#and he's sitting down and he makes so many European Noises trying to figure out what the reporter is asking him

[imperatorrrrr]

Hello! I, as a European, am very intrigued by what you mean when saying ‘European noises’ in your latest fic 😬

Good Evening, Anon! I'm watching the last period of the Nux v. Preds game (Quinn v. Roman), so let's share some of examples of European Noises™.

If anyone is wondering, Anon is talking about my Luke Hughes, Personal Assistant fic (which you're hearing it here first folks, will have a sequel at some point, once I finish this one fic I'm trying to get done before the end of November).

European Noises™ is the brain child of my fellow Historian, @jonasiegenthaler, so much credit to her.

Examples of Nico's European Noises™:

Exhibit A - the "oh" when Nico hears Bratters shots on goal stat

Exhibit B - the "oh" in reaction to Jack's first career hatty

Exhibit C - his big sigh before answering the question about eye black

Exhibit D - this cute little "oh yeAH" in the Team Switzerland locker room.

in essence, its just like noises Nico makes that have been generally named European Noises™: the "ohs", the "ahs", the big breaths, the deep sighs, the "huhs" etc. he makes a lot of them, so this is just an umbrella term.

I hope thats helpful!

[itstheimpossibledream]

It’s Only A Play -Part 3

Word Count:3244

Pairing : AU Henry Cavill x FemBlack!Reader

Summary: We love a good slow burn. SMUT

The bag crackled in his large hands. You found yourself wondering why he even bothered delicately tearing the wrapping, when he could easily smash both the wrapper and cookie open in one fist. The fortune seemed so small in his hands.He held the paper back a bit further than you would have expected and you realized he was probably one of those people who needed glasses but refused to get them.He cleared his throat again."It says 'The art of living is taking the biggest chance.'"

"In bed." you said quickly

"What?!" his eyebrows flew up in shock but,he laughed to keep from appearing to hopeful.

"It's an American thing. You read a fortune cookie and at the end you add in bed. It makes every fortune cookie funnier, I promise."you said not breaking eye contact. He threw his head back and laughed even harder. It was a childish trick but, something about it tickled him so much he hardly noticed when his hat fell off of his head and onto Kal who had been peacefully sleeping in the slice of floor behind Henry's chair. His baritone chuckles echo through the apartment and you’re amazed that neighbors didn't even cross his mind as a concern in this place.Realistically he probably wasn’t even home enough to get a noise complaint. His laughing had lessened and you could feel him watching you. You knew people who had embarrassingly nice apartments but, nothing like this. This was just lavishly ridiculous.

"It gets lonely being here alone." He said evenly,reading your mind. "Family doesn't visit much and keeping friends with a schedule like mine is just..."

"Not easy ." you finished for him.You could feel his eyes boring into you carving out a space in your heart for him and you try to will yourself to stop. You both sat comfortable on the silence for a while, momentarily mutually mourning the lifestyle you lost to live your dream.

"Okay read yours!" Henry gestured to you cookie. You smashed it to bits,gingerly pulling out the paper fortune. You sat up tall clearing your throat trying to figure out if this fortune would be equally funny or if your childish trick had run it's course.

"You Are very talented in many ways in bed." You say bursting out laughing as he doubled over again.

"Come on! How come I couldn't have gotten that one" he jokes shrugging his shoulders.

" Just wasn't your fortune."you tease winking at him and getting up from the table.Okay so you were flirting with him,definitely flirting with him. But a highschool showmance was so unlike you. You knew the golden rule was to never go for your co-stars and yet here you were winking and shit. Maybe he'd ignore it , he really knew nothing about you outside of your work.

"So what made you like this story? When you got the script when did know you had to do it ?" He had moved from the table, his eyes shown brightly as he recovered his hat from the floor on his way. At the end of dinner you assumed it would be normal to grab your jacket and go back to your room.It's not like he had really planned for you to be over, and you weren't even friends so staying up this late with him to gossip wasn’t exactly in the cards. You had already learned so much more about him than you had expected to. He expertly moved to the kitchen,uncorked a bottle of wine he had chilling in the refrigerator and returned to the couch handing one of the glasses to you. So, now you were staying, I mean it’d be rude to turn down wine.

"Uhhhhh- well I think the relationship is relatable, it's real. It's not about these two perfect people but, it's about this perfect love they have... ya know?" You whirl yourself onto the seat on the couch next to him."To imagine what they were going through as a couple I mean- it must have made everything harder, these characters are from completely different worlds and they still choose each other in their own way. " He nods next to you , this was new. Geeking out with him about work wasn't what you expected but, you were actually enjoying it.

"So let me ask you something?"he pushes leaning in , He wrings his hands together and you’re distracted by the veiny passageways that mark down from his forearms."When do you think it would actually be necessary for them to have a sex scene?"he asks timidly.

"Right!" you exclaim! "I love Stephen but the way he directs it makes it feel so clunky !"you emphasize with your hands and he chuckles saying "Okay I'm so glad you noticed it too- like who has sex like this robots?"

"You know his partners have to be weird." you laugh , noticing how pointy his canines are. God, he looks like one of those twilight vampires, his stupid skin probably did shine in actual sunlight Not that New York would get any though,you acknowledge while making a mental note , not to drink to much of the wine that was clearly causing you to get distracted. You finish your glass and set it on the coffee table.

"Yeah I don't know i just think it's an unconventional love story and we need more of those." you smile , sheepishly meeting his eyes , going back to the topic of the show. His lower lip juts up as he nods,in agreement.

"Soooooo what's next?"you pop up, moving to his kitchen opening random cabinets, trying to find his liquor stash. You come across the empty bottle, of what must have been the wine you just drank and turn to him in the living room with a fake pout. It wasn’t that you were bored, or even that you didn’t want to spend time with him sober ;as much as it was that you desperately needed to cling to the idea that he wasn’t a good man for you.

"O. you can smoke out on the terrace if you want, and I don't have any more drinks here but,I can call down to the frontdesk to run and get you something.” Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head.

"Of Course you have a front desk."you chortled to yourself.

"Hey, this is the flat the show is paying to keep me in not my own." he pointed at you in mock sternness

"No I'm okay. I don't smoke and drink all the time " you chided at him,he probably didn't really think that. He was just trying to drum up some conversation.

"and here I thought you were a real New Yorker." he jokes breaking into a toothy grin.

" I'm from a very small town-" you divulged with a sigh"definitely not New York.”

"Yeah- there's not many people from where I grew up around here either." he said plainly , moving to take off his rehearsal sneakers, for what was probably the first time since you had gotten to his place.

"You miss it a lot huh?" you ask

"I mean I go back often but, it's just much nicer to not have camera's up your ass all the time."he huffs, moving to the second set of laces.

"Ahh that good old Hollywood fame." you joke, with a sigh. He just smiles at you, beaming embarrassingly knowing he can never seem to say the right thing around you. For some reason busting his balls was somehow so much better than admitting to a feeling that you were becoming increasingly aware of,you wanted him.

"I'm not like a smoker smoker" you say, slicing through the silence "I picked it up from my ex and it just kinda stuck." you admit with a flippant gesture of your hand." But, only when I'm nervous or something."you felt the need to clarify.

"And why would you be nervous?"He smirked, pushing his shoes under the decoratively simplistic coffee table across from him and sliding down the front of the couch to sit on the floor. His thighs seemed abnormally large as he spread his legs out and started stretching. This time it was your turn to look away from him.You peeled your eyes,just as quick as he had before your shower. The confidence that radiated from him was absolutely maddening. You couldn't understand how any man could be so aware of their looks and yet still come off as slightly shy.

"I'm always nervous the first days of rehearsal.The new schedule, the new people, it's all just overwhelming at times." you divulged honestly. He pulled a knee into his chest heaving a sigh as you continued. "I wish I never started smoking though." you circled back.

"Do you wish you never met him too?"Henry asked, inquisitively peering up from under his hat as he switched knees. You exhaled slowly,fighting for the right way to answer that question.

"Sometimes yes" you nodded. "When I first moved to New York it was really tough, I felt really lonely too." you allowed your voice to trail into a whisper. There is a silence and then you can feel his eyes on you, your cheeks burning red-hot and the more you avoid looking at him the stronger the urge is.

"So that's why you're single." it was brutal but, you weren't upset.Long ago you had come to a similar realization about yourself. Plus, european’s had a way of sounding rude while simply stating facts, it’s part of what makes them so trendy.

"You've allowed life to make you become tough and jaded so you just don't date?Is that it?" he perked an eyebrow in your direction while removing his baseball cap.While you took no offense to his comment, that didn't stop you from hating it.

"Why do you care?" you asked immediately, choosing the defensive instead of going deeper and chasing him down the rabbit hole of honesty.

"See what is that?" he questioned.It was clear he was not going to be letting this go anytime soon.

"I'm trying to do the assignment. I'm trying to get to know you and you push me away."

"Don't be ridiculous."you roll your eyes toward him once again."I'm not pushing you away I just have boundaries and things I don’t want to discuss with you."

You push up from the couch and head in the direction of your room. It was not within his right to pry about your personal relationships,and truly there was nothing more to discuss. Plus, you knew if you stayed close to him a moment longer, you would give into his eyes and the beautiful vanes bulging in his large hand.

"Why?" he asked jumping to his feet,his agility momentarily shocking you as you turn to leave.

"Because I don't want to ! Because you're not-"

"Not what?" he pushes" I've been working around you and this thing between us and I don't why you can be blunt about everything else except this !" He got dangerously close to raising his voice and it stirred the butterflies in your stomach. Something about him being so stern with you set your sex drive ablaze. You could feel yourself biting down hard on your bottom lip and the more you refused to break eye contact with him the more fired up you became. You could see the honesty behind his eyes, he was trying with you, he was proving himself every step of the way and you hated how much you loved it.

"Fine. What is it? What's the THIS?" you ask sarcastically, staring directly at him. His face looked blank and you wondered for a moment if you had asked the right thing. He grabs your hand,falling back onto the couch and pulling you onto the couch on top of him.You quickly realize you are able to put yourself in a position where you can straddle him as he grabs your face, pulling you down to kiss him. You kiss him back slowly , taking time to explore with your tongue. You can feel his hand tangled in your hair at the back of your head and it does something wild to you. You grind down into him and you hear a slight moan escape his mouth.

You bite down suddenly on his bottom lip before coming up for air and he simply can't take it anymore. He wraps his arms around your legs and lifts you up by the bottom of your thighs, carrying you into the bedroom. You feel ridiculously delicate in his arms as he carries you. You break from the kiss momentarily, to make sure your head is ducking all the way under the doorframe as he holds you,smiling into your kiss.

You pull your own shirt off, letting it hit the floor with a loud 'thwack'. The noise momentarily wakes you out of your horny haze. As he lays you on the bed,you bring your forearm up to cover your eyes, in the vaguest attempt of shielding yourself from your own embarrassment. He pulls your pants off and while unsure ,you don't protest as he gingerly splays your legs open for him to see the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

"O you're so wet for me now."he smiles from ear to ear as you peek through your hand just enough to see his perfectly chiseled chest and you shut your eyes again wondering if this could be real, if he's real.

" We're not done ."he smirks, grabbing you by the legs and pulling you towards him. He then gracefully flips you over onto your hands and knees facing away from him.He pulls your panties down and drags his large fingers over your wet slit and you arch your back at his touch. He settles one hand on your hip as he uses the other hand to work himself into you.You had imagined he was big, but when you feel his head poking into you, you knew your fantasies could never compare to the reality. He uses the hand on your hip to slowly pull you further onto him until you are taking in his whole length. Moving painstakingly slowly, in and out of you. You hear him moaning above you and then he whispers "Fuck” in that stupid accent before snapping his hips into you and pushing you forward. He uses his other hand to prop you up because he knows he's pushing way to hard for someone of your size. Slamming into your pretty little cunt over and over again. You let out his name and you allow plea after plea for him to let you cum. He pounds into you grabbing your hair and pulling your face up to meet his.After a few more thrusts he finally graces you with a reply.

"No." he says and then pulls out of you. Your body immediately feels drained, completely and utterly fucked out and somehow all you want is more. You hold the position for a minute breathing into the lack of movement when you look back to see Henry watching you. Working himself in his large hand, the veins in his arms bulging and a slight bead of sweat beginning to work it's way onto his forehead.

"Turn over" he commands, and as much as you want to move quickly your legs feel like jelly,the smile line at the corner of his mouth fades as he walks towards you and flips you over himself. He positions himself above you again and says "I want to see that pretty face you make when you cum." he smiles down at you sweetly. Pushing in between your hot folds again and the noise you make is downright pornographic. You know it , he knows it and only fuels the fire behind his thrusts . He reaches for your neck again, giving you a pale necklace of fingers and veins that contrasts with your skin . With his other hand you feel him grab at your hand and interlace your fingers with his, above your head. Your eyes fly open and he is looking directly at you, smiling a bit and you can tell he is taking you in. Revelling in all the tiny noises and ways your body responds to his. You can feel his pace quicken as his moans increase, it almost feels as though the longer you look at him the harder he fucks into you, challenging you, seeing if you can handle him. His curls begin to dampen and stick to his forehead, you watch while he looks down on you. He momentarily breaks having his hand at your throat to bring his own pointer to his mouth. You watch as he lighlty bites down on it while letting out a moan.It's almost as if he's trying to keep himself quiet, or burn this view into his brain, but he's to turned on to focus. He fucks into you harder and harder, you can't take it, seeing his teeth around his own finger made you absolutely feral. You cried out his name immediately and before you could realize what was happening you felt your walls tightening again under him. Your legs shook as waves of pleasure washed over you and you could feel yourself clamping down on him. He fucked you through the orgasm, and when it seemed as though you had recovered, he climbed up your body, forcing his cock down your throat, and came instantly. He shudders and makes deep grunts on top of you. You can't help but gag a little on his length as you try to take in the art that is his unclothed body. He hears you struggling for breath and immediately pulls himself out of you. He holds a thumb at the bottom of your chin and watches as you swallow every drop of him. When you're done you look up at him, giving him your best attempt at doe eyes and he turns your chin up for him to kiss you . Fuck. Fuck. you were not supposed to fuck your coworker.Especially not this coworker, you barely even liked him. After a few moments of making out the contact fizzled and eventually he was just laying next to you, breathing heavily.

"It's purely physical." you sighed, watching the small curly hairs on his pecs as his chest heaved.

"Is it?" he began laughing. His smile shone bright in the dimness of the room. He turns to face you, leaning in for a kiss again and you're to weak to deny him.

"Dammit." he whispers between your lips. You grab the back of his head pulling him closer to you, your mind to blissed out and high for you to think.He kisses you hard and then pulls back. He hops off the bed, chest heaving as he uses his forearm to wipe away the sweat. You sleepily roll over to face where he's going. Some minutes pass and before you know it your overly fucked body is begging for rest.You drift of to sleep feeling euphoria in the big bed.

[mercurygray]

i saw your post about the ballet au and figured i’d hop on in the ask box to enable <33 (bc i am very much ✨intrigued✨ entirely haha!!)

So glad someone asked!  Behold, 1300 words of utter nonsense - featuring ballet himbo Talbert , fresh from a stint on An American in Paris because I can, a really lovely interview by @shoshiwrites​‘s Jo Brandt, and some very  👀 commentary from Tab’s instagram followers, who totally know something’s up between Winters and Warren:

He’d come back here with every intention of tossing his bag on the couch and filling his water bottle - but the problem was that the couch was already occupied. "Well, well, well,” Dick said, trying to sound angry even though he was the furthest thing from it. “Look who it is. Fresh from his European tour.  Still managing to convince people you can sing and pass for a GI, Tab?"

"And you're still managing to be a Disney Prince," Floyd Talbert spat back, standing up quickly so the two of them could watch each other for a bare moment before they broke and Floyd pulled Dick in for a big hug. “Buddy.”

“I'm glad you’re home,” Dick said, meaning every word.  

"Glad to be home,” Tab admitted, sitting back down on the couch with an undignified flop. “Musical theatre is fun, but I want to get back to my roots, you know? Speaking of which - reviews on Mayerling are fantastic,” Floyd said with a grin. “I watched some clips on the plane. Who knew you could do hot?" He grinned at Dick’s slight unease. "So, where's the girl you get to seduce every night? I want to meet her, she's out here making you look like a sex god." He flipped open the magazine he’d been reading to the photospread, an impossibly nice art shot of Dick doing something wildly athletic. "Case in point: Hello, Mr. January."

Dick felt himself blush a little. "Will you stop? Your blogger entourage is rotting your brain." 

"Have to give the fans what they want, Dick,” Tab said, leaning back on the couch. “I am what the internet calls 'a simple himbo' and I'm having a moment. Speaking of which, we need a picture of the two of us so we can break Instagram." He turned around on the couch so he could hold up his phone. “Smile!”

"Please don't put something stupid in the caption," Dick begged, somewhat toothlessly, knowing that Tab was going to do...whatever Tab was going to do.

Tab composed for a moment and read aloud. “Hanging out with man/myth/legend Winters in between #Mayerling shows. Plans to invade Europe developing nicely. #2021tour #companydance #himbosanonymous”

Dick sighed and made a vague gesture before going to fill his water bottle, listening while Tab’s phone made a series of noises indicating the world thought well of the photo, and came back to his friend paging happily through his comments. “Hey, you didn’t answer my question. The internet needs to know more about the situation with your new principal, while I’m here. They want the deets. Although I really want to steer them towards this article, which is delightful, by the way. You should have Jo Brandt write copy for everything.”

“I haven’t read it,” Dick admitted, digging in his bag for his shoes.

Tab made a noise of disgust. “Dick!”

“I have to rehearse, Tab.”

“Fine, then I’ll read it to you while you warm up,” Tab said, unstoppable. “I might skip a bit, you know, for reasons.”

He cleared his throat and settled into a seat against the wall. "After the events of last year, it's clear that the Company's board and creative team are eager to turn over a new leaf - and what a leaf it is. Heading in a new direction with a blazingly hot ballet that will make converts of even the most lackluster of classical dance fans, they've also enlisted the talents of a new principal whose roots in the dance world run deep. A graduate of the Royal Ballet School, with stints in Paris, Vienna, and San Francisco, Joan Warren’s dance credentials are impeccable - a fact that should be shared before we mention that her uncle is also on the board of this prestigious institution. But there was little favoritism in her selection - a field of twenty candidates were all in the running for Eileen Hammond’s position.

Was it intimidating, I ask, coming on to such a team at such a time? Hammond's pointe shoes were considerable ones to fill, and Winters - he smiles as I suggest this - has been known to be a formidable partner. "You know, I did meet her, after we'd been in rehearsals for a while, and we got on pretty well. She's been such a part of the company and the reputation that's been built here. But everyone's been very welcoming, and kind."

Winters is quick to remind her that she also didn't come in acting like she owned the place. "She came in for rehearsal like she was another dancer for warmups, and and the dance mistress comes in - oh, Miss Warren, you don't have to practice in here. 'It's fine, I like warming up with the company.'' Winters smiles as he tells this story. "She's going to laugh at me but she goes out of her way to make other people look good. Particularly me."

It's true - the twenty-eight year old dancer has never looked better than he does playing Crown Prince Rudolf. A man we've gotten used to seeing as the prince of fairy tales fairly sizzles in this role, which is a deal more sensual than his usual fare, and a large part of that, he says, is having a partner who sells that appeal to the audience. Warren's Vesera is magnetic, and one can see a youthful energy in her dance sequences with the company that seem at odds with the poised, collected young woman in the room now.

When I ask about playing a sixteen year old girl in an epic love story, Warren's eyes light up a little. "It's...you know, it's a fun challenge, and there's so much there to work with. Rudolf is older, and has been beaten down a lot, right, he's in this loveless marriage and his mother is very demanding and here's this young woman who is...totally outside of that. When we're teenagers we think we can do anything, right? And he finds that..." she looks over to Winters, who is smiling and nodding in agreement, "Intoxicating. And she...she loves being in this position of power. She plays with him. But I don't think she really understands, fully, what it is she's playing with, how deeply troubled he is. For her it's just a game, and it makes it all the more tragic." Has she ever been in love like that, she chuckles a little and looks at her hands. "I think we've all been a little stupid, but fortunately, no." And Winters? He snorts and shakes his head. 

