#My only in person help was my dad who hadn’t built a computer since possibly the 90s

[dustypantsfortherain]

Me baby talking my computer (in my head), “You have a Windows Operating System inside you, yes, it came on a disk, it cost over a hundred bucks.”

[shes-an-oddbird]

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary -  A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

So excited about this little challenge for myself. 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Holiday prompts and a dozen or more characters I love and miss. Each chapter should spot light a different character or relationship and the stories become more and more intertwined (think Valentine's Day). 

Chapter 1 - Decorating for Christmas

Prompt - Decorating for Christmas Relationship - Philindaisy Family Feels POV - Coulson

There was something magical about the River’s End Mall at Christmas time. The largest mall in the state and ideally suited for events all year round but an absolute must see come the holiday season. A massive tree, an indoor ice rink, sleighrides outside, lights, decorations and of course Santa himself.

All of this was made possible by the efforts of the mall’s event coordinator, Melinda May, who upon meeting, wouldn’t be pegged as the festive type. It would however be assumed that she was the type to be exceptionally good at her job. Whatever that job may be. She was an excellent event coordinator because she got things done. So, when it comes to Christmas, she hires the best.

A man who brings a winter wonderland to life within the walls of the mall.

A man who believes in putting the spirit back in the holidays, even in the most commercial of locations.

A man who loves a good suit, red or otherwise.

A man by the name of Phil Coulson.

And on occasion, Santa Clause.

“If you don’t lay off the cookies, you’re not going to need the pillow to stuff your suit this year.” Phil smiles as Melinda appears next to him. He’s got a mouth full of crumbs and can’t get his own quip out before she’s taken in the hundreds of decorations they’ve brought in. “You’re out doing yourself this year.”

He swallows down the last of the cookie and grabs a few more off the tray that was set out for the workers and volunteers. “We got so much publicity last year, national news remember, can’t disappoint now.”

“I see and when does the tree arrive?”

“It’s here, they’re trying to figure out how to get it through the door.”

Her eyes snap to his, “Coulson, we’ve driven trucks into the mall, exactly how big is this tree?”

“Could be worse, Rockefeller Center already had dibs on my first pick.”

May rolls her eyes at him but he knows it’s all for show. When May first came to him twenty-five years ago, inquiring about setting up a Santa Experience at the mall he knew she’d accept nothing less than the best and every year it got a little bigger and a little better. It had been great publicity for his business, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to impress her just a little bit.

“When do my elves arrive?” His own crew of employees handled most of the setup, installing the ice rink, hanging decorations from the balcony, setting up the tree, but over time the mall had acquired a group of volunteers who came in to help hang ornaments and set up activity tables.

“Daisy and the other volunteers should be here shortly.” Phil nods and watches as May moves around the towers of boxes, inspecting the contents of each of them.

“We’ve got everything, enough ornaments to coat a forest, the undecorated ones for the activity tables arrived yesterday, we’re also on 100% low energy LED lights this year.” May nods along but clearly isn’t paying much attention.

“We’ve got an excellent wrapping paper source this year too, lots of variety, different colors.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Came up with a tag line for the print advertisements, Christmas at River’s End Mall, it’s a Magical Place.”

“Coulson.”

“I think the box you’re looking for is over here.” Finally with her attention back, he leads her over to a foldout table with a small box sitting at the edge. May peers inside to see it full of handmade ornaments and a small spark appears in her eyes. Shortly after they had started the Santa Experience at the mall May had partnered with the local orphanage to bring in the kids in to do crafts and receive gifts. It was that first year that they had met Daisy, an unlucky but optimistic little girl and accidently bonded with May. While most of the kids took their crafts home to decorate as best they could for Christmas, Daisy always gave hers to the grumpy coordinator. May would then hang the decorations on the large tree. He still remembers the look on Daisy’s face when she came back the second year and saw her messy glitter ornament front and center. Phil had watched the pair get closer every year from then on and to be honest he knows he’s gotten attached too.

“I know you’re not Santa you know.” She says, her tiny arms crossed and messy dark hair obscuring her face.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know if that means she doesn’t believe in Santa at all or just knows that he’s not the real thing.

She leans against the arm of his chair. “Yeah, but I won’t tell the other kids.”

“Well I appreciate that; do you still want to tell me what you want for Christmas?” He always played Santa with the kids from the orphanage. He handled it better than his other employees when all these kids ever asked for was a family.

“I don’t really want anything.” She’s admiring the tree they’re situated in front of, he can see the lights sparkling in her wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but can I hang out for a minute anyways?” She asks, still distracted.

He smiles. “Of course.”

Every year it was the same with Daisy. She wouldn’t ask for anything, just go through the line for show and sit with him and stare at the lights when it was her turn. He found himself looking forward to the few minutes they shared together but then one year she wasn’t there. He had gone to May immediately. His friend, he had thought had been in a bad mood since the start of the holiday season, but that day she seemed particularly distant. “No Daisy this year, was she adopted?” He asks. Several little kids look up at him with curious eyes.

After ensuring all the activity tables were covered, May gestures for him to follow her a few steps away. “They’ve placed her with a foster family.”

“Well that’s good, a step in the right direction.” May says nothing. “But you don’t sound convinced.” He jokes.

“Its happened a couple of times before, they always send her back.”

This shocks him. Daisy was such an easy kid. Didn’t ask for anything, helped with the younger children, “she seems like such a good kid.”

“She is, just not a good fit, that’s what Sister Anne said.”

“Maybe this time will be different.”

“Maybe.”

Coulson knows somethings up. He’s gotten pretty good a reading May over the years. “You don’t seem too thrilled about that possibility.”

“That little girl deserves some love and support in her life, if she’s with a family that will give her that then I’m ecstatic.”

Daisy was back the next year. Things hadn’t worked out well with her foster family and she had been sent back to the orphanage shortly after the new year. On the plus side May seemed merrier than she had the past year, even if it was just slightly.

When Daisy comes through the line this time she doesn’t sit on the arm of the chair and stare at the lights and she doesn’t mock him about his crush on May. Daisy was a very perceptive child. Instead she shifts uncomfortably and whispers, “I think I know what I want this year.”

“Really?” Phil perks up. Whatever this kid wants he’s prepared to make it happen for her. He’ll talk to May and they’ll make it happen. A pony, a car, whatever.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll get it.”

“Oh no? Well I know you know I’m not really Santa, but I could still work a little magic.”

Daisy still doesn’t give it up but her eyes that normally stare at the sparkling lights are directed now at the activity table where May is helping some of the younger kids glue cotton balls to Santa hats.

“She’s teaching me to ice skate.”

“Yeah?” This surprises him if only just a little. He had found out not long after they first installed the indoor ice rink that she was an excellent skater but he’d yet to see her set foot on the ice.

“She’d be a good mom, I think.”

So that was it. “That is a pretty big request.”

“I didn’t say – “ She protests.

“I know, but also, I know.” Daisy gives him a small smile before it fell back to a frown. “Look,” he said softly, taking her hands, “I don’t know if I can make that happen but I do know that she cares a lot about you and so do I, it makes me really happy that you shared that with me.”

“Thank you Coul – um, Santa.”

“COULSON!” Phil is jarred from his thoughts in time to see Daisy spiriting up to him. She’s grown now into a young woman, with a passion for computer science and a close batch of misfit friends who she’s built a family out of. Its no longer just her and May and occasionally himself at the Christmas dinner table.

“Long time no see, how come you never visit anymore?” He pulls her in to a tight hug. Its been too long.

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a busy working adult now.”

“All lies, you’re ten years old in my mind.” He steps back, “you’ve got time to help me decorate though?”

She beams back at him. “Always, but uh, where is the tree?”

Yeah he should probably check on that. He turns to May, who at some point during his reminiscing had answered her phone. “They just got it through the doors, Coulson I swear if this doesn’t fit – “

“I will personally go chop down a smaller one,” he promises. “You try to give her the best and she complains about it.”

“I’m not complaining I’m being rational; someone is going to have to take care of this tree.”

“I have been doing this for twenty-five years and never once had a tree die on me.”

“1999, 2007, 2013, last year – “

“Last years was sick, what did you want me to do put it out of the street, have you never seen a Charlie Brown Christmas.”

“Alright mom and dad," Daisy interrupts, "let’s just call this one a draw, its sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She looks eagerly at May and he knows she wants something. “And speaking of work, I brought my roommate, Jemma, you remember her, right?”

“She's the expert gift wrapper you mentioned?”

“Can she interview with you?”

“These aren’t really convenient hours, she knows that right?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically. “She does, absolutely does, her labs have her working weird hours, late nights and early mornings, so this should be perfect for her.”

May nods in agreement. “Sounds great, let’s go.” Daisy does a short victory jig and begins to lead the way. May starts to follow but stops suddenly. “Coulson - "

“Yes?”

“The Tree.”

“I’ll ready the ax, Melinda.” She smiles a genuine smile and his heart thuds like he’d a kid again. Maybe this would be the year. Maybe.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 8

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: The Parentification Computation

Notes:  Luka’s characterization is somewhat based on a conversation with some folks  about the possibility of Luka having Atlas personality due to parentification, which is basically the impact when a child has to act as a parent, sometimes to their own parent but also to their siblings.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

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Adrien had felt a bit guilty when he took advantage of the rush to return to the suite to disappear to transform—he knew they’d worry, since the Akuma was likely going to look for him, but he had to help Ladybug defeat it.

The Akuma sucked the color and joy out of whatever it touched, the power turning into clothing and accessories that resembled Luka’s. It made an odd amount of sense, if the Akuma was a fan upset by Adrien’s fake relationship. So far it had leather pants, ornate boots, a leather jacket, kohl around its eyes, black fingernails, and hair that was black with… rainbow tips?

As Chat Noir got closer, he realized he recognized the person under all that.

“Wayhem?”

The Akuma turned toward him, face contorted in a sneer. “That’s Fade-Out to you! No one else can be happy until I am! Give me your Miraculous!”

He’d figured it was a fan, but had never imagined Wayhem would be the one, that he’d harbored feelings like that for Adrien. He’d been completely blind to it. What else had he been blind to?

Chat barely dodged when Fade-Out tried to grab him, then was pulled out of danger by Ladybug’s yoyo.

“I think the Akuma is in his glove,” she said as Fade-Out tried to find a way up to them.

When Chat peered, he could see on his right hand was a black fingerless motorcycle glove; embossed on the back was Adrien’s face. It was probably the face from his life-size cardboard cut-out he’d signed for Wayhem after he’d acted as Adrien’s body-double when Gorilla was Akumatized.

“So I need to let him get close enough to touch me, make sure I hit the glove.”

Ladybug frowned. “It’s too risky. Let’s see what we get with Lucky Charm!”

A red-and-black postless pillory fell into her arms, and she grimaced at it.

“I guess we need to immobilize him?” Chat asked.

Ladybug sighed. “You know my Lucky Charms aren’t that simple, chaton.”

She glanced around, seemingly looking for an answer, then pointed at a road sign, the one to rue du Chat-qui-Pêche, the smallest street in Paris—or, rather, the narrowest.

“The pillory will just barely fit in there, and with the drainpipes…”

Chat grinned. “Shall we pillory an Akuma, m’Lady?”

It took less than a minute of cat puns to get Fade-Out chasing him, and the moment the Akuma was in the alley, Ladybug snapped the pillory around his neck. His forward motion was halted so abruptly when it caught on a drainpipe that he lost his feet and wound up with his hands splayed on the pavement. Chat was able to Cataclysm the glove quickly and with no danger.

Then it was just a matter of Ladybug purifying the Akuma, unlatching the pillory, and tossing it in the air to release the Miraculous Cure, and Wayhem was on his hands and knees in the tiny street.

Once they’d fist-bumped, Chat turned her way. “I’ll handle the young man—I’ve more time before I detransform.”

Ladybug smiled and nodded, then yoyoed away.

Wayhem was staring up at him in dawning horror. “Oh, no. I was Akumatized?”

Chat offered him a hand. “Yeah. You okay?”

Once on his feet, Wayhem leaned against the wall with a sigh. “It’s so dumb. I was just a little jealous. I didn’t— Well, there’s this guy who’s a model, Adrien Agreste?”

He nodded, figuring he was expected to.

“Well, I was a ridiculous fanboy for a while, and kinda obsessive, and then he asked for my help when he was targeted by an Akuma. We became friends. And he… well, he just announced he has a boyfriend.”

Wayhem winced, rubbing his neck, his expression embarrassed.

“I didn’t even know… that was an option.”

Chat patted his shoulder; he felt badly that Wayhem had gotten caught up in this, but it was over and done with—and Adrien wouldn’t go back and fake-date Lila even knowing this.

“Honestly, maybe it wasn’t, though. You don’t know how he met his boyfriend or the circumstances,” he finally offered.

“I know.” Wayhem sighed. “It was just a moment of disappointment, you know?”

“And Hawkass took advantage.” Chat offered him a smile. “Just try to be happy for your friend, then. There’s someone out there for you.”

That got a little smile, just as the Miraculous beeped at him.

“That’s my cue to skiddoo!”

He gave the boy a little salute and was gratified when he got the same back, then he vaulted away, back toward the hotel.

Once he found a place to detransform and give Plagg some cheese, he snuck in and back to the suite, only to find Luka in the midst of pacing, Marinette and Penny looking concerned, and Jagged looking a bit irate.

When Luka saw him, he immediately stopped, and something in the older boy’s body language eased. It struck Adrien suddenly that Luka had been worried, something he hadn’t figured would happen.

“Sorry, wound up getting stuck downstairs. Figured I’d stay put until the Ladyblog put out the all clear.”

“Same thing happened to me,” Marinette offered.

Luka dragged his fingers through his hair. “It’s fine. These things happen.”

Jagged snorted. “You’re not fine, kid. You’re a bloody mess. Practically chewed all the polish off his nails. It was like when Penny misplaces me, only worse.”

“I don’t misplace you,” she muttered. “You wander off and terrorize people with Fang.”

A glance at Luka’s nails confirmed Jagged’s words, though. Most of his black nailpolish was gone.

“Oh. Well, we can get the spa folks up again. I kind of want mine done, too,” Adrien commented.

Luka frowned, then nodded. “Sorry… I just… I’m responsible for Juleka, and you both went missing, and the Akuma attack, and…”

Marinette stood, putting a hand on his arm. “Hey. You’re not responsible for me, or for Adrien.”

“But I’m his boyfriend now.”

Adrien blinked. “Is that how it works?”

Maybe it was—sometimes in movies and TV shows that was how it worked.

“No.” Penny’s voice was almost deadly. “That’s not how it works. You’re not his caregiver.”

Luka looked uncertain, like he was ready to argue.

Jagged scowled at him. “Nope, kid. I know Anarka’s a free spirit, but you’re not responsible for the world.”

Marinette offered Luka a hesitant smile. “You’ve got an independent boyfriend, Luka.”

The smile Luka attempted back looked very feeble.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Luka,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his head anxiously. “Most of the time my father keeps me shut in my room and forgets about me. So I didn’t think to let you guys know… but I didn’t have my phone on me, either. Whoops.”

Jagged turned the scowl on Adrien. “Okay, that’s gotta be addressed, too. So not okay. Social media blitz.”

Penny gestured to the computer. “You have a picture to post, anyway. Might as well fire some shots while you’re at it.”

Marinette and Luka exchanged a dark look, and then Luka drew himself up. “Okay. Your dad’s an asshole. Let’s air some dirty laundry?”

Adrien grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[spaceskam]

the kissing booth (5)

The end! Thank you guys for reading all of the stuff I’ve written, I really appreciate it ❤️️

ao3

Alex didn't stop to catch his breath until he'd run all the way to the parking lot. 

He ran to his dad’s truck that he’d borrowed to get the fundraiser, bracing himself against the door. His eyes closed and he tried really hard not to think about what just happened. Actually, who was he kidding? That’s all he could think about. Soft lips, soft hair, hard something else. 

Alex Manes had never kissed a man before in his life and now he just fucking went all in. After watching Michael for years, he saw his chance and he fucking took it. How could he stop thinking about it?

Alex touched his lips and had to take a deep breath to stop himself from running back. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe, until his lips were numb, until he tasted his name on Michael's tongue.

It was insanity, really. Ever since he'd seen Isobel's post advertising that Michael would be here doing a kissing booth, Alex had been planning. He never thought he'd actually go through with it, though. He thought it was all fake plans that he'd never do like how he could commit the perfect murder or successfully steal from Walmart. But no. He'd heard Isobel say he was taking a break, he saw Isobel leave the booth, and he saw his opportunity.

But now he dealt with the possibility that Michael might know who he was. Or, worse, that he didn't know. That Michael had just kissed a perfect stranger like the world was ending and Alex was the only one who had all the pieces of the puzzle. 

What the fuck had he just done?

-

“Sorry.”

Alex stared, partially frozen in shock as the one and only Michael Guerin stood in front of him. He waited in baited silence for what felt like an eternity as he waited for Michael to point out that he was the one who kissed him, to tease him for it. Instead, Michael looked him up and down. His eyes hovered on the school’s emblem on his chest and Alex watched his smirk grow into place.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Michael asked. Alex felt his heart plummet, though he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t really want Michael to know it was him. Or maybe he did. He decided he would hate either option because he regretted doing it. Why couldn’t he get his first real kiss like any other guy? Ask someone out, go on a date, kiss them at their doorstep, that kind of stuff. Why did he have to be a creep?

“Uh… No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s too bad,” Michael said. That caught Alex off guard. Maybe Michael had noticed him around. 

“Right, well… See you around, I guess,” Alex fumbled out, quickly exiting himself from the situation before he brutally embarrassed himself. 

Alex stood outside with his drink and tried his best to calm down. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to be so stupid? More importantly, why couldn’t he kiss him again when he wasn’t blindfolded?

“Hey, Alex!”

Alex looked up to see cheerleader Lucy Geraldo jogging over to him. She was pretty, he could admit that, but she wasn’t his type. She was missing a pretty crucial piece of identity to fit his type. However, that didn’t stop her or her friends from flirting with him. Maybe it was his fault. He had made out with Hannah Kay at that party sophomore year. That was what had confirmed to him that he was super gay. It also confirmed to everyone else that he was absolutely not.

“I was just thinking about you,” she said, smiling as she pulled her thick hair over her shoulder, “I was wondering if you were going to Hannah’s party this weekend?”

Alex gave a tight smile and chose a sturdy lie. “Nah, I have to study.”

“Oh,” she pouted, “Maybe we can hang out some other time?” 

“Maybe,” he said. She smiled and waved at him and he hauled ass to the Crashdown. 

Which would’ve been great if he didn’t run into Michael again. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he knew Michael had a thing going on with Rosa for years now, but it felt like an extra layer of bullshit. Couldn’t he just enjoy his misery in peace?

“I’m sorry, he flirts with everything that has a pulse,” Liz huffed after Michael left.

“It’s fine,” Alex said, shrugging his shoulders. He thought about coming out to Liz if only so he could have someone to talk to about it. He was resigned to his fantasies and they were becoming unbearable, but he didn’t know how to begin. “You think they’re hooking up?”

“Who, Michael and Rosa? Absolutely not,” Liz laughed. Alex raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say much about what’s going on because it’s not my place, but they’re just friends.”

Alex firmly decided he liked the idea of staying in denial that Michael Guerin wasn’t sleeping around like everyone said.

“Okay.”

-

Alex left the library with a smile on his face and the desire to jump and scream.

He just flirted with a guy. Like, a guy who was right there and could see his face and flirted back. It was easy. Michael was interested. Or, he at least seemed so. Alex wasn’t sure why exactly someone like that would be interested in someone like him. Maybe he was just flirting because he could.

It didn’t matter. Alex was happy. He felt confident. That was so rare. Suddenly, he was really tired of hiding.

Alex made his way to the Crashdown, still hyper and high on the fact that a whole ass man had flirted with him. He even let himself think that maybe Michael would’ve kissed him if he saw his face. Hell, maybe Michael even had been watching him too. 

“Liz, can I talk to you?” he asked. She looked up from to him and then over to her dad who waved her onto her break. The two of them walked to the back of the cafe and sat in a booth. He looked at her and, for the first time, said it out loud. “I’m gay.”

Liz’s eyes widened and her head moved back in shock. “Really?”

“Yes,” Alex breathed, smiling, “I’m gay. But you’re the first person I’ve told, so please don’t say anything just yet.”

“Of course I won’t say anything, oh my god, I’m so glad you told me,” Liz said, the shock quickly being replaced with a smile, “I-I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, I just needed to say it,” he told her. He left out the part that he was super excited because he just flirted with a boy in public.

“That makes sense. I’m proud of you,” she said. He smiled wider.

This felt good.

-

Alex flirted with Michael the next time he saw him at Bean Me Up. He couldn’t help himself. 

He felt those beautiful eyes on him the entire time and he didn’t know how he’d ever gone without feeling them. He was more than convinced now that Michael had noticed him before that first time they spoke. He was just too smooth, too cool, too perfect. He had to have prepared.

He was high on life, on being out, on being noticed.

-

“How long has he been sitting there?”

“Four hours.”

“Jesus Christ, why didn’t you call me?”

“My phone is dead!”

Rosa cursed under her breath and made her way to Michael Guerin. Alex had been watching Michael since he’d been there for only about ten minutes. He’d been methodically shooting the same four rubber bands into the same cup over and over and over. He was wearing what seemed to be four layers of clothes and his eyes were empty. It was the most out of it Alex had ever seen a person. It was particularly weird to see him like that. He was always so full of life, so present. Alex didn’t understand.

Rosa hugged him and brought him food. Every movement Michael made was in slow motion, still seeming not all there. Alex tried to imagine a time he felt like that, but he couldn’t. Michael seemed to be completely removed from himself.

“Can you wash his clothes when you’re done down here?” Rosa asked Liz who nodded.

“Hey, Rosa, wait,” Alex said before he could stop himself, “What’s going on?”

Rosa sighed and clearly seemed to be debating what she should say or shouldn’t say. She settled on, “He’s just not himself right now.”

Sometime in between it all, Michael looked up and made eye contact. Usually, he would smile. Usually, he would say something witty. Today he seemed to not even register that he made eye contact.

“Liz,” Alex prodded after Rosa had dragged Michael upstairs, “What’s that all about?”

“I shouldn’t say,” Liz hesitated.

“I wanna help though,” Alex nearly whined. 

Liz waited a moment and looked around a few times before leaning in close. 

“He kinda doesn’t have a place to live,” she said softly. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and sat back. How did someone like that not have a place to live?

Whenever Alex thought of the word homeless, he imagined people on the street who hadn’t bathed in years. He imagined old men with beards and shopping carts. He imagined… anything but a high schooler who had a truck and friends and a sexy smile. It didn’t compute.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said. Liz just gave a sad little smile.

“I don’t know much. I just know he’s been through the foster system and it didn’t go well,” she said. Alex nodded.

The next few days Alex spent padding out his shed. It was already pretty set for someone to stay there, but he decided to add another, thicker blanket and made sure everything was clean.

For once, he had nothing by confidence as he went to talk to Michael. This wasn’t about him this time.

-

“Who do you think carved those initials?”

Alex tilted his head as he took in the heart that had “H.R. + K.C. ‘54” written inside it. Ever since he’d found this time, he’d brainstormed on who those two could’ve possibly been and why they spent their time in the shed. He always came up with a different story. A married couple who built it, a ten-year-old girl in love with her neighbor, a boy who was about to go to war and wanted to make sure there was something permanent, an elderly couple who wanted to reminisce. 

“I don’t know. Could be anyone,” Alex said. Michael hummed softly which easily dragged Alex’s attention onto him. He was laying in bed, a blanket draped around him. He looked comfortable and like he was meant to be there. It made Alex’s heart skip a beat.

Things with Michael felt so comfortable. They’d been doing this for almost a month now, hanging out alone and just being. He could say anything without fear and so could Michael. He’d gotten to know him in a way he hadn’t expected and he liked him even more now. He liked the way he trusted him, he liked the way he joked around, he liked the way he had told Alex things that seemed so heavy and yet he made them seem light. Hell, he even liked the way he didn’t really flirt anymore. He was real around him. Mask off.

Fuck, Alex was in deep.

“Maybe it stands for Henry Rollins and Kevin Costner,” Michael began softly. Alex snorted, but let him continue. “Star-crossed lovers who couldn’t be seen with each other during the day, so instead they came here at night to be together.”

“Romantic,” Alex said.

“Very.”

Alex stayed in there for a little while longer, laying on the floor and thinking about what his life had become. He wasn’t sure how he’d become the type of person to provide food and shelter and warmth. He liked being that person. He liked being that person for Michael.

