. By his side, a very tall man came closer, wearing a wooden goat mask and wearing a very thick coat. On his hand he carried birch branches. The children surrounded them in seconds. The Goat-masked man asked in his spookiest voice if they had been nice or naughty that year. Santa had already start delivering the presents to all the children.

Mia nudged him.

"It's my father. He lives by the Yule Festival." She boasted. "He loves to dress like Santa. He's the only black St. Nick in the town."

"I find funny how you always seem to agree that he's an old fat man in red."

He left her confused.

"Excuse me."

"St. Nicholas is way younger than that. And he drinks." He chuckled. "A lot."

She tilted her head and frowned.

"How can you tell? No one can see him."

He stayed quiet.

"Do you know the real Santa?"

He broke the silence.

"He's a good man. He's nice to me. The Yule Goat is bad. He's very bad. He beats children."

He nodded to the goat masked man. Mia saw that it unsettled him a bit.

"Calm down. It's just Edgar, our butler. He likes to scare kids, so every year he dresses like the Yule Goat."

All the kids after receiving their presents ran to his side. Mr. Hayek as the jolly saint came closer to Mia at said in direction of the young man:

"This man..." He certified himself to be heard by everyone. "...is the Yule Man. Today he will show us the magic of the Yuletide season."

The crowd turned and stared at him in intensity. The typical hypocrisy of mortals: They fear magic but can't lose a chance to see it close. The boy himself stayed quiet as a mouse in his spot.

Mia asked in his ear:

"Crowds make you nervous"

"Yep" He almost couldn't be heard.

"I realized."

He walked to the center of the courtyard without saying no more words. Near the fir-tree he tossed his bag on the ground. Mia attended all that closely.

He pulled the knot that tighten the bag closed and opened it. A single snowflake came out first. It flew like a white butterfly in the direction of the wind. Calm, gentle, beautiful. It shimmered like nothing else. Some of the children ran after it and tried to catch. A second came out, and third, and a fourth. The snowflakes then burst out of the bag, billions of them. Small bright crystals that looked more like pixie dust.

He opened his arms and allowed the endless wave of light blast off and fill the skies. The crowd clapped and cheered in a mad frenzy. Mr. Hayek couldn't believe his eyes.

Mia stood there, speechless. The sight took all her ability to think properly.

The Yule Man closed his eyes. He shook both hands together as quick as he could. The bright outburst ceased. The bag dissolved in icicles. As if the world's largest swarm, they dashed up, up into the sky, while the snow started to fall.

He turned back to them.

"And this...This is how the Yule snow comes to Arnsberg."

The crowd clapped in pure ecstasy. He exhaled relieved.

The kids chased him. The adults had troubles understanding what happened. Mia stayed quiet in her thoughts processing everything.

The north wind blew over them all. The boy felt the message sent to him down to his bones. A dark figure appeared in the corner. He knew there were consequences to be dealt with.

Mia searched for him when he appeared and shook her hand.

"I'm grateful for everything..." He started. "... but St. Nicholas saw me. I already violated too many rules."

And he ran away.

"What!"

She stayed behind, left speechless again.

Mia marched to her parents close to the mansion's entrance.

"Father, what did you said to him?"

She took Mr. Hayek by surprise.

"Nothing, I..."

Sophia stopped playing with the other girls and their new toys and walked to them.

"It was not him. It was the real Santa.

"Hey!" His heart broke. He said visibly offended. "How long do you know I am not..."

Mia interrupted him.

"Sophia, why are you talking about?"

"St. Nicholas came here to talk to him."

"How I didn't see him?"

She responded with such innocence that terrified Mia.

"He's invisible to you."

Mia rushed back inside and searched for him everywhere. She found him when he was getting nearer the front gate.

"Why did you leave?" She approached him behind pulled him by the arm. You said you would spend the night here."

"I can't. I simply can't. St. Nicholas talked to me...

"Santa? Santa threatened you?"

"No. St. Nicholas is nice to me." He argued. "Only a few like him are. The North Wind brought him here. He told him how I was breaking the rules. Different from him, I can be seen by mortals. He thinks it's not wise for me to get too close to them, to you."

He paused as soon as he realized how that sentence could be interpreted.

"To you guys, the mortals, your family." The awkwardness possessed his body.

Her forehead furrowed while pressing her lips together.

"What are the rules?"

He scratched his head and lowered it down.

"I arrive to Arnsberg by the first light of the Solstice Eve. I must leave before the first light after the Yule days are over."

Her expression lightened.

"So, you can spend the festival with us."

"Do you even listen to me?" He cried out loud.

She placed her hands over his shoulder.

"Listen, you will not violate any rules. As long as you left..." She gesticulated for him to continue it.

"Before the first light after the Yule days are over." He added.

"I know you liked here. So, what do you say.”?

"Mia, I can't."

She raised her voice.

"So, they want you to spend the holidays in the street?"

"I don't have a choice." His jaw clenched and he shut his eyes.

She drew him closer.

"Yeah, you do."

That simple phrase teared down his walls. He no longer felt the ground under his feet. His eyes teared up.

"Do you really believe that." He said in a cry voice.

She struggled to look him in the eyes now.

"I do." She smiled to him.

He closed his eyes.

"Okay, I will spend the Yule Festival with you."

He heard the wind blowing outside. A very bad omen indeed. For some Mia sensed butterflies on her stomach. She felt a sweet taste in her mouth. Something sweet and warm inside her chest.

"Okay, I will ask Edgar to lead you to the Guest room."

He shook his head.

"It isn't necessary. I hate giving people trouble. I can sleep anywhere."

She raised her eyebrows.

"But you need a name. Can I call you Christopher? I always found a beautiful name."

"Yeah, you can." His eyes twinkled while the corners of his mouth quickly turned up.

She stepped closer.

"Happy Yuletide, Chris!"

[goodlucktai]

look how long this love can hold its breath

king falls am word count: 5841 title borrowed from your love finds its way back by sierra demulder

read on ao3

x

The Sammy in this hospital room is a gentle creature. All his sharp edges are worn down. He sits beside the bed and holds Jack’s hand, and even though his clothes are torn and his hair is tangled and his face is gray with exhaustion, he doesn’t let go.

Five years, Lily had said. Five years.

And Sammy is here, not letting go.

The last time they spoke, Jack vacant and hurtful, Sammy with tears in his eyes, doubles as Jack’s last working memory of life before the dark. His stomach churns with nausea, remembering now what the shadows hadn’t let him see before: Sammy, struggling to help this new version of his fiance that didn’t want his interference, with no one to call for support because they didn’t have any family they were on speaking terms with or close friends they could trust, reaching out and reaching out and reaching out to Jack only to be turned away each time.

“Sammy,” Jack says. It comes out hoarse, as though he’s been screaming. “I’m so sorry.”

Sammy reaches over with his unoccupied hand, smoothing his thumb against the crease in Jack’s brow. He used to do that all the time, when Jack was doing their taxes or fixing a last-minute scheduling error, easing the frustrated lines of him soft again with a simple touch. Jack’s eyes go hot with tears.

“Don’t do that,” Sammy says quietly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

He looks like he means it. Jack can’t make sense of that. It’s too good to be true. The whole tableau feels inches away from tipping over into uncanny valley, too much like a dream to be real life.

But before doubt can rear its head, Jack makes himself breathe.

Stop, he thinks fiercely, with all the strength he has left, the not-inconsiderable presence of mind that kept him sane in the Void. Be here.

Sammy is holding his hand, the cool band of his engagement ring glinting under the fluorescent light. Lily is heavy in her sleep and one of her earrings is digging into Jack’s shoulder through the hospital gown. In the chair behind her is a young woman Jack doesn’t know, talking in soft undertones to the town sheriff, who’s crouched beside her chair with his hat in his hands. There’s a curly-haired man propped against Sammy’s shoulder in much the same way Lily is propped against Jack’s, fighting sleep with every slow blink. The three of them are as dirty and disheveled as Sammy is. They all look as though they’ve been through hell and back.

Jack takes it all in; the presence of his family, the company of a few trusted strangers, the steady beep of the heart-rate monitor, the ambient smell of medicine and disinfectant.

It isn’t the Void. He doesn’t think it’s a dream. Strange and bright and not entirely familiar, but real all the same.

He squeezes Sammy’s hand and resolves to follow his example. Jack isn’t letting go this time, either.

Be here for him.

#

Home is a small two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a faded brick complex, and it’s where Jack goes when he’s finally discharged from the hospital.

The main living area is a total disarray of unfolded maps and loose leafs of paper and takeout containers, but no one seems to spare the mess any mind on their way through. Emily leads the way down the hall and pushes open one of the bedroom doors. Lily and Sammy deposit Jack on a bed dressed in a rich red comforter. Ben wrings his hands in the doorway and makes noises about ordering pizza for lunch.

“Get over here where you belong, Benny,” Emily says, not unkindly. Ben needs no further encouragement, crossing the room at a sprint and then slowing down dramatically to pick his way gingerly onto the bed, as close to Sammy as he can get. “I think we’ve had enough pizza to last us a calendar year. I’ll call Mary. She said she wanted to bring us lunch.”

Sammy lifts his head. He’s pale and gaunt and the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing in the goddamn world. Jack can’t help but stare at him, even though it makes Lily roll her eyes and mutter something that sounds like ‘some things never change.’

“Her famous ham and biscuit casserole?” Sammy asks with more than a little hope.

Emily tugs at Sammy’s loose ponytail playfully. “It’s only famous because you talk about it on the show every night.”

“Avoiding the question,” Ben interjects.

“You hush.” She leans over to kiss him on the cheek, then Sammy, then Lily in quick succession. She pauses at Jack, absorbs the probably-bewildered look on his face, and settles for squeezing his hand warmly. “Get settled. I’ll call her. And make the apartment look habitable before she gets here, I suppose.”

“I’ll help,” Lily says, pushing herself off the crowded bed. “Might as well. I gotta make a call, too. I’ve kind of been putting it off. Mom is not going to believe this.”

She wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulders and squeezes him hard. Sammy gets the same treatment, though it manages to look antagonistic, since it’s them. Ben gets an affectionate shove. And then the girls move into the main room together, talking quietly as they close the door behind them.

“Can I be real for a second?” Ben says, all wide, guileless eyes. “Just totally off-the-record real?”

Sammy sighs. Jack may be out of practice, but he thinks he can still read Sammy pretty well, and this put-upon thing he’s trying to do with his expression doesn’t fool him for a second.

“It's probably pointless to tell you ‘no’. It has been every other time.”

“Dude,” says Ben, visibly not playing along. “You need to sleep.”

Worry clenches like a fist in the pit of Jack’s stomach. He thinks back on the almost-week he lived in the hospital and can’t seem to come up with even one vague recollection of Sammy so much as dozing off beside Jack’s bed.

Jack disappeared on him once. The idea that it could happen again must be a source of terror, even here, in this cozy room filled with golden afternoon sunlight. Sammy’s mind has always been something of a bear trap, liable to spring on him at any moment. His anxiety can’t have gotten any better after all of this.

“Sammy,” Jack says, gripping his arm. “Didn’t I see the sheriff cut you off from coffee yesterday? Don’t you think that’s a sign?”

“That was just Troy,” Sammy says, all but waving it off. “He worries.”

“He cares,” Ben contests hotly. “I’ll call him and make him make it illegal for you to get less than eight hours of sleep a night, and he’d do it. You know he would. At the very least he’d come over and make disappointed faces at you, which is practically the same thing.”

Jack likes Ben. He likes how clearly Ben telegraphs his love. It’s so loud and obvious that even someone like Sammy must be able to see it. Jack spares himself a moment of breathless gratitude that Ben is here.

“Illegal, Sammy,” Jack reiterates.

“Wow, it’s been, like, five minutes and you two are already tag-teaming me. Fantastic.”

But his eyes are shining, like he might cry, and his smile more than makes up for the tired shadows left on his face. He looks so happy to be here, to exist in this moment, between the two of them, beneath their hands.

“How about a quick nap before lunch?” Jack suggests. “I’m sure Lily will wake us up for food. She’s always had a gentle touch.”

Sammy laughs like it was startled out of him. Ben grins at Jack over Sammy’s shoulder, a grin that makes Jack think Ben likes him, too.

And maybe Jack ought to be surprised that Ben lays down to nap with them, that Sammy’s arm curls snug around Ben’s back to keep him from falling off the edge of the bed, but he isn’t. He reaches over Sammy to make sure the comforter is covering Ben, too, as easily as if he’s done it a hundred times. Sammy catches Jack’s hand when he’s done, folds it against his chest, and looks at him with love.

“Thank you,” he says. He means thank you for the blanket. He means thank you for a lot more than that.

Five years, Jack thinks. That’s a lot of time to make up for. This is a good place to start.

Jack leans in to kiss him.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he says softly. Sammy melts. Ben squirms with happiness, aglow at their affection. “We’ll be right here.”

Jack doesn’t sleep. He feels as though he’s slept enough for three lifetimes. He lays awake, instead, watching Sammy finally give into exhaustion, his cheek pressed against Jack’s shoulder, Ben’s head tucked under his chin. Emily peeks in some time later and smiles when she sees them. She doesn’t look surprised, either.

“Lunch is in an hour,” she whispers. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Jack whispers back, his heart clenching at the truth of it. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

#

There are a lot things Jack is struggling to wrap his mind around—King Falls is everything he had hoped it would be, a paranormal hotspot where UFO abductions, ghosts and lake monsters are the norm—but somehow it’s the comparatively mundane that trips him up the most.

Back in LA, Jack and Sammy weren’t exactly a part of a community. They got along with the guys at the station as well as they had to. They chatted in the break room, and went out for drinks when they didn’t have a decent excuse at hand to get themselves out of it, but generally they were happy just to go home. Call it an early night and shed their work personas at the door and make dinner together, touching casually and kissing often, to make up for all the opportunities they missed throughout the day.