Do they see any of themselves in the characters they're dancing? "His drive, I think, to do better, be better," Winters admits. "He's very hard on himself, and I recognize that." And Warren? "I hope I have a little of her joy," she says, with a smile that suggests there's no trouble finding any of that in her life. "I'm not sure I want to be manipulative or naive." Her co star is quick to assure her that she's neither of those things. Their natural partnership here is just as palpable as when they are dancing - one will start a sentence and the other will finish, and they both constantly watch each other, waiting to see if the other needs help or support. It's truly lovely to be in the room with them.

After having watched them be wildly in love on stage, the energy here is much softer but no less connected - though they've only been together a few months, one gets the sense of a deep sense of shared understanding between the two dancers that will hopefully continue delighting audiences for many seasons to come.

As for what’s next, one needs only to look to the season’s list - the Company’s third show this season will again have them dancing opposite for ‘Sleeping Beauty’ - and we can only assume tickets will sell fast, if the success of Mayerling has been any indication. ”

Tab put down the magazine and gave Dick a long, long look as he paused and met Tab’s eye in the mirror behind the barre. “It’s a very nice article,” Dick allowed. Tab huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Where’s Lew? Has he read this?”

“Probably,” Dick allowed, going back to his stretches. Tab was already back on his phone, taking yet another photo of the magazine spread.

[psych0midget]

Music Soulmate AU

I basically just rewrote this from Andrew’s POV

The first time Andrew hears what is soulmate is listening to he is in juvie.

In juvie they encourage troubled youths to listen to music. He has a radio and “free” access to a computer. But the music radios pass on is not exactly of his liking. And it’s not like he can surf the internet however he likes, not when the internet is controlled and censored.

To be honest, he’d never even thought he might enjoy music before his soulmate. His soulmate has good music taste.

Thanks to Pig Higgs he has landed in a juvie with plenty of rehabilitation programmes. He’d gladly avoid joining any of them, but his counsellor made it compulsory.

And so Andrew choses the music programme. That’s how he larns to play the guitar- just so he can play the songs his soulmate listens to.

It’s only when he gets out of juvie that he finally finds out the names of the bands and musicians his soulmate listens to. He buys their cds, downloads their songs, goes to their concerts and listens to them 24/7.

Out of juvie he also finds out that he has a twin brother who plays the drums and a cousin who plays the piano. And what is he even supposed to do with a brother he knows nothing about but start playing music together?

At first it’s mainly covers. Aaron sets the rhythm and Andrew strums his guitar. It’s quiet and slow, like their uneasy friendship. The more they get comfortable with each other the better they play together.

It’s only when their cousin Nicky walks into them playing an instrumental cover of The Ghost of You by MCR that he decides to join them. Nicky ditches his piano, buys a keybord and becomes an official member of their unofficial band. 

The first time Andrew does the vocals of one of their covers, both Nicky and Aaron hit the wrong notes and then stop playing altogether, staring at Andrew with their mouths wide open.

It’s Aaron who breaks the silence with a screeched “you’ve always known how to sing LIKE THAT and you’ve never done it before?”. Andrew just shrugs, but from that moment on he becomes the designated singer.

Their unofficial band becomes official when Kevin Day joins the line up. He plays the bass, but most importantly he writes songs. And good damn songs. Plus his father Wymack owns an independent music label and he signs them.

Even with a contract in their pocket, Andrew and his band (now called The Foxhole, who even knows why, it was Nicky’s idea) have to cut their teeth. They slowly work up the ladder one little concert after the other. It is exhausting.

Andrew hadn’t signed up for crazied fans when he’d started playing the guitar with his brother in the attempt of making up for 14 years of being convinced they both were alone in this world. But at least the fans are growing the more and more numerous.

Last week they filled a small arena with 5 thousand people in LA. The posters outside the venue said “The Foxhole, SOLD OUT.” After the show Wymack had smiled proudly and told them that the recording studio would be booked for them all month long.

And that. That is one hell of a month. Andrew loses count of how many times he thinks about breaking Kevin’s hand.

But through the caos, the deadlines, and the mind-numbing recording sessions, Andrew has - well Andrew doesn’t have his soulmate. Not with him anyway. But he has a good playlist to come back to when he gets home.

He knows at what time his soulmate turns on his mp3 player. And every evening at 8pm Andrew takes one hour just for himself, sits on the sofa and religiously listens to the playlist his soulmate is playing. It’s a habit he took up in juvie, a habit he would never give up to.

The Foxhole’s first album jumps straight to the first position of the Alternative Music chart. Right on the day it comes out.

When they get the news Nicky is so ecstatic he jumps on the sofa like a child. Aaron hugs his girlfriend, lifts her up and makes her spin in the kitchen as they laugh and laugh and laugh. Kevin just smiles, which is quite shocking per se.

Andrew’s heart skips a beat only when at 8pm he hears his soulmate listening to The Foxhole’s album. And at that, just at that, his lips slowly curl up into a smile.

After that, Andrew’s life gets the more and more chaotic. It’s shows and interviews and world tours. It’s trying to set an alarm at 8pm even when he barely has time to breathe just to listen to a couple of songs from his soulmate’s evening music session.

It’s waking up at 5am when in Paris and cursing the European tour. And then it’s missing it. Missing it when he crashes on the couch and his meds take too much out of him. It’s having The Foxhole’s concerts set at 8pm.

It’s Andrew secretly hoping his soulmate listens to his concerts because Andrew can’t listen to his playlists. It’s Andrew wishing he’d stop hoping his soulmate would come find him after a concert.

Andrew is taken off his court-mandated meds during the pause between their last tour and the new album. The drug-induced mania wears off, leaving Andrew alone, parsing through the white noise in his brain and the thoughts that won’t leave him alone. Never never never.

One night he’s so drained out by the effort of overcoming his addiction and getting used to the new way is brain is wired, he falls asleep on the sofa before 8pm.

He wakes up at 2am, angry and frustrated and pissed off he’s missed his soulmate’s daily playlist. And if Andrew, frustrated beyond words, picks up his guitar and starts trying to put his thoughts into notes nobody has to know.

It’s not like Kevin will judge if he finds out. Kevin himself started composing to fight his own alcoholism.

But nobody really has to know. Not even when Andrew makes a habit of it. Picking up his guitar and humming along with the music he plays- trying to figure out what sounds right and what doesn’t. What eases the pressure on his skull, what makes his head hurt even more.

Nobody has to know, but he kinds of forgets that his soulmate *does* know. And Andrew tries so hard not to react. But when in the morning he hears his soulmate singing along to his new song, Andrew finds himself smiling. Andrew is sooo fucked.

Let’s not even talk about the somersaults his stomach makes when his soulmate starts playing awful upbeat songs whenever Andrew stops composing. He hates those songs, thanks but no thanks.

But his soulmate annoyingly persists pestering him with happy songs. And Andrew gets what his soulmate is doing, he knows his soulmate is doing his best to show him he likes what he’s doing, he gets it, he’s just not ready to admit it to himself.

He ends up telling Aaron. And it’s just because he needs to have someone else play with him. Just to test out a few things. Not because it’s Aaron.

Aaron who disgustingly smiles at him when Andrew shows him what he has composed. Aaron who knows he has a soulmate. Aaron who asks “it’s him isn’t it?” when Andrew puts his hands in his hair because his soulmate is listening to one of his sickening upbeat songs.

Aaron who tells Kevin. Fuck you Aaron.

Andrew knows Kevin would happily crack his head open if he didn’t need a singer and guitarist. He hears him mutter something like “that fucker knew how to compose and he never said anything before”.

They end up rehearsing the song together. First it’s just Aaron and Andrew showing Kevin and Nicky the ropes, then it’s the whole band. And if the smile on Kevin’s lips is any indication, the song is good. Damn good.

They end up including it in the new album. And Andrew is okay with it. But then Wymack hears it and decides it’s going to be the single paving the way for the album. Andrew doesn’t want to, it’s *his* song, it’s something he’d come to share with his soulmate and his soulmate alone.

He was happy with it becoming part of the album. He had anticipated how it’d feel like to hear his soulmate listening to their album and recognising the song. He had not anticipated the song becoming mainstream.

But he says yes to Wymack. He owes him that much. He still decides to do things his own way.

The Foxhole are supposed to debut the song during the first concert of their promotional tour. It’s Kevin who usually does the talking, but before he can start presenting the new single Andrew snatches the mic.

He feels Kevin’s eyes drill holes in his head when he says why he wrote the song, why he recorded it and- and that’s all because he has an annoying soulmate who supports him. And when he finishes Aaron is smiling (fuck you Aaron) and Nicky is staring at him with his mouth open.

If the screams and the yells and the choruses asking for an encore are any indication, the crowd loves the song. Andrew doesn’t care. His head is screaming “now he knows now he know now he knows”. And who would ever want to have anything to do with him. He’s fucked up. Oh he’s fucked it all up.

He grits his teeth through the concert, trying to prevent the walls in his head from crumbling down right in front of thousands of people. He regrets saying it but he misses his meds. They made this part easier, they didn’t let him dwell and spiral down into chaos.

When the show finishes he knows what’s waiting for him. A wall of fans screaming to his face that they are his soulmate- Aaron had warned him about it when Andrew had told him what he’d planned on doing.

He locks the door of his changing room and tires to breathe through the panic choking him. Just a few more minutes and then he’ll get out, face the fans and the media and the mess. He did this to himself. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes- but the door of his changing room is thrown wide open. The intruder closes it back behind his back and presses his body against it to keep the door shut.

Andrew barely manages to say “What the fuck?”

“Lock picks!” the guy throws them a him. Andrew effortlessly catches them one-handed. The intruder flashes him a smile so bright it can’t be real. Just like the red curls and the blue eyes and everything else about him. Who the fuck is this man?

As if he’s reading into his mind, he says “Don’t worry your bodyguards will be here in a sec.” Another smile.

Andrew barely has time to open his mouth and reply when the bodyguards come crashing into Andrew’s changing room. And right then the stranger says: “By the way, I’m Neil and in the morning you always listen to Welcome to the Black Parade. Nice to meet you soulmate.”

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 18: Hogsmeade Rendezvous

(Click here for chapter 17!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

“Where are you going?”

Already halfway out the hole in the wall that made the entrance of the Potions professor’s chambers, Hermione turned around surprised. “Um, I was just going to the lavatory.”

Snape gave her a calculated look from his seat in front of the fireplace. “You could just use mine, you know. It’s the door to the right.”

“Oh, o-okay …” Hermione trailed off, feeling terribly abashed by how much she was stuttering. “Thank you.”

And with that, she staggered through the room to said door before disappearing into the bathroom behind it.

Once inside, however, the witch immediately had to gasp in amazement. The bathroom itself was not special; if anything, it was rather dilapidated. In the middle of the room, a big, round bathtub was embedded into the floor. It had most likely not been used in a really long time as it was covered in a thick layer of dust. The left corner of the room was home to a huge walk-in shower, one of its faucets leaking heavily at its base, and opposite of that, there was one of those outdated, eggshell white toilets with a flush chain, its lid slightly crooked. The only piece of furniture was an elongated wooden cabinet that extended from one end of the wall to the other. On top of it, there was a washbasin, with its enamel already starting to chip in some places.

But the one thing that made the room extraordinary was that one of its walls was not made of stone – instead, it was just one big window looking out into the depths of the Great Lake.

Her mouth wide open, Hermione took a few steps towards the glass just as a school of small fish swam by. The murky water gave the entire bathroom an eerie, greenish tint – how amusingly fitting for the quarters of the Head of Slytherin. Taking a closer look, she could see the amazing panorama that was normally hidden away within the depths of the lake: the ground mostly consisted of natural boulders covered in seaweed, with countless aquatic creatures either swimming around freely or using them for hiding. A small Grindylow could be seen; it had apparently repurposed a lost suitcase as a nice, little home. Above it, a group of Selkies was patrolling. And maybe it was just imagination, but Hermione thought that she could even make out the shadow of the friendly Giant Squid dancing around in the background somewhere.

The Muggle-born waved her hand around, trying to catch the attention of the creatures; but they paid her no mind. She soon realised that the glass must be enchanted in some way, acting as a sort of magical one-way mirror. Regardless, she was mesmerised. She had always loved the water and how it gave her the freedom to move around weightlessly. So unsurprisingly, she had fallen in love with the Great Lake during that first boat ride she had taken as an incoming first-year. But while she had spent many beautiful hours by its shore, she had never once seen it from this perspective before. After all, she had been unconscious during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

She was so captivated by the beauty in front of her that a sudden loud knock at the door made her jump.

“Hermione? Is everything all right?”

Shit. She must have been staring out of that window for too long!

“Yes, I’ll only be a minute!” she called back and could soon hear footsteps walking away from the door.

Quickly using the toilet, the thing for which she had originally came here, she washed her hands and was just about to leave the bathroom, her slender hand already on the doorknob, when she suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of the Floo Network coming from the other room. Hermione pulled back hesitantly. She did not know who the mysterious visitor was, of course; but at any rate, it would be better if no one saw her in her teacher’s quarters and started to ask questions.

I really should have taken Ginny’s advice to heart. What if Professor Snape’s guest needs to use the loo, too?

She carefully placed her ear on the door, not once thinking about the fact that she might be eavesdropping on a very private conversation.

“Severus, my boy!” The cheerful voice obviously belonged to Professor Dumbledore.

Hermione’s heart missed a beat. Had she returned to the sitting room just one second earlier, she and Professor Snape could have been in a really sticky situation!

“Headmaster.” Snape’s voice was almost too low to understand. Hermione had to smirk when she thought about the long face he was certainly making right now; she knew all too well how much he disliked the older man’s antics. “What brings you here today? Unannounced, if I might add …”

There was a thud-like noise, and Hermione assumed that it came from Professor Dumbledore sitting down in the wing chair she had occupied just minutes ago. She prayed to the gods he would not notice that the seat was already warm.

“I came to enquire your expertise, of course! You see, I’ve recently received an interesting flyer from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and immediately felt intrigued by one of their products, the WonderWitch’s Everlasting Eyelashes. Now, with how busy I am right at the moment, I can’t just get up and leave to take a quick trip to Diagon Alley, and with Christmas right around the corner, shipping would take ages. But then I thought, ‘Well, Severus is such an intelligent and capable brewer, I am sure he could help me out!’”

“So let me get this straight … You are asking me, a Potions Master who could brew you everlasting life in a bottle, to throw together a simple eyelash serum?”

“Yes!”

Hermione let out a silent laugh. Sometimes, it really was hard to believe that Professor Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of his time.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. “I am not even going to get into how ridiculous this is,” Snape then said in an impassive voice. “But even if I wanted to fulfil your request, I couldn’t. Any magical cosmetic product requires Mooncalf oil which I do not have in stock right now.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I thought as much which is why I already placed an order at the apothecary in Hogsmeade. It should be ready to be picked up right about now!” The next part made Hermione perk up her ears. “Why don’t you take Miss Granger with you? Ordering potion ingredients is something she should familiarises herself with during her apprenticeship, and I am sure that it would also be good to get out and away from the seventh-year stress for a bit.”

“May I remind you that students, regardless of their age or position, are not allowed to leave school grounds just like that?”

Hermione heard what sounded like footsteps on a rug.

“You have my special permission,” replied Dumbledore with a chuckle before once again, the sound of flooing resonated through the wizard’s quarters. Still, Hermione waited another minute or two before emerging from her hiding spot.

Professor Snape was still sitting in the exact same spot as earlier and did not even look up as she walked past him. But when she finally arrived at her chair, she noticed a small mug filled with plain black tea hovering above it. Her face immediately broke out into a smile. The first few times he had prepared a cuppa for her, she had just figured that he had not been considerate enough to offer her any milk or sugar. But during one of her visits – the professor had just left to get something from his office – a small house elf had appeared and handed her the beverage with the words, “One black tea straight up, just like Master Snape says Miss Hermione likes it!” It was only then that she had realised that he had been paying attention to her, after all.

“Looks like we are going on an outing today,” Snape suddenly said before taking a sip of his own cup without lifting his eyes from the book on his lap. He liked his tea disgustingly sweet with at least half a dozen spoonfuls of sugar and enough milk to make it have an almost white appearance – Hermione had been paying attention to him too, of course.

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

“What do you mean it’s not ready yet?!”

“Ze delivery arrived just a few minutes ago,” explained the young apothecary at J. Pippin’s Potions in a thick Eastern European accent. “I still need to veigh it and carry out ze usual tests to prove ze content’s auzenticity.”

“I’m a bloody Potions Master! I can do that myself!” Severus growled threateningly, but the man did not even bat an eye; he had obviously not been a student at Hogwarts and therefore had never learnt to fear the bat of the dungeons. Severus could not help but feel a tiny bit uneasy. He knew that he had softened up a lot over the past few months, and now, he was afraid that at some point, he was going to lose his innate authority completely.

“As one, you should be avare of ze laws and regulations dictating zat I am not allowed to give you any goods vizout checking them zoroughly beforehand.”

Severus snorted in disgust. “Well, how long will it be then?”

“If I ztart right now,” the apothecary answered. “Probably about an hour.”

“AN HOUR!” The only thing that outburst got him was a nasty look. “What am I supposed to do for an hour?!”

“It’s okay, Professor.”

So far, his apprentice had kept in the background. But now, she took a step forward and positioned herself between the two wizards, blocking their direct view of each other and therefore immediately reducing the tension in the room. She looked him directly into his eyes, a slight smile on her face as she gingerly placed her hand on his forearm. Severus instantly felt like he had a gigantic lump in his throat.

“When you think about it, an hour is not even that long. We could have a look around the other shops or maybe even get a drink somewhere.”

“With all due respect, I can’t just go to the Three Broomsticks and have myself a butterbeer. Merlin forbid someone should see me in there!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a smirk. “If you want to be absolutely certain that you won’t meet anyone you know, then I have just the place!”

At first, he was rather confused and also a bit intrigued by her smug expression; however, that feeling quickly died down when about ten minutes later, he found himself jammed between the wall and a small gaudy table in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.

Severus felt extremely uncomfortable, almost like a fish out of water. He had known about the place, of course. It had always been the dating hotspot for Hogwarts students, even back in his days. But unsurprisingly, since he had never been one of the popular kids and thus had never scored a date, he had not once set foot inside the infamous tearoom.

Looking around, he felt overwhelmed by the seemingly endless amount of tacky and frilly décor covering every single inch of the small room. All corners were filled with ridiculously small, round tables pilled with cheap china and fake flowers, the walls were plastered in a terribly ugly floral wallpaper, and there were a few random bright pink garlands hanging from the ceiling here and there. The man did not understand how anyone would ever voluntarily frequent this establishment and thanked the universe that he and Hermione were the only customers at that moment; he did not even want to imagine the weird stares the two of them would otherwise have got.

Speaking of Hermione, he turned his attention to the young woman sitting across from him. She looked so pretty with her cheeks flushed red from the cold and her brown hair all fuzzy from the fluffy woolly hat she had been wearing earlier as she studied the menu in absolute concentration. Severus could not help but be a bit flustered – this was feeling suspiciously like a date, and that made his stomach do somersaults.

“I think I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” Hermione finally spoke up. “But I’ve heard that their tea selection is also quite good if you’d rather have that.”

When he shook his head, she put down the menu to signal that they were ready to order which in turn set Madam Puddifoot in motion. She was certainly an interesting character – her greasy black hair tied into a strict knot at the top of her head, the corpulent witch had quite a bit of trouble navigating through the cluttered salon without knocking over a bunch of chairs. When she finally reached their table in the far back, she proclaimed in her screeching voice, “What can I get for you, my darlings?”

Severus raised one of his black eyebrows – no one had ever called him that.

“Could I get a caramel macchiato with an extra shot of caramel syrup, please?”

“Oh, good choice! You must have quite the sweet tooth!” The older woman let out a deafeningly high laugh before turning around to face Severus. “And what about you? The same or –“

“Black.”

