#but it's just too ordinary. she sounds like they just picked out a random teenage girl to play her. like they just went to some school and

[incompleteloveletters]

the danish dub of monster high freaky fusion goes so hard

[pwarkluv]

❝ slow dancing in the dark ❞ - psj

park jisung x reader | angst, fluff | 1.5k words

WARNINGS | lowercase is intended, angst because duhh, fluffy ending because it’s jisung and i don’t think i could take a sad ending with him, friends to lovers au (my fav as you can tell), high school au, non-idol au, not a lot of dialogue in the first half oops, maybe like one curse word(??), this is gonna be trash so uh skrrt skrrt

SUMMARY | when they’ve both been in love with each other for years, but are too dense to realize it (aka your typical f2l’s trope).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by “slow dancing in the dark” by joji as you can tell by the title of this oneshot hehe :P anyways another favorite song of mine! i wanted a happy ending jisung because i see so many sad ending with him fhakldjfh also (i tried to be) super angsty because teenage love and overthinking always gets me in my feels~

you’ve never failed to make jisung’s heart race, even as a kid.

before he met you, jisung was your typical seven year old boy who avoided girls because he thought they had the cooties. he had that weird bowl cut every asian dude had growing up with slinky arms and a skinny frame. 

but you? you were beyond ordinary. 

your pigtails were held up by hello kitty hair ties, the charms dingling whenever you moved. you had a few front teeth missing, but that didn’t stop you from smiling ear to ear when you first met jisung. the colorful pastel colors you wore all the more attracted him to you. 

never has he ever seen such a bright and bubbly girl. all the other girls in the area were like him, avoiding the boys because of their “cooties”. they were stuck up and always thought they were better than him. 

but from the moment you two met, you became an exception. the only girl jisung liked being around. 

now that you two are seventeen, things have changed a bit. jisung wasn’t up to your ears anymore and he sure as hell doesn’t have a bowl cut. you outgrew your pigtails and have teeth in the front of your mouth. but the biggest change? jisung was in love with you.

well sure he’s always loved you. he loved the way your charms in your hair would jingle whenever you two played hopscotch, he loved how you always tried to put his hair up into a bun with your special hair ties, and he loved just being around you.

but this kind of love? the one he’s feeling now? it was like anything and everything you did made his heart race and his smile come out. so of course hearing you rant about this “really cute guy��� who suddenly started talking to you in school made his heart hurt.

you were laying on jisung’s chest, him playing with your hair as the movie in front of you two played in his room. you didn’t know how but you were thankful the boy you were laying on couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. 

you’ve always been in love with jisung. from the moment you two met you were drawn to his aura, how he lowkey hated you and thought you had a disease. you’ve watched him grow (literally) and become such an amazing person. just the thought of it made your heart swell.

but you knew he didn’t like you. there was no way. not when he seemed so comfortable with the girl that sits in front of him in science. 

so you’ve decided you were gonna try and move on from him and look at other boys. you realized how cliche it was, falling in love with your best friend. there was no way it was gonna work anyways, not if jisung didn’t like you back. so you went for one of his friends, sungchan. he’s tall, kinda, charming, and everything you could ever want. but he’s not jisung.

❝ give me reasons we should be complete ❞

jisung didn’t know how to respond when you first mentioned sungchan. he should be happy for you right? you two were just friends and in no way did he have any claim towards you. if you liked him you should go for him, right?

wrong. his hand faltered a bit as he continued to stroke his fingers through your hair, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. suddenly he felt like he wanted to cry, not noticing how half-hearted you sound talking about the boy. 

❝ you should be with him, i can’t complete ❞

suddenly his mind went to more sadder things. jisung thought about the height difference between sungchan and him, wishing he was just a little bit taller for you. how cool and handsome sungchan was, no wonder you were falling for him. he’s more athletic and that’s probably why you liked that boy and not him. 

-

prom night. your second to last prom before you and jisung finished high school. you two decided to go together “as friends”, the thoughts of him not wanting to actually be your date dampening your mood at times. but you were here to have fun, whether jisung saw you like that or not.

the two of you were partying, dancing along to the songs being played on the speakers.

