#anyway it's time to completely take yolanda's side

[brainwavejrsoldermankink]

Beth/Yolanda CANON baby (Beth/Yolanda not technically canon)

[words-4u]

second chance - y.g

pairing: yolanda garcia x surgeon!ex!f!reader

wc: 1.6k

a/n: i love all of the fics for robby and abbott as much as the next girl but where is the love for my ladies?? need more wlw imagines pls and thank youuu

you know how they say 'don't shit where you eat', turns out it's not a bunch of random words strung together, it's a saying for a reason and pretty sound advise. but when you first laid eyes on dr. yolanda garcia every single thing your best friend cassie mckay advised you went out the window and you dove head first into your whirlwind relationship with garcia.

it was picture perfect at first, she made you breakfast in bed whenever you had days off together, walks in the park, you even owned a dog together (which she kept since she was more emotionally invested in sammy anyway) almost a year and a half in the cracks started to appear, long nights with no calls or text, shortened answers, it just didn't seem like she wanted to be with you any longer so you did what she clearly couldn't do and broke it off.

you were devastated of course but 5 months later and you're starting to get back on your feet. the one hard rule you both agreed on was to keep it professional at work and you tried to... sometimes.

"and what do we have today?" you say walking into the buzzing trauma room.

"high power machine degloved his arm almost crushing it completely. his buddy wasn't looking and fell onto a button. freak accident," perlah says.

the new interns and med students gather around waiting to be instructed.

you walk up to the patient. "wow, i know you guys don't get paid enough for shit like this,"

he almost laughs but it's too painful. "no kidding," he grunts instead, clearly trying to mask the pain.

"sir, my name is y/n y/l/n. you feel pain anywhere else on your body?"

it was at the moment your ex walks in.

"what's up party people?" she asks before her eyes lock on you. "why are you here? this is my consult."

"the page went to all surgeons. i got here first," you shrug.

"god, i wish i had popcorn for this," langdon says as he asses the patient.

"shut up langdon," you and garcia say in unison. if you weren't in a constant state of botherment with her, you would've smiled at that.

"okay, i'll just stand here and watch," garcia says making her way to the back, eyes still trained on you.

"fine by me. it's your time wasted," you retort. "you," you say pointing to one of the newbies.

startled, she points at herself.

"yes, you. name?"

"uh, santos. trinity santos."

"okay, santos. i need you over on this side. you're gonna carefully dress this arm before we take him up for a head ct,"

"how do you know he needs a head ct. his arm is a straightforward repair," garcia pipes up.

you make it a point to look at your ex and then at the patient, "sir, when you hurt your arm, did you fall? hit your head?"

"yeah, pretty hard," he says through clenched teeth.

you give an 'i told you so' smile to garcia causing her to roll her eyes.

"i think i'm done here," garcia says walking out annoyed, which you feel pretty content with.

"nooo, it was getting so good," langdon says.

"langdon, for the love of god, get a hobby. santos, on my right," you say.

santos makes her way around. you hand her gauze. "perlah, push some morphine,"

you cover his exposed arm with the skin dangling off. screams erupt from him.

"i know, sir. we're almost done here. okay santos, wrap 'er up,"

"can't we get a nurse to do this?"

you look at her, kind of shocked, very disrespected. "excuse you?"

"garcia's probably on some gnarly case right now and i just-"

you take the gauze from her. "you're free to go, dr. santos"

"oh i- no i just meant-" "i said you can go," you turn away from her. you point to another one of the interns/med students. "dr..."

"whitaker. just whitaker. i'm ms4."

you hold out the gauze to whitaker. "is wrapping gauze on this patient a task you feel is beneath you, whitaker?"

"no, dr. y/n," he shakes his head.

"great, it's all yours," you say moving out of the way as he comes around and starts wrapping.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

bar hangouts after long shifts got you through most of your days. you get to have your hair down, literally, and decompress from the day with your colleagues. it's essential to your survival.

mckay rants about her day. "and he was such a weirdo, like 'sir, your daughter is about to have surgery. stop trying to get my number'... god, i can't stand men,"

"amen," you say clinking your glass with hers.

"hey, as the only man here, i take offence for all of us, okay? some of us are good guys," langdon interjects.

"no, i'm not having this conversation with you again, frank, i'm just not," you chuckle.

"what? i'm just saying..." his joyful voice trails off as he stares at something, rather someone, behind you.

you look at him confused, "what are y-"

you turn around, now face to face with santos. she looks solemn and nervous and behind her... garcia.

"what the fuck is going on?" langdon whisper to mckay.

"i don't know but i feel like we shouldn't be here for this," mckay whispers back.

"we'll be at the bar," she announces to the table, dragging langdon by the hand who so clearly wanted to stay.

it was like you were in a staring competition with garcia. even after all this time, you couldn't help it, you can't take your eyes off her.

"santos, garcia... what's up?" you say stretching our words. why were they together and what did this have to with you?

"go on, santos, tell her," garcia says sternly, hands in her leather jacket. oh, she means business.

"y/l/n, i mean dr. y/l/n, i wanted to... apologize for my behaviour this morning. every case is important and every patient deserve our upmost care. i should've known better. i'm sorry," santos fiddles with her jacket zipper, avoiding eye contact.

you were just as shocked as this morning. "oh... okay, well, it's much appreciated. and you're right, you should've known better but... it's your first week and we are at a bar right now and i don't wanna talk about work, so if it's okay with you, it's water under the bridge,"

santos finally looks up, a smile adorns her face, "yeah, water under the bridge, i'd like that. thank you dr. y/l/n,"

"okay, that's all, santos. you can go now," garcia says.

santos scurries away to the other side of the bar with her age-mate colleagues leaving you with garcia.

tilting your head a bit, you give her a look, "okay, cut the bullshit, what was that about?"

"she kept bragging about getting off your case and needing a bigger challenge than wrapping gauze so i gently put her in her place," garcia shrugs like it's no big deal.

"and then brought her to do... that," you add.

"yeah, well, she was disrespecting you and i couldn't have that," garcia says with a seriousness, a protective seriousness, that you haven't seen in a while.

"i don't need you protecting me, yolanda, i'm a grown ass woman,"

"oh trust me i know you are," she says in a flirtatious manner but reigns it in quickly when she sees your deadpanned face. "i'm more than aware that you don't need my protection, but that doesn't mean i won't give it. i always will... even if you hate the sight of me."

you're silent for a moment, playing with the empty beer pint in front of you.

"i don't." you finally say. garcia looks at you, trying to decipher your words. "i don't hate the sight of you."

"you don't?" she asks, hope ever so present in her voice.

you shake your head. the next words bubbled to the surface and out of your mouth before you could stop it. "i miss you actually,"

"b-but you broke up with me? and i still don't know why."

"here's why, yolanda," you shifted in your seat to face the standing woman. "i broke up with you because you forgot about me. i don't know what was going on with you at the time and maybe i should've asked but i do know that i faded into the background. it was like... like you didn't see me anymore. so i did us both a favour."

garcia hangs her head in shame. "i-i had no idea you felt that way,"

"i'm not without fault i should've tried harder to communicate, i don't know," you shrug defeatedly .

"for what it's worth, i miss you too," she says taking one step closer to you. "and i really wanna fucking kiss you right now,"

"oh and there it is," you shake your head amused at her honesty.

"what, too soon?" she smirks.

you stare into her eyes and you know she means every word she's saying right now.

"okay, you can kiss me..." you say. garcia is quick to move in between your legs and cup your face. you put a hand on her forearm, "... on one condition,"

"name it. i'll do anything," she strokes your cheek with her thumb.

"i... want us to prioritize each other. but not like before. i mean intentionally. i... can't go through this again,"

"you won't. i promise," she says softly before drawing your face up to her hers closing the gap. a warm and comfortable feeling ran through your body as your lips touched. the kiss was soft and passionate. it would've gone on longer if your well-intentioned friends didn't ruin.

"let's goooooo!" langdon yells from the other side of the bar.

"get it girl," mckay joins in.

you pulled away from garcia laughing and slightly embarrassed. she strokes your hair. "so... does this mean i get a second chance?"

"yes... but you’re on probation so tread carefully," you say, kissing her once more, signing a new lease on your relationship.

[opalimagines]

Please Call Me Back

You go to New York City after Rick's blow up, and he realizes how badly he screwed up. Takes place during Frenemies Chapter Twelve.

Rick Tyler/gn!reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty, limiterless Rick is a jerk

Notes: I just always thought Rick should be an asshole to the reader while having his hourglass problem. Because he was kind of being one in canon anyway lmao.

"Has anyone heard from (Y/N)?"

Beth looked at Yolanda and Courtney before turning back to Rick. "No, we haven't been able to get a hold of them at all. I ended up tracking their phone, and they've been in New York City. It looks like they're visiting The Shade. The timing isn't great, but we're hoping they'll show up."

A pit formed in Rick's stomach as Beth spoke. At least you weren't in Blue Valley and unaccounted for, since that could mean you ran into Ultra-Humanite or Icicle, but it still wasn't good news. Because he knew full well that you wouldn't have gone to visit your father without letting the team know. Unless something more had happened.

"They left because of me..."

"Rick? Are you in there? I talked just talked to Beth–"

Rick wrenched his front door open, finding you on the other side, looking at him with worry. You were out of your costume by then, your left forearm covered in a red cast. There was a twinge of anger at the sight of it, but he looked back up at you. "What do you want?"

You flinched at his rough tone, and if he were in his right mind, he would've felt awful. "Beth told me what happened at her house. I wanted to check on you."

Rick chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, are you here to lecture me?"

"You were completely out of control last night, Rick. You have to have realized that." With the way he was acting at the Mahkent house, you were terrified that he could end up killing someone during the fight, whether it was Cameron or one of his grandparents. You'd never thought he would be capable of that. It simply wasn't him. "Something's very wrong with that hourglass, and we just want to help you."

"We? Because you're my friend too, right?" Rick took a few steps forward until he was right in front of you. "We both know you're just a freak with no friends, who's trying way too hard to be part of a team."

His words hit you right in the chest and knocked the wind out of you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to say something, but it was just silence.

"I'm not your boyfriend. What I do is none of your business, and I don't need your help. So leave me the hell alone for once."

"I–" You took a breath, trying to hold back the tears that attempted to escape. The last thing you wanted to do was make this more humiliating. "That thing is going to kill you, Rick."

Before he could say anything else, you were gone.

He'd felt attacked that day, so he lashed out at people who showed him nothing but kindness—you, Beth, her parents. You came to his house out of concern for him, and he said things he knew would cut you to the bone. He already felt disgusted with himself for hitting Courtney, so his behavior after only made it worse.

Yolanda started to say something, but Rick stood up and headed towards the kitchen, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He found your contact, the smile in your picture a contrast to the last time he saw you, and hit call.

It rang and rang, until finally...

"You've reached (Y/N). I'm busy right now, but leave a message, and I'll get back to you in a flash!"

There was a moment where he thought about hanging up, but he stayed on the line. "It's Rick. I'm–" He couldn't just apologize over a voicemail. "...Please call me back when you get this."

Rick hung the phone up and ran his hand back through his hair, hoping he'd hear from you soon.

Never know how I wanted to feel

Never quite said what I wanted to say to you

Never quite managed the words to explain to you

Never quite knew how to make them believable

And now the time has gone

Another time undone

Robert Smith's voice played over your headphones as you looked out over New York City, all the way from the top of the Empire State Building. After your encounter with Rick, you grabbed your Walkman and your most depressing tapes, then went to meet your father. He'd had his own experience with addiction and getting clean, which meant he could give you advice on how to best help Rick with his hourglass.

And having a little breather from what was happening in Blue Valley didn't hurt.

You'd arrived at Sand Hawkins' brownstone the day before and talked to your father—and even got to meet all the other legacies—but once it was a new day, you wanted some time alone to deal with your hurt feelings. You wanted to cry somewhere that almost no one else could reach. It didn't matter that New York wasn't as beautiful or comforting as Opal, not at that moment.

The wind had you pulling your jacket tighter around your body as you sniffled, wiping tears away with your sleeve. You'd already gathered that Rick didn't return your feelings, but you never imagined he'd say such terrible things. Even though you knew he was basically on drugs and out of his mind, it still hurt. And it hurt more when you realized that he must have figured out that you liked him at some point. Why else would he say some of the things he did?

You had every intention of going back to Blue Valley in a few hours to help with this voyeur situation and get Rick through this mess with the hourglass—if he would even accept that he had a problem—but there was a part of you thinking that after all of that was through, you should just be in New York with the rest of the superpowered 'freaks'. That maybe there was a grain of truth in Rick's words, and you weren't fitting in with the JSA quite as well as you thought.

Sighing, you scraped a fingernail over the rough surface of your cast. Jennie got everyone to sign it after you arrived, despite the fact that you'd only met Todd, Sand, and Grant that very same day. Even your father had written his name in neat cursive. Between the names, you'd scribbled a bunch of little doodles. Random things to fill the space. Your finger landed on the tiny Sonic and Tails near your wrist, and you hated that the sight of it caused a lump in your throat.

How did you ever think you had a chance?

A gentle tap to your shoulder nearly made you jump out of your skin, and you looked up to see your father, fully decked out as The Shade. You moved your headphones to hang around your neck as he offered you a handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping your damp cheeks with it, you gave him a halfhearted frown. "Why did you have to sneak up on me like that?"

"I called your name, my dear. You couldn't hear me over that noise you enjoy so much," he replied, teasing a bit in hopes that you'd smile.

You hugged your knees a bit tighter. "I said I would be back for dinner."

"Yes, and I am perfectly alright with that. But..." Your father produced your phone from the breast pocket of his coat and held it out to you. "...if I hear this thing make another sound today, I'm sending it to the Shadowlands."

Apparently, you'd left your phone at the brownstone. You were surprised you'd even had it on you when you arrived in New York, considering how you would forget it at the house pretty regularly. "It's been ringing that much?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

You unlocked it to be greeted with many notifications, mostly from Beth, Yolanda, and Courtney, and a few from Barbara even. But one caught your eye. A missed call and a voicemail from Rick. You quickly pressed play and held it up to your ear.

"It's Rick. I'm...Please call me back when you get this."

He sounded more like himself and less like the jerk you'd talked to the last time you saw him, which had you even more worried. Had something happened?

You glanced at the barrage of texts from the rest of the team wondering where you were and asking if you were okay. You couldn't help a bit of guilt knowing that you'd worried them by not mentioning your little trip.

The most recent message was from Beth:

Ultra-Humanite and Icicle are in Blue Valley!

"Oh, damnation." You got to your feet and showed your father the screen. "We've got trouble."

Shade's expression morphed into one of disgust as soon as he read those names. He didn't like any of his fellow villains much, but those two were high on the list. "Naturally, something interesting happens in Blue Valley only after I've left. I assume you won't be joining us for dinner?"

"Rain check?" You asked, shoving your phone into your pocket.

"Of course." He gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Good luck, my dear."

"Thanks, Papa."

You quickly hugged him before racing back to Blue Valley, hoping you weren't too late to help.

[hournites]

I have a potential prompt for a one shot if you are interested.

Would you write a fic where Rick (and the rest of the JSA) are worried about Beth but she finally shows up safely? Everyone is so relieved, especially Rick... so much so that he goes to hug her but he forgets that his hourglass hasn't completely run out yet and squeezes her too tight. Beth is all like "Uhh, Rick? I can't breathe!" So he quickly (and awkwardly) lets her go.

I think it could be slightly angsty but also cute.

The Disappearing Act

They meet back up behind the garage as planned. Yolanda slinks in from above a roof with Courtney blazing in on the seat of her staff behind her, not nearly as concerned for stealth.

Rick shakes his head at the two. “Where’s Jennie and Beth?”

“I’m here!” They all raise their heads up at the sound of her voice floating in the air.

"Wait." She quickly powers down, setting down her lantern as she shakes out her hand. “Where’s Beth?”

“What do you mean?” Rick questions. “She’s supposed to be with you.”

Jennie glances up from her ring with a sharp breath and glowing eyes. “No, she left me to find Courtney after you called.”

Courtney swerves around. “Me? I didn’t call her!”

Yolanda raises an eyebrow. “What call? I was with Court the whole time, she didn't call.”

“I don’t know, she got it through her goggles, so she left.” Jennie took a step back. “I would’ve gone with her, but we were meeting up here now anyway. I thought she’d be here.”

“So Beth’s gone?” Courtney cries. The cosmic staff flares up as she gets more agitated. “How could you lose Dr. Mid-Nite?”

“I didn’t lose her, Courtney, I trust Beth to make her own decisions. This isn’t my fault!”

“Alright!” Rick snaps, stepping between the two of them before things get out of hand. “It’s only been five minutes. How about we try actually calling her?”

Yolanda’s already on it, pressing a hand to the side of her helmet to get a signal through the coms as she stalks. “Dr. Mid-Nite, It’s Wildcat--Do you copy? Or hear me? Anything? Mid-Nite? Beth? Hellooo?”

Rick pulls down his hood and rakes his hand through his hair. “Where were you when this happened, Jennie?”

Jade light leaves Jennie’s eyes as she backs against a wall, holding herself stiffly. “I-I don’t remember."

"Well." Rick gives her five seconds. "Think harder."

"Okay! Okay! Um...I think we were near the office building for The American Dream.”

“Was anyone suspicious with you? Or around you?”

“What kind of question is that? Why would Jennie be with anyone suspicious?”

Courtney rolls her eyes. “I meant did she notice anything?”

“Beth this is Yolanda, this isn’t funny anymore. I’m serious, please say something....”

“No! I don’t think so!”

Rick spins on his heel.

“Where are you going?” Courtney yells after him. “We can’t split up now! What if there’s actually a villain out there?”

“That’s exactly why we need to find her instead of wasting more time.” Rick flips his hourglass. “You get Pat. I’m going to the American Dream with Jennie.”

“I’ll stay here,” Yolanda tells them. She whacks the side of her helmet again. "Dr. Mid-Nite, do you read me?"

Courtney points out her helmet isn’t broken. It’s just Beth not answering, which doesn't get well received by any of them.

"Geez!" Courtney hugs the staff to her chest, with a grimace, properly scolded. “Get Pat and shut up. I got it!”

~.~

Pat jogs out of the Pit Stop, wiping his sweaty brow with a rag when he hears the loud noise coming in from outside. “Did you find her?”

Rick kicks at the garbage cans lined up at the curb.

“I know you’re stressed.” Pat surveys the trash now littered along the sidewalk. “But you’re picking that up. And replacing those bins.”

"Fine!" Rick kicks another one.

Pat’s mouth thins into a straight line, evidently not being listened to.

“That would be a no,” Yolanda fills in with a frown. “Courtney’s circling around her neighbourhood. Pat checked the school. I’m still not getting anything from the coms.”

Rick lists off his search efforts in anxious detail, counting them out on his gloved fingers. “I tried the tunnels since her goggles don’t work down there. The ISA lair was empty. The cells were unlocked. I knocked down Grundy’s old cage, nothing.” He's frantic, tugging at the base of his hourglass, as though getting choked by his remaining time. “There’s nothing! I thought I could find that her goggles fell off or one of her gloves, anything—”

"Dr. Mid-Nite? Please answer. Make a noise if you can hear this. This is Wildcat, are you okay? Dr. Mid-Nite?"

“And I went back to the last place I saw her.” Jennie wilts, sinking down to sit on the steps. She wraps her arms around her knees, the lantern firmly placed at her feet. “This is my fault.”

Yolanda gives up on reaching Beth for a moment, taking a seat beside Jennie to console her.

“I should’ve paired with her,” Rick mutters, just barely loud enough for the others to hear. “We always do these stupid patrols together.”

“The patrols are not stupid!” Courtney butts in with a scoff. The Cosmic Staff charges at Rick in her defense. Unthinking, he swats it away with his strength, sending it flying out in the other direction.

“Hey! Don’t hurt the staff!”

“Whatever, Court!” Rick snaps. “Beth is actually missing and none of us have a clue as to where she is, we’re not going to be talking about your staff’s feelings—”

Yolanda wrings her hands and gets up abruptly. “Maybe the goggles malfunctioned again and she got lost somewhere.”

“She’s literally biked to every square foot of this town.”

“The goggles malfunctioning is a good theory, Yolanda.” Rick opens his mouth to retort and Pat continues before he can start another fight, “I’ve already given Barb a call in case she calls our house. Girls, why don’t you check your cell phones?”

The girls file back into the Pit Stop. Rick hovers by the door, reluctant to go in with them.

“Pat? Why aren’t you worried?” The tone borders on accusatory. Rick’s face is still covered by the dark mask, blending into the dark night, but his concern is transparent through his eyes.

Pat sighs. “It’s only been 2 hours. Beth is a smart girl.”

“She’s a smart, small, pretty girl in Blue Valley. A town full of murderers.”

“I’m well aware of that, Rick.” He pulls the rag out to wipe his face again. “But freaking out and hurting people’s feelings isn’t going to help anybody find her.”

“But—” Rick turns his face away, twisting the chain hanging from his neck again. “Sitting here isn’t helping either!”

We’re gathering clues and searching the town. I didn’t say we’re giving up.” Pat takes his time. “Look, I know you care about—”

“I just don’t know what I’d do if something bad happens to her!” He gestures at himself. “Or if this runs out and I can’t help her. It isn’t like Beth to….go silent.”

Pat claps a hand over the shoulder of Rick’s golden cape. “I know.”

“Pat!” Yolanda bursts out through the side door. Courtney and Jennie quick at her heels. “She’s okay! I heard her voice through the helmet! She’s on her way back!"

“What?” Rick shot up. “Where?”

Though he doesn’t have to look far. She’s at the corner, stumbling in her haste to get to them in the dark. The girls all scream and run and fly out to her, ignoring Pat’s insistence that Courtney and Jennie should at least try to conceal themselves in the middle of the road.

Rick sits back down heavy on the step, flooded with relief.

When Beth makes her way over, Pat checks to make sure she’s not wounded, but she waves him off, yanking down her green cowl. “I’m fine, Mr. Dugan. Just thirsty.”

“I’ll get you water!” Jennie practically shouts, rushing to the kitchenette inside the garage. “We’re never splitting up again!”

“What happened?” Pat exclaims. “We’ve searched the whole town!”

Her eyes slide to Rick and the glowing sand in his hourglass.

“You were all looking for me?”

“Yeah,” says Rick. “I was about to throw up.”

“Someone hacked into my goggles and faked Courtney’s call.” Beth cringes. “The Shade uh...wanted to talk?”

“The Shade?”

Courtney's curls whipped back violently. “He WHAT?”

“I’m okay!” Beth reassures them all again when they panic. “He messed up my goggles so I couldn’t use them until he finished what he had to say. He even dropped me off in his car by Richie’s when we were done talking.”

Courtney prompts, impatient, “And he talked to you about…?”

Beth sighs. “He’s giving Barbara an ultimatum about the Zarick artifacts.”

Yolanda grips onto her arm. “He kidnapped you to make a business arrangement?”

“He let me go afterwards!” Beth drops her gaze to her brown boots, feeling a bit embarrassed now that she sees how long she’s been gone. “He really wants that wand, Mr. Dugan.”

“I’m sure,” Pat says, rolling his eyes. “Barb and I will worry about the Zarick stuff tomorrow. We’re glad that you’re safe.”

Jennie returns with water and a snack. Beth takes a sip then excuses herself to change out of her Dr. Mid-Nite costume. When she returns, she settles next to Rick, who hasn’t said a word since their short exchange.

“So…” she starts timidly. “You were gonna throw up?”

Rick pulls her in for an embrace. She gasps. “Only you could have a whole civil conversation with a supervillain and walk out unscathed.”

“Rick! You’re crushing me!”

“Shit!” He lets go immediately when he feels the hard edge of the hourglass glowing in the wedge between them, reminding Rick his hugs right now would hurt. “Shit! Sorry! God, I’m sorry. I just didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” Beth throws her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Rick closes his eyes, eased. He’ll let her do the holding. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

“What?” He turns to look at her. She’s so close, still hugging him, he has to look away. “No, I was worried. I turned the tunnels upside down for you.”

“Oh.” Beth lets go, but taps on the glass as the final grains of sand slide through the pinhole. “Really?”

“I’d do it again.” He clears his throat and adds, “For all of you, I mean. If you disappeared, um…” He trails off, unsure of why he’s feeling so awkward.

But Beth merely nods, seeming to understand. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” They both look down at his chest, watching the hourglass to power down. Beth shoots him a timid smile. “Want to try that hug again?”

“Sure.” He stands up and extends out a hand, reeling her in.

[humaninpogresss77]

Stargirl: A pleasant surprise.

So I finished the season finale and I have a lot of thoughts about it, so here I would try to mention all of them.

1. Again, this show has gave me so much serotonin. Is a pleasant surprise to watch how good it is. The choreography, the chemistry of the characters, the CGI, the plot. I'm happy to watch each episode.

2. I wasn't completely sell with Eclipso at the beginning. How wrong I was. It did great.

3. Sometimes, the fact that you can predict something in the plot doesn't mean that when it happens is bad. I knew since the shadowlands episode that we were gonna have a corrupt Courtney and love was gonna be the part that was gonna pull her out. I love that scene anyway. Good plots are important, even if they are predictable.

4. One of the few things I was hoping is to keep the Crocks, the shade and Cindy. And that's exactly what we got, so I win.

5. I imagine a full green lantern should be a nightmare for the CGI budget; but I want more of Jennie. And I want her Jade costume. I know her we are more Alan Scott green lantern than lantern corps lantern but we can mix it up a little.

6. I was thinking, is not that what we got is bad, is that I want something a little different? I mean the JSA reunion. It felt that it needed to push that scene because there was so much other stuff going on, but after what the members suffer this season, I was hoping a moment more emotional. HOWEVER, the same reason of what they suffered this season, is why that reunion worked. Eclipso broke them, as a group, and individuals, so a happy reunion wasn't completely real. I just hope they don't brush the baggage for next season. I mean, what happened with Yolanda and the group is something to discuss. Also, Rick was in jail, for a long time, alone, and no one went to visit my boy.