The short and crisp reply seemed to throw her off for a second. “A-alrighty then … I’ll have your beverages with you shortly.”

And with that, she staggered away, knocking over a nearby gilded statue of an angel in the process.

For a few minutes, there was an awkward silence. Stealthily studying her through his lashes, Severus noticed that as Hermione was letting her look travel around the room, she was fiddling with the bracelet she was wearing around her left wrist. He had seen it before; it was the very one she had received from Dumbledore for her birthday. This made him think of his own gift, the one he had so stupidly gone overboard with. He realised that he had never got the chance to explain himself regarding that foolishness. But just as he was about to open his mouth, he was interrupted by two cups of steaming hot coffee suddenly appearing on their table out of thin air.

Surprised at first, Hermione let out a small squeak. Severus then watched as she carefully pulled her cup closer before taking a rounded sugar bowl from the table next to them and adding about three teaspoons worth of white sweetness to her beverage without tasting it even once. Afterwards, she took her small spoon and used it to gingerly skim off the heavy layer of whipped cream topping off her drink, devouring it little by little.

Severus was observing her so intently – almost as though he was mesmerised by her trivial movements – that he had to force his eyes away from her form in order to finally take a sip from his own mug. He took a few seconds to savour the bitter taste in his mouth.

“Miss –“ He quickly scanned the room and only continued when he saw no sign of the café’s owner. “Hermione, do tell how you thought of this place? I never took you as the sappy type.”

“Oh! Well …” She seemed a little nervous all of a sudden, a bit of whipped cream still stuck to the corners of her mouth. “I’ve actually been here before.”

Severus tilted his head just ever so slightly – he did not like where this was going. “Have you then?”

“Yes …” Why was she suddenly avoiding eye contact? “With Viktor Krum.”

BANG – it was like a bullet straight to his heart. He had completely forgotten about the fact that she had been that Krum bloke’s date to the Yule Ball three years ago. Of course – any woman, even a bookworm like Hermione, would be incapable of resisting the famous foreigner’s mysterious charms. Severus began to feel nauseous. How could he ever compare to someone like that?

“How romantic,” was all he managed to squeeze out, his gaze fixated on the floor.

“Not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Viktor is a really great guy, not at all what you would expect from a student of Durmstrang, and I enjoyed his company greatly.” BANG, BANG – another two hits right to the chest. “But while we certainly took a liking to each other, the real spark was just never there. And either way, it would have never worked out in the long run. That whole Quidditch thing is so not my cup of tea and a long-distance relationship at that age? No, at the end of the day, it was for the better that we separated on friendly terms.”

What?! Could it really be true that the Bulgarian was not in her life anymore?

“Plus, Ron kind of ruined it with his jealously anyway.”

The Weasley boy! Severus would have never in a million years thought that he would one day be thankful for that brat’s existence.

“I guess that Viktor was just not the guy I’m looking for.”

Not thinking rationally, Severus decided to be bold. “So what are you looking for then?”

Her cheeks somehow became even more flushed than before.

“I don’t really know,” she said quietly. “I guess I want someone who cares more about academics than sports. Someone who would not get annoyed with me for spending hours reading, because he would be just as immersed in the pages as me.”

There was a short pause.

“But I think that most importantly, I want … I need someone who understands what I went through during the war. Someone who has felt the same pain that I have felt. Because how could I ever explain that to an outsider?”

(Click here for chapter 19!)

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Eight

A/N Daniel isn’t really in the next few chapters but be patient...each interaction between smaller characters play important roles into the plot ;)

Saturday, October 12th, 2019

October 12th couldn't come soon enough. It was the day Callum was flying in for a visit. The twins hadn't spoken in weeks and Florence missed her brother terribly. When he said he was flying into the city, he told her he was bringing someone with him. Filled with curiosity, Florence was almost bouncing off the walls. She spent that morning preparing the apartment nicely and even dressed up a little. Since the place was so small, Callum would be staying at a hotel across the street, but she still wanted him to think she had it all together. Plus, she had to impress his guest. Whoever it was.

Sometime between mid to late-afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Clementine was sitting on the living room floor in her pink dress and looked towards the door at the noise. Florence ran down the hallway and opened the door hurriedly, taking her brother into her arms the second she saw him. Callum wrapped his arms around her back and picked her up off the floor a little.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Florence squealed, separating from him after a moment, her hands on his arms. She only then noticed the boy slightly behind Callum. He had deep natural brown hair, streaked with blonde that was set in a coiffed style away from his face. When his eyes met hers, she was startled by the vibrant blue that stared back at her. His full lips broke into a charismatic smile and he rested his arm on Callum's shoulder.

"Flora, this is Ivan. My boyfriend." Callum said slowly, as if he was nervous to hear her response.

Florence's eyes widened. After dating and being heartbroken by Aidan, she never expected Callum to want to go down that path again, but she was so happy he was comfortable enough – even in LA with their parents – to be true to himself.

"Lovely to meet you." Florence beamed.

"You as well." Ivan smiled, a hint of some European accent braided in his voice.

"Well, come on in." Florence gestured them farther into the apartment. Clementine was crawling down the hallway and Florence went to pick her up but Callum swooped in and picked her up himself.

"My sweet niece." Callum beamed, pressing kisses to her chubby cheek. "I missed you!"

"She's beautiful." Ivan smiled, reaching a finger out to tickle her stomach. Clementine shrieked with laughter, curling into Callum.

"Isn't she?" Callum held her securely.

"How was the flight?" Florence asked, sitting on the couch.

"It was fine." Callum shrugged, placing Clementine on the living room rug and kneeled down with her. "How are you holding up? I'm sorry I couldn't come back earlier."

"Yeah." Florence looked down at her hands in her lap. "It was really hard for the first few days – weeks even."

She caught Ivan's concerned gaze from the floor, Clementine holding onto his index finger and trying to put it in her mouth. "My boyfriend left me." Florence explained quickly.

"Oh no, I'm sorry." Ivan frowned.

"He was a-" Callum covered Clementine's ears, "fucking asshole anyway."

When he removed his hands Clementine giggled, still holding onto Ivan's finger. Florence chuckled lightly at Callum's bluntness.

"But I've been fine now. Grayson has been around a lot. He's really amazing and Clementine really likes him." Florence felt herself smiling again at only the thought of him.

"Ah, yes, the infamous boy. Nay, man." Callum teased.

"Callum George!" Florence gasped, cheeks flaring red. Ivan laughed.

"I haven't even met the guy and I know he's better than Matt." Callum shrugged. "So go on about him all you want. Besides, I like knowing someone out here is making you happy."

"I like knowing someone out there is making you happy." Florence winked. It was Callum's turn to blush as Ivan beamed, looking between the twins. Florence watched as her twin brother stared at his boy with nothing but admiration in his eyes and it made her smile. She truly was glad that Callum had found someone genuine to keep him busy, as he lived so far away in the world of luxury and their ridiculous parents, without his twin sister to keep him sane. Florence and Callum continued talking about their past months. When Clementine finally let go of his finger, Ivan reached across the rug to grab the colourful plastic rings, setting them in front of the nine-month-old. She wasn't interested in that as she had seen a glint of his silver necklace under his hoodie. Clementine climbed onto his lap. Florence looked over at her daughter just as she took two fistfuls of Ivan's sweater and pulled herself to her feet on her own, standing between his crossed legs.

"Oh my God!" Florence gasped.

"What?!" Callum and Ivan both jumped.

"She's never done that before!" Florence clasped her hands to her mouth. "She did that all on her own?!" she asked Ivan.

"Yeah. I wasn't even touching her." Ivan smiled, now holding her up gently by the waist. Clementine reached for his necklace with her tiny thumb and forefinger.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna cry." Florence whimpered, getting up from the couch and scooping up her daughter.

"My niece is so smart." Callum boasted, leaning back with his hands on the floor behind him. Clementine whined, reaching for Ivan again.

"I'm popular with the young crowd." Ivan smirked. Florence set her back on her feet and she fell back into Ivan's arms. Callum shuffled over and tickled her sides, making the baby laugh loudly.

"What time are we going out for dinner?" Florence asked, joining them on the rug.

"We told my brother that we'd meet at the restaurant for 6." Ivan said, still holding the baby as she played with his hoodie strings.

"Your brother?" Florence looked towards Callum.

"Yeah. He lives in the city, so Ivan hasn't seen him in a while either. We figured we'd all go out together. If that's okay with you." Callum said.

"Yes, of course. That's fine." Florence nodded. She took out her phone and checked the time; 4:56. "I should get the baby ready to go."

"I'll help." Callum offered, grabbing the baby from Ivan and standing up. The DiCaprio twins headed to the nursery and Ivan excused himself to the bathroom.

Once alone, Callum jumped on the opportunity to ask his sister what she thought of his partner.

"He seems really amazing, Cal." Florence answered honestly. Callum had Clementine on the change table, getting her freshened up before their dinner.

"Really?" Callum asked nervously.

Florence set her hand on her brother's shoulder, "Really. I'm so proud of you."

"Proud of me?" Callum frowned. "Why?"

"After all the stuff with Aidan I wasn't sure how you'd move on from that."

At the sound of his name, Callum tensed a little.

Florence continued, "But you're really finding yourself and feeling comfortable enough to go out and find someone who you like and who likes you and who treats you right. I want you to be happy."

Callum smiled at her, "Thank you."

"How are you holding up with mother and father?" Florence passed him the dress and he started getting the baby into it.

"I'm at school a lot and I stay late as often as I can. And I'm at Ivan's as much as I can too. They don't know about him of course." Callum explained.

"Do his parents?"

"They do. I haven't met them though. They live in Spain."

"That's the accent." Florence snapped her fingers. "I knew I recognized it."

Callum laughed, "You should have. Our childhood piano teacher had the thickest Spanish accent."

"Oh my God, I totally forgot about that!" Florence snickered at the memory, shaking her head. Callum picked up Clementine, setting her on his hip.

"And I'm expecting to meet Grayson at some point this week too." Callum winked.

"We aren't even dating." Florence mumbled.

"Yet." Callum patted her cheek on his way to the door.

Ivan was sitting in the living room again when they left the nursery. Right away, the boys started getting their shoes on. Florence worked on gathering the diaper bag, Clementine's food, and the stroller before getting herself into her shoes. Callum buckled Clementine in her stroller and they all headed out.

It was only a five-minute walk to the restaurant. It was a sunny evening and the sun was only just starting to dip behind the skyscrapers of downtown Toronto. Callum and Ivan walked ahead of Florence, hand in hand. It made her smile. It felt so good to see her brother happy.

The restaurant was eccentric; mosaic stained glass and antique objects placed around the dining room. It was a staple Toronto restaurant – Callum said he had suggested it as Ivan had never been before. Callum had made the reservation, so he checked them in at the host stand. Clementine peered around the bustling area with wide eyes from her stroller, so many random antique objects for the baby to admire. Ivan seemed to be doing the same.

"Someone from your party is already here. Right this way." The hostess led them through the tightly packed restaurant, under the skylight that was shaded by fake ivy strands that were laced throughout the ceiling. As they approached their table, Ivan ran ahead to meet the boy that had jumped up from his chair.

"That's my boy!" they both screamed youthfully, embracing each other tightly. They quickly greeted each other in Spanish before they turned to Callum and Florence. 

Florence was surprised to see Ivan's carbon copy standing next to him. She had never seen twins who looked so identical. Grayson and his brother were identical but somehow looked nothing alike. This was almost overwhelming. Even still, Ivan's twin brother had softly styled hair – less dramatic than Ivan's intense coif – and rounder cheeks, but still the same blonde highlights and cheeky grin.

"Emilio, this is Callum. I've told you about him. And that's his twin sister Florence and her daughter Clementine." Ivan introduced, one arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Hey." Emilio smiled, going up on his tip-toes a bit to see into the stroller. Clementine stared right back at him, her fingers in her mouth.

The group sat down at their table, one set of twins on either side. Callum was across from Ivan and almost right away their hands were together on top of the table. Clementine was in a high chair at the head of the table.

"How old is she?" Emilio asked.

"Nine months." Florence responded, velcroing the bib around her daughter's neck.

"She's beautiful."

"Thanks." Florence blushed a little, never knowing what to say when people said that to her. Clementine took the green plastic spoon from the table and stuck it in her mouth. Emilio smiled at her, making the baby shriek with laughter.

"You're so loud, Clemmy." Florence chuckled, opening the baby food jar before peeling the spoon from her daughter's tight grip. She gave the puree a quick stir before offering a scoop to the baby. Florence peeked over at Emilio who had his menu open but was still making faces at the baby.

“So what are you doing here in the city while your brother is in LA?" Florence asked him.

"I'm a student at University of Toronto." Emilio said, finally looking towards her. She couldn't help but admire his ocean blue eyes. They contrasted his dark hair beautifully. "I'm majoring in Psychology with a minor in Spanish Studies."

"That's cool. Psychology always interested me in high school." Florence tried to clean up Clementine's mouth with the edge of the spoon.

"Yeah, it's pretty sweet." Emilio nodded. “Ivan and I first went to LA together but it wasn’t really my vibe. Plus UofT had some good reviews so I figured I’d give it a go. My brother wanted to stay in LA for modelling.”

“You look like more of the modelling type than him.” Florence blurted out.

“Oh really?” Emilio snorted.

“Just saying.” Florence played it off cooly, quickly feeding Clementine another spoonful.

“What do you do out here?” Emilio asked her.

Florence hesitated, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I mean, I don't go to school and I don't have a job. So, nothing.”

"Oh."

"I don't have anyone to take care of Clementine so I stay at home with her. Callum helps me pay for the apartment and I have a couple friends here that help out when I need it too."

"Do you want to go to school?"

"Yeah. I was going to go to university for architecture."

"Now that's cool."

Florence couldn't help but laugh.

“If you guys are done flirting, we’re about to order.” Ivan called.

“We weren’t flirting!” Florence gaped.

“Your blushing says otherwise.” Ivan smirked playfully.

“Oh, leave her alone, babe.” Callum laughed. Emilio hid his pink cheeks behind his menu. Florence bit her lip, scraping the bottom of the jar before giving Clementine the last bite.

The waiter came over and they placed their orders; Florence having to scan the menu quickly as she had been preoccupied with the baby. Once the waiter left, Florence passed her a plastic set of keys to play with.

“So, Florence,” Ivan started, “tell me some savage stories of Callum as a kid.”

“Savage?” Florence laughed. “I don’t know about that. Savage wasn’t quite our lifestyle.”

“Disappointing.” Emilio tisked.

“Tell us about it.” Callum rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Florence thought for a moment, “our parents were really strict so honestly there’s nothing very good. But in the last year of high school, Callum and I threw a massive party while they were out of town.”

“How was that?” Ivan prodded.

“Someone almost broke our father’s prized award, our parents came home early and busted us, and Florence got knocked up.” Callum answered for her. Ivan and Emilio laughed loudly.

“Callum George.” Florence said through her teeth. She then retaliated with, “Callum punched a guy in the face within the first couple weeks of moving here.”

“Now that’s pretty savage.” Emilio nodded.

“He was harassing...” Callum stopped mid sentence, his gaze falling to the table.

“One of our friends.” Florence continued for him, taking his hand in hers under the table. “So he deserved it.”

“That’s pretty savage and all but no one can beat Emilio’s roof jump three years ago.” Ivan boasted.

“Roof jump?!” Florence gaped at the boy across the table from her.

“He almost broke his back!” Ivan added.

“Okay, it wasn’t that bad.” Emilio scoffed. “I jumped from the roof of our LA house we were staying at into the pool. Just couldn’t walk for a few days. No big deal.”

“Holy shit.” Florence breathed. “You definitely beat our story.”

“And that was only one.” Emilio chuckled. Clementine threw the keys on the table and he picked them up for her.

“We always got into trouble.” Ivan finished.

“Never us. We were forbidden.” Callum said.

“I can tell just by the way you talk about your parents.” Ivan replied softly. He then directed to Florence, “We were raised in a poor family just outside Barcelona so we could run around and do anything really.”

“And now you’re living in LA and Toronto and are successful.” Florence said.

“Yep.” Emilio smiled. He and his brother high fived. Dinner arrived to their table a few minutes later and they all ate in silence for a bit. Clementine started getting fussy so Florence picked her up out of the high chair and sat her on her lap, bouncing her on her knee a bit to keep her entertained. Even still, Clementine shifted uncomfortably, whining on the verge of tears.

“Here, I’ll take her for a walk.” Callum offered, setting his napkin on the table and pulling the baby to him.

"No, Cal, you have to eat." Florence protested lightly.

"It’s alright. I can eat later. I missed my girl." Callum got up from the table, Clementine calming down quickly in his arms. "We’re gonna go look at the pretty things?" he cooed to her.

"I'm coming too!" Ivan jumped up and they walked off together. Florence smiled lightly and looked back to Emilio. He had pasta sauce over his face like Clementine did. They made eye contact and he froze guiltily for a second before they laughed and he grabbed his napkin. They fell into a momentary silence.

"How is it for you, living so far away from your brother?" Florence asked.

"It's really hard." Emilio admitted, absentmindedly stirring the pasta around his plate with his fork. "I can't sleep sometimes even. It's ridiculous honestly, we've been living on our own about a year now and it's still no easier than the first day."

"I feel the same way." Florence agreed. "I have some friends out here. But Callum was always my go-to and my best friend."

"I have a few friends here I guess but I rarely ever see them. We're not close. Everyone else is in Spain."

"Can you believe that the only 'friends' I have out here are Callum's ex-boyfriend's family and his friends?" Florence snorted.

"That's rough." Emilio chuckled.

“Apart from one but...yeah...it’s a little weird.”

Emilio simply smiled at her. 

"We should stay in touch." Florence said. "When we miss our brothers we can cry and watch movies together."

"I like that idea." Emilio agreed. He took out his phone and passed it across the table to her. Florence typed in her number and handed it back to him just as the rest of their group returned.

"Mama!" Clementine squealed, reaching to her from Callum's arms.

"I don't know how you do it." Florence said to her brother as she took her daughter from him. Clementine was sat on her lap and reached onto the table. Florence pushed anything potentially dangerous out of reach, tuning into the conversation that was arising once again.

They finished on a good note, dessert shared amongst the four – Clementine even had a bite – and soon it was time to leave. Ivan hugged his brother goodbye; they would be seeing each other the following day for some much needed quality time. Emilio hugged Callum and Florence goodbye too. Florence could have sworn hers lingered a bit longer than necessary but she wasn't complaining. Callum and Ivan parted ways to their hotel and Florence was left to go home alone again. Clementine was fast asleep by then and she was tucked into bed minutes later.

When Florence finally returned to her bedroom for the night, her phone was flashing from her bedside table. She walked over and sat on the side of her bed as she opened the text message.

It was really nice meeting you tonight. I can't wait to see you again.

[renaroo]

17, JLI

A/N: I literally squealed with delight, it would’ve been embarrassing if I was embarrassed by my passionate love for these losers lol

Best Boy

She has a childish instinct to try.

That, more than anything, is what Ice thinks is her ultimate downfall. Ice has allowed many things to happen to her, happen to the League, all in the name of making solid attempts toward something bigger and better. In this childish hope and dream that when all things are equalized, she can push their rather infamous luck toward being something greater than it used to be.

And Ice really wants this to work. She wants it to work more than she wants the recent photoshoot. She wants it to work more than she wanted her date with Guy to work out. She wants it to work more than she wants to see what Booster and Beetle have planned when the reruns of Next Generation hit too many same-old notes.

Most of all, Ice wants to be able to keep him in her room, too. If Martian Manhunter allows it.

***

It starts as a team-up with Green Lantern ironically.

No, not that Green Lantern. And not him either. And she’s never met that one.

She doesn’t say anything about it when she initially leaves the embassy with him because Guy is always strange about any of them hanging out with other Green Lanterns. It’s rather cute in Ice’s opinion — he likes being their one and only Green Lantern.