“y/n?” a voice called out, causing the both of you to turn. jisung frowned looking at the boy in front of him. there he was, the boy he’s hated for the past two months.

you froze, not knowing why sungchan was in front of you.

“um, hi sungchannie.” you shyly smiled, a little awkward at the random intrusion. jisung knew you felt a little awkward and protectively wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“hey.” jisung replied, trying to act cool. you stifled a laugh at jisung’s sudden mood change before clearing your throat.

“can i talk to you for a bit?” sungchan asked, and jisung could have cried then and there. 

❝ you looked at me like I was someone else, oh well ❞

“you like jisung don’t you?” sungchan said, watching as your eyes strayed to the tall brown haired boy you came with. you flushed, getting caught.

“n-no i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you stuttered, denying the obvious. the boy laughed, ruffling your hair a bit.

“don’t stress about it y/n, you don’t look at anyone else the same way you look at jisung. it’s kinda cute.” he smiled, making you a little less tense. 

“but he doesn’t like me.” you replied, looking down at the floor as an attempt to not cry. sungchan laughed, not believing what you’ve just said.

“you’re an oblivious one aren’t you?” sungchan muttered under his breath before holding you close, keeping an eye out for the boy watching him like a hawk. “confess to him, i promise you it won’t be bad.” he whispered before pushing you towards jisung.

❝ can’t you see ❞

“so what’d he say?” jisung asked, suddenly becoming serious. he saw the way sungchan pulled you close and his fists tightened in anger. he was the only one who could do that to you. but then he realized, he’s really not. 

jisung once again realized that you weren’t his and probably never will be. 

“o-or well you don’t have to tell me.” he stuttered aftering noticing how possessive his tone was. she’s not yours she’s not yours, jisung chanted to himself, watching as your face flickered to one of unsureness. 

goddammit why can’t you see i’m in love with you, the both of you thought in unison, jisung waiting for your response. 

“dance with me.” you said, pulling jisung away to a secluded area knowing what you should do. though you didn’t answer him, who was he to decline such a beautiful lady.

❝ i don’t wanna slow dance, in the dark ❞

it was like that ending scene from twilight, a mini deck covered in fairy lights and flowers. the lights were dimmed down a bit as a soft tune played, your head on jisung’s shoulder as the two of you slowly danced to the song. 

you realized that if you told him you loved him, it could ruin everything you two had. but you knew you couldn’t keep it a secret, you knew you couldn’t keep your emotions in the dark.

“what’s on your mind princess?” jisung asked, breaking the silence. he knew how tense you were just from the way you walked back to him after sungchan. and when you didn’t answer his question, well of course jisung was a little worried. 

your heart raced at the nickname. he started calling you that after the two of you played kingdom, him being your knight in shining armor while you were his princess. it stuck, jisung liking the way it felt calling you that. 

“i don’t wanna pretend anymore, sung.” you sighed, picking your head up from his shoulders. you pushed yourself away slightly, a small space between the two of you as you prepared for heartbreak. the boy gave you a confused look, not understanding what you were trying to get at. 

❝ dark ❞

“i’ve always loved you, as a kid and even until now.” you confessed, eyes trained onto the floor. jisung froze.

there was no way you actually felt the same, did you?

“w-well i know you don’t like me back and i know this changes things so much and i’m so sorry-”

jisung’s lips on yours was what shut you up. his hand snaked behind your waist, the other on the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss.

“shut up will you?” he mumbled into the kiss, finally relishing the feeling of your softness of his. your cherry lip balm was addicting and he couldn’t wait to taste it again.  

you had no clue what was going on at all, his lips on yours making your mind go hazy. as you two pulled away to catch your breaths you whispered into the air.

“so does this mean you love me too?”

“are you dumb or do i need to kiss you senseless again?”

“i mean that last option seems good.”

[rhub4rb]

Warmth

Day 6: Meeting the Justice League

@biodad-bruce-month

AO3

-_-_-_-

"You," Marinette said, picking up one of her fries and throwing it at Jason. "are a terrible influence."

"I take honor in that statement," Jason said with a grin, causing Marinette to roll her eyes.