But Sammy is a fixture in King Falls. His finger is on the pulse of this town, he and Ben heavily involved in community affairs and local politics. Their early morning talk show is a staple, and one of the first sources the people turn to for by-the-second news and honest reporting, or even just for friendly conversation on those nights when sleep isn’t forthcoming.

Before the shadows took him, Jack’s interest in the scenic mountain town was all his own; enthusiastic, kind of goofy, liable to make Sammy roll his eyes. It’s kind of ironic that while he never had any desire to visit this town, he’s the one who ended up carving a place for himself here.

More than anything, it’s a relief.

“I’m just glad to hear it,” Jack confides in Lily. “That he’s okay, you know?”

Lily’s face does something complicated, her mouth twisting into a frown.

“He wasn’t, really. He is now, but he wasn’t, Jack. Neither of us were. There’s a reason Arnold moved Sammy into his apartment. There’s a reason I'd camp on their couch now and then.”

Jack has no idea what his face must look like, but it causes Lily to set her cup down and reach for his arm.

“Hey,” she says sternly. “It’s fine now. Sammy almost did something really fucking stupid, and maybe if he’d been alone for the last five years, he would have. But he didn’t. He wasn’t. He’s got a lot of people here who love him an insane amount, and… and so do I.”

This is remarkably open for his sister, who has always played her cards close to her chest. It’s how Jack can tell she means it. It’s how he knows how badly he fucked up by being gone.

Lily wasn’t a part of his life at the time he fell into the Void, but Sammy was. Sammy made his home with Jack. They made each other so many promises and Jack managed to break every one.

“Hey,” Lily snaps. “Don’t freak out. It wasn’t your fault, and it’s over. You’re here now. So be here.”

A knock on the doorway into the living room startles Jack into looking up. Ben grins at him, wearing Emily’s yellow hoodie and one of Sammy’s overly large knit hats. He looks ridiculous, and Jack’s first impulse is one of immediate, unrelenting fondness.

“If this is a conversation about how much you love each other, or how much you love me, then take your time,” Ben says glibly. “If not, then we’re going shopping. Our fridge is totally empty and I’m not okay with it. You guys, it’s been like a week since Sammy’s made overnight oats. It’s— we can’t live like this anymore. Don’t tell him I said this, but I’m at the point where I’d do things I’m not proud of for his zucchini lasagna, and I don’t even like zucchini.”

Lily snorts, letting go of Jack. “You don’t like anything that’s good for you. That’s why you’re four feet tall.”

“A short joke,” Ben gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “It’s been, like, six minutes since the last one. I was getting really worried.”

“Get the hell out, Arnold. And buy some more of those frozen pancakes.”

“Hah, as if. We’re talking fresh produce and that shaved deli meat you have to get at the counter, and, like, I don’t know, almond milk.” Ben bounces on the balls of his feet, thrumming with energy. “Jack in the Box Jesus, I’ve never been this excited about almond milk. Coming, Jack?”

It’s absolutely unsurprising that Sammy is the one who does the bulk of the cooking, because that’s kind of always been his love language. Just because Jack has missed out on the last five years doesn’t mean they haven’t happened for everyone else.

A little bittersweet, but also something of a relief: Sammy still makes overnight oats, probably in those little mason jars that are such a pain to get clean. The life Jack is coming back to isn’t so different from the one he was taken from.

“Yeah, I’ll come along,” Jack says, pushing himself out of his chair. He can’t help ruffling Ben’s perpetually-ruffled hair as they collect Sammy from the living room. There’s a lot he has to be grateful for; a lot of people he has to thank.

Since the girls did the cleaning, they gleefully wash their hands of the shopping. Lily promises to keep Emily company, with a kissy face that makes Ben’s face flush with rage that’s probably only partly a joke, and Sammy steers him out the door with the evident prowess of someone who’s been on the job for years.

It’s late when they finally head out. Sammy and Ben are used to keeping odd hours because of the show, and Jack’s sleeping schedule is all kinds of messed up these days. Sammy smiles at Jack as they fall into step down the sidewalk and reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together as easy as breathing.

They walk all five blocks like that, like there’s nothing to hide. Jack’s heart pounds the whole time.

The supermarket is well-lit, a beacon in the fading orange dusk. The sheriff’s pickup truck is in the parking lot and they run into him in the freezer aisle. Troy is broad-shouldered and barrel-chested but his face is absurdly kind. When he sees the three of them, he breaks into a grin.

“Well, shoot!” He sets his basket down and hurries over, clapping Jack on the shoulder as warmly as if they’ve been friends all their lives. “It’s a pleasure to see you out and about, Jack! How you feelin’?”

“Better every day,” Jack says honestly, smiling back at Troy like a knee-jerk reaction. “Thanks for everything, man.”

Troy stopped in at the hospital every day, on his way to work or on his way home. He’d usually come bearing food; a bag of burgers, or deli sandwiches, or takeout from the only Chinese place on the edge of town. All their usual orders, and usually something for Jack, too, if the nurses let him get away with it. It’s obvious that he’s one of those people Lily mentioned; one of the ones who have been here for Sammy when he… wasn’t okay.

Troy moves on to haul Sammy and Ben into a playful embrace at the same time, one in each arm. They’re totally blocking the aisle but it’s late enough that they’re practically the only ones in the store.

“Now, what’s this I hear about you not sleepin’, Sammy Stevens?” Troy asks sternly once he’s released them both.

Sammy turns on his heel to glare daggers at Ben, who suddenly decides the frozen broccoli is the most interesting thing in the store.

“Hey now, don’t you go lookin’ at him like that. I asked Ben to keep me in the know. Lord knows you take a lot of looking after.”

“I’m fine, Troy,” Sammy says in the tone of someone who has said it a thousand times. “It’s just been a rough few weeks.”

“A rough few years,” Jack interjects, not unkindly.

He wants to take Sammy’s hand again, but he’s abruptly, irrationally afraid to. Jack has spent the majority of his life in the closet, and just because people in this town know him as Sammy’s missing fiance doesn’t mean he’s mentally overcome that fear of being found out.

Jack wonders how Sammy did it. He makes a mental note to ask.

For now, he reminds himself of Troy’s kindness and the role he played in bringing Jack out of the dark, he reminds himself of Ben’s easy love and immediate acceptance, he reminds himself of the five years he missed out on, and it’s enough. For now, it’s enough.

He takes Sammy’s hand. Sammy looks like he knows at least half of how hard it was, and the stubborn lines of his body relent.

“Ugh,” he mutters, squeezing Jack’s fingers. “Everyone’s ganging up on me again. This is gonna get old.”

“Sure, in about a billion years,” Ben says cheerfully.

They all do the rest of their shopping together, and Sammy only lets go of Jack’s hand for a few minutes at a time, to pick through tomatoes and heads of lettuce and all the other things he’s particular about. Everything else is Ben’s job.

When they’ve finished at the self-checkout, Ben says, “Troy, you wanna come over for dinner?”

“Nah, I gotta get home to the missus,” Troy tells them. “But we’re meeting up at Ron’s on Saturday for a barbecue, and y’all are gonna be there if I gotta pick you up myself. Now, do you boys want a ride home? You got enough grub there to feed an army.”

They pile their groceries into the bed of the pickup, and Ben calls shotgun, clambering into the front passenger seat of the double cab. Sammy rolls his eyes so hard Jack is distantly worried he’s going to sprain something, and climbs into the back passenger seat behind him.

Troy stops Jack from following with a gentle hand on his elbow.

“I just wanted to say something,” he says, his voice gentling so they’re not overheard. “I know this has been a big ol’ mess, and I’m sorry about the particulars of why you came to be here, and I know there’s a lot you’ve gotta get yourself used to before you can start thinking of calling King Falls home. But…” Troy rubs the back of his head, looking as though he’s worried about picking out the right words, for all that he’s utterly sincere. “We all think of Sammy as one of our own, y’know? And now that you’re here, you’re one of ours, too. If there’s ever anything you need, or someone you need to talk to ‘bout something you can’t bring to your family for whatever reason, you come right to me, and I’ll do my best to make it right. That boy loves you somethin’ awful, and it ‘bout killed me to find out how badly he’s been hurtin’ without you. I don’t want him, or you, to hurt like that again. There, I said my piece.”

Jack blinks rapidly, dimly aware of the tears in his eyes. That’s probably the kindest thing anyone has ever said to him, and for no other reason than they wanted to. Troy shuffles his feet and looks like he’s only barely not reacting to Jack’s tears, and Jack has a pretty good idea what that reaction is shaping up to be.

Jack wipes his eyes on his sleeve, and makes a vague gesture with his other hand. Troy says, “Aw, hell,” and hugs him.

“I hope them are happy tears,” the sheriff adds, sounding a little choked up himself.

“Yeah,” Jack muffles against his jacket. “Sorry. Thank you. For everything. For Sammy, and for—for everything.”

It’s hardly enough, but for now, it’s all Jack can do.

#

On Saturday evening, they head out for a barbecue and end up at the Bait & Tackle shop down by the lake. Jack is confused up until he climbs out of the car, and sees the picnic tables all dressed up, and the busy grill roasting burgers and brats, and the mountain of a man in cut-off shorts who comes bearing down upon them the second they arrive.

Sammy squawks as Ron Begley sweeps him into a crushing embrace, and Jack thinks, Ah.

“It’s about damn time you come see me,” Ron says. “Ben, get your ass over here.”

Ben submits to his hug willingly, and when it’s Emily’s turn she leans up to kiss Ron on the cheek. Jack steps forward because Ron looks willing to drag him in by the collar if he doesn’t, and Ron tugs him into a one-armed hug that feels much gentler than Sammy’s had looked. Lily dodges the whole scene with a jaunty salute and follows the smell of the food toward the picnic tables.

“Troy told me he already said most of what we’re feelin’,” Ron says gruffly. “But I’m gonna second it. This boy of yours has never done anything but stick his neck out for the rest of us, even when he was hurtin’ so hard he didn’t know up from down, and I’ll be damned if I don’t return the favor.”

“Ron,” Sammy interjects, coloring.

“You hush or I’ll make you go out on a boat to feed Kingsie her lunch,” Ron says shortly. “I’ve been waitin’ to meet Jack for ages and I got plenty of things to say.”

“Can’t it wait till after supper, Ron?” Emily asks politely, her low, sweet voice a weapon she’s happy to wield for her friends at the drop of a hat. “We haven’t eaten all day to save room.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ron doesn’t look fooled in the slightest, but he waves them on with a pointed look at Jack that promises a conversation later. Jack finds himself looking forward to it.

The next time they’re accosted it’s by an old man named Herschel, who blusters and cusses and does a lot of complaining about the general state of things, but somehow in the midst of all that he manages to get the point across that Sammy and Ben are ‘his boys’ and he’s happy that Jack has returned.

Two young kids run ahead of Mary and Tim Jensen, attaching themselves to Sammy at the waist and talking over one another, only peeling away when they spot Ben standing behind him. Emily explains quietly that Sammy and Ben did a lot of babysitting for Mary after Tim was taken by the rainbow lights, on top of everything else they did.

Mary pats Jack on the cheek with one weathered hand, someone who understands how hard it is to lose the love of your life into thin air, and kindly doesn’t say anything that would make Jack cry in front of everyone. Sammy returns her casserole dish, waxing poetic about that ham bake she brought over earlier in the week as he does, and instigates this hug himself.

Troy and his wife Loretta wave Jack over to their table, and he goes gladly, relieved to see a familiar face in this crowd of well-meaning strangers.

“They mean well, but we’re all so excited to finally meet you they can't help but turn into a mob,” Loretta says apologetically. She holds up a can of beer in one hand and a can of lemonade in the other, both beading with condensation from their time in a drink cooler at her feet, and Jack takes the lemonade. “You just wait until everyone’s stuffing their faces, and talk will turn to somethin’ else.”

She’s right. Once all the food has been brought over on big serving trays and everyone is sitting in front of heaping paper plates, Herschel says, “When are you two gonna start up your racket on the radio again?”

“Soon, probably,” Ben says easily enough, leaning bodily over Emily to steal a pickle off of Sammy’s plate. “Sammy still has separation anxiety, so Jack’ll probably have to camp out in the studio with us.”

Sammy flips him off, and Emily says, “As if you weren’t the exact same way with me, Benny.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jack interjects. “I love radio work.”

“That’s right, you produced Sammy’s show back in LA,” Troy says. “I’ll bet you miss it, huh? You know, there’s bound to be some work for you at the station if you want it.”

At the mention of LA, Jack thinks of something he’s been meaning to ask about.

On the way home, he says, “Whatever happened to our house?”

The car goes quiet. Emily darts a glance at the two of them in the rearview mirror; Ben turns fully around in his seat. Sammy looks a little thrown by the question, and more than a little uncomfortable.

“Your house? In California?” Ben asks.

“It’s still there,” Sammy says. “It didn’t go anywhere. Most of our stuff is in storage, though.” As if sensing imaginary judgement from his friends, Sammy’s shoulders hunch and he goes on, “What was I supposed to do? Sell it? I—we—still have a mortgage.”

“You’ve kept it all this time?” Jack asks. He’s not sure what he’s feeling. “Did you want to go back there someday?”

Ben’s grip on his seat goes white-knuckled. Emily turns the radio down. Lily got a ride home with Katie, which turned out to be a fortunate thing, or this conversation might have gone even worse.

Sammy says, “I want—” and falters. He seems to have to muster his courage, as if being honest with his wants in front of the three people who love him most in the world is a feat of strength and daring. “I want to stay in King Falls.”

It almost sounds like an apology. He looks sidelong at Jack, as if he’s sorry they ended up here, even though it’s Jack who started them down this road in the first place.

“There are people here I’d be totally lost without,” he goes on. “And I—and Ben is my—there’s not a good word for what Ben is to me. I don’t want to go anywhere without him.”