But this Green Lantern, the first first one, reminds Ice of her grandfather in some ways, he mentions that he likes her advertisement pictures and that he has a daughter of his own in the industry. So how can Ice not help him out with a mystery involving the fashion industry?

When Fire gets back from her European shoot, she’s going to be so jealous that Ice got to be both a superhero and supermodel in one single adventure.

It doesn’t take that much detective work — nothing to call Elongated Man or Batman about — but at least part of that is because of their help.

Ice, being from another country, has never heard of having a super pet before this adventure.

His codename is Wonder Dog and his civilian name is Streak.

He is the best boy in the world and Ice, in fact, loves him.

Which makes it easy for her to answer Alan Scott’s last-minute request to provide supervision for his furry partner while he goes on a business trip.

***

She goes to Blue Beetle first because, if anything, she figures Blue Beetle has the most experience trying to cover up things from the rest of the League.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, arms folded to his chest, starring intently at the short, furry corgi like it owes him money.

Streak licks Blue Beetle.

“Yeah, I’m a cat person,” Blue Beetle says.

Ice decides immediately that Blue Beetle is no longer someone that should ever be trusted.

Aghast, she pulls Streak into her arms and twists away from Blue Beetle.

“Do you know how many artificial potted plants that thing is going to pee on in this building?” Blue Beetle asks. “At least ten! That’s ten spots of urine stinking up the embassy alongside whatever smells are coming out of Guy’s room.”

“Wonder Dog would never!” Ice gasps. “He’s a… he’s a good boy!”

Blue Beetle holds up his hands and pulls a face. “Hey, it’s your funeral when J’onn finds out.”

“If you tell him, I’m going to tell him about the diet Chacos!” she hisses at him.

Immediately, Beetle puts a hand to his heart. “You wouldn’t!”

“I will!” She promises. “Anything for Streak.”

She receives a lick on her cheek and she knows, at that moment, she will die for this dog if she must.

***

When Guy scoops up Streak and cradles him like a baby, Ice feels her heart melt. He even rubs the good boy’s stomach and nuzzles nose to nose with the Wonder Dog.

Beyond pleased, Ice practically hugs herself and looks at Guy.

“I always knew you were good, Guy,” she informs him happily. “And look at his little face, Streak agrees! And is happy!”

“Sure he is!” Guy says back, full of bluster. “I grew up with dogs. My sister and I always took care of them, couldn’t count on the ol’ man to. Just as well, huh, li’l guy?”

No matter what others say about Guy, no matter what Ice even knows about Guy, she has always seen the goodness there beneath the surface. She feels so validated and warmed to see the evidence of it so clearly on display before her now.

“Will you help me keep him in the embassy until Alan gets back?” she asks sweetly.

Guy, immediately, stiffens and looks at her. “Alan? Who’s Alan? Are you seeing him? How tall is he? I bet I can fight him.”

Ice huffs, rolling her wrist at Guy’s antics. “You know Alan! Alan Scott. He went on a business trip and needed someone to watch after Streak.”

A strangely judgmental look grows over Guy’s face as he looks down at Streak. It hardens. “This is Alan Scott’s dog? The first — unsanctioned, mind you — Green Lantern who uses the Starheart instead of an Oa issued ring?”

Frowning, Ice tries to make sense of Guy’s serious tone and expression. Is this the more serious side of Guy she’s always known was there? The one that trains in the Green Lantern Corps and acts as an officer of the peace in space? To be frank, she���s never been acquainted with him.

“I don’t know about much of any of that, but Alan seems very nice and noble and Streak helped us solve a mystery last week,” she explains.

For a moment, Guy nods and that seems to be the end of whatever interrogation is happening until Guy lets go of Streak. The dog yelps but is caught by a bright green construct that looks and is emerald green cuffs and chains around the dog’s paws and tail.

“Yeah, I’m taking this guy in for questioning,” Guy says.

Working on instinct, Ice lets out a shriek and blows Guy back with a gust of wind, freezing his ring hand until he drops the construct.

“You will do no such thing!” Ice declares, scooping up Streak and stomping out of the room.

“OW! Ice! TORA! It was a joke, are you kidding me!?”

Ice, though, is not kidding. And she doesn’t look back as she marches through the embassy to her next stop.

***

Fire is her best friend and, when she’s not blowing her top, she’s the closest thing Ice can find in the embassy to a voice of reason.

She’s back from a trip that went well, so Fire isn’t really near blowing her top. But she is skeptical and standoffish toward Streak.

Ice finds this rather insulting to her newfound canine loyalties.

“Is it going to be tearing up the furniture and,” Fire lets out an exasperated noise as she waves her hands, “my clothes or something?”

“He’s a Wonder Dog, Bea,” Ice admonishes. She lowers to her knees on the floor and pampers the corgi. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

Immediately, Streak hones in on the scrunchie around Ice’s wrist and begins timidly grazing his front teeth on it. Then, after a few misses, he grabs the scrunchie in his canines and pulls it off of Ice’s arm entirely. It’s one swift motion, very well-rehearsed.

There’s not enough willpower within Ice to resist the giggle that bubbles to the surface as a result.

Once again, Fire looks unimpressed. “You’re just going to let him tear that up?” she asks.

“It’s his scrunchie,” Ice answers.

“Oh, really? For how long?” Fire presses, bending over enough to get a full view of Streak viciously shaking his head, scrunchie in tow.

Using a babying tone, Ice wiggles her shoulder at Streak playfully. “For as long as his little heart has wanted it!”

Groaning, Fire pinches at the bridge between her eyes. “This isn’t going to end well, and considering I’m still paying off the fire damage I did to my room, I do not want to be roped into this,” she informs Ice. Like a traitor.

“Then you will not be his Auntie Bea,” Ice says, pulling Streak into her arms to the dog’s playful dismay.

“Somehow I feel like we’ll both live with that,” Fire rolls her eyes.

***

“Should it be in the kitchen?” Booster Gold asks over the loud blender.

“He,” Ice corrects.

“What?” Booster yells a little louder over the blender, though he doesn’t stop mixing his shake.

“He not it!” Ice repeats.

Post-workout Booster is sweaty and not wearing his signature goggles, so Ice gets to see his squinting confusion at her. At long last, he turns off the blender and then points at Streak who is patiently sitting right on top of Booster’s feet. “Dog. Should he be in the kitchen?”

“Where else would he eat?” Ice asks pointedly.

“Probably your room under the bed in hiding,” Booster jokes, pouring the contents of the blender into his awaiting glass. “Protein shake! You want some?”

“I am now vegetarian,” Ice says, staring seriously at Booster and completely ignoring the angry rumblings from her stomach.

Licking the sides of the blender for the drips of shake, Booster smirks at her. “Since when? You had bacon yesterday.”

“This morning,” she says, crossing her arms. “I will never harm an animal again! Wonder Dog has shown me the light!”

“Okay,” Booster snorts. “The carnivore inspired this?”

“I thought you were complaining the other day about twenty-first-century diets,” Ice argues. “You said it was weird that we ate so much meat.”

“It’s weird because of what it did — is doing,” Booster quickly corrects himself, “to the environment at the level you — we — make it. That was my point. And grease. You guys ruin things with overcooking. But we need protein. And it’s weird that you guys made fun of me saying meat-farming is going to go away, but you meet one admittedly adorable dog and you’re completely changing your lifestyle.”

“It’s just meat,” Ice says, hugging herself to muffle the growls.

“I meant your lifestyle of not being homeless since J’onn is definitely going to throw both your adorable butts out on the street when he finds out,” Booster jokes. He pats Streak on the head and Streak humors him by acting appreciative.

That’s okay because Ice knows that Streak knows to pee on Booster’s bed later.

***

Really, it’s only a matter of time before she opens her door and sees the Martian Manhunter on the other side.

Ice still dares to think it should have been longer, but then again J’onn is a telepath.

And also not a fool.

“May I come in?” he asks, red eyes already honed in on the corner of Ice’s bed where Streak is curled up napping.

Puffing out her bottom lip, Ice steps aside and watches as the martian crosses her room and rather quickly begins patting on the dog. She folds her arms self-consciously and watches.

“He’s a good boy,” she defends unsaid accusations.

“Perhaps,” Martian Manhunter agrees and looks back to Ice almost softly. “I know of this dog, he belongs to the original Green Lantern.”

Perking up, Ice steps forward. “Yes! He is Wonder Dog! Mister Scott needed someone to watch him while he had business out of town! And we had just teamed up together and got along so well…”

He stands tall, towering over Ice as he looks down at her. There isn’t the darkness and fear that Batman inspires but Ice does feel a large dose of anxiety wash over her.

“Ice, we cannot keep animals on the property permanently,” he informs her.

Deflating, Ice bites nervously on her nail. “I know.”

“However, taking into account the considerable merit of our current houseguest, and the temporary status of his stay, it is only fair to amend the rules,” J’onn says kindly.

Ice squeals as she throws her arms around him. “Thank you!”

“It seems only right, considering the rules are basically meaningless in this embassy by now,” he says more grimly with a sigh. “I believe we will have more luck house training Wonder Dog than Beetle, Booster, or Guy Gardner.”

***

When Alan Scott comes, Ice isn’t ready. In fact, she’s the furthest thing from ready. She considers freezing her bedroom door shut and staying inside with Streak forever.

Fire assures her that, if that happens, Fire will be forced to burn the ice away and it could hurt their friendship. Even Streak isn’t worth that, Ice decides.

The boys are all lined up in the foyer with Alan Scott, Beetle has popcorn, like they’re anxious to see some big production.

The moment Ice walks down the stairs with Streak, she can feel the little guy struggling in her arms.

Lowering herself on the bottom step, Ice feels her lip quivering and she holds Streak even tighter. “You are such a good boy, and I know you’re gonna miss me just as much as I miss you,” she begins to say.

Wonder Dog earns his name with a well-placed kick to Ice’s chest, twisting himself like a noodle out of her grips, and barking as he races down the foyer to his owner who is happily awaiting him. Ice isn’t sure if she’s ever seen a tail wag so much before.

“Thank you, Miss Olafsdotter,” Alan says, chuckling as he bends over and latches an old fashion clip leash onto Streak’s leather collar. “I know Streak was on his best behavior — it’s the only mode he has — but it was good to feel assured he was with good people.” He gives skeptical glances to the snickering trio beside him and grips the leash a little tighter. “Mostly good people. I’ll send you a check for your troubles.”

“Whoa, check? She gets paid for this?” Booster pipes up.

“We have dog sitting services, too, y’know,” Beetle begins selling as he follows Alan out the door.

Beside Ice, Fire puts a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, he’s gone now, you don’t have to keep up the brave face.”

Before Fire is even done, Ice bursts into tears and flings her arms around Fire’s waist.

“Oh, boy,” Fire says, patting Ice’s head.

“Aw, Tora, don’t worry, I can get you a better dog,” Guy says, attempting to stroll up while avoiding Fire’s direct line of attack.

Martian Manhunter’s head snaps in Guy’s direction. “No more pets in the embassy.”

“Okay, but what if we’re cutting you in on the dog sitting business?” Beetle asks while Booster is already looking through craigslist.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ice sobs, “there is no better dog than Wonder Dog.”

“Okay, that dog slept for eighteen hours a day and wouldn’t even eat scraps on the floor, only in his little silver dish,” Fire reminds her. “It was the most bourgeois dog ever.”

“And I loved him,” Ice continues, rubbing at her eyes.

Martian Manhunter actually looks pained by Ice’s crying. “I will take another look at our leasing agreement,” he mutters.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

“I’m Spider-Man” (Peter Parker x Male Reader)

It’s Tom Holland’s birthday and I (finally) finished something yesterday.

Partially requested by: @rklf001

Peter tries to tell you that he's Spider-Man.

Word count: 1537

"I'm Spider-Man. I am... Peter. I. Am. Spider-Man. I am Spider-Man. I'm... gay. I'm bi. And I'm Spider-Man."

Peter groaned and hit his head on the mirror, sighing as he pushed himself back from it. He stared at his face in the mirror, sighing and trying a few more times.

"Peter, dinner!"

He left his room in defeat to wash his hands then went back to the kitchen to help set the table.

"Peter, are you still trying to talk to that friend of yours about being in love with him?" Aunt May asked with her hands on her hips.

He jumped, almost hitting his elbow on the counter as he was grabbing forks and plates.

"What? No! May, of course I don't like him that way," he sputtered out, rushing back to the dining table mostly to hide his face.

"I know you do. And I heard you in there," May said, placing a bowl down in the middle of the table. "You're trying to tell him you're Spider-man? Why?"

"I just... he's one of my few... only friends and I want to be able to trust him with that information. Ned already knows, I just have to tell (Y/N) and MJ," he said.

May smiled and put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb on his shirt as he looked away.

"Hey, look at me. Would you rather he found out the way Ned and I did? I mean, it was kind of funny but you know that you'll have to explain a lot more. And I'm sure he'll still be one of your best friends."

Peter started to smile and gave her a hug.

"Thanks, May."

"Take him to a museum."

"May!"

You and Peter were sitting on a large rock overlooking northern Central Park. The sun was up, and it was still morning. Families were playing together on the large patches of grass.

"Look. That kid just did a backflip!" you laughed in awe. "That's so cool."

Peter shifted, giving you an awkward smile when you turned to him.

"What's up?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, and turned your body to face him more.

"(Y/N), I... I am-"

"In love with me?"

His eyes widened as he stared at you in shock.

"I- no, that's- no!" he stuttered. "I mean it's true but that's not what I wanted to tell you!"

You laughed and put your hand on his shoulder.

"It's fine. MJ and Ned kept telling me and I didn't believe them. But then you started saying something that sounded like that so... I'm sorry," you sighed, putting your hand down and giving him an apologetic look.

"Do you wanna go to the Met?" Peter blurted out.

"Like, as a date or...?"

"Yeah."

"Then let’s go!"

"Peter, look at this!"

You pointed at a piece of armour and started to explain it.

"So, the Japanese were the first ones to use leather armour. It was much lighter than the metal armour the Europeans used, and it's tough so you can't get a sword through it that easily. And over here is the longbow the Mongols used! So much more efficient than crossbows, obviously with skill. Also, their system made a lot more sense. Europeans had a monarchy, but these guys did it by how useful with battle skill they were."

Peter listened to your rant and followed you as you speed walked to the different objects through the entire museum that caught your eye. You kept going through about four different sections before he stopped you.

"Sorry, but we've spent like 3 hours in these 4 sections. Do you wanna go get lunch and then come back?"

You checked your phone before awkwardly laughing, agreeing with him as you headed for the exit.

"I got carried away, I'm sorry," you said.

"No, it's okay. It was fun watching you get so hyper. That was like me when I- when I, uh, helped Ned with that Lego Death Star set," Peter replied.

"You hesitated."

"Wha- I mean it though!"

"Whatever you say, Peter."

After a lunch you shared in the park, you went back to the museum, this time on the left side. Once again, you were giving him just some of your knowledge of the historical subjects until you both reached the Greek and Roman sculptures section.

"I've read all the Percy Jackson books. I got this," you bragged, holding a hand out to Peter.

"I've read them multiple times through," Peter retorted. "I bet we don't even have to look at the plaques."

You both gave each other knowing glances before beginning at the first piece of art, immediately naming the Greek mythological character in it before giving each other a high five and laughing.

"Oh my god, we're actually nerds," you laughed.

"This could only be worse if we played Mythomagic," he responded, moving to the next piece.

"Maybe someone should make that game," you mumbled.

"Dionysus!"

"Dude, I was distracted! Not fair."

You both burst into another fit of giggles but moved on quickly when people around you began staring. As you continued through the many sculptures, Peter's hand found yours and you smiled just for a moment. Then he pulled you along and you couldn't stop smiling as you both continued to compete to name each character.

Once it was about 5 PM, you both exited the museum to the subway, hoping to get to Peter's place to hang out with Ned and MJ.

"Hey, uh, (Y/N)?" he suddenly said once you were both seated in the train car.

"What's up?" you answered, leaning in a little closer to hear him talk over the train's noise.

"I didn't meant to tell you that I really liked you romantically and that I wanted to take you out on a date. I mean, not today. I was planning to tell you that I... I am..." Peter trailed off.

He opted to take both your hands and fumble with them.

"Peter?"

"Well, first, I just want to say that today was really, really nice. And you were really cute today just talking about all the history and art stuff you know, not that you're not always cute. I just don't want your view of me to change when I tell you this one thing."

You furrowed your eyebrows before giving him a reassuring smile.

"You can tell me," you said quietly, squeezing his hands.

"(Y/N), I'm Spider-Man."

The rumbling train hid his voice from the rest of the world, but you heard him clearly.

"I-I'm sorry, what? You're joking, right?" you asked in shock, studying his face for any sign that he was lying.

"That's what I wanted to tell you earlier but you cut me off," he admitted, giving you a guilty look.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I mean, I guess I believe you? I don't really have proof for why not."

The train stopped at your station and he let go of one of your hands for both of you to leave, and you smiled at the fact that your hand was being held by a boy you had a massive crush on before remembering what you were just told. You both did a bit of a speedwalk to his apartment, all the while you peppering him with questions about being Spider-Man, his powers, how he hid his identity (to which he answered "I don't know" and he quickly pulled you into his room and shut the door.

He opened his bag and took his clothes off, everything but his boxers.

"What the- Peter!" you scolded.

He pulled the familiar red and blue outfit onto his body. It was extremely loose and seemed to just be a bad cosplay, but then he pressed the center and it tightened onto his slim body. He then reached in and pulled out two cylindrical objects out and the famous mask.

"You... I guess you are Spider-Man," you mumbled.

"I guess I am."

You took the mask, inspecting it and seeing the "face" of the person who had saved hundreds of people ever since he first appeared.

"I just wanted to be able to trust you with this. Ned found out by accident and so did May, so I wanted the person I really, really liked that I am, uh, Spider-Man," Peter quietly said, fumbling with what you figured were his web shooters. “By the way, I can do a backflip.”

"Well, I'm glad you told me. All those things."

You pulled him into a hug, enjoying the embrace of someone you cared about deeply.

"I should take this off. MJ and Ned are coming over and MJ doesn't know."

"Right, right."

You both reluctantly pulled back and he put his regular clothing back on, shoving his suit into his closet as you both smiled at each other. The ringer that let you know someone was downstairs rang and he suddenly leaned over and pressed a kiss to your cheek. He rushed out his room to answer it, and you blushed as you watched him leave. It seemed that you needed to go on more dates with him if you wanted more of those kisses.

[grimelords]

Hello I finished my July playlist a week ago but when I went to post it tumblr was down, and then I just plumb forgot! Anyway, here it is - properly sequenced this time for a very special listening experience that seamlessly delivers you from disco heaven to black metal hell and everything in between. Also I’m thinking of making these playlists a tinyletter that people can subscribe to that comes out on an actual schedule, rather than me posting them at a random time weeks after they’re finished. Is that something you’d be interested in? Who knows. Check back next month! Anyway, here goes:

listen here

Stay Away From Me - The Sylvers: You know when you’re listening to a song and the sample is super hot but the rest is just ok, so you think to yourself well why don’t I just listen to the original instead? That’s what happened to me with Final Form by Sampa The Great. That song is good but it’s also kind of not doing enough to convince me not to just listen to this super hit by The Sylvers instead. A fun thing with this song is to try to count how many instruments you can hear because it is surprisingly densely arranged for some reason. There’s a xylophone back there going off if you listen.

Sizzlin’ Hot - Paradise: The same thing happened with this song and Sizzlin’ by Daphni. I think they were going for an Armand Van Helden style distillation of the pure essence of the song, sampling the hookiest part and speeding it up and thickening up all the percussion and all that, which can work amazingly but for me it just made me want to hear the original and so I have been all month. What’s so good about being alive now is that in most cases it’s just as easy to access music from 2019 as it is to access music from 1981 where an original copy is apparently going for $1000 on discogs. Every day I thank god for inventing mp3s and putting them on the ark.

Manaos (Canzone) - Fabio Frizzi and Crossbow: I forget how I came across this, I was going through random Fabio Frizzi soundtracks for some reason. I just love the concept of a disco song about escaping from vicious assailants. Funkily singing ‘God help us, if they catch us we all are gonna die.’ as spears fly past you.

