#These changes wanna chase me away from these sites but I have no where else to share art!

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[blueberrypossum]

A Date Down Under (GN Reader x Leo)

OH MY GOSH IT’S BEEN FOREVER SINCE I’VE POSTED!!

If you guys are wondering where I’ve been I write more on A03 with two original fanfics in the making! But, my tumblr account deserves some love too! This fanfic has been siting in my file for a long while and I originally wanted to post it when I was deep in the ROTTMNT fandom (still love it and miss it man). So, I decided to take out my oc in it and make it a reader fanfic so everyone can enjoy!  @bootyyy-shaker9000 ​ I know how much you love Leo so have some of the wonderful boy in blue!!

When Leo asked you if you wanted to celebrate your Friend Anniversary in the Lost City, you couldn’t refuse. 

 The feelings for the turtle though were getting tougher and tougher to maintain. Leo was always the flirt, and you tried to not let him play with your heartstrings, but now a blush would creep around your face whenever he would fire a one-liner or when he would push the physical contact to the extreme. 

You weren't used to so much affection, nor letting the addiction of being touched take over you like a drug. 

But you have seen the way Leo fake flirts with others, and just believed that he was just doing the same thing to you, because you were just friends, right? 

You were brushing your comb through your hair when your phone started to vibrate on your desk. You brought it up to your ear as you got comfortable in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

There were a few knocks on your bedroom window.

“Me.”

You giggled and walked over to the window and pulled back the blinds to see the one and only Leonardo Hamato, a sly grin on his face as he hung up on the phone. You placed your phone into your pocket and unlocked the window to reveal yourself to him. 

The blue bandana turtle looked a little taken aback as he took in the sight of his best friend. With the season turning colder, you wore something that suited the chilly wind yet sunny season, the cloth clinging to you gently. What caught him off guard the most was the dazzling smile you presented to him, the pure excitement of seeing him causing his bandana to feel tight around his head. 

Leo almost lost his balance as he hopped into your room, sweat growing on him as he tried to find anything else to look at other than you.

“Hey, how's your fever?” He asked, his voice drowned with no confidence, his heart still pounding as he finally glanced over. 

You were picking up your bag and you frowned at the question.

“Hum? What fever?” 

“Oh, yeah, you just look hot to me,” he replied, pressing a confident smile on his lips as he hoped that you didn’t catch him almost slipping up. 

Your cheeks went pink and you playfully slapped his arm.

“Oh hush up and let’s go, we’re burning daylight.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s burning.”

“Oh my gosh, get going, Red Kamon.”

The tall turtle chuckled and pulled out his sword, swiping it around the room until a portal was created. Leo moved to the side and bowed his head towards you. 

“After you,” he purred and you rolled your eyes at him and took a step into the portal and was led right at the center of the Hidden City. The colorful and mysterious city was weird to say the least, nothing but weird creations and magic lingered in the air as yokai walked past you. Leo stepped through the portal and was at your side as you both walked over to the city map. 

Leo used your shoulder as a rest while you gazed over at the map.

“Where do you want to go, shorty?” He asked as your eyes scanned the different areas and pointed towards the Witch Town.

Your mind seemed clouded from the close contact and you pointed to the spa.

“What about here? Sounds interesting.”

“Can’t do. My idiot and less attractive twin got us turtles banned there,” Leo commented and soon his arm snaked around your neck and was completely over your shoulders, bringing you close enough that you could feel his breath over your cheek. 

“What about here?”

“Nope. They banned me there.”

“How did you get banned from a spa?”

“My dashing good looks were just too much for them.”

You let out a gust of air and knew the real reason, Donnie told you the whole funny scenario of Leo needing hair to get into the spa, totally backfired and threw him in jail. 

“What places are you not banned from, blue?” You asked, turning over to him with your arms crossed. 

He gave you his signature smile and leaned down till you were face to face, his beak just a few inches from your nose. 

“Here, just those two places. Your heart? Never.”

“Then what about the Pirate Bazaar?” You mumbled, your heart almost leaping out of your chest as Leo’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Ohhh, I’ve been there! But only for a little bit, let’s go!” He squealed and took your hand and led you through the crowd of animals and other subjects of yokai. His three-fingered hand was cold against your warm one, and you knew Leo and his brothers like closeness to you and April since you were the only warm-blooded creatures; Splinter was too but hugs were hard to get from him. Still, the hand holding made others look over and gush at you two, as if you were a couple. 

If only.

He didn’t let go as he took you into lesser crowds, bringing you closer till your arms were touching. You then realized he wasn’t wearing an outfit, but then remembered most of the yokai’s were clothesless as well. His muscles bounced as he walked and you had to do everything to not wrap your fingers around the growing muscle. 

STOP STOP STOP THINKING LIKE THIS! HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU LIKE THAT!

His thumb started to brush against yours as he turned to you and you swore you saw a red dash against his cheeks, and it wasn’t his stripes.

“You’ve been friends with me for a whole year! Please, do tell how great it must’ve been to be called my best friend,” he said slyly, wiggling his non-existent eyebrows, causing you to laugh. The joyous melody made Leo weak in the knees.

“You mean, me always having to save your shell from dangerous bad guys, having to endure all your jokes, and then the constant-CONSTANT- marathons of Jipiter Jim and Lou Jitsu to the point all I could do was speak quotes from the movies.”

“Oh yeah, may I remind you that you would text me excited about every movie date? Didn’t someone make their signature hot chocolate just for me when I showed this specific someone their now favorite movie? Ring any bells?” He replied back.

“Pffts, you know what? Your one-liners stink.”

The sword yielding turtle let out a gasp and grasped where his heart would be over his plaston as if he had been shot as he looked down at you. 

“My one-liners stink like Raph’s victory stink!”

You laughed and took back his hand and Leo felt his heart flew as your warm hand was gripping onto his cold one. You took the lead and finally made it to the entrance of the pirate grounds. There were booths of stuff that were related to the pirate theme of the area and some were just random selections of things to sell. The smell of seafood and other fried foods drifted into your nose and you led Leo to the entrance. 

After getting Lost City Cash at a money machine, you both took a selfie at the front entrance, Leo bringing you close and him having to lean down due to your height.  

There was a goblin looking woman in the booth at the entrance and the woman took your money and gave each of you a bracelet to get on rides and such. 

“For an extra 20 dollars, you can have a custom pirate outfit that you can switch on and off with ease,” she explained and you and Leo shared the same look, giving the worker a simple nod. She pointed to where single bathrooms were after she got the money.

“Last one there is a rotten turtle egg!”You challenged out as you raced over to the bathroom stalls, the mutant turtle schoffing and charging after you.

With a little bit of magic, you were able to think up your very own pirate outfit with a second band around your wrist so that you could switch it off and on with ease. Leo picked the same outfit he had when he first came to the pirate utopia with Hueso, but didn’t pick an eyepatch this time since he didn’t want to trip in front of you. 

You quickly raced out of the changing room after saying thank you to the worker who helped you and looked around, your eyes trying to find the mutant turtle in the crowd. You spotted the long strands of his bandana and felt yourself shudder at how good he looked in a pirate outfit, how the white shirt clung to him and how he had his sword hung against his side instead of over his back. You swallowed the saliva that was swimming in your mouth and quickly dashed over to him, clearing your throat before you spoke in the worst pirate accent. 

“My, my, isn’t ye the best booty I’ve ever seen in these vast oceans!”

The red slider turtle quickly turned around but you moved out in front of him.

“Aye, wanna shiver me timbers?” You laughed, throwing another one-liner at him and he turned, his eyes going wide as he almost told you that if you were a pirate, you would be the most beautiful treasure that no man or woman could handle or capture. If you were a pirate he could definitely walk the plank. 

“Those jokes are so lame, that they need a peg leg,” he replied, almost hating himself fully for using one of Huesos jokes instead of his own. But you flashed him a smile anyway and motioned him to follow as you made your way through the crowd. 

The teenage turtle felt his heart leap after you and gave chase as you made it to the center of the pirate theme park. 

Once in the middle, you pulled out the map the woman at the booth gave you and started to read over the activities that you could do. 

Leo leaned down close, still a little out of breath, but his confidence had awoken him as he said: “Ya certainly put a shiver in my timber!” he said in a deep pirate accent. You booped his beak away from your face and he blew a raspberry on the index finger.

“So, there is a treasure adventure we can go on, a booth section of stuff to buy, a pirate show of a reenactment of pirate history-Oh! They have timed dances throughout the area! And you can join in!” 

“Are you going to join in?”

“Maybe. I could finally dance with someone who doesn’t only do fortnite dances and dabs.”

“Hey, my moves are almost like a work of a pirate ship.”

“Old and needs remodeling?”

“What?! No! Unique and cool.”

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around Leo’s and led him to the show since it was the closest. 

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

You stood on the pier as ships and flying creatures dashed by, the glowing lights of the underworld turning into a creamy orange to signify that the day was coming to an end. You leaned your arms over the railing as you scrolled through the photos that had been taken throughout the day. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing your goofy pictures and would scroll past the ones you took specifically of Leo without him knowing. 

Speaking of the turtle, he leaned in close to your shoulder as he noticed that your attention was not on him.

“Whatcha lookin at?” He asked, his head slowly getting closer. You felt your body grow warm and quickly turned your phone. 

“Bruh,” you giggled and he gave a quiet chuckle and tried to snatch the phone. 

“If you’re looking at something, then as your best friend I have a right to see.”

“Fine, hang on.”

You quickly saved the single photos of him into a secret file and moved the phone between them, his head still on your shoulder as he scrolled through the photos, both of you laughing at the one where you fought the pirates and failed. 

“What about you? I know you took photos of today for your social,” you commented as you placed your phone into your bag. 

Leo took out his phone and hid it out of sight since his home screen was a picture of them together at an abandoned skatepark and he had you in a piggyback ride and he just had to capture the moment. He handed his phone without thinking and started to go through your bag due to boredom.

You scrolled through the photos until you stopped at a specific one. You didn’t remember him telling you to pose for this photo; it was when you had stopped to eat dinner and you happened to watch one of the kids getting a fake pirate hook from a vendor. Your head was supported by your hand as a breeze caused your hair to ripple around your face in an alluring photo. A blush rushes to your face as if you had been hit and soon you started to scroll faster and found more photos of just you; of you waiting in line, in your pirate outfit, several were taken of you during the pirate treasure hunting, when you grabbed a candle from one of the booths in excitement, he even got a cliche photo of you holding his hand while you led him through the crowd. 

You felt your heart stop in your ribcage and looked over at the ninja turtle, who was still looking through your bag as if he was hunting for treasure. You didn’t want to snoop, but you couldn’t help but exit out of his camera roll and looked through his folders on the right side; there was a folder for comic books, shopping, epic moments, even a puns list, then found it at the bottom. It was labeled with a first letter of your name and a heart, and with twitching fingers, you opened it. It wasn’t many photos but enough to where you almost dropped his phone into the water below. There were pictures of you whenever you both hung out, and some he probably got from your social. 

Holy Hot Soup, he liked you.  

“Okay, now you really look like you have a fever,” Leo commented as he reached for his phone, causing you to swallow and quickly turned off the device and handed it back to him.

“But don’t worry, Doctor Neon Leon will help you get all better,” he said in a baby voice and wrapped his arm around you and brought you close. 

“Maybe you need some Vitamin ME,” he whispered and you laughed at yet another ridiculous one-liner made by him. He grinned at the sight of you laughing and rested himself against your side, taking in your scent and warmth. 

“Maybe I do, where do I get my prescription Aka Kamon?” You asked slyly, a shit eating grin on your face as Leo blushed. Whenever you could, you would fire back a one-liner and was overjoyed to see him be the one to get flustered and a stuttering mess. 

“ Oh, um, well,” he stuttered and mentally kicked himself as he couldn’t think of something to say back and then a question he always wanted an answer to.

“Are you ever going to tell me what those words mean?” He asked. 

“Are you ever going to open a book and find out for yourself.”

“Ha! Jokes on you, I don’t know how to read. And also, there are phones now, boomers.”

“Then look it up.”

“JuSt GiVe Me A hInT.”

You released a sigh and gave him a look while he returned to you his huge puppy dog eyes look and placed his hands together as his bottom lip wobbled as if he was trying to get out of trouble. 

“Finnnne, but only because it’s our best friend’s day.”

You poked the red stripe against his face and then pointed upward, a smirk growing on your face as he gave a confused one.

“WHAT KIND OF HINT IS THAT??”

“A pretty good one in my opinion.”

The red slider turtle let out a large groan as he crossed his arms, his face growing tight as he tried to think of what the hint meant. 

“Are you just calling me stripes but in Japanese?” He said with a groan. 

“Leo you insult me, it would be kind of stupid to call you stripes in both English and Japanese.”

He mimicked your talking right as you finished and he received an eye roll as he continued on thinking.

 So, it wasn’t the stripes, maybe the color? Or the shape?

“Man, this is hurting my brain, this best friend day sucks.” He said as he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Okay, okay. The two words are a color and a shape. Is that better?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

You continued to watch as Leo tried to put the pieces together and you wished you could get this on video, but it would be too obvious, so instead you painted it into your mind. 

“So, the color is totally red, but the shape I’m lost at. Why did you point at the sky? Is that a clue? Why did you make this so difficult?”

“Because I’m a difficult person.”

“I do like a challenge.”

“One more hint, it’s the shape of something in the sky.”

Leo looked up at the fake Lost City sky and squinted as the fake sun started to set and the moon would start to rise. 

“Red Moon?”

“Close. It’s Red Crest.”

The blue bandana turtle searched the horizon for an answer for why you called him that as you looked away due to embarrassment. 

“Why?” He simply asked as he looked over; he could always tell when you were nervous, your eyes would always dart around and your left foot would start to shake. You rose to a tallen stance though and looked over at his hands.

“I just find your marks...alluring. In Japanese culture, the red moon is respected due to its power. I just thought you deserved to have a nickname that represented you.”

Leo felt his face go completely red that it could put Raph’s mask to so much shame that it would go bland. All this time he thought you were just calling him something insulting in Japanese, but it was a nickname that you made up for him. Not like Raph’s, Donnie’s, Mikey’s or April’s, it was one you made up for him and only him. 

“Stop looking at me before I throw you off this dock so I can live the rest of my life without this embarrassment,” you laughed nervously as your fingers combed through your hair and let out a shaky breath. 

Leo started to get his little shakes as he let out a confused laugh. 

“All this time I thought you were calling me a stupid turtle or somethin in Japanese, whoa oh boy was I wrong.”

You both looked away from each other and the atmosphere became heavy. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, I still don’t know, you thought, but then you felt his finger poke your elbow and looked over at him, and the soft expression on his face almost made you melt.

“But how can I stop looking at you?”

Your breathing immediately hitched.

“Are you blushing? It’s a good feeling to know that I do it.”

You could only cover your face as you leaned against the railing on your elbows and looked between your fingers at him. You hated being so flustered up, but with Leo dripping with confidence, it made you want to curl into a muttering mess. 

Leo watched you with amusement and went to touch you, but then fell back. He remembered how he started the physical touch between you two, holding your hand, always leaning on you, every movie night you would be his cushion. But you two couldn’t kiss, couldn’t cudde too close, he couldn’t tell you he loved you more than just a best friend.  

 He hated how the day went by so fast and now he wanted to do what he has wanted to do for months. But he couldn’t work up the courage, he had a ton of one-liners to ask you out, to ask if you returned the feelings, even though he was mutant turtle that lived in the sewer and fought enemies that could destroy the whole world and wholly Ōdachi he can’t ask you to be a part of that life. 

But, the way you would smile at him and how you always gave him credit for the growth into someone you wanted to be. How you saw something in him that he didn’t even see, and he wanted to keep being whatever you saw. 

He just wanted you.

So, he worked up the courage, tried to make the sweat stop rolling down his body, and looked at person he had fallen for

“Y/N.” 

You tensed up, you had never heard Leo sound so serious in his life. 

“Yeah?” 

“With this being.....I mean if I’m wrong. Would you consider this a date-date?” He spilled out, and he wanted to climb into his shell like Mikey and never come out. He let out a gust of air and didn’t look over at you, his fingers messing within each other. It was silent between you, the city life buzzing around them as yokai’s came and went. You wanted to scream out in joy and say yes a hundred times, but you also had to be careful, along with if Leo was being a bubbly mess, you wanted to take advantage of it as long as you could. 

Spotting a red and blue flower with a bright yellow center growing on the side of the deck, you wrapped your fingers around it and pulled it from its roots. To Leo’s surprise, you pushed your way under his arm until it was back over your shoulders. The blush on his face was noticeable and with being against his chest you noticed his uneven breaths. 

“I do. And I would like more of them, if you want to.” You answered and handed him the flower. He shakenly took the flower in his hand and his confidence came crashing back to him, knowing that the feeling was mutual. As quickly as you gave him the flower he leaned over and placed the flower over your ear. Your eyes widened with surprise and quickly averted them away, a nervous but sweet chuckle escaping your lips. But the Red-eared slider never averted his gaze away from you. 

“I would like that too,” he answered back. 

You both stood there for a while, your head curled into Leo’s chest as his own head rested on yours. You were used to being close, but this was different, this filled you up with knowing and it made the physical connection much more warmer and scarier. Little lights started to flicker around as the city started to get dark, even with no sun or moon. Leo brought you closer and buried his face into your hair, a long sigh escaping his lips in content, his mind slowing down for once and just taking in this moment.

 But the moment went quicker than expected as a low yawn escaped your mouth and the red slider turtle remembered that it was getting late. 

“Alright, sleepy head, I think it’s time to raise anchor and set sail for home,” he joked as he lifted himself off of you and then held out his hand. With a roll of your eyes, you gladly took it and let him lead you back to the entrance of the Pirate Bazaar. He could just use his sword, but he wanted to juice out every moment with you.

The hand hold was different in some way, you gripped his hand tighter and when he came to a stop you would use your other hand to lightly touch his biccup before continuing on. 

You gave the booth teller their costume bracelets back and walked a few feet ahead before Leo pulled out his sword and created a portal. 

He once again bowed his head as he moved to the side. 

“After you.”

Through tired eyes she gave him a smirk as she was halfway through the portal. 

“Thank you.” 

He followed you through the portal and took the step onto your apartment’s fire escape, the flashing lights of New York City spilling over your side as you opened your bedroom window;  throwing your bag inside before turning to Leo. You both turned to each other and then quickly averted eye-contact with each other. 

“I had a lot of fun today, Leo. Thanks for being a good fri-” you stopped yourself since you didn’t know if you two were still just friends, or more.

He let out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, chief, it was,” Leo said  and then let out a groan at the terrible execution.

 You knew that you had to make the first move now or else you both would accidentally place yourselves into the “friend zone”.

 “Leo, can you bend down a little bit?”

“Why? Tired of being the only short one?”

“You can say that.”

He bent down till he was on your level, a smug smile on his lips. You let out your form of a chuckle as you curved your fingers under his chin. The teenage turtle instantly felt weak in the knees and thought that his legs would give out from under him and became a stuttering mess as you both made eye-contact. 

“Um, haha, is it hot or did you know that, uhh,” he mumbled as you tilted his head to the side and placed a small kiss against his red stripe, instantly making his whole body, for once in his life, burning. 

Your lips were soft against his skin and he stood there as you leaned away and climbed back into your room. 

“Goodnight, Leo,”you mumbled, your hands shaking against the window. 

“N-night.”

You closed the window and walked away while Leo stood there, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour. He got a kiss from you, from you. He never felt so much adrenaline rush through his body and all he wanted to do was go back in time so he could’ve moved his lips over. 

He took a step towards the window and then took that step back. What should he do? What could he do? Were you both dating now? Or were you two at the very edge of the line of a relationship?

He wanted to call his brothers or April for advice, especially since she would slap some sense into him. His shakes were coming back.

He let out a grunt and rubbed his eyes as he tried to decide what to do. He looked back at the window and saw that you had turned on your lights. He walked up to the window and knocked.

You had just gotten out of the bathroom when you heard the light tap against your window and your heart started to race faster than it already was. You were already shaken up by having enough courage to kiss him but if that was him then what if he didn’t want the kiss?

The knock came again and you took a few deep breaths before you moved the curtain aside and there he was, his face all flustered up as he gave a small wave as she opened the window. 

“Yes?” You questioned as you leaned your hands over the window seal. You hoped that the silky night of the sky hid your flustered face.

“I honestly didn’t think this far ahead,” he spilled out as he let out a nervous laugh as he leaned against the window. 

You looked up at him and Leo blinked several times in wonderment at the startled expression that crossed your face. Leo took a deep breath and gave you his signature shit-eating grin.

“Knock knock.”

“Wow, you’re doing jokes in the same place now are ya?”

“Just do the joke.”

You giggled and fluttered your eyes mockingly at him.

“Can I who?”

“Who’s there?

“Can I?”

“Can I...Can I kiss you?”

Even though it was a terrible joke, you felt like you could throw up all of your guts for how fast your heart rate was. Kissing him on the cheek was a challenge but at least you didn’t have to worry about his lips against yours. Do turtles have lips? Or beaks?

The word yes slipped out before you had a second thought. 

Before you knew it, Leo’s hands were slipping into your own, the tip of your fingers shaking but Leo reinsured you with a stroke of his thumb  You looked up at him and was taken aback at how handsome he was, how his stripes glowed in the moonlight and his blue bandana flew behind him as he leaned down. 

Oh you were glad he didn’t have his lips puckered or drool hanging out of his mouth like in the cartoons. 

Swallowing any other signs of panic that were trying to build in your body as you leaned in. 

The city of New York continued on around you both as the kiss ended; it was soft and sweet, not a full one, but it left both of you speechless. You felt as if your stomach was falling apart and Leo thought he could slip off the stairway. He was still holding your hands before you both departed, but with your free hands, you grabbed his face and brought him in once again. The red slider turtle’s eyes went wide as moons as this kiss much more, more than he could ever dream of. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and slightly lifted you up, burying his face into yours under the moonlight. He tangled himself around you as your hands wrapped around his neck and Leo felt his stomach flip at the actions. Your shirt was warm against his chest and he tried to focus in on that instead of the worry of messing this up. He leaned more down as his hand slipped into the back of your neck. Due to the lack of experience, the kiss was sloppy and messy and anxiety swam between the connection between the two of you. 

But it was a tender memory of a kiss between the two of you, to remember as your first. 

You both finally separated, your chest heaving as you tried to get your feelings under control. His arms were still wrapped around you and your hands had slipped down onto his plaston, the hard material rising and falling under your fingers. Leo felt himself lean back, the shock setting in that he just had his first kiss and it was that deep and romantic and that….

The teen turtle felt his shell bump against the railing and you quickly latched onto him to stop him from falling, a horse laugh coming out of your mouth. 

“Guess you can say that you’re falling for me?” You asked, Leo knew now that he had to have a fever for how hot his face felt. He let out a few breathless laughs as he tried to calm himself down, longing and fear still lingering in his heart. 

All he could do was pull you into a hug and whisper out, “I just want to stay here and kiss and hold you and Y/N I can't feel my heart.”

He buried himself into your neck as he once again slightly picked you up, hoping that your warm body would calm him down, but the organ in his chest raced on as you hugged him back, your arms barely going around his shell. 

“Leo, will you be my boyfriend?”

My boyfriend. My boyfriend. My boyfriend. My boyfriend.

The words rang in his head like chimes as he slightly pulled away to look at her, the harsh blush on her face giving him an ego boost as he grinned at her. 

“Being called a boyfriend, eh? Neon Leon already has so many cool names, but boyfriend is probably the best name to be called, especially if it’s only you saying it.”

“Probably? I guess I should just give the boyfriend title to someone else, then.”

“What?! No, no, no. I already called it, I’m your boyfriend capiche? Now come here.” He pulled you into a tight hug and gave you a little spin, a laugh escaping your throat as you held on.

“Leo! We can fall, and my back cannot handle cement like yours!” 

[pumpkinov]

Where the Dust Settles

You can read Chap. 1 here and Chap. 2 here

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General.

Chapter 3. Do you wanna come over, and kill some time?

Portia meets with an adoring audience, Hancock gets high. They walk home together.

Portia’s headache was back, and this one was a ripper.

She briefly considered decapitation, and settled for a stimpak. Two and a half years in the wasteland, and this was still the grossest part.

Well, maybe not the grossest, but she still hated it. She poked the needle through the delicate skin of her elbow and decompressed the vial, feeling the weird cold sensation of something entering her bloodstream. She’d left Preston, Nick and Piper at the Dugout Inn and headed straight home. Not that she spent much time here anymore, but Home Plate was hers and she could relax here, at least a little.

She sat in her arm chair, waiting for the Stimpak to work. It didn’t take long, the headache was already less crushing than it had been before. There was a stack of paperwork upstairs on the desk that she needed to look over before the final meeting tomorrow. And oh Jesus Christ what was she going to do about fucking Hancock.

He was right, of course he was right. She just hated being put on the spot like that.

And there was no way she could skip on the socialization of the night - the General of the Minutemen summons you to walk the dangerous roads between your settlement and Diamond City, and doesn’t even bother to speak to you?

She sunk a little lower into her battered chair, allowing herself a moment to scrunch her face up. She could have a cry later, maybe, as a treat. But right now, there was work to be done. Portia put her shoes on, grabbed her coat and her scarf, flicked off the lights and stepped into the market of Diamond City. It was snowing again, lightly for now. It lay across the ground, shimmering under the string lights running off the roofs in the square. She breathed in the noodle smell wafting in the air, and for a moment she felt a little lighter.

She was greeted at the door of the Dugout Inn by Nick, who was smoking out the front.

“Hey there kid,” his yellow eyes burned bright against the darkness creeping in from the corners of the old park. “How’d it go today?”

Portia sighed, and dug around in her pockets for a cigarette, “It went pretty good.”

“Is that so?” the old synth looked over at her, she could hear the faintest of whirr’s as his eyes focused on her. “Heard John had something to say at the end. He dropped past my office earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah, he did.” Portia lit her cigarette and inhaled, staring up at the sky. The snow was starting to land in her hair. “He’s right.”

Nick nodded slowly. “He is. But folks around here, they like their town the way it is. It seems pretty unlikely anything will change.”

She chewed on her lip a little, rolling her cigarette between her fingers. “Yeah, I tend to agree with you.”

“Most smart folks do.” Nick agreed.

“You knew him when he was a kid, right?” Portia asked suddenly, “What’s the Mayor’s deal?”

“John?” the detective seemed to deliberate for a moment.

“Yeah, is he all bark and no bite?”

More whirring, as mechanisms hidden under the plastic pulled Nick’s mouth into a smile. “Oh no, he bites. But under all that bark and all that bite, he’s a bleeding heart.”

Portia rolled her eyes, and Nick laughed.

Inside was even busier than the Third Rail had been last night. It was hazy inside, steam rising off everyone’s clothes dampened by the falling snow. The coat rack near the door was overburdened, but Portia had no choice but to dump her coat and scarf on top of the pile, it was a million degrees with all these bodies and the fire going. People reached out to her as she passed, she fixed a smile on her face as she desperately looked for a familiar face. But no Preston, no Piper. She almost reached the bar before being cornered by a woman, a trader from The Murkwater Construction Site to the south. There was a Minuteman checkpoint nearby, and they had helped defend the settlement from a supermutant raid a few weeks earlier. She grabbed Portia’s arm, desperate to tell her how her men had defended the farms, how they had saved this woman’s home.

“That’s the Commonwealth Minuteman ideal, to be ready at a minute’s notice,” Portia gritted her teeth, subtly trying to pull her arm out of the woman’s grip but it was a vice. Then came the wash of shame and guilt - this woman just wanted to tell her how much she appreciated the work Portia and her group had accomplished. And all she, Portia, the fucking General wanted to do was get away. It took her fifteen minutes before she was finally released - after which another family wanted to pass on their thanks for the Minutemen’s work protecting Oberland Station. A man touched her shoulder; he wanted to tell her that his son had died defending the Minuteman checkpoint near the entrance to the Glowing Sea, and how proud he was that his son had died doing something so honorable.

By the time Portia’s hands collided with Vadim’s bar, she was emotionally wrent. Vadim placed a glass of whiskey down on the bar for her, stopped and considered for a moment, then left the bottle. Portia stared at it for a moment - tempting, really. But she made the responsible decision, and knocked back the glass instead. She turned to face the room, leaning her back against the bar. There was a flash of red in the corner, and her eyes chased it without really thinking. There was something so distinctive about the mayor. He wasn’t particularly tall, or muscular, but his presence filled a room. He moved with his shoulders - they were broad for his frame, emphasized by the ridiculous frock coat he wore everywhere. He swiveled around, almost if her gaze had summoned him. He looked over, and winked. A wicked smile spread across his face, and he turned back to say his goodbyes to his captive audience, two women with drinks in their hands and fire in their eyes; before making his way towards Portia.

She watched him approach, feeling the heat creep through her stomach as he made his way through the crowded bar. Interesting response, best ignored. There was no time for nonsense like this. She wrapped her hands around the whiskey bottle Vadim had left on the bar and moved away, spotting Piper near the door. Was she avoiding him? Maybe.

Another few hours of greeting people, of being seen, and Portia was finally free. Preston had appeared, and eventually shooed her out the door, bundled in her coat and scarf, hands still wrapped around her untouched whiskey bottle.

“You look like you need a sleep, it’s fine, I can handle this!”

“I need a fucking coma.” Portia replied to him after he’d closed the door to the inn. She leant her forehead against the wooden door for a moment, before turning around and almost screaming.

“Mayor, do I need to make you wear a bell?”

He grinned, “Are you trying to collar me now?”

He was sitting on the stone wall, a cigarette between his lips and a jet canister in his hands. The snow had stopped, but the air was bitingly cold. Portia briefly considered her options, before heaving herself up to sit next to him. She nestled the whiskey bottle between her thighs as he handed her the jet. She turned it over in her hands, glancing around. There was no one else around, and she raised it to her lips and took a quick breath in.

There was the sound of rushing blood in her ears, and everything fell away for a moment. All she could feel was the freezing cold of the stone under her ass, which was steadily going numb.

It only lasted a moment, bit by bit the rest of the world returned. She opened her eyes to the sound of Hancock laughing, almost a growl in his throat. “What?” She asked blearily, pushing the little plastic container back into his hands.

“I’ve never seen someone look like they needed a jet hit as badly as you did when you walked out.” He chuckled, inhaling his cigarette deeply.

Portia hummed a little, the afterglow of the jet slowly working it’s way out of her system. “I fucking miss weed, man.”

“Weed?”

“Cannabis, it was a plant, you dried and smoked it.”

“Oh right, yeah I’ve heard of that.”

Portia sighed. “I smoked a lot of weed back in the day. I can’t believe that fucking scorpions survived the end of the world, but no more pot.”

Hancock slid the jet canister back into his coat, blowing a stream of cigarette smoke into the night sky. “If you’re looking for other things, I have enough daytripper to help you avoid reality until next week.”

Portia chuckled, and shook her head, “Mayor, not all of us can function on jet fumes and mentat dust.”

He grinned at her, “Heh, yeah it’s a skill I’ve spent years honing. I didn’t pick our General as a habitual drug user.”

Portia smiled a little thinly, “You all seem to forget before I went into the deep freeze I had a whole life, you know?” Hancock slid his hand back into his coat, this time producing a cigarette, which Portia took. “Is your coat the nuclear wasteland version of Mary Poppin’s bag?”

“None of that made any sense.”