7. Loving the dynamic between Cindy and the JSA. I hope that stay like that for a while. For funny moments.

8. Can Yolanda go live with the nice woman from the place they worked together? Also, where is Rick gonna live. Who is gonna be his legal guardian.

9. To be honest, I was worried about starman coming back. The CW and the arrowverse is known to take from the female lead to give to the white man. But that scene was very good, it worked in a way that shown him supporting Courtney and elevating her. So that's ok, so far. I hope stay that way.

10. Can I say that I love how they include Barbara in all of this? The family dynamic dealing with the superhero stuff is one of my favorite parts. I wonder if this new bad guy is gonna get interest in Barbara as well. It would be to keep the tradition for each season.

11. I really can't tell a single thing from Cameron yet. Poor boy has been so in the sides since this show started. I don't feel I can elaborate a single feeling towards this guy, because they haven't give me anything from him. Let's see what would happen next season now that he knows.

12. Can I say I freaking love Jackeem? he is amazing and I want him more.

13. I'm a little confused on how they are gonna made that suit, but I'm loving the over support of Beth's parents. That's how you are around your 100% amazing super hero daughter.

14. And speaking of Beth; I was a little worried they were gonna go with the "never met your heroes" thing some other shows use. But I love how supportive and proud Chuck is for Beth. That was a nice touch.

15. I'm still out of any ship. I can't stop seeing them as just small kids that should be doing homework and not get involve in any of this. That doesn't mean I don't see the ships interactions, chemistry and stuff; or for any chance, that I'm going to be against or pro any ship. I just don't ship here. If any of you do, please continue.

[canary-warrior]

Worth Staying For

I hope you all enjoy this Shivnite fic, which takes place in episode 12 of season 2!

While waiting for their search to complete, Beth decided to check on Jennie and found herself in the Whitmore-Dugan’s kitchen, waiting for the kettle to finish brewing so she could bring her another cup of tea. She also decided to fix a platter of snacks to leave at Jennie’s bedside in case she was still asleep, so she could have them when she woke up. Charles was in another room with Barbara, talking about the Shade and the shadowlands. Beth felt giddy, despite their current situation- she finally met her predecessor, and he approved of her taking over the Dr. Mid-Nite mantle. Nothing could ruin her mood.

“Hey, Mid-Nite junior,” none other than Cindy Burman waltzed into the kitchen. How she maintained perfect hair and smooth clothes after spending all this time in the shadowlands, Beth will never know. That being said, she refused to let the former head cheerleader damper her mood.

“What do you want, Cindy?” Beth asked, annoyed, grabbing a light blue plate from the cabinet. A quick glance at the charred wall reminded her that her priority right now was making sure Jennie was okay, not dealing with whatever Cindy Burman had up her sleeve. 

Cindy shrugged and leaned against the counter, watching as Beth put some crackers on the plate. “Can’t I say hi to my new teammate?”

Beth’s eyes shot up at the taller girl. “We are not teammates, Cindy.”

Cindy let out a chuckle. “We are working together to take down Eclipso, so I think that makes us teammates, to an extent.”

“And after that? You’ll, what, stab us in the back?” Beth turned away, not wanting to focus on the evil girl who tried to kill them a week ago. 

“I wouldn’t stab you in the back, Beth,” Cindy sounded almost bored, “you’re the smartest person on this team, you would see it coming anyway. Where’s the fun in that?”

Beth didn’t need any compliments from anyone, especially not from Cindy, but it did feel nice to be called the smartest member of the JSA. At this point, Beth didn’t even know what was happening with the JSA- Yolanda had quit, Rick was in jail, Jennie was on their side but she did leave to find her brother, Mike was off tracking down the Thunderbolt who was probably with a stranger… and here she was, conversing with Cindy in a broken kitchen, who complimented her intelligence. It was something Beth did not expect at all.

“What will you do,” Beth started, “when we beat Eclipso?”

“Leave this awful town and never look back,” Cindy answered automatically, but there was something in her voice. Something, wistful, almost. “You won’t have to worry about me coming after you.”

“I find that hard to believe. You could’ve disappeared after we defeated the ISA, but you came back to Blue Valley,” Beth pointed out. 

“Well, I wanted revenge against you and your loser friends. Now, I just want revenge against that purple demon,” her voice hardened at the mention of Eclipso. 

“And after you get your revenge on him?” Beth asked, her voice softer now.

Cindy’s eyes matched Beth’s tone. “I’ll leave, but there will always be something good in this wretched town that’s worth coming back for.”

Beth felt like Cindy was looking straight at her soul. Her goggles were working overtime, and showed how Cindy’s voice, breathing, and heart rate changed. Beth didn’t need to be a genius to do the math.

Was Cindy willing to stay in the town she hates for Beth?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Reader/ OC trying to keep her orgasms on the inside because she doesn’t like how she sounds.

This is going to be pretty long and detailed. Figured I could add this bit into an idea I had. I wanted to write it out just like this 😩.First time using an OC. Enjoy lovelies xoxoxo

Hello, it’s your girl Ebony here and you’re listening to The Love Zone. We already have a caller number one on the line...

“Hello?” Élise timidly spoke into the phone while seated in her dimly lit living room. There was a 100% chance of showers that evening and rainy nights were the perfect nights for her. Alone in a home she inherited from her grandmother in Marigny, New Orleans, Élise decided to call The Love Zone on WQUE-FM, New Orleans mainstream urban radio station. Ebony Starr was a famous Sexologist and radio personality from Bywater, New Orleans. She inspired Élise to start her own podcast that she titled Finally Exhaled which discusses overcoming past toxic relationships and starting new ones.

“Caller number one?” Ebony said into the microphone. Her voice echoed since Élise could hear it twice.

“Yes,” she licked some cocoa butter from her lips, “I’m caller number one.”

“Alright, love, do you have a question for me?”

“I’m a huge fan,” she nervously laughs, “Just...I didn’t expect you...to answer my call.”

“You’re so sweet, honey, thank you,” Ebony made Élise smile, “what’s your name?”

“Yolanda,” that was her mother’s name.

“Yolanda, Pretty name. I know a lot of Yolanda’s.”

“Yeah,” she toyed with her long dreaded hair.

“Why are you up so late, Yolanda? No work for tomorrow?”

It was 11:00 pm. She worked as a waitress in a bar and grill but that was just to keep busy. She was an only grandchild left with her grandmothers money. Her Father didn’t like the fact that she got everything. Typical. He wasn’t around so why did it matter to him?

“Work tomorrow evening,” she pondered for a moment, “Now I remember my question.”

Ebony laughs, “go ahead, what’s your question?”

Wiggling her toes at the fireplace she opens her mouth to speak, “How do I overcome being embarrassed by the way I sound when I orgasm and moan? I’m nervous to even ask this question but it’s been bothering me and I just...I don’t like it.”

“Hmm,” Ebony’s smooth hum reassured her, “Why don’t you like the way you sound, Yolanda?”

“It’s-its because I was told it was ugly mainly. My last boyfriend-shitty boyfriend by the way, told me I sounded like a dying animal,” Élise chuckles, “I want to move past that and embrace the way I sound whenever the moment happens for me again but...”

“You’re afraid the next man will find it just as ugly and look at you weird?”

“Yes, ugh,” Élise closes her eyes, “What the hell should I do?”

“Honestly? Embrace it. That sound is a beautiful sound, Yolanda. One of the sounds of love making. When it’s real and sudden like that it makes you stutter out incoherent words and sounds but only a real man, an experienced appreciative man, would love to hear those noises. How old were you when he told you this?”

“I was 20 years old. That was when we first started dating. A start to a long toxic relationship.” She didn’t mean to vent like that but she couldn’t help it. Her ex, Sean, was such an emotional abuser. He shot her down every chance he got to make her feel ugly. That was for four whole years. She was 25 now and wanted to heal from that.

“Oh, that explains it,” Ebony made a noise of disapproval, “See, boys don’t know a thing, honey. I’m happy you’re not in that toxic relationship anymore and there is a man out there that will love every screaming orgasm you have. Especially if he’s the cause.”

“I know you’re right but gosh,” what man anyway? The closest she’s ever come to a man since then was working at that bar and they all were too pushy and drunks. She was loosing all hope honestly.

“Yolanda, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Over a year ago.”

“You’re craving sex heavy, sweetie. You want to give yourself to someone badly and a year can do that. I don’t think it was only the way you sound it’s a trust thing as well. Sean betrayed your trust.

Bingo.

“I’m better now. I can trust but I just don’t know where to start.”

“There is no rush. Let it come to you, honey. Once it does...accept it. Feel it. If you can listen to yourself moan and shout when you orgasm alone then you can definitely do it in front of a man again. I bet you sound angelic.”

Élise blushes.

“I actually heard that smile through the phone, Ebony laughs, “Sweety, let that moan out, snatch a man’s soul, and feed that craving.”

Élise laughs pleasantly, “I really needed this thank you so much, Miss Starr.”

“Please, If you need to talk you could always come to my meet and greets and workshops in The French Quarter.”

“I’d like that,” Élise smiles wide with her high cheek bones, “thanks again, Ebony.”

“Thank you, Yolanda. Enjoy the rest of your evening, love.”

The line disconnected. Élise places her phone on the carpeted floor and thought about their conversation. She was pining for sex. She wanted her year back. A year of no dick or lips on her pussy. Sex toys over used and calling her name as we speak.

Let’s take it slow with some Beyoncé- Dangerously in Love 2...

Baby I love you/You are my life/My happiest moments weren’t complete if you weren’t by my side/You’re my relation/In connection to the sun/With you next to me/There’s no darkness I can’t overcome/You are my raindrops/ I am your seed...

The rain was coming down in sheets, banging against Élise’s rough top like bullets. There was no lightning or thunder. She was glad that she got the lighting in her grandmothers home fixed because if she didn’t the power would be out and Élise did not want to go into that cobwebbed basement to find candles. Last time she went down there she saw a possum. Élise has on nothing but a retro Voodoo Fishing T-shirt while seated in front of the fireplace. She finally stands, the heat of the flames warming her butt before she walked back to the couch where her crinkled copy of Roar of Thunder, Hear My Cry rested on top of a quilt.

She couldn’t sleep and Beyoncé had her singing with her eyes closed. Grabbing her Walt Disney World coffee mug that had lukewarm herbal tea in it, Élise snuggled into the couch while facing a small window just above the heater in her living room.

I hope everyone is being safe on this stormy Friday night. We have another caller on the line, caller number two?

Élise tunes in.

“I’m still unfaithful to my husband. I can’t shake the need to be with the other man. Just tonight I came home after frantic car sex in an open lot. I want to tell him...I want to tell him I’m happy with the other man.”

“Wow,” Élise loves this juicy talk. She could faintly hear Rihanna-Unfaithful play in the background which causes her to giggle. Ebony was hilarious.

Whew, honey, juggling two men?

“SHIT!”

Élise’s head shot up from the couch. The angry shout came from outside. Maybe someone was locked out the house, she thought. Élise covered herself with the quilt further to listen to more of The Love Zone.

You are killing this man. Just tell him the truth. I can hear the pain in your voice. If you want to end this the right way stop stringing him along and communicate...

Thump

A rather loud kick could be heard from outside. Now, her interest was peaked. Élise tosses the quilt back , tiptoeing to the window with her mug still in hand. She could see a little better only because the house had a porch. But it was still foggy. A man was outside with his hazards flashing. He had to have been out there for a minute with how drenched he was messing under the hood of his car. No lightning or thunder. Just the rain, but the rain was more than enough to make the situation extremely uncomfortable.

Élise couldn’t see him that clearly as he hopped in and out of his car every minute or so, probably trying to warm up before trying something else to get his car moving again. Thanks to the street lamp about twenty feet from where he parked she could make out the type of car. A Ford Mustang 2006. It was parked beside a neighbor of hers that she didn’t like at all. His name was Kevin and he was a white supremacist. Nothing new in the South. No family but she could have sworn she heard screams from his house...

“Fuck!” The man shouts again. Élise felt kind of guilty. She had no idea why. She was sure most of her neighbors saw him stranded out there as well. As quiet as her neighborhood is, something out of the ordinary rarely goes unnoticed. However, the fact that the man was still out there struggling on one of the worst nights, weather-wise, of the year didn’t sit right with her. What harm would it be to offer to let him into her home so he could properly make a call for a Tow service or have a nice cup of tea and a hot meal? Loan a flashlight, or let him warm up by the fireplace for a moment?

Élise stares down at what she was wearing again. That retro Voodoo Fishing T-shirt. Élise went to the closet to grab her red longline puffer coat and black Hunter rain boots. She grabs a flashlight from the closet shelf, trying it out to see if it worked. A couple slaps with it to the palm of her hand made the old thing ignite and she was headed for the door. Élise swung the front door open like a women on a mission. She stomps across her front porch and right down the steps, pulling the back of her coat up over her head to keep from getting her dreads wet.

“Excuse me!” She yelled out from the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from where the man was parked. He looked in her direction, and she could finally make out his soaked face. She was not disappointed.

“Wassup?!” He responded loudly, “This rain is a bitch!”

“Yeah, it is! Do you need some help?! It’s pretty cold out too my place is warm!”

He kept a steady gaze on her from under his hood. He had this look on his face as if that were a bad idea. Now, Élise was regretting it.

“Are you waiting for someone?!” She started up the conversation again. Her legs were so wet now.

“Nah!” He shook his head and from what Élise could make out she saw short dreads fall over his forehead, “Listen, it’s bad out here, sweetheart why don’t you go back inside, huh?!”

“You sure?!” She pointed her flashlight to the house, “My offer still stands if you change your mind!”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, ma!”

Even though it was dark she could see his smile. Damn, he was good-looking. All that out here melting in the rain. Élise turned to run back to the porch only to fall right on the concrete. She felt both her knees hit the ground. She wailed in pain. Her hands planted to the ground and she tried lifting up but her rain boots slipped right from under her. She could feel hot tears prick her eyes.

“SHIT!!! Hey, Ma!” He called out. Élise could hear heavy feet splashing in the flooded streets and then a pair of wet hands grabbing her waist and lifting her all the way up into bridal style. She squinted her eyes up at the nice-looking man with the fucked up car. He started walking back to her porch. He sat her down on an old chained swing chair before removing his black hoodie and tossing it on the swing chair with her. It was probably uncomfortable walking around with heavily soaked fabric. One thing was for sure: he was built. He had on a charcoal gray tee that was hugging his body something fierce. Élise could make out his physique thanks to him being up close and personal now. Then there was those dreads. They fit his rugged look so perfectly. He definitely wasn’t from around here.

“What are you doing out here? It’s bad, sweetheart, you could have cracked your head open on the ground instead.”

She blinked up at him with timid eyes. He softened his stern ones before his eyes closed. His hands finger combed his dreads back before he shook his head to stop the dripping water.

“My bad,” he looked down at her on the swing chair, “you’re probably thinking who the fuck he think he is talking to me,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Not at all,” Élise looked away and down at her lap. He was right. She was so quick to come running to the rescue. It was almost flooded outside.

“Let me see the damage,” He crouches down to look at her knees, “just scraped skin but it needs to be cleaned off.”

His onyx eyes landed on hers before turning back to his car. Élise studies the back of his smooth neck and the curve of his ears. It seemed like forever that he was staring at his car.

“I have everything in my house I can take care of it. Thank you though.”

He turned back with a tilt of his head. His eyes looked up at her house while his fingers lazily drummed on the swing chair.

“My name is Erik.” He reached out to shake her hand.

“I’m Élise,” she grabbed it and noticed some cuts on his knuckles, “looks like you need some help too.”

Erik drew his hand back before covering his knuckles by folding his arms, “Shit, I forgot that was even there.”

“No worries, I’m not afraid of blood.” She clarified.

“You must not be afraid of much talking to a stranger at 12 in the morning in the rain.”

His tone was serious. Élise looked away from him with a shy smile.

“I have a big heart and my shitty neighbors wouldn’t help you out so I figured what the hell I can do it.”

“Not much happens around here, huh?” He asked with attentive eyes.

“No, it’s pretty quiet,” she took in every inch of him with her eyes. The tight charcoal gray shirt was damp and exposing every single muscle. She liked his short dreads, almond colored skin, and long, sexy eyelashes.

“You could have knocked on someone’s door to give you a jump.”

“Ha,” his chuckle was dry, “You don’t answer doors when strangers knock, baby girl. And I don’t trust knocking on doors in this neighborhood. I’m lucky you even stepped out,” he smiled faintly, “like a breath of fresh air.”

“I agree,” she changed it up, “it’s just-“

“Don’t explain yourself. It’s cool,” Erik stands, stretching out the muscles in his arms. His eyes were studying her home with a new found curiosity.

“In this world we live in, you never know what you might find knocking on someone’s door. Most people are suspicious, especially of us black men.”

“True,” she stood with him, wrapping her coat around her, “so...do you wanna come in?”

He licked his lips and placed his hands in his black cargo pants pockets. He looked like he was freezing and she could see his cold breath.

“Erik, I have blankets and dry shirts,” she beemed up at him.

He squinted his eyes playfully at her before his head fell forward with defeat. Success.

“A blanket does sound nice. But, as tiny as you are, I doubt I could fit into one of your shirts.”

Élise thought she saw a flicker of lust in his eyes when he said that. At least, a part of her hoped she saw lust.

“Unless...” He gave her quizzical expression, “your boyfriend got some shirt he left behind.”

Élise blushes, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

She could tell he was fighting a grin. Élise finally turned to lead the way back into her place, Erik grabbing his hoodie and walking through the door. The second he ended up in there he felt his body defrost and dry.

“Fuck,” he ran his hands over his short dreads, “I’m glad I let my pride down for once and let you help me. A nigga was cold.”

“Uh-Huh,” Élise laughs, “I see your skin warming up, Erik.”

“Oh yeah, I’m nice and toasty now,” He smiles flirtatiously.

“Hungry? Thirsty?”

“Nah, I’m cool.”

“Tow service?”

“Not available and...I’d rather not,” His jaw clenched.

“Well...” Élise shrugs, “looks like you’re staying the night, Erik.”

Erik raised a brow at her before looking around him to get acquainted.

She felt comfortable with him even though he was considered a stranger. Her grandmother would have higher blood pressure than what she already had if she knew what she’d just done. The thought of having some kind of company that night made her feel a lot better and less lonely. Élise finally locks her door and went to her closet to take off her boots and coat. It was all or nothing.

“Closet is free to put your boots and hoodie in.”

She was so damn comfortable around him that she forgot about only being in her T-shirt. Erik stood back with his arms folded watching Élise move and the fabric of the shirt sink in between her ass cheeks. She was sexy for sure. The second she kicked off her boots Erik could see the flesh of her butt... bare flesh.

This girl is serious? He thought.

Ass swinging while she moved. She was a cutie with a nice body. Alone in this big home. All that alone with no man. Shit didn’t make sense. Maybe she was just fucking someone. Erik began walking up to her while she took off her puffer coat to hang. Long slender dreads with shells in it. He wanted to pull on the coarse hair.

“Thanks, Élise,” He was so stealthy that she hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to her. Elise’s back stiffened and her body tried to step away to give him space but Erik was already taking off his boots and hanging up his hoodie. She caught a whiff of his cologne causing her to nibble on her bottom lip. He didn’t smell like liquor and cigarettes like the men at the bar and grill she worked at. He smelled like rain, sweat, and what she recognized was Gucci Guilty men’s cologne. She remembered that smell from when she was in Macy’s sniffing around in the perfume section. It was intimate and warm at the same time.

“Don’t worry, your blankets will smell like me even when I leave, baby girl.”

She was caught red handed.

“I’m sorry,” she stroked a few dreads from her face, “Your cologne smells really good.”

We’re they really standing in the closet? She dropped the flashlight on the floor when Erik leaned in towards her to smell her now. He was more than comfortable around her. He acted like he knew her.

“You smell like coconut oil,” He gave her a coy smile, “I like that.” Erik crouched down in the small space to pick up the flashlight.

“T-thanks.” Élise licked her dry lips. She needs more cocoa butter.

“So, nice closet,” He teased.

“Yeah...very spacious,” she awkwardly tried to joke back.

Just show me around, ma, since I’m gonna be sleeping here tonight. Unless...you changed your mind?”

He leaned in toward her with a slight raise of his brow and parted lips. He knew he had hers shooken up.

“Yeah, I have a spare bedroom and the couch pulls out into a bed.”

Erik’s eyes trailed up and down her body, “Pull out couch is fine.”

Élise finally let out the breath she’d been holding once Erik stepped away and into her living room. She watched him look around like he was in a museum, staring at her family photos and the art on the walls. Élise has redecorated since moving in two years ago.

“This you?” Erik had a wide smile on his face while pointing to a photo on the ledge of the fireplace. Élise walked over, spotting the photo in question. Oh, yes, when her hair was in a kinky fro, nose piercing, college T-shirt on two sizes too small, tiny denim shorts, and laying in the grass with her ass sitting out and ready to be grabbed.

“Looking like a little rebel,” He picked that photo up studying it with unrelenting eyes. She shuddered.

“Very sexy,” Erik commented and then he gave Élise that look. She turned away from him; she didn’t want him to see the desire in her eyes. She was beginning to have second thoughts about kissing and possibly fucking a complete stranger. No need to deny herself her own thoughts. She’s been thinking that the second he looked up at her from across the street in the rain.

“Where are you from, Erik?”

He placed the picture back on the fireplace ledge, “California.”

Élise was intrigued.

“Why New Orleans?” She followed him to the couch where he started pulling it out into a bed.

“Business,” He kept it short. She didn’t pry further because she sensed that he didn’t want her to know the nature of his “business.”

“How do you like it so far?”

He gathered the bottom of his shirt, bringing it up and over his head while his zealous eyes never left hers, “It’s cool, I’ve been before during Mardi Gras.”

She froze. Was his skin naturally like that? It wouldn’t make since with how neat the bumps were. What would make him do that? He didn’t seem bothered by her eyes taking it all in or the wondering crease in her brow. He wouldn’t tell her, she knew that. The shit was going to eat her alive.

She snapped out of her daze, “I haven’t been to a Mardi Gras since I was 21.”

“Why?” He settles down shirtless on the pullout. His body bathed in the fire. She could feel her tongue tingling to taste his skin. Erik is so sexy.

“It’s so damn wild.”

“Please, girl,” He laughs, “Drunk white people acting a fool ain’t our kind of wild.”

They both laughed.

“When I came that shit was dead i was not partying with them. So, me and a friend hit up some urban spots and listened to some upbeat jazz and ate Cajun food. I met a chick and had some fun with her.”

What kind of fun?

“Sounds a lot better than the time I went.”

Élise stares down at her scraped knees. The crimson peeked through the tiny scratches. Now that her attention was there it was beginning to burn.

“Where’s your bathroom so we can get those cuts cleaned, baby girl?”

Élise pointed to her stairwell, “Upstairs. I can bring it down you don’t have to come with me.”

“Well,” Erik had a roguish expression on his face, “what if I wanna see what upstairs looks like?”

Her wary eyes stared at his wry expression. Erik was definitely being very coy with her.

“You won’t find anything interesting upstairs except for my bedroom.”

Élise’s wistful expression let Erik know without even saying it flat out that she wanted him in her room. He fixed his eyes on her for being that bold with him. She wasn’t so shy. She was a little rebel.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Élise tries to play it off, “I should probably shut up.”

“Let’s go,” Erik stood up, holding his hand out to her. Élise grabs his hand, leading Erik to the staircase and up the creaky steps. It was dark and chilly in the hallway since she didn’t turn on the heat upstairs. She could hear Erik shiver even though his hand was still warm. They made it to her bathroom, Élise turning on the light. She hadn’t changed it around much. Her grandmother still had Élise’s potty from when she was a baby in there. She never let go of things.

“My guess is this house belonged to your grandmother?” Erik finally spoke while standing at the sink.

“Yep. She passed away from breast cancer two years ago.”

“I know how that shit feels, trust me,” Erik opened her medicine cabinet to find a withering first aid kit, “I lost my mom and my dad so I understand.”

Erik motioned for Élise to come to him. When she did he picked her up and sat her on the edge of the sink. Her short yet thick legs swung back and forth reminding her of when she was a child. Erik opened the kit and grabbed some gauze dressing, peroxide, and neosporin.

“You must really enjoy picking me up, stranger,” Élise’s playful eyes sought out Erik’s and the second he smiled revealing those deep dimples in his cheeks she crossed her legs to simmer the heat growing between them. Even the grip she had on the edge of the sing became firmer.

there is a man out there that will love every screaming orgasm you have. Especially if he’s the cause.

Ebony’s words spoke to her again. She was thinking about the sounds she would make if Erik fucked her. He was still shirtless, his cargo pants riding low on his hips showing her that chiseled v-cut of his, and those lashes with his onyx eyes blinked at her like he was trying to read her mind. Lord knows Élise wanted to read his. He was so mysterious and unreadable and that didn’t scare her. It made her want to stake her claim on him. He was visiting New Orleans and maybe she could show him around and they could have some fun of their own. Élise was lonely and friends weren’t enough to fill the void. Not really much family left either. She needed the warmth and comfort of a man.

But Erik looked like the type to break you down piece by piece. She wouldn’t mind him turning her out. Élise didn’t know how long she was staring but Erik’s soft fingers tapping the sides of her thighs broke her out of her dreamy state. Staring down, she could see the fresh gauze covering her wounds. Élise bit into her lip and without being able to control it her high cheek bones puffed out. He made her blush over everything. Why couldn’t he be from New Orleans and not California? Once he left she wouldn’t find another guy around like him. She already crushed on him and she hardly even knew him.

“What did I do to make you blush, pretty girl?”

“What didn’t you do, Erik,” She reaches out for his hands, “let me see.”