When he looked over to him, he saw that he was sound asleep. He was gorgeous when he slept. Well, he was gorgeous always.

Alex quietly left the shed and tried his best not to focus on how full his heart seemed.

-

Oh, how could life possibly be better than this?

Alex had mixed feelings the minute he let Michael into his house. He saw the way Michael looked at all the expensive shit his father put on display, he noticed the way that had suddenly activated his flirting again. Of course, that sort of got confusing during the haircut. More confusing when Michael outright asked if he was straight. Things were very confusing.

But staring at him while he was asleep just a few inches away? There was nothing confusing about that.

The room was shrouded in darkness and Alex had already tugged the blanket over them both. He knew he should’ve woken Michael up so there would be no confusion. But the problem was that he was already sure he’d fucked up, so why not fuck up more?

Slowly, Alex reached his hand out. He moved slow and careful, gently dragging the back of his finger over Michael’s jaw. He was tempted to just put his whole hand on his cheek, but he didn’t. He already had done that when they’d kissed all that time ago. He knew what he felt like. 

He touched him for a few seconds before Michael’s face scrunched up in the most adorable way, but Alex couldn’t watch because he was too busy snatching his hand away and pretending to be asleep.  Michael made a confused little noise as he woke up. He didn’t move for a second, but then he did and when Alex peeked his eye open he saw his face buried in the pillow.

He wanted this forever.

The whole weekend went that way. Bonding, talking, being close. They slept in the same bed, they ate the same food, Michael used his shower.

“You know, I knew you were rich, but you’re like… really rich,” Michael commented late on Saturday night. Alex had shown him how to make pad thai even though he was sure Michael wasn’t paying attention.

“Old, dirty money,” Alex said with a shrug.

“What does your dad even do?” Michael asked. Alex looked at him, watched as he continued to look around. 

“He’s military, but he has a lot of stocks. It’s all shares my great, great grandad had, passed onto him,” Alex explained. Michael nodded with an impressed look, giving him that flirty little smile.

“So you’re gonna have all that one day?” Michael asked. Alex felt his stomach tighten up in a way similar to when Michael had started flirting after registering the emblem on his uniform.

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty hot,” Michael laughed, taking another bite. Alex changed the subject.

They climbed into the same bed that night, they whispered to each other, they slept in, they laid in bed for hours. It was so comfortable that Alex forgot. He let himself forget, he let himself focus on this. He just wanted so badly for this to be real. That a boy like that liked someone like him.

And then Michael sat him down.

“This whole weekend got me thinking really hard… I like you.”

//

“This is a bad idea.” 

“Why? I think I’m fucking brilliant.”

Michael ignored the way Rosa stared at him, eyeing him like she was super worried. Which she probably was. She seemed to only worry when it came to things about him. Still, he ignored it and continued to make sure he looked hot enough to meet the man of his dreams.

“Yeah, I know you do,” she said, “But whoever kissed you might not want to meet you somewhere so public.”

“It’s not that public though. That’s why I chose Bean Me Up, it’s small and can’t be too crowded,” Michael pointed out. Rosa sighed.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t going to crowd anyway. You advertised it and there are probably going to be people who are going to lie. Either to make fun of you or to trick you. I just don’t think this is smart and that’s coming from me,” Rosa said. Michael didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to.

It was true, he had advertised it. After loudly announcing it at the football game, he decided to be a bit more specific and got Isobel to make a post similar to the original kissing booth one. He put out a call for the guy who kissed him to meet him after school and that all he had to do was tell him what they talked about before the kiss.

“Michael,” Rosa said firmly when he turned around. She grabbed his arm and made him look at her. He did if only because she never said his name like that. “You are being reckless. What is going on? Are you okay? What happened?”

He stared at her for a minute and tried to find a quip about how she wasn’t his therapist. He found it hard to do that. She was always there for him and he was sort of being a dick in general. Michael took a deep breath, calming himself down enough to feel that dull ache in his chest resurface.

“I told Alex that I liked him and he freaked out on me about how I was just saying that because he has money,” Michael said, “I don’t even know why he’d even think that and I just… I need a good distraction.”

“And you think finding someone who kissed you in secret will do the trick?” Rosa asked. Michael shrugged.

“Worth a shot.”

“Have you thought about asking why Alex thought that? I’m sure there’s a reason. He’s a tame kid,” she said. He shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t want to make it worse. I’m just gonna put it behind me,” he said firmly. She gave him an unsure smile.

“Okay. Please be safe.”

“I will.”

-

So maybe Rosa had a point. 

Between 4 PM and 7 PM, seven different guys had come up to fuck with him. It was a nice, firm kick to the ego. The first hour, people had gathered around out of curiosity to see what guy had kissed him in such a weird way. It dwindled and dwindled as time went on which only made Michael feel even more deflated. He just wanted someone. Was that so hard to ask?

“Hey, I gotta go. My mom’s gonna throw a fit if I stay any later,” Isobel said around 8:30. Bean Me Up was only going to be open for 30 more minutes. That meant 30 more minutes before he was forced to face the reality of rejection. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. She gave him a sisterly smile and leaned to give him a hug.

“Let me know if he shows. And, if he doesn’t, come over. We can watch romcoms and eat ice cream and Mom can just get over it, okay?” she said. Michael smiled and nodded.

“Absolutely.”

When the clock hit 8:45 and he was the only one left in the shop, he was thinking about just heading to Isobel’s anyway. Leaving early would be better than being completely stood up. But then again, he’d already made it this far.

“We close in five,” one of the two baristas left said as the clock struck 8:55, sitting a full to-go drink in front of him with a kind smile, “On the house.”

“Why? Am I that pathetic?” he joked. Sort of. She still laughed.

“Well, no. You actually gave us a ton of free advertisement, so thanks for the nearly $300 sales jump today,” she said. Michael huffed a laugh and raised his drink to her.

“No problem,” he said, “I’ll head out so I’m not a dick.” 

“Well, wait, you still have four more minutes,” she told him, “You never know what could happen.”

So Michael waited.

8:57

8:58

8:59

“Can I sit here?”

Michael looked up to see Alex standing there. He looked fucking beautiful as always which was just annoying. Was he here to rub it in?

“I’m saving it for someone,” Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” And then he sat down.

Michael stared at him for a few seconds before he got what he was implying. But what he was implying was impossible. Complete and utter bullshit. Michael shook his head slowly.

“What?” he breathed, eyebrows tugged together. Alex shrugged one shoulder.

“Now that I’ve seen you shirtless, I’m second-guessing the cub label. Maybe an otter in the making? Not sure,” Alex said. Michael felt like he couldn’t breathe. What the fuck? What the fuck? “They’re closed. Drive me home?”

“I… I don’t…” Michael fumbled out. This didn’t make sense. Why was Alex here? He rejected him. He didn’t like him. He wasn’t… This wasn’t… What? “How?”

“I’ll tell you,” Alex promised, looking so sincere, “I promise.”

Michael stood slowly, his head spinning and he had to grab the table to balance himself. Alex was mad at him. Alex didn’t know him. Sure, Alex had the cheekbones and the physique and the lips and the voice and fuck.

“I don’t fucking get it,” Michael said as they stood beside his truck. Bean Me Up had locked their doors and closed the blinds to give them their privacy. Alex was holding his drink since he was too lost to comprehend.

“I talked to Liz and she kinda explained to me that I was being irrational. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and I definitely shouldn’t have hidden this from you. I should’ve just talked to you and I’m sorry for being selfish,” Alex said sincerely. It sounded way more sincere than when he’d freaked out on him. But, still, he couldn’t figure it out. He almost didn’t even care about the rejection anymore.

“I don’t understand how it was you,” Michael said, shaking his head, “I would’ve known. I mean, I should’ve. I hung around you, I heard you speak, I smelled you. How didn’t I know?” He paused for a moment. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

Alex gave a tight little smile and shook his head. 

“I wasn’t out. I’m still not, not really,” he sighed, “Look, when I told you I’d been idolizing you for years… I wasn’t lying. When I saw my opportunity, I took it and didn’t even think twice about what it meant. Then when we started hanging out, I was in too deep and I didn’t know how to bring it up. Then I got confused and, well, that ended badly.”

Michael rubbed his hand over his face, still trying to make sense of it all. “So, you don’t think I only want you for money?”

Alex visibly cringed. “I am so, so sorry for accusing you of that. I guess I just didn’t think you could like me and you mentioned the weekend and over the weekend you’d mentioned my dad’s money and, I don’t know, it was just a lot happening in my mind. Which isn’t an excuse. That was shitty of me and I will make it up to you.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, “I guess… I guess I’m just still…”

Alex sighed loudly and placed the cup on the hood of the truck before stepping into Michael’s space. He grabbed his cheeks and he kissed him. It wasn’t as wild as that one in the booth, but it was still a kiss from Alex. And then it made sense.

Michael went to push in closer, but Alex pulled away.

“Not here,” he whispered, “I just wanted to show you I’m not lying.”

Michael nodded. He knew he wasn’t. He’d been dreaming about that kiss and he’d been dreaming about Alex and suddenly it just was all one and it was all real and it was all here. Again, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason.

“Can we go to the shed?” Alex asked. Michael gulped softly and nodded. There was nothing he wanted more. He was allowed to touch Alex. He could have that.

The drive to Alex’s house was very full of Alex apologizing in length. He explained that he was just overwhelmed and confused, but he should’ve talked it out first. He told him that the kiss was a spur of the moment and he told him that he’d been crushing on him forever. He confirmed that the weekend had meant a lot to him too. And he told him that he was gay.

“You’re only the second person I’ve told,” Alex said, “So… I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to come out until you’re ready,” Michael assured him once he found his words.

“I mean, I kinda don’t have a choice now. People are gonna want to know if you found your guy,” Alex said, taking a sip of Michael’s coffee. That did things to his mind that something as simple as sharing a cup shouldn’t do.

“Fuck them, it’s our business. I can just tell Isobel and Rosa that I found him, but not elaborate on who and then everyone else can fuck off,” Michael decided as he drove the bumpy terrain that led to the shed from the back way. Alex huffed a laugh.

“You can tell Isobel and Rosa,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. They love you, so they deserve to know that I’m not fucking torturing you. Or, at least I hope not.” 

“You aren’t.”

When they got to the shed, Michael sent both Isobel and Rosa a text to tell them how it went. Then he focused on Alex which was easy.

The tone between them changed as they got into the sanctuary of the shed. It felt slightly tainted from the last time they’d been there, but then again, not really. It was just that they were alone now.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said again.

“Stop apologizing,” Michael said, slowly moving closer. He wanted to get his hands on him. He wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to make up for three months of being lost. 

“I’m not experienced,” Alex warned as Michael gently grabbed his hips.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said one more time. Michael huffed and shook his head, wrapping his arms around Alex and tilting his head for a kiss.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, taking it one step at a time. Michael wanted to soak in it this time. He wanted to be sure without a doubt that this was Alex and that this was his. This was his choice.

Alex wove his fingers into his hair and his lips parted, his tongue sliding over Michael’s in a way that was far too confident for a boy who claimed to have no experience. His hands moved up and his elbows rested on Michael’s shoulders so he could cradle his head closer. This made sense. This was coming home.

Michael pushed his shirt up to feel his skin. It was soft and warm and inviting. They made their way to the tiny bed and shared it for the first time. They fit well. His hand moved down a little bit to the hem of his jeans only to be stopped by Alex’s hand on his wrist.

“Not today, okay?” Alex whispered. Michael nodded easily. Happily, even. This was new. Slow. He could do slow.

“No problem,” he said, “No pressure.”

Alex stayed the night in the shed that night. Michael finally got his kisses and his cuddles. He finally got Alex.

As he drifted off to sleep with Alex in his arms, he thought about those initials on the wall. He decided that the story didn’t matter. It was two people who loved each other and this shed meant something to them. He made a mental note to add another heart.

A.M. + M.G. 

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 6- Hospital

I’m here early! Mostly because I had a lot of this written earlier, so if that didn’t make it obvious enough I really liked this prompt. While it’s a hospital prompt is isn’t especially intense or gory, after yesterday I tried to make this one pretty lighthearted. Honestly I feel like the only really uncomfortable part of this is how much effort I put in trying to make a Pokemon expy. Hehe.

Sorry-not-sorry for more Sin and Bedman, it’s a bit more ‘romantic’ then last time but still pretty much platonic friendship. Enjoy!

Though it felt weird to say, Sin knew his least favorite thing about his father was his charity. Helping out people in need was a good thing, obviously, but a ridiculous amount of his childhood memories involved being dragged along to food banks, hospitals, and shelters so his dad could give corny, well-wishing speeches and lend a hand to those less fortunate, forcing him to help out alongside the other volunteers. Sin had used to wonder if it was because something about having a cute little kid around raised everyone’s morale, or whatever.

Well, considering he was now a grown-ass teenager at the age of sixteen, and Ky was still dragging him along, maybe he’d been off the mark.

At least he’d been allowed to take a break after an hour of schlepping donation boxes up to the children’s wing. Of all the places his dad went to for charity work, hospitals were by far his least favorite. The colorless, sterile atmosphere was just unnerving to be around. As soon as he could, he made a dash for the nearest sign pointing him toward the courtyard.

Sin swiped his guest ID through the maglock, which released with a cheery beep. The white walls and stench of antiseptic gave way to an array of soft colors and the smell of flowers. He took a deep whiff of the aroma and sighed with relief. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handheld, fully charged for when he got a break and could take a minute to loaf off and relax.

Which game had he left in it this time? He popped out the cartridge and smiled. That was right. Pocket Beasts: Light version. His current favorite. He just needed a comfy place to hunker down and play.

A few stone benches were placed in between bushes and flowerbeds, all unoccupied. The place looked really empty, but it made sense. Everyone who wasn’t already busy was probably at Ky’s speech. At least it meant he’d be able to get some peace and quiet and privacy.

He spotted a pretty lavender flower poking out of the bushes and approached. The ‘flower’ moved, making him realize he’d seen wrong. Sin groaned inwardly at the sight of another person, perched on the short stone wall surrounding the flowerbeds. They didn’t glance up, if they’d even noticed him at all, appearing too absorbed in their own handheld device to care about much else.

“H-hey.” He raised a hand at them, and offered a twitchy half-smile. There were so many ways he knew this could go wrong. Sometimes people screamed at him until he fled, or immediately launched into the most boring small-talk possible. Sin just wanted to play his game, he really had no interest in causing any trouble. “Can I sit down?”

Sin braced himself for a response, but he didn’t get one. “Hey?” He tried again, waving harder. Maybe they were deaf? “Is it ok if I sit out here?”

Eyes glanced up at him, but only for a half-second before they returned to the screen. Well, it wasn’t a ‘no,’ so the best he could assume was they just didn’t care.

Hesitantly, he found a place to sit. If the hospital gown and IV hadn’t already given it away, it was pretty clear that he was a patient, not a visitor. He was scrawny and spindly to the point where it was almost disturbing, his skin was pale and sickly, and the messy bedhead was only slightly offset by the awkward purple hair dye. Why was he out here in the first place, instead of at Ky’s speech?

He knew staring was rude, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Every time he tried, there was another odd little detail that caught his attention. A peculiar little hairclip in the shape of a pink arrow. A purple charm bracelet half-hidden by his standard-issue hospital band. Glittery star stickers on the sides of his handheld, and- hey, he recognized that game!

His expression brightened. “Oh, you play Pocket Beasts too? That’s my favorite! Who’s your starter?”

The only response he got was a couple of button clicks. Sin found himself sinking back into an uncomfortable silence. Well, he supposed it was better than being yelled at. He switched his game on.

Dad said he wasn’t supposed to use the internet at the hospital because it would mess with all the fancy machines, so online matches were out of the question. Well, there was always the battle tower. Maybe he could item grind to kill time. He still needed to finish his Soup Encyclopedia and some of the rare cooking items could only be found there.

Any discomfort he had was wiped away with the familiar music and intro screen of the game. How could he worry when there were battles to be won? All he had to worry about was making the most of his free time.

His avatar flickered into existence, still in the last town he’d visited. As soon as he moved towards the nearest building, though, a little indicator popped up on the bottom of the screen. Puzzled, Sin took his stylus and tapped on the icon.

Trainer BEDMAN would like to battle!

>Accept Decline

‘Bedman?’ He looked up at the little avatar that had appeared, then glanced off to the boy at his side. The messy lavender dye-job was surprisingly close, as was the magenta arrow pinning his bangs out of his eyes. Was it just some weird coincidence? If he wanted to play, he could have just asked…

Despite his confusion, Sin clicked ‘Accept.’ PvP battles were more fun than doing the same grind he had done over and over again. Even if he did lose, it was in a totally unique way.

The usual introductory animations played out as their avatars posed and tossed their first beasts into battle. Sin had to snicker at the disparity between their choices. He always liked sending his biggest and toughest beasts out in the beginning, and pretty much anything looked tiny beside it.

But smaller meant faster, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see the other one attack first. He braced himself for a tough starting move...only to be confused at the sight of a sand cloud being thrown at him.

Enemy Used SAND TOSS!

Accuracy Lowered!

Sand toss? What a waste of a turn! Sin grinned as it switched to his turn. Karate chop, a pretty powerful start, it always hit, and he had the type advantage, what a great way to start a match- !

Attack Missed!

“What!? How did that miss!?”

“Karate chop has a standard accuracy of 100%.” A low, quiet voice spoke up next to him, making Sin practically jump back in shock. “But I lowered your accuracy with sand toss, so now there’s a 15% chance it won’t hit.”

“...Huh.” He looked back at his screen. “Never see people use sand toss out of, like, NPC fights.”

“Most players treat accuracy-modifiers as a waste of time, but if you have a Pocket Beast with a high enough defense, then the turns spent not attacking are made up for when the opponent can barely hit you later.” The strange boy had such a casual tone to his voice, as though they’d been conversing for hours already.

It was a bit jarring, but Sin tried to roll with it. “I guess that does make sense. Sorta like when a beast has the ‘Decoy’ ability and the first attack never hits?”

“Kind of. But a lot of players know which beasts can have Decoy, so they know ahead of time to focus on stat-altering moves or poisoning instead of wasting a turn when they know attacking won’t do anything. Take your turn.”

It took him a moment to process the last bit, but he noticed the battle menu had popped up again. He picked another attack. “Why’d you want to battle me? Did you just pick at random?”

“You were the only opponent available.” Another sand toss. “It’s hard to find people to play with on local, and I’m not allowed to use global matchmaking in my room because it needs an internet connection.”

Sin waited for his two-turn charge move to activate, but before it could be his turn, a swift attack managed to knock his beast out cold. “Damn it! I thought I had that…”

He spotted a triumphant little smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Pocket Beasts is all about tactics. You have to take everything into account. It’s easy to just care about how much damage a move can do, but you’re doomed from the start if you don’t have the right stats, or the best moveset to compliment them.”

He couldn’t help but grin along with him. “Wow, you’re really good at strategy!

‘Bedman’ managed a small, awkward smile. “Well, um, not like I have much else to do…”

“Really?” Sin tilted his head. “I guess it’s good you’ve got something fun to do while you’re here, all this hospital stuff skeeves me out. When do they let you go back home? I dunno how long you’ve been here, but I think I’d go nuts after a couple of days.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been here a while, already.” A lucky hit from Sin’s beast managed to knock his first one out. “Since...last January, if I remember correctly.”

Last January? Jeez, forget a few days, he was sure he’d be past insanity after a whole year!

Sin donned a look of pity. “That sucks. What’s wrong with you?” The words came out before he could think or realize that it wasn’t an especially nice thing to say. “Uh, shit, sorry-”

“Mmm. It’s okay. At least you don’t mince your words. I have a neurological disorder that affects how my brain processes information. It’s a bit hard to describe. Let’s say a human brain is like a computer, it processes the inputs that are fed into it. Powerful, modern computers can process a lot of information all at once, but if a computer is old, or wasn’t built properly, trying to process too much information can make it overheat and crash.”

“Oh. So how do you keep it from ‘overheating?’”

“Sleep, mostly. I’m only awake for a few hours every day. When I’m awake, and I don’t have tests to do, I like to play games. My sister and I play multiplayer sometimes, but usually I have to play by myself. She has the same problem I do, so a lot of the time one of us is asleep during the times the other’s awake.”

Was it weird to get all this personal information from someone he’d just met? Sin wasn’t sure. But he did like talking to this guy. “Well, want to swap Friend Codes? If we’re registered as friends then local multiplayer should work, then you don’t have to use an internet connection!”

“Where do you live?”

“Central Illyria!” Sin beamed. “Like, half an hour at most. It should still work from there.”

The other boy gave him an odd look. “I’m sure there’s plenty of hospitals closer to you, then. Why did you come out all the way here?”

That got him to roll his eyes, making an exaggerated gagging noise. “My dad. He always drags me along on his charity stuff, carrying boxes and shit. He only let me take a break because he’s making some dumb speech up in the-”

And the regret came just as fast as he saw his companion’s expression shift. He hated the visits, obviously, but he knew it was important to a lot of people. And if someone had been stuck in a hospital for that long, maybe they’d be happy to have someone new come by. He must have come off as such a dick-

Before he could stew on it more, he heard a little laugh. “Yeah. I hate those, too.” Bedman was smiling at him. “You’re Kiske’s kid? That’s got to be awful.”

“Heh. Yeah, it really is.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Never gave you my name, did I? I’m Samson, but everyone just calls me ‘Sin.’”

“I was curious about your name, that does make a bit more logical sense.” His companion nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Sin.”

“Same! What about you? Can’t imagine your name’s really ‘Bedman,’ is it?”

“More of a screen name, really. My name is-”

“Mattie! Dr. Baldy says you’ve gotta have your IV changed!”

They both jumped at the sudden noise, accompanied by the slam of a door. A girl with shaggy blonde hair and familiar features limped into the courtyard, setting her sights on them as soon as she was visible.

“There you are! I just knew you’d be out here.”

“Well, there’s not many other places I could be…” He said. “When did you wake up?”

“‘bout half an hour ago.” She replied. “Just in time for mom and dad to send me out to look for you.”

The girl’s expression changed when she noticed Sin. “Oh! Mattie, who’s this?”

“Sin, this is my twin sister, Delilah.” ‘Mattie’ pointed to her. “Delilah, this is my...new friend.”

“New friend?” Delilah reached out and shook Sin’s hard with a remarkable amount of strength. “Did my baby bro talk your ear off about his favorite game again?”

“You’re only older by nine minutes, Delilah!”

“He’s really good at Pocket Beasts.” Replied Sin. “It was fun playing with him!”

At that, he realized neither of them had selected anything in a while. He looked down at his screen

TIME UP

DRAW

“Aww, maaaaan…”

“Do we have enough time for another match?” Mattie asked.

“Dr. Baldy looked really serious. We probably can’t make him wait that long.” Delilah shook her head.

Sin tried to bring the mood back up. “Well, we were still gonna swap Friend Codes, right? Then we can play whenever! Either of you have something to write with?”

Delilah pulled a thick black sharpie from her sock. “I have a marker! But no paper…”

“Oh! Hold on a sec.” Sin rolled his jacket sleeve up and held out his arm. Just write it on the back!”

The two of them looked hesitant. “Is that safe?”

“It’s totally fine! It’s a little hard to wash off, but that means it won’t smear before I get home!”

Mattie took the marker and began scribbling on his forearm. “You’re really quite strange, Sin.”

“Thanks!” As soon as the wet feeling on his arm went away, he twisted around to see two series of digits.“What’s this other number?”

“Our phone number. If, um, you ever feel like calling.” Despite his attempts to hide it, Sin could see the faint blush to the other boy’s cheeks. “Do you think you could do one more thing very quickly?”

He couldn’t think of what it could have possibly been. “Yeah?”

“Can you draw something on me? I’ve never done it before. I want to see what it’s like.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah! I’ll try and draw something cool real quick!”

Delilah winced. “You know mom and dad are going to kill you, right?”

“Just say it was my idea!” Sin beamed. Mattie flinched the first time he pressed the marker to his skin, but he managed to still draw a straight line. He couldn’t think of anything in particular to draw, so he settled for a series of sharp, criss-crossing black lines circling his forearm. “How’s that?”

“...woah.” Simple as it was, Mattie looked utterly awestruck. “It’s…

“C’mon, Mattie, we’ve gotta go!” Tired of waiting, Delilah all but dragged him off the wall.

“See ya!” Sin waved as they departed. “You’d better bring your A-game next time we battle, I don’t lose easy!” He folded up his game and tucked it into his back pocket. That was probably his cue to leave, too.

As he hopped off the wall, he could make out a faint voice trailing away to the other side of the courtyard.

“Huh? What’s the deal with you, Mattie? You never look that happy!”