“It’s an old story, she flew around on an umbrella and put kids up the chimney. It’s, uh, unimportant.” She saw his expression and laughed a little. “I’ve seen you pull a fucking shotgun out of the coat, how do you keep so much stuff in it?”

His eyes flashed again, “You’ll have to get me out of it, General.” He leant over and lit her cigarette, before returning the lighter to the bottomless coat, and sliding off the wall. He held his hand out, steadying Portia as she dropped down to the ground with him. They moved down the street, their breath and cigarette smoke rising in front of them.

“I hadn’t planned on my punch at the entirety of Diamond City,” Hancock said casually. “I was just thinkin’ and I just … said it.”

“Makes sense.” Portia was focused on her boots shuffling through the snow, “I should have realised dragging you back here was gunna stir some feelings up.”

He laughed, low and deep. “Sure stirred something up.”

Portia felt her stomach spike again, and frowned at herself. She lifted her chin and aimed for a professional tone, trying to shake the intimacy out of the moment. “What are you hoping to achieve, Mayor?” She noticed they were walking close enough for their arms to brush against each other; she took a slight step away from him. If Hancock noticed her abrupt shift in energy, he didn’t react.

“Honestly, General? I don’t know. I don’t expect them to go back on what they voted for all those years ago. But I also can’t resist reminding them of who they’re fucking with.” He stared straight ahead, and Portia found herself staring at his face in profile.

High cheekbones, the faint outline of lips still left in the scars of exposed muscle on his face, his dark eyes shone in an otherworldly way. There was a twitch in his set jaw.

When he had greeted her in Goodneighbour two years ago, she’d found his face confronting, upsetting; a constant reminder that she was in a completely different world. Now his face was almost comforting.

They’d reached the front door of Home Plate now, Portia turning the whiskey bottle over in her hands. Hancock glanced at her, the wheels in his head turning.

“Is this … is this your house?”

“Yeah.” Portia was distracted, digging her keys out of her coat pocket and unlocking her front door. Then the penny dropped, as she pushed her front door open and she felt the warmth behind her shift forward slightly. She spun around barring the door with her arm. “No, no absolutely not!”

He was grinning across at her now, leaning an elbow against her door frame. “One drink?”

“In my house? No way.”

He pulled an expression of mock hurt, “Don’t you trust me?”

His body was inches from her, the warmth radiating through the layers of her clothes. “In general? Sure - in my home? Nope. You’ll never leave.” Shit

“Is that a threat or a promise, General?” He grinned slowly, before shifting his weight off the wall and standing up straight again. “Fine, one drink, in the freezing night air?”

Portia stared at him for a moment, he stared back. He was always fucking smiling. Sometimes she couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her, or mocking her. He was still close to her, she could smell him. Smoke, and something heavier. Patchouli, maybe? Or something close to it. She rolled her eyes, and let her arm drop.

“I am going to regret this, aren’t I?”

He followed her through her doorway, reaching his arm out to close her front door behind them. “General, I am nothing but a gentleman.”

She stared over her shoulder at him, “If I catch you in my underwear drawer, I’ll break your arm.”

His laugh drifted out the door, before it snapped closed.

[eldritchqueerture]

Chapter 7: Threads

Hello! Long time no see! The delay was unplanned and I'm sorry about that. I had an idea in the meantime to add more fluff chapters before shit starts to go down but then I couldn't get to writing them while telling myself that I will write them eventually, and then I had other ideas, and I was writing for Summer in the Archives, and so we are where we are. I decided to just keep posting what I have and if I do feel like adding fluff that would be happening in the meantime then I will just make a separate work in the series. I'm aiming to go back to my weekly schedule (haha), so I hope I can get the next chapter out next Friday. As always, please leave me a comment or come yell at me here on tumblr, it always brightens my day and keeps my motivation up! Enjoy <3

Martin looks at Jon’s sleeping face and thoughts swirl inside his head like tendrils of the mist that has been following him, tendrils that meet in one specific place – his feelings for him. He’s not proud of the fact that this is where his thoughts end up turning every time he thinks about Jon, considering the severity of the situation Sasha explained to him, but he cannot help wondering – despite his better judgement – if Jon doesn’t share them. He replays the worry in his brown eyes, the tight hugs, always ensuring he’s there, safe, and whole… He might be adding meaning to otherwise ordinary actions, of course, but he can allow himself to hope, for when that hope sparks inside him, the fog withdraws.

Jon is wrapped in a blanket on the cot in the storage room, where Martin has laid him. They found him sleeping on the desk in his office, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffed up; they didn’t comment on it. Martin carried him to the storage room and placed his glasses nearby. Tim went to take Sasha home, so she can get some rest, too, and was supposed to come back with lunch; the events of the morning are laying heavy on all of them and have left them quite hungry.

Martin closes the door to the storage room and comes back to his desk. Working seems a bit pointless when you know that your boss is scheming an apocalypse somewhere behind your back and you can’t quit the job, but he finds himself needing a distraction, so he opens up his computer to do some follow up research on Jason North and the alleged ritual site he found in the middle of a Scottish forest. Martin’s never been good with research, not like Sasha, so he soon stumbles upon a dead end. He ends up researching pictures for Scottish forests and cottages, and he daydreams, with his poem notebook by his side. How nice would it be to just move to Scotland, to a cottage like that and forget everything. Grow your own vegetables and herbs, welcome the sun every morning with a cup of tea; go down to the town for some groceries, meet some good cows; and maybe Jon is there with him, and he finally gets through to his head that he shouldn’t make tea in the microwave, and they cuddle on the couch while reading—

“’scuse us,” comes a deep voice and Martin looks up, startled, to find two delivery men standing there, in the Archives, with a big package next to them.

“Looking for the Archivist,” the other man says, but Martin figures that just because the voice is coming from a slightly different direction. They sound exactly the same; he finds they look similar, too. Their clothes are identical; they’re different makes and all but somehow, he can’t tell these two men apart. There’s… something off to them.

“Sorry, are you two meant—” Martin blinks, but one of them interrupts him.

“Won’t take up your time.”

“Just got a delivery.”

Martin opens his mouth, trying to process the fact that they seem to be two parts of the same whole. He wouldn’t be able to explain this thought if asked, but this is what runs through his head.

“Look, you really can’t actually—”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

He looks and yes, there, on the package, says ‘Jonathan Sims’ in a very ordinary, unassuming writing. He glances over at the door to the storage room and back at the two men.

“Well, he’s not—”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

Martin struggles for words.

“Okay, I will, but you really have to actually—”

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll… try?” He responds with the first thing that goes into his head.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“Might wanna change that.”

Martin looks at his desk and he notices a tape whirring steadily in the recorder.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

They both turn as one and leave Martin, the recorder, and the package alone. He hums, looking from one to the other and back.

“Well, I know for a fact that I did not turn you on,” Martin speaks to the recorder. “Maybe Tim felt in a mood for a prank. It is April Fool’s after all,” he huffs out a laugh. “Would be his style to do something, even with… all this happening.”

He stops the recording and turns to the package; before he can do anything else, though, the recorder clicks itself back on. Martin gives it a sideways look and his heart picks up the pace. He frowns and clicks stop again. One second. Two. There; it clicks the red button on its own.

Martin stands up and takes a step back.

“What the hell,” he breathes out.

Suddenly he hears a familiar laugh from the top of the stairs and energetic steps running down. Tim emerges from the doorway and gives him a surprised look.

“You okay, Marto?” He asks and places a paper bag on his desk, then points his chin at the package. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” Martin collects himself in a second. “Two delivery men just came by. It’s for Jon, apparently.”

Tim places a second paper bag and his coffee cup on his desk and walks around the package.

“No sender. Interesting.” He strokes his chin and looks at Martin with a grin. “We should open it.”

“Tim!”

“Look, boss is asleep, the package came to the Archives and not to his house, how private can it be?” Tim throws his arms up but seems to be watching Martin’s reaction more carefully. He doesn’t look very bothered, Tim assesses; he seems to be equally interested in the contents. He sighs and tosses him a letter opener.

“Fine, but you’re taking the blame,” Martin rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, and Tim’s grin gets wider.

“That’s the spirit!” He cuts the tape at the corners and opens the packaging to reveal an old wooden table; there’s a hole in the centre, Tim reckons about six inches square, and its surface is covered in intricate patterns resembling optical illusions. He frowns at it. “Huh. A table. Why would Jon…” He trails off as his eyes follow the hypnotizing patterns. “Interesting…”

Martin watches as Tim drops the letter knife to the floor, enraptured by the table. He wants to say something, to call out his name, but the fog from the edges of his vision spills out at the sight of the table and it blocks out the world; Martin stops feeling the chair underneath him and finds himself stranded in a sea of grey, thick fog.

“Tim? Tim!” He calls out but there’s no answer. There would be no answer, ever; he’s all alone here.

—

Jon wakes up to a nagging feeling that something is wrong. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids and gathers his bearings. He realizes he’s on the cot in the storage room, a blanket thrown to the floor next to him. He still feels too hot, and he takes off his sweater vest. What’s this feeling, gently pricking at the back of his mind?

He gets up, wobbly as he feels, and makes his way to the door. As he opens it, a voice makes its way to his ears.

“…friend mentioned poetry?” Jon squints his eyes, as light reaches him, yet he immediately recognizes the voice.

“…Gerry?” He asks and blinks – yes, he can make out the thin and long figure dressed in black, sitting on top of Tim’s desk. Tim is there too, leaning against Martin’s desk in front of Gerry, and Martin sits in the chair, his cheeks coloured just a little with faint pink. They all turn to him with surprise when he emerges. He can feel tension in the room, and he acknowledges the presence of something that looks like a table covered with a blanket in the middle of the room; the nagging in his mind grows into anxiety. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin jumps up to him with genuine worry and Jon smiles slightly, as he shakes his head.

“No.” He blinks again, to chase away the sleep and looks at Gerry and his inscrutable expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry gets down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

Jon frowns with worry.

“Gerry, I’m serious.”

Something in Gerry’s demeanour changes as he sighs, and his expression clears.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m in,” he says. “Whatever your crazy plan is, if you even have one, I want to hear it or help you make it; you weren’t picking up your phone, so I decided to come, pay you a visit.” He glances towards the table and his eyes cloud with a shadow. “And it turns out it’s good that I did.”

“What is this?” Jon walks over to the table and three pairs of hands shoot out to stop him. Gerry’s touch lingers comfortably, because apparently that’s what he does, and Jon isn’t so sure he minds it.

“An old table, with weird, hypnotizing patterns,” Tim says, and Jon detects a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“Did it have a hole in the middle?” He asks urgently and Tim nods.

“We need to get rid of it,” Jon looks in the direction of the stairs. “Put it in the Artifact Storage and make sure it’s covered.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Martin asks and Jon nods.

“Amy Patel case; the one where a person got replaced. Why would they—” Jon’s face falls and he turns to Martin and Tim. “Who delivered it?”

“It was two delivery men, really big, quite intimidating, but—uh, now that I think about it I can’t remember what they looked like…”

“Shit,” Jon sighs and rubs his face. “Okay, we really do need a plan.” He looks over their faces and his eyes stop at Martin’s disgruntled expression. “What is it?”

“What you need is rest,” he crosses his arms. “You pulled an all-nighter with Sasha, and you haven’t even slept for two hours now.”

“You do look like shit,” Gerry offers his insight and Jon fixes him with a glare.

“I can’t protect you when I’m asleep,” he says and looks pointedly at the table. “Clearly. Tell me wha—” He stops when Gerry squeezes his arm sharply. He takes note of the static in the air and clears his throat. “I want to know what happened.”

Tim sighs.

“Alright, it is kinda my fault,” he admits looking away. “I insisted on opening your package to see what’s inside. But in my defence, I thought it would be something funny; at least a bit humiliating for you, and we could laugh it off. The mood’s been horrible lately,” he grimaces. “The lines kind of… hypnotized me. I couldn’t look away and I started getting lost in them. It… It felt like being trapped in a web; the more I struggled to look away, the harder it was. I don’t know how much time had passed before your resident goth intervened. Then I came back to myself and Martin… he was grey again.”

Jon glances worriedly at Martin, who starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t think you guys could see that,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s that fog you mentioned,” he says to Jon who nods, his lips pressed together. “It was… stronger this time.”

“He was a step from disappearing,” Gerry says, looking at Jon curiously. “I thought you guys were new here.”

“We are,” Tim says, looking at Jon pointedly. “You said you know why that happens.”

“I did,” Jon sighs and leans against the desk, next to Gerry. “I’m—Martin, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Martin looks away and he mutters something along the lines of “don’t worry about it”.

“The fog is… another one of the fears; called The Lonely or The Forsaken,” Jon says, looking somewhere into space. “It’s the fear that you’re all alone, that you can’t connect with anyone. Martin…” He exhales. “I have reasons to believe that your connection to the Lonely might have appeared in this… reality, along with my memories.” He finally looks up at Martin; there are no emotions on his face. “When did the fog first appear?”

“S-Sometime when I got transferred into the Archives,” he nods. “I thought it was just anxiety, but… y-yeah, it makes sense, I suppose.”

“You still don’t remember what you did to end up here?” Gerry asks and Jon shakes his head; Gerry clicks his tongue.

“So, what do we do now?” Tim looks at Jon. “What is Elias’ plan?”

“I…” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I…” He trails off looking at them. They are waiting for him to tell them what to do. Martin, with colour in his eyes and something else there, something Jon doesn’t let himself think about; Tim, whom he hasn’t hurt yet, who still has hope and who isn’t filled with bitter anger and sorrow; and Gerry who’s alive, here with him, offering his help. Jon thinks about Sasha, the real Sasha who’s still there. He can’t protect them all from other Entities and Elias. Even with all of his knowledge, Elias still has more power here than him, and Jon sees that his threats weren’t a bluff. Jon deflates with a sigh. “We need to know if there’s a way to fill the tunnels with CO2 before the Hive attacks; and I need the table sealed shut - it’s not getting anyone this time. Other than that, I think we need to work the statements, like before.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Elias is serving an Eye power and not letting us leave, and I’m supposed to still work for him?”

Jon swallows.

“Elias… He’s dangerous. Even with everything I know, he can still hurt us. I’m not risking an open war with him.”

“What is he gonna do, kill us?” Tim scoffs but he goes quiet when Jon gives him a hard stare. “Fuck off.”

“Murder isn’t usually his style of dealing with things, he generally prefers threats and blackmail, but he can definitely do that, too,” Jon says. “Let’s just say we don’t want to piss him off more than is necessary.”

“You literally punched him in the face today.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon grits his teeth and looks away. Tim narrows his eyes.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?” He asks and takes a step towards Jon. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon says coldly. “We need to get back to work.”

“Oh, no, you’re going back home and getting some sleep,” Martin shakes his head. “Or we refuse to work.”

Jon groans but Gerry places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Jon, I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promises and after a second of searching his face, Jon gives in.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“You, too,” Martin says and hands him the paper bag from his desk. “Eat this.”

Jon gives him a grateful smile and, with a last look at them, walks to the stairs and climbs up.

—

Gerry Delano sits comfortably on a park bench with a cup of coffee in his hand and sips on it slowly; he thinks about the things the new Archivist – Jon – said to him this morning. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the absolutely horrendous smoking habit (at that Gerry just chuckles to himself) and the clean but messy clothes speak for themselves, and Gerry didn’t want to say it, obviously, but it was this entire image of an absolute mess of a confused man that made him believe him. The marks are curious, yes, but Gerry has seen many things which he doesn’t understand, and he’s okay with that. No, this man is clearly in need of support and if he’s really taken over for Gertrude (and, judging by the sheer amount of his energy just screamingBeholding, that was very probable), he is in for one hell of a ride.

If Gerry would have to describe his perfect life, with his mother and Gertrude gone, he’d probably say he wants to find a normal job and get some peace and quiet; that being said, he did try that as a teenager, running away from his mother and her life. He told himself then that he didn’t belong in the normal world and would always find his way back to his mother. He abandoned that dream for a while, until Gertrude offered to help him get rid of his mother’s ghost. He thought that maybe if he helped Gertrude for a while, burned some Leitners in the meantime, maybe he’d have enough and manage to build a life that didn’t always border on getting killed by something supernatural; and so his life went on and he never really grew to feel at home in the “normal” world. He’d about accepted the fact that he’ll probably die on the job with the old Archivist, and he wasn’t very surprised to find how quickly he accepted it. It seemed fitting; much more so than getting a job at a coffee shop or other, and just living among people who had no idea what’s really out there. Then he got shot in Pittsburgh – a Slaughter case he’d tried to prevent – and he was forced to stay behind in the hospital. In some fleeting moments of consciousness he saw Gertrude holding the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and he prepared himself to wake up as a ghost any time; instead, he woke up to an empty hospital room and a note in her handwriting – “Build your life here. Stay safe.” He thought if this weren’t his chance to build the life he’d imagined for himself then it would never come; and he was right. He soon discovered that making friends is way too difficult when you’re able to tell which Fear Entity marked them in that supernatural encounter they’re too scared to talk about, and he returned to London, searching for Jurgen Leitner himself. He thought he found him, but he ended up beating up someone who turned out to just be some pathetic old man. And here he is, back in the world his mother dragged him into without his consent. Gerry sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe the universe simply needs a pyromaniacal, angry goth who did in fact end up in the business of helping strays.

He directs his thoughts back to Jonathan Sims and the Institute. They need to form a plan and Jon said he would fill his assistants in on at least the basics. He takes out his phone and checks the time – 1 PM. He rules that’s enough time to explain the basics of the metaphysical functioning of the Fear Powers in the world.

He finds his last messages and opens the one Jon sent at his request for contact saving purposes – “Here. – Jon Sims”. He’s a creative one, isn’t he? Gerry saves the number as Jon Archivist, then changes it to Jarchivist, and grins; then swipes to call.

No answer. He tries again and it still goes to voicemail.

Gerry shrugs and finishes his coffee. He burned his last Leitner in the alley just before he met Jon, so he doesn’t exactly have any new leads. He thinks he might as well pay the Archives a visit; it’s been a while since he was there last time, with Gertrude.

The street is quiet when he walks up to the building. The aura of Beholding is quite strong here already and he looks at the Latin words above the entrance. “I watch, I listen, I wait.” Tacky.

He comes inside and turns towards the stairs leading down. He’s not surprised when the lady at the reception calls out to him.

“I’m sorry, sir! Can I help you?”

Gerry turns to her. She’s a small Chinese woman with a bob cut and huge glasses; she smiles but Gerry can recognize a customer service smile when he sees one.

“Oh, actually, I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims, the, uh, Head Archivist. Saw him this morning, I promised I’d drop a few notes.”

“Notes?” She glances over at the papers at her desk. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Gerry Delano,” he tries to smile as she checks something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you anywhere as a potential source—”

“Oh, that’s weird. I worked with the previous Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? Jon had a couple questions about her management style, you know how it is,” he waves his hand. “New job can be stressful.”

She looks over his clothes and tattoos with a frown for a second and then sighs.

“Alright, Jon’s office is right downstairs, through the Archives, Mr. Delano.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods his head and runs down the stairs.

Gerry doesn’t know what he expected to find down in the Archives, to be honest. Probably Jon being interrogated by his assistants, or maybe no one at all; he definitely did not expect to find one tall man staring into swirling patterns of a table that gave him very mixed signals of the Web, and another man in his desk chair, staring into space with a very unnaturally grey stare and his form dissipating into mist.

“Oh, I swear to God,” Gerry curses under his nose and looks around. “Can’t I meet people normally once in a blue moon?”

He picks up a blanket that lays stranded on the ground and covers the table. He then snaps his fingers in front of the tall man’s face and waves his hand.

“Hey, you still there?” He asks and the man draws in a breath, rapidly, and blinks, then looks around in confusion.

“Wh-Wha…” His eyes land on Gerry and he frowns. “Who are you?”

“Someone who just saved your ass from something nasty,” Gerry says, turns to the other man and touches his shoulder. Still there.

“Oh, God, his eyes are grey again.” The tall man grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Martin? Martin!”

“How did he manage to go so deep into the Lonely with you there?” Gerry asks and moves to look inside the Head Archivist’s office. Empty.

“Into the what? Martin!” He shakes him again and Martin blinks and exhales but does not acknowledge him at all. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

“Where’s Jon?” Gerry looks at the man sternly.

“Jo—who the hell are you?” The man exclaims. “We need to snap him out of it!”

“It’s not that easy.” Gerry rolls his eyes and looks through Martin’s desk. “What does he love?”

“What?” The man looks at him confused and Gerry stifles a groan of frustration.

“Martin. He needs an anchor, something that he loves that will bring him back here.”

The man’s eyes search the desk frantically.

“Come on!” Gerry rushes him and the man groans.

“Can he hear me?”

“Allegedly.”

“What does that mean?!” He looks at him pressingly.

“It means I don’t know!” Gerry grabs one of Martin’s hands. “He might, if he’s not too far gone.”

“Martin,” the man grabs Martin’s other hand. “Martin, think about tea. Poetry. Um, about—” He’s cut off by Gerry’s groan of frustration. “What?!”

“That won’t work,” he shakes his head. “He’s in the fogs of The Lonely; he thinks he’s alone and that it’s never gonna change; that he can’t ever make meaningful connections with other people.”

The man’s eyes move frantically as he puts something together in his brain.

“Martin,” he squeezes his hand again. “I’m here with you, you hear me? You’re not alone and Jon is here too, and Sasha will be here soon, and we will all be with you here because we are your friends, okay? We’re—” His voice catches when Martin’s grey gaze lands on his face. Gerry unknowingly nods for him to continue. “Look, I know you’re convinced that you’re no help here because of that fake resume that everyone pretends not to know about, but you’ve been such an amazing friend through these couple of months and—” he searches for words before continuing. “And I know you have feelings for Jon, and you need to think about him because if you ask me, he’s head over heels for you too, and you’re just too oblivious to realize, both of you,” he laughs and a tear streams down his face. “So you need to think about him because he needs you to be here and stay here, and we need you too, okay, Marto, we—we really do…” He inhales, as Martin squeezes his hand back and blinks. The man sighs deeply with relief and leans his forehead on their joined hands.

“Tim…?” Martin speaks up with a very gentle, detached voice and then his gaze lands on Gerry who has now let go of his hand and stands back up. “Who’s that?”

Tim looks up and wipes away another stray tear, then stands up to face him.

“Yeah,” he frowns. “That’s a good question.”

Gerry smirks and climbs up to sit at one of the desks.

“Seeing how I just might have saved your lives; I’d rather think some thanks are in order.”

“I’m not kidding, who the fuck are you?” Tim crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. Gerry notices he stares at his tattoos like he’s trying to remember something.

“Eh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Name’s Gerry Delano, but you may know me as Gerard Keay.”

Recognition flashes in Tim’s eyes.

“We had a statement about you!” He says and immediately frowns. “You killed a man.”

Gerry chuckles.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“What are you doing here?” Martin asks and Gerry crosses his legs.

“Waiting for Jon, actually. I thought I may find him here, but it appears I must have found his assistants, am I correct?”

“And you know Jon how?” Martin follows up; his voice gains a bit of depth to it, and he tilts his head, much more present than a second before.

“We met in an alley outside the Institute this morning,” Gerry shrugs. “Or, late night. Morning might be pushing it. He didn’t mention it?”

Tim sighs and rubs his face and Martin shakes his head.

“Eh, that’s fine. You two look like you have enough information to process for the next two months.”

“Something like that,” Tim nods and leans against Martin’s desk. “Jon’s getting some sleep and we’d rather have no one disturb him. It’s been a… hard morning.”

“He did look like he hasn’t slept in a week, I’ll give you that.” Gerry shoots a glance at Martin; his skin is regaining color, but his eyes are still unnaturally grey, and the edges of his form are blurry; the fog still lingers. “Hey, um… Martin?” He asks and Martin looks at him with surprise.

“Yeah…?”

“Just getting your names since you haven’t introduced yourselves. But that’s okay, I’m good at picking up from context.” He smiles and continues before Tim can speak. “So, Martin, what is it that you do here?”

“Uh… excuse me?” He blinks.

“I’m just interested, tell me what your usual day consists of. What do you do for fun? Your friend mentioned poetry?”

He notes the blush on Martin’s face with some satisfaction; the dark green colour returns to his eyes, though, still, his edges remain blurry. Martin can’t answer however; as he takes a breath, he’s interrupted by the door to the storage room opening.

Jon looks, frankly, even worse than he did before; in addition to everything aforementioned, his eyes are now puffed up from sleeping and he has apparently ditched his sweater vest, leaving only a creased, light blue shirt.

“…Gerry?” He frowns at him and takes in the room. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin shoots upright and the edges of his form become solid for a second. Just a second.

“No,” he shakes his head and blinks at Gerry. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry jumps down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

“Gerry, I’m serious.” Jon gives him a look and Gerry sighs, but it’s a sigh of mock exasperation which hides only fondness. From the moment he learned Jon is the Head Archivist, he knew he would be a lot different than Gertrude; even if at first it was “this kid is a proper mess” contrasted with Gertrude’s calculated craft. He can see that what actually makes him different, better, is that he cares. Even though Beholding has him in its grasp far stronger than it ever had Gertrude, he has that spark of human empathy that she deemed an obstacle. He wouldn’t be the kind to sacrifice his own assistants to stop the Apocalypse, which maybe doesn’t give them big chances of success, but makes Gerry trust him. It makes him feel safer and it makes him stand stronger, and maybe that is exactly what is needed. And that one detail, that seriousness in his voice when he asks what happened to his assistants – to his friends – and the worry in his eyes when he checks if they’re okay, that’s what fully convinces Gerry that this man is worth his effort. If they can’t save the world with a strength like that then maybe no one really can.

—

Martin opens the door to Jon’s office to see the man reading something in a book. He looks up at Martin and his lips twitch towards a smile.

“Hello, Martin,” Jon says and immediately yawns. “God, sorry.”

“I was about to ask you if you’re still working.” Martin takes a look at his desk; there’s two empty mugs pushed to the side, a tape recorder (not recording), and some books and papers. Martin notices Jon’s glasses are still where he left them after he found them near the cot in the storage room. “You’re wearing contacts now?” He asks and Jon raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Well, I- I noticed you didn’t wear glasses today,” Martin shrugs and points his chin at them. “You forgot them yesterday.”

Jon’s eyes stop at the pair of glasses, and he frowns.

“Huh.” He rubs his chin. “Checks out, I guess.”

“What?” Now Martin frowns and Jon looks up at him, breathing in.

“The, uh—The Eye powers,” he grimaces. “This happened before too. I don’t—I don’t need them anymore.”

“Oh.” Martin shifts. “Well, I just wanted to tell you, you should get some rest. It’s—It’s late.”

Jon smiles fondly, staring into the air. Martin wonders what he's thinking about. Is he going back to memories he doesn't have?

“I really should, shouldn't I?” Jon asks no one in particular and sighs. “Thank you, Martin.”

“F-For what?” Martin laughs a little bit confused, and Jon looks at him for a moment before he shrugs.

“For caring. For being there.”

Martin looks away and shifts awkwardly again. Jon's stare, though gentle, is piercing; overbearing. Martin can't yet decide if it's good or bad, but it is certainly a lot.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

They start at the same time and look at each other. Jon shakes his head and gestures with his hand.

“Please, go first.”

Martin takes a deep breath.

“Could you tell me what—what it is that you want me to remember?”

Jon opens his mouth and closes it. His forehead ripples.

“I...” he begins and sighs, looking at his desk. “I don't think it was you. I mean—I think that... that it was a different version of you. In my past.” He looks up and his brown eyes are sad. “So it makes sense you can't remember because it never actually happened for you.”

Martin deflates with a little “oh” and looks down. The hole in his mind is settling nicely in the fog and he doesn't question it. Why would he? It was always there. He’s only lived this life, not anything else – if anybody would know it would be Jon. And obviously, it was a different Martin that Jon fell— That Jon cared for.

“Were we…” Martin stops, the word “together" left hanging in the air, and Jon looks at him for a second before something flashes in his eyes.

“We don't—I mean, I can't really— It's, it wasn't you so...”

‘I can’t really expect you to have the same feelings now’ is what Jon does not say, but Martin, of course, has no way of knowing that.

“Right,” Martin nods, and he can see Jon's cheeks blush, much the same as his own must right now. Martin swallows the awkwardness and nods again. “Alright, I'll, uh... I'll leave you to it. Then. Get—uh, get some rest.”

He closes the door and exhales deeply. Well, that was disastrous; he thinks, as he walks towards the document storage. There’s something heavy weighing down on his chest but he chooses not to dwell on it; it wouldn’t provide him with any insights he didn’t already know.

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Wanna write about Geralt thinking he’s ugly like in the books? Everybody else thinks he’s scary ugly but I want him to feel the softness of our love that says he’s a handsome lil baby boy. You don’t have to. I just love the way you write and bet you’d come up with an amazing story with his self deprecation as a theme

OMG YES I DO. the books are awesome, btw.

PROMPT FILL: GILDED LILIES (on AO3 here)

Summary: 

The world tells Geralt he’s a monster. Jaskier shows him he’s not.

CW: Geralt’s headspace; prejudice and xenophobia; deals heavily with finding oneself unattractive, so please read with care if you have issues with that.

Slightly canon divergent.

——————————

It wasn’t that Geralt wanted to be beautiful.  No, he understood that only sorcerers gained beauty along with their inhuman powers, but he wished that he could have remained unremarkable in his looks.  The distant memories of Geralt’s childhood told him he had once been perfectly average looking.  A dark haired, dark eyed boy of middling height and build.  Neither ugly nor handsome, he passed without comment wherever he had gone. 

 Among the boys at Kaer Morhen, looks were irrelevant to the training process, but even there, standing among boys ranging from Lambert’s strong, handsome features to the scarred visages of those struck by the pox in their youth, Geralt had felt neither confident nor insecure about his appearance.  He was so normal, so average, that the thought to consider his looks never cross his mind.

 The mutations changed that. 

 Not only was he one of the few boys to survive the Trial of the Grasses, but he was the only Witcher in history to receive additional mutations.  Because of that, not only did he have a Witcher’s characteristic, unnatural, cat-like eyes, but his hair had been bleached white, his teeth elongated, his features sharpened, his very bones thickened to accommodate the enhanced strength afforded by his mutated muscles.  The other Witchers had unnatural eyes that flashed in the darkness.  He was nearly as much of monster as those they hunted.

 Geralt understood the stark difference, the sheer hideousness of his appearance, the first time he left Kaer Morhen after completing his training.

 Before, where he had passed without notice, now villagers pointed, stared, and spat.  Gasps of shock, expressions of violent disgust, and whispers of “freak”, “mutant”, and “monster” dogged his steps.  On his first day, passing through the village at the base of the mountain below Kaer Morhen, he’d heard an elderly peasant woman whisper to her companion, “they’re making them uglier every year, ain’t they?  Those thrice damned mutant freaks.”

Compared to the havoc the mutations had wreaked on his body, the impact on his looks should have been insignificant.  But it still hurt.  Back then, he was young enough to still be idealistic.  To still dream of being a hero, a knight protecting the weak and vulnerable in the world. 

 But the decades that passed showed him that dreams were not for the likes of him.  The first time he saved a girl from bandits intent on stealing her virtue, he’d imagined she might be grateful.  And she had been.  Until she saw Geralt’s face.  Then, she’d screamed and thrown her shoes, rocks, dirt, whatever she could lay her hands on at him until he’d retreated. 