He came in closer between her legs, giving her permission to grab his hands and examine his scarred knuckles. It looked pretty bad. Did he beat a brick wall or somebody’s face? She glanced up at him briefly and without saying a word she tended his wounds. His searching expression made her belly flit like butterfly wings. Now, she was rubbing neosporin in carefully. She could feel his eyes leering at her in a sexually suggestive way.

“These are pretty fresh,” she muttered. Élise’s eyes looked from his Adam’s apple bobbing from swallowing spit to his teeth nibbling the corner of his full pouty lip. He didn’t look at her when she said that.

“That’s because they are, Élise,” he says with a low voice. She started wrapping the gauze dressing around his hand. After she was done she didn’t let his hands go. Élise surely didn’t want to. They stood in a comfortable silence and it gave her time to think about his fresh wounds. He didn’t look like the type to go around beating brick walls but faces? That was definitely the answer. And surprisingly, Élise wasn’t afraid. If Erik wanted to rob her or kill her he would have done that already. Instead he was kind to her and he looked at her like he wanted to fuck her. She liked that look a lot.

“Élise.” Erik spoke earnestly.

“Yes?” She said with a soft-spoken voice.

“You’re not afraid of me. Why?”

“Because I know you won’t hurt me.”

She noticed him watching the way her lips moved when she said that. He was admiring the shape of them. Her lips were the perfect proportion. Perfectly symmetrical on the left and the right. Full lips with volume and a plump pout.

“Yeah, baby girl, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“...but you did hurt someone...”

Erik glides his tongue over his upper teeth, responding but completely ignoring her question, “what if I kissed you right now? That wouldn’t change your mind?”

“No.” Élise said gazing into his eyes.

Erik leans in with his hands bracing the sides of the sink. His lips sparingly touched hers as he spoke. Élise clings to every word while her low eyes stared at his mouth.

“If you lettin’ me put my mouth on yours then you’ll let me put something else on you...am I right?”

Élise has an anxious feeling and Erik wasn’t helping when the flesh of his bottom lip tickled hers every time he spoke. Now, her eyelids were fluttering. Still in nothing but that retro Voodoo Fishing T-shirt and no panties. She wondered if he could smell her arousal towards him.

“Erik-“

“Just answer the question, Élise.”

“Yes, I would.”

“If you’re not afraid of me you would answer my questions,” Erik moved his lips to her ear, his hard chest touching her clothed one. Élise shuddered when his warm breath tickled her ear, “Why are you so comfortable around me with this little ass T-shirt on and no panties?”

“H-How do you know I don’t have on panties?”

“Because,” the hair from his beard touched her neck, “I could see that ass from the back when you were in that closet, ma.”

She hung on to his captivating voice while staring at the side of his neck. Élise was sweating from how turned on she was and he didn’t even kiss her yet.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You act like you know me...what if I would have pulled that shirt up to get a better look at that ass?”

Élise gasps at his words, turning to look at him with alluring eyes. What if he would have done that? He was already so close to her. Now she was imagining him bending her over in that closet and going deep in her pussy from the back. She found that to be very sexy and thrilling. Élise’s grandmother was probably turning over in her grave right now. Her granddaughter letting a strange and clearly very dangerous man into her home and allowing him to seduce her. 

Erik takes his hands to rest on her thighs. He moved them up and down in a slow motion keeping a steady gaze on Élise to see if she would flinch away. No, she was enjoying the firmness of his hands. He knew exactly what he was doing. Élise could feel his fingertips hit the bottom of her T-shirt. Damn...he was so close.

“Élise, you so damn thick, girl.”

“Thank you.” She bit down on her tongue to fight her ugly moan. At least that’s what she thought it was. Her eyes descended when she felt Erik lift the bottom of her shirt. Unhurried and gentle Erik lifts that T-shirt up to reveal Élise’s shaved mound. The phat flesh sat between her plush thighs like a surprise treat.

“Damn, you just letting me do this, huh?”

“Yes,” she let out an airy sigh, “I am.”

“Been too long, ma?” Erik had a wolfish expression on his face, “shit, you nice and phat down there too.”

Erik pulled her shirt back down and Élise’s heart sank before his pillowy lips finally connected with hers so suddenly. Her head almost collided with the mirror from how alarmed she was. Her hands reached up to cup his face while she allowed this man to fuck her mouth with his tongue. She tried to keep up with him but in the end Erik conquered her. His mouth tasted amazing. Now, he was gripping her curvy waist with his forceful hands and practically pulling her into his body. Their heads moved from side to side and their lips smacked and sucked on each other’s. A tiny yelp escaped her mouth when Erik sank his teeth into her bottom lip before drawing back. He licks his lips in one motion all the way around his mouth and Élise was officially hungry for more of him. A man coming in from the rain. A man she would have never expected would be kissing her on her bathroom sink. It was so risky.

“Ahhhh!” She moaned instantaneously. His lips and teeth were on her neck. Shit, Élise actually moaned. Why was she even worried? She actually sounded quite nice. Erik was bruising her skin with the right suction of his lips. If it felt like that on her neck it would feel just as good on her hard nipples and clit. The surface of the sink was moist from her pussy rubbing and gliding along the surface.

“Taste so goddam good, girl,” he flattened his tongue and licked her neck, “so sweet.”

“God, Erik,” she moaned, “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me.”

“I can,” He chuckles, “You like that I’m doing this to you. I can tell you’ve been loosing out, ma, got you all sweaty and breathing deep.”

“I just can’t...believe...fuck, Erik.”

His hands grabbed her breasts, circling them and tweaking her nipples through her shirt. He was torturing her at this point. Élise wanted him to rip that shirt off her body.

“You’re driving me crazy,” She whispered, “Erik,” her voice was so hushed and heavenly. The man in question was just as frazzled as her. Panting, a sheen of sweat on his skin, his dick hardening and thickening against her inner thighs.

“Élise...I wanna fuck you.” He grabs her hips to keep her still, “listen to me,” his thumb came up to stroke her dimples chin, “...I wanna fuck you so good, girl. You need to take some good dick.”

“It’s been so long,” she bit into her pouty lip.

“Shit, how long?” He was running his hands through her dreaded strands.

“I feel,” she shivers, “I feel so embarrassed saying it,” Élise’s murmured like she was telling a huge secret.

“You can tell me...don’t be scared, girl.”

“A year,” she closed her eyes.

What the fuck. An entire year. Élise was yearning, longing, craving, and hungry for some dick and attention. Part of Erik wondered if that was one of the reasons why she let him into her home.

“Aye,” Erik soothes her, “that’s a long time, baby girl, but I can help you out with that,” Erik takes her hand to kiss it gently before speaking against her knuckles, “I can make you feel better....”

“Erik.”

“You know you want me to...let me make you feel good...” He kissed her hand again while staring into her eyes. Erik felt her thighs quiver around his waist.

“I got you, ma.”

“Erik,” she kept whispering at him and it had him grunting and painfully hard, “I’m so wet, I can’t believe it...Erik.”

She’s so beautiful. God, Erik needed this right now. He needed her ass.

“Élise, girl, I swear to fucking God-“

“Erik, please, Erik.”

Élise unexpectantly lifts both of her legs to the sink, her entire T-shirt bunched up around her waist now showing Erik all that wet juicy pink. Pussy looking like a wet piece of fruit. A peach drizzled in honey. Tight slit with puffy suckable lips. Erik’s eyes were vicious. He reached out to keep her thighs back since she wanted it that way. Then, in a blink of an eye, he had her pushed back against the mirror with her ass hanging over the edge of that sink.

“Oh? You itchin’ for me, ain’t you? opening up your fucking legs like that. Just telling me I can have it? Girl, I will beat this pussy up right on this motherfucking sink. Fucking playing with me if you want...”

She caved when she saw him spit thickly on her pussy. She drew her lips into her mouth. Élise could feel the saliva practically slap her clit. He was so fucking nasty. She just knew that Erik would have her making all types of noises.

“Still ain’t scared, huh?”

“No.” Her voice shook even though she said no.

Erik’s head went down between her legs. He stuck his tongue out as far as it could go and began licking the underside of her clit back and forth. Élise clenched her teeth, the sounds begging to escape her mouth.

“I don’t hear nothing. If you ain’t afraid why don’t I hear you moaning, baby girl?”

Erik went in again slurping her up and licking in a deadly pattern. She felt him tug on her clit and inner folds. She was ready to cum already.

“Erik, Erik I-Stop it, I’m-Erik, please, please I’m-oh my God you’re-you’re making me-Ooooh you’re making me-“

Like it wasn’t in her own control, Élise moaned as her orgasm erupted from her. Her eyes squeezed shut and the so called animalistic sounds escaped her mouth. She was choking on her moans and she hated that she couldn’t control it but this fucking man...he was eating her. Making up for that year. Every month fueling him to suck and lick on that pussy some more. Even after she came he still covered her with his entire mouth and spit. She waited and waited for him to say she sounded ugly or look at her bizarrely but no. Instead he says...

“Good fucking girl. That’s right, cum in this mouth. Shit, cum all you want, do it, baby girl.”

Thank god for his car breaking down.

“Yes!”

“Uh-Huh, you want some more!”

She nodded her head with vigorously.

“Look at you,” Erik bit his lip while thumbing her clit, “look at you shaking and moaning,” his motions increased, “cumming again? That pussy cummimg for me? she ready to bust for me, Élise?”

“Mmmm, Erikkkk, baybeee!”

“You just keep on going?” He smiled.

“I-I’m sorry,” her body spasmed, “I can make a lot of mess.”

Élise was referring to her squirting habit.

“You can squirt all over Daddy whenever you like,” He inserts two fingers inside of her. She rolled her eyes shut, body vanquished but feeining for more.

“Grabbing my fingers like that? Gon’ head and cum...better yet fuck these fingers. Get you some, ma, pop that pussy on these fingers.”

Her hips lifted to get all of his fingers as he dug deep.

“Ooh...ooh...look at you...got my dick heavy in these pants.”

Élise watched him grab his dick. He was so long. She couldn’t wait to see it. And fuck it. And suck it...

“Damn, shit, I can’t wait to pound that puss.”

She shouted out again, pussy convulsing around his thick fingers. Her throat was raw from how hard she screamed.

“So fucking beautiful. Shit don’t make no sense.”

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh@chaneajoyyy@pananegra@theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah@moonlight-night-sky @eyeknowmywrites  @crowngold@njadakillthiscookie@blktinkerbell@luvanxi @sheisexcellent1@chocolatedippedinhoney@brandithecrystalgem@dababydababydababydababy@soulfulbeauty19@btitannaaa@sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted@harleycativy @rbhp@thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone@bugngiz@palmstreesallday@skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @rent-emspoons @abluesforlyssa

[poc-movie-supremacy]

My Dad

A.N.: Pat with all of his kids! That’s kinda it. I hope you like it! Comments and likes are appreciated. (I do not own anything related to the Stargirl tv show or the comics) :D

----

Pat didn’t plan on being a Dad. The superhero gig took up most of his time. He was fine with it too. He knows he’d only get a kid if he had time for one. Sylvester was the one who really wanted kids. Pat was more focused on keeping him alive to see him or her or they grow up. Sylvester was pushy though. Late nights when they were relaxing after patrolling he would day dream about little feet running about. 

He finally got his wish years into their superhero routine. Sylvester and Pat had been living together for years. If they could get married, it would’ve been their 4th anniversary, and on that day, they brought home little Mike Pemberton Dugan. They argued for a long time on what his last name should be. In the end they flipped a coin and Dugan won. Life was fine for a few years. Then the ISA got worse. Pat begged Sylvester to not go and fight, but he wouldn’t listen. 

“What happens if I don’t show up, Pat?” Sylvester would always ask him. “If I don’t show up, what kind of world would Mikey be subjected to?”

“A world without you,” Pat would always think, but never say. Eventually Sylvester would win the argument, and Pat thought it was the worst choice he ever made. It was a couple weeks before Christmas, Mikey was turning two. He was babling and walking down around the house, elated when Sylvester would come home. 

Sylvester and the rest of the gang went out giving Pat specific instructions to watch over the kids. Pat didn’t listen. He found a sitter and paid her good money before rushing out to join them. 

He was too late.

He was too late.

He was too late. 

It kept running in his head, “He was too late.” The ISA had won and almost all of the JSA had died. Pat didn’t know what to do. How do you tell the little boy waiting at home that his other dad wasn’t ever coming home? 

Mikey didn’t take it too well. He became moody and irritable overnight. A small funeral for the deceased JSA members was held a few weeks after their deaths, two days after Christmas. Him and Mikey were on their own after that. Pat tried to date other people, but nothing seemed to stick. Besides, the ISA were still out there so there were other things to worry about than dating. 

Then he met Barbra. She was the sweetest, prettiest woman he had ever met. He thought, maybe, it was time to settle down again. Courtney was a slight problem though. She didn’t take too kindly to Pat. He thought maybe he should end things with Barbra, but she promised everything was going to be okay. And it was, Courtney, very slowly, opened up to Pat. Trust was there, and Pat tried so hard to be a good not-dad for her.  Then it broke when they had to move. 

She wasn’t happy about the move, Pat knew that. He also knew that he wasn’t her biological father, but he wasn’t going to let her get into danger fighting Brainwave. His brain screeched at him to acknowledge that Sylvester had another kid, but he shoved it down. That possibility could be dealt with later. Right now he had to figure out a way to keep his step daughter alive. 

Joey Zarik dies and Pat has nightmares that it could’ve been Courtney. 

Rick Harris seems like a nice kid. Troubled though, and Courtney figures out that he’s a legacy, Hourman’s kid. Pat was surprised, the kid’s grown up a lot since he last saw him. He decides to give him a gift, a piece of the car that he remembered Rick needing. At his house, something felt off. Rick’s uncle reeked of alcohol and he didn’t seem like the nicest person in the world. Pat didn’t want to say anything yet, he opted to just keep an eye on Rick whenever he could. 

He hears that Courtney recruited a bunch of other kids, Rick included, to join the Junior JSA. Pat wonders if he has grey hair yet. He knows he’s going to get an ulcer soon. Sylvester would probably laugh at him. Pat spends most of his time planning on different strategies to keep them safe. 

He fails. 

He tried so hard to prevent this, but Beth gets injured. They were fighting off Tigress and she was out for blood. Rick picked up Beth and cradled her in his arms. Pat picked them up in his giant robot hand and flew them off. Barbra was waiting for them in the auto shop and immediately went to help Rick with Beth. Pat pointed out where the antidote was then flew back to help Courtney and Yolanda. 

Despite the fear in his heart, he couldn’t help but feel pride at watching Courtney and Yolanda fight. They have improved so much, their moves were more precise and graceful. Pat stayed back and only attacked when needed. 

They managed to knock Tigris out. Courtney and Yolanda dragged her body over to pat and together all four of them flew back to the auto shop. Barbra was taking Beth’s temperature while Rick clutched Beth’s hand. 

Court and Yolanda took Trigis to the basement of the auto shop then put as many heavy objects as they could over the door. Sure it was a fire hazard, but they figured if worst comes to worst, Rick could move all the stuff off the door.  

“How is she?” Yolanda asked. Rick was quiet, Pat noticed his usual brooding borderline angry look was replaced by complete sadness. He looked like his world was falling apart. Pat filed that detail away for later. 

“She seems to be fine, currently she has a low fever and in a minute I’ll take her to the emergency room so they can monitor her.” Barbra replied clipped and profesional.  

“She should be fine, guys. Green Lantern was hit with it once and he survived. I’ll call all your parents and tell them that you’re having a sleepover.” Pat reassured. 

“But that doesn’t cover how Beth got poisoned.” Courtney almost yelled. She was pacing around fiddling with her fingers. Rick still hasn’t said anything, his eyes never straying from Beth’s face. Yoland crossed her arms and eyed Pat defensively as if asking, she’s right Mr. Dugan.

“I’ll think of something. For now, all of you get changed out of your uniforms. Take a shower, I’ll talk to your parents. Then we’ll take a trip to the emergency room.” Yolanda and Courtney left to go change while Barbra went to fix up the car so it could take Beth to the emergency room. Rick stayed though. 

“Rick, she’s going to be fine. You need to change.”

“It should’ve been me.”

“Rick.”

“If I was just fast enough, then it would be me instead of her injured. It should’ve been me ‘cause now she has a fever and she’s in pain. And I’m not leaving her side, what if she needs me.” Rick swallowed a lump in his throat. “What if something bad happens?” Rick spews out quickly. Tears are threatening to fall now and his grip on Beth’s hand has tighented. 

Pat scooted closer to rub Rick’s back in a hopefully soothing manner. “You don’t have to leave her side. I can stand my ground against your uncle. He’s been drinking too much for him to be a problem. Anyways, Beth’s going to be fine, medicine is advanced than it was ten years ago. And, don’t think that way Rick. Self-hatred will get you nowhere. After this we can analyze the fight and see what went wrong and what we can improve up and what we did right. I only need you to leave her side for a moment. You shouldn’t stay in that sweaty costume any longer than necessary.”

“Pat-”

“Now Rick, and don’t punch Tigris in the face quite yet. As is she’s quiet, I don’t want to deal with another thing right now. Beth and calling you parents, but mainly Beth needs my full attention.”

Rick reluctantly left Beth’s side to do as Pat said. He was surprised, he expected more of a fight from Rick. Then he realized that Rick probably left so he could compose himself and  ‘shower’ by spraying febreeze on himself.  

“The car’s ready for transportation. I called Mike, he’s up and he said he’ll bike over to the hospital but I refused. After dropping off Beth, I’ll pick up Mike. He seems pretty spooked.” Barbra rubbed her hands on Pat’s shoulders. 

Pat rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ll bet. You okay honey?” Pat turned around and ran his arms up and down her to try and soothe her. 

“Yeah, a little spooked, but she’ll be okay? She’ll be okay.” Barbra said in an effort to reassure herself. “I never thought I’d be this stressed as an adult. They’re doing well for themselves though. Very impressive.”

Pat nodded in agreement. “I should start calling all their guardians.”

“We need to do something about Rick’s uncle,” Barbra commented. 

“Yeah, but I want to be careful about it. One wrong move and CPS will send him halfway across the country.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Barbra reassured. The calls went easier than expected. Rick’s uncle didn’t even pick up, and Alex picked up and he seemed fine that his sister was having sleep over. It was the Chapel’s that made him nervous. Her father was on a business trip, but her mom was already at the hospital and she promised to ready a bed for Beth. By the end of the call everyone was ready to go. Pat got into the drivers seat while Courtney, Yolanda, and Rick sat in the back holding Beth to their laps. Barbra made sure it was as safe as possible before climbing into the passenger seat. Pat got them to the hospital in record time. Rick picked Beth up bridal style and carried her into the ER. Mrs. Chapel showed Rick the right way to the emergency room. Barbra kissed her husband on the cheek before going to pick up Mike. 

Yolanda and Courtney walked hand in hand into the hospital. Pat was right behind keeping an eye on them. Sue him, his already frayed nerves were completely broken after watching Beth get injured. “How are you girls holding up?” 

“Beth- She’s like this bright light. She’s kind and she's positive and she always says the right thing you know? It feels wrong like something is deeply wrong in the universe, you know? It- not her. It never should’ve been her.” Yolanda tells him. Her voice sounds more hollow then usual, but her eyes her entire being radiates anger. 

“I get what you mean.” For the thousandth time, Pat wondered if this whole game was worth it. They were kids, amazing kids, but kids nonetheless. At least with the original JSA they were adults. Pat knew they were in too deep, so he just texted Barbra to bring more coats before taking a seat in the waiting room with everyone else. Rick eventually came back, seething somewhat. Pat assumed that he was kicked out the hospital room and just gave him some space. 

Barbra came back with blankets and coats and Mike, who looked dead asleep, was carrying a couple trays of drinks from McDonalds. “Mom and I stopped by McDonald’s for drinks. They’re all labeled.” Pat smiled at Mike calling Barbra mom, it was a small thing, but it made him happy. Mike went to everyone before heading back to his father. There was a seat open between Courtney and Pat so Mike took that one. 

He, with his big puffy coat, curled into Pat’s side. “Everyone’s ok?”

Pat thought hard before answering Mike, “Well, we’re in the hospital, but we’ll be okay.”

It was a cold and long night. Mike dozed off not long after coming here. No one else could sleep. Horrible, awful, what-if’s ran through their mind. After a while, Rick was coaxed out of his brooding by Barbra. She gave him a blanket and a seat to sit on. No one said anything. Maybe they should’ve, but then a nurse entered the wait room and talking was forgotten in favor of listening to the nurse. 

“For Beth Chapel?” Barbra and Rick shot up. Pat couldn’t with Mike and Yolanda and Courtney were half-asleep. 

“How is she?” Rick asked. 

“She’s going to be fine. Any of that weird substance in her system isn’t putting her in danger and the fever should pass by the night. Her mom is with her now, but soon multiple visits will be allowed.” 

A collective exhale was let out around the room. Beth would be fine. Rick smiled. Barbra let out a relieved chuckle and gave Pat a kiss, careful of Mike. Yolanda and Courtney gave a sleepy whoop. They pulled Rick in for an hug that he got trapped in once they fell asleep. Pat felt himself finally relax knowing that they were all safe. He never planned on being a dad, he wouldn’t change his situation for the world. 

[cindyburman]

and every day is like a battle (but every night with us is like a dream)

ao3

Summary: At school, Cindy always has to be in control: of her emotions, of her powers, or her so-called "friends." If she ever let her guard down she'd be stabbed in the back before she could say, "Et tu, Brute?" So it's only outside of the oppressive confines of Blue Valley High and in the presence of her two favorite people (and the only ones she fully trusts) that Cindy allows herself to relax and truly be herself.

Notes: title is from "new romantics" by taylor swift. the only explanation i have for this spur-of-the-moment fic is that one tumblr post that says something like "fandom seeks to create what the original source material is missing." and i'm just filling the voids of "gay characters/relationships" and "the characters all being happy and safe" recently on stargirl. anyways @ geoff johns make them girlfriends or else. go check out my ao3 for more of me believing that pretty much all of the girls on stargirl (and pretty much any other show) are gay with little to no proof!!!

Cindy drives through the meandering streets of Blue Valley faster than is really necessary, but that's not her fault. The driver that her father created usually drops her off at Courtney's (or at a location nearby that Cindy walks to Courtney's from once the driver's out of sight so as not to make him suspicious about how often she goes there), so it's only when he's busy performing other various nefarious tasks that Cindy is allowed to drive herself. These times are so few and far between that Cindy doesn't even know the speed limit here--she thinks that it ends in a 5, though, so she took a wild guess that it was 45 miles per hour and tacked on another 5 for good measure because everyone knows that going 5 over the speed limit is technically allowed.

She's pulled out of her thoughts by the now-familiar sight of the Whitmore-Dugan household. Cindy slows down to turn into their driveway, grateful that it isn't trash day and that she doesn't have to risk a repeat of last time, and parks next to the grass on the left side. Getting out of the car, she locks the doors and tosses the keys into her purse before striding purposefully toward the front door. Cindy's barely finished ringing the doorbell when the door abruptly opens, startling her and (for some reason) Barbara, who was the one to open the door in the first place.

"Hey, Courtney's mom," Cindy recovers smoothly, pasting on her most charming smile.

"Hey, Courtney's friend," Barbara replies bemusedly, stepping aside to let Cindy into the house. "She's upstairs in her room."

With that, Cindy starts up the stairs, her anticipation already building. At school, Cindy always has to be in control: of her emotions, of her powers, or her so-called "friends." If she ever let her guard down she'd be stabbed in the back before she could say, "Et tu, Brute?"

So it's only outside of the oppressive confines of Blue Valley High and in the presence of her two favorite people (and the only ones she fully trusts) that Cindy allows herself to relax and truly be herself. Speaking of...

Cindy opens the door to Courtney's room and steps inside, immediately spotting Courtney sitting against the headrest of her bed and seemingly studying.

"Hi, babe," Courtney says cheerfully without looking up from her textbook. Cindy frowns at the lack of attention--and for some boring school book?

"How did you know that it was me?" Cindy prompts, attempting to get Courtney to look at her. "Or do you just greet your family members like that too?" Courtney's mouth twitches into a smile, and she finally looks at Cindy.

"My family members knock before coming in," she remarks dryly, watching Cindy set her purse down on Courtney's desk and then turn back towards her. Looking directly at Courtney, Cindy slowly stalks towards her, putting far more sway in her hips than usually would.

Courtney falls for the bait hook, line, and sinker, and Cindy can't help her victorious smirk as her girlfriend looks at her with renewed interest. Unfortunately for her, though, Courtney has one more card to play before she puts aside this facade of disinterest.

"So." Courtney presses her lips together in an attempt to contain her smile, but it doesn't matter--her mirth shines from her eyes, as bright as the sun. "Ready to start studying?" Cindy rolls her eyes but can't help herself from smiling, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, how about we start with chemistry?" she suggests playfully. Courtney snorts at the double meaning before catching herself and scrambling to revert to her faux-seriousness. She pretends to consider Cindy's words for a moment before nodding decisively, shoving her book off to the side.

"Excellent." Cindy grins and scoots further onto the bed, throwing one of her legs across Courtney's hips and settling into her lap. Courtney's hands rest on Cindy's waist almost automatically and Cindy settles her arms in their customary place on Courtney's shoulders, her fingers tangling in Courtney's hair and scratching at her scalp. Ever the tease, Cindy leans down as slowly as she can manage, drawing this moment out as revenge for Courtney's (successful) attempts to rile her up. It lasts for a solid few seconds before Courtney grows impatient and, in a somewhat surprising (because Courtney's deceptively small and lean frame often leads Cindy to forget how powerful she really is) but definitely exhilarating show of strength, flips them over so that Cindy is lying on her back, her legs still bracketing Courtney's hips, and Courtney is leaning over her with a shit-eating grin, one hand holding herself up while the other loosely pins Cindy's wrists against the pillows.