Jack’s heart is up in his throat. He turns Sammy’s face towards his, stroking his jawline with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. If this is where you belong, then it’s where I belong, too. No questions asked.” He waits until the tension has bled from Sammy’s spine, until the lines of stress are gone from his face, to add, “I got to feed a lake monster today. That changes a man.”

Ben laughs, loud and bright. Sammy reacts predictably. “You went out on a boat with Ron and dumped some dog food into the water. At best you fed a bunch of opportunistic trout.”

“I’m just saying, I’m completely sold on King Falls,” Jack tells him with a grin. “Even if meeting all your friends didn’t do the trick, Kingsie would have.”

Later, Jack will ask why Sammy kept the house if it wasn’t for a place they could someday return to.

Sammy will go quiet for a few minutes, eyes focused on something he’s not really seeing. He’ll be twisting his engagement ring around on his finger. He’ll finally admit that both of their names were on the house. When he got a letter in the mail from the bank, it was a little reminder that Jack had been real. Their life together had been real. The house was proof of what Sammy used to have, and he didn’t want to give it up.

He needed the reminders, he’ll say. He wasn’t okay.

The bedroom is quiet and dark, but not in a way that inspires any lingering fear of the Void. This apartment is a comfort, the last safe bastion on a crumbling wall, and Sammy is right beside him, hair a messy halo around his head, eyes wide and shining in the low light from the window.

“Actually, can you, um,” Sammy says. His voice is so quiet that Jack might have missed it if he wasn’t looking at him, if their faces weren’t inches apart. “Can you tell me you love me? Please? I know you do, I know, but I want—I need to—”

Five years in the Void wasn’t as painful as this. For a moment, Jack can only stare at him, aching.

When he moves, there’s a split-second of fear that darts across Sammy’s face like an animal startled across a road, an aborted motion of his hand as though he’d reach out to stop Jack from leaving him if it would do any good.

Jack hates that fear on his face, hates that there’s any reason for it.

He rolls Sammy underneath him, the weight of his body pressing Sammy’s into the mattress; the way they used to lay when Sammy’s anxieties were tearing his mind to shreds, when he needed that tether to what was present and what was real.

The air goes out of Sammy. His hands slide up Jack’s waist and under his T-shirt, pressing into the small of his back. His next breath shudders.

How long has he needed to hear it?

“I do love you,” Jack tells him, more certain about that then he is about literally anything else in the world. He kisses Sammy, long and deliberate, until he can hear Sammy’s pounding pulse begin to slow. “I love you more than anything in the world. I’m sorry you went so long without hearing it,” he goes on, mouth moving against Sammy’s lips, feeling the tears on Sammy’s face, feeling his knees come up to bracket Jack’s body even closer. “I’m sorry you had to wonder. I’ll tell you a hundred times a day from now on. I love you, Sammy Stevens. I’m going to marry you.”

Sammy sobs, and frees his hands to throw his arms around Jack’s neck, and holds him close. He must have been dying to hold him this way for so long. Jack goes on kissing him wherever he can reach, his cheek, his brow, his jaw, the soft space behind his ear.

“I love you,” Jack vows. “I do.”

#

During breakfast a few weeks later, they’re eating in the living room because there’s a bunch of mail on the table no one wanted to deal with. The overnight oats taste exactly the same as Jack remembers and he savors every bite.

Emily clears her throat, sets her food aside, and produces a folder.

“What’s up, Em?” Ben asks.

He and Sammy are both crammed into the armchair, because they’re children and couldn’t agree who got to sit there. Ben uses his proximity to steal blueberries out of Sammy's oats, even though he had insisted on peanut butter for himself when Sammy put them together yesterday. Despite his lengthy complaints, Sammy has an arm looped around Ben to keep him from falling.

Jack loves them both an absurd amount.

“I’ve been looking into real estate,” Emily says without preamble. “A house big enough for our family, with room to grow.”

“Ohh!” Ben says, lighting up. He tries to wriggle in excitement and only succeeds in elbowing Sammy in the stomach. “That’s a great idea! We should have thought of that sooner!”

Sammy darts a quick look at Jack, assessing his reaction.

“I helped pick them out,” he says gently. Sammy’s smile is a shaky, delighted thing.

“There are actually a few options that might suit us,” Emily says, laying out photos on the coffee table pragmatically. She’s biting down on a smile, obviously excited by the prospect of a home together, one that’s equally for each of them. “Jack and I put a smiley on the back of the one we liked best.”

It’s the one that Sammy and Ben gravitate towards, too. A handsome split-level four-bedroom house out by Sweetzer Forest, with a vaulted living room, wide bay windows and a furnished basement. There was a big fireplace that Jack could already imagine spending long evenings in front of, and a roomy kitchen for Sammy to work his magic in, and a guest room for Lily when she inevitably makes her way back to Washington every other weekend.

And maybe, someday, their family would be even bigger.

Ben trades one of those speaking looks with Sammy, flips the paper over, and hoots when he sees the little red smiley. He’s always all-in when it comes to the four of them, always enthusiastic to talk about a future that keeps them together.

“When can we go see it?” he asks eagerly. “I know you, Em. You made an appointment, didn’t you?”

She laughs, folding her hands over her heart. “Of course I did, Benny. We can go see it this afternoon.”

“Whose names are going on the house?” Sammy asks, flipping through additional pictures of the floor plan. The fact that he’s already darting ahead to the particulars is proof enough that he’s invested in the idea, too. “Usually they only allow two.”

“That’s heteronormative and I won’t stand for it,” Ben announces. “They’ll sign all of us or I’ll call the cops.”

Sammy says, dryly, “You can’t just use Troy to harangue mortgage lenders into a nontraditional loan agreement.”

“Troy would volunteer!”

Jack has a solid grasp on the shape of things in this town, so he says, “And if that didn’t work, we could just call in Herschel.”  

Ben and Sammy are both startled into laughter at the idea of setting that cantankerous old man on some poor, unsuspecting real estate agent, and Emily meets Jack's eyes from her side of the couch. Her expression is fierce with love when she reaches for Jack's hand, and he takes it firmly.

God, Jack thinks, it's so good to be here.

[phoenix-downer]

Thank you so much for the asks! I think I'm going to write Ashe and Rasler or Noctis and Luna for the "out of necessity" one, if I get a chance. But could you do the "in public" one for SoKai? Or perhaps the "out of lust" one? Because I guess I want to challenge you. Haha. Since both of them are sort of the opposite for SoKai, and I want to see how you'd handle it while probably still making it feel 99.9% canon.

Thank you for the prompt ideas, @oveliagirlhaditright! I decided to combine them both into one fic. Hope you enjoy!

No Return. ~3000 words. Set years in the future. Master of Masters!Sora AU.

“Riku, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Kairi said one last time as she adjusted the top of her dress. She was amazed it still fit after all these years, but it was one of the more revealing dresses she had in her arsenal, so she’d decided to wear it tonight. The slit traveled most of the way up her leg, and the neckline plunged so low that the fancy necklace around her neck, with its array of rubies connected by silver loops and chains, rested completely on bare skin. The dress didn’t have much of a back, either, and it was the exact shade of red that looked good with her hair color. It had been a gift, but the giver himself hadn’t seen her wear it in years.

That was all about to change. 

“He said he wanted to meet you here,” Riku pointed out, being careful to keep his voice low as people in their evening finest streamed past them and entered the art gallery. “This is the best chance we have of catching him and stopping him.” 

Kairi sighed deeply. She’d never wanted this; never wanted to be used as the bait to catch Sora with, like he was some kind of rabid animal that needed to be stopped and put down. But here she was, outside one of the World’s most beautiful art museums where the gala of the century was being held, all because he’d invited her himself and their friends decided it would be the perfect opportunity to catch him.  

“He’ll hate me, Riku,” she choked out. “He’ll despise me forever for what I’m about to do to him.”

Riku raised an eyebrow as he adjusted his tie. “Hate you? Sora could never hate you.”

“That just makes this so much worse.” 

A part of her wanted him to despise her. That was what she deserved. Of course, they couldn’t just… let him continue on his current path, but surely there was a way to capture him that didn’t involve such cruelty, such lying and deception—

Riku touched the earpiece in his ear, and Kairi’s heart sank as she watched his expression change, as his lips pulled into a taut line. 

“Xion’s spotted him inside,” he said under his breath a moment later, though the words were unnecessary. She fidgeted with her necklace for good luck. There was no going back now. 

“Everyone’s in position?” she said, trying to stall just a little longer. Their friends were all here, too, dressed for the occasion with a little extra help: Donald’s magic to disguise all of them. All except for her. Even Riku looked different than normal; his eyes were the same color, but his hair was strawberry blond, and his face looked different. 

“Yes.” He took her hands in his. “Kairi, listen. I know this is gonna be tough. But stop for a moment and think. The real Sora, the true Sora we all know and love—what would he want us to do? Allow him to continue like this and keep hurting everyone he loves, or put a stop to him?”

“I think this is the real Sora now,” she said sadly as she turned her head to look inside the building. Sure enough, she thought she could make out his figure on the balcony, waiting patiently for her above all the crowds. “Asking questions like that is just pointless.” 

“I understand. But if it helps, think of how he used to be.” 

She sighed deeply. “That’s more painful than thinking about what he’s like now.” 

“We’ll come for you the moment you give the signal,” Riku said as he released her hands. “You can do this, Kairi.” 

She nodded. She could do this. She had to. The Sora she’d fallen love with was long gone, and in his place was a twisted shell of a man. Capturing him would be a mercy. 

She took a deep breath and straightened, then emerged from their hiding place, strolling gracefully towards Sora like a predator stalking its prey. Every movement deliberate, measured; every step drawing closer to the man who had once held her heart. With each foot forward, she put that much more distance between her and Riku. She was inside the building now, and the guards checked to make sure she was on the guest list, then checked to make sure she carried no weapons.

There was no way for them to check for her Keyblade… or for how she intended to get Sora at her mercy.  

She strolled around the main floor for a while, admiring all the beautiful artwork. There was so much of it; endless piece after endless piece. Some pieces depicted sweet, tender affection, others more passionate scenes, but they all fit the theme “Love or Lust” quite well. She was sure Naminé would be examining each piece with a true artist’s eye, wherever she was in the crowd right now. 

She could feel Sora’s eyes on her long before she intended to talk to him. The more she drew this out, the more he would want to see her, and the more desperate he would be. So it was in her best interest to make him wait as long as possible. 

She strolled over to the food and drink tables and nibbled on the finger foods but skipped the alcohol. She needed her full wits to handle what was coming up ahead. As she was about to put another little sandwich into her mouth with ham and provolone cheese and tomato and this delicious sauce she couldn’t quite identify, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, and the man who greeted her was strong and bulky and wearing a similar outfit to the guards. Perhaps he was one of Sora’s bodyguards.

“Madame, would you like to see a special painting on the upper floor?”

She smirked and set the little sandwich back on her plate. “I’d love to, but I’d like to finish eating first. Tell your master that I will come to him when I’m ready.”

The man bowed slightly. “Very well, Madame. He eagerly awaits your company.” 

“Oh, I know he does.”

She took her time finishing the little sandwich, then went back for another one. After that she took thorough stock of the desserts and settled on a piece of chocolate cake and a little cup of tapioca pudding. But at last she was full, and she figured she’d made Sora wait long enough. A quick trip to the bathroom ensured her makeup was still impeccably applied, and then she glided towards the stairs and began her slow ascent to Sora. 

When she reached the top of the stairs, an enormous painting caught her eye. It was of two lovers wrapped in each other’s arms, naked except for the wings sprouting from their backs and a single red cloth wrapped between their legs. They floated against a starlit sky, and matching laurels rested on their heads. The man gazed at the woman, and she likewise gazed into his eyes, like they were the only two people in existence. 

No wonder Sora had wanted her to see this. It was truly a magnificent painting.  

“Kairi.”

She took a deep breath. This was it. She turned around, not entirely sure what to expect.  

For once he’d ditched the black robes and wore a suit with a red vest instead. It was well-fitted, and as much as she was reluctant to admit it, he looked good. His hair was still spiky, and he carried himself with the confidence that had drawn her to him in the first place. Her eyes roamed over him like she couldn’t look away. And his one golden eye roamed over her in return, clearly appreciating what he was seeing. The other eye was hidden behind an eyepatch, but even the eyepatch matched the rest of his clothes. 

A smile spread across his face, and for a moment, she almost forgot who she was dealing with here.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. 

She forced a smile. “Of course. I wanted to see you. And this art exhibit is truly incredible. This painting in particular took my breath away.”

That much was true at least. She’d never been good at lying, so it was best to stick to the truth as much as possible. 

“I figured you’d like it,” he said as he stared at it for a few moments, then looked back at her. She was vaguely aware of the people around them moving away as he gestured to the guards without breaking eye contact with her. Even though his remaining eye was yellow, she still found herself getting lost in his gaze. 

“I wanted to see you too,” he finally said, once they were alone.  

“So much that you would risk meeting me?” she asked, her eyebrow raising. “You know the others don’t approve. They’d come after you in an instant if they knew you were here.”

“But they don’t know,” he said with a grin. “And I know you’d never betray me. The others might, but you never could. After all this time, you still care about me.” 

“Is that why you called me here?”

“Is that why you came?”

She fell silent and turned away from him to stare at the painting. “I… I don’t know.” 

She heard him take a step closer to her. “I think you do. You just don’t want to admit it.” 

Why had she agreed to all of this, really? Was it because she wanted to put a stop to Sora, like Riku had said? Or had a part of her deep down longed to see him, no matter what the cost?

“You despise yourself for still loving me, don’t you,” he murmured in her ear as he put his arms around her. Her breath caught at his boldness, but her body responded instantly to his touch. It still remembered what her heart was trying so hard to forget. He brought her flush against him, and never had being so close to him felt so wrong and yet so right the same time. 

“How could I still love you?” she choked out. “You’ve done such terrible things—”

“All to save you. All so we could finally be together. I got tired of losing you. I got sick of being separated from you over and over again.” 