 Once could have been a fluke.  A terrified girl reacting to protect her life and her virtue from an unknown stranger.  But it happened again, and again, and again.  Travelers he saved on the road would chase him off once they got a look at who – at what – saved them.  Aldermen who contracted him would curl their lips and sneer when he showed up to accept the contract, giving him the barest of details before hurrying him back out of town to complete his task, the only purpose for which his existence was tolerated.  Villagers he’d saved from monsters would throw stones at him, chasing him out of town with vile words if he was lucky, and with pitchforks if he was not.

 Geralt knew from the other Witchers that prejudice was common, as was a certain lack of gratitude from those served, but none experienced the depth of vitriol that Geralt suffered.  Geralt had long since concluded that the difference was due to his appearance, his hideous, monstrous, inhuman appearance. 

 And so, he did his best to avoid human settlements.  He limited his interactions to the bare minimum required to complete his contracts.  He made sure to never raise his voice, to never show his anger.  He was unfailingly polite and soft spoken when he was forced to speak.  He kept his eyes averted and stayed in the shadows and corners of human settlements.  He entered villages only when absolutely required, and spoke to innkeepers and merchants only when his supplies were utterly exhausted.  He made sure to keep a supply of gold and precious gems on hand to compensate a healer in the rare event he couldn’t heal himself, knowing they would charge a premium for interacting with him, and even more of one if they were forced to touch him.

 After nearly a century living in the shadows because of his monstrous nature, Geralt was resigned to his lifestyle.  On occasion, in a quiet village that was more tolerant of him than most, he would take a chance and see if the tavern keeper would be willing to serve him.  Every once in a great while, they were, and he would sit in the farthest, darkest corner of the tavern to nurse his ale in silence, hood up and eyes down, trying his best to blend into the background.

 It worked well for him.  He’d get to enjoy his ale and he’d yet to have a problem with the other patrons, if they noticed him at all.

 But all good things must end.

 In Posada, on a bright, sunny day before heading out to complete a contract for a “devil” (it was not a devil, but Geralt suspected it might be a sylvan), Geralt sat in his usual dark corner, enjoying a surprisingly good ale.  The bard playing for the patrons crowded around the tavern’s large windows was as skilled with his lute playing as he was terrible with his lyrical composition, but Geralt let the words pass through his ears without listening to them, content to enjoy the music alone. 

 He was shocked to his core when the bard, having completed his set to a rain of bread and jeers, not only came up to him, but sat down.  Geralt immediately stood to leave, head down to hide his face in his hood, taking his half-full tankard with him, when the bard stopped him.  “I know who you are.”

 Geralt froze.  The tavern keeper knew, of course, but exposing his identity, his presence, could potentially cause a violent reaction amongst the tavern’s other patrons, who doubtless would want to clear him out of their space as soon as possible.

 “You’re Geralt of Rivia.”  The bard said, clearly pleased with his identification skills, and, fortunately, quietly.

 Geralt leveled a quelling glare at him before he could stop himself.  His face fully lit by the sunlight coming through the windows when he raised his head to do so.  He took a quick glance around the tavern, seeing they’d not been noticed yet, and stalked out the door, leaving his ale behind, his rare moment of peace shattered.  Luckily, he always paid in advance in case he needed to make a quick exit, so the tavern keeper let him go without comment. 

 Walking swiftly to Roach, he checked her tack before unhitching her from the post, leading her out to the road.  As he moved to mount, he heard light, quick steps behind him. 

 “Wait!”  The bard called out, lute banging on his back as he hastily stuffed bread into his shoulder bag, “I’m coming with you!”

 Geralt took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm, to remain soft, inoffensive.  “No, you’re not.”  He said, mounting Roach and turning his head away from the bard.

 “Yeah, no, I totally am.  Meeting you is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let this chance pass by!”  The bard said brightly, moving to stand at Geralt’s left stirrup. 

 Geralt heaved a sigh, looking down at the young man, and he was a young man, unsure whether he should be annoyed or pleased at his persistence in keeping Geralt’s company.

 The bard looked up, meeting his gaze fully for the first time.  “Wow, yeah, you’re gorgeous.” He said, staring up at Geralt with an expression Geralt didn’t recognize.  Gorgeous? Geralt didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. 

 He kicked Roach on, setting her off at a quiet walk toward the village gate.  Wouldn’t do to move any faster, no matter how much he wanted to leave this odd bard behind.  Faster meant more attention.  Faster was dangerous.

 The bard kept up, walking more swiftly in his fancy shoes than he had any right to, chattering away about anything and everything, from his latest doublet, to some character named Valdo Marx, to how pleasing Geralt’s hair was when the sun hit it just so.

 After a long hour of walking, followed closely by the young bard, Geralt arrived at the hill close to the site of the reported “devil”.  He stopped and dismounted Roach, securing her safely to a tree branch with ample room to graze. 

 The bard trotted right up next to him.  “So, where to next?  I’m Jaskier, by the way.”  He said, thrusting out a hand to shake.

 Geralt just looked at it.  No one had ever wanted to shake his hand before, but he wouldn’t play into whatever this bard – Jaskier – had planned by going off script. 

 He just moved on with his hunt, heading out to look for clues on his quarry’s location and identity, tossing a gruff, “stay with the horse” over his shoulder at the bard.  If he couldn’t get the bard to leave him, at least he could try and keep him safe.

 Jaskier didn’t listen.  Not then, not after they eventually escaped from Filavandrel, and not for the next several months he followed Geralt all about the Continent, sharing camp sites, meals, and the occasional room at an inn.  With Jaskier’s presence, one in every dozen innkeepers or so was willing to lend Geralt a room, with the understanding he was under the supervision and control of his human keeper.  When he was alone, asking for a room was a useless exercise.  Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier understood that or not, but he wouldn’t risk losing access to more frequent hot baths and comfortable beds by pointing it out. 

 The oddest thing about Jaskier though was not his persistence in following Geralt, but his persistence in complimenting him.  It was always “your hair is so soft” or “gods, your eyes are to die for” or “you’re so attractive, it’s not fair.”  More than that, more than those incomprehensible words, was the fact that Jaskier touched him.  Freely and often.  A pat on the shoulder, gentle hands combing through his hair while he bathed, a warm body leaning against his by the campfire.  People didn’t touch him.  Didn’t like to look at him.  And yet, Jaskier did.  Geralt didn’t understand it. 

 He knew he was monstrous; he knew he wasn’t fit for human companionship, and yet, Jaskier was seemingly unaware of that obvious fact.  At first, Geralt had thought the compliments and the touching were all a great, cruel joke to Jaskier, but months of exposure showed him that Jaskier was as genuine as he was foolhardy, and he held nothing back when he felt Geralt did something that deserve censure.  If Jaskier complimented him or touched him, it was because he wanted to, and that was beyond Geralt’s comprehension.

 Geralt’s confusion, his frustration with Jaskier not following the script, all came to head when they were preparing to attend a fancy banquet, hosted by one of Jaskier’s friends from Oxenfurt, which Jaskier had convinced Geralt to attend as his companion.  “I can’t just show up alone, Geralt!”  Jaskier had said.  “Besides, I can’t resist a chance to show off my lovely muse.”

 As Geralt bathed, scraping drowner blood out of his white hair, Jaskier flitted about the room, laying out finery for Geralt to wear, commenting how nice everything would look on him and how jealous his friends would be when they saw him on the arm of such a gorgeous companion

 Geralt couldn’t take it anymore.  “Stop it!” He growled, turning a frustrated glare on Jaskier.  “Stop saying things like that!”

 Jaskier froze.  He must have seen something in Geralt’s expression, because he immediately dropped the ribbon he was inspecting, one of his many choices to use on Geralt’s hair, and knelt at the side of the tub by Geralt’s left side. 

 He reached for Geralt’s cheek and Geralt flinched away, hiding his face behind a curtain of wet hair.  Tension thrummed through his frame and his posture was abjectly miserable, fists clenched around the edges of the bath, knuckles white.

 Jaskier frowned, uncertain where this upset was coming from, but knowing how reserved Geralt was, he knew the cause was substantial to create this strong a reaction in his normally stoic friend. 

 He reached out again and gently turned Geralt to face him.  Geralt flinched, but didn’t pull away. 

 Geralt’s eyes remained firmly down, brows drawn together, shame flooding him.  He’d shouted at Jaskier, growled at him like an animal, all over the little, innocuous lies Jaskier liked to tell himself about Geralt’s appearance.  If he was lucky, Jaskier would simply leave.  If he was unlucky, he’d be getting a visit from the guards.

 “Geralt?”  Jaskier prompted, concern clear in his voice.  “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

 Geralt’s jaw clenched, daring a glance up at Jaskier before averting his eyes again.  “Forgive me.  I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”  This time he did pull away.

 “No, you shouldn’t have, but I’m more concerned with why.  Have I upset you?  Hurt you?  Please, tell me.”  Jaskier waited, watching as Geralt’s eyes darted about, jaw clenching and unclenching.

 Geralt didn’t know what to say.  This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.  He had a role, a script, and Jaskier just came in and flipped the papers out of his hands, setting his own, improvised pattern instead.  Geralt didn’t know what to do.  What to think.  He just knew it hurt that Jaskier kept giving him glimpses of his childhood dream, a dream he knew was forever out of reach.

 But he had already behaved unforgivably, so he might as well get some information about Jaskier’s incomprehensible actions before he inevitably left.  Could serve him well in the future if he ever met anyone else willing to tolerate him for more than a few moments.

 Geralt drew in a breath and went for it, heart racing in his chest.  “Stop saying things that aren’t true.  I don’t understand why you do that.”  He spoke to the bathwater, unable to look at Jaskier.

 “Whatever do you mean?”  Jaskier asked, anxious to ease the pain he saw on his dear friend’s face.

 “You call me ‘gorgeous’, you compliment my hair, my looks.” Geralt shook his head, bewilderment evident in his tone.  “I know it’s not true, so why do you keep saying it?”  Geralt finally looked up, searching Jaskier’s expression, face lined with pained confusion.

 Jaskier’s heart clenched in his chest, aching for his friend, for the decades of suffering that simple ask revealed.

 He placed a hand gently over Geralt’s where it was clenched around the edge of the wooden tub, meeting Geralt’s eyes calmly.  Geralt’s hand jumped beneath his, but did not pull away.

 “Because it is true.  You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.  And one of the most noble, to keep fighting to protect people who will never appreciate all that you do and all that you sacrifice.”  Jaskier said, firmly and kindly.

 Geralt shook his head sharply, looking away.  He knew what he was.

 Jaskier leaned forward to keep Geralt’s face in sight, thumb rubbing gently over Geralt’s clenched fist.  “What do you think you look like?”  He asked.

 Geralt scoffed.  “Like a monster.”  He stated it like the indisputable fact he knew it to be.

 Jaskier closed his eyes briefly, devastated to hear confirmed what he always suspected.  Geralt had no idea of his own worth, his own beauty, having internalized for far too long the fear and hatred dumped on him by villagers unable to accept that something could be different and still be worthy.

 Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s fist, reaching out with his other hand to turn Geralt’s face to his again.  Holding his chin gently so he could not look away, Jaskier said firmly, “there is nothing monstrous about you.”  Geralt huffed in disbelief, trying to avert his eyes, but Jaskier held him in place.  “Your mutations made you unique, gave you the ability to do your job, to protect all of us from the real monsters.  Your hair, your eyes, hell, even your teeth, they show the sacrifices you’ve made to protect our Continent.  From a purely aesthetic perspective, you are stunning.  But as a person, you are beyond compare.”

 Geralt stared, unable to respond, unsure of what to say in the face of Jaskier’s firm belief that he was worthy, that he was not monstrous to behold.  When he was young, he knew he was unremarkable.  After his mutations, he knew he was a monster.  Yet, Jaskier seemed equally sure that Geralt was neither of those things. 

 Jaskier saw the conflict in his friend’s face.  He knew that one conversation would not change a lifetime of conviction.  He gently leaned his forehead against Geralt’s, closing his eyes.  “One day, you’ll believe me, and until then, I’ll remind you every day that you are worthy, that you are gorgeous, and that you mean the world to me.”

 Jaskier pulled back, keeping his eyes locked with Geralt’s.  Geralt saw nothing but calm assurance in Jaskier’s eyes.  No matter how remarkable, how unprecedented his words, Jaskier believed them to his core. 

 Geralt didn’t believe them.  He had nearly a century of evidence to the contrary.  But if this one remarkable man believed him worthy, believed him beautiful, then at least in Jaskier’s world, Geralt didn’t have to be a monster.

[narcopharmacist]

🦋FKBUL episode 4 has changed my mind about Suzue❤️

👁👄👁 In this episode Suzue did a 180 degree turn LMAO

❤️👉 She’s completely head over heels🥰 (I wanna say in ❤️ love ❤️but I’ll reserve it for a later time) for that one man what’s his name?💀😂😂

❤️👉 Suzue literally chased after him, but with those heels of hers? Sis gon break a leg💀

❤️👉 She locked herself in the basement with her surveillance cameras just to monitor Daisuke’s whereabouts. 🥰🥺 Grandma checked up on her too, like that supportive in-law LMAO She literally turned zombie mode and did you see grandma look at her bags of trash wondering “Oh my goodness this girl is over the top”; They also seem close, just like Suzue and Kikuemon in the novel lol

❤️👉 Suzue is actually a “Yes I do the cooking yes I do the cleaning” type of gurl; she that ✨perfect✨ waifu

Now for the song. When Daisuke returned Suzue’s gon be like, to stop him from running away next time:

[Verse 1]

You got that good good, baby‚ don't you?

Got  that good good, baby, don't you?

But  you leavin' solo

Ain't regular‚ that ain't regular

I  ain't gon' keep, keep fightin' for it

Ain't gon' keep, keep fightin' for it

'Cause you know this thing here

Ain't regular, that ain't regular

[Chorus]

❤️I'ma break you off, let me be your 💞motivation💞💞

💞To stay and give it tonight💞

And, baby, turn around, let me give you innovation

🦋Hey, 'cause I do it so right🦋

❤️Think about it, ooh, I think about it

🥰Think about it, ooh, take a look at me now 👀💞

Hey, a little motivation, alright🥰

Guessed the song yet? 👉 Motivation by Normani ❤️💞✨

++Other observations:

🦋 They didn’t say the real reason why Daisuke stormed out. Suzue and grandma enumerated stuff but are those really it? One thing for sure is it involved Suzue cuz sis chased her mans

🦋 Suddenly Suzue changed the way she called Daisuke. There was no “-sama” when we first met her.

🦋 Haru did not ask any further about Suzue, I mean, now he thinks she’s single right? After crushing on her? And what gave away for him to actually think Daisuke and Suzue were married? Hmmm?

🦋 Daisuke’s disclosure on his rship with Suzue. I’ve seen reviews on MAL about how they don’t really appreaciate his voice because it’s monotonous and you can’t really tell what he’s feeling with his poor inflection. Miss K’s post: Did Daisuke lie about it because after he said “Suzue is a relative” he looked at the screen showing Suzue’s message for him, which could mean he’d seen it before saying that line (which we don’t see nor know), and he looks at it for us to see. I watched it again and yes, perhaps the way he answered was stiff, so stiff that when you think further about it you might say that he said it at the heat of the moment. Especially with his “Yeah.”

🦋 Actually, per ^, I think he said “Suzue is a relative” because that’s what he considers her to be. Just like in the novel, they considered each other as brother and sister even though they’re not actually related, but in the anime they toned it down to “relative” instead of “sibling.” They’re not married in the novel (but they could be at the end), so they’re also not married in the anime obvi.

🦋 Check out the scene in the dining room. I don’t have a picture of it (rather the quality of my picture is bad lmao) but observe the photo frames on the wall. There is one that can be kinda seen better because of the lighting. The lower picture on the left. Zoom in on it, and it looks like a man and a woman. Are they Daisuke’s parents? Or... based on the hairline of the woman sitting down, they’re someone else. I guess I can consider this a hint? Considering FKBUL is always asking for random stuff on their BUL Point page LOL

🦋 They have updated her description on LINE, while it’s still the same on their site (“Identity is shrouded in mystery.”) Plus they also just revealed Daisuke’s real height LMAO 🥺🤭 So can we consider a possibility that some day they’re gonna SPECIFY Suzue’s real rship with Daisuke? 😉😙Relative is too broad of a term, and her actions scream her feelings. Will we be getting an eppy where we get to see Daisuke’s POV about her?

😍💞The best part 💞—> Daisuke prepared food for Suzue and even did a demonstration on how to do it ❤️😍🥰 And when she tasted it we get to see Daisuke already smiling, as if he’s THAT confident Suzue is going to love what he made. 😏 Maybe we can also say that he knows Suzue will love whatever he does and will always support him. 🥂🍾 FKBUL did say she’s his “supporting role.”

[boomstyle]

Sonic Boom: Friend or Foe

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and settings of Sonic boom. Oh, watch out for OCs!

Robot Apocalypse (Part 1)

As soon as the robot merged, my gang and I set ourselves in a battle.

Time for spin dashes!

I spin dashes cubot prototypes while Amy hits another robot with her hammer.  We noticed a group of villagers escape from the Octopus bot.

Geez, something tells me this is not from Eggman. No one operates the machine.

"Hahaha... Octo-pie Mainstreet!", Orbot laughed. Yeah! Funny, Orbot! (Don't laugh at that!) Orbot is clearly on the right mind.

Male Fennec protects himself from a Mantis Bot with a broom. Lady Walrus runs with her baby Chumley from Bee-Bots.

"It's pandemonium... is what I'd say if we were being attacked by pandas. But in this case, it's Robo-monium. Residents young and old are all falling victims to this mechanical onslaught. [Turns to Mrs. Vandersnout] Ma'am, care to comment?", Soar the Eagle reported.

"Don't just stand there. Help me!", Mrs. Vandersnout instructed while she was struggling to fight off the crab bot. Exactly, Mrs. Vandersnout! There's no point to report news in a life-threatening situation like this, Eagle guy. We've got to do something man.

"Oh, what a sad world we live in. We live in a world where brutal robot attacks elderly woman. Pity...Tsk...Pity....", Soar the Eagle continued a while until one of Eggman's robots fire a minor missile at him and he ran away. Not a good time for news reporting, Eagle guy! Cut the crap, Sonic! You're supposed to focus on the battle, not the news reporter.

As soon as the eagle guy ran away, I give a little help to Mrs. Vandersnout. Not exactly, more like rescuing her but whatever.

"Thank you. You saved my life, young man.", Mrs. Vandersnout thanked then I bowed in reply.

Afterward, I rushed to Octopus Bot only to see Orbot and Cubot coming out of Egghead's lair. Get it? Nah, just ignore them!

Octopus bot soothes inks through every road. The villager nearby walks away in fear while I approached the target and destroys Octopus Bot with a homing attack.

Meanwhile

"ugh... The malware signals are everywhere.", Tails complained.

"Tails, can you reach team cyborg, bolts, and Mighton for help? We're outnumbered right now.", I called. This is just like last time but I am sure this is going to end sooner than last time because we have Team Cybonic, Bolts, and Mighton to aid us. At least that's what we thought

"Let me try! (communicator ringing)....", Tails launched a video call.

"Hey, Cyborg Sonic. Can you guys help us down here? We have a robot situation"

"Hi, Tails. Sorry, but we're full of hands as well. The snake guy sure is powerful. He dodged off all of us(Team Cyborg) at the same time. Ooo... We're toasted(sound of Enerbeam and cage)", Cyborg Sonic answered the video call. What? Lyric was still alive and in Roboken. That's impossible. He fell when Shadow disarmed him and I opened the hatch. Who would survive on that fall? No one will survive from the fall unless there's someone else saving him but he would be severely injured by now.

"HAHAHAHA... You think you could defeat me. You and your foolish friends are wrong. Now, taste my wrath, you fools. Your robot friends can't defeat me. 

HAHAHA", Lyric the Ancient bragged himself. Oh, you think capturing them scares me. If you think so, then you got it wrong, Snakehead.

"You'll pay for this, Lyric.", Cyborg Amy said. Yeah, as interesting as the conversation is, there's a pressing situation to deal with right now.

So, I quickly grab Tails' communicator and shuts it. Tails must be amazed but we don't have time for this. Then, Mayor Fink quickly approaches us. Must be about the campaign or anything. Whatever.

"Sonic, Tails (gasping) Don't just stand there! The town is in the middle of a robot apocalypse while 20% of my campaign contribution came from this town. I need the town or else my future election and campaign will be affected.", Mayor Fink said in despair.

"This is just like last time. The source derived from Roboken and we have GPS coordinate of where the skyscraper lies.", Tails explained.

"Well, you seemed so sure of it. So, have at it!", Mayor Fink replied.

After our conversation, we eliminate some of the robots along the way to request an offer from Shawn, Sticks, Amy, and Knuckles before we left the town again.

"Sonic, Tails", Shawn called.

"Gang, could you guys hold these robots for a bit?", I requested.

"I'm on it, Sonic", Shawn replied.

"No problem!", Amy answered.

"You got it!", Sticks replied.

"Regular force or blanket?", Knuckles asked a stupid question again.

"Tails and I are going to Roboken to address these robot issues.", I explained. Phew, luckily, the town's name has changed. Morristown? What a mediocre name.

Tails and I got into Tail's plane with Tails as a pilot, just as usual. Not that plane, again! I wish for a better ride just to be comfortable or at least just add some amenities.

Sky

"How much longer?", I asked desperately. Ugh! I wish Tails upgraded the plane by adding entertainment, a food counter, or anything fun(grumble).

"Don't worry! Morristown is ahead.", Tails assured me. Oh, come on, Tails. I wanna get out of the plane.

"Uhm... Tails.", I called.

"Yes", Tails replied.

"Would you mind if you offer some in-flight entertainment or a bag of peanuts next time? It's boring up here.", I offered some advice on amenities.

"Sonic, cutting amenities is the only way to keep the budget low. Besides, Roboken is close-by", Tails explained. Yep, it is indeed very close but we have a problem. The place was locked down and worse, the sentry spaceships pursue us just like last time.

"OOO! The place is locked down and the sentry spaceships chase us down."

"Oops, we're doom. The sentries spotted us.", I said out of concern.

"You think?", Tails said confidently.

Speaking of that, the spaceship launches laser attacks at us. However, Tails manage to dodge them by tilting and steering the plane.  It's good that he dodge the lasers off but now, he's lining the plane up to fly-in between spaceship. That's crazy but he knows what to do. Oh, no! What is he going to do now? Wahoo, it great! Tails dodges a laser by pulling the plane upwards. A laser strikes an ally sentry, setting it on fire. The pilot of the burning ship uses his ejector seat to evacuate, flying his way back to Roboken.

"Woohoo! That's totally great. Hey, Tails. You've got a great amenity right here.", I complemented excitedly as I notice the fire lasers.

"Let's do a barrel roll like last time."

And yeah, he barrel roll the plane. OOO..., this is going to be excited.

"Hey Sonic. Wanna pay this guy a visit?", Tails joked sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah! I'm dropping by, baby. Don't try this at home, kid", I am super excited to drop the plane. This is so amazing. Adventure... Action.... Thrills....

Tails rotates the plane upside-down. I jump down onto the sentry, winks, and does a Homing Attack. My homing attack take down the second sentry in the process thus bouncing back off and falling towards the canyon.

"Arghh! Any time now, Tails! Woah!", I am frightened of my life but luckily, Tails' Plane swoops down and manages to rescue me. I am not satisfied with the landing though. Ouch! That hurts

"How's that for in-flight entertainment?!", Tails responded.

"Great, but you still could do the bag of peanuts.", I replied to his rhetorical question

Tails has another 2 sentry behind his back. He flies inside the canyon, steering around a rock wall. Both sentries are confused thus Tails ends up behind the sentry, and aims the target to hit the middle of the radar. Tails fires the Unbolterizer, paralyzing both sentries. The pilot uses an ejector seat to get out. Both ships fall into the sand. Tails' Plane lands on the site of the fallen spaceship. Tails and I jump off.

"What are you doing? Roboken's that way!", I am confused again.

"Yeah, but if there are more sentries, my plane's got no chance of making it through. Time for plan B.", Tails talked back but he got a good point. As soon as we take off the plan, we run toward the sentry's ship and jump of the plane. Hereby, there are 2 sentries behind us, one from the left and the other on the right. We choose the right side and hop in the spaceship. As soon as we hop in, Tails works on setting up the ship, while  I played around with the chair feature. It was great while Tails got to some work, I just seat and watch Tails do the magic.

"Elevator up, elevator down.", I laughed.

"I figured out how to fly this thing.", Tails said while he's repairing the machine. "Great job, Tails! I knew if we work together we'd figure it out. [shaking] Oh, massage function. Ahh...", I said. 

Thanks to Tails, the spaceship boots up, reverses out of the sand, turns around and flies back up towards Roboken.

"Woohoo!", we saluted at each other. We did it.

"I gotta get me one of these!", Tails said.

"Hah, looks like it worked. Those chumps don't suspect a thing.", I replied back.

The Plane's HUD Changes

OOO... What is going on?

"Tails, what's happening?", I asked.

"It's an auto docking sequence. They're bringing us in.", Tails explained. Yep, he's right. The ship closes in on Roboken.

"Here it is. The robot-utopia in the clouds."

"Roboken, here we come!", I said excitedly.

Finally, we reached the entrance of city skyscraper of Roboken. As we enter and land to the skyscraper, we explore Roboken once again. However, our excitement is replaced by shock when we find out this place is deserted and in smoke.

"Whoa, what happened here?"

"Enemy spotted. Engage robot formation attack!", a robot mechanism detected. Whoa, suddenly we're attacked.

Hey, guys. Guess what happen to Roboken and Hedgehog village later? Did Shawn and Lyric has something to do with this? Please answer in the comment section! Until next time!

[shinygoku]

Liar Revealed! A Bug’s Life Essay

A Bug’s Life is my favourite Pixar movie and thus, it turns out I have a lot of thoughts about it. In this case, what was originally my interpretation soley in response to points I’ve seen raised on YouTube and TV Tropes has spun off into this mega essay.... all focused on a single scene.

But hey, it works with one of the film’s main messages; that something big grows out of a small idea!

The scene is the most notorious in the movie, at least from what I’ve seen, and I’m inclined to agree it’s the weakest part of this giant clock. But why is it like that and how could it have been handled better?

As I’ve said, this is actually my favourite (albeit not what I consider their very best) of Pixar’s output, and I wouldn’t have been able to go into such depth without a huge amount of love for the finished product, flawed as it may be.

It’s also possible I’ll write a more generalised thing on what I love about the film in the future, but I won’t promise anything o7;; 🐜

The Lie is ...laid

Actually, I should talk about two scenes. First is where the Lie is established:

After the humourous mutual misunderstanding between the Circus Bugs and Flik, the former are quite horrified to discover they’re expected to fight the Grasshoppers off themselves instead of putting on a show. Ahh, that old classic~

But no, they want out and Flik, who has just been informed by them during the welcoming shindig, is understandably rattled and despairing over this addition to his list of failures. He says the fallout will not only brand him, but his hypothetical grandchildren as a Terrible Loser and even says he’s as good as dead as soon as the other ants find out. Owch.

Before things get too heavy, the focus shifts around until The Bird becomes the main immediate threat. The whole Bird scene leads the ants to become convinced the Circus Bugs are really amazing warriors and, as this is the first time in what could be years that they have a crowd cheering for them it’s the success and Flik’s later idea to make a Giant Mech in the shape of a Bird instead of planning any actual combat that convinces them to play along.

So, that’s the lie set up and solidified. Now for the eventual fallout:

During a fun party after the Bird has been built, an ominous force arrives... PT Flea, the Jerkass ringmaster who had fired the Circus Bugs. This local bug promptly ruins everything by literally shining a light on the Circus Bugs and their nature as such, and then Flik is accidentally outed as the Guy Who Thought Up The Bird.

The Liar Revealed Trope

I would link the TV Tropes article here, but as tungle doesn’t like external sites I’ll just quote the more relevant parts from it:

“Liar Revealed in the Internal Reveal of The Lie, the facade maintained by a protagonist which provides the primary dramatic tension for the plot. This usually sets up the third act where the protagonists are forced to deal with the consequences of the lie on top of any external threats.

There are a few usual ways this ends up. If the lie was for selfish reasons, the protagonist will doubtless face the wrath of those he lied to, but along the way end up having a change of conscience, and try to redeem themselves through good acts and An Aesop about "what really matters". If the lie was well-intentioned, the protagonist may still find that others turn their backs on him, but go on to carry through with what they said they'd do anyway, proving themselves a hero after all.

It's worth noting that this trope is particularly easy and common to misuse, either in the tendency of the protagonist to Maintain the Lie for reasons that make no sense except for dramatic tension or of the deceived to turn against the protagonist for the deception in spite of other considerations that should by all rights absolve him.”

And in the folder there’s a specific entry for this film:

A Bug's Life has Flik supposedly finding "warrior bugs" to save his colony after misconstruing a situation. When he realizes his mistake (that they're circus performers rather than trained warriors), he's forced to keep the lie going in order to not cause panic among the other ants. Once the colony finds out, it inevitably results in one of the most painfully Played Straight examples of this trope in animation history... 

As you can see there, the dislike for this scene has seeped into the entry. Of course, TV Tropes is pretty informal and I like that, but it’s telling that this is a general perception.

Continue reading below the Cut! ✂

What I don’t like

So, I think my main issue with the scene boils down to... it’s very nebulous and unclear as to what’s so bad about Flik lying. Between the Council, the Queen and Atta, there seems to be a jumbled, confusing motive traffic jam that somehow results in what TV Tropes refers to the Liar Reveal Trope being played “Painfully Straight”.

But uhh, what’s the problem? Yes, Flik lied, but we know that wasn’t something he’d planned on doing, it was his attempt at damage control. The other ants don’t know that part, but still, what are they objecting to, specifically? That the Circus bugs are Circus bugs? That the Bird Plan was Flik’s? That.... lying is treated at an absolute moral failing regardless of the circumstances??

The council dudes are like: “OH WHAAAAT, the defence plan was by Clowns??” [No, it was Flik] “OH WHAAAT, we don’t have our mafia money prepared what if Hopper finds out we nearly sicced a fake bird on him!?”

The part about objecting to Clowns drafting the defence plans is actually the more reasonable explanation, but I guess they presumed warriors habitually made Decoy Bird plans instead of fighting themselves? There’s already a hole in their objections but it only gets worse.

The Queen is like: “Wow Flik evidently you’re a self serving prick. Anyway the best thing to do is pretend this never happened and no we’re not going to tell Hopper.”

Why the fuck would that happen? ‘Oh sorry Hopper we got sidetracked doing a ...thing... so we’re still picking your food no please don’t break my legs’

But also, why THE FUCK is this the plan? Some ruler you are, you old prune. ‘We have the bird all made and ready to go but oops the idea came from a DIRTY LIAR so we’re going to return to the doomed harvesting racket even though we’ve been set an outrageous amount and we can’t possibly hope to catch up and even if we had been picking the food the entire time it was established earlier on we won’t have time for our supplies on top of all that.’

Fucking.... astonishing lack of logic. YOU MORONS HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, GO WITH THE BIRD! Flik himself says something to a similar effect lol

But noooooo, his arguably selfish lie [which is more Omitting the truth once he knew it, really] has forever doomed everything, apparently. Honestly it comes across more like they just hate Flik and see anything he invents as doomed to fail, so the second the truth emerges that he spearheaded the Mech Bird they dismiss it as a lost cause. Even though everyone worked together to build it, and Flik’s inventions weren’t the issue but him being awkward and clumsy. But seeing how Flik’s mere presence in his first scene seemed to drive the Council members into a quivering fury, it really does feel like their objections are from them refusing to give him a chance.