"Did I forget to mention that I'm really more of a hands-on learner?" Courtney murmurs, so obviously pleased with herself for continuing the joke. Cindy wants nothing more than to lunge forward and wipe that self-satisfied smirk off her mouth (preferably with her own mouth), but this time it's Courtney who leans down and connects their lips.

Cindy's eyes flutter closed as she allows herself to melt into the kiss, to feel the all-consuming fire that's been licking at her insides since Courtney showed up in Blue Valley. Being with Courtney is like an roller coaster she never wants to end, and kissing Courtney makes her feel like she can do anything. There's only one other person she's ever felt anything like this around, and she's--

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to this sight." Yolanda's voice breaks through their reverie, and Cindy and Courtney stop kissing and look up to see their other girlfriend, who's just entered the bedroom and is now looking on them both with affection.

"Yolanda! C'mere," Courtney encourages her, patting the bed emphatically. Cindy reaches out for Yolanda as well, giving her the best "come hither" look she can muster, although it's not really necessary--unlike the two of them, Yolanda's less about playing the world's most homoerotic game of Chicken and more about simply being honest and open about her feelings and wants, which is honestly the only reason the three of them finally got together in the first place (although to be fair, it did take Yolanda quite a while to figure out her feelings)--and Yolanda easily acquiesces. She sits down next to them, her knees tucked under her and her hand seeking out Cindy's own to intertwine their fingers.

Wordlessly, Courtney and Yolanda lean toward each other and share a sweet, lingering kiss. Cindy watches them through hooded eyes, worrying her lower lip with her teeth as the bubbling heat in the pit of her stomach rises to a boil once more. She instinctively squeezes her legs together, forgetting that Courtney's still between them.

"Needy," Courtney chides, running her hand up Cindy's thigh as she breaks away from Yolanda, but there's no venom to it. And as both Courtney and Yolanda look at her, nothing but pure, unadulterated fondness in their eyes, Cindy feels more loved than she's ever felt with anyone else and can't help but think, How did I get so lucky?

"I mean, can you blame me? I do have the hottest girlfriends in the world," she replies earnestly. Yolanda snorts.

"Flatterer," she says warmly, flopping down next to her and beginning to pepper kisses all over Cindy's face except her lips.

"I don't know if that's completely true, though," Courtney says with a wide smile, her fingers tracing small, repetitive circles on the skin of her stomach where her shirt's ridden up. Judging by the matching grin Cindy can feel Yolanda pressing against her cheek, it's a buildup to another one of their bad jokes, and she prepares herself accordingly.

"There's this really attractive girl at school, right, babe?" Courtney continues, directing the last part of her statement to Yolanda.

"Oh, yeah, I know exactly who you mean, Court," Yolanda says, hamming it up as she momentarily pulls away from Cindy. "I think her name is Sandy or something?" Ugh, so that was where it was going, Cindy thinks, letting out a loud groan and pinching the bridge of her nose. Unfortunately, her audible disapproval doesn't deter the two at all--in fact, it seems like it only serves to spur them on.

"Really? I thought it was Sydney," Courtney says, faking confusion.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's Candy," Yolanda corrects her.

"No way, it's totally Mindy!"

"Close. It's Linda."

"Is it Cindy??" Cindy blurts out exasperatedly. Her girlfriends look at each other and nod with faux-thoughtfulness, muttering yes, that's it, absolutely, and Cindy dramatically covers her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You two are the worst," she grumbles halfheartedly.

"Come on, you have to admit that it was at least a little funny," Courtney wheedles as Yolanda gently tugs her hand away from her eyes.

"If I do, will you promise never to do it again?" Cindy asks, only half kidding. Courtney and Yolanda laugh but shake their heads, and so Cindy shrugs haughtily and attempts to remain aloof. However, she can only withstand the power of both of their beseeching gazes for so long, and she breaks faster than she'd like to admit.

"Fine. I guess it wasn't the worst joke you've ever told," Cindy concedes, allowing her lips to curl into a rueful grin. Courtney pumps her fist and cheers theatrically at this hard-won victory, finally extricating herself from between Cindy's legs in favor of lying next to her instead.

"High praise," Yolanda murmurs teasingly before finally giving in and pressing her lips to Cindy's. Yolanda's tender kisses and hands oh-so-carefully cradling Cindy's jaw, like she's something precious that might break if she's treated too roughly, are the perfect juxtaposition to Courtney practically mauling her on her other side, leaving a ragged trail of kisses and nips across her neck because she knows that Cindy can take it, knows that deep down she wants to. Yolanda makes her feel safe and so, so very loved, and Courtney makes her feel brave and alive. These are the reasons why she fell for both of them in the first place, the reasons why she could never just choose one--and thankfully, she didn't have to.

Cindy's train of thought is derailed when Courtney bites down particularly hard right on her pulse point, causing her to let out an undignified, breathy moan into Yolanda's mouth. Yolanda's grip on her jaw tightens slightly at the sound, the change in pressure so minute that Cindy doesn't even think Yolanda knows she's doing it. But then Yolanda's tongue slips into her mouth, and yeah, she definitely knows she's doing here.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathing hard and flushed. Courtney detaches from Cindy's neck, where she's been trying to suck a bruise into her skin (key word: trying. Her healing factor doesn't make it that easy to leave hickeys). All three of them lay there quietly as they allow heartbeats to return more or less to normal until Cindy sits up and breaks the silence.

"I miss you two," she confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Not now, obviously, but at school. Hanging out with other people just doesn't feel the same." Her girlfriends quickly move to sit up as well, arranging themselves in something resembling a close-knit triangle.

"I'm sorry, babe," Yolanda says simply, squeezing her hand in support.

"Me too. I hate that we can't always be together," Courtney adds, hugging Cindy tightly. Yolanda joins in only seconds later, and although Cindy knows this won't change things, she still somehow feels better--Courtney and Yolanda always manage to do that. Suddenly, Courtney gasps and breaks the embrace, looking... angry?

"Wait, is Henry being a jerk again? Because I can totally go kick his ass if you want," she declares. Cindy and Yolanda share an amused glance--this isn't the first time that Courtney has offered to go beat up their ex-boyfriend on behalf of one or both of them, and they know it won't be the last.

"Not any more than usual," Cindy replies dryly. The JSA and Cindy have had a tenuous alliance with Henry ever since he figured out their identities (but in all fairness, he could literally hear their thoughts), but considering that he's one of only three people who knows that Cindy, Courtney, and Yolanda are dating (the other two being Beth and Rick), it was best for them to focus more on the 'alliance' part rather than the 'tenuous' considering he hadn't done anything truly heinous (yet). They hadn't even wanted to tell him, but mindreaders and secrets don't go very well together, as was evidenced by how he found out--Courtney couldn't stop thinking (very loudly, Henry had noted), Don't think about the fact that you're dating both of his ex-girlfriends whenever she saw him. "He's mostly just pissed because he thinks that either he 'turned us gay' by being a horrible boyfriend or that you 'turned us gay,' specifically, to spite him."

Yolanda scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Why do men always think that it's about them?" Cindy laughs, high-fiving her and nodding.

"Did you somehow gain telepathy too?" Courtney asks, confused. "Because I highly doubt that he would just tell you all of that."

"No, Henry's just still learning how to use his powers," Cindy explains. "So sometimes he accidentally projects his thoughts into my head--and other people's too sometimes, I presume--without realizing it. And this was one of his tamer thoughts."

Courtney shakes her head with a grimace. "I don't even want to know."

"Yeah, gross," Yolanda says, wrinkling her nose up. "I still can't believe I ever dated him."

"Join the club," Cindy sympathizes, nudging her shoulder in solidarity.

"Now that's one organization that I hope I'll never join," Courtney laughs. "Honestly, I'm simultaneously kinda flattered that Henry thinks I could 'turn' both of you and kinda terrified that people still think that's a real thing that happens."

"Straight boys: can't live with them, can... actually really easily live without them," Cindy says thoughtfully. The other two chuckle.

"While we're on the topic of straight boys... where's Rick?" Yolanda wonders aloud.

"Date night with Beth," Courtney supplies promptly. "I think they said something about bowling?"

"Ooh, that sounds like fun," Cindy says, perking up. "Wanna go crash it?"

"Depends, are you any good?" Yolanda teases.

"I'm good at whatever I apply myself too," she says smoothly. There's a long pause, and then...

"You've never gone bowling before, have you?" Courtney asks suspiciously.

"Maybe..." Cindy hedges. Her girlfriends gape at her in horror.

"Well, now we have to go!" Courtney exclaims, acting as if Cindy having never bowled before is a personal affront to everything she stands for. "Come on, Cindy, you can drive us." She gets up and starts grabbing her stuff, and Cindy and Yolanda follow her lead.

"Mom! We're leaving to go meet Beth and Rick!" Courtney yells as they head downstairs.

A muffled "Okay, stay safe!" comes from somewhere in the house, and Courtney opens the front door and holds it for Cindy and Yolanda with a dramatic half-bow.

"Why, thank you," Cindy says as she bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"What a gentlewoman," Yolanda adds, giggling.

"Shotgun!" Courtney calls out once they're all outside, jogging a little to catch up.

"And just like that... chivalry is dead," Yolanda deadpans, clasping her hands to her chest and staring off wistfully into the distance. "Where, oh where, did you go?"

"Oh, shut up," Courtney says, punching her lightly in the shoulder with a bright smile. "Do you really want shotgun or did you just want to make that joke? Because if you're so attached to it you can have it."

"No, I just wanted to make that joke." Yolanda grins and plants a kiss on her cheek, leaning into her side as Cindy rifles through her purse for her keys.

"Here we go!" Cindy declares when she finds them and unlocks the car.

"So, what's the speed limit again?" she asks, only half joking, as her and Yolanda get into the car and Courtney goes around the the passenger side.

"You're kidding, right?" Yolanda says, sounding vaguely alarmed. "It's 25."

"Yeah, I was totally kidding," Cindy reassures her with a nervous laugh, because there's no way she's telling her that she was doing twice that on the drive here. Courtney gets in and begins fiddling with the radio, nodding in approval when she finds a station she likes as one of the presets.

"Okay, babe, since you've never bowled before, we're going to have to go over all of the basics," Courtney instructs. "Some of it we can talk about on the way, but most of the teaching has to happen at the bowling alley, like proper stance and how much run-up distance you need."

"Yes, I think you'll need a lot of help with stance in particular," Yolanda confirms from the backseat as Cindy pulls out of the driveway.

"I think you two just want an excuse to stand really close behind me and maneuver me around," Cindy teases them, smirking.

"Well, stance is actually really important for knocking over the maximum amount of pins and making sure not to injure yourself," Yolanda explains, and the thing is that Cindy actually believes her--it's a very Yolanda thing to do, to care so much about other people and their well-being (Cindy took advantage of that many times before. Yolanda has since forgiven her, but Cindy still doesn't know if she'll ever be able to forgive herself for all of the torture she put Yolanda through). Then, her voice turns mischievous and although Cindy can't see her, she knows that she's smiling as she continues, "That's just a fun bonus."

"And someone has to," Courtney reasons. "Wouldn't you rather it be us than Beth or Rick?"

"True. Beth and Rick are nice, but I'm not going to put out on my first date with them," Cindy says, chuckling, and then, sultrily, "You two can adjust my stance all you want, though." Both of her girlfriends laugh, but Yolanda leans forward to lightly slap Cindy's arm semi-reproachfully--she still hasn't quite overcome all of her Catholic upbringing.

"Okay, but I'm going to hold you to that," Courtney warns her with a grin. "Just a heads-up, bowling can get pretty, well... intense with us, but really, what doesn't? The competitiveness is strong in the JSA."

"Yeah, but bowling isn't all about competition, it's also just plain fun," Yolanda says. "Knocking down the pins is actually really therapeutic, you'll love it. Bowling is one of my favorite sports because I get to throw stuff at other stuff in the same way that boxing is one of my favorite sports because I get to hit stuff."

After that, Courtney and Yolanda begin to debate exactly how far bent over you should be by the end of your throw for maximum pin-hitting potential, and Cindy half-listens to their good-natured bickering, a big smile on her face as she drives through the streets of Blue Valley (this time at the actual speed limit).

I love them, she thinks, not for the first time. Even Cindy isn't brave enough to say it aloud--none of them have yet--but she knows deep down that it's absolutely true. Of course she's managed to fall in love with two of her father's worst enemies: Stargirl and Wildcat, impulsivity and stability, her better wholes (because really, neither of them are half a person).

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Notes: this was meant to be like 2k words but ig my creative juices were just flowing!!! anyways i love these three w my entire heart and would both kill and die for them, so chances are i will be writing more for them, either by making this part of like a series of oneshots or maybe i'll be making a multichapter fic sometime soon idk 👀 once again, check out my ao3 for more like this!! please leave ur questions/comments/concerns below, i thrive off of others' validation :') and of course, here is the blm carrd, please do what you can to support, whether it's protesting, donating, or even just signing petitions!!

[isaacmcadoo]

I Know I Haven’t Been Perfect, But Give It Some Time (Not A Single Day Goes By Where You Don’t Cross My Mind)

A/N: I’ve been forgetting to post a lot of my recent fics here. But I genuinely haven’t been this pleased with one of my fics ever. This is brought to you thanks to @canary-warrior, who suggested I make a Cam/Yolanda friendship angst fic, and so this was born! Please ignore any mistakes, I’m not a great writer.

Yolanda Montez walked down the hallway arm in arm with her boyfriend, Henry King. She smiled kindly at everyone as she passed them, handing buttons to every one they walked passed. They finally stopped in front to talk to one of Henry’s football friends. 

Yolanda’s smile dimmed slightly, as her boyfriend removed his arm as he began discussing their weekend plans. She let her eyes wander to the other side of the hallway, where she caught sight of Cameron Mahkent. Her wide smile returned and she gently tapped Henry’s shoulder to get his attention.

“I’ll be right back.” He nodded, kissing her quickly on the cheek as she made her way to the other side of the hall.

“Hey.” She let out a giggle as the brunette jumped, turning to look at her.

“You’re going to vote for me, right, lab partner?” She asked as she handed him one of her buttons. Cameron let out a small chuckle, reaching for it.

“Of course, lab partner,” He attached the pin to his shirt, beaming at her. 

———

The first painting appeared in her locker the day after it happened. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a small square paper with a sunflower painted on it. She flipped it over to see if the artist had signed their work, they hadn’t.

Yolanda stared at the flower, slowly dragging her hand down it. She smiled. There was only one person she knew that could, or would, do something like this for her. Her eyes flickered to the opposite end of the hallway, where Cameron was in the middle of a very intense conversation with Joey Zarrick. At that moment, however, he looked up, and the pair made eye contact.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, clutching the painting to her heart. Cameron smiled widely, nodding. Yolanda slowly began the walk to her first class, the shame and hurt churning in her chest lessening slightly.

———

“Hey, Yolanda.” Cameron sat down next to the girl in chemistry. Yolanda looked up at him, confused.

“You know you don’t have to be my lab partner again this year? I can be the odd person out this year.” Cameron brushed her off.

“There is no way in hell. I NEED you as my lab partner, I will fail without you.”

Yolanda almost burst into tears. No one besides her brother had been so nice to her in the two and a half months since the incident.

“Oh, okay then,” Yolanda wiped her eyes quickly, praying Cameron hadn’t seen the tears.

“How was your summer?” He asked, turning to prop his head up on his fist and looking in her eyes. Yolanda looked as if she’d just sucked a whole bucket of lemons and shook her head.

“I haven’t been allowed to leave my room since it happened...” She fiddled with the end of her braid, not wanting to look him in the eye. What if he thought she was so lame for that?

“I’m sorry, your parents don’t let you leave your room?”

“Yeah, I’m allowed to go to school, and the dinner table, that’s it.”

“That’s fucked up.” Yolanda looked up at the young boy in shock.

“What did you just say?”

“I said that’s fucked up, you didn’t do anything wrong, why are you being punished?” When he looked her in the eye, she had to look away.  She’d let enough people see her cry to last a lifetime. She rubbed her eyes, blinking back the tears.

“Try telling that to my parents.”

“They actually think you did something wrong?” Yolanda risked a glance at his face, he looked horrified. The thought that Cameron was upset over the way her parents were treating her made the awful feeling she’d been carrying around for months disappear, if only for a moment.

“I guess?” Yolanda shrugged.

“Mr. Mahkent, Ms. Montez,” Mr. Jones stuck his head between the pair, making Yolanda jump, “Socialize on your own time.” He scolded, looking back and forth between them, shooting daggers with his glare. Yolanda sucked her lips in as she nodded. She let out a long exhale, glancing over her shoulder at him as he walked away.

She made eye contact with Cameron after a moment, and the two began giggling.

———

On Yolanda’s 16th birthday, she opened her locker and this time, it wasn’t just a painting that fell out. She picked up the blue envelope, a small smile on her face. Her family hadn’t said anything to her that morning when she left for school. But Cameron has remembered. Cameron always remembered her.

She glanced to her left and right before pulling her nail across the top of the envelope, cutting it open. She pulled the card out reverently, tracing her fingers down the painting on the front. It was her. She marveled at the detail, he had really taken the time to get every detail just right.

For the first time in a very long time, Yolanda didn’t mind if someone saw her smile. This was the most loved she’d felt in a long time.

Finally, she gently folded the card open, scanning the neat cursive letters.

Yolanda,

I know we aren’t super close, but it would’ve felt wrong not to at least get you a card. I hope you don’t think the painting is creepy. I mean, I have sat next to you in science everyday since 7th grade, so I feel like it’s not completely weird... Anyway, I know these past few months have been hard for you, but I hope the paintings have helped, even just for a minute. 

Anyway, I’m really happy we’re friends. 

Happy 16th Birthday,

Cameron Mahkent

Yolanda felt the tears roll down her cheeks, but she didn’t mind. A good happy cry was exactly what she needed right now, screw the people that would make fun of her.

———

Yolanda was used to the teasing, she really was. But whenever the new girl tried to step in, it just made it so much worse. Didn’t she get that? So when the blonde tried to say something about the big white letters across her locker, Yolanda just got frustrated. Did she not understand that by speaking up she was only making things harder for the brunette? Speaking up only fueled her classmates rage. Yolanda sighed as she walked to chemistry. Cameron could make this all better. He always did.

But, when the bell finally rang, Cameron was nowhere in sight. What had happened, where was he? 

Yolanda started panicking. Cameron was the person that helped make her feel normal, and if he wasn’t here, she didn’t think she could handle today. Not after that message on her locker. She put her head in her arms and tried not to let anyone see her cry.

After class, Yolanda was out of her seat in a flash. She jogged down the hall to her locker, to put her books away before lunch when she saw the words had been painted over. What had once been an ugly reminder of what she had done, was now a beautiful floral pattern, that Yolanda knew Cameron had spent a very long time on. She smiled to herself, running her fingers across the paint before slowly turning the lock. She swung the door open, and today, two paintings fell out. One of the tree on the hill from their elementary school, and the other was an artistic representation of the mess they had made in chemistry last week. Yolanda giggled, clutching the two paintings to her heart. 

Cameron was so sweet. He was going to kill her with his kindness.

———

The whole school felt quiet the day of Joey Zarrick’s memorial. And Yolanda felt guilty. She loved the silence. It meant not a single person was making fun of her. Not one. And when she remembered why no one was paying any attention to her, she felt a wave of shame overtake her. 

“Hey…” Cameron sat down next to Yolanda. She reached her hand up onto the table, squeezing his forearm. 

“I’m so sorry.” Cameron gave her a sad smile. 

“Thank you.”

———

Courtney Whitmore may have given Yolanda the means to take her life back when she asked her to be Wildcat, but Cameron’s kindness was the reason she was able to stand tall. She had needed both of them to be able to begin to heal. So when Courtney had texted her that Cameron had asked her to Homecoming, Yolanda let out a squeal of excitement. 

They were going to make the cutest couple. She sank back onto her bed, opening a text for Cameron.

Cam, it’s Yolanda

You finally got your phone back!

I did!

Courtney told me you asked her to homecoming?

Yeah

She’s really nice

I kind of like her

Yolanda made a face at her phone. Of course he did. This boy was so sweet. He deserved someone as sweet as Courtney.

Yeah, she is pretty awesome.

Yolanda let her phone fall to her side as she stared up at the ceiling. She smiled. Cameron and Courtney. Her two favorite people were going to make each other so happy. She felt her phone buzzing in her hand. Was Cameron calling her? She brought the phone up to check the caller ID. 

Pat Dugan flashed across the screen. 

Yolanda shot up, sliding her finger across the phone to answer the call.

“What’s wrong?”

———

After Courtney got hurt, Yolanda felt a rift begin to form between her and Cameron. The fight against the ISA had gotten so serious. Henry joined them, and almost died. But then he didn’t. Then Courtney’s real father, Sam Curtis had shown up and even though Yolanda had been hurt by her actions, she had to be there for her friend. 

When the ISA tried to kill Courtney and her family, they hid away in a cabin for a few hours. And then the fight had begun. So, by the time Yolanda could hang out with Cameron, she couldn’t bring herself to. After all, she had watched his father die and felt relief. How could she ever look at Cameron the same again?

The day Cameron finally returned to school after his father’s death, he dropped into the seat next to Yolanda, eyes red and puffy. He turned to her.

“Could you please come to the funeral?” Yolanda felt her heart beat increase. How could she tell him ‘No, I can’t’, when he looked like that? And he was asking so politely. Yolanda almost said yes. But then she remembered.

“Umm…” Yolanda nervously let her eyes flicker back and forth between her lab partner and the whiteboard. Somehow hoping that it would provide a way out. When it became clear she would have to get herself out of this mess she sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

“I’ll have to ask my parents. You know how they are…” Cameron nodded his head slowly, turning his body to face the front of the classroom. Yolanda’s heart broke as he took detailed notes. No doodling in the corner. No leaning over to ask her what he had missed. Cameron deserved better than this.

———

When Yolanda caught sight of her friend across the room, she stopped dead in her tracks to stare. Which had been a terrible idea. It gave Sportsmaster the perfect opportunity to land a perfect shot to the middle of her back. She let out a painful cry, jumping forward. She spun to face her opponent. Snarling, she leapt for the older man, who easily sidestepped, dodging her claws. She growled in frustration, watching over her shoulder as Courtney pounced on him.

Yolanda let her eyes make their way back to Cameron. She felt her heart break as her eyes reached him just in time to see him send a gust of freezing wind in Rick’s direction, shoving him to the ground. She gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what she was about to do. 

Yolanda turned to the young boy and took a running start before leaping towards him. Her claws racked across his chest, tearing the dark material of his shirt and leaving deep gashes across his icy chest.

“What are you doing, Cameron?” She seethed. He let out an audible gasp, eyes going wide at the sound of her voice.

“Yolanda?” She scrunched her nose up in response.

How had she been stupid enough to believe Cameron was a good guy? He had been the rule this whole time, not the exception. She was starting to believe there were no exceptions. At that thought tears pricked the edges of her eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.” She snarled, baring her teeth, which made Cameron shrink back.

“I-I had no idea, Yolanda, I swear!” She almost believed him. Almost. But her hurt and anger prevented it.

“Sure you didn’t. I can’t believe I ever thought we were friends. She caught sight of a look of shock and hurt cross his face at her words, so she took the opportunity to flip over the boy, grabbing the collar of his jacket as she went, flinging him into the wall. He slid to the floor, motionless.

Yolanda turned, reaching out to pull Rick up.

“Are you okay?” She asked as she threw her arm around his waist. Rick nodded, wincing in pain.

“I’ll be okay.” Yolanda gave him a skeptical look.

“We should get you out of here.” She motioned for Courtney, who blasted Sportsmaster into the ceiling. The blonde hopped onto her staff before flying over to them. The cosmic staff scooped them up before quickly flying back to the garage.

———

“Yolanda, you don’t think I’m angry too?” Courtney attempted to put a comforting hand on her best friend’s shoulder, but Yolanda’s anger was so great, she just shrugged off the affection.

“You don’t understand,” The brunette spat, “Cameron was the only person who treated me normal. The ONLY one.” Rick looked down, sadly.

“I treated you normal...” Courtney once more reached for her friend.

“You weren’t there for it, Court. Cameron was. Cameron was there, and he didn’t let that stop us from being friends.

“He went out of his way to be kind to me, and now he...” Yolanda bit her lip. This was too much.

“I need to be alone.” 

“Yolanda!” She heard both Rick and Courtney call out to her, but she didn’t let it stop her. 

Yolanda walked home as quickly as she could. Slamming her door closed before falling to her bed. She let out a sob, clutching her pillow. Her hand brushed against something flat and smooth as she did. She pulled away from her pillow, gently bringing the item out. It was a notebook. It was THE notebook. She couldn’t believe she forgot about it. 

Gingerly, she flipped open the cover.

The tears streamed silently down her face as she began scanning each of the paintings. Her fingers lightly grazed over each of them as she turned the pages. When she made it to the card from her birthday she brought her hand back to her chest, making a disgusted face. 

The cool tears of sadness quickly became hot and angry at the sight. She snatched the thick paper tearing her face down the middle. She threw the halves away from herself, taking deep breaths, trying to slow her breathing. She closed her eyes, bringing her sleeve up to wipe away the tears. 

Yolanda looked back down at the notebook. It had made her so happy for so long, now, looking down at it, all she wanted to do was scream. So she did. And she chucked the book as hard as she could against the wall. She watched as most of the tape was ripped from the pages, making the paintings fluttered out. 

The one person who had been there for her, and he wound up joining the ISA. How had she been so stupid? She fell face first onto her bed once more. She screamed into her bedding until she felt her throat go horse. 

Finally she settled in on her knees. The tears had subsided, but now there was a hot spike of anger pushing into her chest. She want to punch Cameron in his stupid face.

“Stupid Cameron, making me think he cared. That he was a nice guy. Ha.” She muttered, stepping down to her floor. She needed to get ready for bed. When she caught sight of her ripped face on the floor, she hesitated. The spike that had been digging into her chest softened for just a moment.

He had to at least have cared a little bit, right?

Wrong. 

The spike was back with renewed force as she turned and walked into her bathroom.