After driving around, doing light vandalism on some abandoned buildings, Jason had taken her to a diner for something to eat. Marinette knew that what they did was less than legal, and she could already hear Tikki scolding her in the back of her mind, but quite honestly, it felt good to do something... not good.

It didn't mean that this was a new hobby for Marinette, she wasn't going to go out every night to vandalize random buildings, but there was something so liberating about doing it with Jason.

Marinette was sure Jason knew this too, that there was a bigger reason as to why he brought her out here, to a random diner in the middle of the night, after having run around doing dumb teenager stuff.

The universe seemed to agree with her as well, as Jason's carefree grin soon became something more serious.

"There's a lot of things that Bruce is trying to keep from you," Jason started, his eyes boring into Marinette's own. "I think it's bullshit and that you can make your own choices, but I also know that not all of it is for me to say and reveal, I just want you to be aware that-"

"I am," Marinette said, cutting Jason off. "I've known for... some time now. But, just like you said, there are some things that just aren't for me to reveal.

"Besides, I know I'm different from you, from Damian and Dick and Tim. I've grown up in a radically different reality from the rest of you, so I've never really expected Bruce to treat me the same way he treated you, not that it made it hurt any less.

"It just- it makes it harder for me to see this as a family, you know?" Marinette said, giving Jason a wry grin. "Not that I don't appreciate this. I haven't felt this free in a while, even before I got taken in by Bruce."

Jason blinked at her, mouth gaping in surprise as he took it all in. He hadn't exactly expected her to already know.

"Still, maybe I should be a bit offended but-"

Marinette was cut off by the sound of shattering glass, the few other occupants running screaming for the door as Two-Face and some of his goons came in through the shattered glass. Jason was quick to take a stance in front of Marinette, protective, but it did little as Two-Face's goons were quick to capture the running civilians.

Inwardly, Marinette cursed herself. She had dazed and fatigued both Bruce and Damian. She doubted either of them would be showing up to help them, at least not without being notified somehow.

Taking a breath, Marinette made sure to check that everyone's attention was on something other than her, as Two-Face made his speech, fate and duality and all that. If it weren't for the tight situation, Marinette didn't doubt that something he'd say would resonate with her.

She knew there was no time for that, however, and as she made it inside the freezer of the diner without getting caught, she called for her transformation.

-

This was not how Jason had planned this little outing to go. H wanted to relieve Marinette of the no doubt suffocating room she had been stuck in, while also having a genuinely serious conversation with her.

Sure, he did end up doing that, but he hadn't accounted for her already knowing about the whole vigilante thing, or for Two-Face to show up either. If Jason had known, he might have been a little more prepared.

"It seems today just isn't your lucky day," Two-Face said, getting a good look at the people in the diner. "So how about we flip a coin? Clean side and I let one of you go," he said, showing off his infamous silver dollar. "Scarred, and one of you gets shot."

Jason's eyes followed the coin in the air, holding his breath, but before Two-Face was able to get his coin back in his hands, a blue fan flew through the air, hitting the coin, before going back, into the hands of a blue-skinned girl.

Dressed in the colors of a peacock, in what Jason could only assume was clothing inspired by Chinese fashion, the girl held two fans in her hands, both resembling the plumes of a peacock.

"See, I've met Lady Luck, and I highly doubt she appreciates what you're doing here tonight."

Two-Face scowled, making quick eye contact with his goons, and so, they started shooting for the girl.

She seemed unfazed by this however, swinging and twisting her fans in a way that shielded her from the bullets, in what could only be described as a graceful dance, before she abruptly shut one of her fans and threw it at one of the goons, hitting him in the throat with the blunt end. She was quick to run to it, grabbing the fan before there was a chance for her to be overpowered by the other goon and Two-Face.

The blue girl threw her open fan at the other goon, hitting his hand and making him drop his gun, catching the fan once again as it flew through the air.

With surprising speed, she got close to Two-Face, flashing both fans in front of his gaze, his eyes locked at the countless eyes of the feathers, leaving him in what Jason could only describe as a daze. Blue used Two-Face's daze against him, circle kicking him in the chest and sending him flying, grunting in pain as he hit the wall.