“Doesn’t matter. How could you ever justify what you’ve done?” 

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, and he finally released her. When she turned to face him, she was surprised by the honesty in his expression. 

“When did I ever say what I’ve done is right or good? I just don’t care anymore, that’s all. The only thing that matters anymore is being with you.”

His words tugged at her heartstrings, appealed to the twisted romantic deep inside her. His words were horrifying, and yet they were also one of the most honest declarations of love he’d ever given her. 

“You can’t cheat death forever, Sora,” she said sadly. “Not yours, and not mine.”

“No one can cheat death forever. But who says death has to stop us?”

He gently cupped her face and stroked her cheek. She hated herself for melting into his touch, for refusing to move away. 

“Do you remember our last date?” he asked softly. 

She nodded. That evening was still vivid in her memory. It was the last happy time they’d spent together before everything had gone wrong. A date back home on Destiny Islands to enjoy the autumn festival that turned into them strolling on the beach alone and then ended with—

“You were wearing the exact same dress you’re wearing now,” he murmured as he stepped behind her and his arms went back around her.

“I was.”

“And you look as beautiful now as you did back then. No, even more beautiful.” He nipped at her ear and teased the sensitive skin of her neck with his mouth, and her hand went over his. 

“You… you look very handsome, too,” she admitted. Even with only one eye that constantly reminded her of his corruption, she couldn’t deny it. 

“Well, the years have been kinder to you than they’ve been to me,” he said with a chuckle. His breath was hot on her cheek, and her heart was pounding in her chest.

“If only they’d been kinder.” 

“No more wallowing in the past,” he said as his lips rested at the corner of her mouth. “What matters is that we’re together again.” 

“Yes,” she said, then turned around and pressed her lips against his. He stiffened at first, then melted against her persistent mouth and allowed her tongue entry. A muffled moan escaped him as she kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her directly against him, one of his hands wandering dangerously low. There was nothing shy or reserved about this kiss; neither of them had the patience for that. They kissed each other with all the pent up desire and passion their years of separation had brought because they both knew there was no guarantee there would even be a next time.

As the kiss grew more passionate, she realized she didn’t want it to end. He was right. She still loved him, after all this time. The foolish heart of a foolish woman beat in her chest, but it didn’t matter. That heart was his. Always had been, always would be. She was as hopelessly in love with him as the woman in the painting was besotted with her lover.

She brought her hands to his face. She had to tell him, tell him everything. How she felt, why she was here, everything. 

“Sora—”

She felt him stiffen. 

“Gotcha,” came a voice that made her blood run cold. Sora was pulled from her arms just like all of those other times he’d been taken from her, and his sharp cry tore at her heart. Axel pulled his arms behind his back as Ven bound him with magic. She spotted Terra and Roxas confronting some guards, and she figured everyone else was also subduing guards as quickly and as quietly as possible. Thanks to Aqua’s magic, hardly anyone noticed anything was amiss.  

“Good work, Kairi,” Riku said as he rested a hand on her shoulder, and never had she felt horrible for receiving praise from someone. 

“Sorry, Sora, but we couldn’t just let you keep doing what you were doing,” Ven said sadly as he cast another spell on top of the first round to make sure Sora couldn’t escape. “This was the only way we could think of to stop you.” 

Sora’s eye met hers, shock and disbelief in his gaze. “Kairi? You were in on this?”

Her lower lip trembled and her eyes watered, but no words would come out of her mouth. 

“You betrayed me,” he said softly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “And here I thought you never could.” He barked out a laugh. “Guess I was wrong about that. I really can’t trust anyone after all.” 

“I didn’t want to do it!” she cried. “I was going to tell you, I wanted to warn you—”

“Sure you were,” he said, and his eye was cold. Their friends pulled him forward, and his eyepatch slipped down. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. The sad, empty socket of his other eye was laid bare; the eye itself was completely gone. The skin around it was scarred, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss it, to make up for the awful pain he must’ve endured to lose an eye like that. 

“Sora?” she said as she reached towards the missing eye. 

“That’s the Master of Masters to you,” he said coldly, and she couldn’t help the tears that slid down her cheek. Somehow his words hurt worse than everything else that had come before. 

“Enough of this, Sora,” Riku said as he grabbed his arm. “Kairi’s telling the truth. She didn’t want to do this and only agreed to it on the condition you’d be treated well.” 

“A betrayal by any other name is still a betrayal, Riku,” he said. “You of all people should know that.”

Riku stiffened but didn’t lash out. “Think what you want, but Kairi didn’t betray you. She never gave us the signal to close in. We captured you of our own accord.” 

Sora’s eye met hers once more, and there was a hint of something besides coldness in it.

“Riku’s right,” she said with a sniff. “And you were right, too. You were right about me. About us.”

Comprehension flickered through his eye, and he opened his mouth to say something when Axel interrupted him.

“Enough. We can talk about this back at the Tower. Our activities are getting us some unneeded attention.”

Sure enough, there was a group of people heading their way, even with Aqua’s magic counteracting this very thing. The sooner they left, the better. 

“Please, let me stay with him,” Kairi said. “That’s all I ask. I can’t… I can’t bear any more separations.” 

Riku and Axel and Ven exchanged glances, then nodded, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she told Riku as they led Sora along. Sora was quiet and didn’t put up a struggle, just walked along with them despite being their captive.

As her eyes met his eye, she thought she saw a spark of blue. Could it really be…?

Well, real or not, she would stay by his side. Capturing him was for the best, and she knew it was foolish to dream he wouldn’t face punishment. After what he’d done, he couldn’t just get off scot-free. But if there was even the hope that the old Sora, the real Sora, would return, she would stay by his side however long it took.

She cast one last glance at the beautiful painting behind them. Hoping that things could ever go back to the way they were before was foolish, but maybe someday, or perhaps in another life even, the vision before her would be more than just a dream. 

——————————————————————————————-

A/N: Thank you again oveliagirlhaditright! I know you like Phantom of the Opera, Versus XIII, and Master of Masters!Sora a lot, so I drew inspiration from them all three of those elements to write this story for you. Hope you enjoyed!

I’m still working on the rest of the kiss prompts (thank you to everyone who sent them in!), but if you’d like to read the previous ones, they include, “A kiss to pretend, “A good morning kiss,” “A kiss on a falling tear,” and “A kiss in secrecy.” Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Through the Flames (Part Five)

Summary:  You’re a firefighter with the FDNY. After a fire that ends in tragedy, you find yourself running into some of the Avengers and maybe finding some new friends and romance along the way.

Features: Mentions of fire; minor character death, gun violence; mentions of a New Jersey specific pork based food

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Reader

Notes: You’re on the road to recovery as you recieve devastating news. 

Word Count: 2138

You were getting sick of hospital food. You had been kept there for a week. A mild concussion, a messed up shoulder, and a broken wrist. They kept you because of the risk of complications and wanting to ensure you got started with your physical therapy. 

“You ever go home, Sam?” you joked when he came into your room with coffee and a bag of food. He had been sneaking you food when he could. The nurse that was usually in charge during the day was a no-nonsense woman who was known to forbid outside food from getting to patients. 

“Sometimes. Got your favorite. Don’t know how you stand that stuff. What the hell is a Taylor ham? I asked for pork roll and the guy at the bagel shop gave me a look” he said. 

“Pork roll, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel with salt, pepper, and ketchup is a New Jersey delicacy. Taylor ham is what the heathens in North Jersey call it. Taylor is a brand and legally they can’t call pork roll ham,” you said. Sam stared at you before shaking his head. 

“You’re...you know what I’m not going to even go there. Enjoy your food. Nurse Hardass was conveniently called away to another room when I got here,” he said. You smiled at him as you unwrapped your sandwich and took a bite.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you asked. The two of you made small talk as you ate. You had been checking in on Garrett daily. He was in a coma. You knew things weren’t looking good. Amanda and Carlos had both been in to see you, the two of them only suffering minor injuries. You were all worried about Garrett. He was like a brother to you, the first friend you had made when you joined the FDNY. 

Garrett had been your rock, the reason you never gave up. You weren’t ready for the possibility that he wouldn’t be there. Guilt weighed heavily on you. Sam could tell as he watched you when Amanda stopped by a short time later. Sam’s thoughts drifted as you and Amanda spoke. He was sure you had no idea what Natasha had told him.

“Your girl’s father? He’s ex-HYDRA,” Natasha said. Sam stared at her, mouth open as if he was about to say something, defend her. Natasha held a hand up before he could begin to argue.

“I’m not saying she’s HYDRA. But her father was. You mentioned the fire from when she was younger. Her father had been attacked. He was the only survivor other than her. She wasn’t home,” she said. Sam sighed.

“She said he was working for the governor then. Didn’t say much else,” Sam told her. 

“The governor was part of HYDRA,” Natasha said.

“You’re getting awful close to saying she knows something, Romanoff. If you think so, just come out and say it,” Sam snapped. 

“We have to consider all possibilities. Like it or not Sam, she is the one thing connecting this all together,” Natasha said.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts by you placing a hand on his arm. He hadn’t even noticed the nurse come in. 

“Do you have someone staying with you? At least for the first few days while you settle in,” the nurse said.

“I’ll be staying with her. If not me, one of our friends,” Sam said when he saw the deer in headlights look on your face. You let out a sigh of relief. You signed the papers for release and soon enough, you and Sam were on your way to your apartment.

“You don’t have to stay you know,” you told him. He smiled at you.

“I said I would, so I will,” Sam said. Amanda had swung by your place with groceries after she had left the hospital. Sam got you settled on your couch as he moved around your kitchen, getting dinner put together. 

After dinner, you could tell something was bothering Sam. You had turned on a movie you had seen a million times and turned toward him.

“Alright, out with it. What’s bothering you, birdman?” you asked. You knew he hated that nickname, except, it seemed, when it came from you. He sighed.

“Have you ever heard of HYDRA?” he asked. You frowned. It sounded familiar.

“Aren’t they the ones that caused that mess in DC a few years back and then there was some massive data dump?” you asked. You hadn’t paid much attention, aside from checking in on a friend who lived down in DC. 

“Yes. They date back decades. They infiltrated a secret governmental organization and other facets of government. We have reason to believe your father worked for them,” he said. You felt like someone had hit you in the stomach, knocking the air from your chest.

“My dad worked for the governor. After that...well. He couldn’t talk about his work. He worked for some government agency,” you said. Sam watched for any tell that you were lying.

“So you didn’t know anything about his work?” Sam asked.

“No. Sam, what’s going on?” you asked. He was about to answer when your phone rang. Amanda’s name lit up on your phone. You answered, only to have your phone fall from your hands as a sob tore through you. You barely registered Sam picking up your phone and talking to her. Garrett was gone. He was dead. 

“It’s my fault,” you said.

“It isn’t,” Sam said, pulling you close.

“If I had seen the wire sooner, I could have...I should’ve been...it’s my fault,” you said, unable to get a coherent sentence out. You weren’t sure how long Sam held you. If it was seconds, minutes, hours. He held you until the tears stopped and all that remained were dry sobs. He held you until your sobs quieted and sleep lured you in like a siren’s call. You were vaguely aware of him picking you up and placing you in your bed, under the covers. 

In the light of day, neither of you mentioned it and your conversation from the previous night moved to the backburner in his mind. HYDRA could wait. You couldn’t. 

The funeral was a few days later. It had been a blur for you. You thought about Garrett’s family, the guilt weighing on you. Sam was a constant. Anything you needed, he was there. You were sure you would have fallen to pieces if you hadn’t had him holding you up. Amanda and Carlos were great, but they had their own grief to work through. Their own grief to handle. Your entire unit did. You knew you weren’t the only one carrying guilt, but you felt like you were carrying the bulk of it. You had been in there with him. You had been the one to see the tripwire. You ran over the fire in your head over and over, replaying it as if it would change things. 

You felt awkward in your dress uniform with your arm still immobilized. You knew the Avengers would be there. As would the mayor. You tried to keep your mind off of what Sam had told you. He never did get to continue that conversation with you and there hadn’t been a good time to ask him about it. 

“You good, kiddo?” Carlos asked. While you couldn’t carry the casket in your condition, you were among those walking alongside the truck in the procession to the church, his helmet in your hands. 

“As good as I can be. Should have been me,” you said.

“Kiddo,” he said.

“I should have seen it sooner. If I had, we wouldn’t be standing here and I...I wouldn’t have to speak at one of my best friend’s funerals,” you said. He pulled you into a side hug, mindful of both your shoulder and the helmet in your hands. The helmet that felt like it weighed a ton. 

You moved in time with the others, a steady drumbeat playing. Line of duty deaths always hit hard. The streets were lined. Fellow firefighters and other New Yorkers lined the streets. As the procession arrived at the church, you kept your tears at bay. Amazing Grace began to play on bagpipes as the casket was lowered on the truck to be brought into the church. Garrett’s family was as Irish-American as they came, Catholic through and through. 

Entering the church, you had a role to play. Placing the helmet your friend wore at the front of the church, beside the casket. You turned and saw his wife. They had just welcomed their first child six months prior. Guilt washed over you once more. Your eyes darted around. You saw where the Avengers were sat, close to the front with other officials and dignitaries. Your unit was also toward the front. When your time came to speak you took a moment to find your words, standing at the podium.

Sam watched as you stood at the podium, your eyes shining in the harsh lights of the church. You didn’t look like a criminal mastermind. He was certain now more than ever that they could rule you out as a suspect. He had been with you when you found out. Held you while you cried. He was firmly in the camp that saw you as a victim of whatever mess was unfolding. He glanced around the packed church, spotting Natasha standing off to one side, her eyes scanning the crowd. Wanda was in the back somewhere and Clint was perched out of view. As you stared to speak, Sam kept his eyes on you as you made eye contact with him. 