———

When Cameron came to, his chest was wet and warm and his head hurt. He slowly opened his eyes. Ouch. Promptly, he shut them again. 

“Get up, kid.” Cameron heard Larry, but it sounded as though he were speaking through water, garbled and unclear.

“What... What happened?” Cameron slowly began sitting up, reaching to clutch the back of his head. He kept his eyes shut tight. Not willing to open them just yet.

“We got our asses handed to us, is what happened!” Issac fumed, angrily brushing his hand through his hair. Cameron blinked rapidly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light. He looked up at the pair standing over him. Sportsmaster’s right eye was swollen shut and he was riddled with cuts and bruises. Issac didn’t look much better. His lip was split and swollen where Hourman had punched him.

Wait, if Courtney was Stargirl, and Yolanda was Wildcat, did this mean Rick Tyler was Hourman? Cameron’s head spun at the realization, he squeezed his eyes shut once more, hoping that would stop the motion. He brought a hand up to hold his chest. At the feel of rough cloth he glanced down. So that’s why his chest was wet. The four slices Yolanda had cut into his chest were now wrapped in bandages, that was oozing blood. He let out a silent prayer of thanks that his teammates had thought to dress his wounds.

“What happened?” Issac crosses his arms across his chest angrily, “I saw you freeze up when Wildcat came at you.” Cameron attempted to stammer out an answer. 

What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t tell them about Yolanda. He couldn’t. She might not think that they were friends after finding out he was a part of the ISA, but Yolanda had been his only real friend. He had to keep her safe.

“They just caught me off guard. I thought Larry was getting Wildcat.” Cameron hoped that was enough for them. He let his eyes flick back and forth between their unreadable faces.

“I can’t be everywhere at once, kid, you’ve gotta be prepared!” Larry joined Issac in crossing his arms.

“I know, I’m sorry, it was my first real battle with the JSA, it won’t happen again.” 

“It better not.” Larry and Issac both turned heading toward the exit. Cameron let out a sigh of relief, lying back down. He stared up at the ceiling for a few silent moments.

“What happens now?”

———

Henry was the first to catch sight of Cameron when they stormed the ISA’s new base of operation. When he saw him, the redhead ran straight for him, shoving him up against the wall.

“How dare you!” He spoke through gritted teeth, looking up at the brunette. Cameron returned the look with a sneer.

“What do you mean, Henry?” Cameron’s voice had so much venom, Henry accidentally let him drop to the floor.

“I mean you broke Yolanda’s heart, and you’re going to pay for that.” Henry clenched his fists, preparing to send the boy flying to the ceiling. Hoping to put the powerful villain out of commission. But the other boy once again took him by surprise by laughing. It was a bitter laugh that stunned Henry to his core. What part of this did Cameron find amusing?

“You are one to talk about breaking Yolanda’s heart.” Henry growled. Why did Cameron have to bring that up?

“You destroyed her, I was the only person who would even look at her! I’ve been waiting to be able to do something to you for months because of what you did!” Cameron hit the boy with a handful of ice spikes, making him go flying.

As the ginger hit the opposite wall, Cameron surveyed the room. His eyes finally caught sight of Yolanda’s figure. Trying to slice Cindy in two. Cameron felt his heart stop as he watched Cindy duck behind her, twisting around to stab the girl in the back. Her cry of pain got his heart beating again and he rushed towards them. He sent a gust of frigid air in the direction of the two girls that sent them both flying backwards. 

“Yolanda!” He heard Rick shout, as he slid over to her on his knees. He laid her across his legs, the deep wound Cindy had left facing the ceiling.

“Is she breathing?” Cameron stood over the pair, heart racing as he tried to get a glimpse of her face. Rick brought her up to a sitting position as he pulled her closer.

“Get the hell away.”

Cameron took a few steps back. Terrified of the look on Rick’s face. 

Cameron let his eyes fall down to his friend’s back, red blood oozing from the deep gash. What had he done? This was his fault. He shouldn’t have continued to fight. Once he realized that these were his friends he should’ve stopped. 

Cameron took a step back as Rick flipped the girl over, gingerly lifting her in his arms. He rushed toward the exit.

“Call a hospital!” Rick shouts at Beth as he passes by. She nodded, speaking to that invisible voice she had been the entire fight. 

Cameron watched as Courtney managed to bash Tigress in the back of the head with her staff. She then grabbed Henry’s limp body lying on the floor, struggling to get him over her shoulder. Finally, she sat on the staff and it flew away, Beth grabbing it as it flew past her. 

Cameron was left standing there, unsure of what to do. 

“Cameron!” Cindy snarled, kicking herself up and brushing herself off, “What the hell was that?” Cameron turned to face her, then he turned to look at Tigress, Issac and Sportsmaster. He couldn’t do this anymore. What WAS he even doing? 

Then it hit him. He was doing this for his dad. Because he thought that’s what he would’ve wanted him to do. But Cameron didn’t want to. Cameron wanted to paint and go to school. And hang out with Yolanda. 

Yolanda.

“I’m done,” He glared between the two older ISA members, daring them to stop him.

“You can’t just leave!” Issac shouted.

“I can, and I am, do you really want to try to stop me?” Cameron began to re-freeze himself, a cold look passing over his eyes. Issac took a step back.

“That’s what I thought,” Cameron began to thaw once more. 

He tried to keep up an air of confidence as he walked out. But deep down, he was terrified Sportsmaster or Tigress would kill him. It wasn’t until he opened his front door he felt at ease.

———

Six years later...

Cameron was sitting on the quad, sketching out the scene in front of him, when his pencil was knocked out of his hand by a frisbee.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Cameron looked up in confusion. He knew that voice.

“Yolanda?”

“Cameron?” Yolanda stopped short, hand outstretched towards the yellow disc.

“Holy shit, it is you! How have you been?” Yolanda tentatively straightened out, fiddling with her braid.

“Not too bad… You, um…” Yolanda glanced down at his sketch pad. An awkward silence passed over them for a few moments. Finally, she broke it, speaking softly.

 “You never said goodbye.” Cameron’s face fell as he looked down, picking up his pencil.

“I...uh… I didn’t think you’d want to see me…” Cameron gestured up at her, “After all, I helped put you in the hospital.”

“I was going to the hospital before you blasted me anyway,” she brushed it off like it was no big deal. Even though it was. It was a huge deal, didn’t she know that?

“Yolanda…”

“Cameron…” she teased.

“One second.” She turned, throwing the frisbee towards her other friends, “I’ll be back in a minute!” She shouted before plopping onto the grass next to Cameron.

“What you did… Joining the ISA… It hurt. A lot at first.” She pulled at the grass.

“But after you left, I realized, you didn’t do it to hurt me.”

“How do you know that for certain?” Cameron bumped her shoulder, making her laugh.

“Because, I realized I knew you a lot better than I initially thought,” she stated matter of factly, “And I know that you were probably doing it through some sort of loyalty to your father. Who you didn’t owe anything to, by the way.” Cameron brought his eyes up to meet her’s.

“So…” he spoke after a few more moments of silence.

“So… Do you want to get coffee sometime?” Yolanda hugged her knees to her chest, “So we can really catch up?” Cameron offered her a wide grin.

“I would love that.”

[leggigoesabroad]

skipping down sixteenth avenue

We woke up the next morning honestly fuggin AMPED because it was a full day at sea.  We had big plans to get some work done, explore the ship, day drink, revel in it all, etc.  But immediately we all felt so seasick that mid-meeting in Brooke’s room she just said “this isn’t happening. Let’s all go back to bed.” And we snorted lines of Dramamine and napped (essentially.)  We got an invitation that morning for dinner with the captain that night, which just so happened to be the ship’s formal night that we didn’t know existed.  Cue PANIC as I accused them all of trying to haze me by not telling me I needed to bring anything other than athleisure.  The nicest thing I brought with me was a floral jumpsuit so I tried my best to blend in but goddamn it these women were wearing like, sparkly evening gowns, strapless bodycon dresses, etc.   Couldn’t even go shopping anywhere since we were at sea all day.  Brooke says it was Nick’s fault, Nick and I secretly remember it was Brooke’s fault as she was the one who told us that Alaskan cruises don’t have formal nights…. Sigh. I’ve only just now started to get over it.  Combined with feeling like death all day and then having to be on good behavior for the very peculiar captain, things were dire.  The lack of formalwear also of course meant that I felt the need to get ahead of it to everyone I encountered the entire night.  “Just so you know I was told there wasn’t a formal night!!” **manic laughter drawing attention to myself** “I would never think this was appropriate for a formal night or dinner with the captain, we didn’t know! We’re here for work! It was a miscommunication!” **more manic laughter and essentially forcing people to say I look nice** “I dress way better at home, had I known I would have fit right in!! You can imagine.  I compensated by getting rip-roaring drunk and OD’ing on Dramamine which led me to a coma-like state I tried to Adderall-away the rest of the cruise.  Hate me cuz u ain’t me.  

The captain was ssssssooo strange – pleasant, but just on a different level of awareness than most normal people.  Lived in his own little captain world.  Old and British and told stories that made no sense and weren’t really relevant. Overly polite but also we felt like he didn’t want to be there.  By the way, I saw captain multiple times a day and at EVERY meal.  I swear he’s just a figurehead who never drives the boat himself. We did a bridge tour later in the week and he made a point to roll on through and look like he was “captain-ing” at one point when we all know he just chills and makes his officers do it. Towards the end of the trip we were talking to him one day and asked how his day was, and he said he had to get up at 4 am to dock and was exhausted and slept all day afterwards.  First of all, 4 am isn’t that much earlier than a normal early wake-up time.  Second of all, docking start to finish only takes like 45 minutes MAX.  Third of all, it’s your job!!!!!!!

We finally pulled into our first port in Ketchikan on Thursday morning.  The boys each had a fun shore excursion to do (bear sanctuary, ziplining) but Brooke, Yolanda and I had a day of running from vendor to vendor to spend about 15 minutes each just learning what they offered and asking questions.  Yolanda used to travel in Alaska with Seabourn back in 2013, so she greeted every tour operator in every town as if they were her long-lost brother or sister and reunited after being away at war for six years. You’ll hear more about it as these blogs go on but lord she is the most dramatic person I have ever met and also not self-aware whatsoever but it’s fucking hysterical.  Today when we said goodbye I said, “honestly, Yolanda, I can’t remember a time before I knew you.” And that’s about how I can sum up our relationship.  

The bopping around was not as fun because we didn’t actually participate in any of the activities, and it was pouring rain.  But all things considered, not as bad as I expected it would be.  We met two super-hot fishermen (each of whom had a baby with their wives in the last week smh where do I get one) and heard all about their different excursions.  They sounded dope but there was freshly caught fish all around us on the docks and their eyes stared at me during the whole spiel and I couldn’t focus.  Why are fish eyes SO CREEPY? After a few more stops around town, our local tour operator Kari drove us to the end of the island to George Inlet Lodge and met one of the owner/operators, CANDI, who gave me a real “mom in Justified /Aunt Lydia in Handmaid’s Tale / whatever her real name is who just won an Emmy” vibe, except less cold blooded murder-y. They showed us their boats and excursions and then fed us an authentic meal just like the members would get, which included Dungeness crab legs.  I told myself before the trip started that I’d HAVE to try and eat more seafood because a) it’s fresh AF in Alaska so this is the place b) my excuse of “but it’s too expensive at restaurants” can’t apply here #freeunlimitedfood and c) I should try to immerse myself in the culture. If Kitty ever reads this she’ll die, also Kitty you should never go to Alaska.  We’re going to keep a running tab on all the seafood, I tried, okay?!  First: the “dungie” crabs.  Learned how to crack them open and everything.  They were relatively tasty, but I still don’t get why people lose their shit over crab legs, especially because it’s soooooo much work for so little payout.  I’m more of a low investment, high reward type.

After the lodge we drove to the opposite end of the island and got on a boat to drive out to Hump Island (lol) Oyster Farm, where a 20-year-old kid named Sean showed us around his dad’s operation.  He was the epitome of what I imagine an Alaskan braaaaaaaah to be and he was cracking me up. All self-deprecating humor about how no 20-year-old should know as much about oysters as him and all he wants to do is chill with his friends in the summer, not tumble oysters 12 hours a day. There were tons of pots all around the little floating island and he explained it takes an oyster about 3 years to grow to maturity and be ready to be eaten/sold, so I asked him if the pots were organized by relative age so you know which ones are new and which need more time, etc.  He said, “honestly we’re just oyster farmers we’re not the brightest most organized guys in the world but that would make sense, wouldn’t it” but all with a sweet douchey little smile only a college kid could get away with.  The thing that struck me most was just how different “summer jobs” in Alaska are for kids than in say, DC.  They don’t work at fast food restaurants or for their dad’s law firm or at daycare blah blah blah, they work on boats or on oyster farms or fishing or logging or giving tours to cruise passengers.  Builds character! And calluses!  They fed us fresh oysters after that which I really didn’t want because I had an oyster one time and I thought it was gross, but again, had to.  And it tasted better than I remember probably because I was literally on the farm where it was grown, kinda like how beer tastes better at a brewery because it never has to travel. 

Back on the ship that night, we ate at what is literally called The Restaurant.  The ship only has a few dining options – The Restaurant, which is pretty shmancy and requires a reservation (but not for us VIPs of course who had the same table reserved for us every night), the Colonnade (buffet-style, ate all of our breakfasts and lunches there) and the Grill, which is a VERY SHMANCY Thomas Keller restaurant that has cut-throat competition for reservations and apparently our members lose their minds over.  We ate there a few nights later and I accidentally got hammered on my new favorite drink, Old Cubans, and had to be essentially rolled out of there in front of the Super Hot Waiter I’m in Love With, Thomas from Belgium. Literally just conjured his face in my mind when typing this and felt an internal swoon.  I miss him so much.  ANYWAY we ate at the Restaurant each night, which had fixed menu options on the right hand side and a rotating left menu.  I tried to be ~adventurous but mostly ate a lot of steak.  Had a black truffle risotto one night and literally loved it so much asked for a second portion.  Going to the lake this weekend and stuffing myself in a bikini is going to be like, a three-person job. We had the same two servers each night – Anastasiia, a 25-year-old Russian girl who love/hated us and today tried to do a bike excursion after never having ridden a bike before and eventually gave up because she crashed too much (I said, “Anastasiia! You can’t just try and ride a bike and hope it goes well, you need someone to guide/teach you until you’re comfortable!” Smh) and Simba, a South African angel who had a crush on me and calmly put up with all of my Lion King jokes.  Listen, other than Super Hot Waiter Thomas, they all had a crush on me.  Maybe they found my complete lack of adherence to their dress code sexy in a “fuck the rules” kind of way?? (How is one supposed to dress for “elegant casual” nightly anyway…) Maybe it was how I insisted night over night that I was “one of them” and not a client because I was here for a site visit and begged them to let me hang out with them?  (The assistant Maitre’D Marius tried to pull so many strings to allow us to be invited to crew Bingo night but alas, we were rejected.) Or maybe it was because I was one of the only people on the ship under the age of 60 and I shamelessly chatted and flirted with everyone I saw, at every meal… It’s hard to say. Simba even publicly sang me a love song at the last night at dinner.  

Slept that night and woke up to the most magical, mystical, ethereal scenery of the Misty Fjords surrounding us.  I’ll post a picture so you can truly understand how magical these were.  Pouring rain but gorgeous and foggy and tranquil. TO BE CONTINUED!

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Next entry for @badthingshappenbingo !

Reminder that I am still accepting prompts for this! Check out my initial post for the guidelines. Also note the current bingo card on this post–the things I mark with crossbones are completed prompts, and ones with a single bone are ones that have been requested, but not written yet.

(Fics are also posted to AO3 and FFN, but please just use the links in my blog desc to get to those ‘cuz I’m too tired to make links for them.)

Aaand here’s our next prompt, submitted by BookwormGal (who does not have a Tumblr). Beware, this one gets a bit... brutal.

Prompt: Setting a Broken Bone Characters: Héctor, Chicharrón

A metallic groan filled the air, waking Héctor up from his daze. He wasn’t sure what time it was, or even what day it was, but he was very quickly aware of the overwhelming pain in his leg. In the dim light of the holding cell, he could see the scotch tape barely clinging to the two broken portions of his left tibia, the larger bone in his lower leg—the tape had lost most of its adhesiveness a day or so ago, and he was frankly amazed it had lasted this long. With a tired moan, he turned in his cot, trying to shift the broken leg to a more comfortable position, only to belatedly realize why that was a bad idea. The two broken ends scraped against each other, and his voice pitched up into a shriek that quickly tapered off.

He’d done quite enough screaming over the past few… days, or however long it had been since Dia de Muertos.

Not long enough, given he wouldn’t be able to try again until next year. Ay.

Past the heavy cell door, he could hear hushed voices, followed by a faint clinking. It was too hard to think past the pain, so he thought nothing of it until the door creaked open.

Lifting himself up on his elbow, he blinked at the two guards who stared down at him. They were looking from his face and back to his injured leg, the older one of them frowning and the younger one wincing. The first leaned over to his partner, trying to whisper to her, but Héctor caught what he was saying anyway: “You see what I mean?”

“Hola,” Héctor said, forcing a tired smile. “Can I help you, señor y señora?”

“Uh… no,” the younger guard said, glancing away briefly. “We’re just here to tell you that you’re free to go.”

“…Go? Right now?” He reached up to scratch his dirty wig, eyes narrowing as he tried to think past the fog of pain. Had it really been… a month? Was that how long he’d been here? That was how long he was supposed to be here, he was pretty sure. Or maybe the corrections officer had been exaggerating?

“We’re letting you out early, Rivera,” the older guard said, pulling his hands behind his back. “Under normal circumstances you’d carry out the full sentence, but…”

“You need a doctor,” the younger guard blurted out. “Seriously. We can’t keep you here in this state.”

Oh. A doctor, huh? Aside from the fact that he wasn’t particularly keen on a man he didn’t know rearranging his bones…

He lay back down in his cot, snatching his hat from the floor and setting it over his face, smiling sadly. “Well, it’s a nice thought,” he said, managing a laugh, “but that sort of thing costs money that I don’t have.”

“Regardless, she’s right. We really can’t keep you here like this, and frankly, we don’t want to.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He resisted the urge to wiggle the foot on his bad leg in demonstration. Of course, he could guess what they were talking about—he wasn’t exactly deaf to the pained sounds he was making. Or maybe they could just feel sorry for him, but he doubted it.

“Basta.” He heard the guard’s bones clatter in what was probably an exasperated gesture. “You’re free to go, Rivera. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Sí,” Héctor replied, with no small amount of bitterness. “Just give me a moment to hop on up.” In truth, he wasn’t exactly upset about being let out early, but… if they were actually concerned about his well-being, they might have done something to help him with his leg.

At least they hadn’t made him deal with those awful cuffs—the ones that had some sort of magic in them that locked one’s bones together. He usually had to deal with those things to keep him from pulling himself apart to slip through the bars, but this time they hadn’t bothered—not like he could get anywhere with a snapped tibia.

Biting his lip, he re-adjusted his hat and carefully eased himself up into a sitting position, staring down at the two halves of his left tibia. Hm, this would be a challenge. He reached down to peel off the remainder of the tape first, which should have been an easy task. Most of it wasn’t sticky anymore to begin with, having quickly gotten covered in dust and ash, but as he pulled it away a small part caught against the jagged crack in the bone, and he jumped in his seat with a startled yelp.

“D-do you need help, Señor Rivera?” the younger guard stammered, and he gazed up at them.

The female guard was new—mid-to-late twenties, it looked like, possibly even recently-dead, given he hadn’t seen her before. Her hair was in a long, dark braid that went past her waist, and she didn’t wear lipstick. She stood oddly tall compared to the other guard—Juan, he recalled the name suddenly. Juan was big and stocky (or as stocky as a skeleton could be), but not much in the height department, whereas this girl looked like she might be barely shorter than Héctor. She kept looking from her partner and back to him, and Héctor couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable with the situation in general, or just uncomfortable with him.

Probably the latter. No one felt comfortable around the dusty old souls from the shanties.

“I’ll manage,” he grumbled finally, tossing the wad of tape away and looking down at his leg again. He wasn’t going to put weight on his tibia—he wasn’t sure if he could wreck his bones permanently, and he didn’t want to find out. So… he’d have to be a little more creative. At first he almost tried to grab for half of his tibia, but it wasn’t set right, and trying to pull it off that way would be disastrous. Instead he plucked off his kneecap, ignoring the sounds of disgust from the guards, grabbed the bottom half of his broken tibia with one hand, and with his other hand carefully eased his already-loose fibula off of his leg. The bottom half of the tibia, no longer connected to anything, came loose, and Héctor set it to his other side, wincing when he placed it on the bed. Next came the upper half, which he gently tugged away and set next to its mate, before reassembling the rest of his leg.

With his femur and kneecap connected to the fibula, which was connected to his foot, that should give him… some support, right?

“Wh… what is he doing,” the younger guard whispered, not quite quiet enough for Héctor to miss it.

“What I can,” Héctor replied simply, pressing his hands into either side of his cot as he eased himself to his feet. He kept most of his weight on his good leg and braced one hand against the wall. Even then, his bad leg was already wobbling. The fibula was definitely not made to bear weight by itself, but maybe it would last him until he got to Shantytown. He pulled his hand away from the wall, and, when he didn’t immediately fall, forced a smile. “See? You can learn to make due when—”

Pop.

Héctor flailed as he tried to lean toward the wall again a second too late, and quickly loosened his joints as his body tipped over on its left side. A few bones were knocked out of place at the impact, but were otherwise unharmed, and he grumbled as he willed himself back together, careful to keep the tibia away. Right, he’d forgotten that fibula didn’t like to stay in place anymore.

“Enough of this,” Juan growled, grabbing Héctor by the arm and hoisting him up. “Yolanda, you take his other side.”

The female guard—Yolanda, evidently—shot Héctor an apologetic look as she took his other arm, lifting it around her shoulders. Hesitantly she glanced over at the broken tibia sitting on the cot, and reached down to pick up one of the pieces, looking like someone who had to pick up a particularly filthy piece of trash.

Héctor immediately shuddered, clenching his teeth. “Ay, be careful with that—!” he whined, and Yolanda responded by tucking the broken bone under her free arm, and doing the same with the other half, thankfully keeping the broken ends away from each other.

So here he was, being hoisted by two guards out of the holding cell early, with his tibia being carried by one of the guards and rubbing against itself.

It was going to be one of those days.

Keeping his head down and his hat shading his face, Héctor let himself be dragged out of the building, biting his metaphorical tongue against the “friendly” jeers a few of the workers there threw at him: “Ah, there he is!” “Ey, gotta keep yourself together.” “That was some show on Dia de Muertos! Could’a used more fireworks, though.” “Tough luck, huh? Maybe next year, amigo!”

Yes, maybe next year he would cross so he didn’t have to stick around to hear their estúpido unfunny jokes. But finally he was out of the building and out onto the streets, and Juan shrugged him off of his shoulders. “All right. You can head on home, now.”

“What?” Héctor blurted, snapping his head up to give the guard an incredulous look. “You’re just gonna leave me here like this?”

“This is the Department of Family Reunions, not a transportation service. The gondola station’s two blocks away, trolley is three.”

“Ah, sí, let me just walk over there on my one leg!” he snarled, but the guard had already turned away and was walking up the steps. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he turned to the other officer, who was looking away. “What? Aren’t you gonna leave, too?”

“Uh, well.” Yolanda re-adjusted her grip on his broken tibia, causing him to hiss at the mild pain. “My shift ends in…”—she glanced at her watch—“six minutes anyway. I… I can help you get to the station, if… if you…”

“So you don’t have leaving a pobre soul like me to fend for himself on your conscience?” he muttered, and immediately winced when he realized he’d said it aloud. “I… lo siento. Yes. I would… like that.”

Seeming to ignore his earlier comment, she gave him a look over, her gaze lingering on his bad leg (the fibula barely clinging to his femur and kneecap) before she pulled him a little closer. “Be careful,” she said, and began walking. “Where is it you need to get to?”

Rattling off the tower address and the station that would take him the closest to his section of Shantytown (and it was never close), Héctor put the rest of his focus on keeping his bad leg from falling apart again. That fibula did not want to stay connected, and if he moved his leg just wrong, it was going to come apart again.

“You’re sure I can’t take you to a doctor, señor?” Yolanda asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“No,” he said quickly, staring down at the cobblestone beneath his bare feet. “I don’t have the money, and anyway, they don’t…” Realization struck him, and and he shut his eyes as a numbness filled the void where his stomach once was. “They don’t… treat people who can’t heal.”

The guard went silent after that, and Héctor resumed his focus on keeping his leg from falling apart, or trying to. Don’t think about it right now, he told himself as the numbness slowly began to morph into something more dangerous that would not help him right now. It may still be okay. They can probably still do something for you back home. There are people there worse than you, and they get through, right? You’ll be okay.

“Señor?”

Blinking, Héctor shook himself out of his thoughts and found himself staring down at his solitary foot.

…Wait…

“You… seem to have dropped something back there.”

Ay, this was going to be a long day.

It took a few tries to get his fibula reconnected with the rest of his leg, but they managed, and Yolanda continued to walk him down to the gondola station. They reached it without incident, and Héctor dug through his pouch to scrounge up the coins necessary to pay for the trip, relieved he had enough for that, at least.

“Gracias,” he murmured to the girl as she helped him onto the bench in the little car and handed him the two halves of his tibia. But when she turned around to head out, he blinked. “Are you not coming?”

“No, sorry, señor,” she said, not turning to face him. “I… I need to get home to my family.”

“Ah.” Wish I could say the same. “Adiós, then.”

Unsurprisingly, the other passengers in the gondola seemed to be keeping their distance from him, some of them practically sitting on top of each other to avoid getting too close. The ones across from him deliberately looked away, or stole glances at his leg or his disconnected bones when they thought he wouldn’t notice. It was something he should probably be used to by this point, after so many decades of bearing dusty, yellowed bones and tattered clothes, but some part of him still ached at the thought that he’d become someone that no one wanted to be around.