Sin smiled as he turned to leave. Ky was probably waiting for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited for the next visit.

[imagine-loki]

Atlas: Space, Mars

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 6/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. 

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 6: Mars

Summary: Loki and Becca had already determined (thoroughly) that they were more than just friends (Taking Turns). Loki’s affectionate side lands them both in hot water.

Warnings include: Language, wounds, blood, near-death experiences. Loki instantly regretting being soft and then just being softer. Fluff. Tony is a dad. 

=

We laid our names to rest Along the dotted line We left our date of birth And our history behind

On most days, Loki did not mind having to work with the Avengers. He lived in relative peace, with plenty of books and trinkets to occupy his time. People gave him his space, and did not pressure him to participate in any of their silly bonding activities (though he would be lying if he said that he did like the idea that he was invited, nowadays). He would also be lying if he did not admit that part of his current contentedness was not due to the fact his bed was being semi-consistently warmed by a lovely mortal that treated him like… like he was just another person on their team? There was no awe-inspired gasp at meeting him, no worry that he might crack at any moment and murder them in cold blood.

Becca doted on him, to be sure. It constantly astounded him to feel the gentleness she treated him with–though she treated everyone gently, if a little sarcastic. But, sometimes, there was a special smile or a squeeze of his arm and the carefully constructed wall of apathy around him cracked, holes formed. Through those holes, Loki knew Rebecca saw fondness, even gentleness. She was the one person he didn’t mind seeing that. He was able to let his guard down, if only in private and ask for the soft things he wanted.

So, no, he did not mind working with the Avengers.

But he shouldn’t have let his guard down so easily.

We were full of life We could barely hold it in We were amateurs at war Strangers to suffering

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

This mess was all his fucking fault.

He hadn’t mean for this to happen. All he wanted was to give them both a moment of respite within the chaos of the battle. An instant where neither of them were running under a hail of bullets or smudging their hands with the dark elixir of other people’s blood. All he had wanted was to make the roaring around them quiet, just for a second. It had just been a stupid kiss.

Loki had been drafted into an intelligence mission. When he stepped into the Quinjet that morning, he had been expecting a short flight and an even shorter rendezvous around a facility to tinker with a computer or two until he had a neat little cache of facts to bring back. He had been pleasantly surprised, when he climbed in through the hold doors. Rebecca was strapped in to a seat tinkering with a small rectangular instrument that he could not identify with a set of tiny screwdrivers.

We made our families proud But scared at the same time We promised we’d be safe Another lie from the front lines

Glancing shortly around at the other two agents in the jet, he quietly slipped into the seat beside her. Becca barely glanced to the side before the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.

“I thought we agreed not to take missions together,” he husked into her ear, eyes still weary of the other occupants. While they had agreed to that rule, as well as not revealing the nature of their relationship to the team, it had not been Loki to set the stipulations. “Are you not afraid of being caught out with the big, bad wolf, little lamb?”

Becca’s hands stilled. “Call me little lamb again, popsicle. I dare you!” He fought the urge to guffaw. She did not like to be thought of as small and soft, and she wasn’t, but liked teasing her.

“You were the one to say you didn’t want to go out in fights with me,” he reminded. The fingers of his left hand were tracing a gentle circle over her right hip, nearest him. He smirked as she idly shifted into his touch, almost as if in reflex. “For safety,” he scoffed sardonically.

“Wasn’t my call. Tony wanted you to have back-up in case their security protocols were harder to crack than you could handle.” His lips brushed the edge of her jaw. “Loki.”

“They’re not watching.” He chuckled at her concerned voice, but moved away, settling back into his seat with a princely pose. “And you're–”

With a sigh, she dropped her project and turned to face him. “And I am?” She was attempting to look aggravated, but a bat of his blue eyes was more than enough to bring a flood of red to her cheeks.

“Enchanting.” His voice, merely a whisper, rang like a gong in her ears. Something inside Loki had cracked ever since she freed him of his tub-sized ice prison. There was a vulnerability he had been too scared to display, and had so been shoved into the recesses of his soul, that now burst forth. He was so fantastically soft, delicate in his treatment, yet there was a confidence to him. Playfulness. He hadn’t felt this idiotically free since he was a young lad. “Besides, you know how it makes me feel when I see you being clever.”

Becca laughed, despite herself. “Jeez, Loki. Cool it with the nerd kink.”

“I can hardly help how attractive I find your mind. Or the stirring it causes,” he quipped back, grin stretching widely at the flush of her face alone.

“For right now, I need you to focus on your mission and not whatever filthy fantasies you’re conjuring. Got it?”

“Very well. Nothing but the mission until I get you alone, once more.”

The small taskforce took to the winding hallways of an underground bunker. They were quiet–stepping lightly, dealing with bogeys as silently as possible, ghosts. Loki was the only one who could get them into the particular location they needed to access. Teleportation, it seemed, a skill that had been mocked as cowardly in the past, was very practical.

At the end of a hallway was an armored door. The two agents that had accompanied them split into adjacent corridors to funnel threats away from the server room. Rebecca was to stay at the door until the moment that Loki needed her, if it even came to that. She nodded at the Asgardian and took a knee in front of the door, lifting a long rifle flush against her shoulder and taking aim. Loki breathed deep, letting his eyes draw closed before he blipped out of existence.

Inside the room, he sat at one of the terminals, with a frown. As a general rule, he disliked computers. They were finnicky, and they often didn’t do tasks exactly as he had asked them. Rebecca, on the other hand, could bend them to her will. More often than not, he would sit in dumb, slack-jawed wonder as her fingers flew over the keyboard, making sense of chaos. He didn’t know exactly how she made those strings of zeroes and ones become fantastic tools of espionage, but she did it, regardless.

He was much slower and only half as clever.

Still, he plugged in the USB Becca had handed him earlier, and began tapping away. It was a tiered process. Every little bit built upon the last, a little like a symphony. If he tried hard enough, he could almost make the monotonous keystrokes sound like the ethereal music his mother loved or the gentle relaxing melodies that Becca preferred to relax to.

“Progress check.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more patient with me, kitten. I’m not as skilled as you,” he retorted, momentarily typing one-handed to answer his comms. “Unless you’re here to whisper dirty things in my ear. In which case, go right ahead.”

“Mission, Loki.”

“I can multitask. I’m not Thor,” he sassed back, though his typing did increase in speed. Over the comms, there was the dull thud of bullets. It wasn’t any of theirs, as they were under strict orders to use silencers. “Rebecca?”

“Loki, I’m going to need you to hurry up, OK? I’ll give you more time.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but he could make out the strain of her aim and the ricochet that knocked the wind out of her.

With a noise of agreement, he bent over the keyboard and doubled his efforts, hoping his concentration wouldn’t leave him until he was ready to leave that room. Worry was gnawing at his chest. Though the sound of guns had diminished, he wondered how long they had until the next wave of attackers was to hit. That same worry lectured him about the very same reasons Rebecca had for not going out into the field together. It was damn near impossible to concentrate when he actually gave a damn for the person watching his back.

“Progress check?”

“Almost done. One more level to crack and I’ll start downloading,” he got out through gritted teeth. Just as he finished his sentence, he clacked the Return key one more time and the clever coding inside the USB starting sorting through the computer files and stealing information. With a flourish, he stood from his post and unlatched the door. Becca started at the sound and turned with a frown on her face. “It’s downloading. You might as well sit inside.”

“Jet had to scramble. They’re circling back in twenty.”

Loki smirked. “So, you’re saying we have twenty minutes?”

Becca glared, resting the rifle on the floor by her leg. “Not the time nor the place, you doofus.”

“Come on! I just cracked through several levels of security protocols, just like you taught me. Don’t I deserve a reward?” He pouted, giving her wide puppy-dog eyes that he knew Becca had a hard time saying no to. “Not even a kiss?”

“I hate you.” Her voice held little conviction.

“No, you don’t.” He riposted, and he truly believed it. Almost reluctantly, she cleared the few steps until she could meet Loki. Their lips brushed together gently. It was like they were shy about coming together and sharing a small intimate moment, even though neither was apprehensive of showing affection. The computer dinged just as they pulled apart. “Just in time. One moment, dearest.”

Our backs against the wall We’re surrounded and afraid Our lives now in the hands Of the soldiers taking aim

He turned towards the terminal and retrieved his device. The sound of shuffling caught his attention before it did Rebecca’s. When he turned, three different people in black uniforms and masks had rushed in. Becca sprang for her rifle, forgotten on the floor a few steps back, only to stop as a gun was cocked and pointed at her head.

Loki pulled his daggers with a flicker of his hands and held them aloft. The second he took a step, though, the gun against Rebecca’s temple was nudged. “No! No. Don’t shoot,” he sputtered, feeling the sentiment foreign on his tongue. He hadn’t cared for anyone enough to plead for their safety.

“Put them down!”

Clenching his jaw, he made a show of lowering his daggers to the floor and kicking them away, raising his empty hands to prove he was unarmed. “Please, take your weapon off of her.”

“Shut up!”

“Just… she is of no consequence. Let her go,” he growled, eyes hard like thunder. Becca was stock still, a bead of sweat running down her forehead and wincing at the cold steel pressed against her head. “I am the one stealing from you, she's–”

“Loki, be quiet, for fuck’s sake!” Becca yelled. One of the men grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled head back until she had buckled onto her knees.

“There’s other agents. At least twenty in the building. I could take you to all of them–”

“Loki!”

“–just let her go free.”

The clap of a gun rang through the small room and Becca’s screams bounced off of the armored walls. Her left thigh was bleeding over her black suit and he could tell she was struggling to control her emotions, lest she break down crying right then and there.

“Next one goes in her skull if you don’t shut up.”

Our questions ricochet Like broken satellites: How our bodies, born to heal Become so prone to die?

Loki’s eyes darkened, breath leaving his chest with the last of his pacifist resolve. Magic swirled within him and in the blink of an eye several copies of himself filled the room. The chaos that followed was blinding and blurry. Guns went off, and blows were exchanged. Clones stabbed at men in dark suits as they came by the droves to bring he and Becca down. Loki took satisfaction in burying his blade deep into their bellies and ripping them to shreds. Becca had managed to grab a pistol and was taking down her fair-share as well.

When the dust settled, Becca was slumped against a tower of drives. There was much more blood on the floor than was warranted for her injury and she was trying to weakly plug the wound with her hands.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked, breathlessly, climbing over bodies to get to her.

“I think it nicked my artery, Loki,” she slurred. Ripping a piece of his cape off, he tied off the wound as tightly as he possibly could and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t care where the other two agents were at the moment, he only cared about getting her back home.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“How much longer?”

“Twenty five minutes, sir,” the other agent called back. Becca had soaked through the tourniquet he had made and was bordering on delirious from blood loss.

Fuck. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have deviated from their plan. He didn’t have to let her in and distract them both while in enemy territory. It was a rookie mistake, he knew. He had been in battle for thousands of years. How could he have been so stupid? What was his insistence in showing her intimacy?

Why was she so pale?

“Come on, Becca. Focus on me, please.” He whispered, tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs and trying to hold back the tears filling his eyes. “Tell me a story, will you?”

She smiled weakly. “Once upon a time, you were an idiot and got me shot,” she whispered back with a giggle. “Fuck, it hurts so much.”

“I am sorry. I am so sorry, Rebecca,” he chanted, over and over. “Stay with me.”

Though time is ruthless It showed us kindness in the end By slowing down enough A second chance to make amends As life replayed, we heard a voice proclaim: “Lay your weapons down! They’re calling off the war On account of losing track Of what we’re fighting for”

The second the jet had touched down, Loki had gathered Becca into his arms and ran. He barely understood where he was going, but his panic-addled body apparently knew exactly where to go. When he rushed into the medical rooms, Bruce nearly jumped out of his seat to rush towards them.

“What happened?”

“She was shot. The bullet is still lodged in her thigh, but she thinks it nicked the artery,” he spilled, tripping over words as he put her down. “She’s bled through four tourniquets on the ride over.”

Tony had come in, startled out of his lab by the ruckus. He took one look at Becca, pale and sickly looking rather than her caramel-skinned, effervescent self and nearly fainted. Loki was still at her bedside while Bruce and a handful of medical assistants buzzed around her. “Loki, come on. Let them work.”

“I–Stark–she won’t stop bleeding,” Loki choked out, his grip turning white on her hand. Tears were dripping down his face and he didn’t care who was there to witness it. Nothing mattered if she died because of his carelessness.

“I know, but you need to let them work, Lokes.” Tony placed his hands on Loki’s shoulders, forcefully tugging him back. This was the first time he realized just how strong Loki was, as his wiry, tall frame barely moved at Tony’s insistence. He might as well have been a tree rooted to the spot. “Loki. Come on, buddy, we gotta move.”

“She’s still bleeding. I can’t leave her.”

“Look at–look at me!” Loki reluctantly parted his gaze to face Stark. “You’re not a doctor and you’re not a healer. The only thing you can do is let Bruce work his magic and wait until she’s in clear, OK?”

After a moment, Loki nodded and let himself be carted away from the bed.

So we found our way back home Let our cuts and bruises heal While a brand-new war began One that no one else could feel

Tony had managed to wrangle Loki into some armchairs just outside the medical facility and handed Loki a bottle of water and a couple of pills.

“What’s this?”

“Painkiller for the shiner you got and a sedative.” With a frown, Loki raised his hand to his face and pressed onto his right cheekbone, feeling a sharp ache at the action. Shock had kept him from feeling the brunt of what must have been plentiful injuries. “So, what happened?” Loki didn’t answer, kicking back the pills and swallowing them dry. “You get distracted?”

“Distracted? What would I get distracted with?” Loki scoffed, and his stomach turned immediately. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue and Stark gave him a look that told him that he knew Loki was lying. “Why did you send her, then? To prove a point?”

“I sent her because she’s the best and because I hoped you had more sense than to let her presence derail you from a task!”

“It was a mistake!”

“That much is obvious!” Tony roared back. He stepped back, forcing himself to take a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I get it. She makes you feel good, but you can’t just drop what you’re doing while behind enemy lines just because you realized she’s pretty. You’re tough as nails, and can survive the Hulk. She can’t.”

“Do you think I haven’t thought of that every second since I pulled her into the jet? It was my fault! I distracted her! She let her guard down and she might… she might–”

“She’s not going to die. Banner’s going to get her stabilized and she’ll recover enough to give you grief for this for the rest of her days. More importantly, I haven’t given her permission to die, so I don’t think she can legally do that.” Loki chuckled drily, rolling his eyes at Stark’s attempt at humor. It was odd to be comforted by the man who used to want him dead, who said he could trust Loki just about as far as he could throw him. “Your girl is as tough as nails. This isn’t what’s going to take her out.”

“She’s not my girl–”

“You’re right. God knows the only reason you’re together is because she allows it.” Tony did a double-take at Loki’s flushed face and impressive fish-out-of-water impression. “What? Did you think you were a secret? You put in more hours in my lab than Becca does. Who the hell waits for their girlfriend to get to work? Have some dignity!”

Loki scoffed. “What I meant to say was that, perhaps, we shouldn’t be together. I can’t bear the thought of getting her killed because of sentimentality. She's… she’s my best friend and I care for her. I can't…”

Our nights have grown so long Now we beg for sound advice “Let the brokenness be felt ’Til you reach the other side There is goodness in the heart Of every broken man Who comes right up to the edge Of losing everything he has”

Tony put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it encouragingly. “Let yourself feel this way–the pain, the grief, the anger. Let it seep into every last bit of you until you’re sure it’ll destroy you. And then use that feeling as fuel so that it never happens again. Feel this mistake so hard that you never want to make it again. Just letting her go isn’t gonna do that.”

We were young enough to sign Along the dotted line

Now we’re young enough to try To build a better life

Loki stared at Stark for a long minute. He thought of Pepper and the million and one headaches and heartbreaks Tony had put her through and the fact that she remained at his side. Pepper was stronger than Tony could ever hope to be, just as Becca was stronger than him. Pepper was Tony’s moral compass. Becca didn’t complete Loki in that way, but rather allowed him to explore areas of himself that had been ignored. She was personified kindness and easiness. She didn’t stress or worry herself sick, as he did. She was just a light that he had refused to turn on long ago.

“Hey, guys,” Bruce said quietly, interrupting the other two’s staring competition. “Bullet’s out and I got the bleeding under control. She should be fine.”

Tony nodded and patted Loki on the shoulder before retrieving his hand. “Is she sleeping?”

“No, she’s a little keyed up. The sedative hasn’t done much and I’m maxed out. I was hoping Loki could do some hocus pocus on her.”

Loki stared at Tony for a moment more before nodding and slipping into the ward behind Banner. Becca’s eyes were as big as dinner plates and she was practically vibrating in place. Her fidgeting settled a bit when Loki took a seat on her bedside. His fingers dug in to brush her hair back, gently scraping at her scalp and he felt her melt into his touch.

“I’m so sorry.” Bruce covered his noise of surprise with a cough, making Becca laugh. He moved from the chair to the space beside her on the bed. “I swear this to be the last time you come to harm because of my recklessness. I promise you I will take care–”

“I’m not angry, Loki. Settle down.” She fished away a tear making its way down his cheek. “This wasn’t your fault. I knew it was a bad idea. I did it, anyway. Let’s just make it a rule–no kissing on the field.”

“You still want to kiss me?” There was genuine surprise in his voice.

“Do you think I would end our relationship because you were affectionate at an inopportune moment?” When he merely broke away his gaze, rather than respond, she sighed. “You mean more to me than that.” He stilled for a long moment before his fingers resumed their scratching. Becca blinked heavily.

“Sleep, my love. I’ll be here to kiss you when you wake.”

[packsbeforesnacks]

Homecoming || Noah & Winn

TIMING: Friday, May 29th, 2020, before Ariana howls. LOCATION: Noah’s Townhouse PARTIES: @noah-kalani & @packsbeforesnacks  SUMMARY: After the long drive up from Philly, Winn just wants to see his friend. Noah, meanwhile, would rather see almost anybody else. Making a scene in your yard after midnight isn’t an HOA violation, right? WARNINGS: None.

Why was Haukea barking? was the first thought that crossed Noah’s mind as he was dragged back into consciousness. It was midnight on a Friday and, like many lazy ass twenty-somethings that had no actual lives, he’d fallen asleep with his Xbox controller in his hand. But that wasn’t the real issue here. No, no. The real issue was that Haukea never barked. Stumbling upright, Noah followed the sound of his puppy out of his room and down the stairs, trying to get his sleep drunk mind to wake the fuck up. Because something wasn’t right, and it was evident by the tension in Haukea’s body and the pounding sound coming from the door. “Shhh baby, it’s okay,” Noah cooed, running a hand down her back to try to calm her, and subsequently himself. But nothing could have prepared Noah for what he was going to see upon opening the door. Because standing there was one Winn Woods in the flesh.

Winn had left Denny in the car with his dad, but he could hear the excited panting as his dog caught sight and scent of Haukea. How had they not let their dogs meet again? Winn hadn’t seen Noah in person since the pack meeting, and he’d knocked on the door with a soft smile, eager to see his friend despite the lateness of the hour and the circumstances surrounding his return. That smile disappeared upon seeing the man. Noah looked like he’d seen a ghost. A coil of dread built in his gut, that something had happened while he’d been away, and Winn started talking, fast, “What’s wrong? Is it Luke? Layla? Ariana?” Those seemed the most likely candidates for tragedy. “I— I know I wasn’t back as soon as I said I’d be, but…” Oh no. What if… He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to say it. “Did something happen to Blanche? I didn’t— I thought she was fine. What the fuck happened, Noah?” He put a gentle hand on Noah’s shoulder, not willing to go for a hug after the other man had requested space a few weeks ago.

Standing there, staring at the man they had been trying to find all this time, Noah cycled through a multitude of emotions. First, there was the relief at knowing Winn wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. Then, came the hurt of knowing that Winn had planned this, he’d planned to leave them. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t coerced in any way. And finally came the anger as Winn touched him, as if nothing had happened. Noah couldn’t help but to see red, his wolfy mind already running through how he was going to rip that motherfucker’s hand clean off his wrist. “Don’t. Fucking Touch. Me.” Noah stated slowly, batting the offending appendage away from his shoulder. “You forfeited that right the. second. you. left.” Every word was punctuated with a shove, every fiber in Noah’s body wanting Winn away from his door, away from his safe spot, away from him.

Well, that was… unexpected. “I— What?” Winn looked at Noah, the way the other man was coiled in anger. Noah’s right hand was in a brace, and Winn’s mind raced with possibilities. Had there been a fight? Had— Had something happened? As he was unceremoniously shoved out of Noah’s doorway, Winn held up his hands, surrendering to… whatever was making the other man angry. “What the fuck do you mean left, Noah? I told Blanche I was coming back. I left a note. My phone was out-of-commission, I know, but that’s why I let her know.” He was probably going to regret this, but Winn slowly approached Noah again, wary. “Noah, what happened? Talk to me. Please.”  

Noah almost couldn’t believe the bullshit coming out of Winn’s mouth. A note? He ran away and left a note? What was he, twelve? Not to mention his flimsy ‘my phone was out-of-commission’ excuse. Bullshit. Borrow a phone from someone. Hell, go to a fucking library for Christ’s sake. “And do you want to know how Ari found Blanche, Winn?” Noah asked, his body instinctively pushing Winn backward again. “Passed out in her car. Passed. Out. In. Her. Car.” His good hand jabbed against Winn’s chest again to emphasize his point. “Why? Because you LEFT HER LIKE THAT!” Yes, Noah was yelling, and yes, he was making a scene on the front lawn in front of the whole neighborhood, but at this point he had bigger fish to fry. “Also, fuck your fucking note, because we never fucking found a note. And even if we had, that would not excuse the fact that you are a fucking ADULT, who could have found a phone, or a computer, anything really to check in. But no. You ran away and deactivated all your shit like a fucking coward.”

Winn could hear Denny barking from the car, unused to hearing Noah yell. His dad was… confused, probably. Hell, Winn was confused. “I— Yeah, Noah, I know that B was passed out. She passes out when she uses her, uh, powers, sometimes? Her hatch was open and she didn’t have a blanket when I found her. So, guess what I did, man? I woke her up and told her I was sorry, and that I loved her, and that I was going to be back in a few days? I covered her up and closed the hatch, and, again, left a note? Did you— So, like, I’m getting that she didn’t remember that?” Winn frowned, trying to keep his cool, talking slow and soft, but urgently. “Dude, am I not allowed to not check an account for a couple’a days? And I didn’t de— Wait, is my shit deactivated? You’re fucking kidding, right? When the shit did that happen?” There was a slow and steady dread building in Winn’s gut, and they were lucky none of the neighbors had turned on their lights yet. “Noah, please, can we just go inside and talk? I didn’t run away. I was only supposed to be gone for, like, two days. I mean, I fucked up with fighting B, but, like, we were gonna talk about it when we got back? I thought. I need you to listen and not go fucking nuclear for a second because this is a stupid fucking misunderstanding.” And, okay, he may have pushed back. But Noah needed to cool the fuck off.

It was becoming harder and harder for Noah’s head to stay clear, the wolf inside of him wanting, no, craving the violence that seemed to be brewing between the two men. He hadn’t felt this type of anger in literal years, but the feeling came back to him the instant Winn pushed back. And the next thing he knew, they were both on the ground, Noah’s broken knuckles finding the solidness of Winn jawline. But the funny thing about punching someone with a broken fist was that it hurt. Feeling the pain start to radiate up his arm, Noah just looked at Winn, looked at where they were sprawled on the grass, and knew this wasn’t the answer. Luke had said that Winn needed understanding. But maybe, it was actually Noah who needed to be understood. Sitting there, still straddling Winn, Noah took a beat to breathe like Simon taught him, willing the emotions that were raging inside to calm. “I thought you were dead, Winn,” he whispered. “No call, no texts, not even some fucking morse code shit in the dirt.” Noah shook his head. He didn’t know exactly what he was trying to say. But he knew he had to say something, especially as the anger started slowly turning into a certain familiar sadness. “So, I’m sorry that I don't want to go inside and talk. I’m sorry that I’m angry. I’m sorry that I simply cannot fathom the choice that you made and the worry you put everyone through.” He shook his head again, good hand pressing on Winn’s chest, almost willing the other man to stay down. Because Winn needed to hear this. Or at least, Noah needed Winn to hear this. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t have a choice. Because you did, you and I both know that. You had a choice and you chose to leave.”