“When Beth asked me if I would speak today, my gut instinct was to say no. I’ve been friends with Garrett since I joined the FDNY. And with that, came an easy friendship with his then girlfriend, now wife. Garrett was like a brother to me. He took me under his wing and taught me how to fly. He taught me how to stand up for myself. When I started, I was a quiet girl, who let too many things fly. Garrett refused to let that remain to be the case. Many here will remember Red Branigan. Red was the most senior guy on our crew and Red always gave me a hard time. 

It was Garrett that took pity on me. One day after a particularly bad call, Red was just letting me have it because I messed up. I wanted to cry. Garrett looked at me, told me to follow him, and I did. He sat me down and said ‘kid’ to which I looked at him and went ‘you’re a year older than me don’t call me kid’. He smiled and went ‘so, where’s that attitude when Red’s letting into you?’. I looked at him like he was crazy. He told me Red could tell I was holding back, that I wasn’t letting the team get to know me, the real me. So, he was doing what Red does. He was poking the bear hoping for a reaction to break the ice.

Garrett always had my back. I just wish I’d had his. I wish he was here. I wish he would get to see his little girl grow up. Because he deserves that. He deserves to be here. I know that wishing for him to be back won’t change things, but that doesn’t stop me from making that wish. He was my best friend. He was my brother. He was a loving son, brother, husband, and father. We will never forget the life he lived. The happiness he brought into our lives. He lives on in our hearts and we will carry him with us always,” you said, your voice cracking at the end. 

As the procession moved back outside to head to the cemetery, a shot rang out. You gasped in pain. It was a moment before chaos unfolded. You watched as Bucky Barnes took off toward something as someone caught you. Your brain caught up to the pain radiating from your shoulder as the initial panic started to fade. 

You were in a daze until you got to a medical facility. You knew it wasn’t a hospital. You looked at Sam, a question on your lips. Tony Stark had donned his Iron Man suit to get you away from the scene. Sam had followed behind.

“What the hell,” you muttered.

“We had a tip off that something was happening today. It’s about time we had that chat about your dad,” Sam said as Helen Cho entered the room.

“That talk can wait until after I treat my patient,” Dr. Cho said before introducing herself to you. Your world was about to get turned upside down. 

[lyssismagical]

we all need love, that simple love that makes us whole again

Whumptober Day Twenty-Six. Abandonment 

Read on AO3

There was a very distinct line in Tony’s life.

Before Peter and After Peter.

Before Peter consists of booze and hangovers, of women he can’t remember and ibuprofen every morning, of isolation and heaps of bad emotions drowned in alcohol. Before Peter is guilt and grief and anger and repression. Before Peter is everything Howard was, everything Tony swore he would never be.

After Peter consists of everything else. Of life and smiles and laughter. It’s Dr Seuss books and stuffed animals and toys left all over the living room. It’s baby proofing his lab and having Ice Cream Sundays. It’s good mornings and good nights. It’s learning how to do all the things he never thought he’d learn how to do like cook and bake and clean and care for someone. It’s love, so much love he doesn’t even know what to do with it.

And of course it’s fear and new things and anxiety and the worry that becomes like his shadow, but it’s not bad. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

*

The Line that splits his life in two wasn’t a good line. It was hard and confusing and the scariest experience Tony had ever had.

He’d been thirty, nearly thirty-one. And Peter was barely a year old. Small and young, and left on the front porch of his mansion in Malibu with nothing but the clothes on his back and short handwritten letter explaining the situation.

Tony had, to say the least, panicked.

A child. He had a literal child. Young and crying in the fall breeze outside, chubby cheeks red and soaked in tears, and looking at Tony like he could fix everything.

No car seat, no bottle, no bag, no diapers, nothing. Absolutely abandoned on the front steps of the Malibu Mansion.

He vaguely remembered Mary Fitzpatrick. A smart, quick-witted woman with so many intricate thoughts in her head. She was a dreamer and he supposes she couldn’t have a baby in the way of her dreams.

And something in him ignited in his chest when he had scooped the little toddler into his arms, and he knew he couldn’t let this baby go.

* It wasn’t easy to get rid of all his booze, to pour the bottles down the drain, to get rid of the bar in the living room. It wasn’t easy.

But whenever he needed a drink, he’d go to Peter’s nursery, with pale yellow walls and a little Star Wars mobile, and he’d watch his baby sleep. Snuffling and rolling and sucking on his little red pacifier, legs and fists kicking clumsily, and he’d remember why he stopped drinking.

Somedays were harder than others. Abandonment can affect even a baby, especially since he lost his mother.

Somedays Peter would cry and scream and couldn’t be soothed. Somedays he’d refuse to eat, bottom lip trembling and bambi eyes filled with shiny tears. Somedays he’d hang onto Tony’s fingers and wouldn’t let go.

Whatever it was, Tony would be there. He’d sit through all the crying, all the wailing, all the screaming. He’d sit with Peter and try to convince him to eat no matter how long it took. He’d read as many books as it took, with as many voices as he could to get Peter to give him one of his toothless smiles. He’d stay up for as many nights as it took to make sure Peter slept soundly.

* Very quickly, his life flips upside down.

Parenting books are piled high in his lab, replacing all of the dangerous tools. Dr Seuss books fill the shelf in the lounge instead of Stark Industries technology. The bar’s been converted into a playhouse, stuffed animals replacing all of the alcohol.

Peter filling the hole in his chest that had been empty since his parents’ accident.

And he does his damn best to fill whatever gap Peter had after being left with Tony.

* “Come on, bubba, don’t pull that today. You’re supposed to be meeting your Uncle Rhodey today,” Tony said, gently tugging the little bear onesie onto Peter who looked like he was about to start crying.

Peter pouted, bambi eyes filling with tears.

“I know, kiddo, I know, life’s tough. But Uncle Rhodey’s supposed to be here soon,” Tony continued. Little socks with fish are pulled on next, and then Tony finally scooped Peter up into his arms. “I don’t want Rhodey to think I’m a bad parent because you’re being fussy.”

Peter sniffled, little fist wrapping into his t-shirt.

“Okay, Bambi, okay. I’ve got you. You wanna read some Seuss? It’s been a few days since I’ve heard Green Eggs and Ham.”

Tony settled down in the comfy armchair, resting Peter comfortably in his lap, before he started reading.

“I am Sam, Sam I am…”

Tony postponed Rhodey visiting for a few days, not wanting to stress out his toddler. He knew how hard it can be to have sudden change in your life, so he lets Peter have the time he needs, and when he’s happy again, Rhodey comes to visit with bags of gifts and the softest smile Tony’s ever seen on him.

*

Is it selfish?

He’s rejoicing in a situation that came from pain and abandonment.

He tells himself he’s only finding the good in a bad situation. He tells himself that it’s okay for him to love Peter and love that he’s been given a chance at redemption. He tells himself that he’s not being selfish for simply enjoying what he’s been given.

But, there’s a lot on the other hand. Mary, for whatever reason, had to abandon her child. After a year, technically twenty and a half months, she had to leave Peter on Tony’s doorstep with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Something must’ve happened. If she really didn’t want the kid, she wouldn’t have had him in the first place. She wouldn’t have kept him for the entire year. She wouldn’t have waited so long to give him to Tony.

Something bad must’ve happened. Whether it was financial issues or if something happened to Mary. He knows how hard it can be in this profession.

And Tony’s here, reaping the benefits of the bad situation.

It’s selfish, he thinks. It’s unfair.

Even to Peter, who’s obviously been negatively affected by the abandonment, it’s unfair for Tony to disregard all the bad and enjoy what he’s been giving.

But he loves Peter. More than he’s ever loved anyone. Ever. He loves his kid to the moon and back, more than his parents ever loved him, more than anything. And that’s the thing isn’t it? That’s the thing that matters?

He loves Peter. His perfect little angel. His Bambi. His bubba. His kid.

*

It’s on the news nearly six months later.

Peter’s development has been slow according to his pediatrician. He should’ve been speaking at eighteen months, but he still hasn’t said his first word.

Tony doesn’t mind, but he hates that the bad situation has caused some sort of mental block for his kid.

But Peter’s laying on Tony’s chest, sucking his thumb quietly, making little snuffling noises. His eyes are drooping, but he’s mostly focused on the television where Tony’s boredly flipping through the channels.

And then-

Mary’s picture.

Tony recognizes her vaguely from the one night they spent together. Short auburn hair, tied half-up in a little bun, round-framed glasses, the same sprinkling of freckles over her nose.

“Momma!” Peter shouts suddenly, pulling his thumb from his mouth.

Tony freezes, remote nearly slipping from his grip as he scrambles to turn on the volume.

“Mary Fitzpatrick has officially been found dead after disappearing six months ago among the wreckage of a plane crash. As of yesterday, there were no other remains found at the site of the crash. Fitzpatrick’s coworker, Richard Parker tipped the LAPD into searching the area for the then-missing woman. Police don’t suspect foul-play. Over to you, Amy,” the news reporter says.

The screen switches to the weather report, so Tony mutes it.

“Momma!” Peter cries out, little fists hitting Tony’s chest in his desperation. Tears streak down his flushed cheeks. “Momma! No! Momma!”

Tony’s too frozen in shock to stop Peter, staring at the TV screen.

He only knew Mary for one night, but they had a kid together. And now Mary’s dead? She’s just-

“No!” Peter wails. He’s just a baby, just a little baby, and yet-

He knows. He somehow knows that this is bad, that this is wrong. His kid-

Tony moves quickly to stand up, keeping Peter cradled tightly against his chest, running through all the techniques to get Peter to calm down, bouncing and rocking and shushing his cries, but he doesn’t stop. He wails and sobs and hiccups until he falls asleep, head tucked against Tony’s neck.

Peter’s first word was calling out for his mom, scared and confused and upset.

It’s not fair.

Not to Mary, not to Tony, not to Peter.

None of it was ever fair.

But Tony will do everything in his power to be everything Mary was to Peter, to keep his kid as happy as he can, to honor Mary’s memory.

He’ll do everything he can.

* Peter’s four-years-old when the question comes up.

“Everyone at school has a mom and a dad,” he starts, confusion etched across his forehead. “Where’s my mom?”

It’s much too delicate of a conversation to have without any preparation, but Tony had been hoping for at least a couple more years of peace before having to break this to Peter.

He crosses around the table into the living room, Peter in tow, settling him down on the couch and sitting on the coffee table across from him. His kid already looks nervous, Bambi eyes wide and expecting.

Tony really doesn’t want to tell him. Doesn’t want to break it to him that his mom abandoned him, disappeared, and died, but he doesn’t really have a choice. The last thing he wants to do is lie to his kid about something this serious.

“To be honest, kiddo, I don’t know why it happened the way it did, but I didn’t get to meet you until you were a year old,” Tony begins, trying to keep his head from spinning. Moments like these, the urge to drink sparks a little bit inside of him, but he’s learned from past mistakes.

“That’s…” Peter counts on his fingers. “Three years ago.”

Tony smiles. “Yeah, that’s good, buddy. But yeah, me and your mom didn’t know each other very well, I only got to see her for one night, and she left. I had no idea you even existed.”

He tells the story like how he used to tell the Dr Seuss stories.

“But then, one day, I woke up and there you were, right outside my door. All by yourself.”

“Where’d momma go?” he asks, little forehead creasing in confusion.

Tony hates this part. “She didn’t tell anybody. I like to think she wanted you to be safe, and that meant being away from her.”

“But where is she now?”

He wishes he had the option to preserve Peter’s beautiful innocence and optimism towards the world around him. He wishes he could keep his boy away from the traumas the world casts upon the best people. He wishes he could close the book on this conversation and distract him with snacks and a movie.

But he can’t.

He can’t, with good conscience, lie to his kid forever about what happened to his mom. He can’t pretend that everything in sunshine and rainbows in life. He can’t pretend that he’s Peter’s only parent.

“She’s gone, bubba,” Tony responds softly, gently taking the kid’s tiny hand in his. “She got in an accident a little while after I got you.”

Peter’s face scrunches up. “All gone? Like bye-bye gone?”

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m sorry.”

“Like when Miss Pepper went to… to the not-party and was wearing all dark?”

He tries to smile at his kid’s purity, but it’s all backwards. “Yeah, kid. Just like that. Except your mom didn’t have a not-party, she was just gone.”

It’s almost a little too much guilt for him to harbor, but he had been a new parent, and he didn’t actually know Mary enough to give her a funeral. He didn’t feel worthy of that. He assumed Richard Parker, the coworker from the news, but he found out a little while later that there hadn’t been anything for her.

Peter nods, like he understands everything just fine. “Okay. But you’re not going to be gone?”

“No, bubba, I’m not going anywhere.”

* Some days every year are hard on them.

Mother’s Day comes and goes every year with a sad silence passing over them, until one year, Peter’s bold enough to give a handmade Mother’s Day Card to Pepper who accepts it with tears in her eyes when Peter’s seven.

The Anniversary of Mary’s Death only becomes significant when Peter’s older. And when he’s eleven, he asks to visit Mary’s grave for the first time, and Tony tells the story of how they met. It’s not a particularly long story, and one that’s blurred with alcohol, but it’s the only one he knows.

The holidays are always tension-filled. It’s never easy to have constant reminders that they’re a ‘broken’ family. They don’t have the families everybody in the movies and on the cards have. It’s just Tony and Peter, that’s it. No Mary, no siblings, no extended family. Just them.

For Tony, the day Peter was dropped off at his house, is a hard day. Not because he regrets any of it, but because he can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for her and for Peter. He can’t even imagine. All he can think about is Peter’s flushed chubby cheeks, crying and begging for his mom to come back.

It hurts.

But they manage.

They always manage.

Because they have each other and that’s all that matters.

  *

There was a very distinct line in Tony’s life.

Before Peter and After Peter.

Before Peter is bad. It’s the worst years Tony’s life will ever have.

After Peter is everything else. It’s hope and joy and laughter and tears, but good tears because they’ll always have a shoulder to cry on.

Peter’s abandonment on Tony’s front steps may have been one of the worst days for Mary, but it was the first good day of Tony’s that would lead to a lifetime of happy memories. He’s just making the best of a bad situation.