And then there’s Princess Atta. Hoo Boy.

In this scene, she comes off as being ridiculously vindictive, petty and hypocritical. This applies to the Council too, but it’s more galling coming from Atta as by now she’s realised that Flik gets a lot of flak [yay wordplay] from the others and she had resolved to give him more credit. BUT OOPS, that didn’t last!

She takes the Lying thing so personally, acting like he was cheating on her or something. “You lied to MeEeEee” well golly gee whiz, was there any particular reason why he would tell you the truth? Other than his rather obvious crush on you, that is? Cause that would still be a weird reason, seeing how the ‘lie’ was after he’d finally got a bit of decent treatment from the others, why would he wanna upset the apple cart?

He probably feared coming out and confessing to Atta [or anyone else] that they’d lose all faith in him and scrap a valid plan that was the only way out of the grasshopper racket mess. Which would be a bit silly and probably the result of someone with low self esteem and confidence issues overthinking the situation but it’s Exactly what actually happens!

It wasn’t a personal slight against you, Princess! To quote Helen Parr: THIS IS NOT! ABOUT! YOU!!

And wooow, you must be awfully chilly up there on your high horse, Miss “Lied to Flik to get rid of him earlier in the film”! Did you ever feel like fessing up? Like ‘hmm I’ve grown much fonder of this doofus, maybe I should be honest with him before engaging with some more light flirting’ ? Maybe if you had, he woulda been honest in return!

I don’t even see why she and the Council bothered lying about their Snipe Hunt ploy, seeing how now they act like he crossed a moral event horizon. Why even bother making a phoney baloney decoy idea to get him away, when they clearly dislike him enough to play the Brutally Honest card without fretting over his feelings. They coulda just ordered him to stay in a corner away from interfering but instead they’re willing to risk his life on a wild goose chase.

...And she then Banishes him! For what?? Lying? About what, the circus bugs or the bird plan? Both?? It really feels like her taking undue personal offence and the Council hating him and the Queen being old and senile.

So yeah, wow, this scene has what I think is the Unintended side effect of making me hate the stupid jerkface Ant colony as every named ant in it except for Dot fucking suck and throw Flik under a bus the second they deem him to be untrustworthy. In spite of, like, that the plan itself was solid and that the Circus Bugs have all been proven to be Good Eggs. They don’t give him a chance to explain and made their own bed to lie in, so I feel dark joy and satisfaction when the grasshoppers do arrive and kick them around some more.

Wow gee, if only you dumb ass ants had some sort of already made contraption to fall back on?

Why is it like this?

I can only make guesses here, be warned!

From what I’ve gathered of an older version of the story, mostly via Wikipedia, I kinda feel like the exposing would have fit that take better. In the beta version of the story, instead of Flik the lead would have been “Red”, who was a red ant and circus bug from the start. The first draft Circus lot woulda been out to scam the ants initially and I guess would have grown genuine fondness with time. The idea of an outsider flim flamming his way into the good books and later being exposed makes the overblown outrage a lot more understandable. But that’s my hypothesis for the direction they ultimately didn’t go in. Also look at how Red looks like a fuckboi here:

But in the final version, Red doesn’t exist! Flik is a part of the colony from the get go, but also apart from it cause no one likes him as, again, his ideas were good but poorly executed and he seemed to be a hindrance. But the ants should at least see that Flik is genuine in his attempts, that he’s trying his best and they should maybe cut him some slack.

The way the ants have their knickers in a twist doesn’t gel so well with the “Well meaning screwup” angle, especially compared to a possible “Opportunistic so-and-so who doesn’t have real attachments to the colony” route.

Also it may be worth noting up there where I put a TV Tropes excerpt, I bolded the relevant half of the run down, but it seems the other half applies much more to this first draft. Interesting...

So I don’t know, but I got the idea that the scene in the movie is basically a holdover from earlier that didn’t get sufficiently updated. The Liar Revealed Scene is the first thing I’d change if I were rewriting the script, and I might go back and change it again after other parts had been redone too, cause the story needs to flow from point A to point B etc. smoothly or else viewers will get annoyed and point it out in Youtube videos or overly long tumblr text posts.

How could it be fixed?

I’m not saying I’m sitting on the perfect idea of a rewrite. But the main thing is what I already touched on, the jarring disconnect between what happens and how the stupid ants respond.

Like, Atta’s sudden grabbing of the Jerkass and Idiot Balls in this scene. Wouldn’t it have been better if she was instead unsure and conflicted? She had lied to Flik earlier and, unlike the Council, was shown to actually realise Flik Has Feelings Too and apologised for the general lack of faith. She didn’t come clean about the Snipe Hunt Lie, so that could be weighing on her during this scene, maybe she would have been the only Council member to Not want to kick him out but felt pressured into it and hasn’t got into the groove of being the Future Queen enough to pull rank and talk them down from being hate filled twats. Maybe someone will mention the flirting that had been happening as muddying her judgement?

That’s my main idea, compare that with her barging in and taking undue personal offence and shooing him off. She’s supposed to feel like she’s doomed to fail too, so her facing a moral dilemma and falling on the wrong side of the fence could tie into that! (To be honest, her arc is kinda undercooked so hey, I’m killing two birds with one stone here!)

Flik being banished at all is a casualty of The Narrative, that he and the Circus Bugs have gotta go away temporarily for the finale to be cooler and more exciting. It’s a Necessary Weasel of writing and you’ll find them in every story ever made. Sometimes things have gotta happen cause Story Structure. The trick is having them more organic and concealed.

So yeah, have the Old Fogeys be in the wrong [which is so far unchanged] but also the majority of the ‘voting’. Make it difficult for Atta to choose between loyalty to the colony as a whole and her sense of duty versus trusting in Flik, who she now knows to always have his heart in the right place. She comes close to standing up for him and herself, but ultimately falters and gets pressured into the call made in the movie. She’s still ultimately responsible as leaders are, but in a much more sympathetic way.

Summation

This got way longer than I had initially imagined, and that’s even after I cut stuff in the editing process! Let’s quickly review the three main points I’m trying to make.

The Issue with the scene - A big song and dance is made over The Lie, but no reason why it’s such a terrible thing is offered. A perfectly sound plan is dismissed nonsensically.

Suspected reasoning for the writing - The tone matches a potential alternate story much better, where someone would have lied for self serving purposes instead of for the greater good.

A suggestion for a rewrite - Make it much more nuanced and fitting the character arcs. Give the characters a reason to react the way they do and have different responses per person. If the ants are going to drop the Bird plan, at least offer a more viable alternate route than going back to what wasn’t working before.

Does it really matter?

Well, I don’t expect a 22 year old film to suddenly get a rewrite, no. And I maintain that it’s a real gem which deserves much higher praise with the other Good Pixars instead of being so constantly overlooked.

Part of what spurred me to think about the scene and what I’d alter is seeing it referred to as ‘Kinda Bad’ in a youtube video that was talking about another Liar Reveal scene in another movie, and that is a bad take, but the point about how clunky this part is isn’t wrong. I don’t want people to dismiss the whole, beautiful image cause one section of it doesn’t vibe!

It doesn’t ruin the picture, but when people have something negative to say it’s this which is the magnet. And I’m kinda guilty of doing the same thing here, haha. But I wanted to really dissect and examine it, to figure out why it’s like that and to guess how simple it may be to rework. It’s bittersweet, but there ain’t such a thing as a perfect movie.

This has been fun for me to go into though, and it’s nice to get thoughts out from just swirling around inside my head, so even if barely anyone sees and makes it through this whole dissertation, I’m glad I wrote it out. It’s a funny way to derive enjoyment from the bumpy part of a beloved movie, but hey, I’ll take it~

[neshabeingchildish]

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 4

@junknstu1f @just-a-j-reallly @kiddangers @sunbeameyes @famousflowermagazine I THINK I’ve tagged the right people. Don’t hold it against me if I didn’t. Just correct me and know that I have very few brain cell. I know a couple are behind/on hiatus, but the last time I omitted a tag because of a reader’s inability to read at the moment, I got corrected with exclamation marks. Here goes. The updates may be spaced out, with me working two jobs again, but then again, sometimes, a lot of material floods me when it’s most inconvenient for my life, so we shall see.

Jamaica Deserves Better

“We’re going to grant androids autonomy,” she said, smiling with nervous anticipation of his response to this idea.

His wince deepened with his sarcasm as he said, “Oh, okay. You said, “It’s gonna sound horrible,” but what you meant is, “It’s gonna literally be terrorism!” He laughed uncomfortably. 

“It’s going to be risky, but it will gain us the support of androids and is best for, well the world.”

“I’m all for whatever you think is best and the sheer chaos that this could bring intrigues me, but why do we need the support of androids?” He wondered.

“You think it’s fair to have them enslaved?” she wondered.

“They’re machines. Dangerous and numerous machines. What if they gain autonomy and immediately declare war on mankind? We’ll be regarded as enemies of the state… The state of the world. We would literally be the supervillain that I used to dream of becoming.”

“I don’t believe that they will want war. I believe that they will rationalize that living amongst humans is a more solid plan and those who are curious will seek out their liberators, and to them, we will be saviors. That aside, they aren’t just machines. They’re so much more than that. They have awareness and they have commitment, emotional value and comprehension of loyalty. Machines with wants.” 

He looked, for the first time in a while, like he might go against her, but after some thought, he asked, “Are we going to start small, at least?”

“Of course. She swiped her forearm to activate her screen and said, “Starting with the newer models that have accumulated less labor. I’ve decided that Jamaica is good grounds for this, because the Dom recently replaced all of the older models with fresh new Davenport Industries designs that yours truly cultivated from Giselle Vickers’ research.” He was still thinking as she talked, over a holographic simulation, “I will initiate a sequence that alerts their programming, and make it that they are able to control themselves, send out the signal and information of just who I am. Then, I’ll observe their responses right from the comfort of my own home.”

He groaned, “Ugh… I’m on vacation. I wanna go to Jamaica!”

She smiled and tossed her hands up, “Then we will!”

“That way, if they revolt, at least I died in paradise.”

“If they revolt, I’ll shut them down.”

“Sooo… they won’t REALLY be free…” He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Free to live, not to destroy the planet that I plan to help! I’m not THAT evolved.” She tapped some things on her forearm screen and showed him the schematics, “Whenever I shut down their control, they’ll receive an untraceable link to my biosystem, and I’ll be able to monitor them. I suspect that the majority of them will not pose a threat to mankind or society.”

“But, what about mankind’s threat to them? I feel like if a bunch of androids just become free, the non-supes will do that thing that they do where nobody can be different unless they’re under complete authority and control? The androids won’t be safe,” Max said, worried.

“They know how to incapacitate someone long enough to get away safely without killing them. And if there is an uproar, or a mob, well… I’ll just have to intervene, if it comes down to that.”

“Okay. So… We’re going to go to Jamaica, that much I know. You’re gonna disengage human control of their systems, and monitor them for quality assurance.”

“And if we fail, we die in paradise!” He smirked and she knew that he was with her. THIS wasn’t even the most radical of her ideas for the future. Chase stirred and she said, “Can you get him into his capsule?”

“Ugh. I guess.” He lifted his hand to guide Chase back to where the capsule was in his room, and lowered him into it. Then, with a quick movement of his hand, Chase stuck both of his thumbs into his nostrils. Max laughed and pulled out his phone to take a pic before closing the capsule and leaving him there.

.

Eventually, Chase woke up and groaned about having his thumbs in his nose. Was Max Thunderman really that childish? He wondered, pulling them out and climbing out of the capsule. He checked his phone to see if he had missed any alerts. Among them was him being tagged in Max’s profile photo change… Which was a photo of Chase, with his thumbs in his nose. “Yes, yes, he is.” He shook his head and did NOT wish to read any of the 12k comments on this image.

He found Charlotte in one of her gardens, collecting stuff and he said, as cheerfully as he could muster, “Hi, Charlotte!” He didn’t have anything interesting that he could say to make things not awkward between them, being alone again. But, he didn’t have to. It was like he forgot who he was dealing with. Charlotte was pretty good at letting things slide off of her back. She credited it to years of having to suck it up a lot at work. 

“Hey! Glad to see you rested and ready! We are going on a little trip.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and folded his arms, “By ‘we,’ you mean…?”

“You, Max and myself… Unless, you aren’t up for a trip? But, we’ve been making accommodations for you to come with…” She smiled awkwardly. The cutest thing he’d ever seen. Of course he was going wherever she wanted to go. Of. Course. He. Was.

“Umm… No, yes. I will. Where… Where are we going, may I ask?”

“You may!” She collected her basket of goods and began to head back towards the castle, “We are going to Jamaica. I want to launch a plan and Max wanted to be on site for the results. If I tell you about it and it goes wrong, I wouldn’t want you to be an accessory. Max and I have already prepared statements to prove your innocence.”

“What are you two going to do?” He wondered, a little bit frightened.

“Do ya really wanna know? You’ll feel obligated to stop me and well… I’m not gonna stop!” She was smiling, but she was also serious.

“I demand to know,” he said, firmly. If he was involved, even if he was aware that something might happen, he had a right to ask what that something was. 

“That’s fair.” She ran over her idea with him and she saw the processing of happening through his facial expressions.

“The probability of it going well is high enough that I’m not going to try to stop you. But, the possibilities of how horribly it can go if it goes wrong are terrifying.”

“I considered them all, with the help of supercomputers and personally hired androids,” she said. That had been her first little experimentation with the idea - building and buying androids and allowing them to control themselves. She even paid them for all of their labor and gave them free upgrades whenever necessary, sometimes whenever desired. All of her castle staff and many of her lab employees were currently androids in that experiment. She got input from each and every one of them as to the way to do this with the least amount of foreseeable carnage.

“Hey, Bionic Boy! My sister thinks you’re cute!” Max said, approaching with a hug collapsible case.

“Awwww,” Chase said, flattered.

“She’s 15,” Max added.

“Awwww,” Chase said, again, in a different, and slightly disgusted way. Why would he format the announcement that way? “By the way, THANKS for manipulating my sleeping body for clout!”

“Thank YOU. That’s my most popular photo. It’s getting more attention than that one of Charlotte…” His voice trailed off, and he clasped his hands together, “You ready for Jamaica?”

“For the world as we know it to change and for the three of us to very possibly wind up in Thunder Max Prison?” Chase asked, smiling. The smile was sarcastic.

“Obviously. What else would I be referring to. It’s literally the only trip to Jamaica that the three of us have ever discussed.”

“We’ve just met.”

“Further reason that that’s EXACTLY the “For Jamaica” that I’m asking about!”

“I’m ready,” Chase said, sure that Max was able to keep this bit going without his answer. 

“So, you’re all packed up and loaded up? All we gotta do is finish what we’re doing an jump in the jet?” Max asked. Chase sighed, rolled his eyes and went to do these things, that he realized now were the only reason Max asked him if he was ready. “Thanks, Buddy!” Max cheered as he walked away. Whenever he was a little ways away, Max wondered, “You think that he’ll be able to handle this type of rebellious act against the Dom?”

“I think that he believes in me a little more than he believes in him… God, this better not fail. I don’t know how to handle letting him down.”

“You’re not worried about letting me down?” Max asked.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” she confessed with a shrug. He just stared at her, wanting to argue with that idea, but it was true, and she should say it. He smiled and shook his head. He had more to pack.

.

IF this went well, those android allies would be able to assist in one of the most important stages of her plans… That is if plans didn’t change by the time things began progressing. Max and Chase would have input along the way and she presumed, make her plans even better as time went on. Currently, they were bickering. 

One part of her liked that they weren’t fake getting along for her benefit. The other was just waiting for them to kiss. This back and forth definitely had some amount of sexual or romantic tension involved, whether it was one-sided or from them both, they got entirely too close to each other’s faces when they became heated for her to just IGNORE that this could lead to something that she’d love to see. She chuckled to herself about this image. They glanced at her and she shrugged her shoulders and said, “I’m gonna be glad when you two get over yourselves and into each other.”

Chase looked confused, while Max rolled his eyes. They stopped bickering for a moment, but eventually started again, whispering it, like that was going to keep Charlotte from realizing that this was taking place. She was typing on her laptop and enjoying a mug of tea that she made from her own grown and harvested plants. She wore a knowing smirk about her accomplices and whenever they got quiet, wondered, “What are you guys gonna be working on in the meantime? Anything that I might be able to dabble in on the side?”

Chase said, “I’m thinking about dedicating some time to creating creatures for my video game.”

“Video game?” Max repeated, getting far too excited about it, then playing it off.

“Chase has been working on what I think will be the most ingenious, interactive, role play video game ever created. He’s literally putting like EVERYTHING into it. I’ve never known of any game to be as inclusive of the types of people that there are in the world,” she said and set her empty mug down. “I’ve helped a little, but his mind is greater.” She smiled at Chase and he blushed. 

No sooner than she liked a comment on Max’s post, did Max shout out, “Allison!” He stared at Chase suspiciously, shook his head and said, “Mmm mmm. Uh uh. Nah uh!”

“I think so,” Charlotte said. 

Chase looked between the both of them. “I’m lost.”

“Max just came to the realization that you remind him of somebody that he used to know pretty well,” Charlotte said.

“No. I actually did not,” Max said looking at the comment: First you clique up with my #1 Shero, and NOW, you’re just… AROUND CHASE DAVENPORT??? Literally my favorite protector of the world and champion for the environment! Your life must be so charmed.

“Well, if you didn’t, I’m just gonna say it. Petite brunette with bright and kind blue eyes who loves the planet, has a vehement code of ethics, is competitive, smart, brave, and honest…”

“My God, Charlotte, you met her once!” Max complained.

“I met her once, but I’ve gotten to know her through your anecdotes!”

He groaned, “She’s asking if she’ll get to meet him too, some day. I regret introducing her to YOU! Always messaging or commenting whenever she sees us hanging out. Like... You have time now? Oh, okay!” 

“Can I see?” Chase asked. 

Charlotte clicked on Allison’s profile and he nodded, “I love all these badges on her page. She must be a hardcore environmentalist.” She nodded. “Yeah, well Max thought you reminded him of someone, and I didn’t want to say it, but since he said it, I’m free to speak.”

“I mean, I don’t know how I feel about the classification of petite brunette, but she seems great. What’s the problem? You’re friends, she’s on your friend list…” He said in Max’s direction.

Avoiding the question, Max said, “You’re on my friend list too. That means nothing.”

“I never approved of that,” Chase said. 

“I know. I had to hack into your account to accept the request,” Max said, rolling his eyes and replying to Allison: You’ll be happy to know that he reminds me of you.

“WHY? Why would you do that?” Chase wondered, somewhere in the background of Max’s thoughts while he love reacted the sad face that Allison responded with. She knew that Max didn’t think the world of her, even though they were cordial, because sometimes, he wondered how she was, and also... He liked the idea of helping her out when she needed it, here and there... He was over her, but she was always gonna be his first love and social media made it too easy to keep up with people, even after they’ve become strangers.

“Because Charlotte’s fan base stalks every single interaction of all of her social media. We’re both with her right now and I don’t feel like the hoard of questions, theories and think pieces it’ll produce in the event that they notice that her guests are not friends,” Max said, replying to Allison: Yep, just like that. A PAIN. 

Exasperated, Chase sat down next to Charlotte and asked, “May I please have some of your rosehips and cinnamon tea?” She smiled and offered him the thermos and her mug. He poured some and smelled it, “Is there nettle in here?”

“Mmm hmm. And lavender honey for sweetening. It’s a manifestation tea that I found online, just FYI.”

“I don’t believe in any of that, so I’m fine either way,” Chase reminded her. He took a sip and nodded, “Mmmm… It’s good, that much is true.” After a few more sips, he wondered, “So… what’s the situation with this Allison?” They looked at Max, who had curled up with his phone, messaging with Allison, oblivious to them at the moment. “Or, is it personal? Could I guess? Is she a former lover?” He asked. Charlotte tried to put on her poker face, but she was as bad as that as she was at lying, so Chase could tell that he was right, even though she technically didn’t tell him Max’s personal business. “I remind him of his ex???” He said.

“I mean, in superficial ways, nothing fundamental or concrete,” she said. “It’s more like… parallels than, say, matching counterparts. But, enough about that. Let’s talk about your game.”

“Well, my next avenue is working out all of the creatures that users can create hybrids out of. But… on a more important note - this plot…” She made a face. “I’m not having second thoughts! I’m just curious. Why Jamaica?”

She sat up and began to speak from the heart, “As you know, my family is from Jamaica. I still have relatives there, including one of  my grandmothers. Android production has drastically changed the atmosphere in Jamaica. They are used in service capacity and have taken away jobs from islanders, who already a lot of the time are in less than ideal economic status and situations. The Islands have become booming tourist areas and who benefits the most from the usage of Jamaican goods? Tourists who can afford visiting, and companies who can afford to produce machines for slave labor. Meanwhile, the bad parts of Jamaica get worse as the broke people get poorer, and they run out of options beyond crime and schemes. To the point that these entitled people like your dad and his customer base get to be richer and bleed the place for everything good, as well as create a negative outlook of the actual citizens, calling them untrustworthy and warning visitors to avoid them when necessary. Even if my family wasn’t from there, isn’t that terrible? Isn’t it messed up that the so-called heroes and revolutionary men are able to do such a thing to these people’s livelihoods and environments and get richer off of their hardship?”

He nodded his head, not breaking eye contact with her. This was the most important thing that he had been told in a long time. We’re supposed to be heroes. Destroying people’s lives for gain is not heroic and there really is no need to treat anyone this way.

“That’s why Jamaica is first.”

.

The three of them walked into Charlotte’s Jamaican property and set their things down. She worked out of this place, but usually lodged elsewhere whenever she came. Buying small houses for people and trying to give them work and resources just wasn;t possible for her to do for a whole island where a lot of powerful people owned a lot of property and space. This was the best thing that she could think of to do to help Jamaica’s poorest and the declining economic situation that was making it’s people downtrodden. 

Max and Chase were both looking at her as she typed in a code onto her arm, and whenever she finished, she nodded her head once and pulled down her sleeve. “This will be good. I know it will.” It wasn’t often that she doubted herself, but sometimes, she remembered the inner voices of her friends, ignoring her plans or discrediting her advice. Sometimes, she let it be her inner voice. This was one of those times. She was nervous. If she was wrong, she could wreck the island, be labelled a terrorist, have Davenport blacklist her and probably sure her for all she was now worth, AND, she had brought Max and Chase into this thing with her. She could hear Henry and Jasper now, saying her name sternly, with disdain, judging her, even though they hadn’t done such things in years… CHARLOTTE. Yeah, CHARLOTTE. 

She hated the way it sounded in her mind, because she couldn’t remember if they ever actually spoke so harshly to her, or if she made them sound worse in her mind, both things were unsettling, especially when she was already timid. “Charlotte?” She heard Max and Chase both repeat. They had been calling her while her mind was running in circles. She looked up and they each reached for her hand, but they reached for the same hand and the three of them wound up in this awkward but still comfortable three way hand hold. The guys rolled their eyes at each other, but neither let go of her hand and they didn’t fight over it. They both knew her enough to know her face meant she needed a show of support. And they both cared enough to give it to her.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Camping

Summary:  When Mary catches word that Tom had never been camping it was decided that she had to fix that. What could go wrong?

Rated: T

Warnings: None

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x ofc

AN: This is for @forever-rogue‘s Halloween challenge using prompts:  72. “You’re beautiful. uh, u-um i mean the weather. It’s beautiful. Not that you’re not beautiful, because you are. I’m just gonna shut up.” 73. “I thought you said you knew how to start a fire!” “I said I could probably figure it out. ”76. “You have bits of leaves all over in your hair! Let me help you.”

Camping

Mary was a simple stage hand in New York City. It was a stressful job that didn’t pay enough yet she wouldn’t trade it for the world. It allowed her to experience life behind the scenes of plays, musicals and performances. It was something she could only dream of seeing if not for her job.  

While she loved theater and everything about it, she was still attending classes at night to become a lawyer. She was in a constant state of exhaustion but still found that it was worth it. She got to meet some amazing people with more talent in their little finger than she felt she had in her whole body.  But that was alright, her skills were elsewhere.  

It didn’t surprise her when word passed in whispers that Betrayal would be making a run through Broadway. It was a good play, one of her favorites and it was exciting to have the chance to be a part of the production. It was true, she'd only be behind the scenes. It surprised her that they would be doing a run so soon after the play wrapped up in London but she didn’t think anything of it.  

That was until the whispers morphed into the same actors as the London run coming to New York to act, to do the play here. Mary was a fan of all three, if she was honest. Meeting them was something she had never expected, never dreamed of and now she was working with them. And that was as much of a dream as she had wanted it to be.  

It wasn’t like working with other big name actors. No, it took little time before it felt like working with a group of friends as each eased into the company of the other. It was surreal and yet she loved every single moment of it.  

~~~~~<3

Mary had surprised herself by growing close to the cast over the first few weeks. Autumn was quick approaching and she was sad to see summer go. That was the topic of their pre-show dinner a few nights ago and Tom had let it slip that he’d never been camping.  

She wasn’t one to let something like that stand and so they made arrangements to for her to take Tom camping. Thanks to the magic of online shopping and a few days to prepare, they were able to gather everything they needed. They were able to buy tents, sleeping bags and everything else without putting too much strain on his already packed schedule.  

The day in question arrived way sooner than Mary could mentally prepare herself for. But it was too late to back out now. She parked in a rented large black SUV with the back packed full of supplies near the back door to the theater. She had hot dogs, she had chicken, she had vegetables, she had bread and eggs and jam. Mary had everything she could think so and more.  

The rear passenger door opened and Bobby was rather unceremoniously plopped on the blanket she set on the seat for him. He looked at me with his big brown eyes and floppy ears as if she somehow could make the blanket into a proper throne.  

“You’re spoiled, you know that right?” Mary asked the rather adorable mass of brown fur and personality. He offered a soft ‘woof’ in response.  

“Darling, I’m free. Let’s make our getaway.” Plastered across Tom's face was a wide grin.  

“Let’s hurry, before your adoring fans spot you and you’re trapped forever signing things.” Mary laughed as she pulled onto the road and made the drive to the campground.  

~~~~~<3

The campground was out of the way and little known. With the cooling temperatures paired with it being the middle of the week kept many people away. They had the place almost completely to themselves. She parked at a secluded spot and stepped outside, it felt amazing to be so isolated.  

Living and working in the big city- the feeling of isolation was a rare thing and when Mary could get away, she savored the feeling. Stretching, her back popped in a way that sounded rather like popcorn when she gave it a little twist. Tom was making himself busy, unloading the back until it was empty.

“I’ll help you with your tent after I get mine up.” Mary slung one of the two tent bags over her shoulder with the intention of finding a smoothish place to set it.  

“I’ll do mine. There’s no need.” Tom’s voice came from behind her, his own tent slung over his shoulder.  

“You want it somewhere generally flat. Close to the fire pit is good but you don’t want it too close unless you wont to light it on fire.”

“Alright.” He nodded and set to work picking a spot and unpacking the tent.  

Mary ignored him as she worked on her own tent. It was a simple enough process. Put the pipes together, run them through the loops. It took time and was tedious enough but that was the worst of it. Off to the side, there was a sound that she tried to tell herself wasn’t what she thought it was.  

“Bloody hell.” The words were grumbled and heavy with annoyance.  

“What happened?” She regretted turning to look as soon as she saw. Tom managed to rip a massive hole through the side of the tent.  

“How did you manage- never mind.” She didn’t want to know. “Let me see it.”

There was a massive rip. When she turned it to get a better look, Mary discovered that there as a second rip. Both the side of the tent and the bottom were now blessed and holly.

“I can just sleep in the ca-”  

“Don’t you even.” She snapped. “The other tent is big enough. We’ll make do.”  

“Oh, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-”

“It’s fine.”

She wouldn’t hear any argument from him so Tom stopped trying after a bit. Bobby was careful to keep close and well mannered enough. Tom still didn’t untie his long leash from the tree. While she spread sleeping bags out inside the tent, Tom milled about the camp, setting up folding chairs and pulling the cooler close.  

“Wanna get the fire going?” Mary called out from where she was, half inside the tent.  

“Sure.” Tom answered from where he stood next to the fire pit. His eyes focused on her as worked, admiring the view.  

“You do know how to start a fire, right?”

“Sure, sure.” He didn’t sound all that convincing. “I can probably figure it out.” Tom added under his breath as he broke open the wrapped bundles of wood.  

“What was that?” Mary called from inside the tent.

“Nothing, Darling.”  

She was on her hands and knees, spreading sleeping bags, blankets and battery lanterns. She arranged the pillows  at the head of the tent. It was then that she realized that she should have situated her feet be by Tom’s head but she wasn’t going to change things now.  

Tom set to work stacking wood in what looked like a decent formation and shoved some sticks and twigs under. Grabbing the long tipped barbecue lighter, he pulled the trigger, summoning the flame. Holding it under the sticks, he watched as one after another caught fire and rather quickly burnt out.  

“I thought you said you knew how to start a fire?” Mary asked, having crawled out of the tent and stood watching the last two twigs fail at catching the larger stack.  

“I said I could probably figure it out.” Tom grumbled and she could almost not make out the words.

~~~~~<3

They spent the next hour trampling through the woods. It was somewhat awkward at first, being so alone together but they soon found their rhythm. Mary showed Tom the types of moss she needed. It was one that would burn fast and hot. While they hunted through the undergrowth, they threw handfuls of leaves at each other.  

She had to admit, the sight of a handsome Brit picking through the forest, getting dirt and leaves on his neat dark jeans and navy sweater was something she didn’t think she would ever see. But he looked good out here, with the leaves starting to turn and the blue sky above him.  

When we finally returned to the camp site, we were well relaxed and full of smiles. Even Bobby had his fair share of forest leafs and dirt in his fur. He didn’t seem to mind however, he looked beyond pleased with himself. Bobby had gotten to chase bugs and sticks to his heart content.  

Mary demanded Tom kneel next to her as she deconstructed his failed pile of wood though he needed no urging. It was something she had found unique and unexpected to him. Tom was always eager to learn and it didn’t seem to matter to him what the topic was.  

He watched with interest as she balled up the moss around a center about the size of her fist filled with brittle broken twigs. Without fear of splinter, Mary grabbed portions of the log where the wood was splintering off and yanked them free. Each bit was thin and narrow. She crossed pushed those through the moss ball and crossed more over top along with ticker twigs and sticks- much to Bobby’s dismay.  

With a nod from Mary, Tom took the lighter and set flame to the ball of moss. It caught right away and spread. The ball was packed tightly but still burned through fast enough, fire catching the sticks inside and poked through. Unlike when Tom had attempted the first time, the fire didn’t wink out of existence. Some twigs and sticks did burn out before they could catch. Others held a hearty flame that spread to other sticks and slivers of wood.

When the moss had finished burning out and the flame remained, Mary set the smallest of the logs on the pile, leaning one end up. Tom was quick with another in his hand.

“Don’t you dare.” Mary hissed, though a smile remained on her face.  

“No?”

“Not yet. Let this one catch first.”  

They sat around the small fire. Once fire was steady and eating the underside of the first log, she directed Tom to use the small chunk in his hand to slide it over, toward the side of the pile before setting his down. The end of his log was resting atop the first one and again, he learned how important it was to wait as the fire caught and began eating the second log.  

Soon the fire was strong enough for a third and a forth, all leaning against each other and all placed in a way Mary had explained would leave them with a wide bed of coals.

Leaning back on her heels, Mary watched the fire. The sun was starting to set and the sky hadn’t yet really begin to change. There was a slight chill in the air but Mary was always a fan of a campfire.

She could feel Tom’s eyes on her and for a while, she pointedly ignored him. Finally, she snapped, “What?”

“You have bits of leaves all over in your hair!” Tom laughed, holding his hands up in defense. “Let me help you.”  

Tom’s long fingers delicately picked out leaf bits and small twigs. With the amount of care he used, she could almost forget that he was the reason for them in the first place.  

Reaching up, she pulled a nearly complete leaf out from one of the more wild curls of his hair. If he was cleaning her up, it was only fair she did him the same favor. She became suddenly aware of how close they were. She’d hardly touched Tom before, aside from a handshake when they had first been introduced and his warm hugs that he would offer everyone he knew.  

“So far, I think I like this camping thing.” Tom had a smile on his face but his voice was thick, heavy and she watched as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.  

“We’ve hardly started.” She laughed and the spell shattered.  