One second, Winn was pushing back on Noah, trying to get him to calm down. And the next, Winn was being knocked the fuck to the ground. His jaw throbbed as Noah pinned him, but Winn thought, maybe, that Noah’s hand hurt more. Because Winn had slugged someone with a broken hand before, and it was never a good idea. The last time he’d been under Noah had been, admittedly, less… intense. Equally weird, equally confusing. But less… raw. All Winn felt now was the force of Noah, telling Winn exactly how Winn had made him feel. And Winn wanted to push back, wanted to explain himself, wanted to let him know that this was a stupid misunderstanding. But, as he felt a hand push on his chest, he knew that wasn’t the right choice, not right now. And maybe this wouldn’t be the right choice either, but Winn had to try something. So, he leaned up, gently, pushing aside Noah’s good hand, and pulled the younger man down against him.

“Hey, hey,” Winn said, soft, soothingly, into Noah’s ear as they laid there in the grass. “I’m here now. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He could’ve waited. He should’ve waited. But he’d felt so strongly, so intensely, about needing to fix his mistakes, find his dad and explain. And all of that had happened, and Winn felt good now. But Winn felt awful, too. Because, even as Winn had been telling his dad about how much Noah and all the rest had meant to him, they’d thought he’d run away. They’d thought he had almost hurt Blanche and was disappearing to escape from his mistakes. And that hurt, that burned in his lungs, but it wasn’t important right now. He wasn’t important right now. No. Noah had to be the center of Winn’s concern right now. Winn ran his hand down Noah’s back, grip tight, unwilling to let the other man go. “I won’t leave,” Winn swallowed roughly, and, fuck, he was about to cry for a third time this week, “I won’t leave you, Noah. I promise, okay? I promise, I promise, I promise. I’ll never leave you. So long as you’ll have me, so long as you want me here, I’ll stay. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He brought one hand up to Noah’s hair, ran it through, held him tighter. Because Winn was scared, too. Scared to lose Noah. And he hadn’t thought that was even a possibility, but the thought petrified him. Winn inhaled, a shaky breath, and noticed something new, something that stuck in his throat and made him clench his eyes to stop the tears. Noah smelled like pack.

Noah could feel the last bits of anger that were still slowly burning in his belly fade completely as he let Winn pull him forward and into his arms. And yeah, it was weird and awkward to be full force straddle-hugging your bro (???) out in the open of your front lawn after midnight, but Noah was past the point of caring. Resting his face in the crook of the other’s neck as he talked, Noah just let the familiar scent waft over him. Winn was fine. Winn was here. And Winn was promising that he wasn’t going to leave him alone again. Sitting there, listening to the way the other man swallowed around all of these heavy words, Noah waited for the happiness to fill him. This was what he had been searching for right? Someone who would make it a point to stay. But it was at that moment that Noah realized this confession was not what he actually wanted. “Winn.” His voice was soft as he sat up, wanting the other to see the seriousness in his eyes. “I don’t want you to promise not to leave. Because you can leave. You are allowed to leave and go and do whatever you need to do. Just like I’m allowed to hate the everloving shit out of it.” He wasn’t going to guilt anyone into staying just because their staying made him feel better. That wasn’t what a healthy relationship/friendship/anyship was about. No, a healthy relationship was about knowing when it was time to put your past aside and grow up. Because even though it would hurt if/when Winn left, Noah would get through it. He already had. “Just please, just promise me you’ll say goodbye next time.” Noah whispered as he wiped at the one slow tear falling down his own cheek.

When Noah pushed out of his grip to lean up, Winn was worried that he had done something wrong. But the anger that Noah had was seemingly drained out of the other man, his voice calm, but serious. Noah’s eyes, in the soft light of the quarter Moon, felt like they saw something in Winn, but Winn couldn’t tell what. And then Noah was talking, and Winn’s heart, already something so open and soft, broke a little. Winn remembered their first encounter, the one Noah didn’t remember, remembered Noah’s voice as he’d talked about his brother, about his whole family, in the corner of the Arena. He’d kept that from Noah, wanted Noah to know he’d revealed something so personal to a stranger. But, now, Winn thought maybe he’d been wrong. Because, for all of the dumb misunderstanding that this situation was, if Winn had just realized how deep Noah’s hurt was, he knew that he would have told Noah, wouldn’t have let even the possibility of a misunderstanding happen.

“Noah,” Winn said, leaning forward to knock his head gently against Noah’s, his hands coming up to wipe at the streaks running down Noah’s face. His own eyes were soft, he knew, tender with all of the genuine remorse he contained. “That was a promise I made because I wanted to. I know I can go wherever I want, but that’s… not what I meant. I meant that, well… You’re stuck with me, now. I want you in my life, and I want you to come with me, if I have to go away. I don’t want to,” Winn swallowed, trying to figure out the words to give voice to the soft thrum beneath his skin, the certainty he felt, “This is gonna sound crazy, Noah, but I— My wolf called out to yours, and I know, I know you’re not a full wolf yet. But that doesn’t mean you ain’t pack. Doesn’t mean you aren’t… with me, now. Before the others, more than the others.” He took Noah’s good hand, brought it up to his heart, so Noah could feel it, steady and true. “It’s not guilt, it’s not me feelin’ like you’re holding me in. It’s what I feel, Noh. And what I feel is… I’m not gonna want to say goodbye to you. Not ever. Not if I can help it. But I promise. I promise to tell you, and that promise is simple, because… because it ain’t gonna happen.” He pulled Noah into another hug, the other man in his lap, and squeezed tight, the wolf inside of him together with Winn. And he was sure, even if he didn’t know quite what he was sure of.

Noah thought he was done with crying this week. He thought he was done with his emotions crashing down on him in waves. But with the feeling of Winn’s calloused fingertips on his cheek, Noah knew he was a goner, the tears flowing in earnest when Winn repositioned his hand to his heart. He’d never really been a cryer before Winn. But then again, he hadn't had many people come into his life that he hadn’t been prepared to lose somehow. At least not since the accident. Letting himself be hugged and held by Winn, Noah just breathed into the scent of him, wolf trying to memorize this feeling. He didn’t know what the word pack meant for him, hell, he didn’t even know the word wolf meant for him. But if it meant he’d get even just a sliver of this, maybe that was something he wanted. Noah wasn’t sure how long they sat there, or how long he would have let Winn sit there with him. But he knew eventually he’d have to end it. “Fu-ck,” Noah breathed out, wiping off the aftermath of his emotions with the back of his hand. “The neighbors are deffffffinitely gonna talk tomorrow,” he continued with a slight grin, sliding off of Winn’s lap and onto the grass next to him. “You’re okay, though, right? Like, no injuries or anything?” Running his good hand over Winn’s chest, Noah poked and prodded assessing Winn for any signs of damage.

“Only injury I have is from where you just punched me, buddy,” Winn said, cheekily. “And I think you might be the worse for wear there.” He wanted to pull Noah back into his lap, could feel himself blushing when Noah was poking at him, and was suddenly glad for the lateness of the hour. As it stood, he slung an arm around Noah, leaning into jokes, as usual, “And let the neighbors talk. I’d break a thousand community guidelines to make sure you were alright.” He turned his head to look at Noah, and felt the air punched out of him. The moon had come out from behind a cloud again, and it bathed Noah in soft white light. The late spring breeze blew through Noah’s hair, his eyes still a little shiny from where he’d been crying. Winn’s arm felt too warm, against Noah’s back, Noah’s hand too hot against Winn’s chest. No, Winn thought. I can’t.

But, whether it was the emotional intimacy, the raw moment they’d shared together, or a feeling Winn had been brushing off before, it was staring Winn in the face now. Winn could near feel his tail wagging, knew that both parts of him were at one in this moment, safe and relaxed and happy. His nose twitched, and Winn caught Noah’s scent again, woodsy and fresh and, was it weird to say he smelled green? Intermingled was, as Winn’s nose had told him earlier, the scents he associated with pack, but changed, just a little. The pine had a hint of the sea, the charcoal warmed him, like the fire was bigger somehow, and there were scents he didn’t have words for, yet. And Winn refused to sniff Noah again, but it all came crashing in at once. Winn moved his arm into the air, faking a yawn, needing to not touch Noah. “My, uh,” oh God, “my dad’s in the car?” His voice rose at the end, a mild panic setting in, sure that his dad could see him being a disaster — and would know what that meant. Winn hadn’t meant to, had known that liking a straight boy was doomed from the start. But there Noah was, in Winn’s heart, stubbornly taking up a corner for himself, as if to say You won’t be able to avoid this.

“Good.” Noah huffed, poking Winn’s (muscular) pectoral with a bit more force. He didn’t really regret punching Winn, but at the same time he still didn’t exactly want to exacerbate an existing injury or cause him too much bodily harm. He just wanted to cause the normal ‘you get on my last nerve bro’ amount, you know. “But yeah, probably not the smartest idea to punch with a half-healed hand.” His grin was a bit sheepish as he flexed his fingers a bit under the brace. His slow, janky werewolf healing had only done so much, but luckily for the both of them Noah’s bones were pretty much fused back together by this point. It was just residual pain and soreness he was feeling now. Or at least that’s what he hoped. Sitting there, Noah just looked at Winn waiting for the other to say something. But when Winn finally spoke he almost wished he hadn’t. “Wait, your dad? Your dad is in that car?” Noah’s eyes widened with what could only be described as sheer terror. Shit. Fuck. Winn’s father just saw him deck the living shit out of his son. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Scrambling to his feet, Noah pulled Winn up surprisingly quickly (and surprisingly forcefully for a dude with a broken hand) brushing off all the grass she could see in the moment. Because he did not just punch Winn in the face and then cry on top of him, no sir. He was civilized, okay? He was a good… friend, okay?

“Want me to kiss it better, bro?” Winn said before he could really stop himself. Thankfully, Winn was pretty sure Noah had only heard the bit about his dad. “Uhhh,” he said, being yanked up and stumbling for a moment. He felt Noah’s hands brushing him off, which, like, okay, down boy. But the stumble was going to turn into a fall if he didn’t steady himself. He threw one hand out, landing on Noah’s shoulder. The other grasped at his hip. And, oh, come on. He could hear his father laughing, even through the glass, and Winn whipped his head around to mouth ‘SLEEP’ as well as he could. The street was well lit, so hopefully his dad had seen him. He wanted to spare Noah some of the embarrassment. “Um, it’s, uh.” Winn hastily removed his hands from Noah’s body, shoving them in his pockets like a teenager. “He’s asleep, man. He’d sleep through a bomb.” And if Winn was talking louder than usual, well, hopefully Noah wouldn’t notice, and they could pretend his dad hadn’t seen that, and when Winn introduced Noah to his dad — uh, not like that — both of them could get away unscathed. “So, um, we prolly need to… talk, right? I mean, like, really talk? I can, um. I can stay, now? I’ll wake up Dad, get him to drive him and Den back to the house, and I’ll grab an Uber or somethin’ when we’re done?”

But, as if on cue, Winn’s head whipped around as he heard a howl, deep and mournful. It wasn’t a Full Moon. It didn’t sound like Luke. Shit, shit, shit. A number of terrible scenarios ran through Winn’s head, and he swung his head back around to look at Noah. “I— I don’t want to leave,” you, “but you— you heard that, right? That sounds…” He grabbed Noah’s good hand tightly between both of his, “I swear, I’ll be back tonight. And we can talk. Or we can talk tomorrow. Or any time. I just. I don’t want you to think this is me tryin’ to get out of talkin’, I’m just worried ‘bout whoever that was.” Winn’s frown deepened. Was. He sure hoped that wasn’t about to be literal.

Noah would have taken note of all the extra hand placements made by one Winn Woods, if he wasn’t straining to see inside of the car, his mind worrying about Winn’s dad more than Winn. He could deal with the later later, after all. Focusing back on Winn, Noah tried to get himself to calm down a little bit more, but that's when he heard it. It was faint, but it was there, his ears ringing with howling. Looking over to Winn, Noah saw his body language change, all this happy hopeful energy dissipating in and instant. Howling meant bad. Good. “Go.” Noah nodded, after Winn spoke, pushing the other man towards the car. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, but he held firm in his convictions. Someone else definitely needed Winn more than he did right now. “You don’t have to come back, just text me when you figure out what's up, okay?” Noah patted Winn’s shoulder gently, not really wanting to turn around and go back into the house but knowing he had to. So he did, slowly and deliberately, only stopping to look back at Winn and his dad once before he closed the door and bolted the lock.

[onisionhurtspeople]

Onision flirted with my little sister

This was in 2014. My sister was 12. She used to follow him on twitter and sometimes tweet at him. He did not follow her back nor did he ever tweet at her. After a while, she stopped tweeting at him because she lost hope that he would ever pay attention to her (I know it sounds pathetic but she was only 12 and a fangirl). Then one day he randomly DM’d her. She was so shocked but so happy. He asked her why she hadn’t tweeted at him in a while. He told her he looked forward to opening his notifications and seeing tweets from her every day. He said he missed them and seeing her pretty face (she had a real photo of herself on twitter as her profile pic). He also noticed that she hadn’t tweeted at all in over a month at the time and asked her if she was OKAY. He said he was worried and that she could talk to him if she was ever having a hard time and needed someone to talk to. She told him that there was nothing wrong, she just got bored of twitter and lost hope that any of her favorite youtubers would ever tweet her back. He kept pressing her and insisting that something must be wrong. She assured him that she was okay. Then he started asking her weird personal questions. He asked her if our dad was abusive. He asked about our home life and whether or not we had a dysfunctional family. It’s almost like he was trying to PROJECT abuse and dysfunction onto her.  She insisted that she was fine and our family was fine. I was 16 at the time. I was never a huge Onision fan but I was still a bit giddy knowing that a youtube celebrity was talking to my sister. Anyway, my sister would show me their DMs every time they talked. At first, they were innocent. They would talk maybe once or twice a week on average. He would just check in with her and see how she’s doing and then they would end up talking about silly things like telling jokes, sending each other emojis and sharing funny photos. Then after a few months, my sister turned 13. They were DMing each other and this is when it started to get creepy. He told her “13 is legal in lots of countries”. She was confused and said what? And he said “if we lived in another country I could date you”. She just laughed it off and didn’t take it seriously and said “yeah but you’ have a wife”. And he responded saying “but we have an open relationship” (this is before Lainey started her youtube channel, before she came out as Bisexual, and before she came out as polyamorous so I doubt they were in an “open relationship”).  My sister didn’t know what to say so she stopped responding for about 5 minutes and then he messaged her saying “i’m just kidding”. I told my sister she should stop talking to him because I was concerned for her safety at this point. I didn’t appreciate him “joking” with my little sister that way. She insisted that he was just joking and that I should calm down. So they continued talking but now my sister was secretive and wouldn’t show me their DM’s anymore. So I had to hack her twitter and read the DMs myself. There was nothing too scandalous or illegal said on his behalf but it was still nonetheless creepy. For example, she would post pictures of herself on twitter every once in a while, and he would send her a DM telling her she looks pretty. One time she put a picture of herself and put a poll on twitter asking her friends what she should do to her hair (the options were 1) Cut it to her shoulders 2) Leave it the same and get bangs 3) Cut it to her shoulders and get bangs. Well he DM’d her and told her she would look really cute if she cut it short into a pixie. She responded saying she doesn’t like short hair. He told her that girls who go against mainstream beauty standards are confident enough to be “different” are sexy. It disgusted me that he was telling her what she should do to her hair to look SEXY!! I deleted her twitter the moment I saw that.  I admitted to her that I deleted her twitter and she was mad but I threatened that if she makes a new one, I will tell mom and dad that she was talking to a grown man online. She agreed that she would stop talking to him and wouldnt go back on twitter.  Well one day I went on the family computer (me, my sister, our other sister, and little brother all shared a computer at the time) and I opened up Photobooth and noticed a bunch of pictures of her on it where she was trying to look sexy. I was alarmed. And then I noticed that she had ONISION written on her body in a few pictures. In one of the pix she had Onision written on her cleavage (and she was wearing a pushup bra trying to make it look like boobs were bigger in the photo). On another photo she had it written on her hand and she was showing it off to the camera. In other photos she was making kissy faces and trying desperately hard to look sexy. My sister didn’t have a cell phone back then so she used the built in webcam to take “selfies”. I was SO MAD when I saw these photos and went to go interogate her about the photos. She lied and said the photos were old (from months ago when she was talking to him on twitter) and that she forgot to delete them off photobooth. That’s a lie because they weren’t there months ago and also it says the date of the photos on photobooth and they were recent. She got mad at me and told me to mind my own business. She refused to answer any of my questions so I went and told our mom what happened. Our parents were so mad and interogated her but she refused to tell them why she took the photos and where she was communicating with onision. My parents ended up grounding her for a whole year and told her she cannot use the computer again until she’s 18. They took the computer away from the office downstairs and put it in my room and said only I can use it from now on and must put a password on it so none of my younger siblings can use it. I was already 17 by this time so they trusted me. Anyway, this was the end of my sister and onision’s friendship since she did not have a cell phone and did not have access to a computer. To this day, I still don’t know where or how she was communicating with him, or where she sent him those photos. Years later I discovered that he had a forum where other underage girls were sending photos of themselves with his name on their bodies so I’m guessing that maybe she submitted the photos to his forum? Or maybe she made another twitter and was DMing them to him and was clever enough to delete her browsing history? I don’t know. But the fact that he allowed underage girls to submit provacative photos of themselves to his forum is SICK! The fact that he was flirting with my sister on twitter is SICK! The fact that he was potentially flirting with her on a new twitter account and telling her to take sexy photos is SICK! I’m convinced this guy is a pedophile and a predator. 

Holy FUCK, dude. Do you think it would be possible to track down any of those Twitter DMs that he sent to your sister? I realize it’s been a while since this all went down, so I understand if you don’t; but it would be so, so helpful if you did. 

I don’t even know what to say. Just.. wow. What a fucking piece of trash.

[rowxngreen]

18 years old from tucker, atlanta and has lived in atlanta for 18 years . currently working as a computer repair person/staff at his family’s store in marietta [ kit , 25 , mst ] | @atlanta-rpg​

tw: self harm, depression, sexual assault, substance use

Age: 18

Gender: Transmasculine, he/him

[Boxcar - Jawbreakers] - “Uhhh, shit, I guess if I had to pick a theme song it’d be Boxcar. I like the whole vibe of it, like, calling out punk purists. Punk should have no room for purism. If you say you’re a punk and you’re not a nazi, cause in the words of Dead Kennedys ‘nazi punks fuck off,’ you’re welcome. That’s what the whole point of punk was, dude. It’s the ultimate counter culture movement ‘cause it welcomes fucking everyone unlike mainstream culture.”

D.O.B: February 14, 2001

“Why the name Rowan?”

“So, like, originally I was named Hannah. Which is totally a bullshit name and when I met my forever family I decided to give myself a new name and I wanted it to be all nature-y because they all had nature names. They like helped me look and I found Rowan and read this folklore about how a rowan tree was where the devil hanged his mother and I knew right then. That was my name.”

Ethnicity: Half white, half mestizo

Enneagram: 8

Relationship Status: single - “Single and definitely not ready to mingle. If it happens it happens but I sure as hell ain’t seeking it out and I don’t think it’s gonna happen anyways so it don’t fucking matter.”

Sexual Orientation: Unsure  “Yeah, I don’t really wanna think about sexy shit. I was raped as a kid, I’m not especially into remembering it. And all this sexual orientation shit makes me remember it.”

Appearance:

Height: 5’0

Build: Smaller than he looks from far away. He’s actually really tiny. And he hates it.

If he wasn’t so intimidating he could be cute. With a small stature, high cheekbones, a cocky swagger and big brown eyes he is definitely attractive. But the scowl that takes over his features whenever he’s around someone he doesn’t trust and the aggression that seems to exude from every pore disguises that attractiveness pretty well.

Ripped flannels paired with crop tops and t-shirts layered with fishnets are among Rowan’s signature looks. There’s something decidedly sexual about how he dresses but he doesn’t seem to register that. He just wears what he likes and hopes will scare people. He displays his self harm scars like a badge of honor – or insanity. They seem to warn: I AM UNSTABLE, DON’T FUCKING TALK TO ME.

Look at Rowan the wrong way and at the very least he’ll gnash his teeth at you. At the most he’ll pull a knife on you and threaten to gouge out your eyes if you ever look at him again. He claims he tried to once but that’s unlikely. He would be in jail if that was the case. …right? Better not to risk it.

History:

Rowan was born to a teenage mother in an abusive household.

When Melissa Webber got pregnant at only age 15 she knew she would be in trouble. Her father, Frank, wouldn’t approve. Melissa kept it from the man as long as she could. Eventually, of course, he found out. Frank was livid. Melissa was banned from leaving their little trailer, she was banned from seeing her friends, and she was even banned from seeing her boyfriend of just over a year and the father of her baby.  She was to be homeschooled for the rest of her high school career so, in the words of Frank, she could no longer “be a slut.”

Her baby was born on Valentine’s Day in a house with no love left. Melissa’s mother had died when Melissa was only 11, and it often felt like she took any warmth and care that had been lingering in the corners of rooms, hidden among the shadows with her. How funny then that Rowan, initially named Hannah Jane, was born on Valentine’s day.

Frank’s anger and the isolation he forced on Melissa eventually pushed the girl to run away. Rowan was only 6 months old. She initially swore she would be back for her baby when she had a safe place to stay. She never came back. Before Melissa left, Rowan had been largely ignored by Frank. Now, however, he became the scapegoat. Melissa hadn’t left because she was isolated from the world. Nor, apparently, had she left because of the intense abuse she faced. Instead, according to Frank, she had left because the baby had ruined her life.

Frank turned this rage on the baby. Rowan’s earliest memories involve him being tied onto a tiny children’s chair for hours because Frank didn’t want him to make a mess in the house; Frank coming into the bedroom at night to ‘visit’ with him in a way that, to this day, has left Rowan extremely anxious about sex and sex repulsed; Frank holding his hand against a hot burner to 'teach [him] a lesson’ (Rowan was never told what the lesson was); having his face pushed under water in the bath to stop him from crying; and other acts that could only be described as torture. Rowan lead an extremely isolated life for the first several years of his life. He was homeschooled, like his mother, and besides Frank and a handful of Frank’s friends he was largely alone. Most of his socialization came from the television. Frank justified this by saying school was how Melissa got pregnant so he wouldn’t “make the mistake of sending another one there to be a slut.” Instead rowan was kept inside the house during school hours.

It had been noted that Frank was capable of abuse and neglect when Melissa was little (she had spent several months in the system when she’d come to school with visible bruises as a child), however, for the first 7.5 years of Rowan’s life, overworked and under-competent social workers consistently overlooked the abuse in the Webber household. Eventually one of the social workers noticed and cared enough to go through the proper procedures to get Rowan out of that living situation. She reported it to her supervisor and a full scale investigation was launched. The abuse was soon discovered through talking to and examining Rowan and Rowan was removed from the situation. For the first time in his life, he was safe – though Rowan did not know what ‘safe’ meant or felt like yet.

Rowan was given a temporary placement in the Green household, because, at the time, the Greens were acting as an emergency house for children who had just been taken away from their parents. He was only supposed to be with them a week but the Green adults fell in love with the skittish, self reliant child they had taken in. They asked for him to stay with them and began the process of adopting him soon after.  It took a long time for Rowan to realize he was safe and he was loved. For months he put up with people touching him because he was afraid that if he spoke out he would face some sort of punishment. For months he distrusted everyone in the Green household despite how much they loved him. He was always wary, always waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to be hurt again. He was placed into therapy when he was young and has gone off and on since.

The Greens are a stereotypical homeschool family. Rowan was kid number 11, they own their own business and they bake their own bread. Mr. Green is a carpenter and Mrs. Green runs the little gift shop + bakery in Marietta. There were so many siblings that the older ones had to help care for the little ones when the younger ones were little. To this day the entire family is very close knit and the older siblings constantly rely on the younger ones to watch their children.

The Greens practice a form of schooling called unschooling. It is a child-led education where children get to decide what they study and when. Additionally, they’re what’s called whole-life unschoolers and the green parents take a stance on parenting where they don’t give their children orders. They talk to them and treat them as if they are capable of making their own choices and decisions, except when it is something that puts their health at risk.

Rowan thrives with that educational setting. He learned to read so he could use his brother’s computer, he learned math while cooking and found it fascinating so he learned it more in depth, he learned how to build robots and how to break into the coding of popular websites well enough that he even figured out how to monetize it when he was 12 (he tests websites for weaknesses and when he finds them he points it out and gets paid to do so). He learned how to play keyboard and guitar and began recording and publishing his music on Soundcloud and Youtube.

Within a few months of living with his new family, his new dad built him a beautiful, fully enclosed, treehouse in the large tree in their backyard. Rowan loved it so much he lived in it for almost a year only coming in to use the bathroom or on the most sweltering days when his family insisted he stay cool inside. He took his baths in the kiddie pool since he lived “outside in [his] own house now.”