Not even his family.

Heaving a shaking sigh, he tipped his hat to shadow his face, so he could at least pretend to not notice their stares.

While it was nice to rest his bad leg for a while, at least, the break was short-lived, and the gondola came to its final stop. Héctor stayed put, letting everyone else shuffle out around him so there wouldn’t be any witnesses to the spectacle of him trying to get out on one leg. As he waited, he stared down at his fibula, wondering if he could coax it to stay in place somehow. He had no more tape on him, however (he’d only grabbed as much as he could from the correction officer’s desk before being incarcerated), and not a lot of time before the conductor threw him out. He wrung his hands for a moment before catching a glimpse of his right sleeve—the worn suit had been damaged during his crossing attempt, some of the fabric toward the end hanging in shreds. Having no better ideas, he quickly tore off a strip of the fabric and got to work tying it around the end of his femur and his loose fibula.

Hopefully it would hold, at least until he got to Shantytown. There was nothing else he could do.

With one hand clutching the two halves of his broken tibia close to his chest, he used his other hand to push himself up off his seat, his left leg wobbling. The movement immediately felt wrong—the fibula was not meant to bear weight without the aid of the tibia—but he kept as much weight on his other leg as he could, and began limping.

People waiting the board the gondola immediately backed away upon seeing him, and he ignored them, trying to act like it was the most normal thing for a half-lame skeleton to be limping around and carrying his own broken bones with him. It wasn’t an easy feat when his leg left like it would give out beneath him with every step, but he kept it up anyway, at least until he got past the crowds. It was still a long walk to get to Shantytown from here, and in this condition, it would take even longer.

Héctor found himself getting worn out quickly, and hobbled over to lean against the wall of a building with the intent of resting until he caught his breath. Unfortunately the shop owner had other ideas, and poked his head through the doorway to ask Héctor to not loiter. Héctor could only mumble an apology as he shuffled away, too tired to put up a fight this time.

For some distance he carried on like that, limping down the gradually sloping streets and stopping to rest where he could. Occasionally people would openly stare at him and whisper to each other, but he was beyond caring at this point. Even with his efforts to put most of his weight on his good leg, his left fibula was aching something terrible, and his energy was near-spent by the time he was halfway to Shantytown. He couldn’t very well sleep on the side of the street, in front of one of these buildings—not unless he wanted to get arrested again—or fall asleep in an alley and risk falling prey to petty thieves, so he had to force himself to keep moving.

At one point his foot caught against an uneven cobblestone, and with a wave of blinding panic he realized he was about to slam his already-broken tibia into the street. Twisting himself around on his spine, he managed to turn his front half around, clutching his tibia to his chest for dear life and falling hard on his shoulder. The fall still hurt a bit, dislodging a few bones, but he’d prevented himself from ruining his leg any more than it already was, so at least he had that.

Taking a moment to catch his breath as his panic ebbed away, he called his bones back. He made it to his knees, and, not thinking, tried to push himself up on his bad leg. The pressure sent a jolt of pain through his fibula, and for a terrifying moment he thought the thin bone would snap. But it held, and he eased his leg back down.

As Héctor fought to stand up again, part of him wished someone would see his struggle and help him. But fewer people came down this low on the tower, and those who did walked in a wide arc around him, sparing him a glance, if anything. At the same time, he almost wished no one were here at all, so they wouldn’t have to see him in such a ridiculous predicament. Those who saw him were probably wondering what on earth he’d done to land himself in such a terrible position, and that was a question he didn’t want to explain the answer to.

It took him far longer than it should have to right himself, but he managed, and with a more pronounced limp he resumed his trek down to the shanties. Under his breath he nearly cursed the guard who had simply dumped him on the street when his screams had gotten too grating to listen to. It’s better than staying in there, though, he reminded himself, and the anger reluctantly ebbed away. They could have just made you stay there with your broken leg. And aside from that… they weren’t the ones at fault in the first place.

That would be the idiota who thought that attempting to rocket himself over the bridge via fireworks was a viable plan.

Ay, that would be something to explain to his Shantytown family. People didn’t usually ask questions there, but they might this time given the state he was coming home in. Ah, yeah, the fireworks. Turns out they don’t make good transportation. But they do have a tendency to blow off your limbs if you stand too close. Who knew, right?

A chuckle escaped his throat, only to be cut off by a gasp as his left leg gave out beneath him, sending him crashing to the ground. He wasn’t able to twist himself around this time, and his tibia was caught between his body and the hard cobblestone ground.

All that existed was pain. If Héctor were capable of thinking beyond the current agony, he would have found the pain comparable to what he’d felt the moment he’d realized his tibia was not in one piece.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there before he gradually became aware of a strange barking noise accompanied by an insectoid buzzing and distant footfalls, which he could just barely make out over what sounded like a hoarse scream nearby.

…Oh. That last part was him, wasn’t it?

Choking, he pushed himself up on his arm, wearily raising his head to see a sky-blue and neon-orange alebrije flying toward him—one that looked like a fox with ears as big as its body, and buzzing dragonfly wings carrying it through the air. It was strangely familiar, and suddenly he recalled that one of his primos back in Shantytown had an alebrije like that. But that would mean—!

“Héctor? Cousin Héctor?!”

Héctor wheezed out a laugh and let his head drop, facing the cobblestone below him. “Hola, Primo Lorenzo,” he said, lifting his head again and cocking a brow bone as the man got closer. The alebrije, meanwhile, landed next to him and began sniffing him over, its breath almost ticklish against him. “Good to see you out and about.”

“Where have you been, cousin?!” Lorenzo cried, hurrying closer. His sombrero, tied around his neck, was flailing behind him. “Did you get yourself arrested again? Why are you—Dios mio.” He stumbled, drawing back with an alarmed hiss.

“Ah, it’s, uh… not as bad as it looks.” Héctor gave a sheepish grin, but it must not’ve been enough to convince his primo, who was looking him over in horror.

Quickly Lorenzo’s widened eyes narrowed into a glare as he clenched his fists. “Who did this to you? Who do I gotta send Lola after, huh?”

Héctor looked askance at the little fox alebrije that was now nosing his cheekbone, tickling his face with her whiskers. “Looks like you’ve already sent her after the one responsible, primo.”

Lorenzo looked him over again before heaving a deep sigh, frame wilting. “Come on, let’s get you home.” Stooping down, he grasped Héctor’s hand and eased him to his feet.

Biting back a moan as the pain flared in all parts of his broken leg, Héctor shut his eyes, leaning to his right side. “Gracias,” he breathed, clutching the two halves of his tibia to his chest. He waited, expecting his primo to wrap his arm around his shoulders to help him limp back to Shantytown.

Instead, there was a moment of silence before Lorenzo spoke: “Uh-uh.” And suddenly Héctor was lifted off his feet and scooped up into the man’s arms.

“¡¿Que?!” Héctor blurted, opening his eyes to find himself being carried in the direction of the shanties. “Oye, what are you doing?!”

“You’re not walking like that,” Lorenzo said with a firm shake of his head. “Wouldn’t make it down two steps.”

…Ah. Right. The stairs. He’d forgotten about those. “Fair enough,” he muttered, settling himself in his primo’s arms. Meanwhile, Lola buzzed around him, whimpering in concern. He wondered if Lorenzo would ever ask him what happened, but the man remained quiet, at least until they got to the stairs (in a shockingly short length of time, he thought—at the rate Héctor had been going, it might have taken him another hour or so).

“Heh, thought I was going to go play for tips this evening,” Lorenzo said, shaking his head. “Guess there’s always tomorrow.”

“Do they still come near you?” Héctor glanced toward him; Lorenzo’s bones were only in slightly better condition than his own, though he had a crack through the bottom of his right eye socket.

“Sometimes,” he replied, glancing over Héctor’s ribs so he could see the steps beneath him. “If I can play good enough, sometimes they don’t notice just how yellow my bones are.” He glanced back at Héctor as he stepped down to the first landing. “You should try it sometime, cousin.”

Thinking about playing music again made a heavy weight settle in his chest cavity. “No gracias, primo.”

“Eh. Suit yourself.” With that, Lorenzo kept quiet as he continued carrying Héctor down the rickety staircase, concentrating on not falling off or through the rotten wood. But finally they reached the gates to Shantytown, and Héctor twitched his good leg.

“Set me down,” he whispered, “por favor. I…” I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. “…I think I can walk now.”

“You sure?”

“Sí. Please.”

Shrugging, Lorenzo eased Héctor down to his feet, but kept an arm around his shoulder. Héctor could accept that, throwing his own arm around his primo and grinning like they’d just been having a fun conversation. No need to worry the others, after all.

As they limped into town, immediately it came to life with the joyful cries of the nearly-forgotten. “Cousin Héctor!” a few souls shouted, waving enthusiastically, and he called out their names in return. “Where you been, cousin?” called another.

“Out and about?” He tried to shrug as best as he could. “You know, got to keep up with the plans, heh. Get ready for next year!” It wasn’t entirely a lie—when he’d been able to think around his pain, he had been contemplating potential new plans for next year. And he had been out and about. Primo Lorenzo was giving him a look, but he only grinned back, glancing pointedly in the direction of his shack.

“What’s that you’re carrying?” Tía Chelo asked, taking a few steps closer, and Héctor flinched, tugging it partially under his jacket.

“Nothing, nothing!” he said frantically, contemplating whether or not he should just scramble away from Lorenzo and bolt to his shack. “Just, uh…”

“Are you limping?” one tío asked, also stepping closer. “What’s—eEEEAGH!”

Héctor shut his eyes, gritting his teeth. Here we go.

“What happened to your leg?!”

“Pobrecito cousin! Are you carrying your—?”

“When did this happen?”

Dios, he didn’t want to answer any of this right now. But he held up his free hand, grinning as best as he could as he faced the growing crowd of souls. “Hey, estas bien! I can barely feel it. You don’t need to worry about me, eh, primos?”

“You’ve been gone for two days, Héctor!”

“It doesn’t hurt?! I broke my pinky toe last month and could hardly walk!”

“Is your fibula tied to your femur? ¿Estas loco?”

“¡Apártense!” a harsh voice cut through the crowd, and a few souls moved out of the way. “What’re you all gawking at?”

Héctor flinched, fighting the childish urge to duck behind Primo Lorenzo as a familiar figure hobbled to the front of the crowd. “Hola, Chicharrón,” he said, voice small.

Chicharrón looked him up and down, eying his mangled leg and shattered tibia. Quickly he made the connection, and his usual scowl deepened.

Héctor felt his non-existent guts sink. He knew what was going to happen next, and braced himself.

To his surprise, Chicharrón turned around, hobbling back toward his bungalow. “Well, bring him over,” he called over his shoulder.

…Okay, so he was probably saving it for later, then. Wouldn’t be the first time this had happened. Héctor looked cautiously at Lorenzo, who only shrugged and began to help Héctor across the boardwalk to Chicharrón’s house. A couple souls followed while the rest stared. Their looks may have been ones of sympathy, but Héctor would rather they not look at him at all.

As they entered the bungalow, Chicharrón immediately began digging through his shelves and piles. “Set him in the hammock,” he grumbled, tossing a shoebox full of socks behind him, “and make sure he stays there.”

Héctor frowned. “It’s all right, Cheech. I can get in myself,” he said, moving to get away from Lorenzo so he could prove it.

“No, you can’t.” The old man glanced over his shoulder, nodding at the two souls that had come with them—probably Estefan and Manuel, if he were to guess without looking.

Before he could check, they were both suddenly at either side of him, hooking their arms under his in a way that reminded him a little too much of the security guards back at the bridge. But they weren’t rough, at least, and glancing to either side of him (his guesses had been correct), he found them looking away, their expressions a mix of sympathy and unease. “Wh-what’s with all this, Cheech? You’re just gonna duct tape it back together, aren’t you?” He looked frantically around the house, clutching his tibia as close to his body as he could. “You… have duct tape, right?”

“Mmm, nope, not this time,” came Chicharrón’s grumble from the other side of the house. A cascade of items crashed down at his side as he continued his search, unperturbed. “Leather n’ glue will have to do, and a splint until it sets.”

“Uh… well, that… still sounds doable. If you give it over to me, I could… probably do it,” Héctor offered as his tíos gently lifted him into the hammock. Said hammock was full of junk, and he grimaced, pulling a violin bow out from beneath him as he tried to make himself comfortable. “I mean, not like last time, with my… arm.” His left hand reached over to rub said arm, over the tape and leather that held the fragmented end in place. “I-I’ve got both hands free this time!”

Finally Chicharrón turned to face him, straightening his back. “So set it.”

Héctor blanched, looking down from his tibia and back to Chicharrón. “What, right now?” When the old man’s expression didn’t change, Héctor attempted a smile, the corners of it strained. “What’s the rush? I was just going to head back home and take a nap, first—I mean, not like I’ve got anywhere to—”

Chicharrón marched up to the hammock, his cane stamping against the floor, and held out several strips of leather and a can of glue. “Set it.”

Stepping forward, Lorenzo held out a hand. “Cheech—”

Chicharrón shot a glare at Lorenzo, and waited until he backed off before looking back to Héctor.

Swallowing, Héctor reached out with a shaking hand to take the items, looking from the leather and back to his tibia. It’s… it shouldn’t be that hard, he thought, setting the leather and glue aside and taking one half of his bone in his left hand. Just putting two pieces back together. He bit his lip as he held out the two pieces of bone, trying to ignore that his tíos and primo were all turning away. I’ve done crazier stuff to try to cross the bridge. Trembling, he turned the two halves of the bone in what he guessed was the right angle, and—

The two broken fragments bumped against each other, and Héctor shrieked. Moments later, he could barely hear Chicharrón’s voice over his daze: “Now you see? Lorenzo, take those things over here. Estefan, bring me the rest of his leg. Manny, give him this, and hold him down.”

Before he could ask what was going on, a bottle was held out to him. He took it without question, tipping it back to pour some of its contents down his throat, some of it splashing against his face when his left leg was very suddenly tugged off below the femur. Shortly afterward the bottle was taken from him, and his two tíos stood slightly behind him and off to either side of the hammock, each with their hands over his shoulders.

“Idiota,” Chicharrón grumbled from the other side of the bungalow, and Héctor shut his eyes to keep himself from looking in the old man’s direction. “When we get broke, we don’t get fixed, and you go off with your estúpido plans and…”

“Cousin Héctor,” Lorenzo said over Cheech’s grumbling, hurrying to the hammock, “have you thought about your plan for next year?”

Héctor eyed him. “Why are you asking me n—”

Pain briefly shot through his absent leg, and his voice hiked up into a yelp, his entire body bucking as his tíos forced him back down. His femur swung around uselessly while his right leg kicked a jar of buttons and a very broken accordion out of the hammock.

“Sí, you were saying you were getting ready earlier,” Estefan said, his voice a little too loud.

Héctor shut his eyes, his hands clinging to either side of the hammock in a death grip. “I-I don’t know yet, the f-fireworks didn’t work this yeeEEAAAAGH—”

“Fireworks?!” Chicharrón growled, and Héctor could only give a pained moan in reply.

“Okay, but what else can you try?” Lorenzo prodded, then waited for a response. “Cousin?”

Feeling like he would throw up if he tried to answer, Héctor only turned his head away, facing the sound of the water lapping the docks outside the house. There was a sudden but light pressure against his chest, and he gasped, looking up into the face of a tiny, big-eared fox. Instinctively he reached out to pet her, and tried to make his mind formulate words. “A-al… alebrije?” he offered, and hissed as he felt something cold between the two halves of his tibia. Lola tipped her ears back at the sound, but didn’t move away, and he kept his focus on her. “C-could… dress as an alebrije, and… and they’d… let me… pass…?”

Behind him came a few soft, but genuine, laughs. “How do you plan to do that, cousin?”

“I… I think Ceci was using some glowy paint—nnngh!” He gritted his teeth, kicking out with his good leg as he felt his bad one get twisted slightly. “Use the—glowy paint, and—”

Chicharrón gave a frustrated cry. “Lorenzo, get over here!”

Héctor could feel them holding his tibia together while something was wrapped around it, binding to it with cold, sticky glue that made him shudder. “C-could rearrange my bones, a-and look like… an alebrije… M-maybe some other costume work…” He shifted, trying to turn to grin up at his tíos. “You think it might work?”

Manuel cocked a brow bone. “Estas loco, cousin. Maybe, though.”

“Heh, un poco,” he mumbled, settling back into the hammock. Whatever they were doing to his leg didn’t seem to hurt quite so much now, and he felt like he could ignore it, maybe if he just shut his eyes again for a little while…

It didn’t feel like long, however, before his leg was suddenly shoved back against his femur. Yelping, he sat bolt upright, the hammock swaying beneath him, and looked around. Lola was sleeping off to his side, and on the other side of the bungalow, he could see his primo and two tíos talking quietly. But then where was—

He glanced back to the left and nearly leapt out of the hammock in surprise to see Chicharrón standing there, scowling at him. “Normally I’d ask you to get outta here, but unless you want your leg to snap like a twig again, lie down. Gotta let the glue set for twenty-four hours.”

“...Gracias, Cheech,” he muttered, lying back into the hammock.

Chicharrón grunted, hobbling back over to a spot that Héctor couldn’t see. Meanwhile, Héctor looked down at his leg, inspecting it: a few long strips of leather had been wrapped around it and held with glue, which he could still see faint glimmers of. But over all that, a splint had been tied to his leg with a few more strips of leather and what appeared to be several strips of a charred fabric. It looked... blue? Purple? Something like that. Sort of like his—

Blinking, he looked to his right arm, only to find the sleeve had been cut off. “Wha—hey!” he cried, turning his head to look for Chicharrón and finding him off to the right behind his hammock. “You wrecked my suit!”

“That sleeve was in shreds anyway,” Chicharrón said with a shrug. “Don’t think you’re missing much.”

“Quite the fashion statement!” Manuel called from the other side of the shack. Héctor was almost offended, but his tío gave him a good-natured grin—a real one, not like the ones the people in the Department of Family Reunions gave him. “Maybe you’ll set a new trend.”

Héctor snorted, settling himself back into his hammock and shaking his head. “Ah, yes. The just-recently-blown-yourself-up look. Sure it’ll be... explosively popular, eh?”

The others broke into laughter, while he was pretty sure he could hear Cheech rolling his eyes before shouting: “I’ll dump that hammock out into the water for the next one, Héctor!”

Lorenzo stepped up closer to Chicharrón, smiling. “Why’s that, Cheech? You don’t think it’ll take off?”

An empty bottle crashed at Lorenzo’s feet, and Lola’s head shot up from where she lay at Héctor’s side. But Lorenzo only laughed, and she settled back down, tucking her face against Héctor’s ribcage. Héctor smiled, resting his hand on her head as he glanced back down at his broken leg.

It still hurt a lot, and he wasn’t sure how well he was going to walk after this. On top of that, he had another failed Dia de Muertos behind him, but...

Glass clinked nearby, and Héctor craned his neck to see Chicharrón taking a swig from a new bottle before passing it over to the others. The bottle was passed around until Lorenzo handed it off to Héctor, who took it with no small amount of gratitude, tipping it back. He probably drank more than Cheech would’ve liked, but it was enough to make him too drowsy to care.

He leaned back in the hammock as conversation resumed around him, still warm and friendly in spite of Chicharrón’s occasional grumbles—so different from the harsh voice of the security officer, the mocking voices from the Department of Family Reunions, or the suspicious whispers of the people in the upper parts of the city. It didn’t sound much different from any other day in the shanties, but it was comforting in the way only Shantytown could be.

The sloshing of the water outside and the sound of the voices around him faded and blurred into a pleasant murmur as Héctor shut his eyes.

He didn’t have much else going for him, but right now, his Shantytown family was enough.

[elvesofnoldor]

.

[hournites]

Blackouts (1/2)

Part two

Hournite being cute? Okay. 

~.~

Beth looked down at the print out instructions of the lab, double-checking that her station had all the instruments that she’d need as she tied her apron on.

“Hey.” She turned to find Rick with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He dumped it onto the surface. “I can help you with that.” 

His hands were on her skin suddenly. Beth nearly jumped. The hairs stood at the back of her neck as he finished tying the apron for her. He stepped aside when he was done and flashed her one of his half-smiles. 

Somehow along the way of becoming team members for JSA, without any verbal agreement about the matter, Rick stood in as her permanent team partner for school assignments. It was as surprising as it was welcome, Beth had been accustomed to doing everything alone. Or even, everything separately next to Rick, but alone. Now they did everything together. 

“Hi,” she said as he threw on clear goggles of his own. “The experiment we’re supposed to complete is to prove Charles’s Law—” 

“Which states that the volume of gases equals a constant value, the pressure, multiplied by its temperature as measures by Kelvin,” he droned on after a second of a glance at the page. 

“Um,” she said after an awkward pause. “Wow. You really have been studying those chemistry textbooks.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit embarrassed about it. Beth wasn’t sure why. It was impressive. She had a perfect GPA, but she had to work hard at it. With that kind of memory, Beth wondered what else Rick could easily do. Rick shifted on his feet as if he could sense her scrutiny and it was making him uncomfortable. “Hey, Beth, listen. We don’t even need to do the experiment, I know all the answers to the questions for the lab report.”

He slid the worksheet from her side over the table, borrowing her pencil to answer the questions. Her eyes widened as she watched him speed through it all without even needing a calculator to transfer the Celsius to Kelvin. 

A minute later he dropped the pencil. “Done.”

Beth gaped. “Did you just—?”

The tips of his ears went red. “Yeah. Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

“Then what are we going to do for the next fifty minutes?” Kids were still trickling into the lab. The bell hasn’t even rung yet for the class to officially start. 

Rick looked around, making sure they weren’t being overheard then leaned into Beth’s space. “Do you remember the badminton birdie that Sportsmaster threw at us?”

“You mean the smoke grenade he threw at us?” 

He nodded. 

“What about it?”

Rick pulled three vials from the pocket of his hoodie and flashed them to her. “You’re the most vulnerable member of the JSA so if we want to keep you safe while you run away, we’re gonna need to make you some of your own.”

Beth’s voice went shrill. “You want to make a bomb?”

He shushed her, putting his hand over her mouth to stop her from catching anyone’s attention. “Not with that volume!” 

He pulled his hand away super quickly, blushing and wiping it against the side of his jeans.

“Rick,” she hissed in dawning horror as she watched him pour dangerous-looking substances into a beaker. Beth tugged on his sleeve, looking back anxiously at their chemistry teacher, explaining Charles Law at the front of the room, oblivious. “Rick. Rick!” 

But he wasn’t listening, focusing on whatever poison he was about to concoct as something started to bubble up in the beaker into a black foam. “Rick! This isn’t safe! Do you know what you’re even doing!?” 

“Relax. I got this.” 

“We could get kicked out of class,” she told him. “We could get suspended. We could catch the room on fire. We could get expelled, Rick.” 

He bit his lip like he was trying to hide his amusement at her nervous ramblings, but he did pause to look at her. “You honestly think Mr. Hyacinth is paying attention to us right now?” He nodded to their teacher, who was busy engaging in some heated discussion with another student at the desk far away.

“....No,” she admitted begrudgingly. “But I don’t think this is a good idea! If we get caught—” 

Rick rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to get caught.” 

“You don’t know that!” 

“Do you want to be protected when we’re out on a mission or not?” 

She chewed on her bottom lip and stayed silent. He knew she knew that was rhetorical. Of course, she did. 

“Look,” he said, nudging her side and lowered his voice again. “I was thinking since you’re Dr. Mid-Nite, we could make you some type of ball that you can throw that will make everything go dark if you’re ever cornered by ISA or alone. And then, since Chuck can give you night vision, only you’d be able to run through that.” 

“...That’s pretty clever,” she allowed, not wanting to let him know it was actually genius. Or at least, it would be if they didn’t have to try to experiment that during fourth-period Chemistry. “How are you doing that?” Because she very much needed to know if he actually had any clue what he was doing or if he swiped any and every flask from under their teacher’s nose that looked potent. There were lab safety rules for a reason. They could accidentally create a lethal gas or worse, Rick could burn his hands off with acid. He wasn’t wearing any gloves. Beth liked Rick’s hands! He needed his hands to be Hourman! 

“Potassium nitrate,” he said, then asked her to pass the sugar from his bag. 

Beth heaved out a heavy sigh, then unzipped his bag to find a few packets of sugar she knew came from the school cafeteria as well as a firework fuse that she didn’t even want to think how he got his hands on. She passed them to him reluctantly, and sighed again, making her disapproval obviously known. 

“Thank you, Beth,” he singsonged in a smug tone that made it clear he knew exactly what she thought of this, and furthermore, knew she’d help him anyway. Beth scowled because it wasn’t fair. 

She watched as he poured ingredients into the mixture like they were baking a very dangerous cake, passing along different chemicals and utensils for the lab that he claimed he needed. 

Beth covered her mouth and held her breath when he lit up the bunsen burner flame to heat up what he was doing. Inside of the beaker now looked like molten lava, solidifying under the flame until it turned into a sickening brown molasses colour. 

It didn’t look normal. This was how they were going to die. This was how they were going to go to jail. 

“I feel like we should ask Chuck for help.” 

“I don’t think so. It’ll be a bigger distractor. Besides, I told you I got this.  I looked it up this morning.” 

Beth didn’t know what to do with that information. Had Rick really woken up today deciding he was going to make bombs for her? And why did the thought give her butterflies? That shouldn’t be so sweet! 

“Rick…” she wanted to ask why he cared so much. Even if it sounded stupid. They were friends. Great friends now. And they were members of the same crime-fighting team. Of course, he’d want to make sure she’s safe. Kids have died because of the ISA and she was at risk for not being good at fighting back against people. It’s just that something told her this wouldn’t be happening if she had partnered up with Yolanda or Courtney. 