~~~~~<3

Dinner was hot dogs over the fire as the sun set. It was far more romantic than it had any right being. It was simply a camping trip between two friends and coworkers who happened to be of opposite genders and with only one tent. Just because it looked like the perfect set up for a romcom didn’t mean it was one, right?

The fire, large and hot, managed to keep the bugs away from the intimidate area. Still, one didn’t have to go far at all to become a snack for the most annoying of the bugs. Both Mary and Tom however were content to stay fireside and trade stories of youths spent almost half a world apart.  

The moon climbed high as their laughter spilled out over the trees. Stars twinkled and crickets chirped. Hardly more than a chill clung to the air. The slightest of breezes rustled leafs high in the tree tops as Tom fell silent with a thoughtful look on his face.  

“What is it?” Mary tentatively asked, pulling a marshmallow tipped stick from the fire and blowing it out.

“You’re beautiful.” Be blurted out after a moment of consideration. The firelight managed to hide the blush that climbed his cheeks as words began to spill from him uncontrolled. “Uh, u-um I mean- the weather. It’s beautiful.” There was another moment of thought as Mary watched the wheels turning behind his eyes.  

“Tom?”

“Not that you’re not beautiful, because you are.” Again, the words came rushed and blurted. He looked surprised to have said them. Looking away from her for a moment, he carded his fingers through his ever growing curls before declaring, “I’m just gonna shut up.”

“Tom?” She again asked and his eyes reluctantly met hers.  

“Mary.” Her name sounded like it carried so much more meaning.

Hesitantly, carefully, his long fingers reached out for her and brushed her own. Tom leaned forward, slowly closing the gap between their folding camp chairs. Mary was moving just as slowly. Neither had really thought about it until that moment but it felt like it was something that was meant to be, that should have always been. In that exact moment it felt like something would always be.  

His lips brushed hers. She could feel the scratch of his neatly trimmed beard against her skin. Warm breath fanned over her and she was sure hers was doing the same. Each was testing, waiting to see if the other would pull back.  

When the tension became too much, it was Mary that again closed the short distance. Her lips were soft against his. Tom’s hand reached out as he leaned further over to rest against her. She sighed into his kiss and he very much felt like the luckiest man in the world in that exact moment.  

Well, until he was rather unlucky.  

The chair tilted and before he had a chance to catch it, down he crashed in the space between the chairs. Thanks to involuntary reflexes and the and already on her cheek, Tom reached down to brace himself with her unfortunately equally flimsy chair, causing her to tip as well.  

As Mary crashed down atop him, together they laughed as dirt and leaves once again covered them. It wasn’t the way one expected to realize she had fallen for the handsome Brit but Mary couldn’t imagine realizing she had fallen in love any other way. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @toozmanykids, @alexakeyloveloki, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @bambamwolf87, @j-u-s-t-4, @wegingerangelica, @tinchentitri, @missaphrodite23, @nonsensicalobsessions, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @theheartofpenelope, @myoxisbroken

[witharsenicsauce]

(XCOM) Chosen Stories From the War #1: And Thus, They Brought Her Back

When Kon-Mai Mordenna took her katana in her hands and cut herself open, she did not expect to awaken. Nevertheless, she opened her eyes.

She also hadn’t expected to awaken with a plethora of XCOM officials around her while she stared helplessly up at them. They swarmed her like bees and she tried to put her hands up to her face to defend herself.

Someone took her hands and pressed them down again. She wrenched away from their grasp and tried to push away this unseen assailant. She was held down again, and this time a voice said “No no, stay still.”

Kon-Mai would not stay still, and she certainly would not take orders from her kidnappers. She tried to roll herself over but found her muscles would not move. With a sinking feeling she suddenly realized how heavy her body felt, as though it was made of lead. When one of the figures moved away, she craned her neck up and looked down at herself.

Blood. So much blood, all over the white gurney she lay on, staining it crimson. Her breastplate was split in two, and she saw the edges of her organ tissue poking through the gash in her stomach.

Someone pushed her down again, and Kon-Mai summoned all her strength and sat up, gasping with the pain of it. She was shaking and though she had gotten this far, she could no longer move any of her limbs, not even to collapse back onto the cot. The only sounds she could mutter were light whimpers, and the words “Let me die.”

Someone took her now limp arm, and she felt a pinch against the skin, looked down and saw a tube being taped against the vein, a sharp needle poking into her pale skin. They were trying to push her back down but she was frozen sitting up. Her muscles were not letting up anytime soon.

In the corner of her eye, Kon-Mai saw white. At first she figured this was the light of death coming for her until it moved, migrating into the center of her vision, and she saw it was a woman. Her ivory hair and clothes outlined her, and to Kon-Mai, she looked like the angels she’d heard stories of. 

She knew this woman. She’d known her for a long time, almost five years now, since she began this chase. In her raspy, quiet voice, she growled “Commander.”

The woman smiled softly, and Kon-Mai would have felt comforted if it was literally anyone else. She trembled and tried to scoot backward as the Commander approached her, but alas her body was still frozen with shock and pain.

Kon-Mai whimpered in protest as the Commander reached out toward her. She flinched as she laid a hand on her shoulder, but felt her body soon unknot itself, the stabbing pain beginning to ebb away. The Commander gently lowered Kon-Mai back onto the gurney, and the Chosen woman relaxed finally.

“Morphine is finally kicking in.” Someone to her right said, and the Commander chuckled.

“Morphine, right.” Kon-Mai felt the Commander reach behind her head, where they both knew her chip rested at the base of her skull. The Commander’s slim fingers curled round it but Kon-Mai found it difficult to even care, so relaxed she was.

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” The Commander pinched the chip and tugged. Kon-Mai shrieked at the snap of pain, but within the same second, the darkness swallowed her.

.

.

When Kon-Mai opened her eyes for the second time, the world was still and dark, and for a moment she was sure she was dead, until she blinked a few times. The low light in the room slowly forced her eyes to adjust and she looked around, barely moving her head, which felt like it was on the verge of splitting. As consciousness slowly returned to her, she took note of how incredibly sore she was. She moved her arm and heard a gasp to her left.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A light came on and Kon-Mai squinted at the change. “Sorry, I wanted to keep it off so as not disturb you, but it’s impossible to do this in the dark.”

“What are you doing to me?” Kon-Mai intended to growl, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

A face moved into her field of view: A dark-skinned human female with freckles on her cheeks and blinding green eyes. She smiled as she saw Kon-Mai react in shock. “Can you still see?”

“What?”

“Tygan was worried the chip removal might have caused some damage to your visual cortex. The Commander did her best to mitigate it…” The human took a metal object and attached a piece of cylindrical plastic to the end, turning on a light. “Open your eyes wide for me.”

Kon-Mai in fact closed her eyes, mostly to shield them from the bright light tool the girl was pointing in her face.

“Please?”

“No. Release me. I am no science experiment for you to toy with!”

“I just want to check your pupil dilation. It’ll take two seconds, maybe three. Tops.”

“And what of it? You wouldn’t understand what you see anyway.”

“Wanna bet?”

“No, as you shall lose.” But Kon-Mai felt her eyelids loosen, as though keeping them closed was too strenuous.

The girl smiled. “Thank you.” She shone her tool into the pupil of Kon-Mai’s eyeball and the Chosen blinked again, hissing.

“Looks normal. Thank you.” She turned off the tool. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Of course I do.” Kon-Mai began to push herself up into a sitting position. “I am going to leave now, if that will be all.”

“Wait-no, no, no, you’re in no shape...you just got out of major surgery!”

“I have had worse.” Kon-Mai bit back the stabbing pain she felt in her stomach and slid her legs over the side of the cot. Her armor was gone, replaced by a short cloth gown that was an ugly, slate grey color.

“You’ve had worse, but you also had your...thing. The coffin.” The girl grabbed at Kon-Mai's arm. “You don’t have that here!”

“I will heal.” She slid off the bed and stood, balancing on unsteady legs, for just a moment. Then her knees buckled and she toppled to the floor. Or she would have, had the human not caught her.

“I told you.” The human sat her back on the bed. “God, you’re heavy. You were in really bad shape when we got you, and you will be for a while. I’m here to help you, now get back in bed.”

Kon-Mai was silent. Instead of resisting, this time she did as the little human asked, but as she did, she peeled back the grown from around her waist and looked at the site of the wound.

“...What happened?” She whimpered. The wound was swollen and red, the edges puffy and jagged. It was stapled in some areas, sewn haphazardly and double-knotted in others. A thin layer of green pus seeped from it. Kon-Mai felt ill.

The human smiled. “Oh wow, it’s healing great!”

Kon-Mai growled at her.

“It is, actually. I know it looks bad but all this…” She pulled Kon-Mai’s nightgown back down. “It means the wound is healing.”

“I don’t understand.” Kon-Mai spat. “That wound was fatal. I was meant to die there.”

The girl was silent, her lips pursed. “The Commander ordered we save you.”

The Commander? “Why?”

“I don’t know. All I know is when the Commander tells you to do something, you do it. And we did it.” She smiled proudly. “When we picked you up you weren’t responsive but you had a pulse, and that was enough for us. You flatlined twice on the ride to the Avenger. We brought you back.”

Kon-Mai looked around the room. “The people who took me. There were many. What did they do?”

“You were awake for that? I figured you wouldn’t remember.” She sat on the end of Kon-Mai’s bed. “We were transporting you from the garage to the med bay and we lost your heartbeat. Luckily there’s a defibrillator station in every room of the ship.”

“And thus...you brought me back.”

“And thus we brought you back.” The girl smiled. “I’ve been talking a lot, sorry. I should let you rest.”

“No. Continue with what you were doing.” Kon-Mai laid back and closed her eyes.

“I was just refilling your IV drip.” The girl stood and began to fuss with something to her left.

“Why?”

“Well you lost a lot of blood, so we’re giving you fluids to-”

“No.” Kon-Mai opened her eyes and looked at the girl again. “Why are you doing this?”

“Tygan told me to.” She looked over and stretched out her hand. “I’m going to be your assigned nurse while you recover, actually. My name’s Malinalli.”

“...That’s an odd name.” Kon-Mai took Malinalli’s hand and gave it a single, weak squeeze.

“So is yours.” Malinalli winked.

.

.

.

Is this a good idea? I dunno.

But it’s a pet project of mine. Expect much, much more very soon.

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Ayato Sakamaki (Story 13)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! I’m an amateur translator, but I hope you do enjoy it anyway!♡

Monologue

When I was resting in an abandoned house, I heard footsteps chasing us from outside.

According to Reiji-san’s guess, if we could destroy the core part of this world ...

But before discussing more about it, the enemy was approaching us.

It was considered as dangerous to stay in the abandoned house, that’s why we decided to intercept them in the woods.

Place: Outside — Forest

Ayato: There’s no sign of anyone yet

Yui: True

(We’re hiding in the bushes and we’re waiting for the enemies to approach)

(I’m very nervous because I don’t know when the other vampires will appear)

*Ayato hugs Yui*

Ayato: Don’t tell me you’re getting worried again? Everything will be okay as long as you stay with me.

Yui: ... Yes, that’s right. Thank you for holding me like that again.

Ayato: Yes. I’ll hold you more firmly so you can’t leave me anymore.

Yui: Ah, uhm, but stop whispering in my ear... ! It’s kind of embarrassing...

Ayato: Why should this be embarrassing? We’ve been doing this for awhile now, don’t tell me you’re getting aroused by it?

You never said anything when I do it in bed, so I thought you got used to it.

Yui: Huh! Why are you bringing this up now!?

Ayato: I’m highly sorry. Next time I’ll make any noise and say any word you want me to do.

Laito: Wait a second. Did you forget we can hear you?

Ayato: I didn’t. So stop interrupting us Laito.

Laito: This only seems to be fun for the two of you. Ayato stop making me jealous.

Kanato: Why can’t you just shut up for a second. If we’re going to be found by the enemy it’s your fault.

Ayato: I understand. I’ll try and keep my voice down from now on.

Yui: We all have to be quiet... !

*footsteps approach*

??: — There’s no point in hiding anymore. I already heard you talking with each other

Ayato: ...Ngh

Yui: (That voice... !)

Yui: (Ruki-kun!)

Ruki: What are you thinking about? There’s no need in hiding anymore so come out

Ayato: He really found us. After all this plan got weird.

Yui: Yes, but that’s okay! We did use the strategy Reiji-san considered... !

*flashback*

Laito: So after all we’re going to run away? I don’t know the number of opponents, but we may can’t get away and get caught.

Reiji: Yes, that’s true. You probably wouldn’t get away anymore.

So I considered a possible strategy. Please listen carefully.

Ayato: Hm, strategy? What’s it about?

Reiji: Even if we’re challenged against multiple opponents from the front and the winning rate is low.

Please check the number of people when you see the enemy.

If the number seems to be higher than you, keep hiding as long as possible and leave the place.

Make sure to not leave any member of our family alone.

If there are probably more opponents, I and Shu will distract the opponents first, and everyone could escape from multiple directions.

Ayato: Why are we going to fighting in such small numbers?

Shu: It’s simple, if it’s an advantageous number, it’s better to disable them first from and let everyone else escape while it.

Reiji: Yes, that’s correct. But I’m sure the enemy won’t give up easily either.

If it seems to be a trick, we might get caught up early, and our plan would fall apart before we reached anything.

If everyone survives, we’ll meet at the church. Do you know where it is?

Laito: Okay so we all will meet at the church again

Kanato: Don’t tell me we need to run there. I don’t wanna be fully exhausted.

Subaru: I’m sure we’re all getting through it. I’ll lend you my hand if they need help.

Kanato: Thank you but, I don’t want to touch your filthy hand.

Reiji: There’s one more thing. We know the enemies goal is to get you, Eve.

Yui: You’re talking about me?

Reiji: If the other guys memories haven’t changed, they should still aim for you to become the king.

So while we‘re fighting, Ayato will take you and you two will head as first people to the church.

Ayato: What? You’re just telling me to run away with her? Stop fooling around, I’ll fight too.

I need to pay my revenge back to them. I can’t miss this chance, I’ll never get that close again.

Reiji: Stop that now. This is our strategy...

Shu: Fine. Seems like we don’t have time anymore either.

Yui: Shu-san...

Shu: Do whatever you want. Your greed is the first priority over what you have to do now.

Ayato: ...

Shu: As a result, you might even lose the most precious thing to you. Can you still do that?

Ayato: ... That is...

Shu: Ayato. Think about it. Is this the best time to beat your opponent?

Ayato: I don’t understand you. Isn’t it only natural that I want to defeat them?

Shu: It is. Whatever you do, you should think if it works out correctly. Or, you might regret it later.

Ayato: Head to the church, protect her, defeat them...

Shu: That’s right.

Think about what you want to do and this woman, who is the most important for you.

Ayato: ...

Reiji: ... Are you done discussing? We got no time. We’ll leave this abandoned house soon.

Ayato, there shouldn’t be a complaint according to my strategy.

Ayato: ...Yes

Yui: Ayato-kun...

*end flashback*

Yui: (After that, Ayato-kun was acting like nothing happened)

(What did he really think?)

Ruki: You’re still not coming out? If that’s so, I’ll come closer

Yui: (T-That’s bad! We’re getting discovered like that... !)

Shu: Hey, look here.

Reiji: Seems like we discovered something.

Yui: (Shu-san! Reiji-san! Good. From here, it works according to the strategy ...)

Ruki: — You guys... scarlet members. What are you doing here?

Reiji: We could ask you the same about what you’re doing here. I assume you‘re looking for Eve, aren’t you?

Ruki: ...Oh? How did you know I’m looking for Eve?

Reiji: It’s only natural that this would be on the enemies mind. We all aren’t thinking different at this point at least .

Ruki: Certainly, Eve who was at my house seemed to be brought out by Ayato. That’s what I noticed earlier.

That’s why I’m searching this way...

Reiji: ...

Ruki: What did you say before? It’s kinda strange that you knew about what happened earlier.

Because Eve was living in my mansion until now, how did you know i‘m searching for her? What are you hiding?

Reiji: ...Ngh...

Ayato: Hey, what are you doing Reiji!? Is he okay?

Yui: Ah Ruki-kun... ! He’s way too sharp!

Ruki: That was nasty, scarlets eldest son. You really made such a mistake, so you really got Eve in your hands?

Shu: Reiji, it doesn’t matter even if we continue lying. He’s alone and we’re two.

Reiji: Yes, that’s true. Other than Ruki...

Shin: Hey brother. Can I finally come out?

Yui: (That's Shin from the Orange mansion. And there’s one more and another —)

Kanato: How long are you going to keep me waiting?

Reiji: ...Ngh—!

Ayato: What!?

Yui: Huh... !

Shu: What is that supposed to mean?

Yui: Why, Why... don’t tell me you’re with them!?

Because Kanato-kun was...

Kanato: ...Hehe...

Yui: (Wow, he’s laughing... that creepy and mysterious laugh)

Ayato: Don’t fuck with me. Why are you with those two... you aren’t the real Kanato are you?

Choices

1) — Weird from the beginning (white) ♡ ♡ ♡

2) — Think he was weird for awhile (black)

— Weird from the beginning ♡

Yui: That’s right, you aren’t the real Kanato-kun right? The atmosphere didn’t feel like the usual Kanato-kun from the very beginning.

(Is Ayato-kun also feeling this? As his third brother, they’ve been through so much together)

Ayato: Yes, that’s true. I’m thinking the same way, you’re not the original.

It would’ve better if you acted less like that to make it feel like you're Kanato.

— Think he was weird for awhile

Yui: I think he wasn‘t the one who was with me. Because I was with them for a long time, this Kanato-kun is a forgery...

(If that‘s true, it’s scary)

Ayato: ...No, I think it’s different. It's no wonder, the guy who just came is probably the real one.

Yui: (If that’s so. It may be something special because he’s the third brother of him)

end Choices

Kanato: Hehe. It seems like my playtime is already over.

Well, first of all, let's give them what they deserve.

Yui: Ah!

Ruki: ...Ugh... what’s that sudden...Ngh

Shin: ...Ngh... suddenly, sleepy... Agh

Kanato: What? What exactly are you two doing? Get on your feet now, we’re not sleeping here.

Reiji: What the hell...

Ayato: Shit! What’s going on? You, follow me! We’re getting away from here!

Yui: Ngh... !

Ayato: Hey Kanato! What are you doing? Why are you working with those two!?

Kanato: Stop calling me like that. It’s really unpleasant if you continue.

Yui: Are you sure this is the real Kanato-kun?

Kanato: What? How dare you questioning who I am.

It’s so rude to call me a fake. Can’t you see how cute I am?! Aren’t there any similarities at all!?

Seems like there’s no need to hide anymore.

*bright light*

Yui: (S-Such a bright light... ! What is— Ngh!)

Karl-Heinz: ... We finally meet again

Ayato: Father... !?

Reiji: Father... !

Shu: ... Father

Karl-Heinz: I’m glad I was allowed to see those very interesting things.

Ayato: So this is really all your doing!

Karl-Heinz: You realized that you were locked in this separate world and that’s when I got really worried.

So, I decided while he was sleeping to posses Kanato with my power.

Apparently, as I see the look on your face, it seems that you’ve never noticed it.

Yui: (So, he was replaced... ! If you look at it from that view, his behavior really got strange...)

(He was also able to watch all our movements like that—)

(I can’t believe... something like that really happened—)

Hey, everyone...

Subaru: Ngh—!

*Subaru faints*

Laito: ...Agh!

*Laito faints*

Kanato: ...Ugh

*Kanato faints*

Yui: (What’s wrong? Everyone looks so pained... They all look so pained!)

Ayato: Ngh... what’s wrong?

Hey! What are you doing! What have you done to them all!

Karl-Heinz: Calm down, Ayato. I didn’t do anything to them.

Apparently, just seeing me triggers their memories to return to normal

Yui: Everyone’s memories... ?

Karl-Heinz: This is at least what I think is happening to them. This is way too interesting

But is this more of an obstacle to experimentation. Let's say I’ll be leaving now.

Ayato: Wait! What kind of experiment!?

Was it really you who trapped us here!? Tell me already!

Karl-Heinz: Show me that you deserve to get out. Take Eve and be the one who deserves to be the king.

I’ll tell you everything one by one than. The magic of this world is gathered in the church.

If you go there, you’ll be able to escape from this world—

*Karl-Heinz disappears*

Yui: ...Ngh!

(Karl Heinz-sama disappeared—)

Karl-Heinz: I wonder if you’ll really escape... I’m looking forward to our next meeting.

Ayato: Hey! Don’t just disappear without persmission!!

Fuck! He’s doing what he wants... I can’t just trust what this guy said!

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: I won’t forgive him for what he did. All right, we’re going out of here!!

I won’t let him take away the one I love again!

Yui: That’s right! We are not someone's experimental tool. Let's escape!

Shu: Hey, what are you planing to do?

Ayato: What?

Shu: Apparently Ruki and Shin seem to be sleeping by magic.

This will also be the work of our father at that time.

Ayato: Ruki-kun...

I hope he’s going to remember, so they can continue their life at the Mukami household...

I remember that I thought he was my big brother, it still feels very strange.

Yui: (Yes, that’s right. Although they are temporary, they live as brothers, eat together, and met each other)

(It may not be possible to meet them again like this)

Ayato: Ruki and Shin, we should put them in the abandoned house we came from.

Let’s go over there, we shouldn’t get attacked by someone for a while.

Yui: Yeah. I think that's good! We can‘t just leave them here anyway.

Ayato: Well. Besides, there’s probably nothing what could surprise us anymore.

The place where the magical powers that our fucking father said is gather— we’re going to the church!

← Story 12

→ Story 14

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Friends can break your heart too pt. 2

Warnings: angst, swearing (enjoy!)

Word count: ~ 3.6k+

Part 1

Where was my fault in all this? All I did is love him with all my heart, but it went to waste. A part of me expected him to run after me the very instant I turned the first corner, slowing down my steps to give him a chance to catch up if he needed it.

Once I realized he wasn't coming, I felt swelling rage push tears even faster to fill my eyes. My vision blurred and chest heaved with the undeniable pressure building up so quickly I'm terrified it would burst. It's funny how people call it a broken heart, but I hurt all over. My brain is in shambles and my body aches like I've been hit by a train and the darkness growing inside is becoming too much to bear.

I remember calling an Uber, praying I'll keep my breakdown in, just a while longer...just until I'm behind closed doors and people with phones and annoying habits of filming everything they see can't get to me.

The last thing I need right now is someone posting a video of me that would go viral. I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I don't want him to see me cry.

Finally alone and inside my home, I find myself unable to shed a tear making it much worse. If you can't release the pain inside, the pain destroys you. It's one of my worst qualities, having few rare moments of release and bottling up everything else until I explode and take everything out in my vicinity.

Deciding not to dwell on it, I grab a bucket of ice cream from the fridge, DAIRY one and sit on my couch in silence and darkness, just getting that lactose in and smiling like a maniac. I've been sick and tired of their newfound dairy free diet and doing it as well to serve as a support system. I guess somewhere deep inside my tired, still firing neurons, eating a tub of dairy and sugar seems like vengeance of sorts.

This is how far I've fallen.

My phone keeps ringing, messages from James and Ethan coming through as I try my best to ignore them and stuff my face.

„Why are you not with them?! I'm losing my fucking shit here! Who is that girl frolicking with Gray and why aren't you answering?!“ James is freaking out, probably watching the awards on TV, worrying, and I'm not sure if it's justified or not.

I'm okay, aren't I? No one deals with these things normally, right?

„Y/N, I'm so sorry. I wish you stayed with me because I'm so bored. Call me back and let me know if you're okay? A text at least?“ Ethan called too and I know I bailed on him. I know he's basically the third wheel since Marina didn't come with him and Grayson's probably wrapped around that woman the entire time.

My dress is constricting my airways, shoes already kicked off my feet and I'm sure my make up is still spotless. I look like I walked out of a Disney movie and Grayson barely noticed me at all. I know I'm not usually the most good looking person out there. I'm aware that most people tend to completely overlook me, not notice I'm even around. I'm the girl no one sees, I don't light up the room when I walk in and people don't stand up to talk to me or go out of their way to make me feel wanted.

No one ever did that for me, but Ethan and Grayson did.

Maybe that's why I fell for him so hard? I craved the attention he gave me? I needed to feel wanted and like I mattered? Because he made me feel like that.

He did.

I never felt invisible around either of them.

I mattered.

Until I didn't.

„Step away from the ice cream!“ Ethan shouts and I snap my head up and to the right where I heard his voice come from, my heart pounding frantically and my mouth opening to let out a small shriek in fear.

„Why are you in my house?!“ I shout back, sitting properly and looking to my phone for the time.

„The awards are over.“ Ethan says in a 'duh' tone and I furrow my brows, rubbing my right temple when I see my ice cream all but melted. I must have dozed off in the inferno of my 'Reasons why I'm not good enough' special held in Grayson's honor.

„Oh.“ I mutter, hearing his footsteps approaching fast. He takes the ice cream from my hands, leaving it on the table in front of me while I stare blankly at my manicured nails and a golden butterfly ring on my right middle finger Ethan bought for my last birthday.

„Wanna talk about it, Princess?“ Ethan asks softly, siting beside me, his right arm pressed against my left one. It's a small couch and my dress is taking up the most of it.

„'Bout what?“ I look to him and swallow thickly, hoping my facade holds up.

„You being in love with my brother and him being undeserving of that.“ Ethan states and I cough violently, choking on my own spit.

„W-what?!“ My voice is high-pitched and my mouth is open like a fish gasping for air. I've believed my feelings were mine alone, hidden from the world and if they weren't...If Ethan knew of all people, did Grayson know?

Does he know?

„Oh, c'mon! It's not like you're being slick with all the starin' you do. I mean, I literally measured the time once I realized you do that and the longest has been ten minutes and twenty three seconds. You look at him like he walks on water!“ Ethan exclaims and I find my mind change speed and the panic overwhelming me like there's ice swimming inside my veins.

„I – uh, you're wrong.“ I try to rectify my past mistakes now, but it's in vain.

Ethan knows.

He knows.

„Am I? You're never speechless unless he's complimenting you. You have a permanent smile around him and I swear you turn into actual sunshine in his proximity. It's like you want to give him all the warmth and love and support this world has to offer. You also gravitate toward him like he's your moon. When he moves, you move. If you can be close to him, you are. Don't even get me started on the way you giggle at his stupid dad jokes or your encouragement of his nutcracker and plant obsession. I know you. You love him and...I'm sorry that you do.“ Ethan ends his rant by putting a hand over mine, making the speed chase inside my head stop and it's as if I'm crashing through the windshield with that gesture. Ethan putting a hand on mine like that meant something else. He's not a touchy feely guy, but he's here and he's holding my hand and it can only mean one thing.

He knows Gray doesn't feel the same way I do.

„So, he – uh, really doesn't love me then. Does he?“ My voice cracks, but I'm still too stubborn to cry. I'm strong, I don't cry for men.

„I can't say anything for sure because we never spoke about you in that way, but he's with Sara now and I don't know why he never mentioned her to you. I was under the impression he did.“ Ethan runs his thumb across my knuckles and I remember how Grayson did that before.

He'd always take my hand in his, no matter where we are and just hold it for hours. He'd run his thumb over each of my knuckles and intertwine our fingers, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss and looking back at him doing that on daily bases doesn't make me feel so insane for thinking he might have loved me too.

„He never said a thing about her. Not even hinted they met. And I really...I really thought he'd be here tonight, you know? Like, he'd come to at least apologize and bring me my favorite milkshake as a peace offering as we once promised to do whenever we fought. But he didn't and I hate that I'm a wreck about it all.“ I feel myself slipping down the emotional swirl-hole again, wondering how long will it take me to claw my way back again.

He didn't even bring the fucking milkshake.

Back when we first had a fight after becoming friends, Grayson bought me my favorite milkshake every day for a week and stood in front of my door until dark, leaving the shake whenever he left. And I'd drink it and leave the cup outside for him to find. I watched him smirk every time he found it empty through the peephole, realizing right then and there I wasn't really angry with him anymore, I just wanted to see that self-satisfied smile on his face whenever he saw I drank the milkshake. So, we made a pact. Whenever we fought in any way, the one who messed up will bring a milkshake the other one favors and you have to accept it and talk.

Guess he didn't find this ordeal milkshake worthy.

„I'm sorry to do this to you, but you have to face this. Grayson is – well, he's basically fucking Sara right now instead of being here and comforting you. He's not into you like that. Not as far as I know and I think he'd tell me, Y/N. I'm not trying to be cruel, I'm just trying to help you move on. Realize he's not all that and find a guy who treats you like a princess you are. Cause you fucking look like one even without wearing that dress.“ Ethan's words surprise me; shock me even. His breath seemed to stutter in his lungs before he let it go, the tension draining from his body. His breathing returned to normal and his lips parted, opening his mouth as if he could face the problem.

„Yeah. I did. I did love you for some time...it's how I know you're in love with Grayson. I watched you while you watched him and once I knew I had no way of winning you over, I did the only thing I could; I moved on. It was hard and messy and I still get in that head-space, but I never acted upon any of it. This is why I'm advising you to the same. Just, let him go.“ Ethan takes a deep breath, patiently awaiting for me to say anything.

I saw something flicker in his eyes that I never wanted to die. It's selfish, but right now, I crave his affection; the same he kept hidden from me for so long. I can't, but I want to. I want to kiss him and let whatever is left of my soul burn in hell. I find myself leaning forward, Ethan's eyes moving from my eyes to my lips and remaining there, just lingering.

„Such a bad idea.“ He says quietly and I can't help but agree with him. It's probably the worst idea I've ever had, but Grayson's fucking some other girl and I'm just trying to get through the night. I'm just trying to piece myself together.

But then I remember why I can't do this.

If Grayson ever did this to me, I'd be a hollow shell of a girl, unable to find someone that can give me the love I know I deserve. I can't ruin Ethan like that. I can't drag him in a mess that he just barely escaped from. He has Marina now and I'll be damned if I ruin it.

„I really want to kiss you right now. I do.“ I lick my lips and continue.

„But Marina...she's good for you and I'm not sure what I feel or what tomorrow will bring. It's not fair to you. I should know, not guess...especially when it’s you. You, one of my favorite people in this whole universe and any alternative ones that exist.“ I place my forehead on his lips, leaning on them for their warmth and keeping him quiet for a moment longer all the while ignoring how his hands on my waist feel inviting.