And at the end of it all, they were both only doing what was best for Peter.

Because that’s what Peter deserved, and he’d make sure that’s all Peter got.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Ten CCs of Sass || Ricky and Kaden

TIMING: A few days after Ricky took on an asanbosam and after Kaden’s mime stabbing PARTIES: @ricky-corderbro and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY:  Best roommates ever.

Kaden was starting to lose track of time in this stupid place. It was hard to know when was what when there were no windows in the room and time seemed to move at a snail’s pace. But he was pretty sure he remembered the layout of the room. And this was not it. Everything was similar but slightly off somehow. “Regan?” he asked, knowing full well he didn’t see her or Blanche or anyone else babysitting him at the moment. Maybe he hoped they would pop up around a corner or something. Still, no answer. But there was a fucking curtain halfway open and another patient on the other side. Putain de merde, just when he thought this fucking hell pit couldn’t get any worse. They must have moved his fucking bed in the night and now he had a goddamn roommate. And better yet, his IVs were taped down so thoroughly to his arm, he was pretty sure getting them off was going to take a solid ten minutes and take off hair and maybe even a little skin. He was thoroughly stuck. Fuck.

All in all it had not been Ricky’s favorite week. While thankfully they’d put him under for the harrowing process of putting his ribs back together and removing a portion of one of them from his lung, the pain afterwards had been almost enough to make him wish the asanbosam had finished him off. Sleep had been an elusive target, and it was only after a nurse had come in and given him something to knock him out that he’d managed a couple of hours. Waking up though, had brought a resurgence of pain everytime his heart beat and he took a breath, and it wasn’t until he heard a voice asking for someone named Regan that he realized how fucked his day was truly about to get. He recognized that voice, even if the last time he’d heard it they’d been on a rickety boat arguing about saving lives. He also knew that that voice was attached to someone he’d promised to try to kill, even if he was in no position to actually take action on the threat, “Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.” he rasped out, voice still not up to par, “Did I actually die? I must have. This has to be fucking hell if I’m stuck here with you”

Kaden’s brows knit together. Something about that voice sounded vaguely familiar. He turned to get a better look at his new roommate. “Putain.” He groaned. It was the fucking do gooder lifegarud boy who was probably some kind of monster. Or knew a few. Of fucking course they ended up in the same room at the same time. What a cherry on top of being stabbed by a mime a few times the other day. “You’re right about one thing, this is fucking hell.” Kaden wanted to throw something but there was nothing but the pillow in reach to toss and, uh, he didn’t want to have to call a nurse to come pick it up off the floor. “The hell happened to you, anyway? Have a run in with a perfectly innocent supernatural monster? Or did your dudley do-right routine finally screw you over?”

Through the haze of pain and pain meds Ricky could feel Kaden’s voice grating on his every nerve, “Jesus fucking christ. Of course it’s fucking you” He attempted to push himself slightly more upright and was rewarding with a white hot pain shooting through his chest, “God. Do you ever tire of the sound of your own fucking voice? I will reach into my chest, pull out one of the many fragments of ribs floating around in there, and stab you in the fucking eye with it if it’s going to net me a reprieve from your sanctimonious bullshit.” He resigned himself to staying laying down and sighed, “You know, fuckhead mcfuckstick, there are those of us capable of distinguishing between an animalistic monster that lacks sentience, and a perfectly harmless member of the supernatural community. I’m sorry you somehow failed Humanity 101”

This little shit really thought he talked too much? Kaden scoffed. “You should ask yourself that. I’m not the one ranting over there.” He started picking at the tape on his arm as the kid ranted the same bullshit grumbling he’d heard a million times before. More colorful than most, he’d give him that, but more of the same. “Fuckhead mcfuckstick, that’s a new one.” He shrugged and continued to try and peel the tape away so he could try and leave before things got any worse. “So how’d that distinguishing go for you? Broken ribs, you said? Sounds like you had a really wonderful encounter.”

“It seemed fitting, given that you are both a fuckhead, and a fuckstick, and I’m Irish so we add Mc to everything.” Ricky rolled his eyes and managed to find the controller for his bed, raising himself so he was sitting upright, “Well it went great. Since I very clearly distinguished that an asanbosam is not a contributing member of society and is instead an animalistic hunter. But these were things I knew before. But you know something about being an animalistic hunter don’t you?” His breath came short for a few moments and he stopped talking, breathing as deeply as he could and balling his fists to try to work through the pain, “We were ambushed. Broken ribs, punctured lung. But I lived so, that’s something. They’re not great ones to run into.”

Irish. Noted. Kaden was sure he’d have plenty of time to figure out what kind of monster he was sharing a room with. Unfortunately. “Asanbosam? Too bad no one was around to stake it. If only there had been an animalistic hunter nearby. Guess they were all at home.” Or stuck in a fucking hospital. “That or no one thought you were particularly worth saving. Shame, you clearly handled it so well on your own.” Still, sounded like the kid had it worse over there than he did. “You got lucky. Even with all that.” Not that he was glad he was okay. That wasn’t his concern at all. “Ran into one of those the other week, seem to be out in force with all the eternal darkness shit going on. Almost stole someone up into the trees.”

“I managed just fine. No deaths, so, that’s a win. It’s currently somewhere in the forest trying desperately to get the rosary I knotted around it’s ankle free. They’re particularly averse to religious iconography.” While most children had a childhood full of nursery rhymes, a solid portion of Ricky’s home education had been the various varieties of vampire that would inevitably try to attack him; he knew a fair few of them by heart. “Ah yes, there’s that good old Hunter “judge, jury, and executioner” mentality that we all know and love so much. Good to know whatever didn’t do a good enough job of killing you left you up on your high horse.” Ricky reached for his phone on the bedside table, scrolling through several texts in all capital letters before deciding that was a problem for later in the afternoon, “I always hated the idea of those fuckers.” He muttered, trying to find a more comfortable position that didn’t put pressure on, well, anything. “Iron teeth. Prehensile tail. They’re straight out of some dnd dungeon master’s nightmare. What the hell is a west African vampire doing in Maine, though?”

“Oh are they? Wow, gee, I never fucking knew that. Slayed my first vampire at age ten but wow, thanks for that riveting new information. Where would I be without you?” Kaden rolled his eyes. He just told the guy he’d encountered an asanbosam the other week, so he would’ve thought he wouldn’t go and explain the obvious to him but guess he was wrong. “Yeah well, sorry to disappoint you by my survival. But if you tell me where that fucking thing was I can probalby deal with once I’m out of here. Or get someone else to. You know, if you can lower yourself off that pedastool to cooperate with an animalistic hunter for two fucking minutes.” This was going to be a long goddamn day. God help him if was two. He wasn’t sure he could survive that. The tape on his arm must have been something akin to duct tape because it wasn’t budging. At this point he wasn’t sure he cared if Regan insisted he stayed the full two plus days. No way would he last that long. “They’re a pain in the ass. Species origin doesn’t really seem to be a barrier to entry in White Crest. I mean, for fuck sakes, the sky’s been dark for a few solid weeks now and you’re questioning how an African vampire got here? This place is fucking weird.”

Kaden’s abrasive voice was honestly on par with the subtle grinding and shifting of his ribs that he could still feel every time he breathed, “God. It just so fucking shocking to me that you’re top of seemingly everybody’s ‘kill him becore he kills us’ list. People skills like yours you should be in public relations. As to the where would you be? Fish food. We’ve gone over this. You’d be fish food.” Ricky let talk of killing a roommate fall silent as a nurse came in to administer meds and bring up his breakfast tray… which was seemingly full of things he didn’t want or couldn’t really eat. One insipid slice of ham seemed to be about the only thing he trusted, and he quickly ate it, keeping his face turned away from Kaden so there were no erstwhile glimpses of fangs, before pushing the tray and the rolling table away, “I don’t want the rest of that, if you’re feeling extra peckish.” He could feel the gentle wave of pain meds crashing on the beach of his mind and pulled his phone towards him, tapping out replies to texts as he listened to Kaden prattle on in the singularly sanctimonious way that he seemed to have cornered the fucking market on, “Yeah as long as there’s a fucking tree vamp wandering the forests near my home attacking members of my community I’m going to fucking question it. But in answer to the question that was sandwiched between the insults… it was the forests to the north of the Docks, bout half a mile before the bridge to Harris Island. It felled a tree right in front of my truck, blocked the road.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I thanked you already, alright.” Kaden bristled at the reminder that he was somewhat in debt to the other man for saving his life. Fucking hated that. Normally he made it easy enough for him to push that aside but then it would rear its ugly head. Still, he noted where that vampire was last seen; he’d be sure to kill it once he was out of there. Not long after, a second nurse came in to give Kaden his tray full of what he assumed was awful lumps of sadness pretending to be food. He wasn’t wrong. The food looked awful, alright, but that wasn’t what his eyes were focused on. No, his eyes went straight to the black and white striped shirt folded neatly with a beret on top and the red blood stains seeped into it. His eyes grew wide with confusion and his pulse picked up as he looked at the nurse. She gave absolutely no indication that anything was out of the ordinary and simply smiled and asked if there was anything else he needed. Kaden was stunned for a moment but it didn’t take long for him to flip the try, tossing it away from him the way someone might flick away a bug that had crawled onto them. He tried to quell the panic that was rising up in him. The nurse just looked confused, not like she was going to kill him on the spot. Which was good, but honestly he still wished he had a weapon in hand. Then she shook her head and looked around like she was unsure of what room she was in or what hat just happened. “Did I do that?” she asked, looking at the try and bending down to pick it up. “I’m sorry, I’ll bring you another tray. Is that your shirt?” Kaden shook his head. “Uh, no. Not-- No, that’s not my shirt. And you didn’t-- Sorry, I lost control of the…” He wanted to run more than ever, his hand reaching for the metal stand where the bags of fluids were hanging. It’d be a decent blunt weapon in a pinch. “Oh, that’s alright. I’ll be right back,” the nurse said, all the fallen food and tray in hand and left with a smile, like nothing ever happened. “Putain de merde, what the actual fuck?”

“It’s really hard to take the thanks seriously when it’s always tied to some sort of insane purge-and-purify human-centric rhetoric. Really sort of dulls the shine on that particular compliment.” He’d been focused on his phone and not on the speciesist fuck in the bed next to him when there was suddenly a ruckus that made him snap his head over to look at that side of the room. “What the absolute fuck you lunatic?” Ricky was so taken aback by the scene that he attempted to push himself out of bed to help clean it up, before bolts of white hot pain reminded him why he didn’t do that, “oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck oh fuck.” The nurse’s response to the whole ordeal was what really made him narrow his eyes, “What…. What the fuck is happening over there.” A tiny spot of red appeared on the bandage around his chest and started to grow fractionally, “Well that’s not good. But… that wasn’t normal. What the fuck landed you in here? I mean I had just assumed it was something along the lines of “finally got what was coming to him” but that was fucking weird.”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s--” he started. Kaden’s eyes darted back and forth between where the tray had just fallen and the door. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to slow his breath, bring his pulse back to normal. He let out a deep sigh, trying to rationalize that nothing else was coming in, no one else was there, it was probably safe. But Regan wasn’t back yet. What if something happened to her? Fuck. “Uh, shit. Don’t fucking laugh,” he told his current rommate as he rubbed his palms against the sheets, trying to dry the sweat off them. “I’m here cause I got stabbed by a fucking mime.” He thought about hitting the call button, get another nurse in here. But what if that didn’t help? What if that’s what brought another possessed person to send him more warnings and threats? Shit. He was more or less defenseless if someone came back for him. This is why he fucking hated hosptials (among all the other reasons). “So yeah, that striped shirt, it, uh-- Fuck.” He felt like such a paranoid idiot.

Ricky didn’t really think of himself as a cruel man. He tried to do right by his friends and his neighbors, be a good upstanding member of the community, and generally behave in a way that would make his mother proud of him; since she was his metric for what a good person should be. But the minute Kaden a) told him not to laugh and b) mentioned he’d gotten stabbed by a fucking mime, Ricky knew he was in a losing battle where all of his attempts to be good were going to falter in the face of a chance to ridicule his enemy. The laugh bubbled up inside of him and the piercing pain in his chest battled for dominance but he couldn’t help but throw his head back in laughter, shaking slightly in his bed, “Oh god…. Oh my fucking god…. I”m sorry I’m sorry… did you… did you… the great fucking hunter… bane of the supernatural… did you fucking get put in the hospital by a goddamn mime?!” His laugh turned into a painful cough and he bit down abruptly, a fang piercing his lip “ow fuck.” The laughter died down and he shook his head, “Ahh it feels good and at the same time fucking terrible to laugh. How… how did you manage to get stabbed by a fucking mime?! Was it even a real knife or was this just some A+ really top of the line pantomime that this fucker did?”

Well that was one way to quell the panic. Kaden could feel the anger rising up as the other man laughed. No, fucking cackled. “Shut it!” He looked down at the edge of the bed where his tray fell. Maybe there was still a shitty clementine or something he could chuck at Ricky’s fucking head. No luck. There was still a beret, though. It’d have to do. He scooped it up, scrunched it into a ball, and threw it across the room. He practically huffed as he stewed over on his bed, but a quick glance over to his roommate practically splitting his stitches and he saw it. It was subtle enough, but there was no denying those were fucking big ass fangs sticking out while he cackled. Well that answered that question he was pretty sure he already had the answer to: Monster. What kind, he’d figure out later. Couldn’t be undead if he had a heartbeat to monitor, he knew that much. And couldn’t be a wolf since he didn’t send all of Kaden’s hairs on edge. “Putain, yes it was a real fucking knife, connard! He was fucking possessed or cursed or some shit! Broke into the restaurant and just b-lined to stab me and wouldn’t fucking stop until he died.” It was goddamn karmic watching Ricky in pain over his laughter. Deserved at least that much.