And not just because they wouldn’t do something so recklessly stupid (because honestly maybe they wouldn’t do this but they all had their moments) or couldn’t come up with the same ideas. No, because Rick really cared about her, she realized. Like really, really. He went so far as to think up how these blackout bombs would be on theme for her name. Who has ever went out of their way to think about Beth like that? No one. 

She tried to study his face through the blurry smudged safety goggles, but the barrier made it hard to see his eyes. He was fiddling with the firework fuse, attaching it to the clump of mass. She put her hand back on his hoodie sleeve and tugged a bit. He turned as if her tug could do that. Make him stop and listen. Which was crazy, because Rick was big and honestly, she couldn’t stop him, not as Rick or as Hourman, so why did a gentle tug steer him toward her so easily? He looked at her with his undivided attention, waiting for what she had to say. 

Her mouth went inexplicably dry. Taking a breath, she started again. “Rick…” 

The beaker exploded. 

Beth screamed, startling into his side so bad she thought she had a heart attack. Rick held her against him, shielding her from the glass and smoke. Beth’s face was smushed against his black, old borrowed lab apron, his hand protectively against her back. Her heart jumped again, though this time it wasn’t because of the noise. It took a moment for her to realize she wasn’t the one shaking. She looked up to find his entire frame convulsing and her jaw went slack at the sight. 

Rick was laughing. 

Like, genuinely laughing. Beth found herself grinning, eyes growing bright at the scene. She’d never seen Rick laugh. A chuckle or a smirk here and there, yes, but he couldn’t even catch his breath now, he had tears in his eyes and he was holding his side and his face was now pressed against the tabletop to hide from the class staring at them because Rick Harris was laughing. 

At the nosey eyes, Beth took a step back, waving her hands to shoo away their classmates. She craned her neck to find that their teacher wasn’t even in the room. She let out a sigh of relief. “Nothing to see here!” she said, using her go-to spiel whenever one of them did something weird. “That was totally an accident. Our bad!”

She kept shooing until they grew bored, then turned back to assess the mess they made. 

“Oh my god, Rick!” she smacked at his shoulder as she tumbled into her own fit of giggles because his laugh was infectious and happy and the best thing Beth has ever heard in her life. “I told you!” 

But he couldn’t care less about their dangerous chemical exploits, and— She glanced back at the dark residue along the rim of the beaker—She realized she didn’t either. They may need to make some fine-tune adjustments, and maybe look at what they were doing when holding firework fuses in school, but it worked. 

Rick pulled the safety goggles up into his hair and went to find the paper towels and broom to sweep up the glass. When he returned, he stopped and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “What is it?” 

Beth took the broom, carefully guiding the broken glass into the bio-waste bin next to the sink. “Nothing,” she lied badly.  

“Beth…” 

She glanced at him with her pleased grin. “You’re smiling.” 

Rick’s hand dropped against the sink. “Oh.” 

He avoided her eyes, ears reddening again like they did when she was marvelling over his ease with the worksheet. She grabbed his hand and he sucked in a breath, chancing a look. 

“You’re smiling,” she repeated. “I love your laugh!” 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled under his breath, turning away. Beth tightened her hold. 

“You’re happy!” she squeezed his closed fist. His hand loosened in surrender, going flat against the table. Beth turned it over and slipped her hand in his, linking their fingers together. To her utter delight, Rick turned a whole other shade of pink. 

Rick moved their hands so they weren’t on full display over the table, but he squeezed back, and that was all Beth needed to know. 

[mwcowan]

Mark & Georgia’s 2018 Philippines Trip

Here we go again, another trip, another blog. For those of you familiar with our recent Road Trip blog this will be of a different sort because it’s going to be a different sort of trip, a mix of business and pleasure. We’ll be based at Georgia’s mom’s house in Manila, making a series of short trips here and there over the next month. Hopefully it will result in some interesting thoughts and photos.

Day 1:  Graeagle to Sunnyvale to San Jose to SFO

Seems like I was driving all day, although it was a pleasant drive until I got close to the Bay Area into all the traffic. I’ve really gotten used to the “traffic” in Graeagle, where it’s unusual to see more than 3 cars in town. At Georgia’s suggestion I drove straight to EBR for a visit with my old colleagues and to check up on how things are going there. Quite well it seems, with a number of development projects underway, what we engineers like. But everyone seems to be really stressed with all the clinical and regulatory related tasks on their plates now. That’s what I knew would be coming with the US clinical trial, and I’m even more certain I picked the right time to retire.

Took an hour in that lovely traffic to drive from EBR to Georgia’s sister Dinah’s house (all of 12-13 miles) and another hour to drive to SJC and back for Georgia to return her rental car (she had flown there last week). An hour to pack Georgia’s stuff and back on the road to SFO. In our Road Trip blog it was noted that Georgia has trouble packing light and this trip is no exception.

The box weights 69.5 pounds (carefully titrated as the airline limit is 70), the black suitcase is about 55 pounds, the red carry-on is acceptably light. Not shown is a backpack. Yes she has problems packing light. OK, to give her a break, since we’ll be in Manila on Thanksgiving, the box contains a frozen turkey, ham, and all the fixings for a proper Thanksgiving dinner, things that you can’t get in the Philippines. Plus a LOT of other goodies for her mom, our snorkel gear, etc..  She got her standby cleared quickly, got her ‘luggage’ checked with a few stares from the baggage handlers, and was soon off to her flight to Hong Kong.

With my flight to Tokyo in the morning, I overnighted at an inexpensive motel near SFO,  one that turned out to be unexpectedly nice. At least I wasn’t itching in the morning.

In case you don’t know, in the interest of national security we don’t fly together. That’s not really it… Georgia flies Cathay Pacific since she gets family privileges from her sister Vinee, a CP flight attendant. Georgia pays a ridiculously low fare for business class. I fly United since I spent so much time with my butt in their seats for business travel I can buy the cheapest economy fare and use my miles to upgrade.

Day 2: SFO to Hong Kong (Georgia) and Tokyo (Mark)

Both of us had very bumpy flights, on mine the seat belt sign was on most of the time, and the flight attendants were told to buckle up multiple times. Didn’t stop me from eating and drinking my way across the Pacific though; I arrived in Tokyo fully stuffed. Georgia reports the same on arrival to HK.

Flying in the front of the plane is the only way to go; I fear the day when my miles run out. Georgia may have to take a job with an airline so I can get family privileges. Anyway, she’s continuing on to Manila this afternoon while I’m overnighting in Tokyo at another airport hotel and flying on to Manila tomorrow morning. The flight with a 19-hour layover is a lot cheaper than one with a short connection, saving much more than the cost of a hotel. That’s a good enough reason but I admit to being a travel wuss, I like having this break to get cleaned up and rested. No reason to hurry!

Day 3: Tokyo to Manila

Easy travel day to Manila for Mark; couldn’t sleep so got up early and went to the airport (a 2 min walk from my hotel) and had breakfast at the nice ANA lounge. Smooth flight to Manila but with the usual holding pattern on arrival. I’ve never flown into that airport without doing at least a few circles. I think the airport planners are the same people who planned the traffic control in Manila.

Speaking of Manila traffic, shortly after I arrived we needed to drive Georgia’s mom to meet with the family attorney to have some documents notarized. Off we went to Alabang, one of Manila’s districts, with Mark driving and only a vague idea of where we were going… after many calls to the attorney we finally decided we’d never find the meeting spot and just parked and told him where we were. He knew the area well and was able to find us. By the time we headed back home it was dark, which makes driving in Manila even more terrifying. People all over the place, motorcycles, trikes, and jeepneys pulling in and out and stopping wherever and whenever. Feels like you’re inside a video game. Luckily we got home before we ran out of lives; Mark quickly headed to the fridge to grab a much-needed San Mig.

Sorry for not having more pictures, but there havn’t been many photo opportunities up to this point. Things will pick up in a day or two.

Day 4: Manila to Tacloban

A couple errands this morning then back to the house to pack our bags for a 3-night trip (nice light luggage this time!) then to the airport for a quick flight to Tacloban on Leyte island. A couple days of business to conduct here and in Catbalogan on the nearby island of Samar. You probably remember Tacloban from the 2013 super-typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda in the Philippines). Tacloban was the center of devastation from this storm. The city was all but destroyed; nearly 6000 perished in this city alone. Flying in we could see one of the reasons the storm wreaked such havoc – the city and territory surrounding it are very level and low-lying, stretching flat many miles until the mountains are reached. Besides the winds which removed nearly every roof in the city, storm surges of up to 20 feet did the most damage, including completely leveling the airport we flew into. We didn’t know what to expect, but were pleased to see a strongly recovering city and meet a few people whose strength, determination, and pride are readily apparent. There are still a few reminders of the storm, we saw 4 or 5 abandoned, gutted, roofless buildings, but almost all traces are gone and the city has been rebuilt, at least on the roads we passed.

In a striking contrast to Manila, traffic here is very civilized. Our taxi driver actually stopped and let another car enter a roundabout before him! To regress a bit and explain Manila traffic, in the US we drive (most of us at least) by the lines on the road and by rules where for every situation the right of way is defined. Right of way in Manila is determined by which car can squeeze a millimeter in front of the other. Georgia has remarked that it’s a great waste by the government painting lines on the roads as no attention whatsoever is paid to the lines, the number of lanes being defined by the number of cars, trucks, and motorcycles that can possibly squeeze side to side within, and often beyond, the edges of the roadway. It can seem like total chaos, but carnage and catastrophic accidents are minimal as traffic speeds using these principles are generally reduced to a crawl.  Vendors in flipflops can walk in between and around cars without fear of being run over as they can move faster than the cars can.  It surprisingly works as long as you’re in no hurry to get somewhere.

A side note... if you like a glass of wine or two, finding it can be challenging as the Philippines is not at all a wine-drinking nation. Interestingly enough, grape cultivation and winemaking were brought to California by the Spanish Catholic priests and followed the path of the missions. Yet with 300 years of Philippine colonization by the Spanish, grape growing appears to have been unsuccessful here and wine can be difficult to find.

Normally we don’t worry about it and settle for a cold San Miguel. This evening Georgia was craving a glass before dinner so we asked at the hotel desk where we could find a bar or restaurant that could help us get a fix, and we were pointed to a place across the street.  Georgia was excited when the menu had a small wine list, including two Cabernets and a Merlot. She asked for one of the Cabernets; the waitress said she had to go check if they had it. She came back shortly and apologized, saying they were out of that wine. Georgia asked for the other Cabernet. Sorry we’re out of that one too. OK, what about the Merlot? Sorry ma’am, we’re out of the Merlot too. Do you have any wines? No ma’am, we’re out of all wines. Amusing to us at least as this is a recurring story – we’ve even seen nice restaurants in large hotels in Manila, with impressive wine lists, unable to produce anything but a Barefoot Bynum red. Maybe Georgia goes to work for an airline, and Mark starts a wine import business. We finally got a lead for a nice Italian restaurant, which had a good selection of Italian wines. An excellent dinner and Georgia finally got her wine! Another thing you wouldn’t expect here is great Italian food – we both feel that we’ve found some of the best outside of Italy, in restaurants started by Italian ex-pats who have been captured by Filipina wives (or vice-versa)! I can understand that. 😊

Day 5:  Tacloban to Catbalogan

This morning’s business was a meeting with the local head of the Philippines Land Bank. This is a government-chartered organization obtaining land and re-selling to farmers. The income from the farmer’s loans funds the acquisition of property. The subject transactions here are about 165 hectares (400+ acres) of family-owned property in Catbalogan, much of which has been settled on by squatters/farmers. This is the type of land the Land Bank is trying to get, to officially distribute to the squatters and make them legal taxpayers. The family has been trying for many years to deed the property over and receive payment. Many frustrating years, always being told that this document or the other is needed; when that’s produced there’s always another. And then the next time they go back, the official they were working with isn’t there any more and no one has any recollection of previous actions.

The meeting went well, it seems that the government is making an effort to centralize and simplify these things, for example going forward this can be handled through the office in Manila rather than having to travel to Tacloban. According to the official very little is left to do before this can be completed. Georgia warns that we shouldn’t count on this assurance yet.

Now we’re tourists for the afternoon – our driver picks us up from the Land Bank and we head towards Catbalogan. We’d hired a driver and car for the day to take us around on our errands and then deliver us to Catbalogan, about 110 km from Tacloban. On the way he drove us through one of the areas hardest hit by the typhoon, a low-lying seaside area of shanty homes. You may remember seeing post-typhoon pictures of a large freighter sitting on land quite a way from the water – rather than removing the whole thing they left it in place, some 300 meters from the water, built some structure around it and turned it into a memorial for the Typhoon victims. Strange to see a freighter in the neighborhood but a fitting tribute.

The disturbing part of it though is the neighborhood. The whole area was completely swept bare, but it’s been rebuilt as it was, with poorly constructed shacks of wood and tin. That’s how the people lived before, and what they know, but it’s a shame that the government didn’t help relocate them or at least build more substantial homes.

We drive over the San Juanico bridge which links Leyte and Samar islands, the longest bridge in the Philippines, built during the Marcos regime. Current president Duterte plans to build a longer one (mine’s longer than yours!) linking Luzon to Visayas but it hasn’t been built yet. Following the bridge is a winding 2-hour drive up the mountains and back down into Catbalogan.

Catbalogan is a city “in the provinces”. I’d heard that term before but wasn’t sure what Filipinos were referring to – the meaning is similar but more polite sounding than our euphemism “out in the boonies”. It’s a busy city, but very remote and without many of the amenities you find in the larger cities. We’re booked at the most expensive hotel in town: a “deluxe triple room” with private bath is $34/night. The room is cozy with a double and a single bed and not much space to move around, but the hotel is spotlessly clean, due we think to the army of OJT (on-job-training) helpers from a local high school. At least 20 of these always-smiling faces are constantly cleaning and re-cleaning, each one stopping to give us a warm greeting whenever we appear, coming or going.

To me, Catbalogan is the “city of trikes”. Manila has a lot of trikes, but this city is totally clogged with them, and they’re all in (slow) motion all the time. Both motor- and human-powered, passenger trikes and delivery, they’re everywhere. Colorful, each has been customized by its owner, with the owner’s name and often a favorite bible verse or a personal testament to the glory of God emblazoned on front or back. Some busses and delivery trucks are also on the streets, but few private cars. Why would you need one? A noisy and bumpy ride on a motor trike costs 8 pesos (about 15 cents) to take you anywhere in the city. The pedal trikes are the economy ride, only 7 pesos. We go first class!

You can play a quick video of a trike ride in Catbalogan here:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/3SMSh43GFNhmnvf79

Day 6:  Catbalogan

Business day #2 with visits to the Registry of Deeds (task is to get the deed to the property annotated with the names of the new settlers), then to the Department of Agrarian Reform (task unknown). Conference with Georgia’s sister in the US and back to the DAR to ask for a map of the new property division. Both the ROD and DAR have promised to have the documents ready tomorrow morning so back we’ll go.

While here in Catbalogan we’ve been “taken care of” by a family that is linked to Georgia’s by a long friendship. Third-generation daughter Bayan has been helpful getting us to the various appointments; today we met Lola (grandmother) Noling, the family matriarch, at her electronics and appliance store she’s been running for 65 years. She’s 87 and going strong, no hurry to retire. We were chatting in the store and asked if they knew a place that had good Tomalos – a Filipino take on the tamale with rice “masa” around a pork filling, coated with peanut butter, then wrapped in banana leaf and steamed. With typical Filipino hospitality, it seemed only minutes before table and chairs were pulled out and Tamalos and Lumpia appeared for us to try. Different, delicious, and RICH! Georgia and I couldn’t quite finish a whole one. And also in true Filipino fashion just as we were putting our forks down we were asked what we’d like for lunch. Oh jeez, didn’t we just finish lunch? Lola Noling definitely wanted to take us out so we agreed to dinner, we’ll meet her at the store around closing time.

Dinner was at a nice restaurant right on the harbor, with Lola Noling, daughter Collette (Bayan’s mom), two of her sons Bong and Jun, Bayan, and a few more family members. A feast of delicious food, more than enough beer, hilarious conversation with her sons trying to speak English and me trying to understand Taglish – it was one of those amazing times that leaves you with a smile, a warm heart, and a new family.

Day 7:  Catbalogan to Tacloban to Manila

Georgia thinks I’m writing too much. Maybe I’m trying to find things to write about in the absence of any real interesting travel. I’ll keep it short today.

Two more appointments this morning. First back at the DAR to pick up maps of the property. This visit was successful. Then an appointment at the Registry of Deeds to meet with the registrar whom Georgia had an appointment with yesterday but she wasn’t in the office. She was most helpful (not) explaining the number of documents that still needed to be completed and 2 new cities we would have to visit to get this done. One step forward, 2 back.

We took a shared ride van back to Tacloban, through rain most of the way. The highlight of the day was a 30 minute trike ride from the van terminal to the airport, in the rain. Remember, these things don’t have doors – Mark held an umbrella out as a door/windshield and managed to stay pretty dry. His luggage tied to the back of the trike didn’t fare quite as well.

Day 8:  Manila to Nasugbu

Finally! Today we made the 2 ½ hour drive from Manila to Nasugbu, the location of Kawayan Cove and our house-to-be. This is the third time we’ve made this drive ourselves (no driver) and it’s starting to seem familiar, at least when we get out of Manila and onto the Cavite Expressway heading south. Today I got very much the same feeling as when I drive from the Bay Area to Graeagle, with lots of traffic and the associated stress until we reach Auburn, about halfway there. After that it’s an enjoyable drive through the mountains and pine forests the rest of the way. This was very similar – through Manila, Cavite, all the way to Naic it’s a lot of traffic and those ever-annoying trikes. Past Naic you enter the mountains, tropical jungle rather than pine trees, and all the traffic, trikes, and stress disappear. Finally we get our first view of the Batangas coast, and get that peaceful feeling that we’re getting close to home.

We’re staying for three nights at Punta Fuego, a members-only golf and residential club just up the coast from Kawayan Cove. Luckily one of Georgia’s brother-in-law’s parents are members here and can make reservations for us at one of the club’s guest “casitas”.

Lovely place with a lot of different beaches and nice amenities – we looked at properties here but as this is one of the older developments along this coast all of the better lots are already taken, and we had our hearts set on an ocean view. Not to mention the prices, and the monthly dues, and all that…

Tomorrow we get to see our house for the first time!

[lovelybones81]

Unthinkable

Summary: Seven years, three movies, two people, one story. But before they can get their happily ever after, Sebastian Stan and Camille Solis must learn to trust in each other and in themselves, before allowing the unthinkable to happen.

Warnings: Fluff, future smut, Language, Angst, mental health, WOC lead character

Rating: NC-17

NOTE: Hi yall! I’m reposting the last chapter because for whatever reason, it’s not showing up on my masterlist! I’m working on the next chapter as we speak! **update: I’ve decided to combine the last 2 chapters as one, since they are are so short! 

Chapter 15   The Hard Stuff

 “Dude! Where the hell have you been?” Chace Crawford exclaimed, gently slapping Sebastian on the chest.

 Sebastian distractedly took a long drag from his cigarette. “Huh? What?” Blowing the smoke from one side of his mouth, his eyes wondering around the large outside terrace. “Have you seen Cass?” He asked, ignoring Chace question completely. “Or Camille?” 

 Chace gave his friend a curious look, but before having the chance to respond, a female voice interrupted. “Chace!” she whined. “I thought we were going to dance?” Sebastian frowned in annoyance at the voice.

 “Get us another round of drinks.” Chace ordered sweetly. “I’ll be right in.” The woman didn’t argue, just gave him a beaming smile, turning on her heels and making her way back inside. Once the admirer was out of sight, Chace turned back to Sebastian. “What happened to you?”

 At the same time Sebastian asked again. “Have you seen Cam?”

 Yes, Camille. That’s who he needed to talk to. He wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth if he found Cassidy first. He was fuming. 

 “I saw Cass inside with-. “  Chace stopped as realization hit his face. “Oh.” His eyes widening. 

 “Yeah.” Sebastian muttered after taking another long puff. 

 “C’mon man, you know she didn’t mean any harm-“ 

 Sebastian glared. “She needs to learn how to stay out of people’s damn business.” Taking an angry puff off his cigarette. Camille, himself, Alyssa and Chace had an early dinner. Then met up with a few other mutual friends at a high-end bar/club Chace has suggested. He had been having a pleasant night until about twenty minutes ago. The night has been going pretty smooth, with drinks, dancing, laughing and flirting all around. He even gotten a nice buzz after a few beers, but it slowly began to fade when someone bumped into him at the bar. 

 His first thought was: Camille coming to join him after she had disappeared to the ladies room. But he had been mistaken. Sebastian hadn’t talked or seen his ex-girlfriend since the breakup. At first, it had been because of their busy work schedules, but eventually it was by Sebastian’s choice. As more time passed, a few things had begun to come to light about her unfaithfulness during their time together.

 “She must have put her up to this-. “  Chace said, trying to defend Cassidy. 

 “Yea well- she should have known better.” Sebastian growled, putting the beer bottle up to his mouth. Wanting desperately to get the alcohol buzz back. He knew drinking was not the answer, but it was the only thing he could control. Beer and a cigarette was all he needed at the moment-and talking to Camille. 

 “Camille did come out here with me...” Chace mumbled, looking around his surroundings with concern. “Wait-she was with Cassidy before you went to the bar. I thought she-“ 

 Chugging the last bit of his beer, he tossed the empty bottle in the trash can closest to him and snorted. “I think I would have noticed if she has been standing next to Leighton.” He might have reacted a bit nicer if Camille had been around. Instead all the anger, confusion and hurt had seeped out and he had been nothing but snippy with Leighton and Cassidy. And from the expression on Cassidy’s face, she had thought she was doing a service putting them together in the same room. But before Sebastian had the chance to say anything, she quickly disappeared with a lame excuse. Leaving him alone with his ex. 

 By then, people had started to gawk and Sebastian knew he would have to be the adult and walk away. He wasn’t as well-known as other actors but in the New York scene people knew who he was. And they especially knew about the relationship with Leighton. So he said his hello through gritted teeth, even giving her a quick hug before walking away. It had not been enough. She followed and cornered him, wanting an explanation on why he had been avoiding her phone calls. Before he even realized what was happening they had made their way into one of the VIP bathrooms, bickering and fighting. 

 It wasn’t his style. But something inside of him hated the fact that she had shown up at the same bar he was at. Because he knew it had not been a coincidence. She planned this.

 “Oh wait.” Chace started. “She got a phone call!” nodding vigorously at his revelation.  

 “Who?”

 “Camille!” He peeked over his shoulder. “So she’s out here somewhere.”

 Sebastian laughed despite his mood. “Thanks man.” Placing a hand on top of Chace’s shoulder. “Did you see which way she went?”

 “Toward the other side of the terrace…I think.”

 Glancing down at the watch Camille had given him for his birthday, he wondered who she was on the phone with. It was past midnight in New York, and even though it was 2 hours earlier in Los Angeles, he was pretty sure Tia Yolanda was already in bed. Which meant she was most likely on the phone with her sister.  

 He took a puff from his cigarette once more before speaking.  “I’ll find her.” 

 Chace nodded. “Cool.” Glancing eagerly over Sebastian’s shoulder into the inside of the bar. 

 Sebastian smirked. “Didn’t you send her to fetch drinks?” He teased.  

 Chace glared back at Sebastian. “Ha-ha.” He said sarcastically. “I’ll catch you later.” He must have spotted the female admirer inside because Sebastian didn’t even get a chance to say a word before Chace quickly disappeared back into the bar.

 Shaking his head, Sebastian turned on his heels in the opposite direction, in search of Camille. The outside terrace was bigger than he expected, for the next 15 minutes he walked virtually all the way around with no sight of her. He was about to give up and head back inside, but came to a halt- from the corner of his eye, he spotted her leaning into the rails of the terrace, half of her body turned to him, with one elbow slanted over the top of the rail, her head tilted to the other side. Sebastian’s eyes looked her up and down. Once again, flabbergasted of how strikingly beautiful she was- even if it was from the back side. Tonight she had chosen to wear a dark pencil skirt with a low back cream cami, outlining every single curve and strappy heels to match, her curls up, divulging her neck.

 Sebastian licked his lips sensually, putting the last bit of his cigarette out in the corner ashtray, forgetting for a split minute why he’d been looking for her in the first place. His thoughts couldn’t help but drift to whether or not she was wearing anything else underneath the skirt.

 But as quickly as the thought came to him, the faster he chastised himself for thinking it. Besides, checking her ass out was not the reason he had been looking for her.

 What he needed was his friend who would listen to him. For the last few weeks he had been trying not to burden her with his problems, but now realized he did need someone to talk to. Camille’s words from the night before resonating; about him being her best friend. He felt the same way. Camille was now part of his core of friends, one of his best friends. He wasn’t sure of where their relationship was going to lead or end up -if earlier conversation was any indication (it felt like a seesaw at times trying to guess who would pull who down first) but they were in each other lives now and Sebastian wouldn’t have it any other way.

 She was intently into her conversation she hadn’t notice him nearing closer. He stood a few feet away, his ears picking up on the phone call. 

 “Did you drive?” Camille asked in a troubled tone. There was a pause on the other end as she listened to whomever was speaking. She spoke again. “Okay- I mean is there any way you could have someone drive you home? Or pick you up? You shouldn’t be driving-.” She pleaded softly. The person on the other line must have been arguing because he heard Camille say: “Promise me you’ll get someone to take you home.” She urged. “Do you want me to call-. “ Getting interrupted again. 

 Sebastian watched her body language, one finger nervously playing with a few curls that had fallen from the top of her head. Sighing she spoke again. “I know you’re sorry-but we can-.“ But not able to finish her sentence, instead she let out an exasperated sound. “Why?” Another pause, as the voice on the other side of the line spoke. “Because you’ve had a lot to drink and you aren’t making any sense right now.” Camille’s voice sounding defeated as she straighten up, back still to Sebastian. 