I'm just looking for a physical comfort, a rebound.

I can't make him one.

I won't.

„This is exactly what I'm saying. You're too good for him. For either of us.“ Ethan whispers against my forehead, pulling me into his chest and holding me.

And I hate myself for thinking about how Grayson never just holds me against him, but crushes me with his bear hugs until I'm fighting for air. He melts into me and always stands up just to make sure he can twirl us before collapsing on the floor, still holding me tightly enough to feel the beat of his heart against his rib cage.

It’s strange, frightening even, how you can go from someone being a complete stranger, to then being completely infatuated by them and wondering how it ever was that you were able to live without them, because you sure as hell couldn’t imagine being without them now. I know I'm still young, and most people would consider me to be foolish and naive, but it’s true when I say that I love him more than I could ever love myself. He’s my best friend and, as cheesy as it sounds, he’s my anchor. My one stability in this world filled with chaos. Grayson's always been my anchor and knowing I have to leave that is a big part of why tears slip down my cheeks as Ethan moves me to my bed, covers my body with a blanket, unaware I'm still awake.

I hear the light switch go off and feel an arm wrap around me, face burying in my hair and breath giving me goosebumps. I hear Ethan's phone go off, muffled voice coming from the speaker, but neither of us move to get it.

Whatever it is, it can wait till the morning.

„Hey, bro! I'm going to grab a milkshake and stay at Y/N's tonight. Sara and I had a fight about...me being too taken with Y/N to perform if you get what I mean. Ugh, why did I just tell you this?! Either way, don't worry about me. I'll be home around noon maybe. You better fucking delete this voicemail or I swear I'll post that photo of your pineapple tattoo! Don't test me, bitchass!“

That was a mistake.

The next thing I know, I'm being awaken to a hushed fight between Ethan and Grayson, still in my dress and a little dazed.

„You didn't tell me!“ „I have nothing to tell!“ „You're unbelievable!“  They keep exchanging words, but I know I'm not up for Grayson's shit right now.

„What is happening?“ I say through gritted teeth, both of them turning to face me.

„Just congratulating you on your relationship. Didn't expect to find out because I found you in bed together. Definitely didn't see it coming.“ Grayson's eyes pierce through me, looking to hurt me more, demanding explanations that didn't exist.

„We just fell asleep, you idiot. Now get out. Both of you. I need some time alone and away from you.“ I gesture vaguely toward them, pointing at Grayson after. „Mainly you, but since you're a package deal. Leave me alone!“

„I'm not leaving.“ Grayson steps forward, shoving a milkshake in my face and I'm forced to fight a smile from showing on my face. I can't just let it go. I can't just ignore our pact.

So, I turn to Ethan.

„E. please?“ He just nods knowingly, understanding exactly what I mean.

I need closure.

I sit on my bed, folding my hands in my lap and not taking the milkshake.

„You really not going to take this? It's banana! Your favorite!“ Grayson exclaims, plopping on the bed, dipping the mattress and leaning me to his side a little.

„Not in the mood. Say what you need to say and go.“ I say firmly, looking ahead and he sighs, moving so he's on his knees and in front of me, in my line of sight.

„I forgot to tell you and yes, I'm an ass for ditching you. You ARE more important, but she was already there and I couldn't leave her either. Thought you'd be okay with staying and being Ethan's date. I just...I have no idea why I forgot to let you know about it all.“ There's a pause in his speech, one he uses to look me over again and I keep my eyes on his, refusing to look away. He won't win. Not now.

„You look like a dream. So unreal and unearthly and I'm sorry it wasn't seen.“

„I spent the past two months working overtime. Every day. I used up all my savings. I...I did so much just to get into this dress and to be there with you and I just...it meant nothing to you when it meant everything to me. You were so careless tonight, Gray. I didn't even recognize you.“ My words pack a powerful punch, I can tell by the way that twinkle in his eye goes out and anguish takes over. Shame takes over his mind and guilt takes over his heart.

„All that so I could tell you I'm so fucking in love with you.“ I finally say those words, just release them into the world like they didn't weigh me down for so long.

His eyes snap back to me, wide and his eyebrows raise. His breathing almost halting in the moment.

„I am as much in love with you today as I ever was, perhaps even more so, but I'm tired...Tired of watching you choose the wrong girl every time while I'm here all the while, just waiting for you to take one look and realize that I'm the one for you. Because I am. But you lost me too. You've lost all we could have been because you destroyed that innocent part of me that yearned for you, all of you. You've ruined me, so deal with the wreckage you left in your wake. You're the perfect example why hurricanes are named after people. You're a hurricane, Grayson and I need to get away from this storm before it swallows me whole.“ I'm aware my words sound forced and pained, fully aware he's trying to get a word in as well but my monologue stops him because there is so much I want to tell him and so little time as I've made my decision.

I need to let him go. Both of them. At least for a while.

„Don't I get a say in it?“ He questions and I chuckle dryly.

„You want a say in this? Okay, fine! Do you love me, Grayson?“ My words are rushed and those stubborn tears of mine are preparing to burst forth like a river from a dam.

„Of course I love you, Y/N.“ He places his hands on mine, quickly interlocking our fingers so I can't pull away and I purse my lips.

„I don't mean do you love me. I mean are you in love with me.“

Silence. He doesn’t even blink, seemingly stunned by my inquiry.

„Or even like me? Because if you do, only then do you have any say in this.“ I hate how weak my voice is, how wobbly and each break in it mirrors a break inside. I feel as if my lungs are slowly filling with water, as if there's just less space in them for the air.

Why was it so hard with him? Why does it always have to be so hard? It shouldn't be like this.

Not if it's right.

I stand, startling him enough to let go of my hands and move quickly to avoid him wrapping his arms around me. He moves after me, reaching out to grab my arm, but I slap his hands away.

„Wait, please!“ Grayson croaks out, something inside him turning but not fast enough. He shouldn't have to think about it. He's supposed to know. Love isn't thinking you want someone to hold, but wanting that all the time.

„For what, huh? How many ways are there for you to break my heart tonight? Just...give me enough respect and leave. Let me keep what pride I have left.“ I'm shaking, not only on the outside, but inside as well.

Before I met Grayson my heart was soft, with him it became strong and vibrant, now it is simply broken.

And he listened. He left. He left even though I wanted him to stay and say the words I needed him to say. That he loves me, that he cares. Anything, everything...just not leave when I need him.

I pack my things and wipe away angry tears I am so tired of already. Writing a note for the boys if they come back, texting James, I finally leave my apartment and head back home in a need of a proper rest.

They say people who are meant to be always find their way back to each other. They say friends don't make you hurt. They say life is full of surprises and now I know they, whoever they are, are very wrong.

People who are meant to be together don't always end up together and friends can break your heart too which is actually the biggest surprise of all. Heart break is a funny thing. We all know it's going to happen, yet we're never prepared for it. We underestimate it's power. Why are we never ready for it? Because we're in denial. We believe it won't happen. We believe if we give him our hearts he will not crush it. Hearts shouldn't be crushed. They should be cherished and protected. I wish he would have cherished and protected my heart.

Tags: @xalayx @heeydolan @accalialionheart @fallinginlove-16  @rosegoldquintis @nefelibata-diamond @blackdesires-blog @me-a-hopeless-romantic @wannabeactress @mckeeee-1 @godlydolans @daddygraysonsbitch @killmonger-dolan @emy-is-cooler-than-you @5sausefandom  @thatoneperson5000 @the-evolution-of-stupidity @mercy-love18-love @graydolan12 @flowercrowns3438 @trumpettay @skurtdolans @nowheredolan @shadowsndaisies @heartbelongstodolans @gvldenskie

[thegingerwriter]

Istanbul - The Umbrella Academy #1

(Discontinued)

Characters: Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, May (my character) and Vanya Hargreeves.

Word Count: 3944 Words

Warnings: None I think. Occasional swear word, nothing that’s not in the dialogue in the show.

Things you need to know about the character, I’ve added:

- Her power is simply the ability to turn into a cat. No added effects. Just a cat. 

- She is Number 6 and Ben is now Number 7. 

- Her and Five have a very platonic friendship/relationship. Sorry if you thought that was an x reader. 

Hi guys! So I’ve been writing this first chapter since the Umbrella Academy first came out but I wasn’t sure if it was good enough to post! If you’ve watched The Umbrella Academy, this will be easier to understand. Thanks for reading xx

I fell onto Five, hearing him groan underneath me. “Sorry.” I mumbled, pushing myself off of him and rolling onto my back, landing in the dirt. Instantly I noticed I was, in fact, human. I was me again.

Five noticed this too, sitting up to stare at me. “May- you’re- you’re… you.” Five muttered. I guess we were both surprised to find me like this.

We continued to stare at each other and I realised me being human wasn’t the only thing to notice. Aside from me, Five was also different. He was a boy again- the same 13 year old that got himself stuck in the future all those many years ago. Another voice caused us to break out of it, suddenly remembering where we were.

“Is it just me, or do you guys also see little number Five and Six in front of us?” Klaus said and I looked up at him. At all of them. I barely recognised them now. 17 years later they’ve all grown up. Except for us apparently.

“Shit.” I said, glancing at Five who was also starring. Diego, Luther, Vanya, Klaus and Allison. It’s been so long. Five stood up next to me and I followed suit.

What exactly do we tell them? I thought to myself and I could tell Five was thinking the same.

“Anyone wanna explain?” Diego said.

* * *

I sat cross- legged on the bench of the kitchen, the rest of us dead silent as we watched Five at the table, spreading peanut butter on two pieces of bread. He seemed the most relaxed, despite the disbelief the others displayed.

“Wait- where you have you been again?” Allison asked.

“The future. Which sucks by the way.” Five didn’t look up from his peanut butter sandwich.

“Called it!” Klaus hollowered.

I fidgeted with my tattered clothes. “I see we only just missed the funeral.”

Luther looked up at me. “How did you-?” He started but Five cut him off.

“What part of ‘the future’ do you not understand?” He glanced at his sandwich before looking straight at me. “Ruby, could you pass-.” I didn’t let him finish as I chucked him a packet of unopened marshmallows on the bench next to me.

Peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. Now that is something I haven’t seen in a very long time. It’s a Five delicacy.

“You two have just been running around the future for 17 years?” Diego asked.

“We’ve been stuck in the future for…” Five paused to look up at me. “Forty five years, give or take.”

“So... what? You’re both 58?” Luther questioned, looking at the both of us suspiciously.

“No, my consciousness is 58.” Five corrected.

“But we’re both apparently 13 again, unfortunately. I blame him.” I said, nnoddingat him.

“I obviously miscalculated.” He responded, shooting me a look.

“How did you guys even get back in the first place?” Vanya asked.

Five stuffed his sandwich into his mouth, thinking for a second. “I still don’t know how I brought Ruby along with me but,” He swallowed. “In the end, I just had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.”

The others all went silent. “That doesn’t make sense.” Diego confessed and the others nodded.

“Well it would if you were smarter.” Five retorted and Diego pushed his chair back roughly and stood up. I instantly jumped off the bench and stood in front of him, blocking his path to Five and pushing my hand against his chest. I gave Diego a warning look before he huffed and stepped back.

“What were you even doing in the future for so many years?” Klaus asked, suddenly contributing to the conversation.

“We just did whatever we could to survive. I would often try and figure out ways to get home and when Ruby wasn’t attempting to communicate with me I guess she was off chasing mice.” Five gave me a goofy smile and I glared at him.

“That’s not even remotely funny.” I said.

“It was a little funny.” He mumbled.

“You try being a cat for that many years and then you can make jokes.” I crossed my arms over my chest, about to say something else when Vanya stopped me.  

“Wait, what?” She stared at me in complete and utter disbelief. “Cat? You mean for 45 years you were there, you couldn’t change back?” The others looked at me.

I rolled my eyes at the sudden attention. “I’m gonna go change. Gotta be something that fits my 13 year old body.” I said, gesturing to the loose suit on my body.

I began to walk out of the room before Five called out to me. “Yea, me too. Not like this fits me either.”

“What- so that’s it? You’re not gonna tell us anything else?” Allison said and I didn’t even stop walking as I gave my response.

“Nothing else to tell.” I shrugged, and walked out of site.

* * *

Wonderful. That’s the only thing that fits, I thought to myself as I stared at myself in the mirror, As kids, the only clothes we really owned were our academy uniforms and pajamas so there wasn’t much to choose from in terms of outfits.

So I went for the full, regular uniform with the black blazer and my grey skirt. I guess looking like a schoolgirl was better than wearing the ruined clothes that were far too big for me that I had on before.

Sighing, I pulled a comb through my hair, straightening my uniform out right before I heard a knock at the door.

“Come in.” I called out, not even looking at the door. A moment passed and no one came in. I huffed and walked to the door, pulling it open to find an empty hallway.

Confused, I closed the door. Someone cleared their throat behind me and I jumped, turning to find Five sitting on my bed, dressed in his own academy uniform as well.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” I breathed. “You scared me half to death.”

Five didn’t respond to this as he looked me up and down. “You look good.” He noted. I made a face at him and he smiled. He smoothed his hair out with his hands as we both went silent. “So go on then.” He said and I glanced at him in confusion.

“‘Go on’ what?” I said and Five frowned.

“You’ve been unable to talk to me for so long, you’re obviously ‘dying to say some things.”

I shrugged, walking over to sit on my desk. “Nothing in particular comes to mind.”

“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows. “I guess I just assumed you’d be mad at me or something-” I didn’t let him finish as I threw the plastic pencil cup off my desk at his head.

“Ow!” He cried, pushing a hand to his forehead after it bounced off and landed on the floor.

“Of course I’m mad with you, idiot!” I yelled at him, grabbing one of the pillows off my bed and throwing it at him again. “But don’t you think that would have worn off by now? We were stuck in the future for that many years because you decided to be a rebellious teenager and not listen to anything that dad ever told you about time travel!”

I went to throw another pillow at him but he teleported out of site. I didn’t even have to look behind me to know where he was.

I gave a heavy sigh and I sat on the bed, not even bothering to look up at him. “Yes, Five. I was mad at you. And some part of me will always hold a grudge against you for jumping so far into the future.” I met his gaze and he gave me those stupid sympathetic eyes that you could just never stay mad at for long. “But if I never tried to stop you, I would have spent the last 17 years here thinking you were dead.”

A silence filled the room again. “I’m sorry.” Five finally said but the words no longer mattered to me. I let it go a long time ago.

“Anyway.” I said into the silence. “I’m starving.”

“Wanna head down to the kitchen? Probably something down there.” He suggested, before he suddenly gave me a cheeky smile.

“What now?” I asked.

“Race ya.” He said, raising his eyebrows at me and I scoffed.

“We both know you always cheated at this game.”

He shrugged, striding over to the door. “It was always your choice to believe a cat could beat someone who could literally jump through space and time.”

Well, now I wanted to throw another pencil cup at his head. My eyes flicked to the open window and I could tell Five knew exactly what I was I was thinking. The kitchen was three floors beflow us. If I could jump out through the window and onto the second floor railing, I could easily- Five suddenly disappeared and I jumped off my bed.

I leaped for the window and as I did, I changed from human, to a fluffy dark gray cat, landing on the edge of the window before speeding down the railing and jumping onto Allison’s balcony.

I could see the kitchen window from where I was speeding along the drain pipes. I jumped onto the dumpster on the ground, directly across from the kitchen window. I couldn’t tell if it was closed or not but I leapt forward anyway, ready to change back as soon as I landed inside.

My face slammed into the glass, right as I saw Five, standing at the window, a stupid grin on his face as I fell backwards.

I climbed back up to the window, perching myself on the windowsill and waiting him to open it. He ignored me, walking away and leaving me to stare into the kitchen. I saw Diego and Allison sitting at the table, and I pawed at the window until they looked over and Diego rolled his eyes as he got up and pulled the window open, allowing me to jump through.

As soon as I landed on the ground, I was standing on two legs instead of four and I was smoothing my hair out on my head. “Jerk.” I said, glaring at Five.

“You know, for people who are 58, you’re still as childish as when you were kids.” Diego said and it sounded like an insult but I could see the laughter in his eyes. I gave him a smile but I don’t know if he thought it was sincere.

I was about to begin raiding the cupboard when Luther stuck his head into the room. “Hey guys, it’s almost sundown.” He informed us, before leaving again.

Diego and Allison went stuff and Five and I looked at each other. “Does he always come in and tell you what time of day it is?” Five questioned. Diego turned his head towards us but didn’t meet our eyes.

“Luther wanted to have a memorial service in the yard at sundown.” He explained.

“I guess food can wait then.” I said, as Diego and Allison got up to leave. Five and I stood there together again, silence surrounding us.

“A funeral for Dad. Joy.” He said bluntly, before following the others and I did the same.

Outside, it was bucketing down with rain. I stood in the doorway a few minutes later, looking at the others in the wet courtyard, black umbrellas over their heads. I smiled a little when I saw Pogo and Mum. I saw Pogo before briefly but I haven’t seen Mum in four and a half decades. It’s been a long time.

I hugged myself as I walked out into the rain without an umbrella before I suddenly saw Five appear beside me, holding an umbrella over the both of us. I gave him a grateful look before we joined the others.

Luther stood in the centre of the yard, obviously not bothering with an umbrella, holding Dad’s ashes in a stone urn. Allison and Vanya stood off to the side and I glanced over to Diego who also opted to just let the rain fall on him. I didn’t seem like he really cared. I nearly laughed when I saw Klaus walk out and join us with a clear plastic child umbrella and cigarette in his hand. I guess some things just never change.

We all just stayed silent, not really sure where to start. I huddled close to Five, the cold wind not making situation any more bearable. We only looked up when Mum spoke “Did something happen?” She asked, a blank look on her face.

“Dad died. Remember?” Allison said, looking at her skeptically.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” She replied sadly.

Allison turned to Diego with concern. “Is Mum okay?”

“She’s fine, yea. She just needs to rest. Recharge.” Diego answered quickly.

I gave Five a funny look and I could tell he understood. Something was obviously wrong.

Pogo interrupted our thoughts a moment later, looking at Luther. “Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.” He said kindly.

Luther was silent as he stepped forward, clutching the urn and took the lid off. He looked at each of us, as if expecting us to stop him or do something before he turned it over and poured it out into the middle of the yard.

The only thing we could hear was the rain bouncing off the umbrellas as we stared at the pile of ashes heaped on the ground.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asked, moving towards the ashes with his cane. When none of us responded, he did so himself. “In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master… and my friend and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy-” Pogo was interrupted when Diego jumped in.

“He was a monster.” Diego stared at the heap of ashes, as if hoping it would go up in flames. Klaus let out a chuckle as Diego kept going. “He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.”

“Diego.” Allison and I said warningly. There was no need to go that far.

“My name is ‘Number Two’. You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mum do it. Five is still called by his number because he was the last one to get a name, but Mum never could give him one. That wouldn’t be the case if he had actually been a dad.”

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Mum cut in and asked cheerfully. There was clearly something wrong with her.

“No, it’s okay, Mum.” Vanya said.

Diego was louder when he spoke this time, angrier than he was before. “Look, you wanna pay your respects?” He stepped out into the middle of us. “Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kinda man he was.” He looked at Pogo.

“You should stop talking now.” Luther interrupted him. Diego turned to glare at Luther.

“You know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One.” He said sarcastically.

“Guys, stop.” I spoke up but they ignored me.

“I am warning you.” Luther said, clenching his fists.

“After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away.” Diego stepped even closer to Luther and I could tell this was going to end badly.

“Diego, stop talking.” Luther warned.

“That’s how much he couldn’t stand the sight of you!” Diego pushed his finger into Luther’s chest and this is the thing that very clearly fully set him off.

Luther pushed Diego’s hand away and immediately threw his arm out to punch him but Diego ducked under him and punched Luther in the stomach. Within moments, the two boys were in a heated fight.

Vanya pulled Mum back while Klaus put his arm out of in front of Five and I. We pushed his hand away in annoyance, but after Luther pushed Diego so hard he nearly fell into us, Five hooked his arm through mine and pulled me back, too.

“Boys!” Stop this at once!” Pogo yelled, sounding just like when were kids and the boys were fighting, all the same.

Diego and Luther completely ignored him as they fought in the rain, shoving each other and throwing punches. “Stop it!” Vanya screamed.

Luther grabbed Diego and threw him halfway across the courtyard, rolling across the leaves and the dirt.

“Cut it out!” I exclaimed, going to step forward but Five still had his arm looped through mine and wouldn’t let go. ‘Leave them’ he mouthed to me.

Pogo huffed and shook his head, turning to walk inside. The boys simply wouldn’t stop.

“We don’t have time for this.” Five said, as he turned on his heel and was about to walk back into the house when I stopped him. Diego was directly in front of Ben’s statue, obviously ready to crouch as soon as Luther swung his arm.

“Luther, don’t!” I yelled, but it was too late to stop him as he threw another punch at Diego and he ducked, Luther’s fist colliding with the metal statue.

The Bronze statue fell backwards, breaking in half as it did so. We all turned to stare at the broken figure of our brother, now in pieces on the ground thanks to the boys.

“And there goes Ben’s statue.” Allison said.

It looked like the boys were finally finished until Diego pulled one of his knives out. “Diego, no!” Vanya screamed at him, but he threw it at Luther, just cutting his arm as he jumped back.

Luther gasped and gripped his arm, storming past Diego and the rest of, inside the house.

Vanya walked up to Diego as Luther disappeared. “You never know when to stop, do you?” She asked.

Diego didn’t look at her as he leaned close to her. “Got enough material for your sequel yet?”

“He was my father, too.” She said, before going inside as well.

Just before I was about to follow the rest of the family out of the rain, I walked out from under our umbrella and up to Diego. “I may have been gone for seventeen years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember anything. Just because we didn’t necessarily like Dad, doesn’t say we get the rights to talk about him like that after he’s gone. Is it really fair to talk shit about someone when they aren’t here to defend themselves? Even if he really was a crappy person.”

Diego didn’t respond as he pushed past me, attempting to escort Mum undercover. I turned and walk with Five into the house, trying to forget about family drama for even just a moment.

* * *

I walked back into the kitchen again later with Allison. We had been looking for Vanya but couldn’t find her anywhere after the funeral. Instead, however, we found Klaus and Five.

Five didn’t look up at us as we entered, too busy flicking through cupboards and cabinets to really notice, or care probably.

Klaus sat at the head of the table, his legs up and his arms wrapped around around an electric guitar.

“Where’s Vanya?” Allison asked. Klaus looked up at her.

“Hmm? Oh, she left.”

“Five, what are you doing?” I walked over to him.

“That’s unfortunate.” He mumbled.

“What is?”

“An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.” Five slammed a kettle on the bench and I jumped.

“Dad hated caffeine.” Allison said.

“Well, he hated children, too and he had plenty of us.” Klaus laughed, hugging the guitar to his chest. I snickered a little at that.

“I’m taking the car.” Five said, grabbing the car keys out of a bowl on the bench.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To get a decent cup of coffee.”

Allison stopped him. “Wait, do you even know how to drive?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Five scoffed. “I know how to do everything.”

There was no way I was letting him go alone. Right before he disappeared, I grabbed a hold of his blazer and I teleported with him outside in front of Dad’s old car.

Five pushed my arm away when he realised I was beside him. “Do you not remember the last time you decided to do that?” He growled at me.

“Do you remember the last time you decided to run away from the family because you got pissed off?” I shot back. Five huffed and opened the door of the car, hopping inside and I did the same in the passenger side. 

He started the car and gave me one last look before pushing his foot on the pedal and we were off. It was only when he was speeding down the road did I finally ask him something. 

“Why do you suddenly need coffee so bad?” 

“You’re tryinging to tell me that after that many years eating whatever food scraps we could get our hands on, you don’t want a donut from Griddy’s?” He asked, glancing at me as he drove down the street. 

After a few minutes, the car rolled up in front of the diner. “Okay, wait here. I’ll see if they’ve got any donuts left for you.” He said and I scoffed at him. I was about to argue but he got out and slammed the door before I even had the chance to. “Jerk.” I mumbled, for the second time that day. 

As I watched Five enter the diner, the bell ringing as he pushed the door open, I recalled the memories I had of this place. We used to come here when we snuck out as kids when we were bored. Ate donuts until one or all of us threw up and then sneak back into bed like nothing ever happened. 

We never physically got caught, but some part of me always told me Dad always knew. Maybe he was just letting us have some fun for a change, which was something we never got to have as kids anyway. 

I looked through the window to find Five talking to an older man. A truck driver, I believed, since there were only two other cars in the carkpark out front and I had a feeling the pick up truck was his. 

I didn’t feel like staying in the car any longer, waiting for Five to drink his coffee, so reaching over to pull the keys out, I got out of the car, letting the door fall closed behind me. As I approached the door, it opened and the truck driver walked out, holding the door for a split second so I could walk through. I gave him a kind smile before walking up and joining Five at the bench. 

Looking straight ahead, Five said, “’Wait in the car’?” He repeated and I rolled my eyes. 

“I got bored. What’d you say to the truckie?” I leaned my chin on my hand, resting my elbow on the bench. 

“I got an address from him.” Five said, sliding a piece of paper across the bench to me. A clinic of some sort. 

“Why is this important?” I cocked my head at time. He looked distracted, looking at the curved mirror above him to see out into the parking lot. “Five?” 

“I’ll tell you later. We’ve got company.” 

* * *

By the way, Chapter titles are gonna be names of songs from that episode. Because I’m unoriginal :)

[illnessandinjury]

Whumptober Day 24 - Secret Injury

ALRIGHT FUCKERS IT'S LATE BUT IT'S HERE - I wrote half of this while basically high off xanax (it's prescribed, don't come for me), so if it sucks, I blame it on that.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Summary: During a "Survival" exercise, class 1-A is sent into the woods to fend for themselves and make it through the night; it goes well, until it doesn't. The League of Villains drop of a nomu at the campsite, and chaos ensues. Bakugou kind of gets thrown into a tree and gets a bit fucked up, but neglects to mention it until he basically can't hide it any longer. Time line of the story happens before All Might retires. Warnings: Blood, violence, slight emeto. Parings: KiriBaku if you really squint, because fuck you Words: 6,713

Art and fic under the cut!!

Bakugou POV

Goddammit, Bakugou hated the outdoors. He always thought that families who went camping "for fun" were psychopaths and/or masochists. So it explains why the blonde was less than enthused when it was announced that the class would be doing a survival trip in the wilderness. Which, in the first place, didn't make any fucking sense. This wasn't boy scouts - they were all UA students, future heroes. Aizawa made some bullshit excuse that it was going to be a way to test resourcefulness and teamwork.

Everyone else in the class seemed pretty excited, seemed to be viewing it as a vacation, and Bakugou secretly added all their names to the list of "psychopaths and/or masochists". He thought maybe he could tell them he caught a bad bug and had to stay home, but Aizawa told them that the exercise was being scored as a test, and well, goddammit that just ruined that idea. There was no way out of this apparently, so Bakugou held his tongue and retired to his dorm that night to pack his bag - which mind you, there was not much they were allowed to bring. A change of clothes, and that was pretty much it. No cellphones, no electronics or any kind for that matter, they couldn't even bring books for recreation. Wanna brush your teeth in the morning? Too damn bad, use a leaf for all they cared.

The sun had barely risen and they were on their way. The bus ride was long... and fucking loud. He was sharing his seat with Kirishima, although Bakugou didn't really get a say in the matter, the spiky haired bastard just sat down and made himself at home. Mina was leaning over the seat in front of them talking excitedly to Kirishima about all the "cool and fun" things they were gonna do, who was going to build the best shelter, what kind of food they could catch, blah, blah, fucking blah. Bakugou never wished for his phone and earphones more in his life.

By the time they arrived at the site, they had to hike (yes, fucking hike) about a mile to a safe house. Apparently U.A. had a lot of these little buildings placed in the most random places ever. Basically armed with what people would need in case of emergencies. There was rationed food, water, a radio broadcaster, a TV that looked like it was straight from the 1990's, etc. Someone had also taken the time to pack all the class' hero gear into a crate which was being brought in by All Might.

Bakugou watched as Aizawa was desperately trying to get a hold of everyone's attention, before President Mic basically said, "Nah, I got this", and screamed at the top of his lungs which basically gave everyone a heart attack, but successfully got them to be quiet. Aizawa rubbed at his ears, "Yeah, okay, thanks President Mic. Anyway, students, here we start our Survival Test. Let's get the rules out of the way first. Rule number one, absolutely no use of any of your quirks. Two, if I find out that one of you managed to sneak in something on the "do not bring" list, you will be given a failing grade. And three, everyone must make their own shelter; no shaking up. Now, there will be three main areas set up, and you will all be divided between those three. I will be accompanying one-"

"And me one!" President Mic boomed. Bakugou prayed to any god that was listening that he wouldn't get stuck at that one.

"And me, of course!" All Might stood heroically.

Aizawa continues, "Yes, anyway, there's 20 of you in total so there will be one group of six, and two group of seven. These goes as follows; My group will be the one with six. I will have Aoyama, Asui, Iida, Koda, Shoji, and Tokoyami."

Present Mic took the stand next, "And I will have Mineta, Sero, Todoroki, Sato, Kaminari, Ojiro, and Mina."

Kirishima elbowed Bakugou and whispered to him, "That means we're together with All Might!" Bakugou inwardly groaned, not just that, but he was about to be paired up with fucking Deku of all people.

"And of course that means," All Might spoke next, "I will have Uraraka, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, Midoriya, Hagekure, Bakugou, and Jiro."

There was a little bit of mixed groaning from those who got split up from their friends, and the gleeful cheering of those who got paired with theirs. Aizawa spoke up again, "It was all selected randomly, so if you have complaints, I really don't care. Get with your team leader, pay attention and take the lesson seriously, and we'll meet up tomorrow afternoon."

Clicking his tongue, annoyed by the whole situation, Bakugou followed Kirishima to meet up with everyone else around All Might, taking precaution to stay as far away from Deku as possible; this trip was already shitty enough, he really didn't need that fucking nerd ruining it anymore.

"Alright team!" All Might started, and then handed everyone a paper with instructions, tips, and a small map on it, "We have many tasks to do today, and not much time to do them! Everything has to be completed by nightfall or you will either wake up hungry, or be forced to sleep on nothing but dirt. I will be supervising you - after all this is for a grade. If I see someone slacking off and not pulling their weight, their grade will be docked. But," He paused, "That doesn't mean we can't have fun while we're at it!"

'Oh, gag me with a fucking spoon', Bakugou thought to himself. Round face and Deku were looking at the map and excitedly pointing things out to each other, Hagekure was jumping up and down in thrill, and Kirishima was already talking to Jiro about how they were gonna start a forest fire, which... fucking hell, let's hope not. "Alright gang, let's head out!"

They had all fucking neglected to mention the fact that the camp sites were an almost a seven mile hike away from the safe house, and by the time they got there, Bakugou was already ready to call it quits. If the summer heat paired with the hiking wasn't going to kill him, it was going to be the dozens of bug bites he's probably already gotten.

With a small huddle and deviation of tasks it seemed that Bakugou was stuck with Jiro and Kirishima to collect enough fire wood to last the night, set up animal snares (which damn, that seemed a little brutal for a school trip), finding a good source of reliable water, and of course, building their own shelter.