Without a moment's hesitation, she turned around and threw a now closed fan into the throat of the other goon, just like she had with the first one.

Silence filled the diner as she quietly retrieved her second fan, this time without a hurry.

Jason was tense, looking at the seemingly call girl, before looking behind him to check on Marinette, only to find her gone, his gaze quickly snapping to that of Blue.

No way.

"You guys wouldn't happen to have any rope, would you? I didn't exactly come prepared," the girl said, grinning sheepishly.

Slowly, one by one, the people in the diner started to clap, Blue's eyes widening at the sudden applause.

-

"They may not have a rope, but I do."

Marinette grew tense at the voice and quickly turned around to see none other than Batman standing before her.

That was not good.

He must have heard about what happened then, which was both good and bad. Good, because that obviously meant he was a good vigilante, that didn't take a break, even if his mind demanded it. Bad because he definitely knew she was the one who made his mind demand said break.

"Well then, it seems that I am not needed anymore, I think I'll just-"

"You're coming with me," he cut her off, grabbing her by the shoulder as she tried to get around him.

"Yeah, totally, that was exactly what I was gonna say, one-hundred percent, was not gonna leave."

Marinette could hear the sound of Jason face-palming and by the look on Batman's face, she could tell he wasn't all that impressed either.

After Two-Face and his goons were apprehended and taken away, Marinette, still transformed, was dragged by Batman to some sort of portal thing (Marinette had no idea) and suddenly, she was in space and placed in a holding cell. Hooray.

"Why exactly am I here?" Marinette asked, although she had a pretty good hunch.

"You attack both Robin and I, before going off to fight Two-Face. For all I know, the fight with Two-Face was staged and you work with him."

"Okay..." Marinette said. "That doesn't explain why I am in space, rather than in Gotham. I would also like to remind you that I didn't do anything to you and Robin other than defend myself."

"I need to keep you in a place where you can't use your powers to get out," Batman said simply, ignoring the other half of her statement. "I also need one of our magic users to analyze you."

"Listen, I haven't done anything wrong, there is absolutely no reason for me to be held here."

But Batman didn't reply, simply giving her a glance, before leaving the holding cells.

Great. Just great

-

"So, Batman, mind explaining why there's a kid in the holding cells?" Superman asked, looking at the monitors.

"I need Zatanna's help with figuring out her abilities. I don't think she's any ordinary meta," Batman replied gruffly.

"That still doesn't explain the whole kid in a holding cell thing," Superman said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"She was running around Gotham and did something to Robin and I that hade us unable to continue patrol, and then later fought Two-Face and his goons. I don't trust her."

Silence filled in between the two of them, before Superman let out a sigh.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," Superman said. "For all we know, this could all be a big misunderstanding," Superman tried to reason.

"You're weak against magic, Boyscout," Batman said, stopping Superman before he could leave. "We need to wait for Zatanna."

"She's just a kid Bru-"

The door to the monitor room opened, revealing a stressed looking Zatanna and a worried Wonder Woman. Batman didn't bother looking at either of them as he walked past them, knowing they would follow him without a word, though Diana was protesting vocally during the short trip to the holding cells.

As they got closer to the cell, a beeping sound could be heard, causing Batman and the rest to run to the cell, just in time to see an almost blinding light fill the cell before going away, revealing none other but his daughter.

She looked at them, at him, wide-eyed, shuffling herself closer to a corner.

"I-I can explain-" Marinette started, but was cut off by Diana.

"A miraculous holder," Diana said, stunned, before turning to glare at Bruce. "Why would you put a miraculous holder in a holding cell!" She turned her gaze back to Marinette, her eyes softening slightly, before she went and unlocked the cell. "Someone like her deserves respect, not a cell."

Marinette, however, didn't go to the unlocked door, her eyes instead remaining trained on all of them.

"I- I want to go home," Marinette said quietly. "I was with my brother, I need to make sure he's okay."

Marinette was looking directly at Bruce, he knew that. He had seen Jason at the diner earlier too. He just didn't know the blu-skinned girl was Marinette.