Holding On - Julio Bashmore: I think this is one of my favourite pieces of sampling ever. The way the vocals in the background are cut they don’t even sound like vocals. They just a strange contextless textural sound that works so well before eventually revealing itself as vocals in the run before the drop. It’s just so good.

Weight Watchers - Parallel Dance Ensemble: First of all I love this disgusting bass sound. It sounds like two different indistinct bass lines playing at the same time and they both drowned. I’m also mounting a change.org petition to bring back this kind of extremely naff Tone Loc flow, it rocks.

Dance - ESG: I found this incredible band while I was looking for the rapper ESG and I’m so glad I did. Their song UFO is one of those songs that’s been sampled so many times you think of it as more of a sound effect than a song, like it comes preloaded on a drum machine everyone has or something, but it’s also a good template for ESG’s sound. Every ESG song I’ve heard so far goes like this: a straightforward beat that doesn’t change for the whole song, a functional bassline that doesn’t change for the whole song, and good old fashioned simple lyrics about dancing and having a good time that sound more like schoolyard clapping games than anything. It doesn’t sound like much but over the course of an album it adds up to this incredible sort of hypnotic post-punk funk that I cannot get enough of. It sounds like kids who have 1 idea making a whole album out of it because that’s exactly what it is and it’s great!

Crave You - Flight Facilities: I love how elementally simple this song is. The vocals are hypnotising enough so everything else just quietly supports it. The only part that stands out is the thick bass synth halfway through which makes the short sax solo at the and all the sweeter, a tiny little cherry on top.

You - Delta 5: Get a load of this band bio: “Initially inspired by the success of local heroes The Mekons and Gang Of Four, Leeds, England’s Delta 5 later emerged as one of the key figures of the feminist new wave. Formed in 1979 by vocalist/guitarist Julz Sale, fretless bassist Ros Allen and bassist Bethan Peters.” Just going to gloss over them having TWO bass players before they even have a drummer?? Absolutely amazing. I love this song because it’s such a specific, targeted fury. Imagine being the loser at your girlfriend’s gig when she launched into this one for the first time. ‘who’s got homebrew with lots of sediment?’ oh fuck that’s me ‘who took me to the Windham for a big night out?’ oh fuck that’s me ‘I found out about you’ oh FUCK

Siren - Gong Gong Gong: I love the way the bass works in this, just looping and layering different variations of this noisy, stationary riff on top of itself - steadfastly staying in the exact same place the whole song and growing in power the whole time as it sits in its stubbornness.

Changes - Antonio Williams and Kerry McCoy: This came up on my Discover Weekly and I completely fell in love with it, then I realised it’s Antwan and Kerry McCoy from Deafheaven which is extremely intriguing collaboration and fell in love even more. The vocals are so good. The pure broken-hearted anguish, and the super blunt delivery that progresses to straight up yelling by the end of it combined with the Radio Dept type instrumentation is just so powerful. This feels like it’s a song that could really be a life-changing piece of catharsis for everyone in a 5k radius done live.

Fuck A War - Geto Boys: Absolutely in love with the conceit of this song: rapping a whole song down the line to the army drafter. The incredible part being of course that Bushwick Bill would be able to dodge any draft easily, being as he was both a dwarf and blind in one eye.

God Make Me Funky - The Headhunters: I found a lot of great songs going through the samples list for We Can’t Be Stopped by Geto Boys and this is one of them. I have so much love for any song that takes its time like this: nearly two minutes to set the scene and somehow taking deadly seriously the very funny lyrical idea of desperately praying to god to PLEASE make you funky.  The way this song escalates is also amazing, moving from a hot groove that sits in place to a full-on saxophone meltdown that feels like god placing his finger on your forehead and saying ‘so you want to be funky, do you?’ in a scary voice.

Use Me - Bill Withers: Fortunately and unfortunately, because of how this song was in Anchorman and because I’ve seen Anchorman one million times I can’t listen to it without hearing the noise Ron Burgundy makes when he sees Veronica in the first few seconds. Anyway, this song is so horny. The part where he has to explain to his bro how good this shit is? Doing all kinds of weird dom shit like ‘getting him in a crowd of high class people and then acting real rude to him?’ Weird. And the escalation into the claps at BABY! is amazing, he’s just going off powered by horniness and god bless him for it.

America! I’m For The Birds - Nicolas Jaar: Unbelievably, the deluxe edition of Sirens is possibly superior to the original. It’s a whole new tracklist, new songs interspersed throughout rather than the usual ‘three new songs at the end’ and it really gives it a whole new feel. This song is my favourite of the new ones and it’s a song I had in my head for a solid week. A perfect song to sing to yourself because the lyrics are so indistinct that you just end up mumbling pleasantly exactly like he is.

Cable Guy - Tierra Whack: I’m finally catching up on Tierra Whack and everyone’s right: she rocks. The sheer restraint in these songs is amazing, they just get in and out with only the good parts and no bullshit. It reminds me a lot of To The Innocent by Thingy which is one of my favourite albums for the same reason - the economy of the songwriting just serves to amplify the feeling of it. They both have this total irreverence in the lyricism where the songs are kind of about nothing but they’re so short and heartfelt that you dig for the feeling underneath it.

No Drug Like Me - Carly Rae Jepsen: I’ve previously written that what I love the most about the Carly Rae Jepsen is how horny it is and I’d like to double down on that sentiment here. I love how slow this song is, it’s the perfect tempo between danceable and ‘fucking’.

Con Calma (Remix) - Daddy Yankee, Katy Perry and Snow: I’ve been on a european holiday for most of this month and I would like to report that across Spain, Portugal, Czech Republic, France and Germany this is the absolute song of the summer. It is completely inescapable and personally I can’t get enough. Informer is one of the greatest and strangest one hit wonders of all time (it’s also canada’s highest selling reggae song of all time and Snow is thusly named because he’s white) and I’m psyched to hear it reworked by Daddy Yankee like this. Katy Perry being on the crossover attempt remix isn’t a good sign for her new album but she kills it so maybe that’s all that matters.

Chase The Devil - Max Romeo and The Upsetters: Here’s the other half of my short lived dub phase from the end of last month. This is a good example also of how completely beguiling lyrics can still be so effective. I have no idea what he means by putting on an iron shirt but it rhymes and he’s saying it with conviction so I’m nodding!

Glass - Bat For Lashes: The new Bat For Lashes songs have got me revisiting Two Suns which is an all time great five star album and this is my favourite song from it. Maybe the most powerful opening track of all time, it does as much worldbuilding as most fantasy novels do in 1000 pages. In fact almost every line in this is a viable fantasy novel title. A Thousand Crystal Towers. The Hand Of The Watchmen. A Knight In Crystal Armour. A Cape Of Rainbow. The way she sings ‘to be made of glass’ is.. incredible. I love Natasha Khan and I cannot wait to see what she does next.

Unsquare Dance - Paddy Milner: In searching spotify for other interpretations of Unsquare Dance after getting obsessed with it last month I came across this absolutely bonkers version. It’s maniacal, it feels like you would be physically and mentally drained by the end playing it because I am just listening to it. Need a little lie down.

Gimme Some Skin, My Friend - The Andrews Sisters: My girlfriend has turned me onto The Andrews Sisters lesser known hits recently and this is the best one: a song from when high fives were a novelty that those wacky blacks over in Harlem town were inventing. Extremely odd but an undeniable banger. The thing about The Andrews Sisters is one of them was an absolute force of nature as a performer and the other two were complete wet blankets and it’s kind of funny they were together as a group for their whole career because anyone with eyes can see where the real star is. The way she sings ‘baby’ at 1:25, and that whole run really, is absolutely amazing and so much better than this extremely dumb song deserves.

Kids On The Run - The Tallest Man On Earth: The piano sound alone in this is just so beautiful. This song could be about anything at all and it would still make me cry, and luckily for me: it basically is!

King Of Spain - The Tallest Man On Earth: Good song I had in my head the whole time I was in Spain. It’s incredible that his voice is so good. It feels like if it was even the tiniest bit different, slightly rougher or tinnier he would be completely hilariously unlistenable but instead he’s amazing. Plus the fact that he leans into it with the purposefully lo-fi trebly production is just so confident you can’t help but love it.

Romeo And Juliet - The Indigo Girls: A great cover I wasn’t aware of before that I heard in this great documentary Wildwood I was watching https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOWxnh012J0. The way she absolutely flies off the handle and nearly tears the song down around her near the last chorus is pure power and I love people who can do that in an acoustic song without it feeling overblown, just getting totally swept up in it and taking everyone along with you.

On The Bus Mall - The Decemberists: Definitely the number one song about gay teenage prostitutes who love each other and are optimistic against the odds.  

White Fire - Angel Olsen: This song feels like a piece of dark magic. It feels like a 4am moment of clarity, speaking everything true in a five minute monotone and then instantly falling back to sleep with only a dim memory in the morning.  

Glass Eyes -JW Ridley: JW Ridley is a genius and I cannot wait to see what he does with an album. Every song he puts out seems to be better than his last. The central melody in this is just beautiful, and the whole thing has so much space in it it feels so much longer than 3 minutes. It’s like a song you can live in.

Nullarbor - Floodlights: I love how rough this song is, and driving across australia because you’ve got nothing else going on and want to rattle your own cage is a Huge mood.

Made Too Pretty (Audiotree Live Version) - As Cities Burn: I’m so glad As Cities Burn are back, because it means they get to do good shit like this Audiotree session where they absolutely killed it.

Dirty Hearts - Dallas Crane: I think I’ve put this on a playlist before for exactly the same reason: it’s a song I wake up with in my head fairly often for some reason and it’s a very fun slice of pub rock that doesn’t overstay it’s welcome.

Ruin This Smile - The Number 12 Looks Like You: Did you know The Number 12 Looks Like You have reformed after 10 years away and haven’t missed a step at all?? I’m salivating. This song is as good as anything they’ve put out before, and feels like it fits somewhere between Mongrel and Worse Than Alone which is fantastic news for me who always loved those a lot more than their earlier more explicitly grindcore stuff.

Nutrient Painting - Yellow Eyes: A special thanks to my friend and yours Powerburial for linking this song on his twitter. There’s something about the guitars in this song, in almost every riff, where it sounds like they’re playing backwards somehow. Like the structure of the melodies is backwards. It doesn’t make sense but that’s what it sounds like to me and it’s very disconcerting.

Jejune Stars - Bright Eyes: I think this an underrated Conor Oberst era, when he became a sort of buddhist for a while and wasn’t sad anymore but just observed earth from outer space instead. I also love the instrumentation of this song, Bright Eyes and blast beats a match made in heaven. Also the strange sample about pom’granite at the end is one of my favourite things ever. A very strange album to retire the Bright Eyes name on but a very good one too.

At The Bar - Dirty Three: When I was overseas I was thinking about cultural music, and Australia’s place in the world and things like that. I ended up thinking about Dirty Three who I think along with The Drones make the most distinctly Australian sounding music to me. Just the vastness they manage to conjure from such straightforward barebones instrumentation is incredible.

listen here

[nitewrighter]

Villains Want a Valkyrie Pt. 2

Continued from this fic

Also some references made to my fic “The Volskaya Incident.”

------

The Orca had barely touched down when Genji bounded out of it and raced out of the hangar.

“Genji--You still have to debrief--Genji!” Tracer called after him but Ana put a hand on her shoulder as Genji disappeared from sight.

The door to the watchpoint conference room slid open and Genji stood there, body tensed in some simultaneous state of exhaustion and pure adrenaline.

“Genji--” Jack started.

“Where was her security?” said Genji, his voice dark.

Jack gave a sharp look over at McCree, who was leaning against the conference table. “I told you not to tell him until after the debriefing.”

“He had a right to know,” said McCree.

“Where was her security?” Genji asked, his cybernetic hand clenching in a fist at his side.

“Two were found dead in bathroom stalls about an hour after her comm beacon cut out,” said Jack, “The other two never even made it out of their van. Talon apparently took advantage of a change in shifts.”

“Last known location?” said Genji walking in front of the screen which was blipping through security footage of Mercy at a hotel bar with a man who probably rivaled Reinhardt in size.

“According to satellite imaging, The helipad of Hotel Eupheme in Malta,” said McCree, “With the hotel security footage from the bar to the elevator, it doesn’t look like they harmed her.”

Genji seemed to relax slightly but only slightly. “I should have been there--” he started.

“You had a mission,” said Jack, “A mission you still have to debrief from.”

“To hell with the debriefing!” said Genji, “We need to get her back! Talon could be torturing her or-or--” Genji’s breath seemed to grow short from the very thought of it. McCree put a hand on his shoulder.

“For her sake I’m going to ask you to remain calm,” said Jack, “With her comm destroyed we don’t know where she currently is.”

“But we do know the dropship that took her isn’t designed for long flights like the Orca,” said McCree, “They’ll probably still be in the Mediterranean---”

“Venice?” said Genji.

“A bit obvious, but they’re fortified there, so it makes the most sense,” said Jack.

Genji sighed. “We should have had backup for her in Malta---she could have fought, run... bought some time...”

“Security for the conference seemed tight enough,” said McCree, “And we’re stretched thin as it is.”

 “They managed to grab her at the tail end of it. The infiltration was likely significantly more thorough than local authorities can report,” said Jack.

“They had to be threatening other scientists at the conference. She would have never gone with them, otherwise,” said Genji.

“Obviously Talon wants her for something--this isn’t a strike against us, this is acquiring her,” said Jack.

“Would’ve hit the watchpoint, otherwise,” said McCree.

“Another Widowmaker?” said Genji.

“Probably would have knocked her out if that were the case,” said Jack, “Easier to gaslight. Easier to brainwash if control over your own consciousness is taken from you. From the looks of it they need her conscious.”

“Sharp, even,” said McCree. 

“They need her as a doctor,” said Genji, “They need her as a scientist.”

“I’m afraid I have a pretty strong idea what for,” said Jack.

----

“No, I’m not insulted by this at all, thank you for asking,” said Moira as Gabriel Reyes grunted from his stretcher while about a dozen labtechs scrambled around, taking notes at various machines monitoring his condition.

“Nothing--ngh--wrong with bringing in a second opinion,” said Reaper.

“Except, if memory serves, you nearly killed that second opinion a few months ago,” said Moira, “I doubt she’ll be very forgiving about that.” 

“She understands biotics--”

“I understand biotics,” said Moira.

“She invented biotics as they’re used in modern medicine now,” said Reaper. 

“She put you in the state you are now!” Moira barked.

“Which means she might--” Reaper hacked a wet, rotten cough, “She might be the only one who knows how to stabilize it,” said Reaper.

“Or she could just inject you with an irradiated solution so Interpol can hunt you down like a dog while you’re falling apart,” said Moira.

“Which is why you’ll be keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t,” said Reaper.

Moira’s lips pulled back from her teeth with disgust. 

“I know you don’t like this. I don’t like this. Matter of fact, every nanite in my body is seizing up with repulsion at the very thought of it. Angela Ziegler is associated with the most physically agonizing few seconds of my existence. I can’t turn that off. I wish we weren’t resorting to this. I really do. But Moira,” he put a hand on her shoulder. Moira glanced down at it as his pinky crumpled off and hit the floor with a dull, mundane sound that didn’t really seem to reflect the direness of Reaper’s own state, “I don’t know what else to do. And I’m scared. And we wouldn’t be resorting to this if we knew you hadn’t exhausted every option in your own repertoire.”

Moira met his gaze, some stubbornness, some resentment still glinting in her heterochromatic eyes. The silver half-mask on her face did some work to conceal her expression, but they had worked together too long for Reaper to be unable to read her.

“I trust you,” said Reaper, “You’re going to be in control on this. I promise you that.”

Moira picked up his pinky, turning it over in her own long fingers before taking Reaper’s hand and attempting to put it back on. It met the knuckle joint with the clumsiness of a child figuring out how clay worked. It stuck, but both knew it couldn’t last. “She so much as sneezes wrong and we put a bullet through her head,” said Moira.

“She’s not walking out of this,” said Reaper, “We’re compromising too much just bringing her to Venice--let alone my medical status. As soon as I’m stable, she’s dead. It’s that simple.”

“And if you destabilize again?” said Moira, “If I can’t fix you next time and she’s gone?”

“Well if she manages to buy me a few weeks, a few days even, I can at least get things in order so we aren’t too destabilized when--”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Moira. The words fell out of her like a flinch.

“I’m just being practical,” said Reaper.

“I know--” said Moira, instantly regretting her own vulnerability. She folded her arms across herself, “I don’t...” she inhaled, “I don’t have many friends, Gabriel. I don’t have many people who understand me like you do. That’s the only reason I’m willing to chance this.”

“You’re a real trooper, O’Deorain,” said Reaper before hacking that rotten cough again.

Moira scoffed.

----

The world outside the bag over Mercy’s head was muffled. She felt noise-cancelling headphones pressing against the sides of her face through the cloth of the bag. The heavy cuffs dug into the skin of her wrists and made her forearms ache with the weight. She would argue that it was excessive but the truth was, it wasn’t. She knew Talon meant to disorient her--give her no sense of the dropship’s direction, no clue as to what Mauga and his compatriots were discussing--she could hear him and the other agents laughing at several points but judging from the general rhythm of the conversation, he was just being his apparently usual jovial self. There were five other Talon agents aside from him in the dropship--maybe six. 

“It’s Gabriel, isn’t it?” she said and the muffled conversation cut out completely.

She felt Mauga’s hands gently pull the headphones off of her head.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said.

“You wouldn’t bring me in if it was anything else,” said Mercy, “He’s dying, isn’t he?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said Mauga.

“If he died, there would be a power vacuum within Talon, wouldn’t there?” said Mercy, “You might benefit more from him dead than alive.”

“That’s not very ‘hippocratic oath’ of you,”said Mauga, a bit of mock scolding in his voice. He snorted. “I see what you’re trying to do here, Doc, and... I mean, good effort, but like... if I wanted Reaper dead I’d just toss you out of the dropship.... and I don’t see any wings on you right now. So I’m not really sure what your endgame here is--maybe try and mess up the ranks?”

 So, Reaper is dying, thought Mercy. 

There was a brief pause that Mercy assumed was Mauga looking at the other Talon agents for suggestions, but no suggestions arose.

“Maybe try and work something out with me?” said Mauga.

Mercy just huffed underneath her bag.

“I’m friendly, Doc, but I’m not that friendly,” said Mauga, a smile in his voice.

 A ripple of snickers rose up among the other Talon agents. They liked him. Or they were scared of him. Probably both. He had a strong rapport within the organization, faith in the abilities of his team. Good for him, not good for her. In all honesty she had expected Talon to be, organization-wise, a crumbling jenga tower of backstabbing, but if Mauga was anything to go by, getting out of this alive was looking more and more unlikely.

Mercy tensed up a bit more where she was sitting. The most chilling thing about Mauga talking about throwing her out of the dropship was the fact that he made absolutely no effort to sound threatening. It wasn’t a threat--neither was him saying that the doctors at the conference would die if she didn’t agree to get in the dropship. That wasn’t a threat and this wasn’t a threat, he was just stating what would happen.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the dropship touched down. They put the headphones back on over her bag and the sensory deprivation made it harder to count off the seconds into minutes into hours-with her own exhaustion from the conference and the steady constant stream of adrenaline in her own system, she couldn’t be sure if she fell asleep, either. Her whole world was blackness and all the muffled talking of Mauga and the other Talon agents blurred into each other no matter how hard she tried to focus and decipher it. She knew she could still smell the salt of the mediterranean, but it wasn’t Gibraltar. There was a bit of a stink to this new scent--old European city, she guessed--crumbling bricks and centuries-old waste management. She could smell salt and sewage as Mauga more or less just picked her up and set her on her feet on cement or stucco. Her feet wobbled in the heels she was wearing at the conference as she was prodded forward blindly, the world muffled around her. She heard Mauga’s voice, loud, jovial, and a clipped response, then a questioning tone from Mauga and another clipped, now slightly annoyed response. There was another sound from Mauga that sounded a bit like “If you say so” and the headphones were pulled off of her head, then the bag was pulled off of her face. She glanced around only briefly--she knew she was on the roof of a building, she knew she could hear the lapping of water and smell both sea and sewage rising up from below. Venice, she thought, It has to be Venice. Mercy didn’t have a chance to further confirm her observations, because she found herself staring up at a face that she wished wasn’t familiar.