Around this time he got a pirate costume and a knight costume. He changed his name to Rowan and began to trade off between wearing those two costumes. When he was in the knight costume he insisted on being called Brave Sir Rowan. When he was a pirate he insisted he was Cap’n Ro.

For a period of Rowan’s life you wouldn’t know he went through the abuse he went through. He seemed happy, healthy, well adjusted.

And then puberty hit.

With puberty came deep gender dysphoria. Suddenly his body was changing in ways he hated. He was developing curves and stopped growing. All the mental illness his family thought they had under control resurfaced along with a large new helping of self-loathing triggered by dysphoria.

Rowan began to self harm. It started small. He would lie in bed and fantasize about cutting off the parts of him that didn’t look right when he saw himself in the mirror. One night, he crawled out of bed and grabbed a kitchen knife and tried cutting his breasts just to see if it was possible. The scratch was so small it didn’t bleed. But, relief flooded through him. He was able to breathe and the crushing weight of dread had let up just a bit. He stopped crying and crawled back into bed and slept well for the first time in weeks.

Whenever he was upset he began to run to the sharp sting of a blade. He stole a pocket knife and a pack of razors and hid them in his treehouse. His family discovered the harm almost a year after he started. By then the little scratches had turned into proper injuries. He was immediately sent back to therapy and was diagnosed with gender dysphoria soon after. 

Rowan socially transitioned. It helped a little bit but pandora’s box was open. His brain had tasted self destruction and it was hooked.

The last several years have been a slow but steady spiral downwards. He made friends with other sad, breaking kids and they broke together. They began to experiment with alcohol and substance use young, Rowan would swear he’s fine but whenever you put alcohol in his hands he binge drinks to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. Whenever there’s a chance for him to get high off something new he takes it, barring only the most stigmatized of drugs.

Somewhere during this spiral he realized the easiest way to make people leave him alone was to scare them. So he began dressing in ways he thought would scare them and carrying himself like at any moment he could snap.

Personality:

“Sometimes I wonder what his life could have been if he had come to us as a baby and if we had known about his gender. You should have seen him when he was little. He was such a cute kid and was so passionate about, well, everything. And he’s so smart it’s intimidating. But then he hit puberty and we all lost what little stability he had. Last time I talked to mom, I heard he set a trashcan in the park on fire while he was drunk or high or both and it breaks my heart because I know he’s a good kid underneath it all. He’s just a good kid who’s really struggling right now. I hate it because I can’t even trust him to be alone with my kids anymore. What if that comes out around them and he hurts my crew?” – Clay Green, older brother.

“Rowan likes to act like he’s tough shit but he’s not. He can’t sleep unless he has his favorite stuffed animal with him and once I saw him crying over the sounds sloths make. The tough guy act is just that. An act. I mean, look at his cat. He only has the thing because he saw it was scared and got gentle with it. And now he’s the only person that cat tolerates and he has it perched in his tree house half the time so you can’t even go up there if you’re not him. Which, like, not cool when your little brother is practically sprinting to a drug addicted future and you really should be making sure he doesn’t have the worst of it in your parents house.” – Rosemary Green, older sister.

At first interaction it’s easy to think Rowan is all rough and ready to fight. And that’s exactly what he wants you to think. His fighter persona is designed to scare anyone who would hurt him away. Give him some time and a little patience and it becomes obvious that Rowan is much more complex than that. Rowan is confusing. There are so many elements to him that it’s hard for any one person to get a full picture of him.

There’s his brash fighter side – the part of him that stabbed a child for being mean to his sister once. There’s the sweet side of him that takes lost animals and lost people under his wing and cares for them when they can’t seem to care for themselves.

There’s the engineer part of him that builds useless robots constantly just because he’s bored. There’s the witch part of him that has an altar in his bedroom and that celebrates every pagan holiday he knows about so none of the gods feel left out.

There’s still a childlike part of him that hangs out in the tree fort his dad made him as a kid and still holds conversations between his stuffed animals. There’s the teenage part of him that’s looking for any substance to numb the pain of becoming an adult coupled with the pain of his past.

There’s the creative part of him that comes up with bizarre ideas for robots, off the wall pranks (like leaving loaves of homemade bread all over someone’s living space) and interprets almost every song he likes into his own version. And then there’s the part of him that named his cat “Cat.”

Rowan is nothing if not complicated and confusing. He doesn’t mind that though. He’s used to being the smartest person in any room he’s in but he doesn’t make it a big deal. He just watches everyone else and works on mentally figuring out how to fix the coding of whatever website he’s working on at the moment.

He doesn’t love easily but when he loves he loves deeply and unconditionally. If you find yourself lucky enough to be one of Rowan’s chosen few know you will have him on your side for life. He’s ride or die with everyone he cares about.

Hobbies:

Robotics

Singing (he actually has a really good voice)

Collecting stuffed animals

Programming

Baking (he works at a bakery but he also just enjoys it)

Sloths. They’re his favorite thing in this world and he is almost obsessive in his quest to see sloths, collect sloth mementos, and learn sloth facts.

Trivia:

Rowan has a car named Bloody Mary. It’s an old fashioned VW Beetle he spray painted black and red. He got a beetle because he “wanted to inspire violence in children.”

He’s really good with anything that uses his hands. Baking, playing guitar, building robots, etc. If it’s a hands-on, kinesthetic task Rowan excels at it.

He is terrified of butterflies and giraffes.

He collects stuffed animals so intensely that it can be hard to walk in his bedroom because there are so many stuffed animals lying around. He sleeps with a build-a-bear every night who he’s named Floyd and a stuffed animal of the Peanuts character Woodstock (who he has named Oscar).

Health:

Rowan downplays how he’s feeling most of the time. The physical abuse and neglect he faced as a child left him with chronic pain. He doesn’t mention it very often. He doesn’t want to admit to any weaknesses. If you watch him closely enough you’ll notice him rubbing his joints or squirming in his seat. Those are his biggest tells with his pain.

At 7 he was diagnosed with dyslexia and he still struggles to read and code (coding is worth the struggle, reading is not). At 13 he was diagnosed with gender dysphoria. Besides changing his pronouns he doesn’t seem too interested in transitioning (he’ll tell you he doesn’t see a point but in reality he’s afraid of the medical procedures involved). At 15 he was diagnosed with mood disorder not otherwise specified. He was given medication that he promptly threw out but he still attends weekly therapy sessions to try and help.

He doesn’t think it’s doing anything but sometimes it’s just easier to go along with the things expected of you.

Connections:

Bandmates: Rowan can either be the lead singer, guitar or bass/keyboards but the band should definitely be punk/post-punk influenced. I’m super broad within that. Want a sound closer to Pale Waves? Cool, sounds good. You into The Smiths and want that dance depression? kk, you got it. you into old school punk and want melvins vibe? coolcoolcool, love to live hard dude

Friends: Rowan might be a little shit but he’s a little shit who has a handful of friends. Because he’s the youngest sibling in his household, he gets along with older people really well.

Mentors: This lost teen needs people to look up to. It takes a lot to break through to him but he needs someone who’ll try.

Adversaries: These are people who rowan Does Not get along with. This can be for personality reasons or just simply because they try to keep him out of trouble and he wants very much to be in trouble.

Biological Dad: I love the idea of Rowan’s dad watching from the sidelines and watching Rowan grow up but not being able to legally reach out until Rowan is an adult. NOTE: Rowan’s dad needs to be hispanic. Rowan himself is half hispanic and it’s not on his mom’s side bc I wasn’t about to make the brown people abusive and add to that stigma.

Reluctant Romance: Rowan doesn’t want to date. He really doesn’t. BUT! I love the idea of him falling for someone and someone falling for him. I’m even down for an uncomfortable age difference so long as that’s acknowledged in plot. ;)

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Universe Falling

genre: sci-fi fantasy, wlw

words: 7k

summary: A young scientist starts communicating with the night sky, a love story across the universe

So it looked like I was going crazy. Actually, legitimately crazy.

Not the fun kind of crazy when your great aunt takes off her wig and dips it in the stew at family dinner in order to make your uncle shut up about his problem with bell-bottom jeans. Not evil crazy like your math teacher making everyone re-do their multiplication tables eighty times in a row after one kid swore.

It was crazy crazy.

My name is Francine Wesley.

And this is how I started talking to the night sky.

————————————–

When I was twelve years old I had a transfer student ask me if I was a pirate. I’m not sure if she meant it in a bad way or not, she hadn’t learned the pecking order yet- which was me and then everyone else up ahead. She asked me if the bandage over my left eye meant I was going to get a parrot and sail the seven seas.

I wish.

It was the year of the second surgery on my left eye, trying to correct it before the smudges at the edge of my vision started to devour everything else. My glasses were -25 and took up 55% of my small face at that age.

I was 12 and playing pirates and princesses with people who didn’t know why I couldn’t catch the ball when they threw it at me.

My father bought me my first official telescope that year, the year my grandpa passed away and left me all of his star charts and a broken down radio. I fixed the radio, I built the ladder up the tallest tree in my yard.

I traced the charts he left with my fingers, taking out a magnifying glass and looking and looking.

————–

They say math is the handwriting of God, that it breaks the world down into patterns and sense and definable movements.

I wasn’t sure about that, it felt more like God’s bad treasure map, one he put a lot of effort into making particularly unreadable sometimes. My mom was a math teacher, so it both helped and didn’t help at all. I hated most my other math teachers, they taught it wrong, I wasn’t fond of imaginary numbers, I never liked pi more than the average person, infinities were a headache. That didn’t stop me from beating all the boys at pop quizzes by the time I was in algebra one.

It was easier for me I think, smoother, faster, they said I was the quickest girl this side of the Cherry Creek. I didn’t know how to respond.

I didn’t like math, but I did like being told I was good at something, I did like what I could do with it, numbers and movements and the whole universe laid out. It got easier every time I did it.

That was the year that Cindy Claire took me to her birthday party, lifting me from the depths of social rejection, she said I was too pretty for the boys to be that mean. She wove flowers into my hair and asked if I liked anyone. I told her I didn’t know and we watched a movie with the captions on right in front of the screen.

That was the nicest thing anyone had done for me and Ratatouille is a beautiful movie when you’re barely looking.

She had a button nose and a splattering of freckles that curled and crawled around her body like paint flecks. I wanted to lick it up and watch her eyes light up, green as green fields and as wild as the western sky.

I entered a math tournament, she came and got asked out by every boy there, she laughed and said she already came with someone. I might have burst from joy if everything else inside me didn’t ache.

She grabbed my hand and said we were best friends and by that time next year she was dating the man she was going to marry and I was staring at the constellations in the sky like they were freckles. It’s easy to be in love with the sky and it’s easy to feel like breaking.

My dad was teaching me how to read his books under bright lights and a giant magnifying glass, my family always said I was like him- for better and worse.

———————-

I was seventeen when I had my license taken away, I only had it for one year but my mom told me she wouldn’t risk it. Not with a -30 prescriptions.

I was my father’s daughter and she wouldn’t see me driving myself off the side of the road when a blizzard rolled in. I lived in Northern Massachusetts, it snowed a lot that year.

I went to prom with Billy Eccleston, he didn’t know my middle name and I didn’t know his, but we sat in the back of his van and made out until my mouth went numb. I told myself this was probably how it was supposed to feel.

He tried to push my dress down and I wrinkled my nose and told him I was waiting for the right moment (and this wasn’t it), he rolled his eyes and reached for my glasses next, I bat his hand away. Now I was waiting for marriage.

He snorts and asked if I was still ‘actually getting out of this town soon?’ I nodded because this is why I accepted his prom invitation in the first place. We both wanted out- we could almost relate.

We both sigh at nothing and he kisses me again as I look over his left shoulder and watch the lights dance behind the cityscape.

I applied to 8 colleges and go into 6, my mom cried and my dad patted my head and I asked if I needed anything else- anything at all. He told me to get a dorm on the first floor and that he’d be there every weekend.

I cry, just a little bit.

———————————-

Everyone thinks it’s black, black like a setting sun or black like an airtight empty room. That it’s the night, the moment when you close your eyes and every color in the world is snuffed out.

A dark curtain, the thickest shadow over the world. But it’s not. It’s white.

Bright terrible light that floods and fleets into my vision, wavering colors and streaks of pure white, distracting as it is nonsense. I grit my teeth, it’s my sophomore year of college and I am squinting at the board and screeching in my head.

I was in the front row of the lecture and the professor was writing formulas on the board like his hand was on fire. I had a growing headache in my frontal lobe, I tell myself as I narrow my eyes at the board that I just needed to go to sleep, that it would be better in the morning.

My lip trembles and I take out my phone to get a close up of the board with my camera, trying to write and zoom at the same time.

“Any questions?” The professor asks as he turns around sternly, “this last one will be on the test.”

I flinch, was it too much to ask the world to iron itself out into a flat surface instead of a series of smudges and blurs? I see the professor turn in my direction and my stomach drops as I try to fix my expression.

Professor Chadwick was the ‘hardest bitch’ in the department as they called him and I couldn’t keep asking to come closer to the board in the middle of class. Soon I would just be licking the ink off of it to figure out what he had just written.

‘WRITE BIGGER’ is always on the tip of my tongue, but I just take another picture and wait.

“Got that?” He lets out a slew of theory before pointing at the clock as class comes to a close.

I’m almost up and out of my chair faster than a snap, I hurry to the board and finish taking pictures.

“Miss Wesley,” I jump at his voice. I barely turn my head as the five foot eleven man comes up to me, portly and round with a heavy dent in his forehead. He pats me on the back, “I saw your last test.”

I gulp and my lips pinch together, “uh, is this about Mrs. Dubois contacting you? Because I promise it won’t be distracting, I’ll just keep it on my desk.”

“I don’t care if you need five enhancers miss Wesley, that was some damn fine math.”

I raise my eyebrows, “thank you. I… studied?”

He chuckles, “you’re quick.” He pats my shoulder again, “and Mrs. Gregor says she likes the way you think. How would you like to intern for the department this summer?”

I blink only a couple times, “really?”

He nods with a sniff, “I see bright things in your future.”

My mouth was a little open and resist making the joke that I would be seeing a lot of bright things in my future too. I just nod instead, “thank you! Yes, I’d love to.”

That is the year I start working for Professor Chadwick and the university, it’s also the year that the government declares me legally blind.

—————————–

I had seven coworkers, two interns, and one sandwich place next to the observatory.

I was turning 28 in March and I hadn’t had a boyfriend since the last disaster of 2021. I was with sitting my back to the computers and a sandwich in my hand dripping mustard onto my lap.

The radio was on, playing ‘Winds of Fire’ as loud as it possibly could as I hear Sai Bhatia tapping her foot like she wanted to start a miniature cockroach band on the floor with it.

I moan loudly into my sandwich to let her know that it was both alright to take a break and hopefully expected. I had a feeling she resented me, but I also had a feeling that my next door neighbor was trying to summon ghosts in my driveway, so I wasn’t always a great judge of circumstance.

I was 27 and that still felt like it meant something.

“Woah,” both me and Sai pause as we hear a voice gasp from the other room. “Woah!” I sit up straight, “Dr. Wesley,” he says shrilly, “oh man, Dr. Bhatia!”

My skin was prickly as I stand up straight, “Rory, my boy, use your words.”

I hear some stumbling and chair screeching from the other room, “come look at this!”

I navigate my way into the next lab room, Rory, our grad student intern was standing next to the ROSTA computer and gesturing. I squint my eyes down and look both ways.

“Can you read it to me?”

“Yes, but you’re going to have to take a seat for this.”

I shake my head, “let’s get to the reading first, then we can see if any chairs need to be involved.”

“Let me see,” Dr. Bhatia clicks her heels over in a few strides, “did you locate the nearest asteroid cluster wavelengths?”

“No, but this electromagnetic field is enormous, and… weird? Really read. Listen to this,” he starts reading off the numbers and I perk up.

I only start leaning forward and my thoughts start racing, “This is saying it’s only a couple light years away, how the hell is that so close?” I turn to him, “Have we ever seen this before?”

He makes a couple non-committed gestures and points, “I’ve recorded it, we have to send this immediately.”

I nod quickly, “I’m going to scan some journals to see if this has ever been recorded before, how fast is it moving?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “but the camera picked up on some objects in it too.”

“Comets?” Dr. Bhatia was glancing over the numbers too.

“Dunno.”

I ruffle Rory’s bright red head, “hang in there kid.”

“Promise I’ll keep looking!”

I laugh and crack my knuckles, “let’s get to work.”

That was the first night, and it was a very long one at that.

—————–

Rory left around 3am, he said he needed to get back to his girlfriend, but even I could tell there were bags weighing his eyes down and a slump to his shoulders. And that was saying something.

Dr. Bhatia left just before dawn, not because she wanted to but because she hated the only donut place that delivered to our facility and someone had to eat a proper meal she said.

I was waiting expectantly for my Krispy Kremes when it hit six in the morning on a chilly fall day. I heard it first.

A radio buzz, bursting and calling as if this was a 1950s spy movie and the Russians were trying to jam our equipment, my eyebrows spike. I go to turn on the audio function to read the recent findings and digital images.

I pause when I start hearing the same repeating numbers: 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100

I furrow my brow, “what the hell?”

I bend down and try to squint at one of the digital pictures from our probe, I make a face. It was a very pink, a very large and pink blur.

Our mother university had called and told us to keep on an eye on the phenomena, it might be just a series of comets with some odd readings, but I was staring at something entirely different now. I couldn’t quite make sense of it, or make it out. But it was pink and bright.

01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100

I shouldn’t be getting numbers in this way.

“Okay computer,” I say stiffly, “but why?”

I sit down to start looking for the main patterns in the data as the numbers keep repeating and repeating.

—————————

I was going crazy, legitimately crazy.

There was only one pattern in the repeating readings of the magnetic field that made any sense, it was binary, of course it was binary. And it didn’t make any sense, why would our computer translate coordinates into binary?

Why would it read it out over and over? Our stuff was either breaking OR, unfortunately, the sky was somehow writing ‘hello’ to me.

Which was either first alien contact or a very sad local news article: bravely differently-abled scientist makes her way to the nut house.

Sky’s. Didn’t. Say. Hello.

Especially comets, what even lived in comets? There was a lot about the universe we didn’t know and the sudden small chance this was it sent a giddiness through my veins like no other.

It was new. It was never seen before. I don’t go home that night.

————–

I wake up on my desk the next morning in a puddle of my own drool and in front of a whole slew of numbers and a binary-language program open on my computer. Alongside a whole box of Krispy Kremes as the site of a tragic graveyard massacre of crumbs.

“What are these?” I hear a new voice enter and I wipe at the crust in my eyes.

“We’re being visited by aliens, haven’t you heard?” I yawn, “they’re very pink.”

“No, I mean, really, what am I looking at?” Dr. Chadwick had returned to the facility.

I crack my neck and stand up, “hell if I know.”

“Haha.”

“Just a little joke for your morning doctor.”

He sniffs loudly, “please come in here.”

I find my glasses and lurch my way to the room that I had just spent the last eleven hours in. I clear my throat, “Did you see the readings? It’s like the computer is possessed or something.”

“And by that you mean possessed by an angry ghost that erases our equipment?”

My eyebrows shoot up, “what?”

“Tell me what you see? And no, that isn’t a joke invitation.”

I lower my face into the paper and see nothing but an empty blackness. It was empty, a nothing, a black picture.

My head falls down, “what.. What?”

I was going crazy.

——————————-

I try not to be at the office the next day. Or the next.

I take some time off to scroll through my tinder notifications and visit the nearest pool to just sort of stick my feet in and sit in the sauna room until I melt. It was funny I left my small town in Massachusetts just enter another smaller town in Maine.

Who even went to Maine?

Scientists and bad decisions.

All of the data from the night before had been scrambled, we had still sent off the original points of magnetic radiation, but we were told it was just a phenomenon. An off reading.

I still had a couple handwritten notes, sloppy, large, and with one word in the middle: HELLO.

Fuck, hello. I tried that one on a few of my tinder matches and it didn’t quite feel the same after hearing it from the sky. Aliens existed and so did English binary in space apparently.

Or ghosts that knew computer binary and possessed equipment. Stars that could speak. The end of the world? And I was that one scientist who had to warn everyone about the danger and yet no one would believe me.

The film tagline: The Blind Girl Saw it All! But No one Could believe their eyes. The stars were speaking now, and they were pissed. Disaster movie 2028.

I lie on my belly in the sun and listen to an audio book about magic and intrigue. It was my second time trying to finish the Wheel of Time series and I was halfway asleep in the grass.

Something buzzes inside me: I should send something back, I blink a couple times. I should definitely try and send something.

Said every normal person right before they are eaten by space monsters.

I roll over and crawl over to my porch, it was time to break out my old CB radio that my grandfather left me. I take my time arranging the frequency and sitting on my roof that night, thinking, writing.

I tap out one clear, dotted message: hello.

I knew it wouldn’t carry very far, but somehow that wasn’t the point for me. I wait.

————————

It was the next day when I hear Dr. Bhatia in the next room. “I’m leaving.” She says loudly, “I’m not doing this again.”

I lift my eyebrows and turn around toward the computer room. “More weird numbers?”

Her heels click as she walks in, “it’s getting closer. I emailed the data points away quickly this time, but the second time I looked they all came up blank.”

I wrinkle my nose, “we’re being haunted.”

She sniffs, “And I’m not going to be the first brown person eaten in the movie.”

I laugh, “it’s okay. I’ll be the blind girl that tragically stumbles into the queens nest first and gets fed to her young.”

Dr. Bhatia snickers to herself, “yeah. And then Rory saves the day, it’s a blockbuster.”

We laugh together and I’m hoping the passive aggressive PhD comparisons fades. Even if I did get magna cum laude a year ahead of her- just for the record.

She pats me on the back, “go home too.”

“No way,” I stand up and crack my back, “finding new and unusual things is why I’m in the field. I’m like Velma from scooby doo, but sexier.”

“Sure,” she leans over my chair and points at my glasses, “an appropriate comparison.”

I grin, “extra hours never hurt.” I sing and I can make out her shaking head.

“I’m calling maintenance tomorrow to check for pigeons in the observatory dish again.”

I laugh, “I love talking to pigeons you know.”

She pats me on the back and the only thing left to do was hurry over to the next room, I turn on the audio readings and take out a pen. I jot down the numbers faster than the computer can speak.

It reverted once again from its usual numeral coordinates back into ones and zeroes. It was happening again.

But it was different.

Night number two: ‘can you hear me? Can you hear me? Can you hear me?’

I use the lab radio this time: yes, yes, yes. Yes.

The hard drive is all blank in the morning. Everything from the emails to outdoor cameras in the parking lot were left blank.

Maintenance was sent in twice, Rory jokes that the FBI was coming next with Scully and Mulder.

I tell him he’s Mulder already and that apparently makes his week and he makes coffee for me first for the rest of the night. But my skin is crawling, I wait for them to leave again.

Our equipment was breaking or I was talking to something, I consider bringing in more experts, new pairs of eyes to watch me contact it. But I have feeling it wouldn’t speak then, and I have a deeper fear that I didn’t want anyone else to see it anyway.

I wait until 3am, tapping, looking, waiting, the computer starts reading binary again, I translate quickly through my other computer.

‘I’ve seen you before, I’ve seen you before, I’ve seen you before.’

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. So this is the part of the movie where the alien comes down and uses me as it’s first meat puppet.

But it was also the part of the movie where every part of my being lights up.

‘Where? Why are you deleting our files? What are you doing? Who are you?’ I had prepared all of these binary questions the day before.

I only get back one word: ‘again. Again. Again.’

I hold my breath and write down as much as I can with pen and paper. The equipment is blank as a newborn baby the next day but I have the one word: again.

——————————-

November 10th 2028: the messages start. And it’s not possible, it should not be quick or easy or fast.

I knew something was wrong. But the binary in the sky comes back just as I type out a new message on the lab radio.

‘It’s been so long.’

‘How long?’ I ask, ‘Where are you?’

‘Too long.’

‘What do you see?’

‘You. It’s been so long.’

‘That’s kind of freaking me out.’ I finally tell whatever it is the truth.

‘Haha.’ I get back some sort of strange binary laugh. ‘I don’t mean to. You’re so small this time.’

‘Now you are really freaking me out. Why are you deleting the data?’

‘Goodnight my love.’

I don’t sleep that night or the next day or wonder why ‘my love’ was written in my notes as if my fingers were going through an earthquake. Of course, I could finally add: ‘at least the sky loves me’ on my next dating profile.

——————

November 11th 2028:

I ask first this time.

‘Do you have a name?’