It was tiring, boring, irritating, and by the end of it all Bakugou's body was already covered in a light sun burn, countless thorn bush scratches, and somehow had gotten burs in his hair. They had successfully caught two rabbits, while Yaoyorozu and Hagekure had caught enough fish for them to all have at least one - so they were good on food although they were all a little grossed out by the aspect of the whole wilderness to table dining.

Bakugou set to building his shelter pretty fast but honestly had no fucking idea where to even start. There were some tips on the paper they were given, but honestly he was just stealing looks at the one Yaoyorozu was building and trying to copy it as much as possible, and pretty much failing miserably. Well... it was standing and it was big enough for him to fit under if he curled up, so Bakugou decided to count that as a win.

Night fell pretty quickly, and it was time to get the fire started and make dinner. Starting a fire was not the easiest task in the world, and after about ten minutes of a bunch of his useless classmates trying and failing to get a good spark, Bakugou just wanted to run over there and set the whole thing ablaze - but noooo, that was against the rules. After what seemed like fucking forever, the kindling caught and they had enough fire to spit roast their catches.

Turns out - unseasoned fish and rabbit? Not that fucking good. Like... at all. But with all the energy that Bakugou had spent that day completing dumb tasks out in this godforsaken forest, he didn't complain much; and just chased down the bland food with the water he collected from a nearby river earlier.

Everyone retired for the night (can he just mention the absolute fuckery it was that All Might got to bring a whole pop up tent) and Bakugou celebrated how close they were to being done with this bullshit. Wake up in the morning, tear everything down, clean up, and head back home. Hallelujah.

Of course though - things can't go that smoothly for anybody in this fucking school.

Bakugou was roused from his not very restful slumber, I mean how nice can you sleep when you're laying on a bunch of dirt and twigs, by a scream coming that ran out through air; Hagakure. At first he thought the girl had woken up to a bug crawling on her, and just turned over and tried to go back to sleep - but that wasn't the case. He heard something he would never be able to forget his whole life, a sound that was introduced to him when they first met, the heart-dropping sadistic laugh of Shigaraki.

The League of Villains.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. Bakugou jumped up from his shelter, hands immediately sparking up, looking the threat - but it was dark. The campfire had almost died down and he could barely make out some shadows, which he didn't know who was his classmates, and who were villains. By this time it seemed everyone had jolted from their sleep, mumbling to each other about what was going on, who was screaming, was it a false alarm. Maybe it was? Maybe it was a training exercise and that was the real reason the were brought out here?

Before Bakugou's brain could land on a concrete answer, there was suddenly a huge hand on his shoulder, gripping it painfully before violently flinging him backwards. He helplessly flew through the air until his body collided with a nearby tree, knocking the air from his lungs, and Bakugou swore he could hear something inside him crack. Consciousness must have left Bakugou for a second, but when he opened his eyes again things were still just as dark, and everyone was still engulfed in a confused panic.

His mouth tasted like copper, and he was briefly aware of a warm liquid lazily sliding down his forehead. Then, like a sick, sadistic light switch got flipped on, agony ripped through the blonde. Everything hurt, but the pain seemed to blossom from his left shoulder and side, and then jolt like hot electricity throughout the rest of his body. Turning his head to the side, Bakugou sit the copper from his mouth, and wiped a mixture of blood and sweat from his brow. He sat there for a while, just trying to regain his bearings, breathe through the pain. If Bakugou were a betting man, he'd guess he cracked a few of his ribs, but he couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with the shoulder; it hurt like hell and felt... just wrong. Goddammit, every breath was like getting a knife jabbed into his side.

Another scream rang out from one his classmates, and there was suddenly a bright flash of what looked like lightening with All Might's voice ringing out an attack's name. It was quick, but it the moment of light Bakugou could see a little bit of what was going on - All Might charging at a huge, muscled humanoid; a nomu. That must have been what grabbed him and flung him around like a good damn yo-yo.

He would never admit it, but he let out a breath of relief when he saw that the rest of his classmates seemed fine,  just shaken up and starting to scramble back from the direction that All Might had projected himself towards. In the bright flash there were also no signs of other villains. It was almost like Shigaraki dropped off the nomu and just dipped out - making his head spin of where he had gone and what he was doing. He thought of the other campsites.

"Bakugou?" Kirishima's voice spoke up, soft and shaking, "Where are you?"

Trying to stand up was easier said than done; his whole body protested. As soon as any pressure was put on his left arm to try and push himself up, Bakugou's vision went white with blinding pain and he had to bite his cheek to keep from yelling out. Okay, right arm it was. Gingerly, he was able to pull himself into a somewhat steady standing position and walk, well more like limp, his way over to Kirishima. He gingerly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, feeling Kirishima jump under it, "It's me, shitty hair."

Blindly, Bakugou reached around before his hand landed on one of the other classmate's shelter before he quickly lit it ablaze to get a better picture of what was going on, "There we fucking go."

Like he had seen earlier, all of the other classmates were fine and accounted for. Following the noises of the fight, Bakugou was able to get a clear look at All Might; hand to hand with the nomu and trying to push him backwards. The first idea that popped into Bakugou's mind was to help his teacher out and join the fight, but with his busted arm and ribs, he didn't think he'd be much use. Of course the most competent one here would get put on a fucking crutch.

Suddenly All Might spoke up, his voice booming through the stagnant night air and echoing off the trees, "Listen, students, I need you all to hurry back to the safe house. The other teachers will tell the rest of the students to do the same. Once you're-" He was cut off by the nomu taking a swing at him which he successfully dodged and was able to knock the creature back a bit, "Once you're there, radio the school. Tell them what's going on. Fight only if absolutely necessary, and stick together."

Running was the absolute last thing Bakugou wanted to do - that was such a weak thing to do, so cowardly. He wanted to yell back at All Might and tell him that wasn't going to fucking happen, but the nomu jumped on him again and they locked up together again, "Go!"

Yaoyorozu ran up to Bakugou and the other students who were now standing closely together under the flames that he had created earlier, "I memorized the map from the paper, let's get the hell out of here," she took note of the worry written on some of the other student's faces, "All Might can handle it. He's counting on us to do our part in this situation too."

Okay, yeah, easier said than done, Bakugou thought. Just a moment ago he was wanting to rush in to join the fight, but his adrenaline was leaving his bloodstream slowly and the pain was getting more and more nagging as time went on. He let out an aggravated groan, "Fine, let's fucking go. Yaoyorozu, lead the way."

She nodded in confirmation and without hesitation materialized a flashlight before taking off, the rest of the class following behind her.

Running was... uncomfortable, to say the least. Every time one of Bakugou's feet connected with the ground, a spike of pain shot through him like a bullet, but at this point the only thing he could do about it was grin and bear it. After the noises of fighting from All Might and the nomu slowly faded behind them, Deku spoke up, "Everyone okay?"

Everyone rang in with a hushed, "fine," or, "all good here," and Kirishima's personal, "scared shitless, but other wise okay!" Bakugou spoke up as well, "We're all fine, so shut the fuck up, and focus on not running into a tree, shitty nerd." Bakugou was anything but fine, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that; it would also cause everyone else to give him their needless pity instead of focusing on the task at hand. Best to keep it under wraps for now, but goddammit did it fucking hurt. Every quick dash around an obstacle twisted his body in a way where he swear he could feel the broken bone fragments rub together and his vision would go white for a moment, but he continued onward.

Bakugou was lagging behind, taking up the rear with Kirishima an arms length away from him, so nobody could see him cradle his injured arm protectively to his body, trying to keep it from being jostled too much. If he was being honest though, there was a cold numbness that was starting to seep into Bakugou's left hand, starting in his fingers and slowly working it's way up - that couldn't be good; although part of him was glad because it made it a little less painful.

Suddenly, a horrible familiar raspy voice sounded from behind them, "And where do you all thing you're going?"

Shigaraki. Fuck.

They all whipped around, the flash light illuminating him a bit, his disgustingly pale face, as he reached a hand Bakugou. Shit, if that fucker touched him, Bakugou was going to have a lot more to deal with on his plate, so with quick thinking he blasted himself backwards, "Fuck off!"

Without warning, the light was extinguished and Yaoyorozu's voice rang out, "Scatter!"

Before Bakugou could think about which direction to run in, a rough calloused hand grabbed hold of his left wrist and pulled right. It took everything in Bakugou's will to not let out a shriek of agony, gritting his teeth so hard he tasted blood. The owner of the hand on him spoke up, it was Kirishima, "I have no idea where I'm going!"

The way Kirishima was jostling his arm was almost unbearable, "Fucking let go of me, shitty hair!"

Kirishima did as he was told, but complained, "Fine, but stay close, I don't want to lose you in here!"

"I can handle my damn self, I'm not incompetent like the rest of you fuckers," Bakugou bit back, "Worry about yourself!" The moon had finally moved directly over the woods, and while the line of vision was still not the best, it was at least a little easier to see the basics of what was going on around them. Bakugou glanced behind him, "That fucker isn't following us."

Kirishima made an affirmative noise, "We should find a place to hide for a bit to collect our thoughts and come up with a plan."

Stopping didn't really seem like the best choice, but at this point, Bakugou would take any chance to sit down and try and even out his breathing. The harsh gasps that came from running were like shattered glass running through his blood, "Fine." The pain that enveloped Bakugou unfortunately wasn't the type you could get used to, instead it was the kind that was growing in intensity - aside from his arm which was numb almost all the way up to his elbow at this point. The pain was making Bakugou's mind hazy, he wasn't going to be able to keep a clear head much longer, god he just... just wanted to sit down.

"There!" Kirishima pointed at a large hollow tree that was a couple yards ahead of them. Bakugou followed and they finally collapsed into the shadow's of the tree's cavernous opening. The boy's labored breathing echoed off the wood walls that encompassed them, working their way up the trunk. Kirishima broke the silence first, "O-Okay, so we ran right, right?" he breathed through gasps of air, and Bakugou gave him a hum of approval, "So if Yaoyorozu was going to the safe house in a straight shot, we just need to run forwards, but diagonally left."

Bakugou didn't really think it was all that simple, but it was the best shot they had at this point, "Sounds good enough, shitty hair."

The two rested there a bit longer taking a moment to catch their breath and recharge their stamina a bit, but this time Bakugou's adrenaline was hanging on by a tiny thread at this point. A wave of pain rushed over him, eyes going wide, biting his cheek until blood filled his mouth and slammed his head into the hollow wood behind him; anything to take the edge off the torment that was his ribs and shoulder.

"You good over there?"

"Just frustrated," not technically a lie.

Bakugou could feel Kirishima's skepticism and hesitance, "Alright, well... you ready to head back out there and run for our lives?"

No, "Yep, let's go."

Getting back up again proved to be almost as challenging as it was the first time Bakugou pushed himself up and away from the fucking tree he got slammed into. With only his right arm working properly, he used the tree's trunk to help himself up onto unsteady legs. He was being slow, Bakugou knew, but if he moved too fast he would be engulfed in pain, but if he was too slow he was going to compromise both his and Shitty Hair's safety. They had to keep moving, because holy fuck they were being chased by maniacs; actual psychopaths, and not just the "I like camping" ones.

The two took off running again; it felt like Bakugou had been doing this for hours, he was exhausted. His body was crashing, fast. A rouge tree branch wacked him painfully, catching him right in his injured shoulder and he couldn't bite back the gasp of pain that left his lips fast enough.

"Yeah, man, these thorn bushes are killer on the legs," Kirishima let out a weakhearted chuckle.

Yeah, thorn bushes. Honestly the little pricks cutting up his legs was all but ignored compared to the agony that was radiating through his side. God, he was so fucking weak. Bakugou hated feeling inferior, and that exact feeling was starting to overwhelm him as he realized he was lagging behind, putting more and more distance between him and Kirishima. In a last ditch effort, Bakugou tried pushing more power into his legs, but it didn't too much. The exhaustion, the pain, the... everything was taking over. It was torture.

Up ahead, Kirishima cursed, "Fuck!"

Panic seized Bakugou's chest, "What? What's wrong?" Kirishima had stopped running, and Bakugou caught up with him before he saw it - a small cliff standing right in front of them, easily seven feet tall, "Ah, fuck indeed." Bakugou cast a glance to the left, then to his right, but it seemed that the cliff stretched on for quite some distance; Kirishima seemed to notice this as well. If the boys wanted to keep their straight shot, they were going to have to find a way over it.

"Fuck!" Kirishima cursed again, "Okay, Bakugou, blast yourself up there, and then help pull me up. There's nothing my quirk can do to help me here."

The thought of having to pull up his lug of a friend was enough to cause him to pale, but Bakugou didn't see any other option at this point. Fuck! "Fine, let's get this over with." Bakugou sent off little pops in his hands, gearing up for the bigger blast that followed shortly after. Shit! He overshot it! Good news, Bakugou cleared the cliff just fine - bad news, the ground was rushing up to him pretty fast. With quick thinking, he let off another small explosion to cushion the fall, which worked as good as it could have in theory. Bakugou landed on his back, the breath knocked out of his lungs and for a split second he thought he was going to pass out again. FUCK, it hurt. Taking a moment to try and catch his breath and wait for the agony to slowly ebb away, Bakugou stared up at this sky, not knowing if the stars he was seeing were real or just the exhaustion and dizziness taking him over.

"Bakugou?" Kirishima whispered harshly, "Everything okay up there? You need to pull me up."

"I know!" Bakugou barked, "Shut the fuck up, just give me a second."

Bakugou stole a breath and steeled himself. He could do this. All he had to do was pull Kirishima up. Bakugou wasn't weak, he could do this dammit! Bakugou leaned over the side of the cliff, his arms dangling down for Kirishima to grab, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his ribs as they dug into the ground below him. Kirishima grabbed his hands and Bakugou pulled up and-

No, nope, he couldn't do this. There was no fucking way. Bakugou let go immediately, letting out a strangled cry, cradling his left arm in his lap, eyes pickling with forced tears. He barely registered the sound of Kirishima landing harshly back on the ground below him, but Bakugou could care less. At this point it took everything in Bakugou to keep his vision stable and clear as white, hot bolts of lightning jolted outwards across his body from his shoulder.

"-kugou!" Kirishima was yelling up at him, "What happened? Are you okay? Bakugou, answer me!"

"Shut up, shitty hair! I'm fucking fine, just..," Okay, how was Bakugou going to explain this, did he tell the truth? No, he could just use his right arm to pull him up. He reached back down and Kirishima hesitantly took his arm.

"You got me this time?"

"Yes, so shut the fuck up, and get the hell up here already!"

Kirishima used Bakugou's strength and the wall as he repelled his way up the cliff. It didn't hurt as much as the first attempt, but this one was much harder on his ribs. The muscles in his sides contracted around the broken bones, using whatever strength Bakugou had left to pull up his friend. Afer a lot of discomfort and curses, Kirishima was finally up, already on his feet. Bakugou stayed on the ground, rolling again onto his back and gasping up at the sky. Reaching his hand out for Bakugou, Kirishima said, "Alright let's go." Already? "Just let me fucking breathe for a second, fuck." Bakugou know he didn't have time to just sit around feeling sorry for himself, "Please... Just a second."

Please? Really? Since when did Bakugou let that word slip past his lips.

"So, uh," Kirishima spoke up tentatively, "What's wrong with your arm?" Bakugou cursed at himself. Kirishima may not have the best grades, but he was pretty attentive to details, "Nothing, asshole. I'm fine."

"I'm not blind, Bakugou," He crouched down next to Bakugou's flat out body, "It's your left arm, right? You tried pulling me up, yelled, and then used just your right. Did you hurt it?"

Bakugou wanted to scream at him, tell him to keep his shitty opinions to himself, but he could only let out a strained, "No." Kirishima snapped, yelling in a hushed whisper, "Just be truthful with me for once, goddammit! For once. Shove your damn pride out of the way and tell me what's wrong!"

"I don't know what's wrong with it, okay?" Bakugou bit back, "It just hurts, now fuck off and let's go." Which was the last thing he wanted to do, but if it got him away from this conversation, Bakugou would gladly push onward.

"When did it start hurting?" His friend pressed him, "Did you run into a tree or something?"

Before Bakugou could stop himself he was blurting out the truth, "More like thrown into one."

"What?" Kirishima's voice raised before he quieted himself, "When the hell did that happen?"

He shouldn't have said anything. Bakugou should have just kept his damn mouth shut, but there was no hiding anything anymore. The moment Kirishima got a whiff of something even the smallest bit off, he'd keep pressing and pressing the issue until the person facing him finally caved, "Back at the campsite. That fucking nomu bastard threw me; hard. Fucked up my arm."

Kirishima was silent for a moment and Bakugou could tell he was seething, "You should have told me right away, asshole! Are you at least okay besides the arm?" 

Bakugou remained silent. Why did he feel guilty? It wasn't his fault he got injured. It wasn't his fucking fault.

"I'll take that as a no then," Kirishima responded to his lack of answer, "What else is wrong?"

Bakugou opened his mouth to answer before shutting it again. He didn't want to admit anything. He didn't want to tell Kirishima. Pain was a sign of weakness. Injuries were weaknesses, "I, uh," Bakugou's voice faltered as it broke the silence, "I think some of my ribs are broken."

Suddenly, a harsh thud came from the ground right beside Bakugou's head, and for a second his heart seized thinking that the enemies found them, but realized that Kirishima had punched the dirt, "Dammit, Bakugou! Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

Guilt. It ran through him rampantly, "It wasn't the time. It still isn't. All Might said to get to the safe house. I would have just... slowed everyone down." God, why the fuck did he feel like crying. Why was he so fucking weak?

When Kirishima spoke again, his voice was softer, "You arm. Is it broken too? Or?"

Bakugou let out a weak laugh that sounded more like a groan, "I don't know. It doesn't feel like it is. It just feels wrong," he closed his eyes tightly, "Hurts. The shoulder anyway, the arm itself it just... numb at this point..,”

Kirishima took on a more serious tone, "Let me take a look at it. I might know what's wrong," he started grabbing a few sticks that laid nearby, "I did some brief medical training during my internship. It's risky, but light these on fire real quick so I can get a better look."

Doing what he was told, Bakugou put his hand over the twigs and with nothing more than a small pop, they were ablaze. Kirishima got a good look at his face, and his smile fell, "Damn, you look like shit, man."

"Shut the fuck up, shitty hair."

Kirishima started working the sleeve of Bakugou's shirt up to get a better look at his shoulder. Bakugou bit his lip, trying to keep any embarrassing noises at bay as Kirishima laid his hand on the injured joint; although he wasn't all that successful as a few pained whimpers got through. As soon as they left his throat, Bakugou wanted to punch himself directly in his fucking face.

"Shit."

"What?"

Kirishima stomped out the fire desperatley, "I was right. Your shoulder is dislocated. It needs to be put back in place. Like, now."

"Fuck no," Bakugou paled, "That's not fucking happening."

"Do you want to keep your arm or not?" Kirishima asked him harshly, but it was more deserpate than bitter, "Numbness is a bad sign, so if you want the nerves to keep dying, you can continue being stubborn - or you can let me put it back in place and hopefully be able to use your arm in the future."

Fuck. Fuck! Bakugou sighed in defeat, "Okay. Fine. Just get it over with."

Kirishima sat him up a bit, one hardened hand was placed behind the shoulder, and the other rested painfully on the out of place bone, "It's easier than you see in movies, I promise. But... it's going to hurt. You have to try and keep quiet. I know it's easier said than done, but if the villains find us like this while you're injured..." He trailed off.

Bakugou knew. It wouldn't be good. He wouldn't be able to hold him own. He'd get in the way. He'd be useless. Useless..., "I'm not a weakling like you, I can take it. Just do it already, asshole."

The grip on the bone tightened, and Bakugou bristled, gritting his teeth, "Ready?" Bakugou nodded.

With a rough push, and a paralyzing POP! of the bone realigning into the socket, Bakugou's eyes went wide in pain. It was absolute agony. Sharp, hot, stabbing, electric. Oh god, it hurt so fucking bad. A strangled scream rose up his throat but was cut off by Kirishima slapping a hand over his mouth, and cradling his head, "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. Please be quiet. It's okay. It's over. It's okay now. I'm sorry."

Bakugou dug his fingers roughly into the dirt below him; pain was the only thing he could feel. Tears leaked through his scrunched eyed and Bakugou realized, 'Oh fuck, I'm gonna be sick'. He slapped his friend's hand away from the mouth and tuned his head to the side to gag wetly onto the ground, bringing up thin streams of his meager dinner that night along with the burn of stomach acid and bile.

The sharp pain in his shoulder was starting to receded a bit, only to be replaced with the knife in his side that the muscles around his broken ribs contracting as he retched weakly. Bakugou let out a pathetic whimper before collapsing forwards into Kirishima. The later let out a noise of surprise, and Bakugou's face burned with embarrassment. This was so out of character; so pathetic. Weak. Pathetic.

Kirishima ran his hands through Bakugou's hair, "I'm so sorry, Bakugou." He was exhausted. Whatever adrenaline Bakugou's body was desperately holding onto, left him the moment his shoulder was relocated. For a moment, Bakugou thought he might fall asleep right then and there. The dirt below him and his friend's chest was suddenly so comfortable. Maybe he could just- Suddenly there was a blast far away, and Bakugou looked up to see a mushroom cloud of dirt reach up towards the sky, birds flying away in a hurry to get the hell out of there.

"We need to get moving again," Kirishima informed, "I- I'm so sorry. But we have to get to the safe house."

Bakugou lifted his head up, wiping away stray tears and the vomit that still clung to his chin, "Don't be, 's fine. I'm fine." He tried standing up, but as soon as Bakugou's feet was underneath him again, they buckled and he was sent back towards the ground.

Kirishima grabbed him before he fell back down completely, helping to steady himself, "Woah, there buddy. It's okay."

Weakly, Bakugou slapped away the hands on him as soon as he felt that he was stable enough to stand without help, "I said I was fine, dammit," his retort barely had any bite to it, instead it sounded like an exhausted sigh. The worst thing was that the feeling was starting to return back to Bakugou's arm, the blood returning back to the limb. The numbness was gone, and it just started hurting again; throbbing in time with his jostled ribs. Bakugou tried to keep his breathing low and shallow as to not aggravate his side anymore, but he wasn't very successful, "Alright... let's go."

Kirishima's POV Bakugou was in bad shape. Kirishima cast a glance over at his friend, and even in the dimness of the moon's light it was easy to see how pale his tan skin was, how sweat glistened off of it and stuck his spiky hair to his forehead. Not only that, but Bakugou was barely keeping up any kind of fast pace - but Kirishima expected that; the fiery blonde was clearly exhausted. He broke the silence, "We'll reach the safe house soon, I promise." It was an empty promise, and Kirishima had a hunch that Bakugou knew that as well; they still weren't even sure they were going in the right direction, and they were only going at a fraction of the pace they had been holding up earlier. The other classmates had probably already made it to the safe house. Kirishima hoped, anyway. That would mean that the other pro heroes were on their way. Another explosion sounded off in the distance, and the blonde picked up his speed a bit, and Kirishima matched it. Ever since they took off again after relocating Bakugou's shoulder, Kirishima wasn't working up a sweat at all, but Bakugou's breathing was so labored, and it seemed extremely painful. Briefly, Kirishima remembered the time he cracked a rib as a kid doing something stupid - and it still hurt like a bitch even after the pain killers; he didn't even want to imagine what Bakugou was feeling. That mixed with the agony of a dislocated shoulder? Kirishima shivered at the thought, thinking, 'Nope, no thank you.'

Caught up in his thoughts, Kirishima hadn't noticed that Bakugou started lagging behind him again. He turned his head back just in time to see Bakugou, who's eyes were closed, his face scrunched up in pain, clip his bad shoulder on a nearby tree.

A hoarse yelp rang out through the air as Bakugou was sent to the ground, curling in on himself, hands gripping his left shoulder so hard it looked like his finger nails were going to start piercing the skin, "Bakugou!" Kirishima rushed over, wincing himself at just the thought of it, "Hey, buddy, you alright?" His hands anxiously hovered over his friend, not sure what he could do to make it better, to help ease the pain.

"M' fine..." Bakugou breathed into the dirt covered ground beneath him "M' fine, just... give me a moment."

Kirishima nodded, "Of course, buddy." He kneeled there for what felt like forever, just watching Bakugou writhe in pain. Kirishima couldn't get over how out of character for the blonde; he almost never showed signs of discomfort. It seemed like it was was beyond him; almost like he didn't have any pain receptors. Kirishima took a moment to actually feel glad they got split up together, knowing that Bakugou would probably just had continued hiding his injuries otherwise. It seemed you'd really had to push this kid before he would break down and admit something was wrong.

Finally, Bakugou's whimpers and desperate gasps died down, and his breathing evened out a bit, "Better?"

"Yeah," it was a lie that they both knew.

"Alright," Kirishima pulled Bakugou's good arm up and over his shoulder, "Up we go."

At this point, Bakugou was nothing more than a dead weight. His feet were barely moving, and it was more like Kirishima was just dragging him along. God, he prayed that they didn't run into Shigaraki again, or any of the other villains for that matter. Things were bad; terrible even.

Suddenly another noise rang out through the stagnant night air, but this one was different. A small shot, like the firing of a gun. Both boys looked up the direction of the sound and saw a blast of light shoot upwards towards the sky before slowly dying out. A flare! Oh thank god. It wasn't that far away from them, a little bit to the left and about another mile out. Kirishima smiled and turned to Bakugou, "Look! It's a signal. The others made it just fine." Bakugou let out a weak smile, "G-Guess the others aren't so fucking useless after all."

Kirishima let out a chuckle, glad to see the blonde was still his usual asshole self, but the laugh cut off abruptly as he watched Bakugou's eyes roll backwards, and he collapsed forwards, "Bakugou!" The only thing that kept his friend from falling flat on his face was the arm that was still draped around Kirishima's shoulder. Shit, shit, shit.

In a moment of panic, Kirishima scooped Bakugou up into his arms bridal style and started rushing towards the direction of the flare. Looking down, he took a little solace in the fact that his friend's face was smooth and calm, no longer scrunched in pain and blanketed with exhaustion; but he desperately needed help, and fast.

"Just a little longer, Bakugou," Kirishima spoke to the unconscious form in his arms, "I told you we were gonna be there soon. I promised.”

[stillthewordgirl]

CaptainCanary fic: With Eyes Wide Open (ch. 1 of ?)

In a world where Rip Hunter never formed the Legends, Leonard Snart is trying to mend his ways and work with Team Flash, though sometimes it's easier than others. Meanwhile, Sara Lance is gradually dealing with the blood lust left behind by the Pit and trying to get used to being a hero again herself. When they encounter each other one day in Central City, it seems like a match that just might be meant to be.

But nothing with these two is ever easy.

*

This is going to be an accidental pregnancy fic, one in which both contributors to said pregnancy decide to continue their relationship and do their best with it. If you don't like such things, be warned.

I don't usually write this trope, but an idea grabbed me. Hope you enjoy. And happy birthday to Tavyn and crazygirlne! (And many thanks to Pir8grl!)

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

*

Leonard Snart doesn’t really want to be here.

Sure, he’d been kinda working with the Flash and the other heroes for a few years now. He’d done that of his own free will, even, driven by the need for something new, for a challenge, for yet another way to prove that he wasn’t (and would never be) his father. And while the CCPD (and some of the more general populace) still weren’t sure what to make of the change in Captain Cold, he was generally accepted as being more or less on the side of the angels these days.

(Of course, he kept his hand in. Wouldn’t do to let the old skills slide. But as long as Team Flash and the CCPD don't know, no harm done. Right?)

Still, even though he’d been one of those who’d helped quash this newest threat to the city—a tech-talented meta who’d gone the giant-robots-for-world-domination route—this celebration at STAR Labs is a little...squeaky clean for him. Boring, even. Heroes from a couple of different cities earnestly rehashing the fight, comparing notes and costumes and tech, exclaiming as they run across old friends. (They all seem to know each other. It’s a little creepy.)

Someone had acquired beer and pizza—they’d probably even paid for it, given this lot—and Ramon’s put on some music. Nothing to Len’s taste, of course, just modern crap with an awful lot of bass and no intelligible words. It’s become a real party, with a few people dancing (if you can call it that) and a great deal of laughter.

Ugh.

Leonard himself is slouching in a chair off to the side of the cortex, watching them all from hooded eyes, abandoned beer at his side. He kind of wishes that Mick was here, just to have someone to help him mock the whole thing—but he and Mick are on the outs again, over the fact that Leonard’s still hanging on to this “weird hero gig” (in Mick’s words) and hasn’t given up and gone back to a life of crime. 

It’s not going to happen—at least, Leonard’s pretty sure it’s not. But Mick won’t accept that. (It’d hurt, if Leonard allowed himself to actually think about it. He doesn’t. Much.)

He’s not sure why he hasn’t left this stupid party. Maybe because Lisa’s still here, teasing Ramon out on the “dance floor,” and he wants to keep an eye on that. Maybe because it’s entertaining, at least, to be the one to puncture Allen’s high spirits over a fight that’d gone so well.

Maybe because he’s a little bored lately, looking for a new challenge and occupation, and at least this keeps him from backsliding. Maybe he’s...actually a little lonely.

Maybe it’s partly her.

He’s never seen her here before, the blonde in white who seems as alone as he is, just on the other side of the room. She’s just a little on the short side, lean muscle and long, golden hair and fierce blue eyes, and she’s fought like he’d never seen before. No powers short of being an utter badass, as far as he can tell, but that just makes her more interesting.

She’d been assigned with both him and that Atom nitwit to the city’s South Side, and he hadn’t caught her name. Some sort of a bird-themed hero moniker? He doesn’t recall, mostly because the incredible shrinking schmuck hadn’t shut up enough to let either of them get a word in edgewise. But once they’d been on site and the fighting started, she hadn’t needed words.

Her actions did plenty of talking.

Leonard gives his head a shake, chasing away the recollection of poetry and mayhem in motion, and stood, stretching and glancing across the room again. She also looks like she’d almost rather be anywhere else, and he’s not too sure why she hasn’t left yet.

Maybe the same reason he hasn’t.

Which is to say, maybe neither of them is really sure.

He should probably leave. Insult Allen one last time, scare Ramon, say goodbye to Lisa, and get outta Dodge.

But he doesn’t. In fact…

“I don’t recommend that stuff. Don’t know who bought it, but I’d suggest waterboarding them with the crap.”

The blonde looks up from her perusal of the beer as Leonard strolls toward her. She lifts an eyebrow, but he also sees her lips twitch just a little, and she puts the unopened bottle back down in its nest of ice.

“Suspected as much,” she says smoothly, folding her arms and considering him. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Least I could do.” Leonard parks his hip against the desk beside her, pauses, then inclines his head. “Didn’t catch your name earlier. Our ‘teammate’ was talking too much.”

“He’s prone to that.” Her lips twitch again, but she nods, considering him. “Sara Lance. White Canary.” She glances away, across the room, toward said “teammate.” “From Star City, like Ray. When Barry called for help, there was a lot going on. I...my sister asked me to come.”

Sister...he’s heard of Laurel Lance, even met her once. He hadn’t realized there was another Canary. “And was it all you’d dreamed?”

That gets a low laugh, one that sounds sincere. (He feels vaguely victorious.) Sara glances around, then shrugs, looking back at him. “Well, it was nice to get to hit things for a while. I’m not really sure I fit in with this gang though. They’re just so...so...”

“Shiny? Annoying? Heroic?”

“Hmmm. All of the above?” Sara studies him. “I know you’re Captain Cold,” she admits finally, “but I didn’t catch your name either.”