“Ziegler,” said Moira, glaring down at her.

“O’Deorain,” said Mercy. Mercy inhaled and opened her mouth.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” said Moira.

“I--” Mercy started but then felt a gun barrel at her back from one of the Talon agents.

“I’m sure you had plenty of time to think up all manner of insults and threats for us on your trip over--probably nonsense about how ‘your team is coming for you’ and ‘I’m a disgrace to the name of all life sciences,’ but to be frank, I don’t care, and I don’t have the time,” said Moira, “So what’s going to happen is this: You’re going to walk after me. You won’t speak unless spoken to. You won’t attempt to resist. You’re going to comply or you’re going to suffer. Are we clear on that?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Mercy.

“I know you aren’t,” said Moira with a condescending tilt of her head, “I know the only reason you went along with Mauga was because people other than you were at risk and god knows you always have to be the martyr. You don’t have to be scared of me now, Angela. But test me, and we will find out what it takes to teach you that fear. Are we understood?”

Mercy spat in her face. Moira winced back at it only slightly, more from the surprise than the sensation, really. The majority of the spit landed on her silvery half mask.

“Slow learner,” muttered Moira, wiping off the spit with one hand and flicking it off her fingers, “Mauga? Hold her.”

“Welp,” Mauga shrugged and gripped Mercy by the shoulders as Moira pressed at the interior of her wrist and a violet light glowed at the base of her palm. 

Mercy barely had time to react before she felt Moira’s hand grip the point where her neck met her shoulder. A violet light, like some dark twisted version of Mercy’s own biotics’ healing tether suddenly wrapped around her upper torso in vein-like tendrils of plasma. She felt every cell in her body screaming and the sensation suddenly sent her back to Volskaya a few months back, Reaper looming over her, saying, “Just breathe, let it take you,” as she felt the life get sapped from every inch of her. She didn’t need a shotgun-blasted hole in her solarplexus to feel the death seeping into her, this time. She could feel the decay seeping in from the point where Moira’s hand gripped her. A sound fell out of Mercy, weak and rattling, half-strangled, half-crying out in agony as she sank to her knees and Moira stooped slightly to keep that contact.

“I can do worse than this, Angela,” said Moira as Mercy’s voice rose up in a weak wail, “I can do far, far worse than this.”

She broke her hand away and Mercy flinched into herself, her shoulders caving inward, her breath shuddering.

“Interesting,” said Moira, looking at her own hand and curling and uncurling her fingers inward, “You feel it more, don’t you?” she said, looking down at Mercy, “All those biotics in your body...I felt more of a reaction there--didn’t you? Like electricity through water. There’s usually a bit more... friction with other subjects.”

“You’re a monster,” said Mercy, her voice low. A birthmark-like splotch of bruise-purple stained the side of her neck where Moira’s hand had just been.

“I’m a scientist,” said Moira, “Now are you going to walk with me or are we going to have another teaching moment?”

Mercy stumbled up to her feet and Mauga released her to sway where she stood.

“Take me to him,” said Mercy.

“You don’t even know why you’re here--” said Moira.

“I know why I’m here,” pain wracked Mercy’s voice, “Take me to him.”

“Quicker learner than I thought,” said Moira, turning on her heel and heading toward a door into the building, “Mauga, do be a dear and snap her neck if she tries anything.”

“Gotcha, boss,” said Mauga with a small salute as they walked after Moira.

“See, Angela?” said Moira, gesturing at Mauga, “Professional.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush,” said Mauga.

[i-writeandread-blog]

A Portrait of a Tortured You and I - Chapter 2

Authors Note: I don’t edit or proofread usually when trying to get content out quickly, so I am aware there may be issues with my use of past and present tense. Please know I will fix any and all errors!

I was snapped back to reality, when I heard the horn blow on the ferry.  It was pulling up to the dock.  I was equal parts excited and nervous.  This wasn't my first rodeo, I had been to over 50 concerts, traveling all over the world to see Mars, I was also a Camp Mars alum... but this was the first time I had left the comfort of my home since I had been brutalized. 

Life has a funny way of surprising you though.  Since the attack, my sisters and I have made up.  I don't think we would have, had the unfortunate not happened.

Since I received the anonymous letter and check, I started working on getting better.  I still wasn't out of the woods.  The occasional panic attack and nightmare still happened.  I didn't know if they would ever go away, but they were becoming less and less.  I did have a few issues getting on the plane, but I used the breathing and grounding techniques that my therapist was teaching me.  And here I am, ready to finally enjoy life again.  I was so anxious to get to the island and get settled in. 

Some of the Echelon that I was still friends with were meeting up with me and it was all about strength in numbers.  That gave me comfort knowing that they had my back in the unlikely event I began to panic.

I looked around seeing many unfamiliar faces and was slightly confused.  Having traveled a lot to the European shows, I expected to recognize people I knew, but alas I didn't.  We began to load onto the ferry, everyone in a rush.  I felt a bump and a push and at first just chucked it off as everyone being so eager and not looking where they were going.  I felt an attack coming on and steadied myself against the railing.  "Okay, you've got this. Breathe in, now breathe out." I did my breathing exercises and didn't care if people thought I was crazy.  It subsided and I went to give myself a figurative pat on the back when I turned around and saw an unwanted familiar face.

"No one is buying it, freak!" She was laughing and acting so smug.

"What is your problem, Natalie?" I asked.  I honestly wanted to clear the air with her.  I knew I'd be seeing her at a ton of events going forward, as I had been for the last fifteen years.  I'd like to be able to enjoy our precious time with the band without having to constantly worry about problems with her.

"You honestly don't know, do you?"  She grinned, all the while looking at me very curiously.

"No. I've never had problems with you.  In fact, when you were writing that Jared smut, I was your biggest fan, always complimenting you on your writing.  Last years camp we even enjoyed some time together. So Nat, what's the deal?"

"You don't get to call me Nat anymore.  Just do me a favor and fuck off."  With that she stormed off into a group of girls all high five-ing her and congratulating her on a job well done being the biggest bully.  The saddest part of this was that Natalie is a 44 year old woman acting like a 20 year old.  It wasn't cute.  Not by a long shot.

I was on edge the whole ferry ride which lasted approximately an hour and twenty minutes, but felt much more like an eternity. My eyes were constantly darting around and anytime the boat rocked, I felt absolute dread. I was repeating a sort of mantra over and over in my head, “you’re gonna be in the presence of Mars soon. It’s going to be the best time!” I just knew once I was there and settled, that I would finally be able to let my guard down. I would be able to relax and have the best time.

We pulled up to the island and from the boat, I could see the beautiful art installations and hear the sounds of laughter mixed with music being played on loud speakers. I was home, in my element. Memories of previous camps creeping in my head and replacing all the negative ones from the past year. I watched as Natalie and her groupies got off the boat before me. I was wishing and trusting that she’d forget that I was here, now that she was also on the island.

Check in was literally right at the dock and there were many faces I recognized there, I sighed a great deal of relief. Walking up, I presented my ID, passport, and my booking number. A cheery girl many years my junior, took my items and said, “Hi, Catherine, how was your trip here?” I smiled, “it has been uneventful up to now.” I didn’t need to tell her all of the details, she was just making small talk. “Okay, you are in.... hmm. I don’t see your booking, that’s strange. Hold on a second.” She turned and walked off. I was growing more nervous by the second. Was my email from Shayla fake? But if so, how did I end up with $3,000 dollars? I started putting pieces together. Maybe the email was fake and my parents gave me the cashiers check. This would be so awful, if true.

I was told to step aside while someone else took over that computer and was checking more guests in. I couldn’t breathe and I started crying and shaking. The place I was supposed to feel most at home in was now not feeling so homey.

The girl came back and asked to see any printouts I had from AiW. I fumbled around looking for the email from Shayla and any correspondence directly from Adventures, I grabbed the first thing which happened to be the original confirmation when I bought the package in January.

She took it from me and cross referenced something on an iPad. “Hmmm, I see this booking existed and then it was canceled. But, I also see your name is on the list of attendees. We don’t finalize the list until all payments are made. This is odd. Do you have proof of payment?” I didn’t have that, but I was able to show her the email from Shayla after digging around once more in my bag. “Oh, well I guess this actually makes sense now! Okay, so you had the moonlight tent package. Let me find you one that’s available since we don’t know which one you’re supposed to be in, anyway.” She found one that had a bed free and loaded up my bags onto a golf cart. I told her I didn’t mind walking, and set out to find my tent.

I hadn’t seen any of my friends yet as many people were still being ferried over and we all had different boat times. It was peaceful. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, the music was a great selection of garden variety pop and rock. I was actually feeling great, now that it appeared the email wasn’t fake at all.

As I was walking, I caught a glimpse of Jared and Shannon talking over by some trees. They were wearing swimming trunks and smiling as they talked. I thought to myself that they looked extra adorable and almost tripped from not looking where I was going. I heard a voice that I would know anywhere shout, “watch your step, the ground isn’t even!” Shannon chuckled as he spoke to me from a distance. Jared looked in my direction and waved. I kept going and finally found my tent. Number 4, one of my lucky numbers. I was at peace.

My bags were sitting on the only available bed and I made my way over to it, to start making my little space my own. I heard someone walk in, but they must have walked back out because I never did see anyone. Once, I had made myself comfortable, I decided to lay down and allow myself time to soften up. I needed to unwind in the worst way and the quiet was really tranquil.

I rested for what was likely to be about an hour, but I have no actual idea as I hadn’t looked at the time. I was awoken from reverie to a commotion outside the tent. And I drew my legs up and started rocking back and forth.

The problem with being out in the real world was that everything was so unpredictable. Loud noises were everywhere, no matter the cause... they were most always innocent. People fighting... that was a hard one for me, but I saw my share of it in the airport between husband and wives, or parents and children. Now, here on the island there is it’s own set of issues. I needed to know the cause for the arguing. I needed to know I was safe. So I cranked my neck forward to get a really good listen.

“Ughh, I’ve looked all over for someone who can help me and I can’t seem to find anyone that cares or knows what to do! I’m going to just start screaming. Maybe that will get someone’s attention!”

I instantly knew it was Natalie.

“Don’t worry. This is a great opportunity. We can fuck with her as much as we want.”

“Hahahaha, no! I don’t want to be anywhere near her. She’ll play the victim no matter what and then I’ll get kicked off the island. Nooooo thanks!”

“No one has to know.”

“That’s true! Oh wait, there’s Shayla. Let’s get her attention.”

“Shayla, we desperately need your help!”

“Not now ladies. I’m looking for someone. Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t. We are stuck in a tent with someone we don’t like.”

“That’s hardly a reason to throw a fit. Can’t you just ignore each other?”

“Me? Of course! I can avoid her, but it’s not me to worry about. Catherine, will be the problem. She’s gonna hurt me in my sleep or something. She’s really unstable.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. She was actually trying to make me sound like I was a monster. What’s worse is we were to share a tent for three nights. I became violently ill and threw up right there in the bed.

“Did you say Catherine? Where is she?”

“Hell if I know.”

Shayla stepped inside and took notice of me.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay, Catherine?”

I nodded. “Let’s get you cleaned up and out of here. There was a mistake at check out. This isn’t your room. I’ll have someone clean up in here, don’t worry.” I went to protest, but she waved her hands at me. She picked up a towel and wiped my face. I was so humiliated. I had known Shayla for a few years and she was always so kind, we were nothing but acquaintances so to have her help me when I’m at my lowest was really humbling and extremely embarrassing. She handed me clothes from my suitcase and I quickly changed into them. “You ready?” I sighed, then nodded.

Shayla had her arms around me and walked me out of the tent. She gave Natalie a stern look and said nothing. We took a few steps and I overheard a scream followed by, “that nasty cunt threw up in here, how fucking gross!” Shayla reassured me and told me to just ignore it. I tried, but I still couldn’t get over how things were unfolding. I was still so confused as to how it ended up the way it did with Natalie.

We arrived at some bungalows and Shayla motioned for me to follow her. At first, I thought this was where she was staying or maybe it was first aid. I was really perplexed, but I followed her in. She turned around and said, “I’ll have your things sent here. Is this room okay? I wanted you to have something peaceful to wake up to, this was the only room with a direct view of the sea.”

“Shayla, I’m completely baffled. This isn’t my room. Why am I here?” I had to ask because I knew there had to be a mistake. “I must have forgotten to tell you, the donor upgraded you to the VIP experience and this was meant to be your room from that moment on. Unfortunately, when I went into the system to change everything, there was a glitch so it erased your booking entirely. You shouldn’t have been in that tent and it’s my fault you had to experience that unpleasantness.” She looked truly sorry.

“Shayla, you couldn’t have known. But is there anyway you can refund back some of the money to whomever paid for me? I’d like to just be where I was if I had paid my own way?”

“Catherine, I’m under strict orders to make sure you have a smooth vacation and that you have a wonderful time. I can ask, but I don’t think there’s a chance that they will allow that to happen.”

“Shay, who was it? I won’t say anything, I just am a little freaked out that someone did this for me.” I pleaded with her to tell me. Honestly, I was more scared now then I had been traveling here alone. What if this person meant me harm?

“I can’t say. But they’re not a threat to you. I can assure you of that.”

“Okay, whomever it was is trustworthy? I have your word?”

“Yes. Now, I suggest you do whatever it is you need to, because your itinerary is completely full starting in about an hour.” She handed me a paper filled with activities and times. She was right, completely full, starting with front row seating to the soundcheck.

[sapphicscholar]

Flung Out of Space - Chapter 4

Happy Christmas in May chapter! 

Two quick A/N:  1. Apparently links now keep things from showing up in tags? I don’t know, I don’t get tumblr, so find the link in the reblog. 2. I’m so sorry for how long I let this one go without an update. First I’d lent my copy of the book to a friend finding her way out of the closet, then I moved halfway across the country for a new job and took a bit of a break from fandom things, and suddenly it seemed so hard to get back into this old story. But I still want to write the story and am committed to seeing it through, so here we are! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text:

The sound of voices drifting up through the window slowly pulled Kara out of a deep sleep filled with swirling scenes that she couldn’t quite make sense of. Forcing herself out of the warm cocoon of blankets she’d made, she stumbled over to the window, peering down at the driveway where a new car—cream-colored and clean enough that it didn’t stand out too much from the freshly fallen snow—now sat.

“Just getting in or getting up?” came Cat’s voice, a kind of warm familiarity in it that Kara hadn’t heard before.

Kara couldn’t see the other woman’s face, but as she answered, “Both,” with a nudge to Cat’s shoulder, Kara just knew she’d be giving Cat some secret smile reserved only for her.

“You never learn.” Any real chastisement was missing from Cat’s tone, and she threw an arm around the woman’s shoulders, guiding her inside. “Now be quiet. I have company.”

The woman stopped at that, turning enough for Kara to catch a glimpse of her profile as she shook her head. “And you say I’m the one who never learns?”

The wry laugh followed Cat inside, and Kara opened the door to the guest bedroom, peering down the stairwell to see if she could catch a glimpse of the mystery woman. Instead, she found Cat gazing up the stairs back at her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.

“No, no.” Kara waved off her concern. “I was already awake.”

“Well…if you’d like to come downstairs.” With a little wave of her hand, Cat indicated the general direction of the kitchen before disappearing around the corner.

After a moment’s hesitation, Kara grabbed the thick navy robe hanging on the closet door, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t Max’s. She tiptoed down the stairs, hovering in the doorway to the kitchen for a long moment, feeling as though she were intruding on some intimate moment not meant to be shared.

“Three months,” Cat whispered.

“Bastard.” Lois pressed a soft kiss to the top of Cat’s head, and it was only then that Kara realized how tall Lois was with her heels. She was lanky, her figure almost boyish in its straight up and down silhouette, so unlike Cat with her form-fitting skirts designed to emphasize the gentle curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, the way her body seemed designed for Kara’s hands to fit so perfectly around—

“Lois, this is Kara Danvers.” Kara fought the urge to jump at the sudden introductions, instead reaching out a hand and trying to look less self-conscious than she felt in the long robe with her bare feet. “Kara, this is Lois Lane.” Kara thought she should have guessed that.

“Nice to meet you,” Kara murmured.

“You as well.” Lois glanced back at Cat, an unreadable expression on her face. “I’ve heard a bit about you, but clearly not enough.”

“Lois.” Cat’s voice was sharp as she glared at the woman in question.

“Fine, fine. A bit of coffee, then?”

Kara watched as the two women worked, their bodies moving easily together in a way that spoke of many mornings just like this, learning the rhythms of each other’s steps. Their conversation passed in fragments and single words and ellipses understood perfectly by each other, but perfectly incomprehensible to anyone else.

“The tree looks beautiful,” Lois said as she handed over a cup of coffee to Kara.

“Thank you.”

Before Kara had to think of any more to say, Lois had turned back to Cat, murmuring something about wanting to leave a gift for Max that had Cat laughing in a way Kara hadn’t gotten to see before. The surge of jealousy that welled up from somewhere deep inside of her at the knowledge that Lois knew how to do that, knew how to make Cat’s whole being shift like that, took Kara by surprise, leaving her reeling.

“So”—Lois turned back to Kara as she cocked a hip to the side, leaning up against the kitchen counter. “Where are you from?”

“She’s from New York City. And play nice,” Cat warned, lifting her eyebrows as she glanced over at Lois.

“When have you ever known me to do otherwise, Kitty?”

“We’d hardly have ended up where we did if you were that nice, Lane.”

Once more, Kara felt herself a spectator to some verbal sparring match that had begun long before she’d ever known to start watching for it.

“Cigarette?” Lois offered, heedless of the fact that it wasn’t yet 8 in the morning. “Or…are you old enough to smoke yet?” The bump of Cat’s hip against hers was hard enough to leave Lois stumbling slightly, a laugh catching in her throat.

“Please.” Kara took one, leaning in for a light. Just because she didn’t love smoking didn’t mean she couldn’t keep up. If she’d managed to go through nearly a whole pack at the meeting Mike arranged with his advertising buddies, she could certainly stomach a single one with Lois and Cat.

“What are you doing today?” The question was addressed to the room, but Kara suspected it was meant only for Cat.

She shrugged, her eyes taking on that lost quality Kara had glimpsed in the car. “I don’t know. Commitments were made before…” She shook her head. “What about you? What are you doing tonight? Late tonight, I mean.”

“I should be around. Call me.”

Cat nodded. “Three months.” A strangled little sound escaped her throat. “The only worthwhile thing to come out of that marriage, and I’ll be without him for three whole months.”

“Surely it’s not set in stone yet?”

Cat gave a rueful shake of her head. “Verbal decision for now, but it’ll hold. Trust me. After—it’ll hold.”

“You should take a trip.” Lois turned and held her mug out to Kara. “Don’t you think she should take a trip? Just go somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t here.”

Kara bit her tongue to keep from yelling No! Because she couldn’t quite handle the idea of Cat’s disappearing from her life when she’d finally found her.

“I don’t know that I’m in the mood for it.” But Kara could see the way her gaze had grown unfocused, knew that she was already thinking about it, considering it, mapping out the different places she could go, the places that would take her far, far away from Kara and New York City and whatever it was that might have been growing between them.

Lois seemed to catch it too, and she smiled at Cat. “Let me know, yeah?”

After a few more minutes, Cat’s attention returned to Kara. “You should probably be getting back into the city. It’s Christmas. You must have plans.” She did, but they paled in comparison.

Despite an offer from Cat to drive, Kara found herself, all too soon, sitting in the passenger seat of Lois’s car, flying down the quiet, snowy streets. Cat had driven fast, but Lois seemed almost reckless, the top down, heedless of the cold air, and music playing loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the wind.

“Where’d you meet Cat?” Lois called over the noise.