‘Of course.’

‘Can you tell me?’

‘You may call me Heaven’

I sit up in my chair and my mouth hangs up, “Oh fuck,” I swear up and down and suddenly stop being an atheist for a second.

‘Heaven?’

‘Haha.’ I get back the same metallic laugh.

‘Heaven?’ I send again.

‘No.’

‘You made a joke.’

‘You are very funny when you are surprised.’

‘Can you see me?’ I write first.

‘Can you see me?’ Is the return.

I send a very short message, ‘let’s just say ‘no.’

‘You may call me ‘Texca’ until we meet again.” I translate the name over and over again until it looks like I got it right.

‘Texca?’ I send out quickly, some part of me knows it shouldn’t be this quick. It was light years away.

‘Yes. What is yours?’

‘What do you mean by ‘until we meet again?’ It was a long message to get out, it was almost five in the morning now.

‘That is a very long name.’

‘Haha. My name is Francine.’ I tell her quickly and the response is immediate.

‘Francine, Francine, Francine.’

‘Please,’ I type, hoping that weird ghost/deities/aliens knew begging. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Francine.’ Is written back, ‘goodnight my love.’

I lie on the floor and trace lines in the ceiling. I was surely losing it, but they would have to come shut me down before I stop.

——————-

November 12th 2028.

‘Francine.’ She (I now call it she) messages first.

‘Good morning!’

‘It really is.’

‘Is it morning where you are?’ I try to decipher where she is.

‘It’s always morning when I see you.’

‘Oh.’ My hands hover over the ‘dot dot’ button. ‘Are you making more jokes?’

‘No.’ Texca writes.

‘Can you really see me?’ I write again.

‘Yes,’ it says, ‘yes, yes, yes.’

‘How?’

‘You are very much a scientist.’

‘You know what a scientist is?’

‘I know what you are.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Up above.’

‘Okay?’

‘You’re confused.’

‘Yes!’

‘Haha,’ it said again and I sigh heavily, ‘give it time my love.’

‘I am frowning. Do you know what a frown is?’

It took a good ten minutes for me to translate the next couple messages, I groan when I find the right combination.

‘:)’

‘An alien with a sense of humor,’ I write back and stretch out as I savor my time in the ethers of nonsense. Of the impossible.

‘A human with one too.’

‘How are you doing this?’

‘Keep looking.’

‘Where?’ I sit up completely, ‘where?’

‘Goodnight my love.’

I put my head in my hands, hunch over and then groan so loudly I think it echoes off the lab walls.

I’m looking for something in a forest of weeds it feels like, no up, no down, just roots and questions.

———————

“So,” Sai Bhakti was sitting with her back up straight a pastry in her hand, “I hear you’ve been keeping long nights.”

I put my elbows on the table and lean forward, “can’t we talk about Game of the Thrones or something? We’re out of work for once.”

She cracks a smile, “I just hear you’re talking to ghosts.”

I sniff, “The ghost of the second monitor? I guess so.”

She pushes a pastry over to me, “God. We really did need to be kicked out of that office. Thank God for maintenance days.”

I bat a pastry back and forth in my hands, “do you think there’s a chance… I dunno, it’s not broken?”

She makes a face at me, “how? It’s erasing data points.”

“Well,” I frown, “there’s a lot in this universe we don’t understand.”

She leans forward, “like ghosts.”

“And aliens.”

“And bigfoot.”

I snort, “bigfoot is definitely involved.”

“You know,” she tucks a piece of long dark hair behind her ear, “you’re right. We don’t have to talk about work.”

We both stare at each other for a second and she leans back, I clear my throat, “how’s your husband?”

She shrugs, “the usual burden.” I raise my eyebrows and open my mouth, she puts her hand up, “lovable burden.”

I listen to her describe the problems of laundry day and having to share a bathroom with a man who cuts his toenails on the counter. But he made her dinner every night even on the nights she didn’t come home, so she assures me it’s working.

I nod, she starts eyeing me, “and you?” She narrows her eyes, “you’ve been more… chipper.”

“I’m always chipper,” I defend, “like a cheap socialite at an invite-only event.”

She smiles, “how’s the love life doctor?”

I stick my tongue out, “I can be chipper without another person involved.” It surely wasn’t a person anyway.

She studies me, “eat your pastry then.”

I take a bite and sigh into the sky, “okay. I mean. Something is… going on.”

“Something?”

“Something. But not like, dating something. Just something.”

“Ooh,” her features get sharp, “one that rhymes with one night hand?”

I couch on my own spit, “oh my God.”

“I’m not that young Fran.”

I crack a smile, “I mean. There have been a couple long nights,” I say mysteriously, “but nothing happens. And I think… I mean, I don’t know much about her.” Like if she had a body or ate or walked or breathed air.

I take a deep breath, “But she seems to like me? A lot?”

Sai hums loudly and sits up, “and how do you feel?”

I pause for the moment and stare up at nothing, “good?” I say slowly, “confused.”

“Ah, does she like you more than you like her?” She taps her chin again.

I tilt my head to the side, “I don’t know her.”

She shrugs, “then give it a chance.”

I smile down at my hands, “I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew her.”

Sai laughs softly, “is she odd?”

“The oddest.”

“Good,” Sai slaps her hands on the table, “you’ll match.”

I blow a stray piece of hair away from my face, “local pirate falls in love with the sky.”

She gives me a strange look, “come again?”

“Nothing.”

I wait for maintenance to check our equipment and I hope nothing changes.

————

November 15th 2028

‘How are you Texca?’ It’s the first night I have alone again.

The response is immediate, ‘where have you been?’

‘I thought you could see me?’

‘I was so worried.’

‘I’m here now. They were checking our observatory. You’ve caused quite a stir.’

‘I’m close.’

I sit up completely straight in my seat, ‘oh?’

‘I’m so close my love.’

‘Where? Where are you?’

‘Above,’ it says again and again, ‘I have something to tell you.’

‘Please,’ I say quickly, ‘yes, I am listening.’

‘I know you don’t remember.’

‘Remember what?’

‘But I am Texca,’ there is a long pause between those words, a buzz that comes across the speaker as the computer seems to almost fritz. ‘I have always loved you.’

My mouth is hanging open and I feel like the world will become completely white and empty after that second. ‘Why?’

‘Always,’ ‘always, ‘always.’

A screech comes over the speakers, the two programs working together to translate the binary into words starts showing numbers, symbols, nonsense, gibberish.

‘Always, always.’ It forms a simple elegant formation. And one last word, in English, no filter. ‘SOON.’

I hold my breath and wonder if this is when I walk into the alien queen’s lair and get eaten. I knew then that I would go willingly.

“Soon,” I whisper the word to myself like an electric thrill, something was happening, something I could never explain.

I fall asleep sitting against the cool wall of the observatory and try to make sense of things I see in the telescope, blurry shapes. Something pink.

———————

I wake up the next morning and the computer was smoking, Rory was dancing from foot to foot and trying to explain it to Dr. Chadwick.

“I didn’t do it!” He says shrilly, “I promise, I promise professor, please don’t fail me.”

Bob just sighs, “someone get maintenance in here again. And figure out what these damn numbers mean.”

“Wait,” I limp back up and feel the bruises on my body from spending the night against the wall.

Bob turns around, “and if it isn’t our favorite Cinderella. You do own a bed, don’t you? God knows I pay you enough.”

I shake my head, “wait.”

“Dr. Wesley didn’t do it either!” Rory defends quickly, “in fact, I did do it.”

“That’s very kind kid,” I make my way over and fumble for the audio button, “let me hear the numbers.”

“64.2008, 149.4937.”

I wipe at my face and stand up straight, I knew it in my gut. “Oh.” I blink, “someone get a map.”

“You think the numbers are for here?” The doctor asks and I nod.

“How do you know?”

I turn around, “I have to go.”

“Doctor?” Bob Chadwick turns to me, “are you alright, wait, Fran.”

I wave listlessly, “I’m taking a few days off.”

I don’t stop as they call after me, I knew it then. There was no going back.

I leave them a long note and all my coupons for the local restaurants.

————————–

The plane ride was $200 for one way since I was buying at last minute, I choose first class because why the hell not. I was treating myself as I chased strangers that were either playing the longest game prank ever. Or something else.

I was going to Nome Alaska on a Tuesday night.

The trip over is a dreamless hush of sleep that leaves me feeling empty and anxious in every crevice of my body. I was chasing something that erased data points and communicated in binary and had been watching me.

Which might say more about my mental state of being rather than things in the actual realms of possibility. But I had to go, I had to find out.

I get off at Anchorage in a wobbly daydream of consciousness and board a second tiny plane.

I sit between an old man with his cat under the seat and a teenager who talked on the phone with his mom before we took off. He was visiting his dad and she was worried about the spider bite he got last time he was there.

I almost start crying after we take off, I don’t know why.

We arrive at seven in the morning, the old man shakes me gently awake as we land and there are tear stains dripping down my cheeks again, I wipe my face and don’t say anything as I enter Nome Alaska.

It was another world if I had ever seen one, small colorful houses and empty streets. It was the middle of the winter so no one was out of their houses and very few visitors made it this far out.

I was lucky it was warmer than usual, but it still numbed my cheeks and shook my teeth to their roots as I stepped outside. I hurry to get inside the airport and pick up my simple bag- a large radio inside.

I took a long look out the airport window before tugging a hat further down on my ears and finding the nearest tourism desk.

A smiling yet surprised looking woman greets me, “Welcome to Nome Alaska! What can I do for you?”

I lift my chin up, “just a little help.”

“Will you be needing lodging miss?”

I just nod before taking a deep breath, “Yeah. Also, I have a question.”

She leans over the desk, “go right ahead.”

“Where is the best place to the see the sky around here?”

———————————–

I booked a room at a motel named ‘Linda’s’ met Linda and took a very long walk until my toes went number, which wasn’t very hard at all. I was living in Maine so I wasn’t not used to the cold.

But Nome Alaska was a different type of cold altogether. It wanted to eat you alive and leave the bones to freeze.

I kept walking.

The tour guide gave me some helpful tips: there’s a lot of great places with natural beauty around Nome! The snow and trees and little squat rural houses.

And snow.

I didn’t mind the snow and there were more stars here in this tiny chunk of the world than in all of Massachusetts combined. Nome had a glittering sky that went on in all directions, it was mostly all a big blur to me, but a beautiful one nonetheless.

I use my camera and magnify and magnify, following the path as far as it will go.

I follow it until I find a low hill with a view of the city just behind me, I sit down. I wait.

———————

November 20th.

Nothing on the radio, I call Dr. Bhatia, she says the equipment has returned to normal, though they had to throw out monitor two.

A woman at the local dinner refills my coffee five times and someone buys me a piece of cherry pie.

I pet someone’s Husky malamute in the street and wait.

———————

November 21st.

The sky is so big sometimes I’m afraid it’ll swallow me whole when I look up into it. I start shaking at night, the tear stains pepper down my cheek each morning I wake up.

There is silence at the other end of my radio and I wait. Perhaps there was a lead leak into my local water back in Maine. I dream of mad kings and beautiful pink princesses that never wake up from their enchanted slumber.

————————–

November 22nd.

Someone takes me out snowshoeing and the first winter storm rolls in that night, I don’t see any sky for days.

Linda’s says she’s going to stoke a fire in the common room if I want some strong whiskey and a game of poker. I lose thirty-two bucks that night and any sense of purpose.

“What are you doing here miss?” The man at the poker table asks twice.

I just shrug twice, “I dunno.”

They hum at that and then I lose thirty-three bucks that night.

——————–

November 25th.

The storm clears up and I don’t know how to tell the local residents that I am both Jewish and not here for Christmas. They are having a small parade in the city center nonetheless and every other person I meet tells me to come. I watch a tiny girl bundled up to her neck sing a Christmas carol as high pitched as a silver bell.

I clap, and I wait.

The sky is so large I’m afraid if I don’t hold onto something then it will suck me up into the vast cold above, sometimes I try to let go though and let it happen.

I’m afraid I really have lost my mind.

———————

December 2nd.

“They’ll be an aurora tonight,” Linda tells me that morning and I perk up, just a little bit.

“Oh,” I blink a little bit, “really?”

“I feel it. Yeah, will you still be around for that young lady?”

I hum, “I’ll try. I’ve booked a flight home on Thursday.”

She gives an old wizened smile, “shame. My son really liked your singing voice.”

I wipe my face and adjust my thick glasses, “that’s why I don’t drink whiskey anymore.”

“It’s always nice to have more people out this way!” She wipes the counter down and watches me, “for whatever reason they arrive for.”

I shrug listlessly and give an almost-smile, “early mid-life crisis.”

She chuckles, “hope it was a good one!”

I laugh, “it was.”

I wander around the city all day and hug the first loose dog I see, “do you know where you’re going sir?” I ask the dog as I pet his ears and he laps up my face.

Neither of us has much of an answer.

—————–

December 3rd.

I hear it before I see it. A buzz, a whistle, something like a whisper and a clanking sound all at once. “Told you, stranger!”

A crowd is pointing and picking up cameras, it’s night and I had missed my flight home, I start walking in the opposite direction of the crowd.

The buzzing and chiming increases like a soft caress eating away at me. I look up.

“Texca?” I call out into nothing as I hear it, the something. “Texca.”

There is something pink on the horizon, I start running, my eyes are prickling. I see the same hill I had found the first night I had arrived here.

I stumble and hobble through the snow, climbing and clawing my way to the top as I keep the colors of the night just in front of me. I can see their smears of greens and blues kissing the earth.

I squint and call, my voice rising in the wind. “Are you here!?” I raise my arms up, “were you real…?”

Maybe I already knew the answer. The greens shift to blue and yellow before my eyes, and pink, pink like flowers, pink like cats noses, pink like the universe.

I gasp and see something morph and shape above me, large enough so even I could make it out, large enough to steal my breath away. The night sky was alive with one word: my love.

The tears start freezing on my cheeks as they won’t stop flowing, “it’s been so long.”

I reach my shaking, hungry fingers up and grasp at the light. I see it, a figure, a being, something I couldn’t describe. Maybe we all were made of souls and stardust and perhaps soulmates exist in feral untamed universes.

Even if they must cross the galaxy to meet again.

My fingertips grace over something warm and I am overcome with something morphing out of the nothing. “My love,” a whisper, like a wish and a prayer and the rev of a car engine. “You came.”

I am enveloped in warmth and something drips down my body like melting candle wax, I close my arms and wrap my arms around the light.

“Hello, my love.”

And the sky devours me whole.

------------------------

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Game of Survival - Prologue

lil’ note: This was written really fast and not necessarily edited so fair warning if its terrible, but enjoy the fruits of my labor!! lol.

                  “Excuse me, Kane? I went down to the skybox to visit Monty and they said it was quarantined off? What’s wrong? Are they all ok?” The man in question turns to her slowly and gives her a long look.

        “So your the half-sister…” He puts emphasis on half as if the hyphenation is the only thing keeping him from shooting her into space like unwanted trash.

  “Yes. I’m Arden the half-sister of Monty green and I want to know what the hell is going on with my brother” she says as if daring him to do something considering he isn’t actually chancellor. Jaha was in recovery. He keeps a neutral expression on his face before sighing and answering.

         “It’s a medical issue take it up with Abby Griffin,” He says waving her off and walking away. Abby? So they were really sick? She makes her way to the medical wing as fear fills her mind thinking of Monty and Jasper being hurt. Upon arriving she sees Raven get there as well and she looks angry

      “Abby what’s going on with the sky box?” Raven confronts her loudly.

  “Yeah that’s what I came here to find out,” Arden says while crossing her arms. Abby hesitates before looking at the girls.

       “A sickness spread and were trying to contain it” She says shortly while both girls give each other looks of non-belief.

  “I was going to visit my boyfriend when they told me about the sickness, but I saw an open air duct why would it be open?” Raven asks as Jackson comes to stand beside abbey.

    “The sickness isn’t airborne that’s why the ariduct is open” Abby says as her eyes momentarily shift to the ground making Arden grow suspicious and cross her arms at abbey. Her eyes fix on Jackson and she notices him staring at abbey as if he’s waiting for her to say something she shouldn’t.

    “Alright well can you at least tell me if he’s ok?”

       “Us. If there ok?” Arden corrects coming to stand even closer beside raven to back her up.

  “No I can’t I’m sorry” Abby says to turn and walk away.

       “No your not” Raven mumbles under her breath but abbey heard it and started to turn back to the two girls now standing frustrated in diffusive stances as if there body language would help intimidate into giving them some answers.

       “First the drop ship now this. The councils hiding something.” Raven exclaims in irritation.

  “And were gonna find out what it is.” Arden exclaims as both girls turn to leave. Ravens walking briskly a bit ahead of her and Arden runs to catch up. Ravens only about an inch taller than her but man can she walk fast.

    “So how are we going to go about this?” She asks and raven barely spares her a glance as she replies.

  “We aren’t doing anything I don’t need your help.” Arden grabs onto her arm making both girls come to a halt in the middle of the bleak grey hallway of the Ark.

    “Look I get it if that’s how you do things normally. But you're not the only one with people that you care about in there, ok? And I’m gonna find out what’s going on to. So whether you like it or not looks like a mechanic and an engineer are gonna have to get along for once in history. Because it would be ridiculous to do it separately.” She states with conviction. A small impressed smirk appears on ravens face as she stared at the determined girl in front of her a moment.

    “Does anyone have a choice when it comes to you barging into their lives?” She asks with a teasing tone to her voice. Arden smiles’ knowing this was Ravens way of agreeing.

     “Nope.” She says making raven roll her eyes in exasperation before turning.

   “Ok. Follow me.” and they were off to brainstorm on how to figure out what was wrong with the prisoners in the skybox.                                                                                

****************

           “Abbey we have to stop, the council votes in thirty minutes” Jackson says as Abby types away on a computer. Arden couldn’t see much Atlas not with raven infant of her where she was spying at the two in the main computer haul.

         “What are they doing?” She whispers to raven who quickly shhh’s her. The girls had decided the best way to get answers wasn’t to ask questions but to listen in on the conversation. So far it wasn’t working the best but it was all they got.

         “Then we have thirty minutes” She hears Abby say in protest. Thirty minutes for what? What was the council planning? Did it have anything to do with Monty and Jasper…Even Finn? Was everyone in skybox ok?

         “They have every single person from sky box’s vital signs on the monitor next to a picture and there name” Raven whispers to her from behind making Arden want to push closer to look through the grate at what the other girl was seeing.

          ‘Why would they need that?’ Arden thinks to her self.

    “According to Sinclair even if we sent a signal down the wristbands weren’t designed to receive, so the kids wouldn’t even her it” She picks up Jacksons voice What are they talking about wristbands? Is that how there monitoring who the sick and not sick were in skybox? She thought doctors were most effective when they actually examined them. Not when she looked at here health through wristbands on a screen. There was so many ways that that could go wrong.

      “There has to be something we missed” Abby says as she sees her turn to Jackson over Ravens shoulder and through the grate. This was a Lot harder than she first had thought. Just then she could feel her foot slipping in her crouched position. ‘No no no’ it makes a squeak sound and she’s pausing holding her breath Raven side eyes her incredulously. But its not her fault that her foot fell asleep because they’d been crouched in such a small spot. Raven instantly climbs the latter that had gotten them own to where they were but before Arden could even grab on to the bottom Handle the door was being unlocked and abbey was barging in

     “Hey! Hey!” and dragging them both (to the best of her ability) into the room.

    “I’ll call security,” Jackson says planning to leave.

        “There not dying” Raven says as the all turn to her. What was she talking about? Had Raven figured something out that she hadn’t yet?

    “What are you talking about?” Her and Abbey ask at the same time then turning to each other in surprise.

  “All that’s being sent from the ground?” Raven asks.

      “What? The ground? that’s not possible its not surpassed to be survivable for another 100 years” Arden say’s the second part more to herself trying to wrap her head around the fact her brother was no longer safe on the ark even if it was in jail. How could the council be so heartless? There all just kids? Abby hesitantly grabs a medal band that was open and raven takes a holed of it.

    “Transmitted by these” Abby says And Arden eyes snap to her just as Abby gives her a guilty look

  “How could you even take that risk, your own daughter is one of them?” She asks incredulously.

      “We didn’t have a choice,” Abby says lowly as she looks towards raven who closed the band and gave all three of them a smirk

     “They’re taking them off,” She says while handing it to Arden to look at. She ran her finger over the sharp silver spikes that were built into it imagining how much it hurt Monty and jasper. Hell all of the kids when they put on them. Not wanting to look at it any longer she throws it towards Abby lightly who catches it.

    “Why would they do something so reckless?” Jackson asks making all the girls turn to him before setting there gaze back on all the screens.

    “Because we told them not too” Abby says with an astonished smirk on her face. Arden comes to stand beside her at the control panel and crosses her arms.

    “Lets also not forget that their rebellious teenagers with a criminal background… so to say”

*****************

             Walking into her family’s apartment Arden's mind was a jumbled mess. Her brother had been sent to the ground because the ark is dying and his life was disposable? For taking some weed out of farm stations rations? Why the hell did the Ark even have weed if not to use it? Her and Raven had promptly been told about there circumstances and all the little details up until the very moment when they’d caught the end of Abby and Jackson’s conversation and honestly that is a lot of information to take in in less than 3 hours time. Her father exiting from his room interrupted her train of thought.

    “Oh hey star shine how was your day?” Well that was a loaded question. She was practically bursting at the seems to tell him all the information shed acquired even the fact that Monty and jasper had been sent to the ground because life support is low and if the 100 didn’t make it at least the ark bought themselves more time because ya know who care about the lives of kids who already feel alone and unwanted in the world because the council could be selfish dicks.

     “Ya know, just the usual. Checking to see if all of the arks systems are operational making sure we have enough fuel” ‘we don’t' She says nonchalantly. She knew if she told her father she would end up exactly like Abby’s husband (who was really doing the right thing). And she had no idea what they would do to her father for knowing the information- oh wait they’d shoot him into space sucking all the air out of his lungs…just… like… Abby’s husband. She loved space, but she hates the Ark. Her father gave her a suspicious look when she didn’t make eye contact with him and fidgeted with her fingers. Truth was she didn’t know how to lie to her father. They’d been open with each other about everything since day one. Even things most kids would be flustered and embarrassed about being honest with the parents about.

      “Star shine is everything alright? You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong. Like with work or anything?” ‘I can’t dad not really, not when this time it could cost you your life’ she thinks to herself. She heaves a sigh and looks at him giving him a small smile.

     “Honestly no I’m just a bit stressed, but it will be. It’s gonna be alright” He gives her a wide smile one she’s known since she was a child and she couldn’t help but think Monty had his smile.

     “That’s my star shine. But if it gets to much you can tell Me.” her smile widens at that. She always thought she had the greatest dad in the world

     “Yeah dad I know” He goes into the kitchen and grabs an apple and takes a bite walking back towards her. He swallows leans down and kisses her on the head and walking to the door.

     “Well star shine I’m headed to work, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” He says with a wink knowing he’s never done anything bad in his life.

     “No promises,” She calls out before the door closes. She always felt more calm around her family, but now wasn’t the time to be calm she needed to find Raven and Abby and figure out a way to help her brother and Jasper.

***************

       She met up with Raven not long after knowing that the council was going to meet up shortly to discuss what was going to happen on the ark and with all the kids on the ground. Why was she not surprised that Marcus Kane was more than happy with the idea of killing 300 people from the Ark? His tyrannical dream of being chancellor and doing anything to get it was getting real old to Arden real fast. Walking in to the main mechanics room she sees Sinclair, he looks up and notices her with Raven and they share a smile.

     “Well I never thought id see the day were my Raven was willingly hanging out with an engineer,” Raven rolled her eyes as Sinclair comes to hug Arden.

     “Ha. Ha very funny.” Raven retorts back to him as they all began talking and passing time till they could figure out there next move for how they could help the 100 and the Ark as a whole. Not 20 minutes later and Sinclair got a call on the walkie apparently someone needed a mechanic and engineer pronto Arden just wanted to know who messed up so royal that they needed both of them.

      Walking down the hall to the address Sinclair told them to go to the girls approach a closed door. They give each other a confused look while taking in their surroundings, they were in the lower leaves of the go-sci ring and personally Arden couldn’t remember if she’d ever actually been down here. Raven holds a comm button down before speaking into it

   “Did someone call for a mechanic and engineer?’” She asked hesitantly still not knowing why they were needed way down here. Both girls are shocked when the door unlocks and slides open revealing Abbey griffin. At this point in the day should they really be surprised?

   “Your the one who called in the work order?” Raven asks Abby.