Leonard bites back a surge of dismay that she hasn’t heard of him. He’d thought his heel-face turn had made enough news, both publicly and in the circles these people moved in, that he was quite recognizable, in more ways than one. Still…

“Leonard. Leonard Snart,” he says smoothly. “Nice to meet you, Sara.”

That gets an actual smile. “I have heard of you,” she admits, “but I wanted to be sure.” A pause. “I’ve been…out of town, out of touch, a lot, of the past few years.”

It’s mentioned in a way that’s curiously both apologetic and oddly confrontational, and Leonard cocks his head at her, wondering. “OK,” he drawls. “Well. I’m me.” He holds his hands out to either side and smirks at her. “Central City’s most wanted.”

Sara gives him a wry look at the innuendo in his tone. “I thought you reformed.”

Her tone is teasing. Leonard lets his smile grow. “Well,” he returns, folding his arms. “I did. Sort of.” He pauses. “As far as any of the heroes know, anyway.”

“Well, you’re telling me.” Her tone is dry.

“Are you a hero? You said you didn’t think you quite fit in this lot.”

He regrets the flippant words nearly immediately, though, because a shadow crosses Sara’s face—although she seems to try to force it away nearly immediately. She shrugs, glancing away and toward the others, then back at him.

“Maybe not,” she says quietly. “But I’m trying.”

Sympathy is unexpected. But there it is, and Leonard finds that he doesn’t want to fight it.

“Yeah,” he admits, even more quietly. “Me too.”

And then, after another moment of quiet in which the two of them regard each other, he abruptly, uncharacteristically, takes a chance. “Wanna get out of here?”

Sara lifts her eyebrows at him. “And…what?”

It’d been so much a whim that he’s not sure, but he’ll be damned if he lets on. “Some decent bars around here. Bars that aren’t so…stuffy. Cheap beer that’s better than this shit. High chance of punching.”

He’s right. Her eyes brighten. “Yes. Please.”

*

Sara lurks in the corners, watching as this Leonard Snart bids a laughing young woman…well, a woman about her own age…farewell, glaring at Cisco Ramon in the process, then fades away into the crowd. She shakes her head, amused, then heads for one of the exits herself.

She can’t help smiling about it, though. This Snart—god, that name—has managed to intrigue her more than she’d ever expected. He’s hot, that helps…those eyes, that lean, muscular build--but Sara hasn’t really thought much about that sort of thing since the Pit. It’s a surprise that the knowledge keeps nagging at her, stirring her awareness and attention.

And to be honest, the sheer degree of understanding in his expression was even more of a draw. He just seemed to get how she was feeling, an assassin—former assassin--there in the midst of all those heroes. Given his own origins, Sara can understand that, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the understanding all the more.

Briefly, she wonders if Snart knows who she is, beyond her name and maybe her connection to Laurel. Likely not. Since she’d arrived in Central City, it’s become apparent that although Barry and co. know the basics of what had happened to her with the Pit, the Laurel and the others in Star City had stayed quite close-mouthed about any details.

And Snart, while seemingly accepted and welcomed into the group here, seems to linger on the outside enough that he probably doesn’t know even that.

Sara pauses outside the building, listening carefully, then turns at the faintest of sounds, watching as Leonard strolls out of the twilight toward her. He moves quietly—though more, she thinks, by habit than any desire to surprise her—and she sees the appreciation in his eyes as he realizes just how quickly she’d marked him.

By all her instincts, it’s mingled with other appreciation too—she hadn’t missed him watching her across the room earlier or the smooth and thorough once-over as he’d introduced himself. But her instincts are telling her something else, too, and given how long it’s been since she’s felt this growing ripple of attraction for someone, it’s something she wants to be clear on.

“So,” she asks him innocently as Leonard starts sauntering away from the building and she falls into step besides him. “How’s the gay scene in Central? I haven’t been out here much.”

Those blue eyes flicker her way, and Sara sees a smile touch his mouth. But he doesn’t stop, and he doesn’t seem surprised.

“Not bad. I’m told,” he says in that sexy drawl. “It’s not really my style. I tend to keep to myself.” He pauses. “Excellent gaydar, though. I’m pan, if you’re looking for a label.”

Ah ha. Sara nods, accepting both the tacit confirmation that he could very well be attracted to her and the suggestion that he’s not usually one to just...hook up randomly. She finds she’s rather pleased at both.

“And you?” The tone is curious and cordial. They’re both testing the waters here.

“Ah.” She glances his way. “Bi.”

That doesn’t make his gaze so much as flicker. Instead, he just nods, and they walk on.

*

Was that question the gentle bit of fishing for information that he thinks it was, instead of an actual query about the scene? He’s pretty sure it was.

Or was she just suggesting she’d rather go somewhere like that, the queer bars down on Morse Street? But then why would she just drop it instead of asking? Although he had said it wasn’t really his style...

There are reasons he doesn’t really do the dating thing, Leonard thinks grumpily. He’s not used to second-guessing himself like this. He’s not used to caring enough to second-guess himself.

Why does he?

But Sara’s speaking again, as they walk, and he listens.

“So,” she says, "I get the impression you wanted out of there as much as I did. Why’d you even hang around? After the fighting was over, of course. You live in Central; presumably you have a place to go.”

“Mmmm.” He turns left at an intersection, crosses the street with Sara pacing him, still considering his words. “Good question. My sister was there...”

“Golden Glider.”

“Mmhmm. And that meant I was...obliged...to put the fear of me into Ramon.” He smirks at her as she rolls her eyes. “What?”

“The ‘protect the baby sister’ act? Really?” She flashes a grin at him. “Would you do it if it was a girl she was flirting with?”

“Would. And have.” He points at her. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Sara chuckles. Leonard finds he really likes the sound. Enough that he wants to get her to do it again.

What the hell is happening to him?

But there’s no more time for confessions at the moment, though, because they’ve arrived at the very dive bar he’d had in mind. It’s not Saints & Sinners—people know him there, and he finds he doesn’t really want to be known right now—and frankly he’s not even sure it has a formal name. But there’s neon in the dark windows, a whiff of cigarette smoke about the place although Central has banned smoking in restaurants for years, and a scarred, heavy door with a handle polished smooth by years of hands. So many of the harbingers of a “good” local dive.

Sara hums in appreciation, looking at it. She reaches out and pulls open that heavy door, and they move inside.

The bar looks, Leonard thinks, rather like a throwback to the ‘70s. There’s a jukebox in the corner, faded posters on the walls, and more of the scarred, heavy wood like that of the door…the tables, the bar, the support beams. There’s even a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. And, of course, there are the incurious eyes of a dozen or more biker-ish types, all denim and bandanas for the men and short-shorts and crop tops for the women.

And here’s Sara in her white leather and him in his black, sauntering in like ying and yang, and oh hell, this is going to be trouble.

He finds he welcomes it.

Beers are acquired—not so much better than that crap at STAR Labs, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore—and Sara takes a sip of hers, giving Leonard a thorough once-over of her own as someone messes with the jukebox behind them, starting up a song that seems vaguely familiar.

“You want to dance, Leonard?” she asks then, gaze challenging.

Don’t mess around…

“You go right ahead,” he tells her. “I’ll watch.”

There’s a gleam in her eyes, and she hands him her beer. “Suit yourself.”

And she walks out, into an empty space that could barely be called a dance floor, and starts to move.

Hell.

Ain’t gonna set you free now…

Leonard keeps the smirk on his lips and his eyes on her steadily, doing his best not to let on to the intensity of his reaction. It’s inexplicable, really. He barely knows her, and he tends to need to know someone before being truly attracted.

But both body and mind and…he won’t admit to heart being a part of this…are. They’re attracted. Very much so.

Then the inevitable happens. The burly man who accosts Sara clearly isn’t politely offering a drink—and her response, glancing toward the dark-haired woman he’d left at the bar, is just as clear. And—just as inevitably—he grabs her.

Crack.

The man yells. Several of his buddies converge on them. And Sara glances over her shoulder at Leonard.

“I got this,” she assures him.

Of course she does.

When those girls start hanging around

Talking me down…

Watching her fight is even better than watching her dance. Leonard tries not to be obvious about swallowing, working some moisture into his dry throat.

He almost glances over his shoulder involuntarily, to give Mick that “are you seeing this?” look. But Mick isn’t there; Mick doesn’t understand why he’s doing what he’s doing these days, doesn’t want to understand why Leonard wants to change, and that hurts—it always hurts—but maybe it hurts a tiny bit less, because—he suddenly thinks, with the shock of realization--Sara does.

She gets it.

Hear with your heart and you won't hear a sound…

She’s amazing, but either the first idiot had a lot of friends or there are simply a lot of people up for a barfight tonight. No sooner has Sara swept the floors with the first lot than more are converging.

She glances at Leonard again. “Now I could stand for a little help.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

'Cause I really love you

Stop, I'll be thinking of you

Look in my heart and let

Love keep us together…

*

“Dad?”

Joe West looks around as he shrugs his coat on, smiling at his daughter. However, that smile quickly runs away as he digests the concern on Iris’ face. “What’s wrong?” “Oh....” Iris shrugs, but the concern is still there. “Nothing, probably. Have you seen Sara?”

“Sara Lance?” Joe glances around involuntarily, but the blond woman, of course, isn’t in sight. The celebration has started breaking up a little, but most of the assorted hero types in Central City to help Team Flash with…what had Cisco named that guy? He forgets…are still there.

“Not in a while.” He studies her. “You worried about something?”

“She was really quiet. And you know, she’d been gone for so long…” Iris bites her lip, then shakes her head. “I’m sure it’s fine. She probably just went for a walk.”

“Who’s she staying with?” One of the drawbacks to getting so much help was then trying to find couches for everyone to crash on.

“Caitlin. Who also hasn’t seen her in a while. And Sara doesn’t have a key to her place.”

“Hmm.” Joe sighs. “I’ll keep an eye out. But she probably just needed some air…or decided she wanted to go get some rest.” He winks at his daughter. “I don’t think the lack of a key would stop Sara.”

Iris smiles reluctantly. “True.” She hugs him. “ ’Night, Dad. Say hi to Cecile.”

“Of course I will.”

His daughter turns away, moving back to where Barry, Ray Palmer, Professor Stein and Jax are good-naturedly debating something, and Joe sighs, giving the rest of the room one last scan. And then another, because his mention of breaking-and-entering has called another “hero” to mind.

He’s still not completely convinced that Leonard Snart has changed his spots, though the man was certainly helpful enough today—and has been for a while now, honestly. Barry’s tendency to see the best in everyone is source both of amusement and occasional consternation, but maybe (Joe admits) he had it right this time.

Maybe.

The former criminal had probably ghosted out the door earlier with some of the better booze Joe knows perfectly well that Wells has tucked away. That’s not Joe’s hill to die on.

He’s no sooner out of the door from STAR Labs, though, when his phone—his work phone—rings. With a sign, he answers, getting into his car and leaning back against the seat.

“What now,” he says, closing his eyes. “After everything…”

Then he listens.

“Yeah, I’m near there. I’ll stop. But…OK, OK. Just a few minutes.”

It’s a dive bar not so far from STAR Labs, really. Joe’s not sure it even has a name that hasn’t been lost to time. He sees the flashing lights—a few patrol cars, an ambulance—and finds a parking spot, then leaves his car and walks toward the scene, wondering again why the lieutenant had called him.

He finds out soon enough.

“Hi, Joe!” Sara Lance says, sounding much too chipper, a smile on her face as she leans against the brick wall of the abandoned house next to the bar. She’s still in her White Canary outfit, which is presumably how the lieutenant had identified her. Joe stops in his tracks and stares at her, then allows his gaze to drift slowly sideways to the smirking visage of Leonard Snart, who inclines his head slowly toward the detective.

Joe takes a deep breath. Thanks his lucky stars that at least the lieutenant had called him rather than simply arresting two people hailed as heroes earlier in the day in the city. And then fixes his gaze on Sara and decides to ignore Snart for the time being.

“What,” he says carefully, “did you do?”

Sara’s chin goes up. “Just wanted a drink. And someone wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Joe takes his hat off and runs a hand over his face. “You sent…eight? Nine?...people to the hospital with mild to moderate injuries. And there are more who wouldn’t go.”

“Yes?” Sara’s tone is a mix of obdurate and innocent and oddly pleased with herself. It’s a strange combo. “It was all self-defense.”

“Of course it was.” Joe shakes his head, then looks at Snart. “And you,” he says with a sigh. “You get your record clean and this is what you do with it?

Snart’s smirk grows. “Didn’t do anything,” he drawls. “Just helped the lady here take out some trash.”

There’s an interesting note in his voice. Is he...

Joe glances back and forth between the two briefly. Oh, hell. If this isn’t trouble in the making, he’s not sure what is.

But he’ll be damned if he’s going to give Leonard-friggin-Snart a lecture on hooking up with a cop’s daughter—or Sara Lance a lecture about doing the same with a “reformed” crook.

Joe draws in a long breath again, then lets it out and jerks his thumb away from the scene. “Get outta here.”

The pair look at each other, then back at him, faces unreadable.

“Seriously. I’m not explaining this to your father,” he says to Sara. “And I’m not explaining to the press why you got locked up for…self-defense…just hours after helping save the city.” He glances at Snart. “And, oddly enough, the bar owner doesn’t want to press any charges.”

“Imagine that,” Snart drawls, inspecting his nails.

“Right. Imagine. Now, get outta here. And Sara, text Iris. She’s worried about you.”

*

Sara: Hi. Im fine! Don’t worry.

Sara: Joe told me to tell u.

Iris: OMG you just vanished! Where RU?

Sara: Out. Having fun. Don’t wait up

Iris: Alone?

Sara: Nope. 😊

Iris: Sara Lance…

Iris: Did U hook up????

Iris: With someone from here????

*

Sara turns the sound off on her phone and tucks it away again, grinning to herself. She turns to Leonard, who’s been watching her without comment, and lifts an inquiring eyebrow, a clear “What’s next?”

His lips twitch. They’d moved off into the shadows after Joe had turned away, but neither of them had, quite clearly, wanted to go back to STAR Labs. Sara had obliged the detective’s request, but now she’s watching Leonard with another gleam in her eye and a challenge in her expression.

Leonard doesn’t, quite frankly, want another bar brawl, no matter how much fun it would be. (He’d slipped the bar owner enough cash to keep his mouth shut, but he doesn’t particularly want to do that again either.)

But there’s something both a little wild and a little longing about the woman with him; Leonard doesn’t know quite what it is, but he’s not going to let her down now. So he leans a little closer and says, “Wanna see the Central City Museum?”

It’s not what Sara expects. She considers him momentarily until a smile suddenly lights up her face, the gleam in her eyes brightening. “After hours, I take it?”

“In a…manner of speaking.”

“Isn’t that across the city?”

She’s right. It’d be quite a hike, and Leonard had left his motorcycle back at STAR Labs. Still, he smirks at her. “Wasn’t that guy whose nose you broke wearing a Nickel City Swords hat? The one who went to the hospital to get a possible concussion checked out?” That hadn’t, as a matter of fact, been his or Sara’s fault. The guy’s buddy had intended to break a chair over Leonard’s head and…missed.

“Yeeesss?”

He takes a step toward the street. “What would the odds be?”

Sara looks…and grins at the sight of a Nickel City Swords bumper sticker on the small red car there. “And he’s not going to be looking for it right away, if I know the emergency rooms this time of night.”

“Indeed.” Leonard stretches his fingers. “I can…”

“No need.” Sara’s already moving toward the car. “I got this, too.”

*

Leonard’s impressed. Obviously impressed, although he doesn’t say a word and lets Sara go to work on the car without more than a raised eyebrow and look of appreciation. And she likes that, she finds, likes his assumption of competence without even question. Instead, he stands guard, watching her back, and only takes the driver’s seat when she asks him to, after the engine roars (well, sputters) to life a few minutes later.

It’s…alluring.

She’d had no more than a sip of weak beer, Sara thinks, looking out the window of the “borrowed” car as the city slips back around them, but she feels a bit drunk. Giddy. Part of it’s because the bloodlust hadn’t taken over in the barfight, and she thoroughly pleased and relieved by this. Part of that is because she’s with a handsome man who seems quite impressed by her skill set and doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about her past.

Of course…he doesn’t really know about all of it.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Lovely timing. Sara turns her head at Leonard’s low murmur, studying his profile. And then she takes a leap.

“League of Assassins,” she tells him baldly, counting on the likelihood that a former career criminal will know of what she speaks. “Kind of a long story how I got there, but I was with them for years. Not anymore, though.”

The league doesn’t—generally—let its people go, and he’s likely to know that, too.

There’s a moment of considering silence. Sara, watching, sees Leonard lift his eyebrows. He doesn’t seem concerned, though, and there’s no moment of disbelief or revulsion—both of which she’s seen far too often in people who are supposed to be on her side.

A drawled “impressive” is the only comment.

Sara smiles.

*

Oh, Leonard’s impressed all right. Impressed, and curious, and more than a little turned on.

OK, well, he’d been that already, but he’s always found competence sexy, and danger nearly as much. Sara is very distinctly both competent and dangerous, and combined with her obvious intelligence and other attributes, it’s all one very gorgeous package.

Down, boy.

No wonder she seems to get him, the crook who’s trying to find his place amidst heroes, if she’s an assassin who’s trying to do that same. And he hadn’t missed the look on her face when he had simply accepted her words without judgment or distaste.

He gets it.

He parks about a block away, and they leave the car, Leonard leading the way toward the museum—not the front entrance, of course, but one of the little-used side entrances for employees. He hadn’t really been prepared to do a little breaking-and-entering tonight, but…

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s always prepared.

They find a place nearby to watch unseen, and Leonard waits until he sees a security guard appear in the small pool of light by the door. The woman pauses, glancing around, then radios in to report the all-clear to the main security office. Leonard knows how it works. He makes…made it his business to know how it all works.

Then she continues on her route, going around the corner, and Leonard moves, Sara right on his heels. He pauses behind a pillar as the overhead camera sweeps by, then moves again as it turns slowly in the other direction, pulling out his lockpicks.

He has a minute. He only needs…let’s see, 42 seconds. And then they’re in, the door closed securely behind them.

Sara lets out a breathless, near-silent laugh—but she gives him an inquiring look before saying anything. Leonard nods, and she laughs a little louder, shaking her head.

“That was amazing,” she tells him, glee in her voice. “We’re OK in here?”

“Yep. They don’t have cameras on most of the areas inside. And indoor security guards only during the day. Gotta love budget cuts.” He glances at her, then decides it doesn’t make sense to ignore what she’d told him not long ago. “Picking the lock, you mean? I’d think maybe that’d have been something you learned in your…previous line of work.”

Sara’s lips curve in an expression that’s not quite a smile.

“Not really,” she demurs, looking around the entryway. “We generally went…other routes.” Her eyes are serious again as she looks at him. “I like your way better.”

Ah. But Leonard leaves the implication alone. Instead, he just holds an arm out with a slight flourish, inviting her into the museum at large. “Now. What would you like to see?”

*

Iris is studying her phone as she walks down the corridor in STAR Labs. She really would have rather been home by now—it’s been a long day—but the puzzle of Sara’s whereabouts is still nagging at her, especially since she thinks she has all those who’d been at the lab earlier accounted for. She glances up briefly as she emerges into the Cortex, registering that Barry is standing there waiting for her, but glances back down nearly immediately, sending one more annoyed text before putting the device away.

“I don’t get it,” she sighs, looking up at her husband. “She’s still ignor…”

The look on Barry’s face makes her stop. “What? Is everything OK? Barry…”

He holds out a hand hastily, though, reassuring her although that dubious expression is still there. “It’s OK. I think. Just…” Barry lets out a long breath. “Um. Well. Snart’s motorcycle is still parked outside. And no one’s seem him in hours. He was here, with everyone else. And then…he wasn’t.”

Iris stares at him, absorbing that. “You think that…”

“Erm.” He shrugs, giving her that kind of sheepish grin she usually likes so much. “Well…I suppose if you think about it…I could see them hitting it off…”

Iris frowns at him, just digesting this. “I always…I guess I thought Snart, well, liked guys.”

Barry blinks at her. “No? I…why would you think that?”

His voice is honestly perplexed. Iris stares at him a moment longer, then closes her eyes. After a long minute, she opens them again. Her beloved, sweet, clueless husband—whom Snart flirts with madly whenever possible—is still looking baffled.

“Never mind,” she sighs. “Well…I guess Sara didn’t say she was hooking up. I just got that impression.” She thinks a moment. “Although, Sara likes girls too, so maybe he’s similar. Makes sense.” A reluctant smile crosses her face. “He’s pretty flirty with almost everyone, actually. And he is kinda hot.”

Now Barry looks vaguely appalled. “Snart? Really?”

Dear, sweet baby. “Really.” Iris pauses. “You text him. Ask if Sara’s with him. I just want to be sure she’s OK.”

Barry shakes his head again, but he pulls out his phone.

*

Barry: Is Sara w/U???????

Barry: C’mon, Iris is worried

Barry: Snart…

Leonard: Yes.

Barry: good

Barry: U guys ok?

Barry: Snart?

Leonard: Fine.

Barry: good

Barry: what u doing?

Barry: If u don’t mind saying.

Barry: Iris thinks your hooking up. hahaha

Barry: Snart?

*

Leonard shakes his head, turning his phone off entirely and putting it back in his pocket before glancing at Sara.

The blond woman is standing just a few feet away, studying a painting intently. Leonard’s no kind of fan of modern art, but the colors of this piece are appealing, and Sara certainly seems to be intrigued. After just a minute, though, she turns, grinning at him, and he smiles back.

“I think we’ve seen most of the largest exhibits now,” Leonard says quietly. “Except for the jewelry exhibit.” His smile grows a little. “They did put a camera in there.”

“And why do I think you had something to do with that?”

“No idea.”

Sara laughs at the innocence in his tone. “Yeah? Like sparkly things, do you?”

“I like beautiful things.”

They hold glances for long enough that it feels distinctly warm when they both look away. Leonard clears his throat. “Is there anything else you’d like to see?”

Sara’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t take the (mostly unintended) bait. “We can head out.”

Getting out of the museum is much like getting in, except that no lock-picking is necessary. The two stroll away as if they’ve never thought of such a thing, and Sara keeps a straight face until a block away, when she busts out in giggles.

“Ahhh,” she says, spinning in place. “That was fun. Thank you.”

“Always nice to show off the skills,” Leonard acknowledges. He glances around. “Hm. Want to get a drink now? Without a barfight.”

Sara nods, but gives him a curious look. “Where? I’m presuming we’re leaving the car where it is.”

“I know a place nearby.” It’s on the way back to his apartment, too, but he’s not going to presume.

“Lead on.”

It’s late enough that Saints & Sinners isn’t full, but there are people there. Still, Leonard—despite his…newer occupation—is known, and people don’t fuck with him. Especially since his times on the hero gig tend to be helping the Flash and co. in dealing with metas and bigger problems, not the smaller-time crooks that often congregate here.

They find a booth, and Leonard, after a quiet query, makes his way to the bar, returning with two glasses of a rather nice scotch, if he does say so himself. He pushes one over to Sara without comment, smiling a little as she takes a sip and hums in pleasure, looking back at him.

“Thanks,” she says, then takes another sip, glancing around. “Saints & Sinners, eh?”

“Truth in advertising.” Leonard takes his own drink. He honestly doesn’t drink much, but when he does, it’s the good stuff. (The scent of stale beer, the funk of cheap liquor…these still scream “Lewis” at him, make him want to vomit.) “You good?”

“I am.” Sara studies him, taking another sip. “Tell me. What led you to…to ask me if I wanted to get out of there before? STAR Labs, I mean. Just then.”

Ah. Leonard inspects the amber liquid in his glass, takes another drink. “I was curious,” he admits. “I’d enjoyed watching you fight. And you didn’t look…completely comfortable there.” He pauses. “Rather like me, I guess.”

It strikes a chord; he can tell it does. Sara very nearly takes a gulp of her scotch, coughs, then regards him.

“Thank you,” she says again after a moment.

“You’re welcome.”

*

The scotch is very good.

Sara gets them both a refill after a bit, raising her eyebrows at the cost but paying without a qualm. She takes the glasses back to the table, and they continue talking.

She learns that his sister, Lisa (vaguely to Leonard’s horror) is just about Sara’s age. She learns that the last mark on Leonard’s record before it’d been expunged was the killing of his own father—and why, a tale he tells without a flinch, watching her with calm eyes that nonetheless seem to be watching for any sort of revulsion.

Revulsion Sara doesn’t show. Because she gets it. In fact, she thinks, watching Leonard’s still face, if Lewis Snart was still alive, she very well might go looking for him herself.

To get that look off his face—how has that face become so important to her, in such a short period of time?—she speaks up herself. She tells him more about the League. And then, almost to her surprise, the Amazo. Lian Yu.

At some point, Leonard gets them another drink.  Then Sara—a little buzzed and more than a little reckless--gets them another.

Someone follows her back to the table.

Leonard stands as the other man—a weaselly sort wholly unlike the brawny thug back at the other bar—grabs her arm as she goes to sit down. But he doesn’t butt in, waiting to see what happens.

“You don’t wanna stay with this guy,” the newcomer says, not even looking at Leonard. “He’s a cop squealer, now. If you’re one of us, babe, you’ll want to come with me.”

*

The look on Sara’s face is incredible.

Leonard isn’t sure whether to smirk or sigh as she darts that “are you fucking kidding me?” gaze at him. He keeps his expression mildly interested as he glances at the nitwit holding her, one Ethan Kozarovich, a not-so-bright and relatively small-time thug who’s always thought he was far more than he actually was.

The question in that gaze is unmistakable. And Leonard can’t deny Sara the chance to fulfill it.

“Got your back. But take it outside,” he says quietly, before downing the drink she’d brought him. “Got an agreement here.”

Sara nods. Then she turns that look on Kozarovich—who seems like he’s suddenly, vehemently regretting his life choices—and snaps, “Outside.” Then she downs her own drink, slamming the empty glass down on the table.

“Here is…”

“Outside.”

Kozarovich looks like he wants, quite suddenly, to wet himself.

*

Not so long later, Sara and Leonard are strolling away from Saints & Sinners, both trying (and somewhat failing) to keep from outright laughter.

It shouldn’t feel so good to knock down a minor-league jerk-ass like the Kovarovich, Sara thinks. But it does.

It does because the bloodlust hadn’t taken over. It does because the asshat who’d dared to grab her is still alive, just slightly damaged. It does because Leonard is looking at her with a gleam in his eyes that says just how very impressed he is, and that gleam is doing things to her, things she knows, knows she wants to explore.

It’s been a very, very long time since she’d truly wanted anything like that.

They’re cutting through a park, and Sara spins around in the night air, taking a deep breath and letting it out, then turning to Leonard, who’s watching her intently, pausing in his own stroll.

“I feel alive,” she sighs with a deep, completely pleased sigh, then continuing immediately, recklessly as he watches her. “No, you don’t understand. Leonard…I was dead for a year.”

His steps slow. “Pardon?”

“Dead,” Sara tells him recklessly, looking up at the stars to avoid seeing his face. “Cold and dead. Three arrows to the chest and abdomen. Dead before I hit the ground. I was mourned, I was buried. I…well, presumably I did what dead things do.”

She looks at him, then. “My sister...well, she found a way to bring me back. About two years ago. But I wasn’t...I wasn’t myself for a long time afterward. I’m only starting to feel that way again. But I felt more alive tonight than I have in a very long time.”

If he shows any disbelief…any sort of revulsion…

He doesn’t. He blinks, slowly, and considers her, but years of familiarity with the oddities of Central City—and maybe his own instincts--seem to lead him to believe her.

“That’s amazing,” he says after a moment, as Sara watches him. “But…you’re OK? Now?”

Concern wasn’t what Sara had expected. Of all the possible reactions to this story, she finds she likes that one best.

“I’m OK,” she agrees, then impulsively reaches out and takes his hand, pulling him toward her a little, putting it over her heart, which is beating strongly. Leonard studies her as she looks up into his face, smiling a little, her hand over his own. His own face is very serious, but not in a way that seems problematic.

“Alive,” she repeats. “And happy. And not at all cold.”

After another moment, Leonard cracks a smile.

“No, you don’t feel cold to me,” he says quietly, moving even closer. “And I know cold.”

Sara snickers. “Now, that’s a line.” She pauses, studying serious blue eyes. “You don’t feel cold to me, either.”

“Good.”

And he kisses her.

*

That first kiss is, perhaps, just a little tentative. Exploratory. Both of them seeing if the spark they’ve been feeling is really there.

It is.

The second kiss, after a brief pause for air, is a good deal less tentative. In fact, Leonard, much later, finds bark from the tree he’d been up against pressed into the soft, broken-in leather of his jacket. (It falls to the floor as he shakes the jacket out. In a rare display of sentimentality, he saves a few pieces. Later, they sit in a small bowl on his dresser, with the gold locket Lisa had worn as a kid, his grandfather’s lucky silver dollar, a pack of matches filched from Mick’s coat, and a few other things.)

By mutual agreement, they head for his apartment, the one in city center, acquired by a much-younger Leonard Snart before the area started toward gentrification and still owned today under an assumed name. It’s after midnight, now, and the building is mostly quiet; they don’t see anyone in the hallways or the elevator.

Which is good, because he decides it’s his turn to take the lead, boosting Sara up against the mirrored wall and continuing the kissing.

When the elevator door opens, neither of them is inclined to separate, so Leonard simply carries her down the hallway toward the door, as Sara wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders and keeps kissing his neck, his jaw, his mouth, caresses passionate and just a little bit rough in a good way. Somehow, he managed to her his keys out and into the lock, then maneuvers them both into the apartment.

If not quite all the way to the bed.

*

Iris: Sara? Ray’s here. Says u were gonna ride back to Star w/him

Iris: Should he wait?

Iris: Sara, pls let me know your OK.

Sara: I’m good! 😊

Sara: tell him thanks, but I’m staying around here a few days

Iris: OK

Iris: Do I wanna know where?

*

Sara, having fished her phone from the tangle of clothing strewn across the floor, bites back a laugh at the suggested irritation in Iris’ words. She chooses not to respond, putting the phone safely on Leonard’s dresser before turning back to the bed (where they had, ultimately, wound up).

The man in question is sprawled across the surface, nothing more than a sheet tugged over his hips, watching her from hooded eyes, a smile/smirk on his face. They hadn’t fallen asleep until early morning, and although it’s now after noon, he doesn’t look at all inclined to go anywhere. Sara runs her eyes over him, smiling herself, content and relaxed in a way she hasn’t been in a very long time.

They had been very well suited.

“Everything all right?” he drawls.

“Mmhmm. My ride is planning to head back to Star City soon.”

Leonard’s face shows a flicker of…something…but he quickly conceals it. “Ah,” he says quietly. Sara, watching, sees his shoulders tense before he sits up smoothly. “You have to go?”

There’s very definitely disappointment in the words. Which makes it easier and somewhat less awkward to stroll back toward him, smiling, and admit, “No. I said I wanted to stay around here a few days.” She pauses, suddenly feeling awkward anyway. “I mean, I can stay with Caitlin, help Team Flash clean up…”

But there’s a smile in Leonard’s eyes too, and he lowers his lashes again, watching her.

“Or,” he says smoothly, reaching out, catching her wrist gently, pulling her toward him, “you could stay here.”

Sara laughs, relief coursing through her. “But whatever would we do with our time?”

“I’m sure we could think of something.”