“In a store!” Kara yelled back.

For a little while longer, Lois said nothing. Then: “Do you like her?”

What a question. How could she do anything but? “Of course.”

Lois glanced at her, giving a little nod of her head.

When they arrived, Kara asked if Lois would mind waiting for a moment, then darted up to her apartment to grab the card she’d made for Cat on the off chance she saw her on Christmas. But then Lois was gone, and Kara was left with nothing to do but get ready to leave for Mike’s parents’ house.

After putting off leaving for too long, Kara was forced to splurge on a cab, and when she arrived it felt as if everyone had been there for hours, all of them crowding around her when she stepped through the door.

“Kara!” Mike’s booming voice rattled through the room, and soon a hand reached out and grabbed hers, pulling her through the fray. “Merry Christmas!” And then he kissed her in front of everyone, his breath smelling faintly of whiskey and whatever Eastern European liquor it was that his grandfather always pulled out for large family gatherings.

“Not here,” Kara whispered, pushing him away slightly but trying to smile, like it wasn’t a rebuke but a…a pause. A pause until a better time and place.

He waved away her concerns, leading her around the room for brief hellos before bringing her into the kitchen to get food. A moment later, a cool hand fell on her shoulder. “Kara, dear.” She turned around to find Rhea looking down at her. “How are you?”

“Very well. Thank you for having me over.”

“Of course. After everything Mike tells us, how could we pass up another opportunity to see you?”

Kara forced herself to nod, trying to ward off the chill that always came with interactions with Rhea. It wasn’t as if she were outwardly cruel or even unwelcoming, but Kara always felt like Rhea didn’t quite like her. Or at least didn’t like her for her, liked her instead for whatever it was she might offer to Mike.

Mike took that moment to swoop back in, throwing an arm over Kara’s shoulders and leading her upstairs to his room to exchange gifts. She’d gotten him a thick wool sweater in a deep navy that she hoped would complement his skin tone, knowing how cold the boat ride to Europe was expected to be. When he opened it, he swept her into a hug, then handed over a box of his own. Inside it was a dress that, Kara supposed, would maybe flatter her figure, even if it wasn’t quite a cut she normally wore. Still, she thanked him and let him pull her into another kiss, even if deep inside of her she wished she were with Cat instead. Cat whose presence seemed to have dulled everything else in her life into muted hues, while she stepped forward in vibrant reds and dashes of black that Kara knew she could drown in.

“Hey, my cousin got me a kite. Wanna go outside? Nice chance to get out of the house.” He shook a small bottle of whiskey, making the full scope of his intent clear.

“Um, sure.”

As they slipped out of the crowded house, he tangled his fingers with hers. It was sweet, Kara supposed, but it felt possessive, like he was claiming her for the whole world to see without realizing that she was no longer the quiet, demure girl he’d charmed at a party. Any hold he’d once had on her had fallen away that first moment she’d caught sight of Cat on the shop floor, and by the time they were at lunch together, she’d been changed irrevocably.

When they made it to the little park a few blocks away from his parents’ house, Mike took a long pull from the bottle of whiskey, before passing it over to Kara, who took a small sip to be polite. As she screwed the cap back on and set the bottle on the ground, Mike began unspooling a bit of string—enough to let the kite catch the breeze that sent flakes of snow whirling through the air from the treetops. She watched him as he went running through the park with it, trying to recapture some sense of the feelings she’d once had for him. Surely they were there. At some point they must have been. There was something…charming about the boyish glee in his expression as he jumped and ran with the kite, jerking his arms and urging it higher and higher. He whooped in glee as it finally caught a gust, and he called out to Kara, waving her over. His cheeks had grown ruddy in the cool winter air, and his smile was broad, like he really did want to share with her this moment of easy happiness. She wondered if there would ever be anything easy with Cat. She doubted it, but the idea of something complex, something challenging, something so much bigger than her or Cat or even their tiny moment in time didn’t bother her in the way it might have once.

“How many times were you in love?” Kara asked, her swirling thoughts removing the filter between brain and mouth.

He barely glanced over at her before answering, “Never, not until you.”

“But that’s not true. You told me about the other two.” The two girls he’d dated (and slept with) before Kara.

“If that’s how you’re counting, add in another dozen.” Mike laughed in that carefree way he had of wounding her deeply.

“What about another boy?”

He jerked his head around at that. “What?”

“Were you ever in love with a boy?”

“No.” The word seemed final in a way that brokered no argument, that left the door open for no additional questions.

Still, Kara wasn’t done with the topic, and when his attention had shifted back to the kite, she cleared her throat again. “You’ve heard of it though, right? Two boys?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of people like that, Kara.” He busied himself with unspooling more and more of the thread.

Anger surged inside of Kara. “Not people like that.” Her thoughts drifted back to everything people had said about Alex and Maggie and Susan. “I mean two people who fall in love. And it just happens, out of the blue. Two men or…or two women.”

“I don’t know anyone like that.”

Kara let out a little hum, trying to parse through what exactly it was she felt for Cat. It was so all-consuming, but did that make it love—or at least love in that way? “It could probably happen to anyone, though, couldn’t it? I mean, it’s love.”

He shook his head, even though his attention never left the sky. “Those things don’t just happen. There’s always something else, some reason for it.”

Pulling her arms tight around herself, Kara let her thoughts drift back to her days in school. There’d been a boy or two she’d found handsome, boys who made her heart beat a little faster, boys who made her nervous when she went to talk to them. But what she felt for them…it paled in comparison to this thing that had sprung up between her and Cat. And maybe it was all one-sided, though she couldn’t help but think that whatever it was between her and Lois was something a lot more like the thing between Alex and Maggie than mere friendship. And she wasn’t—she hadn’t thought of herself as being like Alex and Maggie. She hadn’t joined the WAAC or followed them to San Francisco. She didn’t have short hair like Alex or Susan, didn’t fall easily into the kind of jokes that circulated among them.

“Do you think I could?”

“Could what?”

“Fall in love with another girl?”

“Why?” His attention was finally back on her, though Kara wasn’t sure she wanted it. “What? You fall in love with someone?” He laughed loudly, that deep rumbling laugh that always seemed to come at someone else’s expense.

“No.” Her tone lacked all conviction, but it was enough for him. “Anyway, let me have a turn with the kite?”

He handed it over, and Kara let her worries about defining whatever was growing between Cat and herself fly away as she lost herself in the simple pleasures of watching the kite catch on soft breezes and soar along with faster gusts. With Mike’s encouragement, she let more and more of the string out until there was nothing left.

“More!” he cried out.

“It’s out,” she yelled back, running along the ground, pulling it behind her, her breath coming in short puffs visible in the cold air.

“I’m gonna cut it!”

“What?” Kara spun around and watched as he pulled his pocket knife out of his coat pocket. “You can’t!”

“It’s more fun!”

She pulled down, cradling the wooden handle protectively by her chest, the fragile thing, so full of potential. But then Mike was snipping the string above her head and grinning as the kite disappeared up into the sky, the wind carrying it far from her sight.

“Why would you do that?” Kara glared at him, an unexpected sadness piercing her. “It was beautiful.”

“It was only a kite, Kara. We can always buy another.”

[creative-frequency]

Cayde-6 x Reader: The Trigger Ch. 1

Word count: 2719 Pairing: Cayde-6 (Destiny) x Female Reader Contains: Rating eventually up to mature/explicit, Cayde being Cayde, sass, shooting, chickens, idek yet. Notes: You might be wondering how tf did this happen and I have no excuse, but I can point a finger at @glistoi.

My Writing Masterlist

The refugees, people who had lost their homes, and Guardians, who had lost their Light, had been arriving for weeks. Weeks of tending the wounded, burying the dead, sharing the supplies and scraping by with whatever you could find. Who knew how many more such weeks there was to come?

There had been hard times, it was easy enough to admit, but this was different. They were already calling it “The Red War”. It was a difficult concept to grasp for someone like you. So far, your life had been a rather solitary one, only banding together for convenience or the occasional need to talk to another human being. It was a good, simple way of living.

Life in The Last City had never been for you. You weren’t a Guardian, but the burn of the wanderlust was too tempting, its flame too bright to resist. There were others like you and a handful of them you were proud to call your friends.

Just like you, Suraya Hawthorne had lived half of her life outside the City walls. To neither of you there was no other way of life. The untamed, Fallen-filled wilds of the European Dead Zone were your home and the life of a wanderer was yours.

So, when Suraya came up with the grand idea of transforming your beloved Farm into the cradle of civilization, you couldn’t find the excuse to refuse her your help. Since then she had taken charge of the camp, much to your relief, and handled the daily tasks of running the safe haven.

Your job was much easier. Aim. Shoot. Kill. Provide. Repeat as needed.

The only problem was that the need was getting way too high to handle. The flood of people had peaked already, but there were still more arriving each day, and everyone needed to eat. For someone from the City, the lands of the EDZ were unfamiliar and unquestionably dangerous. To you the terrain was familiar, and most importantly, you knew where to go when one wanted to find something to fill their belly with.

After a particularly rushed, but lucky hunting trip, you were back at the Farm, resting your mind and body by enjoying the warm, sunny day sitting on the grass. Things had started to gradually calm down since the attack on the City as everyone found their daily tasks and the rhythm of the life at the Farm.

People kept coming and going around you, most of them ignoring you, until a pair of boots appeared to your field of vision.

“Oh, hey, they told me to find you.”

“Who’s asking?” You looked up from your rucksack. An Exo. That explained the metallic voice. “And who’s ‘they’?”

“Some guy at the landing. ‘Find the woman with a rifle and a permanent scowl’, so here I am,” he said sounding suspiciously excited. His blue eyes were bright and aimed at you like a pair of flashlights. A light glowed in the back of his throat as he spoke, altering between cold yellow and warm orange shades.

As it happened, you had been cleaning your sniper rifle and the parts were scattered on the grass around you. Half of the Exo’s description certainly fit but taking care of new refugees had never been your job.

“Well, sorry but that’s not me. You’re looking for Suraya Hawthorne – she’s up there,” you said, already focused back on the weapon and nodded to the general direction of the large garage building.

The Exo hummed in thought, nodded and planted his hands on his hips, waiting.

“Did you need something else?” There was a scowl on your face you could swear wasn’t there before his arrival. If someone had asked you to describe Suraya, you would have told them to look for a woman in a poncho with a falcon. Half of the people at the Farm were carrying a rifle and there wasn’t much to smile about these days.

The Exo tilted his head, a somewhat apologetic look on his face. “Could you show me the way? I’m not sure I can find her on my own.”

You looked up to stare at him, trying to figure out was he serious. The pair of blue lights blinked innocently.

“It’s that building over there. She’s probably on the second floor, straight ahead from the stairs at the left,” you explained patiently, now more carefully pointing at the right direction. Even from that distance you could distinguish the woman in a blue poncho, hunched over a table you knew was filled with maps and plans.

“Yeah, okay,” the Exo agreed, but made no motion to any direction.

You waited a few seconds, hoping he would get the hint.

“Fine,” you groaned and placed the barrel you had been cleaning to the ground. No one would dare to touch your stuff anyways, or you would see to that they would never touch anything that belonged to you again.

You ignored the hand reached out in aid, got up and started walking at a brisk pace, silently irritated at being pulled away from your solitude.

“I’m Cayde-6, by the way,” the Exo said and hurried after you.

Out of the shreds of courtesy you managed to dig from inside you, you turned to nod to him over your shoulder.

“Pleasure,” you said curtly but didn’t bother introducing yourself. You wouldn’t have to stand his company ever again anyway.

“So, you live around here?” Cayde questioned to make small talk.

“I do.”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a beat of silence, but he didn’t let it last for long.

“And what do you do?” he asked.

“I’m a hunter.”

Cayde let out a delighted noise. “Oh, what a coincidence! I’m a Hunter too.” He sounded way too excited about the revelation.

“Great,” you muttered and continued stomping up the stairs, not listening to what the Exo was gushing about behind you.

Being a hunter like you, and being a Hunter like him were worlds apart. With each step you were gladder you would get rid of him soon.

“Hawthorne, there’s someone looking for you,” you announced as soon as you stepped onto the second-floor platform.

Suraya was leaning heavily over the map that had been spread on the table. She looked up and her brows raised. “What is it?”

You simply pointed a thumb over your shoulder towards the Exo sauntering after you. You imagined he was throwing finger guns at everyone and everything along with the greetings that kept spilling out of his mouth. Seemed like you had found the noisiest person on the planet.

“Heyy, you must be Hawthorne.”

“And you must be Cayde-6. Welcome to the European Dead Zone.” Suraya straightened up and folded her arms on her chest. Her judgmental gaze scanned over the newcomer.

“Oh. Thanks.” Cayde glanced at you, eyes bright with clear as day mischief. “…For the warm welcome.”

Suraya laughed. “Don’t mind her. She’s our best tracker and that compensates to her people skills.”

You rolled your eyes to the heights, still not feeling like warming up to Cayde the Hunter. You had seen enough Guardians for one life time and had a long time ago deemed it best to avoid them.

“Oh, so that’s what you meant when you said you were a hunter. That’s amazing, though! I let my Ghost handle the tracking stuff.” Cayde was looking at you with completely new interest and it made your insides tingle nervously.

The small, red device appeared in the air as if on cue: “Nice to meet you. My name is Sundance.”

The Ghost made a circle around Cayde’s head before settling to hover above his left shoulder.

“You came from Nessus, didn’t you?” Suraya asked, her brows creasing in thought.

“Yeah. Had a little stuck-in-endless-portal-loop-scenario. The Guardian helped me out,” Cayde explained and chuckled.

Everyone knew which Guardian he was talking about: The only one who had gotten their Light back. News of her heroics around the system had spread like a wildfire.

“You know where she is now?” Suraya continued.

“We left Nessus at the same time. I sent her to Io, she was looking for Ikora, our Warlock vanguard.”

“Ah.”

When the conversation deceased, you started slowly retreating towards the exit, hoping Suraya would handle Cayde and you could go back to being left alone.

“Are you busy now?” she asked sharply, stopping you on your tracks.

“Always,” you turned to say with a blank face.

Suraya looked back to Cayde and her posture relaxed. “You should get some rest before you guys start planning on how to save the world again.” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. For every Guardian who arrived at the Farm, she seemed happier. The Farm needed people who knew which end of the gun went where. Though you weren’t sure did the Hunter deserve so much credit.

Cayde swatted the air as if saving the world was nothing. “It’s just another Tuesday.”

“Hmh. Have you had time to explore the place?” Suraya’s tone was pondering and the feeling that you were not going to get back to being left alone grew tenfold.

“Nah, just got here,” Cayde said.

“Why don’t you show him around?” Suraya asked you in a tone that didn’t leave any room for argument.

You threw a murderous look at her, but after so many years of friendship, she was immune by now. Cayde, on the other hand, was not so immune to the power of your scornful glare.

“Y’know what? I’m good, really, there’s no–”

“Cayde? Are you there?” a booming shout carried from nearby.

The voice belonged to the Titan Vanguard Commander. You had seen him from afar, never made any contact with and didn’t even want to. He was an Awoken, always armored from neck to toe and seemed to have a stick up his ass but that was probably caused by the recent events. Losing the City you’re supposed to protect will do that.

“On second thought, I could really use a tour.” Cayde grabbed your shoulders and before you could utter a word of protest, he turned you towards the stairs and walked you down.

Suraya just chuckled and went back to her maps.

It was an easy way out of the situation, but as soon as you were down on the ground level, you shook the Exo off your back.

“Hey, I didn’t catch your name back there,” he said.

“That’s cause I didn’t say it,” you muttered loud enough to be heard.

“Yeah, I noticed. Just didn’t want to be rude.”

“You can call me whatever you like. I don’t care.”

“Uuh, I like that…”Cayde rubbed his hands together eagerly. “So, how about–”

You stopped abruptly, interrupting him by almost causing him to bump into you. You didn’t budge when you turned, and instead fixated the scariest, most serious look you could form straight into his bright blue eyes.

Cayde blinked, obviously surprised.

“I have no interest in being your friend, so there’s really no need to try so hard,” you said as you eyed him up and down, for the first time actually looking at him, “…Guardian.”

“Ah, the cold shoulder again!” Cayde waved one finger in the air, as if saying that he knew the answer to this one. “Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud, was I? I’m not so good at this whole ‘making friends’ thing–”

A frustrated groan rumbled from your throat as you spun on your heels and continued to try and go on about your business. The rifle needed cleaning, the bow string needed to be changed, there was tons to pack before heading out and your dog was god knows where, so you’d have find him…

But Cayde skittered after you like a puppy wanting to play.

“Don’t you have something to do, Guardian?” you asked angrily, not sparing a look at him. You headed towards the spot where you had left most of your stuff behind the survey unit house.

“First of all, it’s Cayde, C-A-Y-D-E. But I forgive you since we only just became friends.”

Okay now you were sure he was trying to get on your nerves on purpose. You took a sharp inhale before opening your mouth:

“Why don’t you run along–”

The delighted gasp that left Cayde and the reason for it silenced you mid-sentence.

“What is that?” Cayde asked, skittering forward in tiny, dancing steps.

You patted your thigh and made a short whistle.

“A dog?” you said.

“Duh. I know it’s a dog. Of course, it’s a dog. What I mean is what is that doing here?” The pitch of Cayde’s voice heightened as he crouched with open arms, ready to try and hug the animal.

One of your concerns had solved itself as your occasional hunting companion sat on the grass, tail wagging and dark golden eyes peeled at you. You felt a weird sense of satisfaction as he ignored the Exo trying to call out to him.

“Good boy,” you murmured and invited the dog closer for a scratching behind the ear.

Cayde let out a dismayed huff and crossed his arms on his chest. “Now I know what it means that pets and their owners are alike...”

You hummed, decided to overlook the stupid comment and patted the dog’s head. He had noticed you were planning to leave and had come to check could he go with you. The short, orange-brown fur was clean and flowy, a telltale signal of love, care and a bath. Mark and the kids had probably looked after him again. You would have to go thank them before heading out. The thought brought an almost imperceptible smile to your lips.

“What’s his name?” Cayde asked after a few seconds of looking at you and the dog.

You hesitated. “Uh, he doesn’t have one…” At least to your knowledge. It was highly probable that the kids had given him a name. You just called him “the dog”.

You peeked at the horrification on the Exo’s face from under your brows.

“…What?” you asked.

“He doesn’t have a name?! How’s that possible?” Cayde all but screamed.

You shrugged, uncomfortable about the amount of emotion he put into his words.

“Well, he might have one. I just don’t have one for him.” You didn’t want to start explaining how he had been a stray in the wildlands and just tagged along when you had given him some food. Apparently, that had been an unintentional invite to be a part of your pack, but the dog had made himself useful, for sure.

“Then who does?” Cayde questioned with a frown. He was itching to lean down to pet the dog.

“Maybe the kids who live at the camp nearby. I– I don’t know. What does it even matter?” Your gaze shifted from the Exo to the dog.  “The tour will have to wait until I get back. Come on, boy.”

As fast as you could, you started throwing the stuff from the ground into the rucksack, all the while trying to act like Cayde’s presence wasn’t bothering you at all.

“You’re ditching me already? I thought we were starting to bond here.” He gestured between himself and you, a mock hurt look on his face.

“I work alone,” you said when you were done and slung the bag over your shoulder. You didn’t mean to look, but Cayde had his hands on his hips again and a stern pout on his face.

“I’m gonna make sure you hold on to that promise, hunter,” he said and a look of dismay passed his features, “Good luck out there.”

A weird sensation fell into the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t snap back at him like you wanted to, nor did you say thanks or even glance at him. The dog waited eagerly by your side, ready to head out into the wilds and the feeling was gradually taking you over too.

“Come back with a story!” Cayde quipped at your retreating back.

As a reaction, only a light huff escaped you. It almost curled the corners of your mouth up.

“Man, I want a pet too,” Cayde said to himself, longingly staring at the dog that was happily trailing after you.