 He wasn’t all the way sober, but the pieces slowly started to fit together on who she was on the phone with. And it made him clinch his jaw in annoyance. Wasn’t she avoiding his calls? Isn’t that what she had asked him to do earlier in the park? Hit the ignore button on her phone? Why hadn’t she done that again?

 “I know you wish it wouldn’t have happen.” Camille lamented. Sebastian knew he should not be eavesdropping, but couldn’t seem to move from his spot. “But it did. And I really don’t want to talk about this-.”  David must have interrupted because she was quiet for a few more seconds. “Right now you just need to find a way to get home.” 

 Sebastian felt his stomach tighten in anger, listening to her plead with him. And why the hell was David calling anyway? She was thousands of miles away, she couldn’t do anything from New York. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? 

 “David-this isn’t the time.” Anxiously tugging on the curl wrapped around d her finger. “I-I don’t know when-but it’s not right now.” She stammered. “No I can’t come home.” Another long pause. “It’s not that-.“ Stomping her foot lightly on the ground beneath her. “Don’t!” Camille exclaimed in her best stern voice. 

 Sebastian had the sudden urge to take the phone from her and throw it over the terrace. Yet a part of him was annoyed with her as well. Why continue to torture herself? 

 “If you show up, you know Nat will not hesitate to call the police.” Camille warned. “And I can’t meet you. I’m not back in LA yet.” Letting out a dejected sigh, as if she knew the conversation was not going to lead anywhere new.

 She spoke again. “What? I’m not understanding.” David must’ve repeated himself because the next words out of Camille’s mouth were: “I’m not sure. Maybe in the next few days?” Slowly turning around so she rested against the terrace rail and at the same time tossed her head back. “No, not in Manchester.” Sebastian heard her murmur. He must’ve asked where she was, because she hesitated to answer. “Just promise me you’ll fine away to get home.” Trying to change the subject. “I can’t stay on the phone with you all night.” 

 Even though she no longer had her back to him, she still hadn’t notice him standing there. She was quiet for a few minutes, the phone still to her ear, listening. 

 “This is not how we should be having this conversation.” She started again. “Why have I been avoiding you? Because this hasn’t been easy for me and I needed to try and deal with it.” Another long pause. “Hold on I can’t hear you.” 

 Sebastian watched her take the phone away from her ear to tap the screen. 

 “I want us to work this out.” David’s voice came over the speaker phone. “I miss you.” His words slurring. 

 “Just get home.” Camille repeated. “Okay?” 

 “No!” David’s voice adamant. “Not until you say we will-will work this out. Not until you say you’ll talk to me when you get back here.” He pushed, and she shut her eyes, not saying a word. “Camille? Ille…” he pleaded.

 It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the hurt in her as she listened to David plead with her. If he could only see what his actions were doing to her.

 “These last few weeks haven’t been easy.” She confessed. 

 “I know sweetheart. And it’s my fault.” David replied, his words still slurring. “I love you Camille. I-I love you.” 

 She rubbed a hand nervously over her face. “I know David.” 

 “Then let me p-prove it. Let’s talk okay? Please. I know you still love me. We’ve been together too long to just end things this way.” He was begging now, that was obvious. 

 Good. He didn’t deserve her. 

 Camille folded one arm across her chest bringing the other arm up with the phone up to her face, listening. Sebastian watched her quickly wipe a tear away. “I’m gonna get off the phone.” She managed to say. 

 “Wait-sweetheart-“ 

 She shook her head even if though he couldn’t see it. “No, no. I gotta go.” It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself. “You’ve obviously have had a lot to drink and I’m not exactly the most sober person right now... and answering was a mistake.” Taking in a shaky breath. 

 David wasn’t giving up so easily. Sebastian heard him quickly speak again. “Okay, okay-at least think about it? Please? Say you’ll think about seeing me when-when you get home?” 

 Camille wiped another tear from her face before answering. “If I do-will you head home right now? Have someone pick you up?” She tried to bargain. 

 “Yeah. Yes.” 

 “Okay-I’ll think about it.” 

 “Yeah?”

 “Yes.” Camille stated. 

 “Great!” David said too enthusiastically for Sebastian’s taste. “You know I love you right? I love you.” He repeated for what seemed the 100th time in the past 10 minutes.

 Sebastian watched Camille turn to lean into the terrace railing again. “I know.” Sebastian heard her say. “I...love you too.” 

 Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, feeling like someone has just stung him in the chest, listening to Camille say those three little words to someone else. He knew he shouldn’t be listening. It wasn’t his business. Camille was a grown woman after all. Barely hearing Camille say goodbye to David, he turned on his heels, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

 “Seb?” He heard her call out. 

 He stopped mid-step, jaw twitching, eyes shut. Well, so much for that idea. Slowly he turned back in her direction. She stood in the same spot, only this time facing him, her phone gripped tightly in her hand, a forced smile on her beautiful face. 

 “No wine?” She tried to tease making her way toward him. 

 “Huh?” 

 “I thought you went to the bar to get us drinks?” 

 “You disappeared on me, so it just seemed useless.” He said in an edgy tone, not sure where it was coming from. Camille must have noticed too because her eyes widen in surprise. 

 “What’s wrong?” She quickly asked, taking a closer step. 

 Sebastian shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “Nothing.” He lied. 

 Was she going to tell me him about David? Or just pretend like the conversation had just not happen? What the hell was wrong him?! Who was he to demand any explanation from her? But he couldn’t seem to control his emotions at the moment. He was annoyed and angry on how she handled the whole situation with David.

 “Liar.” Camille stated with a suspicious glare.

 Her response only infuriated him. So he snapped back. “Are you okay?” mirroring the same look she had given him.

 Tilting her head to one side, she broke the gaze for a split second, pressing her lips together before locking eyes again.  “I’m fine. What makes you think I’m not?” 

 So she was going to pretend as if the phone call hadn’t happen. “Just making an observation.” 

 Wrinkling her forehead. “Did I do something to upset you?” She asked cautiously 

 Was he upset? Fuck yes he was. His cheating ex-girlfriend had just cornered him, and he had just heard the girl he had feelings for confess her love to her cheating ex fiancé, so yes he was a little upset. And confused. And he needed another cigarette and beer to deal with this. Could he possibly be overacting? Yes. But his drunk ass was not listening to reason at the moment.  

 Shrugging nonchalantly he responded. “No. Why would I be?” 

 If he wasn’t irritated himself he would have been scared of the dirty look she was giving him. She shrugged and snipped back. “Just making an observation of my own.”  

 Sebastian wasn’t sure how long they stood there -just staring, but it was obvious they were both trying to figure out what the other one was thinking. He spoke up first. “We should probably get back inside with everyone else.” Pointing in the direction of the club. 

 Camille’s face soften, reaching out to touch his elbow. “Wait- Sebastian what’s going on?”

 He knew he could talk to Camille, that’s why he had been looking for her in the first place. But after hearing (fine, eavesdropping) on the conversation, he was hesitant to do so. It didn’t make sense, it was just how he was feeling at the moment. “Nothing.” He repeated, forcing a smile. “I just need another beer.” Patting his back pocket. “And maybe a cigarette…” he mumbled to himself. Where the hell did he leave his pack? Maybe his behavior was a bit petty, he just couldn’t help himself.  He patted his pants again. “Where the hell did I put them?” He mumbled to himself. He looked up in surprise when Camille handed him the pack. 

 “You asked me to hold on to them while you went to the bar.” She reminded with a small smile. 

 “Thanks.” He muttered. Shit, he had. That conversation felt like so long ago now. They had been flirting for most of the night. Getting closer and closer as they sat in the VIP area with the rest of his friends when he’d realized Camille’s glass was empty. So he offered to get them refills. 

 “Sure.” Camille answered, gripping tightly on to her phone. 

 Glancing down at her hands, Sebastian found himself asking. “Were you on the phone with someone?” He didn’t know why he had asked but a part of him wanted to know what her answer would be. 

 Camille looked anywhere but his face, licking her lips nervously with a shake of her head. “No.” She answered simply. “Just needed some air.” 

 He gave a small nod back, taking another cigarette out of the pack. Okay, so she wasn’t going to tell him about the phone call. Why did it bother him so much? Because for the last months they shared everything. Not sure of what else to say, he put the cigarette to his lips.  

 Camille took another step closer, facing him. Without warning she took it out of his mouth. “What happened?” 

 He glared, trying to grab it back from her. “What are you talking about?” 

 She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Well, 20 minutes ago you were all happy and drunk and now you look like someone hurt your puppy.” She tried to joke.  

 He was getting tired of this conversation. What was the big deal? She didn’t need to know his mood change had to do with her and his ex. “You’re right- I’m upset.” He started. “I’m upset because I’m out of beer.” Trying his best to not sound cross with her, he forced a smile, but it quickly faded when he spotted Cassidy walking toward them. Camille opened her mouth to respond, but shut it when she saw the look on his face. She slowly turned her head, following his gaze. Cassidy stood a few feet away, nervously bouncing on the balls of her heels. He clinched his fists at the sight of her. He needed to control his anger. Or at least try.  

 Cassidy tugged a strand of blond hair behind her ear, slowly walking over to them.  “Sebastian, I’m so sorry.” She stated quickly. “I had no idea she was going to do that…“ Stammering the last part. 

 Sebastian couldn’t help but glare. “You know Cass -you should really learn how to stay out of peoples business.” He barked. 

 “Sebastian-. “  Camille warned. 

 But he wasn’t listening. He was angry. Why did everyone else think they knew more about his relationships than he did? Cassidy had been pushing for Leighton and him to reconcile for weeks now. “You knew exactly what would happen.” He accused. Camille watched the both of them, not sure of what was going on. Sebastian continued. “You just have to be the middle of everything...” 

 Cassidy eyes widen at the words. “I said I was-“ 

 Sebastian brought a hand up. “If I were you- I would keep quiet because nothing you say is going to change any of this.” He snapped. If he wasn’t so upset he would have felt a bit guilty at the way she looked right now. 

 “Sebastian-. “  He heard Camille repeat softly. “Maybe this can be talked over tomorrow?” She suggested. “When everyone is a bit more sober?” 

 Breaking the gaze from Cassidy, he looked back at Camille, his jaw twitching. “This really doesn’t concern you.” He blurted out.

 Camille raised both eyebrows, in confusion and hurt. But it quickly fade, the look in her eyes held anger as she narrowed them at him. Chewing on her lower lip she cleared her throat, taking a step back from him. “You’re right.” She said shortly. “I’m sorry.” Looking between them. “I’ll be inside…getting another drink.”

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sebastian let out a large frustrated sigh. He hadn’t meant to make her feel alienated, he just didn’t know how to handle all these damn feelings at the moment. And he wasn’t thinking clearly. He watched her take two steps (leaving Cassidy standing there) before he quickly made his way to her, grabbing onto her elbow. “Camille, wait- I’m-I’m sorry-“  

 Camille glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes not showing any emotion. “It’s fine.” Trying to break free from his grip. “Let go.” She ordered through gritted teeth. Sebastian knew better than to argue. He dropped his hand and she gave him a grim smile. “Thank you.” And without another word, walked away from him.

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

 “Thanks.” Camille muttered walking straight past Sebastian when he opened the front door of the apartment. Without another word, she began taking the hair pins out, a headache coming on. Letting her curls fall to her shoulders, she gently massaged her scalp, moaning softly, eyes shut. She opened them back up to find Sebastian watching. Quickly she moved the hand away, as they locked eyes. Maybe if she wasn’t so irritated with him, this could have led to another one of their little flirting sessions, but she was feeling humiliated from earlier, that not even his good looks could sweet talk him out of this. “I’m going to bed.” She announced.

 “Are you seriously going to ignore me?” Sebastian probed, the look from a few seconds ago disappearing, shutting the door behind him. “In my damn house?” Camille turned on her heels, giving him a blank stare. He pursed his lips together and blew air out of them. “I guess you are.” He concluded, flipping the light switch on. “Look-. “  He started.  “I’m sorry about earlier-.” His eyes filling with regret.

 She cleared her throat with a shake of her head. “And I said it was fine.” Trying to avoid eye contact so he couldn’t read her emotions.

 Sebastian snorted, shaking off his jacket and tossing it on the end of couch, mumbling in Romanian. Camille only scowled, wishing she understood what he just said. “Well at least you’re talking to me now.” He observed. She opened her mouth to protest, but swiftly pressed her lips together. Raising one eyebrow, Sebastian snorted again. “Oh yeah, everything is fine. You’ve barely said two words to me since we left the bar.” he accused, walking toward the kitchen.

 He was right. She hadn’t spoken a single word to him on the taxi cab ride. Mostly because she was too heated to say anything. Her anger and hurt was not only because of Sebastian, but also due to the conversation with David.

 Sebastian had every right to tell her to butt out of his life, it was just the menacing tone of how he had asked that bothered her. It was fairly obvious he was upset. Camille wasn’t sure if his anger was directed toward her. And if it was, what the hell had she done to deserve it? They had been having a fun evening- or at least she thought so- before he had gotten up to the bar. And maybe she was overacting. Her mind was foggy with David’s word; his confession of wanting to fix their relationship still lingering in her head.

 Plus she was not completely sober. So having serious relationship discussions while under the influence of red wine was not ideal. Yet, her heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the miniscule possibility of working things out with David. But then again maybe that was the wine talking. She shook her head slightly, as if doing so would somehow would make all of her jumble thoughts evaporate.

 “Camille?” His voice sounded so far away. Blinking a few times, her eyes focused back on Sebastian’s face. Her stomach clinching at the sight of him. Unsure of how he fit into the puzzle of her feelings. Because despite the anger she felt at the moment, Sebastian was important to her. “Camille?” he repeated, only softer that time.

 Running one hand through her curls, she mumbled. “I’m just gonna go to bed-. “  Maybe sleeping would help clear the mind.

 “Wait-. “  His voice gruff, feeling the familiar tingle down her spine when he touched her hand. “Can we just talk? Please?” 

Camille’s eyes fell to where their hands touched and she pulled it away. “What are you gonna say? That you’re sorry-“

 “Yes.” Sebastian interrupted, those blue orbs growing wide almost in she would forgive his moment of assholeness. 

 “Okay.” 

 Sebastian took a step closer, squinting in suspicion. Obviously not happy with her answer. “Now who’s being the -“

 “Asshole?” Camille supplied. 

 “Okay,” he started with a nod. “I deserve that.” She blinked slowly in response. Camille wasn’t going to make this easy. He frowned, running his fingers nervously through his hair when he recognized it too. “C’mon Cam. I don’t like this.” He paused. “I wasn’t upset with you....” 

 Raising a perfect eyebrow, not saying a word, she licked her lower lip. “Is this what you meant earlier?” She snipped despite trying to keep her tone even.

 Sebastian looked at her in confusion. “What?”

 “About seeing this side of you?” she prompted. The confused look in his eyes evaporated at the words. Instead those blue soft orbs Camille had come to know, slowly turned icy. Pretending the look didn’t bother, she tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. Fuck maybe she shouldn’t have said that. Because she had a feeling she’d just pushed the wrong button. Biting on her upper lip she shook her head. “Never mind.”

 “No. If you have something to say then say it.” The beautiful sculpted jaw clenching and unclenching. His face inches from hers now. The smell of mixed alcohol and cigarettes hitting her nostrils rapidly. “I just think it’s funny though…you not willing to let this drop when I heard you easily forgive someone else-“

 Camille’s eyes narrowed, his words making her stomach drop. “Wait-. “  She stammered, moving a hand up and taking a step back from him. “W-wait-what?” Her eyes searching his face for answers to something she already knew. But she wanted to hear him say it. Yet her anger wasn’t going to let her. “You were eavesdropping?” she growled. “Are you kidding me Sebastian? Who do you think you are?!” her voice escalating with every word. She sucked in a shaky livid breath. “You had no right to do that-I-I-.”  At the same time, taking clumsy step back, almost tripping on her heels.

 Sebastian was quick on the draw, gripping her by the waist before she fell backwards. “Take a breath.” His voice calm.

 She glared, shoving the arm that was around her waist down and off her. No! He wasn’t just going to make this go away with his charms and looks. He had been listening to her conversation with David. She had wanted to process it by herself before deciding to share it with anyone. Before deciding to share it with him. And he had violated her privacy. “Don’t.” she breathed when he took a step toward her. The alcohol was not helping the emotional roller coaster she was going through. Quite the opposite, it heighten it. And everything was still fresh, Sebastian’s and David’s words. And her own muddle thoughts.

 Was she exaggerating? It was possible. But her mind and heart were not on the same page at the moment. Their eyes locked and Camille saw the apprehension in his. Almost as if regretting what he just said. Well it was too late. There was no taking it back. Tears forming in the back of her eyelids, she looked away.

 Why the hell was she going to cry?

 She heard him sigh loudly. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Taking a step close again, and trying to make her meet his gaze. Camille sniffed, stubbornly not meeting his eyes. “I was looking for you....and when I found you -yeah....you were on the phone.” He finished lamely. 

 “And instead of leaving you decided to stand there and listen -“ 

 “You had him on speaker phon-!” Sebastian bellowed but stopped, clinching his mouth shut to keep from saying anything else, instead waving a hand in front her. After a few moments of silence, he let out a dejected sigh, rubbing the top of his head nervously. “I was looking for you.” He repeated slowly. “To talk.” He paused for a long moment. “And yea, maybe I could have... walked away-“ 

 “But you didn’t.” Camille snapped. 

 Sebastian scowled and repeated. “But I didn’t.” He crossed his arms, seemingly frustrated. “Why are trying to pick a fight?”

 Her jaw dropped at his accusation. “ME?” she yelped. “I wasn’t the one who was acting like a jerk.”

 “I told you I wasn’t upset with you-“

 The tension in the room whirling between them like a tornado funnel. Furiously shaking her head, Camille continued. “It was before Cassidy walked out into the terrace Sebastian. You were upset with me.” Rubbing her hands nervously up and down her own arms and shoulders. “You still are. I might not know you as long as Charles or Chace but I’ve been around long enough now to know when something is wrong or bothering you.”

 He threw his head back in an exasperated sigh. “I was looking for you, Camille. Because I wanted to talk.”

 “But you didn’t talk.” She indicted. “Instead you acted like a damn prick.” Sebastian’s eyes widen in surprise, and she could have sworn his lips twitched upward at the word. Any other time, Camille would have welcomed an innuendo comment, but not at the moment. And Sebastian picked up on it, because he kept his mouth shut. Her feelings were hurt and trying to joke out of it was only make it worse.

 He hastily reached out for her, tugging softly on the loose curls closest to her neck. “Draga-.”  His fingertips touching her skin now. 

 Her body shiver despite her mind wanting to shut it down. She gave a small shake of her head. “Don’t-Sebastian.” She warned. 

 “Don’t what?”  Stroking the skin behind her left ear

 “You can’t sweet talk your way out of this.”

 She heard him snort. She glared. 

 “You know, we act more of a couple than couples do.” 

 “Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t one then.” She bit back

 Sebastian glared at her remark. Okay, she could have been a bit nicer with her response. Clearing his throat. “You’re right. It’s a good thing we aren’t.” The tone of his voice icy, his hand dropping from her. Great, neither one was saying or doing anything right tonight. 

 Sebastian’s mouth twitched in annoyance, licking his bottom lip. “You know what? You’re right, bed sounds like a good idea.” It was obvious her words had stung. He took a step back. 

 It was her turn to reach out for him. “Wait.” She said with a sigh. “You said you were looking for me.” She stated softly. Despite the feeling of anger towards him at the moment, she still cared. And she wanted to know he was okay. Something had obviously happened between the time he was at the bar to the time he walked outside. Then it dawned on her. “What happened with Cassidy?” He gave her a dubious look. “Oh right.” She mumbled. 

 This is why they were having this whole fight/argument about. Camille not minding her own business.

 Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows and said dejectedly. “Think whatever you want Camille. I already said I was sorry. I mean, you’re the one letting other people off the hook over worse things.”

 Camille’s jaw dropped at his words. “I’m sorry not all of us can be perfect like you.” She snarled. “I’m sorry I can’t just snap my fingers and make all these feelings disappear.” Her voice breaking. She was projecting her emotions. That was fairly obvious. “Unlike you, I can’t seem to push my feelings-.”

 “You want to know why I was looking for you?” he interjected, before Camille had the chance to continue. “The reason why I was so upset? Why I’m still so pissed off?” He snarled. Camille jumped slightly at the tone of his voice, pressing her lips together to keep from speaking. She could have snapped and told him to fuck off but the look in his eyes stopped her. Why? Because they mirrored her own feelings of confusion, hurt, anger and sadness. And just like hers, they were caused by someone else. Sebastian continued. “Cass let Leighton know about tonight. It shouldn’t fucking matter, she is free to go wherever the hell she wants, but Cassidy’s brilliant plan was to get us together- for what? I don’t fucking know.”

 Camille watched him, unsure if she should speak. He clearly needed to vent his frustrations of seeing his ex-girlfriend. Before she could stop herself.  “You didn’t have to talk that way to her.” Referring to Cassidy, then bit her lower lip. Maybe she did need to learn how to stay out of other people’s business.

 “I know.” Sebastian mumbled, running his fingers through his short hair, before locking eyes with her. And there he was again- the gentle Sebastian. The one she had come to know and care for in the last months. The one who always made her laugh, and feel safe and good about herself.

 “What did she do?” Camille found herself asking. 

 “It doesn’t matter.” He said with a shake of his head.

 Camille groaned in frustration. “Fine, kept shutting me out.”

 He glowered. “You have your own things to deal with-.”

 “What are you? 12 years old? Besides you were the one that told me there was no shame in talking to him.” She reminded.

 “You’re right. I did say that.”

 Camille narrowed her eyes, knowing exactly what he doing, trying to deflect. “You wanted to talk. That’s why you came looking for me right?” she paused. “Then talk to me.” Almost pleading.  

 Pursing his lips together, Sebastian shut his eyes, as if debating with himself about whether he wanted to share or not. Opening his eyes again, he spoke. “I found out from mutual friends…that she was not being faithful while we were together.”

 Her stomach dropped at the words. They were all too familiar. Quickly, things started to make sense now. Why he had been so hesitant to talk about Leighton. Why he wouldn’t take her calls. Her face must have held a look of shock, because he smiled despite everything. “Why are you smiling?”

 “Because- this is why I hadn’t said anything.” Walking toward the living room, plopping himself down on the couch. “The look on your face. I didn’t want to make you feel-.”

 She felt a bubble of annoyance hit her stomach. “I hate when people tell me how to feel.” She warned with a raised eyebrow. “Why don’t you let me be the one to decide that?” Following his lead, she made her way toward the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch. “It didn’t cross your mind that maybe I would be able to relate?” 

 “It did.”

 “You could have talked to me-.”

 “And I told you I wasn’t ready.” He gripped. “Besides you have your own shit to deal with...” 

 Maybe it was the fatigue of the last few days, combine with the events from earlier in the evening, plus their own feelings but Camille felt the very little self-control and reserve evaporate her body. “Which you’re shaming me for.” She snipped back, standing up, nervously playing the shoulder straps of her dress.

 He gritted his teeth. “You’re a grown woman Camille. And we both know it’s not what I’m trying to do. Don’t try and make this into something it’s not.” Getting up from the couch, and walking around it to get to her. "I just don't want you getting hurt. Again." he confessed. He was standing in front of her now. 

Giving him a sad smile, she said. “It’s too late for that.” He opened his mouth, but she waved a hand dismissively. “This isn’t about me anyway.” And it wasn’t. Yes there was shit she was dealing with but it didn’t make her blind to others problems. Especially Sebastian. He snorted taking a step back. “What?” She asked. 

“This isn’t something that can be fixed.” 

“I know that. I’m not trying to.” She argued, getting aggravated with him again. “I just thought maybe you could use someone to talk to.” Slipping her heels off, she bend down to pick them up. “Goodnight.” She simply stated, gripping the straps of the heels, and turning in the direction of bedroom hall. Camille wasn’t going to argue anymore.

 “That’s it?” Sebastian called after her.

 “Yep.” Camille said over her shoulder. She was a few feet from the guest bedroom door when she felt a hand grasp her wrist. Without looking at him, she said. “I’m exhausted Sebastian. And we just keep going around in circles with this conversation, so I’m going to bed.” Rubbing her temple with the palm of her free hand. “I’m not trying to force you tell me how you’re feeling, it’s not my place- you’re right. But it doesn’t mean you have to be dick about it.”

 He tighten the grip on her. “Camille.” He pleaded, but she refused to make eye contact. He released her hand and she let out a sigh of relief, but it quickly turned into a gasp of surprise when she felt Sebastian slip around her, standing between the bedroom door and her. She shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Look at me.” He ordered gently.

 Camille’s eyes fluttered open, a small frown on her lips. He had one hand gripping on to the door handle, while his eyes searched her face. After what seemed like an eternity, Sebastian whispered. “This isn’t easy.” At those words, Camille finally met his gaze in curiosity. He didn’t have to elaborate, Camille knew exactly what he meant, but it still didn’t get him off the hook. He inched closer. He was so much taller that he hovered over Camille, those blue eyes dropping to her lips. Tilting his head to one side as if deciding what to say next.

 The way he was eyeing her at the moment made her break the gaze. “Sebastian…” she started, trying to push past him to get into the room.

 “Cam-.”

 She furiously shook her head. “No, Sebastian.” Giving him a small shove that made him drop his hand from the door knob. The anger from earlier resurfacing. “I’m done.” Trying to not be distracted by those long eyelashes.

 “You’re the one that wanted me to talk about it!” Pointing to himself in disbelief. “I can’t fucking win with you tonight!” he mumbled.

 At those worse, Camille felt every inch of her body heat up, but she wasn’t going to argue. Instead, she reached behind him and gripped on to the door knob, twisting and pushing the door open behind him. His jaw dropped in surprise at how quickly she pushed past him, into the spare room. “You’re right, you can’t. So let’s just stop okay?”

 “You don’t mean that.”  But Camille was already closing the door in his face.