   “Should we really be surprised Rave?” Arden directs at her using the new nickname she gave her only 20 minutes ago as Raven shoots her a side eye. She knew it wasn’t ravens favorite, which was all the more reason for her to use it.

    “Girls we need to talk’” Abby says ignoring both of the girls previous comments. She side steps letting he girls walk in one after the other. Arden thought it smelt a bit like what blood taste like after you split your lip, Pure medal with a copper burn in the back of the nostrils. Looking around it was no surprise. Just guts of wires hanging from exposed areas were medal was peeled back. This room had to have been ignored since the Ark was formed. And wow did a 100 years of neglect really run a place down.

   “Look we told you we weren’t going to say anything ok?” Raven try’s to assure Abbey not really knowing why she wanted them here. Arden just kept assessing her surroundings.

   “I believe you and neither of you are in trouble. Follow me.” Abby claims. That got Arden’s attention and she curiously followed close behind Abbey as Raven hesitantly only followed because Arden went after so fast. 'Who knows what dangers she could get herself into she’s not wary of people for shit’ Raven thought

    “Not in trouble yet you mean.” She mumbles to herself

   “This levels off limits for people like us’” She exclaims glancing at Arden while crossing her arms, still suspicious of Abbey’s intentions.

     “Oh Rave, where’s your since of adventure?” Arden teases while standing next to Abbey still excited about whatever griffin wanted to show them. Abby smiles at Arden before turning to Raven

   “Not anymore. You both know that we sent the 100 to the ground, what you don’t know is why. The Ark is dying girls life support is on its last legs… I have ten days to prove that Earth is survivable or there gonna start reducing population. 320 innocent people would be killed.” The words that pass through Abbey’s lips make Arden feel light headed. So here she thought Monty was the one in danger. When all along the Ark was coming to an end and he got out (more or less) she leaned against the wall not even caring when some of the wire pocked into her hand.

     “I don’t get it. Why are you telling us this?” Raven questions as Arden sucks in a deep breath to control her emotions. She could freak about this later but not now.

   “Because I looked up your files, Very impressive. Raven you’re the youngest zero-G mechanic in over 50 years. And Arden you your the first Aerospace engineer to ever graduate early and at the top the class.”

   “52 but… so what?” Raven asks

  “So…” Abby begins to pull a tarp down from cover an object making Arden push off the wall and come stand beside Raven. Once its down they notice its an old pod from the first Space station to form the Ark.

   “You have 9 days to get this ready so I can survive a drop.” Arden honestly didn’t know how much more top secret info she could panel today. And she was sure this was extremely illegal looks like the joke she made with her dad was going to come true. Both girls approached the ship to examine it. ‘Boy is this a piece of work’ Arden thinks as Raven hits it a few times.

    “God what a piece of junk.” Raven exclaims mostly to herself but Arden hears it.

  “Ill say,” Arden agrees.

      “They must have found this thing when they salvaged MIR-3 in 2102.” ‘God this is going to take a miracle’ Arden thinks

    “Which is ancient’” She exclaims out loud after ravens comment about the pods age.

        “You want us to get a 130 year old escape pod ready to stand up to the inferno of reentry in nine days?” Raven says looking from the pod to abbey who had a determined look on her face.

    “Can you do it or not?” She asks the girls.

  “Hell yes we can but Abby if your going to Earth I’m going with you. You’re not the only one with someone you love on the ground’” Raven says when Abbey goes to protest.

    “Like hell I’m letting either one of you go alone, you’ll need help and my brothers down there.” Arden says speaking up determinedly making the others stare at her. Raven then turns back to Abby.

   “Those are our terms.” “Take it or leave it,” both girls say staring the older Griffin down. After a long bout of silence as abbey thinks about what the said she speaks up.

   “Alright you can come with me.” She says with only a sliver of uncertainty in her tone.

  “Looks like you got yourself a mechanic.” Raven smiles.

    “One Aerospace engineer at your service.” Arden says as both girls start looking at the craft and deciding what they needed to get started on fixing it. After all they only have 9 days.

[styomi]

Fifteen study dates | 15-day prompt challenge | Sweet Pea/OC | Day 2

AN: Here is the next part of the series for you guys to enjoy :) Keep in mind that these are spread out weirdly over the timeline. Hence, there are moments which come before Sweet Pea and Ruby are in a relationship and those that are after they start going out :D

Info:

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Sweet Pea/OC Rating: T Word count:1625 Chapter count:2/15

             How to prepare for a study date (?) like a proper gentleman

“It’s a date,” Toni told him pointedly, her eyes widening as she was making her point.

“No, it’s not,” Sweet Pea brushed her off with a huff. “We’re just going to study.” Fangs choked on his sandwich, Toni hitting his back lightly to help him breathe again.

“It’s a study date,” she shot back at Sweet Pea. “In the end, it’s a date, regardless. You’re supposed to treat it accordingly.” Fangs was now giggling uncontrollably, which was an odd action for a bulky teen such as himself. Yet, it was a bit too familiar to his two best friends.

“What, should I bring flowers or something?” Sweet Pea shot back in a sarcastic tone. Toni didn’t back down, though.

“Or something,” she scolded him. “At least kiss her and be prepared to do a little more.” Fangs choked on the next bite of his sandwich again, helping the food go down with a swig from his soda can.

“Sure, sure,” Sweet Pea dismissed the whole thing with a casual shrug. But, his two friends could see the color on his cheeks, regardless. “I’m always ready to a little more, she isn’t.”

“You have to set the mood, man,” Fangs abandoned his sandwich in favor of advising his friend. He didn’t want to choke on it for the third time. It had obviously been bad luck to buy it on the Northside or something. “Get her something she likes, cozy up to her and then, you know, keep going.” The teen mimicked an action of running his hands over an invisible female figure.

“Yeah,” Sweet Pea’s tone was sarcasm in its purest form. “’Cause that sounds like something Ruby would appreciate. She’d kick my ass, dude.” Fangs shrugged as if saying that he’d tried to help.

“Ruby would like it,” Toni interjected. “The two of us have had plenty of girls’ nights, you know. She isn’t frigid like you’re obviously thinking. Just be smooth on the date.”

“For the last time, it’s not a date,” Sweet Pea grumbled. “We don’t date. We hang out. And, I don’t think she’s frigid.” Toni’s hands shot up, before she groaned, sighed and gave up.

“I tried,” the girl said to no one in particular, in absolute exasperation. “I really did. You can’t be helped, Sweet Pea.” But, in the end, Toni and Fangs had helped. Their little squabble hadn’t left Sweet Pea’s mind as he got ready to head over to Ruby’s place for a study session, session, not date, and he took his sweet time choosing an outfit.

The one thing Sweet Pea really liked about hanging out with Ruby, even after their friendship had turned into something more, was that he never felt like he had to try hard and work for it. It all came naturally. She came naturally to him, like breathing or eating. Kissing her wasn’t a chore he dreaded and prepared for. It was a natural reaction to something she said or did. Texting her to go somewhere together was as easy as gathering the younger Serpents to head out to the quarry on a summer afternoon. Ruby was a person he enjoyed. In every sense of the word, completely and effortlessly. So, standing in the mirror and re-dressing a few times had definitely been a first for him when it came to a study session with her. After all, it wasn’t the first time they’d done something like that. But, it was the first time they were doing it since they’d had their number of kisses and more than friendly hugs.

Finally, Sweet Pea settled on a pair of dark jeans that fit comfortably and a grey loose shirt. He slipped a flannel button up over, leaving it unbuttoned and then tugged his Serpents’ jacket over it all. With a final check in the mirror, he decided that it was as good as it was going to get for a small study date. No, session. Because it wasn’t a date. It was a study session.

On his way to her place, he wondered if he should heed Toni’s advice and bring Ruby something she liked. Flowers would’ve definitely been over the top, but he knew one thing that she loved even more than life itself. So, smirking at his own brilliance and hoping that he wouldn’t be late because of the small stop, Sweet Pea turned his bike right, instead of continuing straight over the tracks, and headed for the convenience store he knew would still be open.

He arrived late because the cashier was a new kid who fumbled with his receipt and had to enter every single barcode into the computer. But, his backpack was heavy with more than just his books. Chili, Ruby’s grey Stafford, greeted him with barking and happy jumps at the iron gates of the Wolfe property. He managed to get the dog to back away so that he could roll his bike in, and they walked to the top of the driveway together, Chili sniffing all over his legs. Petting the dog in an attempt to get him to calm down, which didn’t work, the tall teen rang the doorbell.

“Coming!” Ruby’s voice sounded from inside, muffled. Then, the door swung open in a quick motion. The girl looked a bit out of breath like she’d flown down the stairs of her house, instead of walking. And, she probably had. “Sweet Pea, hey,” he noted that she looked like she had put on make-up. Ruby usually didn’t bother with it, so that was a bit odd. Her lips were glistening and her eyes seemed bigger. Yes, she’d definitely put some make-up on. “Come in. Chili, no.” The dog seemed dejected to be left outside, but his ears soon perked up at a sound coming from their yard and he tore down that way.

“Where’s he off to?” Sweet Pea asked, entering.

“Probably a mole,” Ruby sighed. “We’ve been having some issues with them and Chili loves playing with them. He won’t kill them, but he will play. Dad’s been going crazy and threatening to buy a hammer to play whack-a-mole. They’re ruining his gardening attempts.” The image of Ruby’s father, the former SEAL, with a hammer, seemed positively terrifying in Sweet Pea’s head.

“We’re in the living room?” He asked, trying to shake the chills off. Jo Wolfe was scary as hell and loved his daughter. Sweet Pea still thanked God that the man hadn’t been too bothered with the two of them doing… whatever it was that they were doing.

“No, my room,” Ruby grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. “Dad’s having some friends over later and forbade me to make a mess downstairs.” The Wolfe house was as massive as always, making Sweet Pea feel out of place. Being in the family for a few generations, it had been built in an old, Victorian style, with two stories. Ruby’s room, which he had only visited with Toni and Fangs twice, was on the upper floor and straight down the hallway.

“Should I get lost before the guests arrive?” Sweet Pea asked as Ruby opened the door of her space and entered, not noticing how he awkwardly lingered in the doorway for a second.

“Nonsense, I told dad you’re coming over for a study date.” Date. She’d said it. Not Toni or Fangs. Ruby had said it. Suddenly, Sweet Pea was very much glad that he had made a stop on his way.

“Alright.” He decided that sitting on her bed wasn’t safe and opted to go to the window seat next to it. After all, Ruby’s books were already there.

“Do you want some snacks or something to drink?” Ever the polite host, the girl asked. She took his jacket when he shrugged it off and tossed it on her bed. On the teal and white covers, it looked somehow exotically out of place. Yet, it was like staking a claim over the bed, which brought warmth to Sweet Pea’s chest.

“I’ve got snacks covered if you’ve got drinks.” Sweet Pea opened his backpack and pulled out his notebook, the only study material he ever had, before flipping the bag over the window seat. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, M & M packets, Hershey’s kisses and chocolate chip cookies, Skittles, Snickers and various other packets of chocolate-based goods fell out, filling the seat and falling to the soft carpet on the floor.

“Holy. Mother. Of. God,” Ruby’s eyes were wide and filled with pure adoration as she stared at the pile. Sweet Pea’s chest filled with heat completely. He’d done the right thing, apparently. “Are you trying to seduce me, or something?” She cheekily asked him with a smirk pulling at her lips.

“Maybe, short stuff.” Sweet Pea replied with a grin of his own. This was a game he knew how to play. He was comfortable doing it, too. He’d had this kind of push and pull with Ruby since day one.

“Consider me willing and able, then,” she bounded over to him, taking the lapels of his flannel shirt and pulling him down for a brief kiss. Sweet Pea was a bit surprised to feel her deepen it, exploring his mouth gently with her tongue. That was usually something that he did, and more than often it got her to pull away. Obviously, he had done everything right that evening. “I’ll get us some drinks and then we can start.” Ruby left him, a little breathless, standing in her bedroom. He felt comfortable for the first time since his talk with Toni and Fangs. Chocolate was, apparently, the way to Ruby’s heart. Or pants. Either way, Sweet Pea considered this study date a success already. Yes, the study date.

That’s all for now, folks!

I hope that you enjoyed it and do let me know if you want to be tagged in the future posts :D

Day 1: A way to memorize Day 3:  With proper motivation, anything is possible Day 4:  PG13 PDA sugar can be good motivation Day 5: Autumn time is picnic time  Day 6: It’s best when we can compete Day 7:  Master of procrastination and his jailer Day 8: Take me anywhere, everywhere, away from here   Day 9:  Dirty French for beginners   Day 10:  I need… sleep?… no, you…   Day 11:  Delirium   Day 12: Stay still for me   Day 13:  Debate? Apparently, a turn-on   Day 14: Two-seater and Chinese   Day 15:  Unintentional intentions  

Cheers!

[tonystarkssnipples]

December/January fic recs

In Your Company by mrhd Rating: E Word Count: 64118 Summary: They meet at a party. (MCU College AU)

Open Field in Front of Him Rating: E Word Count: 66405 Summary: Steve Rogers's football season is functionally over after a loss to Rutgers, but he finds a distraction in Tony Stark (yes, THAT Tony Stark). A college AU Stony fic.

ten years too late (just in time) by theappleppielifestyle Rating: Not Rated Word Count: 3,080 Summary: Steve never went out with Tony when they were young despite Tony's attempts at wooing him, mostly because he thought Tony was too much of a flimsy playboy who could never really commit seriously to anything that wasn't partying. Years later he runs into Single Father Tony taking care of his 3 year old. Tony refuses to buy his kid candy before dinner and is overall a pretty decent dad. Tony also thinks Steve could never be interested in him, since he was always rebuffed before, but Tony's in for a surprise.

The Billionaire and the Army Captian by Neverever Rating: T Word Count: 12652 Summary: Facing finanical ruin and needing to care for his sick daughter, Steve Rogers agrees to marry Tony Stark, who needs to get married by his 30th birthday to inherit. It's just a job for Steve until he starts to fall for the enigmatic billionaire Written for the MCU Harlequin Challenge.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side of Me by ann2who Rating: E Word Count: 16855 (WIP) Summary: In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

i spent twenty lifetimes at your door by goodmorningbeloved Rating: T Word Count: 2636 Summary: The sheets don’t smell like Steve, not anymore. Whatever has him crawling back must be something rooted into the very walls of the room itself. Or in you, his thoughts whisper.- Or: Five times after the split that Tony seeks out Steve in his sleep, and one time he doesn't.

Better Angels/Lesser Demons (series) by sabrecmc Rating: E Word Count: 34,550 Summary: Chris Evans mentioned in an interview (jokingly, unfortunately) that there was a deleted scene from Civil War with him and RDJ showering together. Welp. Headcanon accepted. // Peggy leaves Steve something in her will. Sequel to Better Angels, but can be read alone.

Would You Have Married Me? by 1000mileshigh Rating: M Word Count: 2213 Summary: The band was smooth, a rose gold studded with rubies around one half. It was gorgeous, everything Tony didn't know he wanted. It fit perfectly, so perfectly, as if it was meant to be right where it was, on Tony's left ring finger. Tony fell in love and then loudly, so forcefully it came out as a scream of agony, he fell apart.

Why We Should Date by sariane Rating: G Word Count: 2217 Summary: Steve doesn't understand modern dating customs. That's how he ends up making a PowerPoint presentation for Tony.

The Tony Stark Relationship Primer (series) by uraneia Rating: E Word Count: 14,622 Summary: Steve needs to make some quick cash to cover his mom's TB treatment and hospital stay. Bucky convinces him to try porn. Steve's not sure he'll be able to go through with it... until he meets Tony, the guy he's supposed to do his screen test with. // "Pepper, I need a million dollars to suppress a sex tape."Tony Stark has a date. But first he has to explain to his CEO that he picked up a guy at a porn shoot.

The A-Z of Tony and Steve (series) by snarkstark Rating: G Word Count: 2,360 Summary: Maybe when the blonde haired dreamer had packed up his shit and told his Ma he was leaving Brooklyn to make his fame in Hollywood, he hadn't exactly pictured himself fetching coffee and embarrassing himself, but he was on the set of the most highly anticipated film of the entire year, and personal assistant to one of the biggest names in Hollywood. Tony Stark. // Tony took a deep breath, trying to summon up all of his courage. For fuck's sake, he'd flew into a wormhole, fought countless villains and made a suit of armour that made other engineer's intentions look like a Goddamn potato radio. He could ask Steve Rogers on a date. Or Tony is extra and Steve liked baseball.

My New Year’s Resolutions Is You by izazov Rating: G Word Count: 1,114 Summary: Steve, Tony, and New Year's Eve in Venice.

Tony’s Big Gay Freak-Out by imafriendlydalek Rating: T Word Count: 1004 Summary: Tony's having a Moment. It's a good thing Rhodey is there to talk some sense into him.

The Stark Scenic Retreat by McG Rating: G Word: Count: 22403 Summary: Steve Rogers is the newest member of the Visitor Reception Team at the Stark Scenic Retreat (or SSR for short): a ten square mile woodland estate built by Howard Stark, in upstate New York: a playground for invention. The site is now in the care of the Society for the preservation of Historic Industrial and Engineering Landmarks and Domains (S.H.I.E.L.D.) As Steve gets to grips with life after the army, being reunited with his friend Bucky, and working at a busy tourist attraction, the SSR faces its own challenges. Justin Hammer wants to convert it to a spa hotel and resort, and Tony Stark, main benefactor and SSR shareholder, is caught up in his own issues and seems unwilling to help save Steve's new home and family. Or a story of team bonding, team building, pride and prejudice, and the daily trials of working in the customer-facing environment of tourism.

Double-Blind (Get Me Back In This World) by navaan Rating: E Word Count: 31924 Summary: Shortly after being defrosted, Steve meets a handsome stranger at a party and has the certain epiphany that sex is a good way to reconnect with the world that is now so strange to him. Because one thing that hasn’t changed is that sex is simple. That the man seems to hate the very thought of Captain America makes it even easier for some reason. Or the one in which Steve sleeps with someone called Henry Hellrung. Although - not really.

just the way you look tonight by goodmorningbeloved Rating: E Word Count: 3164 Summary: Tony's sweater shrinks. Steve's okay with it.

Good For You by orbingarrow Rating: T Word Count: 42131 Summary: Steve doesn't understand why Tony dates people who abuse him. Tony doesn't understand why Steve cares. The rest is bad choices, good choices, rehab, milkshakes, paintball, YouTube videos, couples therapy and learning to put the past in the past. Or: How Tony finds his happy ending.

Place Your Bets by RurouniHime Rating: M Word Count: 35999 Summary: Steve Rogers may or may not have just picked up a prostitute. This may or may not be Tony Stark’s fault.

Double or Nothing by RurouniHime Rating: E Word Count: 5757 Summary: One of these days, they're actually going to get that sleepover. Steve's patient, Tony's determined, and Bucky is... wait, what's the opposite of helping? (otherwise known as the sex-filled sequel to Place Your Bets)

Driven to Distraction by Morningandnight13 Rating: M Word Count: 3046 Summary: Steph Rogers is an exhausted college student just trying to blow off some steam when she meets the mysterious (and drop-dead gorgeous) Toni. One-night stands are great and all, but it's possible they didn't completely think this one through. (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark genderbent AU. dl;dr)

Choosing by indigorose50 Rating: T Word Count: 1761 Summary: The "first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed on your body" Soulmate AU. Except Steve isn't Tony's soulmate. But who cares. This one was a gift for me and obsessed.

One of Us Cannot Be Wrong by shetlandowl Rating: E Words: 4225 Summary: Steve Rogers is a hard-working book editor without equal, who has cultivated a career and lifestyle precisely as he likes it. When the US Immigration office threatens to take all of it away from him just because he happens to have been born on the wrong side of an imaginary line, his only hope is to find an American spouse within two weeks.

Observations by smol_bird Rating: G Word Count: 4578 Summary: There is a running gag in the Academy, started, as many of them are, by Clint, that in one of the certainly-existing parallel universes Natasha is a spy ———— Or: In which Tony renames his computer files, Steve draws, Clint questions, and Natasha is left the observer role, not that she minds at all.

[marvul-imagines]

friendly neighborhood hellraiser pt1

Libby stared at her reflection for a moment. It was just another day of school. Just another day at the place she considered her own personal hell. Not that was all that much different from the life of any other highschooler, if she was being honest. But what was a newly turned 18 year old to do? Her dad would have her head if she ever quit school. The guy watching over her now...her second adoptive father (that was another, much longer story) would probably kick her out of his new, sweet penthouse. Which wasn't exactly ideal either. She didn't want to be homeless. Adjusting the band on her black leggings, before fixing her red, cashmere sweater. It had been a gift from her adoptive father, Steve Rogers (that's right folks, you heard it here first) two Christmases ago. Before all this nonsense with the Sokovia Accords went down. Back when they were a family. Back when he wasn't missing. Back when she wasn't living under the watchful eye of Tony Stark.

The young blonde gave one last look at the mirror when Friday spoke. "Miss Rogers, your ride to school is waiting downstairs. How long should I tell him?" Her voice was always warm, if slightly robotic. It was what she imagined a mother's tone to be like. Not that she'd ever know.

So Libby sighed, pulling her wavy, ash blonde hair into a loose ponytail. "Tell Happy I'll be there in two minutes. Heading to the elevator now." Today was just going to be another day. Another day of being Captain America's adopted kid. It was nice being Libby Rogers for a while, it really was. After the Battle of New York, everyone really seemed to like having her around. Maybe it was only because of who her dad was, but, it was better than being ostracized. Which was what she was now. After everything that happened, her father and Tony fighting, the whole word watching, watching as her family fell apart and her dad was put on the most wanted list. It wasn't easy to say the least.

She grabbed her black backpack and slipped into her boots, before making her way out of her room and towards the elevator. "How's the forecast today, Friday?" she asked, as the metal shoot dropped her down, down, down.

"Cold, Miss Rogers. Currently 42 degrees. Rain is expected later today. Would you like an umbrella?" the voice automatically chimed back without missing a beat.

"No, that's ok," Libby replied, adjusting the straps on her bag. She liked the rain, even though it turned her long hair into a giant tangled mess. "Tell Tony I'll be back later than usual, I'm going to do some studying after school. I won't be long." She had a history project coming up and wanted to do some work away from her new, hightech home. Ever since Tony had taken her in, school had been ten times easier, what with a computer that would literally answer all her questions. But that wasn't how Libby liked doing things. She liked working stuff out on her own. She wanted her report to be 100% Libby Rogers built.

"Will do. Enjoy your day at school, Miss Rogers," Friday said as Libby exited the building and walked to the curb, where Happy Hogan was waiting, black car parked and purring, back door opened for her. The tinted windows were there as usual, only the best bullet proof Stark money could buy. Or invent.

"Good morning, Miss Rogers," Happy greeted in his thickly accented voice. You could tell this guy was raised out east just buy hearing him speak.

"Happy, I told you to call me Libby. Seriously," the blonde replied with a roll of her green eyes. "Just because Tony is your boss doesn't mean I need any special treatment."

"Yea, yea, I know Libby. I'm sorry, let's just get in and get you on your way," he replied, helping her into the car with a small grin, before slamming the door tightly. It would be a quick ride to school, even with traffic.

Libby relaxed into the car seat, pulling up her phone and browsing the news. Only thing remotely interesting was how the local hero (besides either of her fathers) Spiderman had stopped yet another bank robbery. The guy hadn't been in the news for long, but he sure was making a name for himself. It must have been nice, being able to do some good in the world. That was one thing Libby always struggled with. Being around all these amazing people, yet never being able to do anything quite so powerful, quite so good. Her father had done so much good before he had gone into hiding. She missed him so much.

She shut her phone and shoved it into her bag, staring out the window instead, jaw clenched as she rode out the wave of sadness washing over her. She didn't even noticed Happy studying her in the rear-view mirror. He hated seeing her this way, the way she always got when she was thinking about her family. He knew she put up a strong front, but that didn't make it any easier on the poor kid. Regardless of what she said, he knew better. Things could not have been as easy at school as she was always saying. He'd have to drop a note to Mr. Stark later, tell him to follow up or something. Tony would figure something out, he always did.

"Alright kiddo, here we are," Happy announced, pulling up infront of Midtown School of Science and Technology. "Just give me a ring when you're ready for a ride home, or whatever you need, alright?" He said, opening the door for her, even though she always asked him not to. It made people stare, she always protested. But he did it regardless, every day. It was chivalrous. And kind of his job.

"Alright Happy, see ya," Libby replied with a small wave as she slipped her headphones over both ears, drowning out everything else as she put Imagine Dragons on Spotify.