“Oh no, Fuckstick McMimeChow, you have to deal with this fucking laughter because it is infinitely hilarious that a hunter got hospitalized by a motherfucking mime.” Ricky allowed the beret to hit him in the face if only because Kaden deserved at least that tiny victory, and as he held hit in his hands he took as subtle a smell of it as he could, but picked up nothing more than dollar store shampoo and dried blood, “Well… while you can make the argument that choosing ‘mime’ as your profession is in and of itself a curse… he was definitely human.” He threw the beret to the foot of Kaden’s bed, “but I’d wash your hands. There’s blood on that.” Pressing a slightly trembling hand to his chest; the pain was now greater than the mirth he’d received at Kaden’s attack, “That’s gotta be like… top three for shitty dinners. I mean I’ve had some bad fucking meals in my day and while I’ve had both a beer and a dinner roll thrown at me on separate occasions nobody’s actually stabbed me before. Did you kill this maniacal mime or did he just… I don’t know… suddenly expire after coming into contact with undiluted Blood of Douchebag.”

If Kaden had something else to throw, he would have. Instead all he could do was glower at the laughter. “Congrats, Detective pain in the ass, I figured that much out. Of course he was human. Problem was you didn’t see him. The look in his eye. It was like the lights were out but he was going through the motions anway. Really fucking determinedly, too.” At Ricky's evaluation of the beret, he looked down at his hands and decided to just wipe them off on the side of the bed again, in case there was any blood. “We barely got to wine let alone dinner. So yeah, I’d say so.” He sighed, thinking about the poor chardonnay that was the only thing that was murdered that night. What a waste. His head snapped to face his current roommate at his last comment. “Hey, I did not kill him! I mean I didn’t take it lying down, but I’m not a murderer, alright!”

“I’m really feeling like you’re not putting the same energy into this rivalry I am, Kaden. I come up with Fuckstick McMimeChow and you counter with Detective Pain in the ass? I’m a little hurt.” Ricky shot as withering a look as he could manage across the room, “Are you sure that was a curse/possession and not just… you know… people’s kneejerk reaction to being in your presence? I know I always get the urge to stab you repeatedly.” Watching Kaden wipe his hands on the bed he listened before chuffing a sigh of a laugh, “Wait wait wait… did you get stabbed by a mime on a fucking date? Jesus fucking Christ talk about just compounded shit luck. That’s just… woof. I don’t even have anything cutting or scathing for that… that’s just… that’s just rough.” Any pity he might have felt for the other man quickly evaporated however, “Oh yes. This old chestnut. I spend my life hunting things down but am somehow not a murderer. What is this… verse 78 now?”

“Sorry, what can I say. I don’t spend as much time thinking about you as you think about me.” Kaden rolled his eyes at the remark. “He came into the restaurant seemingly just to stab me. I know I’ve pisseed people off but that just doesn’t track, alright. I never saw the guy before. And yeah I was on a fucking date, alright. Shocking as it may be. Still not sure if it’s one of the worst dates I’ve been on.” He sighed at the remark. Of course, couldn’t get through one conversation without the bleeding heart bullshit. “Look you don’t have to fucking agree with me but don’t act like you don’t know where I stand. Murder is when you kill people and monsters aren’t people. Been over this.” There was a long stretch of silence and it seemed like they might be done snipping for the moment. Fine by him, but the whole place was too quiet. And he couldn’t bear to sit and watch this shitty infomercial. He waited a moment, maybe he could just sleep or something. But he wasn’t tired. “Hey, uh, I think you have the remote. Can you change the thing. The Price is Right is about to come on.”

“Jesus. And I thought my fucking love life was grim. You make me look like a fucking Casanova if that wasn’t one of your worst dates. Am I surprised? No. But still… blech. Poor woman. I’m just assuming you’re straight because I’m fervently praying you’re not gay. We don’t want you on our team. Please stay far the fuck away.” It was still a little surprising how robotic and immediate the return to the hunter party line was. There was almost a moment, for just the briefest of seconds, where Ricky had thought that they were actually on the road to… well whatever was one step above immediately homicidal. But all of that was swept away in an instant as they returned to ground zero. A zone which did not net Kaden any tv privileges. “Sorry.” He picked up the remote and plucked its batteries out, tossing the powerless shell to the other man, “Sharing is what people do.” He smiled a wide bright smile, every perfectly maintained fang shining in the horrible hospital lighting, “and I guess I just don’t qualify. Besides…. Price is Right with no Bob Barker? One of us is the monster here and it isn’t me.” This was going to be the longest hospital stay ever.

[sqoiler]

THe Director's cut for into the spoilersverse please! and a star too!

ok i’m gonna copy-paste the fic and like. comment on sections. i guess.

so the idea for this fic came from me realizing i have a bunch of alternate stephs. someone had asked me about a black canary steph and i liked the idea but didn’t want to do a full fic with her, so i was kind of like “hey! what if the stephs met each other!” and here we are. 

Lex Luthor made a multiverse machine, in order to mine Kryptonite from other dimensions. It was kinda a good idea, except the machine was faulty, and kept dragging other stuff from the multiverse into Lex’s earth as well. 

The League was dispatched to deal with the alternate versions of themselves that were brought into their Earth. Before he left, Batman assigned everyone in Gotham to guard the city from the various monsters and Rogues who roamed the city.

Spoiler had just finished a fight with a female version of Oswald Cobblepot and was headed to Nightwing to help him deal with a pair of mischievous twins, when the air in front of her opened up and a dark shaped tumbled through. Spoiler grabbed her bo-staff and dropped into a crouch, wary.

i think the “mischievous twins” thing was supposed to be a reference to the batman beyond dee dee twins. 

The shape sat up, and Spoiler absorbed the dark cape and pointy ears, the purple flashes on the suit, and the golden curls tumbling down her back.

Spoiler met her own eyes.

“Shit,” the other girl said, and she stood, brushing off her knees. Spoiler lowered her bo-staff and straightened, looking at herself curiously. “Did you pull me here?”

“No,” Spoiler said. “Lex Luthor made a machine….”

“Say no more,” the other girl said, and Spoiler noticed a yellow bat emblazoned on her chest. Her mouth fell open.

“Batgirl?” she gasped. She vaguely recognized the suit from the images of the other timeline that she’d seen, months ago.

“Yeah,” Batgirl said. “And you’re Spoiler. I haven’t been Spoiler in years, but you make it work. I like the half-mask, it’s nice.”

“Thanks,” Spoiler said, feeling a little ridiculous. “Sorry, I’ve never met an alternate version of myself before.”

“Me neither,” Batgirl admitted. “Although you always hear about it, don’t you.”

“Yeah,” Spoiler agreed. This was seriously surreal. Seeing herself–same height, a little longer hair, but standing so confidently? Spoiler blinked and told herself not to compare. They were different, after all. “So, Batgirl, huh? How’d…how’d you land that?”

“Cass gave it to me,” Batgirl said, shrugging. “When B died. But he’s back now, don’t worry.”

“Huh,” Spoiler said, and she remembered the mentions of Cass as Batgirl, too. “So where’s Babs, then?”

“You mean Babs is still Batgirl in your universe?” Batgirl asked, eyes wide. “This universe?” She gestured around them. Spoiler nodded.

when i made this fic, i didn’t INTEND to slam dunk rebirth/new 52, but that’s what happened. i figured when i started that i needed the two “canon” stephs, and then i made a list of the other stephs i wanted to include (some of which were nightwing!steph & robin!steph) but i had to whittle it down so there’d be the same amount of characters as spider-verse. not because this is a spider-verse au, but because i figured that the gag was already there in the title/concept, and it seemed like a good amount of characters–not too many, or too little. speaking of that, every character ROUGHLY corresponds to a spider-verse one: rebirth steph = miles, preboot steph = peter b. parker, cluekid = peni, dart = spider-ham, canary = gwen, and batman steph = spider noir. 

“Yeah, nobody else has ever been Batgirl,” Spoiler said.

“That’s so fucking weird,” Batgirl said. “Babs hasn’t been Batgirl since before I started out, and that was like five years ago. You mean she didn’t get shot?”

“She did, but there was an implant,” Spoiler said. “So she’s better.”

“Wow. That’s great but–how do you survive without Oracle?” Batgirl asked. “I want my universe back.”

Spoiler agreed with her, and wondered how to put her back. Should she take her to Batman? Hm. For all the multiverse shenanigans she’d heard about, she really didn’t know how to deal with them, what the protocol was.

“Let’s go find Drake,” Spoiler said. “He just got back from a multiverse adventure.”

“Drake? Like the rapper?”

“No, like Tim. My boyfriend? It’s his new code name.”

physically painful to put steph & tim together, but it had to be done.

“Tim picked his own fucking last name? That’s so stupid,” Batgirl said, and although Spoiler agreed, she didn’t say that. Spoiler checked her trackers, and found that Drake was across the city. She got out her grapple, and Batgirl did the same.

“Wait,” Batgirl called a minute later, when they were already in the air. They landed on the roof of the next building and Spoiler turned to her expectantly. “Did you say that he’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Spoiler said. “Is he not?”

“Not since like, middle school!” Batgirl cried, and Spoiler rolled her eyes.

“We don’t live in the same universe,” she reminded her. “Our Tims are probably totally different.”

“Yeah, right,” Batgirl said, and then there was a flash of purple light and Spoiler turned to face it. Two people appeared. One of them was in a purple bodysuit with a lightning bolt emblazoned on the chest, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail. The other was wearing fishnet tights and a leather jacket, an armored purple unitard under the jacket and a skirt over that. Her blonde hair was long, nearly to her elbows, and free-flowing. The new pair blinked at Spoiler and Batgirl.

“Holyfuckthat’susbutBats,” the girl with the lightning bolts said, her words tipping over each other, and Spoiler said, “Before today, I’d never been involved in multiverse shenanigans, and now this!”

She gestured at the duo.

“I’m Dart,” the speedster-Steph said, holding out a hand. Spoiler shook it, dumbfounded.

i felt like dart would be accepted as the most outlandish to the other stephs. she’s a meta, she has nothing to do with batman at all, she barely remembers living in gotham, etc, which is why in my head she was equivalent to spider-ham. like i feel like rebirth steph looked around at these other versions of herself like “sure, that makes sense”, but with dart she was like “what the fuck am i looking at?”

“I’m Canary,” the other Steph said. “Violet Canary, but generally they just call me Canary.”

“Like Red and Gold Canaries,” Dart said gleefully.

“….No,” Canary said. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Black Canary’s partners,” Dart said, rolling her eyes. “Cass and Jason.”

“Cass and Jason are Bats,” Batgirl said. “Not Canaries.”

“Not in my world,” Dart said. “What, in your universe is everyone a Bat?”

however weird all the other stephs found dart, though, she found them all equally weird. all these people we’re used to seeing as bats she saw as totally different things and having them all lumped together would be surreal to her. she grew up with barry as her dad, so learning that in these other universes some stephs a) stayed with arthur as their dad, or b) had some random rich guy she kinda knows as their dad was pretty weird. 

“Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian, Babs, Duke,” Spoiler rattled off.

“Duke?” Batgirl asked.

“Yeah, none of those people are Bats in my world,” Dart said. “Dick’s a Super, Cass and Jason are Canaries, Damian’s a Lantern, Tim’s a Martian, Duke’s a Wonder, and Babs is Aquagirl. Or, well, she used to be, before the accident.”

“See?” Batgirl demanded, gesturing at Spoiler.

“I didn’t give her the implant!” Spoiler said. “It happened before I even started crime-fighting!”

“She’s not Oracle in your universe?” Canary asked, looking wildly startled. Spoiler threw her hands up.

“Sorry that you guys landed in a garbage universe, I guess,” she said, and Dart patted her shoulder.

other stephs pushing my rebirth-sucks agenda. i regret nothing. 

“So this is your place, huh? Kinda nice,” she said. “You know, I’ve never really been in Gotham before? Not since I moved away, anyway.”

“Yeah, how the fuck are you a speedster?” Canary asked. “I’m not even a meta, and my job depends on me having superpowers.”

“I was going to ask the same question,” Batgirl said.

“I mean, basically the same way everyone else did,” Dart said. “I made Wally tell me how he did it, who made Barry tell him how he did it, who made Jay tell him how he did it. And, uh, the rest is history.”

“But why were you with Wally–? Never mind,” Spoiler said. “We really need to find Drake.”

At Dart and Canary’s confused looks, Batgirl said in a loud whisper, “As in Tim. That’s his new codename. And yeah, we know it’s stupid.”

“Thank you, Batgirl,” Spoiler said loudly. “Let’s just go, yeah?”

“Won’t Batman snipe me?” Dart asked, and Canary asked Batgirl for a spare grapple.

dart in her head: what the fuckkkkkkk

other stephs: calm down lol it’s just batman

“He’s out of town,” Spoiler said. “Just follow us.”

“Sure thing,” Dart said. “Wait, what’s your codename?”

“Spoiler,” Spoiler said. “You mean you were never…?”

“I used to be Kid Flash, but never ‘Spoiler’, whoever that is,” Dart said. “Sorry.”

“Even I was Spoiler, and I’m not even a Bat,” Canary said, and Dart said, “Okay, we get it, I’m a weirdo among Stephanies. Let’s go.”

They went, and Spoiler wondered if the other Bats were also dealing with themselves. She was leading the way, which was weird, because she never led any ways. Maybe if it was just her and Tim, or something.

Below her, Spoiler caught sight of a swarm of Clayfaces, and she had to stop. She yelled to the others to help her, and they dropped into the alley below.

Fighting with only herself as backup was weird, Spoiler thought. Batgirl threw batarangs that had stuff inside them. Dart sped around confusing the Clayfaces and Spoiler brought her bo-staff down hard on one, but it just sloshed through his arm. Oops.

“Cover your ears!” Canary yelled, and she threw a little device at a Clayface. It screamed, a loud noise that was what Spoiler assumed the Canary Cry sounded like. The Clayfaces barely reacted.