Next Chapter

Tagging: @bleucommelhiver @lucianhuntress @singlebecauseofthechocobros @sherniwrites @owlwrites @toastyfiction @sevansheart

[harrieatthemet]

hi im soo in love w ur writing its an obsession 🖤 do u think u could do a thing where harry and y/n broke up a few years ago but they see each other again and they miss what they had and want to get back together?

hope you LOVE IT because I DO!

The heat is swallowing him whole. The collar on his dress shirt is starting to stick to the back of his neck, as it begins to feel more and more like it’s suffocating him. He’s wondering if anyone else is as bothered by the sweltering heat, if there’s anyone else sitting in the crowd splayed out in front of him as hair sticking to the front of their forehead, if they feel like they’re sitting in a literal bowl of soup.

He’s almost tempted to ask the man in front of him, the one tucked beneath a suit jacket identical to his. He wants to know if that coat feels a tad bit heavier than it did earlier on today, if it’s just him or if the rest of the groomsmen felt the same way. It’s probably visible how uncomfortable he looks, as he tugs at the sleeves of his jacket every now and again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, all while trying to discreetly dab away the little beads of sweat assembling at his hairline.

It’s an all in effort when he tries to focus on something else, to keep from over obsessing about the heat, to avoid wondering if his hair ha completely matted itself to his forehead yet. His eyes do a quick one over of all the guests in attendance, smiling at the faces he recognizes. It’s a quaint event, very intimate, as there isn’t too many people there. It’s a small crowd, mostly family with a few close friends of the bride and groom sprinkled in. So he’s not sure how he missed you the first time. 

It’s not until what he believes to be the fourth glaze over the formally dressed audience, that he sees you. Tucked away in the back, sat beside a friend of yours he had deemed as familiar. At first he’s convinced he’s seeing things, that the heat has finally done away with him and that he was so utterly dehydrated that he’s having hallucinations. But it’s clear that it’s real, you’re real, as you sit sweetly with your legs crossed. He likes that color on you, always has, a mute yellow shade that seems to flatter you quite well. 

Surely you know he’s here. Of course you know he’s here, why wouldn’t he be? It’s his friend that’s getting married, after all. But he remembers that your a friend of the couple as well, which is how the two of you managed to end up in the same place after a little over 5 years. It’s not that he had forgotten about how pleasing it was to look at you, maybe in this case, stare. More often than not you tended to cross his mind, regardless of how hard he tried to avoid the idea of you altogether. It’d just been a while since he had the privilege of getting to gawk, in person, instead of staring at a photo through a cracked iPhone screen. 

“S’that Harry?” Your friend is doing her best at a hushed whisper, though she shoots an apologetic smile when the man in front of her turns to give her a glare.

“Oh,” you sigh, “yeah, guess it is.”

She sarcastically rolls her eyes, mimicking you beneath her breath as she goes to trail her eyes back on the bride. Your bleakness is nothing more than just a decoy, because the very moment you’d caught sight of him up there, tie sloppily done because he has always just been so awful with those, the internal screaming concurring within you was enough to send your head spinning. But you were keen on not letting yourself stare, as you’d be sure to steady your eyes and keep your focus maintained any direction opposite of Harry’s. And, you thought to yourself, you were seated in one of the furthest rows back, so it was slim to none that he’d spotted you so hurriedly. 

But how foolish of you to be so quick to assume. Of course he’d spot you so soon, so easily. It didn’t matter how much time would ever pass without the two of you crossing paths, spotting you amongst a crowd was such a simple task for him, it was almost second nature. He knew you were keeping yourself from meeting his gaze, because during the vows he’d peek over at you, doing his best to remain subtle, just to steal another quick peek. And he was almost sure that you’d felt him glancing over every couple minutes, positive that by now, you were well aware of his eyes boring into you. And you were, though you continued to look straight on, smiling softly as you watched the couple exchange rings. Though you broke away, only for a moment, when you were under the impression that he had pulled his gaze back to where it should have been focused in the first place. But you were wrong, and your stare had finally met his. To which, he smiled, discreetly, though it was genuine, even a little excited. It was like he had been waiting for most of the ceremony for you to finally just fucking look at hi. And once you did, you felt that familiar flutter in your stomach, the one you had gone without for a while. You’re quick to return the favor, smiling shyly before awkwardly waving a hand. And your eyebrows furrow right after, as you try to figure out why the fuck the wave was necessary. But he only chuckles, lowly and quietly, biting back on his lip before his stare wanders off again. 

He doesn’t head over to the reception with much else on his mind, aside from trying to locate you in the hustle and bustle of moving people. It’s hard to hear over the live band, drown out the noise of obnoxious laughter and loud banter. He’s left with his eyes, and they’re feverishly coursing throughout the outdoor reception tent as he tries to knit pick the frenzy of people for a particular familiar face.

And his determination is put off when a drink is slipped into his hand, a friendly pat on the back abruptly given to him as he’s greeted by a pal of his. In which, he feels obligated to stay and chat here now, about nothing really in particular. A lot of it is just chit chat, some about his career, some about other things he can’t quite commit his attention to. But it drags on, somehow, regardless of here meekness and his short, one-worded answers. He’s doing his best to be polite, he is, but he’s got other things he’d rather be doing than talking about the European leg of his tour.

It’s not until an hour later that’s he free of small talk hell, releasing an exasperated breath before slinking off to grab a well deserved drink. His empty cup is sat between his index and ring finger, as he traipses over to where the bar’s set up whilst humming along to whatever tune the band is playing. And he’s about halfway up there when he gets a glimpse of a familiar dress, a yellow one in specific.

“Thought yeh did th’dip on me.” His voice is silvery, tone lighthearted, and you don’t even need to see him to know he’s got a smirk on his face.

He feels his chest go tight and his throat get dry when he watches you twirl to face him. Everything is exactly how he left it, how he so vividly remembered, and it’s making him feel so at ease and so comforted to know that you hadn’t gone and changed on him. The smile on your face is sweet, it’s warm, so infectious that now he’s smiling like a dork because he just can’t help it. 

“Took you long enough t’find me.” You tease, sighing sweetly when he goes to invite you for a hug.

And he smells exactly the same. A familiar trace of cologne comes floating in through your nostrils, and you try to be low key and when you take a deep inhale to savor the familiar smell. The hint of mint gum follows not long after, and it nearly makes you wanna stay in this hug forever. But you don’t know that he feels the same way, an overwhelming sense of homeliness coursing throughout him as he inhales your vanilla scented body spray, trying to refrain from nestling his head into the crook of your neck, like he used to. 

“See you still can’t properly do a tie.” You giggle, and he glances down at the poorly done up bow tie on his collar.

“‘Nd I see yeh still don’t like wearing heels.” And now you’re looking down at your open toed sandals, smirking before you nudge his shoulder.

It’s weird how you still have this affect on him, how he can stand here in a room filled with plenty of other people, yet he can’t seem to realize that. Feels like it’s just you and him, not that he minds. Talking with you is a like a sigh of relief, because he’s wanted to for a while now, since he had last seen you, he just never knew how to go about actually doing it. You still laugh at all his jokes, even if it is out of pity, and again, he doesn’t mind. His face can’t ever get sore, no matter how hard he’s smiling, when he hears that laugh of yours. He let’s you go on about your job, what you’ve been up to. And he’s completely zeroed in on the conversation, careful to not miss a word. 

“Y’gonna step on my toes? Like y’always did?” He grimaces at the roll of your eyes, resisting the urge to place a kiss to your forehead.

He’s, honestly, surprised you’d agreed to dance with him. And he didn’t care that, upon your request, it was only for one song. He didn’t care to be the only groomsmen that sat this one out, didn’t wanna be the one sitting at the table with a glass of wine while the rest of the wedding party had a dance. He’s just happy to have you a little close to him, hands on his shoulder, as he’s snickering at the joke you made about how the bride’s brother was already a little too drunk. It feels like you’d never left, like he hadn’t just gone and did the past 5 years without you. It feels normal. 

“Looks like y’got a little better,” he cajoles, “m’toes aren’t throbbing in pain yet.”

“Well it’s been a couple years,” you laugh, “had some time to work on my craft.”

And though he smiles, laughs lightly along with you, he doesn’t need to be painfully reminded of the time apart. In fact, it triggers him to start wondering why there was even time apart to begin with. He’s a little stubborn, no doubt about it, and right now he’s kicking himself for being that way. Why he wouldn’t have just swallowed his pride and picked up the phone earlier, he’ll never know. Everything feels a little easier with you, calmer and just simplicity soothing. He’s always known that, he’s just merely being reminded of that right now, as you inch your body a little closer to his. 

There’s a very obvious, and prominent, frown etching itself onto his face when the band winds down. Your hands slink off of his shoulders, and you’re stepping back a little, wishing he’d coaxed you into agreeing to two songs instead of only one. Because one just didn’t feel like enough. 

“Where y’off to now?” He’s watching you fidget with the top of your dress, knees nearly giving in on him when you peer up to smile at him.

“M’leaving,” you shrug, “have t’fly some where for work tomorrow.” 

“Oh.” The word comes off in an apologetic tone, as he lets out a sigh.

“But before I’m off,” you murmur, hands maneuvering their way back to his chest, “can’t leave you looking like this, with a messy bow tie.”

It’s a very small gesture, your nimble fingers fumbling with the material of his tie to try and get it the right way. He knows it’s not a big deal, knows that you’re just polite, always have been. But it feels like more than a gesture. And he’s thinking that maybe you’re just looking for a reason to linger around in his presence a moment longer, angling for an excuse to be able to touch him. Which, you are. 

“M’I not gonna see yeh for another five years?” He asks, your hand patting the tie before you go to look up at him again.

“You still have my phone number, don’t you?”

“Do you still have mine?”

He probably shouldn’t have asked, because if you said no, he thought he’d might throw up. You’re not sure what angle he’s working, and you too are hoping he hasn’t gone and erased your phone number out of spite. 

“Of course.” You giggle, and he can finally breath right again.

“I don’t think I can go another five years not seeing yeh.” He confesses, and the conversation has rerouted to a more serious tone. 

“Couldn’t even do four?” You’re teasing is a mechanism to lighten the context, but it doesn’t work well.

“Couldn’t even do a week.” You’re going to slide your hand from the collar of his shirt, to retreat it back to his side, but he catches it with his own to keep it there. 

He’s sick of hinting on by now, and you’re through playing oblivious. His hand is resting atop yours, his thumb stroking the side of yours, as he waits for you to just fucking say something. You’re a little caught off guars, only a little, but you’re not gonna object either. Because even a week feels like a lifetime, the longer you think about it.

“Then don’t.”

[little-pisces-dreaming]

1-25 :D

😆😆😆  Thank you!

1) isthere a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?FallenEmpire. It was this fantasy epic with Tang Dynasty China, Ancient Greece, Rome,Egypt and the Ottoman Empire.  The amountof research that I need to do to even tie them down to a period and then I need to learn period specific Latin, Greek, reading hierogrylphs, etc and should I even include an Ottoman-esque country because how would magic beviewed and how would it affect diplomacy and there. Are. So. Many. Gods.  AAAAHH

2) whatwork of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?I thinkprobably Dusk?  I am quite proud of itbut unlike fanfic my friends and family have read it.  It was not ready to be published and I willnever escape it.

3) whatorder do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenesfirst? something else?Mostly chronological.

4)favorite character you’ve writtenTheDevran.

5)character you were most surprised to end up writingRosie Wu.

6)something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s toolate/complicated to change nowDusk.  Just pretty much all of it.

7) whenasked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?Embarrassed?  I always go blank when people ask.

8)favorite genre to writeFantasy

9) what,if anything, do you do for inspiration?Isometimes watch these kinds of videos?

10)write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?Dependson the wip.

11) whataspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you startedwriting?Justoverall competence.

12) yourweaknesses as an authorI can beover-descriptive to the point of coming off as clinical.

13) yourstrengths as an authorMyideas.

14) doyou make playlists for your current wips?All.The. Playlists.

15) whydid you start writing?I don’tknow.

16) arethere any characters who haunt you?Rosie Wu.  I wanted to try my hand at something withsocio-political relevance about a dead girl who was haunted by her life and inthe span of like three paragraphs she turned into me but without any of thegood bits.

17) ifyou could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?Hahaha.  I would not waste my breath.

18) werethere any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced yourwriting style? what were they?ChinesePaladin.  I don’t know if it countsbecause it’s not a book but that’s why I started writing #ownvoices and away from bog standard European fantasy.

19) whenit comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines,characters, development, timeline, ect.?Generally,I don’t.  But I do have WorldAnvil fortwo wips and I really love it.

20) doyou write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?Probablymore in spurts.

21) whatdo you think when you read over your older work?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-oP3KFe4ko

22) arethere any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?Important Subject Matter.

23) anyobscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?Icontracted CFS in my first year of academy.

24) haveyou ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, inorder to better a scene or a story?I willif I ever get to a second draft.

25)copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proudof

Enclosedin the small circle of firelight, he cut a pitiable figure under the loomingshadows of thick forest that groaned and moaned as they strained against theplummeting temperatures.  His jian lay athis side, a hair’s breadth out of reach even if he did care to defendhimself.  Whimpering, he blew on hisfingers, inching closer to the flames.Silent.  Each step plotted in advance, a figureemerged.  The fur trim weighed the  cloak down, revealing nothing but gloved handsand a chin – skin the colour of snow.

[YunwuyueInterlude I | Harbinger | War Quartet]

[call-me-emma]

First Introductions

Summary: Hey guys! I’m so excited to finally have this finished. It’s my first story with Emma. It takes place her 2nd year of high school. She moved to Central City a year ago and this is the story of how she meets a certain redhead. (And yes, I’ve done my research on where he’s originally from in the comics. I tried to stick as close to the canon i could find as possible.)

Word Count: 1492

Warnings: None

Note: Telepathy and ‘thought dialogue’ is marked in italics

Emma tugged at the strap of her backpack adjusting its position. She wondered how it got so heavy. Then she remembered she was carrying her books for Biology, AP European History, and American Lit.

“Ow! Dang it” she exclaimed as she walked straight into the glass doors to Central City High School.

She’d been distracted, as usual, flipping through her planner to see what she had forgotten for the day. Thankfully nobody seemed to have seen her; at least nobody seemed to be laughing. She didn’t feel anyone thinking how foolish she was either. She fumbled with the pages till she found the correct page. Emma wondered how she ever knew what day of the week it was. The only way she ever remembered was by what classes she had that day, or if she had tae kwon do lessons after school. She frowned slightly as looked at the page. Today was Student Ambassador day.

Emma had been excited about it when she signed up, but now she wasn’t so sure. Her teacher had recommended her, and she’d never been the one to say no to an authority figure. Besides which, she had been a bit too proud to admit she was nervous; that meeting new people wasn’t really her thing. She had pushed herself outside of her comfort zone far enough when she met her best girlfriend one year ago. It had been her first day of school in a new city. She had walked up to the only other table in the cafeteria anyone sitting alone and asked if she could sit there. The girl had been on her bus that morning. After that, Emma and the girl had become best friends.

It had been a year since Emma moved to Central City from Chicago. She had adjusted well to her new life in a quieter town. Chicago was The Big City.  Everything was noise and light and change and -LOUD. Always loud. Loud enough to drown out the the thoughts in her head. The rumble of the L-Train, sirens, a few birds, occasional gunshots, street vendors hawking their Chicago Dogs, people going about their day. Rushing to and fro; their heads all filled with thoughts.

Mostly about things she was too young or too naive to understand. Mortgages, business deals, politics. Sometimes she understood. Parents with sick kids, students worried about exams, couples fighting about money. Families of police officers and firefighters afraid their loved ones wouldn’t come home. These things she understood, as she worried about these same things. Sometimes it was all too much. Sensing so many thoughts of so many people at once left little room for her own thoughts.

The sounds of the city had helped with that and allowed her to block most of it out. Given her head space to focus on her own problems. Even though, when she did, she felt a twinge of guilt. The world was so big. And Emma Aiden Teague, and her problems, were so small. So insignificant.

At first moving to Central City had been a bit of a culture shock. Then it had been a relief, at least in some ways. It was so much quieter. There were fewer people, which meant fewer thoughts and emotions. And the people were quieter and more gentle with their thoughts.

Emma had looked forward to moving to a new place where she could start over. Back in Chicago, she’d always been the odd one out. Except in the dojang, where she had found a second family. Moving gave her a chance to start over. Nobody knew her, so she could remake herself into anyone. She could sculpt herself into the popular, outgoing girl she’d always wanted to be. More like her mother or her younger sister Jessica. It hadn’t worked as well as she’d hoped.

Now she was supposed to show the new kids around and make them feel welcome. She’d be giving them tips on how to survive- which teachers gave pop quizzes and which were good to ask for extra credit work, where the library was, those sorts of things. That part wasn’t a problem. But after all her efforts, she still never quite fit in with the right crowd. She wasn’t popular, she was still somewhat of the awkward girl. She wasn’t sure whether to pity the poor kid who got stuck with her, or dread getting laughed at. But she held onto the possibility that it would end up going well.

Shaking her slightly to clear it, Emma pulled herself out of her little reverie. She cursed as she looked at the clock in the hallway. She was almost late for first period! In her rush she nearly ran straight into one of the upper grade teachers. Please don't let me get detention! I'm already running late, I don't have time for that! she thought.

“It's ok. you've got time, I'm not giving you detention. Just slow down, and try to watch where you're going, Miss Teague.”

Emma managed to slide into her seat seconds before the bell rang, harried and out of breath.

Later that morning she was sitting next to the new boy she was assigned to as the student ambassador in the cafeteria. He had sunset orange hair and green eyes that seemed to buzz with electricity perfectly complimented by a smattering of freckles. He looked like the kind of boy who should be awkward but somehow wasn't. He had an air of confidence. She was suddenly very aware of the way her shoulder length brown hair hung straight and boring. Her eyebrows probably needed plucked, her lips were bleeding again from nervously picking them, and she surely had dark circles under her muddy brown eyes.

“Ok, Wally. Let’s see what classes you’ve got,” she said reaching for his schedule.

“Hey, call me Wallman” He finger gunned her as he handed over his schedule.

She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him. “Ok, Wallman”. Looking over his schedule she noticed they had several classes together and set hers down for comparison. “Here. We’ve got physics, American lit, and P.E. together. I can help you with American Lit if you need it, but physics isn’t exactly my strong suit. I’ve got French for my foreign language, and my Spanish is a little rusty. So i might not be able to help you much with that. But I’ve heard Senorita Blanco is good. Doesn’t give too much homework and she’s supposed to be fun.”

“Ah, bueno. Bueno.” Wally winked at her. “You speak the French, Mademoiselle? Perhaps you will teach the Wallman.”

Emma smiled slightly and shook her head at his attempt at a French accent. “I mean, I guess, if you want me to. I’m not that good though. I only know un peu.” She made her index finger and thumb into a ‘little bit’ gesture. “My friend Natalie is better.”

“Nah, babe. I’d rather you teach me”

She blushed slightly in spite of herself and looked at the table, wondering if he was flirting or if he was always like this. “Please don’t call me babe.”

Wally had the decency to look sorry as he put his hands up. “Oh. Ok. Sorry. I won’t, Emma”

“Thanks” She shoved her books back into her bag as the the warning bell for the next period rang. “Ok, this is one of the classes we have together. American Lit.You can sit by me if you want.”

“Yeah, sure ba..Sorry. Sure. Lead the way.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, Emma, my aunt and uncle are throwing us a welcome barbeque this evening. Want to come?”

“Sure, ok, I guess. Is this, um, like a big thing, or?”

“Nah. Not too big. Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris are pretty cool. It’ll be lots of fun. But it’d be better if you were there.” He looked at her with a smirk.

“Alright. I’ll come. I have to double check with my parents first, but sure. What time?”

“6:30ish.” As they approached the classroom door, Wally put his arm around her. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Emma chuckled again. She couldn’t pinpoint why, but her instincts told her he was right. She felt comfortable around him. Somehow she could sense that underneath the cockiness, he was a good guy. The kind who genuinely wanted to help people. Something just clicked. “Haha. I think so too, Wallman. Now let’s go before we’re late.”