She walked lazily into the school, slipping between crowds and bystanders, not really paying attention. No one waved to her anyways, no one stopped to say hello. No one ever did, not since half of the Avengers had become Public Enemies. Not since the FBI pulled her out of her science lab to interrogate her on the location of Steve Rogers. No one wanted to be friends with the girl whose dad turned out to be the bad guy. Which he didn't, not really. He just didn't want a set of laws determining when he could or couldn't save someone's life. Libby understood it, she got it so well. That was part of the reason she loved her father so much, he was so effortlessly good. So right. He was Captain America for a reason, even if he wasn't really following that moniker anymore. He was still the best in her eyes, anyways. Always had been since he'd rescued her from another year of foster home living. That was why she spent half of her free time now researching him, trying to find the latest sightings of Steve Rogers, man on the run. He had to be out there somewhere. She would find him, eventually.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't see the locker door open right in front of her, knocking her flat to the floor. She practically saw stars as she rubbed her forehead, knowing there would probably be a bump there later.

"Peter, what the hell?" She heard a low voice say. "How can you have these great senses and not even notice a person right in front of you?"

"Ned shh," another male voice replied. As Libby blinked, looking up, and found herself staring into a set of caramel brown eyes, and a pale hand extending down towards her. "Hey, I'm, um, really sorry. That was completely my fault. Wasn't paying attention."

"You don't say," Libby replied dryly, but she accepted his hand, letting him pull her up from the floor. He did it with almost surprising ease. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. He had cropped brown hair, almost the same colour as his eyes, and wore a baggy shirt that almost hid how broad his shoulders were.

"You're, um, Libby, right? Libby Rogers?" He asked again, scratching the back of his head.

"Holy shit, Peter, you just knocked Captain America's daughter to the ground!" his friend elbowed the guy, presumably Peter, in the ribs. "Tony Stark is probably going to string you up from the top of his building using whatever that super strong stuff you-"

The guy covered his friend's mouth with his hand, glaring at him. "We don't talk about that here," he whispered, but Libby still heard him. After he removed his hand, he turned back to the blonde girl. "Seriously, Libby, I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow. Have lunch with us or something?"

Libby could practically feel her heart leap out of her chest. Someone wanted to have lunch with her? That hadn't happened in months. "Um sure," she replied, trying to sound as cool as possible about it, even though inside she was ridiculously excited. Embarrassingly so. Who got this excited about lunch anyways??

"Ok, cool, cool," The guy said again, adjusting the backpack that hung lazily over one of his shoulders. "I'll see you around then," he said, starting to walk off with his friend.

"Wait," she said suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. He swiveled around, piercing her with those brown eyes again. She knew them, from somewhere. Where had he seen him before? Besides school, obviously. Something about him seemed too familiar. "I never got your name," she said, cautiously.

He grinned back at her, walking backwards down the hall as he replied back, "The name's Peter. Peter Parker."

[ti-bae-rius]

A taster of my full-length KitTy fic - tell me what you think...

(Set after the end of Lady Midnight - yes, I did start this before Lord of Shadows came out. Yes the end of the book did fuck up my fic.) Click to read the first 2 paragraphs and let me know whether you think I should actually post this. I’ll keep my inbox open/ask box/etc. open so you can let me know.

Fifteen years. Fifteen years of lies, of deception, of denial. Fifteen years spent hiding in the cellar like some kind of Cinderella pastiche whilst his dad did things he wasn’t allowed to ask about upstairs in the lounge. Fifteen years of feeling shadowhunters, of believing he’d be kidnapped if he let on he could see them. Fifteen years of believing people like the boy with grey eyes was the type of person to fear. He got the feeling a lot of people might fear someone who’d held a knife to their throat. He was the only one who didn’t seem to be driving Kit to insanity right now though.

Kit didn’t fit in. He’d never fitted in at home because of his dad’s secrecy; he’d never fitted in at school because of the weight of the worry he carried with him; and he didn’t fit in here either. He should have been used to it. In his own world, the life he used to lead, he was used to it. But he wasn’t used to anything about this universe, least of all where he slotted into the puzzle of this existence.

He’d demanded to be put in one of the spare bedrooms in the Institute upon arrival - the Blackthorns had said there were “millions” of them. It would have been nice, he thought, if one of those millions had an en suite. It had been ten hours since he’d come into this room. By now he was hungry, thirsty, and he needed to go to the bathroom. He glanced up toward the clock on the wall. It was three in the morning. They’d all have gone to sleep, all the meddling Blackthorns with their perfect, Von Trapp, oh-so-supportive family. He knew they’d been kind, knew he shouldn’t hate them - Emma least of all - but he did. He’d never had a family like that. And he hated Emma the very most. When she’d lost - lost, he thought, scoffing. She hadn’t lost them. They were dead, just like his dad - she’d had a perfect little built-in back-up family. She didn’t know what being alone was like. She fallen straight from one family into another without leaving her backyard, her comfort zone of normalcy. Kit had been wrenched from his life and slung haphazardly into a world of monsters and demons, of fighting and lies. He hadn’t just been forced from his own backyard, he’d been forced to a whole other damn planet.

He opened the door and stopped short. Sat with his back against the wall next to his door was a figure armed with a blanket, pillow, a torch, and a stack of books. He was slumped forward with his chin on his chest, the blanket around his shoulders, and one of the tomes open on his lap. The torch beam fell on a spot a little down the hall, having rolled from his hand when he’d fallen asleep. Ty.

“What is wrong with you?” Kit snapped, and Ty’s head came up, startled awake. He winced a little. “Why are you here?” Ty shrugged. “Go away! Don’t sit outside my room! It’s creepy.” He bent down and took up the torch. “And I’m taking this,” he added, and stalked off down the hall to find the bathroom. 

Instantly, he hated himself. Ty hadn’t done anything wrong, and he’d looked so confused when Kit had yelled. He shut the bathroom door behind him and sighed. He felt awful for being so mean to Ty, to all of them, but their kindness was too much. All it would take was one smile, one person asking if he was okay, and he’d lose it. All his icy composure would be completely ruined by one gesture of warmth. If he let them close with their unrelenting happiness, he’d snap. Kit took physics at his old school and he’d done an experiment that had won him third place in his eighth grade science fair. Using strips cut from a water bottle, he’d demonstrated how it was possible to keep a shoelace vertical by applying isolated points of tension to keep it upright. If any of the tension lapsed, even slightly, the shoelace would fall - he knew this because a kid in his homeroom had messed with the equilibrium and sent the whole thing into a heap right before the judges’ eyes. Kit had punched him in the face the minute he got out of the cafeteria. He had in school suspension for a week for that. He felt a little like that now, like the shoelace. All that was keeping him from collapsing was stress and tension, he thought, wrapping a towel around his waist as he got out of the shower. One tiny change in that could totally unbalance him. If he didn’t stay angry, he’d cry. He knew that. He’d rather all of them hate him than even one f them pity him. He scooped his clothes back into his arms and turned the torch on as he ventured back down the dark corridor. He swept the flashlight in a wide arc, coming to rest where Ty had been. His blanket was still there, and his pillows and books. But Ty himself was gone. In his place was a tray, weighed down with food; an orange, a bag of chips, an energy bar, a sandwich of something Kit thought might be peanut butter, and what looked like a smoothie in a bottle. He glanced up and down the empty hall like a guilty man, then took the tray, shutting the door behind him with a swift kick. 

Ty waited to hear Kit’s door click shut, put his head around the corner, and padded back down to the space of corridor outside Kit’s room. When he wanted to be, he was immovably stubborn. It drove Julian to distraction when Ty didn’t feel like training, because he knew no amount of pleasing would make Ty pick up a weapon if he wasn’t in the mood. He laid down, feeling the floor under him, harder than his own bed but still bearable, and pulled the blanket close about him. The Institute got cold at night. Not as cold as the older buildings, like the London Institute, but still a little uncomfortable. Julian had put heavy, dark curtains in Ty and Dru’s rooms because they were light sleepers and the sun woke them up, but throughout the rest of the building the big glass windows either had light curtains or no covering at all, too large to effectively block the light from. Ty tucked his head down under the blanket and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he’d likely be awoken when the sunrise came through the balcony doors at the end of the corridor in a few hours. Perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe he should do what Kit said, go away and stop being creepy. Ty didn’t see how it was creepy. After all, he was only sat outside. He wasn’t in the room. There was a poem Ty had read once called the Eve of St. Agnes by John Keats - who was apparently a mundane with the Sight. In the poem, a faerie knight called Porphyro had watched the girl he loved from her closet while she slept. That was creepy, Ty decided. He was merely making sure everything was okay. After all, they barely knew Kit. How did Julian and Emma expect him to just trust this stranger not to hurt them? He could hurt Livvy, and then Ty would have to kill him. No one hurt Livvy if Ty could help it. When she fell, she often said it was a miracle that Ty didn’t take up arms against gravity itself.

But, Ty also knew that sometimes, when people were hurting, they said and did things they didn’t mean. When Mark had first arrived, he’d yelled at them all, thrown Ty to the ground. They hadn’t done anything wrong; Mark had just been scared. Ty remembered what it was like when his dad had died, how much it hurt in a way he could neither process nor describe. Julian, only twelve, had looked after them, picked glass from Ty’s hand when he’d punched the jewellery box beside Tavvy’s crib even though he’d known it would hurt. It wasn’t as painful as he felt inside. He remembered the way his head had hurt until he felt sick when Emma had asked him to explain how he felt, how the only way to explain the overwhelming sadness was to scream because all language has abandoned him. Now, at fifteen, that didn’t happen really. He could explain better, and Julian was grown-up enough and knew how Ty thought well enough to understand what he was feeling without having to ask him. Sometimes, when he was struggling to explain, Julian would sit him down and speak softly, get him to explain it another way, using computers or quotes and situations from Sherlock Holmes. They’d gotten a lot further with helping Ty to heal by thinking about how Watson felt after The Adventure of the Final Problem than they had by getting Ty to talk about it from his own perspective. But, Ty thought mournfully, curling his hand into a fist and hugging it to his chest, he still had the scar on his knuckle where the shards of glass had made bloody lacerations to remind him how Kit might feel. Kit might not punch things, but he might shout, and Ty understood the urge to shut yourself away in your room when things got too much. His dreams, when they came, were full of glass shards and blood, the memory of Julian extracting chunks of jewellery box from his hand while Livvy held him still. When the sun came, he’d leave. But not yet. Not quite. 

[spideychelle-romanogers]

Request: Michelle’s POV in Chapters 9-10

“If anyone knew what it was like to be alone when no one knew what was happening to you as your life crumbled around you, it had to be her. She believed this was what made them good partners, she understood him. She wished he’d know that. The silence lasted too long, Michelle wasn’t sure what was next. Before she could get any ideas to act on the thoughts she shouldn’t have had, their phones buzzed. “

Michelle wasn’t ready for this.

As she beat a speaker into obeying her, she thought about her stress regarding her father. He was still barely talking to her. Perhaps it had been a mistake to tell him about the jewels but she had just wanted to be honest with him, offer him a way out. The Jones family was an honest one, based on good, centered on fairness, that’s what her father would say. He repeated that to her that night. He expected her to get the jewels back but they were already sold. It was as though he would never forgive her for stealing them in the first place.

But how could she resist if there was a chance they could pay for a legitimate surgery for his back over some experimental company paying their bills for them. She told her father he was a sellout for selling himself and his safety to fulfill his need to provide.

Michelle regretted it ever since. She knew why her father was doing this, they were already struggling as it was. They were spending most of their money just on food. They were so low, she heard the church was considering gathering donations for them. The Jones didn’t want the pity, they didn’t deserve the pity. Her father was an educated, strong man who deserved so much more than being limited by his injury.

So Michelle was taking her rat-hunting frying pan to the speaker. The added bonus to beating her problems out was that Tony Stark would probably be angry to hear she was damaging his equipment. It served him right for buying her tunnel.

Turning around, she was happy to see Spider-Man was barely paying her any mind, writing in his journal like he always did. She didn’t know what would possess anyone to write while wearing a mask but she supposed the man didn’t want to reveal his identity but did want to spend time with her. The idea pleased her so much more than she was willing to admit.

“How do I call you?” she asked suddenly. Saying why would mean accepting the reality that she might need a ride home if her father died. Michelle meant to just ask for a ride home but it was hard to be frank when you were dancing around the truth.

"Using that.” He pointed at one of the computers. “Directly links you to my suit."

"No, like how do I call you? When I'm not here. If there's an emergency or something happened, how am I supposed to reach you?" Michelle was pushing too hard, she tried to pull herself back.

"Use your cell phone?" She chuckled slightly. For a superhero, Spider-Man often thought of consequences less than she did.

"That will trace me to you." Over the last week, the leaked Facebook video of Spider-Man went viral. Michelle's face was the only one that was clear in the footage. While most people believed her when she said it was the first time she’d met the hero, there were some who were still suspicious. Namely Flash, who was still very jealous of her and still very gay for Spider-Man, almost more gay than Peter was for the masked hero. Meanwhile, she had Liz coming after her asking all about the experience because of her budding crush on the hero.

She still hadn’t told Spider-Man about all of that. Perhaps it wasn’t very flattering for her image. ‘Hey, all my classmates are in love with you.’ No, that would be awkward.

"How do I call you?" she asked again.

"I will figure something out." Michelle hated having to take people’s word for things but she knew she could trust him enough to be patient. There was only a day until the surgery and she had too much on her mind. She was trying to convince her father not to worry about his will. The doctors had suggested he edit his will being that he had a minor in custody.  Michelle refused to accept a change like that. Her father was not going to die, she refused the possibility. She’d refuse it forever if she could.

Spider-Man was back in just a few hours. A Saturday, Michelle was spending the weekend like any other: doing homework. However, she was distracted when she saw Spider-Man’s journal. She had to read it. There really was no other course of action, she was too curious.

Before she could finish the whole book, he was back. "Michelle!" boomed through the tunnel so loud that she actually jumped. She stood still like she didn’t think there would be any consequence to reading his journal, knowing playing dumb was the best way to stay out of trouble.

It wasn’t like she was trying to figure out his identity. She would hope he wouldn’t write that into a book he carried around with him all day.

"What?"

"What are you doing?!"

"You left this behind. I was curious."

"That is-"

"If you say 'a total invasion of privacy', Spidey, I might have to remind you what brought me here in the first place."

"You can't just read my journal."

"It wasn't labeled!" she defended. "Anyway. It's fine. It was a good read. Here." She handed it back. Spider-Man flipped through the book as if looking to see if she wrote in it. She’d never disgrace a journal that way. "You're a great writer. You should write more often." She wasn’t kidding either. For a big reader, she’d never understood anyone’s message so completely until she read his book. Bravery had a way of drowning out the noise, just as fear did. It resonated with her in a very personal way. She didn’t know what kind of trauma Spider-Man knew but she figured it had to be significant if he could write so well about it.

"Here," he said, still looking grumpy. Michelle rolled her eyes at his expression. "Use these."

"Burner phones?" she asked curiously. "That was easy."

"What gave you the idea anyway?" She ignored him as if she hadn’t heard him.  "Michelle."

"Tomorrow's the surgery." She wouldn’t meet his eyes, knowing she would feel the pity radiate off of his body language if she did. He sat next to her, and she turned in her chair a little to face him. "I'm planning for the worst." Nothing new, she was a pessimist by nature.

"And a call to me would help?" Now that he said it like that, of course it sounded crazy.

"I don't think so but it would certainly make me feel better. I could use a friend. You know, if anything-" This felt so strange, asking for help. Normally she didn’t have someone to ask for company.

"Nothing is going to happen, Michelle." Of course he’d say that.

"I don't like stress. I'm not very good at handling it. I can't sit in a waiting room for hours waiting for bad news. I don't think I can do it."

"When he's inside, call me."

"What?" she asked, unsure she heard him correctly.

"When your father goes in for the surgery, just give me a call." She was doubtful, but she agreed. She never really refused his requests.

Spider-Man asked her to come to the roof. Michelle figured it was an emergency. After taking the elevator, every step up the fire escape felt like a small death. She cried out on every step, hesitating as she imagined her death by fall.

When she got to the top she shamelessly ran for the floor of the roof, desperate to get off the stairs. Spider-Man was already there, waiting. She was out of breath and sweating but doing her best to look casual.

“I don’t like it up here,” she announced nervously.

“I had an idea. We’re going to conquer fear today.” She scrunched her forehead, unsure of what he was saying.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You are getting over your fear of heights.” No. Definitely not.

“What? Spidey, my dad is downstairs. I can’t just leave.” And she was not looking to die anytime soon.

“They have to call you if anything happens, right?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t be useful to anyone trapped in that waiting room. We won’t go far. I’ll make sure you can get there faster than it would take you to walk up to the front desk.” He was right, but she was shaking already at the thought of moving from this floor.

“.....I don’t like heights.”

“Do you trust me, Michelle?” That wasn’t fair.

“Yes.” There was no question.

“I do this everyday, all day. We’ll start small and if you really hate it we’ll stop and walk or buy snacks or something.” Michelle bit her lip, wondering if she was even willing to take the stairs back down. She nodded, though her entire body screamed no. She was rigid from her fear. Spider-Man took her hand before jumping onto the roof right next to the building. The gap was small but it was definitely more than a foot wide. She just had to step over but she kept staring down. “If you fall, which you won’t, I can just catch you. I’ve never dropped anyone.”

“Yet.” There was always a chance things would change. Her father faded from her mind while she stared down her death.

“I won’t drop you.” Ten minutes later, Michelle still couldn’t move. Eventually she resisted a jump and settled on just stepping over to the next side, having Spider-Man attach her to a web before she stepped over. Then, he drew out a bridge of web to the next roof. It was a wide bridge, there was almost no risk of her falling off of it but still she took a few minutes to walk on.

Bravery had a way of drowning out the noise, just as fear did. She remembered that from his journal. The thought briefly flashed through her mind. An hour later, Michelle was crossing a thin bridge over a wide gap. Occasionally she’d lose her balance but Spider-Man caught her every time. He was always going to help her. Michelle didn’t need someone to save her, but if she ever needed support, he would be there.

He soothed her through a panic attack after she fell once, but they went back to the games like nothing happened soon after. Michelle refused to let the fun end. When she couldn’t continue on, he built them a corner web to sit on between two buildings. It was just low enough she wasn’t afraid but high enough they got a view between these two streets to see through the streets of Manhattan, only blocks away from the hospital.

She was very close to him now, comfortable around him. They were sitting just close enough to hear each other’s breathing but she didn’t find it weird, just new. She was fussing with his webshooters, and she used this move to excuse their closeness.

“I can’t believe Tony invented this for you.” He chuckled at her and she looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I invented the web.” She nodded her head. “Tony made some new designs for it, but it’s still my baby.”

“Is that what you like to do, then? Invent things?” she asked curiously, not moving away.

“It’s all I want to do.” She stared at him for a minute, considering something.

“Who are you, Spider-Man?”

“What happened to respecting the secret identity?” She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“I don’t want to know your name. Who are you?” she asked, curiously. “What is your life like? Is this the only life you have? What do you do?” Michelle still imagined him as a thirty year old man. If a little short.

“I’m actually not much older than you.” Michelle was blown away. She didn’t believe him, and he seemed to see it in her expression. “Really.”

��So like, 20s?” He had to be at least a little older.

“No, I’m in high school.”

“My age?” she asked, shocked.

“Basically.” She could only stare at him, unsure of why this was moving her so much or making her stomach churn.

“That’s nuts,” she said finally. He laughed and she cut him off.  “No, you’re really too young for this.”  Her tone was firm because she needed to believe this was why this news was so important to her.

“Don’t say that.”

“I can’t imagine doing what you do. Doesn’t that get to you?”

“No. I’m living my dream. Using my invention, being a hero.” The way he said it, she had to believe him. She could understand. If Michelle had the power to help people the way he did, she would. “The new suit does help, though.”

She took his arm, looking at the webshooter closely to have something else to look at. “I can’t imagine anyone my age making those. I go to a science and tech school. I don’t think any of them could make anything like this.”

“Really?”

“You would probably love it.”

“And you don’t?” She pulled a face that she tried to stop quickly. She forgot Spider-Man didn’t know much about her life outside of this world.

“I’m more of a literature and history kind of girl, and I want to be a lawyer.” Especially lately, it just felt right to stick to her dream.

“So why do you go?”

“It’s a charter school. Free and specialized education. Might as well. I’m not bad at science either, it’s just not my interest. It doesn’t make it any easier to make friends, though. How about you?” She took his journal into her hands. He brought it as a peace offering but she didn’t read it now, to give him some space. She just started sketching inside of it.

“I like school. I have maybe two really good friends. My best friend doesn't know about this. And you?”

“Well, like I said before I don't really have any-” she stopped, tapping the pencil against the notebook for a second. Peter Parker counted as a friend. At least, now he did. She called him a friend, and she didn’t mean to call him anything else. “I mean there is this one kid. He's always looking out for me. He's a good friend. Probably the only real friend I have there. I could never imagine telling him about this, so I can understand. The biggest fear is just whether it'd put them in danger.” Whatever was going on with Peter Parker, he had enough on his shoulders for Michelle to be putting him in harm’s way. Especially being that he was her only school friend.

“Exactly.”

“At least you have me,” Michelle joked quietly. They were close enough they didn’t need to talk much louder.

“That’s turning out to be enough.” Michelle looked up at him, stunned by his words. Emotion came over her and she was so close to saying something, anything, she probably would have regretted. His eyes were on the journal like his words didn’t mean much as he changed the subject. “What did you come up with this time?”

It took her a moment to recover but finally she put on a proud expression, raised her chin and turned the book to him. The man she drew this time was quite handsome to her but she kept that detail to herself. An oval face with a cleft chin, deep eyes, wide lips, defined jaw. Hazel eyes, dark brown hair, light skin. “Am I close?”

“A little closer this time but it’s still not there.” She turned the page and tried again, keeping her smile to herself about finding out he looked a little like the handsome man she drew.

“Would we have gotten along if we met? Like on the street?” she asked curiously as she stared at the drawing. She figured Spider-Man wouldn’t like her. She was a grumpy person, sarcastic and often not very nice. It worked for this dynamic they had, but maybe not a real friendship.

“Maybe. I don’t think you’d like me very much.” She laughed.

“Probably not,” she lied. She couldn’t be honest, he’d just try to comfort her or something and she wasn’t in the mood. She was just an honest person, not a sad one. She moved and shifted the web, scaring herself. “I can’t imagine living like this every day. Being able to fly like you do.”

“I don’t fly.”

“Don’t you?” They were quiet and Michelle didn’t know why. She felt self-conscious suddenly about her words. “Don't you feel like you have the weight of the world on you? I mean, you’re a hero. Doesn’t that get lonely?”

"You have no idea."

"Maybe I do," Michelle said, cautiously. If anyone knew what it was like to be alone when no one knew what was happening to you as your life crumbled around you, it had to be her. She believed this was what made them good partners, she understood him. She wished he’d know that. The silence lasted too long, Michelle wasn’t sure what was next. Before she could get any ideas to act on the thoughts she shouldn’t have had, their phones buzzed.

“211S. Bank robbery - 34th and 3rd. Silent alarm triggered by guard, backup requested.”

Though the whole point of the phones was a ride home from the hospital. When Spider-Man offered to take her to the hospital, she refused. She took the time in the silence that she needed. Her father was on her mind, always, but she distracted herself. She knew if she stayed with Spider-Man she would feel like she was pretending life wasn’t changing. He made her see things positively, though.

Suddenly, her father’s death wasn’t on her mind, his survival was. She imagined a life where her father would get better. He’d be able to walk without pain, drop her off at school like he used to. He’d be working again, having friends over from work who would ask her to join them at poker. He would be happy again, and maybe he’d even forgive her.

That’s all she wanted. She always made her father proud, she never wanted to cause him any pain and she knew she hit too hard last time they spoke. He wasn’t a sellout, and neither was she.

Michelle didn’t just go to church, she believed in God. She couldn’t really have turned out differently, not when her father was so dedicated to his church. God wouldn’t take her father from her. The man was all he had tying her to her life before everything went downhill. Fate could never be so unkind, not if she was faithful.

Stepping into the small chapel in the hospital, she was sure it wasn’t her same faith but all she needed was a place to kneel. She spoke to God like she already knew the outcome. She talked to him about her life thus far and how she forgave all of it, and anyone involved. Her father was all she needed out of this. By the end, she felt secure she’d get her way. Stepping out of the quiet dark room, she did her best to smile and wait patiently. She briefly glanced back at the room, thinking to herself a brief prayer she knew wasn’t her priority, but damn did it scare her:

Maybe, on the side, please God let her stop crushing on a masked hero she barely knew.