From above, a dark shape descended. Spoiler could’ve cried in relief, even though she was sure it wasn’t her own Batman.

Batman threw a device at a Clayface, which sent out some sort of signal that froze all the Clayfaces that weren’t already frozen by Batgirl’s batarangs. Icearangs? Whatever.

Quick work was made of the Clayfaces, and then Batman led the Stephs back into the air.

“You saved us!” Dart said.

“Yes,” Batman said. Spoiler inspected their new friend. This Batman was shorter than Bruce, and the bat across her chest was purple. The eyes on the cowl glowed with purple light, but it was still unmistakably Batman. She had on purple lipstick, and Spoiler spotted a scar near her mouth. She knew who this was.

“Holy shit,” Spoiler breathed, and beside her, the others seemed to come to the same conclusion. “You’re me.”

this moment right here, where steph looks at batman and it’s herself…? that’s probably why i even bothered writing this fic. 

“I would argue that I’m me,” Batman said, her mouth twisting into a smirk. “But yes, I am another Stephanie Wayne.”

“Wayne?” Spoiler and Batgirl cried at the same time.

as much as i love ignoring canon, in this fic i sort of had to go along with it, and i think this moment was kind of a good one.

“Fuck,” Dart said. “If that isn’t a weird last name to think of me having.”

“It makes sense that circumstances would differ,” Canary said. “Although in my universe, I was never truly a Bat.”

“But Wayne?” Spoiler said, waving her hands.

“Bruce actually adopted you?” Batgirl asked.

“No,” Batman said. “He left a portion of the estate to me in his will, and after I took up the mantle I changed my last name.”

“What the fuck,” Spoiler said, and Batgirl seemed of the same mind.

“Why are you panicking? It’s not that weird,” Dart said. “And I mean, clearly you all aren’t Stephanie Allen.”

“Allen?” Batgirl repeated, her voice an octave higher.

“Sweet Jesus,” Batman said, and Spoiler pushed that image aside for examining at a later time. “The pair of you never shed ‘Brown’, didn’t you.”

“No!” Spoiler cried.

“I’ve never even thought that was an option!” Batgirl said, sounding distraught.  

“I’ve just been daydreaming about the day Tim proposes so I can be anything besides a Brown,” Spoiler admitted.

“That’s disgusting,” Batman said. “You and Tim, really?”

“Why not?” Spoiler demanded. “Everyone seems to be of the same mind–what’s wrong with him?”

“I mean, besides that he’s an asshole?” Batgirl asked. “Uh, two words: Super. Girl.”

“I’ve never even met Supergirl,” Spoiler said, struggling to imagine herself dating Supergirl.

“Tim’s dead,” Batman said flatly. “But I agree with Batgirl’s assessment.”

“I think Supergirl and Babs have a thing going on?” Dart said. “Maybe? But anyway I’m more of a Wonder Girl kinda gal myself.”

“Ditto,” Canary said.

“Okay, I get it, you guys are hetero-shaming me,” Spoiler said, lifting her hands up. “For the record, I am bisexual.”

the idea of every steph besides the “real” steph being gay & having a girlfriend is comedy. gold. 

“Good,” Batman said.

“Although, speaking of my lovely boyfriend, I should probably tell him about this….Stephplosion,” Spoiler said, waving her arms at them. She put her finger to her ear to comm Drake, but then the air folded in on itself on a roof within Spoiler’s line of sight and she saw a flash of a familiar color that made her blood boil.

“Shit,” she said.

“What?” Dart asked. Spoiler pointed.

“There was some….orange over there,” she said significantly.

headcanon that steph hates all orange, but the specific shade of cluemaster orange especially. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Batgirl said. “If I have to deal with alternate Cluemasters I’m going to slaughter someone.”

“We need to check it out,” Batman said.

“I’m only agreeing since there’s five of us,” Canary said.

“I haven’t seen Arthur since I was eleven and I’m not about to start now,” Dart said, and Spoiler pushed down a surge of jealousy. Batman led the way, grabbing Dart to carry her across the gap.

They stopped at the edge of the roof and looked down at the kid–the kid!–who was sitting on the rooftop below them.

She had on an orange skirt and shirt with blue suspenders. Her tights–also orange–were ripped and she had on orange combat boots. Her bandana was pulled down from her face to rest around her neck, and her blonde hair was in tangles.

Spoiler stared her thirteen year old self in the face and thought about fainting.

“What the fuck,” Batgirl said flatly.

i feel like this moment sort of parallels/reflects the moment when spoiler first sees batman & recognizes it as herself. batman!steph is like a dream come true, and cluekid!spoiler her worst nightmare. both are the kind of dreams you didn’t know you even had until you encounter them, but yeah. holy shit that’s batman and that’s ME vs holy shit that’s cluekid and that’s ME

“Don’t hit me!” the kid cried, scrambling to her feet. She had braces, Spoiler noted dimly. “Who are you? What happened?”

“We’re in an alternate universe,” Batman said. “Something’s wrong with the multiverse.”

“Lex Luthor,” Spoiler provided, dazed. “Mining for Kryptonite. Batman–my Batman–is taking care of it.”

“Oh,” tiny, orange Steph said. “So…who are you, then?”

Batman pulled off her cowl. Her blonde hair was short and messy and her face was–old. Spoiler pegged her to be late twenties, probably. Huh. The other Stephs were all teenagers like Spoiler.

idk if you’ve read “touch the sky” but when steph first becomes batman and is a teenager she’s pretty fucked up, and i needed this batman steph to be cool & confident. she’s been batgirl for a while. again on batman & cluekid reflecting each other, the other stephs are all 17/18, and cluekid is younger while batman is older. 

“Stephanie,” Batman said, her real voice jarring after the modulated one was gone. “I’m you, okay?”

“In an alternate universe, I’m Batman?” the younger Steph whispered.

“Yes,” Batman said, her voice soft and kind of tender. Spoiler wondered what experience she had with kids. She realized that she could have a Robin. “And that’s Batgirl, and Dart, and Canary, and Spoiler. We’re all you.”

“Spoiler?” the younger Steph said, her eyes wide. “Holy fuck.”

“Language,” Batman said.

“I’m thirteen, not a child.” The younger Steph turned and pulled off her backpack. “Look!” She opened it and pulled out a homemade black bodysuit and hooded cape. “Here’s my Spoiler outfit.”

“I’m going to cry,” Batgirl said. Spoiler’s heart was doing something weird, looking at this tiny version of herself wearing Cluemaster orange.

“Oh, yeah, well. Being Spoiler is my biggest secret,” younger Steph said, putting her costume back away.

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” Dart asked.

“Well,” Steph said, drawing out the word. “I thought Dad might, like, kill me if I didn’t say yes when he asked, so I’m Cluekid by day and Spoiler at night. But, uh, I’m working on bringing down the empire from the inside.”

“Empire?” Spoiler repeated.

“Yeah, Dad’s criminal empire,” Cluekid said. “I’m taking it down.”

“Criminal empire?” Batgirl said, sounding shocked.

if all the stephs got transported to cluekid’s world instead, they’d be looking around like “THIS IS THE BAD PLACE!!!!!”

“By yourself?” Batman asked, putting her cowl back on. Cluekid pulled up her bandana.

“Yeah, it’s like…someone’s gotta do it, right?”

“Was anyone else’s Cluemaster, like, vaguely incompentent at best?” Batgirl asked, and Spoiler and Canary rose their hands. “Criminal empire, really?”

“It’s super fun that you guys weren’t Cluekid, but leave me alone about it,” Cluekid said. “My dad’s the real deal.”

“Then what’s your plan for when he finds out you betrayed him?” Batman asked. Cluekid blinked slowly.

“Well,” she said, then she stopped.

“You don’t have a plan,” Dart said knowingly. “I can relate.”

“No, she does,” Batman said, horrified.

“You’re just gonna let yourself die?” Spoiler asked. Cluekid shrugged, her arms going up past her head.

“If I have to!” she cried. “Someone’s gotta take him down and I’m the only one who can!”

cluekid is actually planning on faking her own death at this time, but she doesn’t have all the details worked out yet. 

“Dying’s no big D,” Batgirl said. “I do it all the time.”

Everyone turned to face her.

“I mean, once, but that’s like, more than most people do it,” she amended, and Spoiler shook her head.

i think batman!steph comes from a mix of preboot/rebirth, so she’s probably died as well

“Jesus christ,” she said. “I have to get you guys out of here. I’m going to call Drake, and we’re going to find out how to return you guys. Except maybe Cluekid, cause your universe sucks.”

spoiler just wants a chance to call another universe garbage, for a change.

“Yeah, well, your universe has people leaking into it, so it can’t be all that great,” Cluekid shot back, and Spoiler had to admit she had a point.

zing, now everyone’s made fun of rebirth.

While they grappled towards the other end of town, Batman carrying Cluekid and Dart running below them, Spoiler put in a call.

“Batman,” she said. “I have five alternate versions of myself with me.”

“Five Spoilers?” her own Batman asked, his voice gruff.

bruce instantly: [internal screaming]

“Five Stephanies,” she corrected. “A Batgirl, a speedster, a Canary, a kid, and, well. A Batman.”

“Interesting,” Batman said. “Luthor has been apprehended and once I turn off the machine, everyone should return to normal.”

“Okay,” Spoiler said, and Batman disconnected. Spoiler stopped grappling and the group gathered around her. “According to my Batman, you guys should just…go back soon.”

this fic was about conversations between stephanies, not action, which is why i feel like the end is sort of anti-climactic, but whatever. it needed to end, and it did

“It’s been nice getting to know you,” Canary said. “Although really weird.”

“Agreed,” Dart said. “I can’t imagine being a Bat.”

“I wish that would happen to me,” Cluekid said. “But…”

“It’ll be okay, kiddo,” Batman said.

“Hey,” Spoiler said. “Batman, do you have a Robin? You’re pretty good with kids.”

“Yeah,” Batman said, smiling. “Her name is Carrie.”

writing this fic made me think of a “touch the sky” sequel where steph works through the deaths of her siblings and takes in a new robin. we’ll see.

“Hell yeah,” Batgirl said, raising her hand for a fistbump. Batman obliged, and from the corner of her eye Spoiler saw the universe begin folding in on itself.

“Damn, this is me,” Dart said, looking at the wrinkle in the air. It was tied to her leg, so not a difficult conclusion to make. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you ladies. I wish all of you every success–especially you, Lil Steph.”

“Thanks,” Cluekid said, and Spoiler nodded at Dart before she vanished in a puff of purple lightning.

“I’m going to turn on my earplugs,” Canary said. “Who knows what’ll happen when I get back–but anyway, I’m going to be in the dark, hearing-wise.”

“Okay,” Spoiler said, a little confused, and Canary gave everyone a smile.

“It’s been real,” she said, and then she turned on her earplugs. She signed something at them–Spoiler knew only a few signs and couldn’t keep up. Batgirl nodded thoughtfully.

“What’d she say?” Spoiler asked.

“Oh, I have no clue,” Batgirl said. “Come to think of it, the signs me and Cass use aren’t strictly ‘real’ sign language.”

“She said that she turns off her hearing so it’s not damaged by the canary cry,” Batman said. Everyone looked at her. “What? My brother was mute and he had to talk somehow.”

tossed up on the “was” vs “is”, but i wanted damian to get better and i hoped that if any diehard “touch the sky” fans were reading this, they’d see that yeah, he does get better & talk again.

“Brother?” Spoiler repeated, and Batman said, “Damian.”

Damian, mute?

Damian, Steph’s brother?

“I’m leaving,” Canary said loudly, and they turned to face her. She was vanishing just like Dart, and she gave a little wave, then pointed at Batman, who was also disappearing.

“Goodbye,” Batman said, and then she and Canary were gone, leaving Spoiler with Batgirl and Cluekid.

“I’m gonna be real with you guys,” Cluekid said. “I know it’s only been like two minutes but seeing myself, older and with a place in the world….it’s pretty inspiring to think that in another universe I grow up to be Batman.”

“Maybe you still can,” Spoiler suggested, thinking that she didn’t like the idea of this tiny version of herself planning her own death.

“I don’t think so,” Cluekid said, smiling sadly.

“I’ve been through a lot of shit,” Batgirl said. “I’ve even died before. You can’t let any of that stop you, okay? You just gotta push through it.”

“Keep on coming back,” Spoiler said.

“However long it takes,” Batgirl said. Cluekid blinked, tears welling in her eyes, and then she reached for Spoiler and Batgirl, tugging them both into a hug.

i feel like “never give up” is kind of steph’s motto, and that’s universal among stephs. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Spoiler said, ruffling her hair, and then Cluekid was gone.

“Damn,” Batgirl said. “She says she’s inspired by us, but I’m inspired by her. She’s so brave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Spoiler said, her throat sort of rough. “Geez.”

“Well, it’s my turn next,” Batgirl said. “So, uh. Bye? I guess.”

“Have fun in your universe,” Spoiler said. “With Oracle and Supergirl.”

“Oh, I absolutely will,” Batgirl said. “Have fun with….Drake. Seriously, we give you shit, but if he’s good for you–”

“He is,” Spoiler said, trying not to think of their breakups.

“Then that’s all there is to it, isn’t it,” Batgirl said. She grinned, and the air behind her began to fold. “Oh, what timing!”

“Goodbye, Batgirl,” Spoiler said.

“Bye, Spoiler,” Batgirl said. “You know, it’s nice to see that somewhere out there, we’re still in the mantle we created.”

“And it’s nice to see that we’re in a mantle given to us,” Spoiler said, and Batgirl grinned.

“Hell yeah it is,” she said, and then she was gone, and Spoiler was left alone.

She sighed, and kept moving.

spoiler & batgirl are so similar that of course they kinda got along the best….i think canary was supposed to be kind of distant like “oh that’s kinda weird” and then dart was “oh that’s SUPER weird” and then cluekid was “oh my god is she okay” and then batman more like “wow! #afraid to ask how the mantle got passed down to YOU!”