Diana looked between Bruce and Marinette, seeming to pick up on the tension, before nodding at the young girl.

"Of course, I'll help you get back to Gotham-"

"I'll do it," Batman said, voice and shoulders tense.

Superman didn't seem to be on board with the idea.

"I don't think that-"

"It's okay," Marinette reassured the caped Boyscout. "I won't mind."

Marinette quietly walked out of her cell and up to the side of Batman, their contrast quite fascinating to the other League members, as the two shuffled out of the cell holding area, the door closing behind them.

"What the actual fuck," Zatanna said.

-_-_-_-

@all-mights-asscheeks @thatonecroc @mom-geans @skyel0ve @maribat-is-lifeblood @pawsitivelymiraculous @jessigurl-design @smolplantmum

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week - 25

Was 1973 the greatest year in cinema?

Besides the ones below, 1973 was also the year of The Holy Mountain, Day for Night, Mean Streets, Badlands, La Planete Sauvage, Paper Moon, Scenes from a Marriage, Amarcord, Oh Lucky Man, American Graffiti, Enter the Dragon, The Sting, The Exorcist...

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: The Spirit Of The Beehive (El espíritu de la colmena) - one of the most beautiful Spanish films of all time.

It’s 1940, and six-year-old Anna lives with her family in an isolated Castilian village. A mobile cinema truck bring Frankenstein to the village.

Quiet, symbolic and deeply moving.

The trailer.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: The Last Detail, written by Robert Towne, with Jack Nicholson at his peak and with cameos by Gilda Radner, Nancy Allen and Carol Kane. 9/10

“Welcome to the wonderful world of pussy, kid..”

Going to watch the few other Hal Ashby films again.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: Critically-acclaimed Robert Altman’s anachronistic neo-noir The Long Goodbye, with chain smoking Elliott Gould as unconvincing and bumbling Philip Marlowe.

Also, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s first movie appearance.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973! I don’t know why I haven’t revisited Don’t Look Now for at least 15 years: I always considered it to be Nicolas Roeg’s best film, but it’s actually one of the greatest films I ever saw! Cinematically, emotionally, with extraordinary sound editing (The first 8 min.! The dressing / undressing scene!)..

With Renato Scarpa as the police inspector: ”AH! MIS-ter BAX-ter!”

Simply perfect!

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: In La Grande Bouffe four friends, Marcello, Ugo, Michel and Philippe (played by Marcello Mastroianni, Ugo Tognazzi, Michel Piccoli, Philippe Noiret) decide to binge-eat themselves to death on fine cuisine. A decadent and perverted food and sex orgy, full of excess and anarchy that doesn’t end until the last one shits himself to death. But why?

Bon appétit!

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: Honest cop and whistleblower Serpico fights obsessively against systemic corruption at the New York Police Department.

With Who’s Who of the time in small parts: Hank Garrett, ��The Mailman’ from ‘Three days of the Condor’, Jack Kehoe, Midnight Run’s ‘Jerry’, James Tolkan as Steiger, M. Emmet Walsh, F. Murray Abraham, John Randolph, Allan Rich ...

✳️✳️✳️ 1973 / First watch - The Wicker Man, a British folk horror number about a Christian copper vs. a Scottish village of pagan heathens. With younger Christopher Lee in a hippie drag.

It had a unique way of combing folk songs, sung by the characters, nearly like a strange musical.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: Westworld, the robots malfunction and revolt at a futuristic, adult-themed amusement park. Yul Brynner as the original Terminator. 3/10.

✴️                  

Queen of Hearts, a complex erotic drama by Danish-Egyptian director May el-Toukhy. An illicit affair between gorgeous Trine Dyrholm and her stepson Gustav Lindh (From Riders of Justice!). Shockingly explicit sex and unexpected third act reverse expectations and sympathies.

Best film of the week!

✴️            

Jackie Chan’s 1985 Police Story, a “broadly” choreographed slapstick / martial arts film. With young and chubby-faced Maggie Cheung, before she became world-class gorgeous.

✴️           

This isn't a rental car - it's privately owned.

How come I’ve never seen David Byrne’s True Stories before? Written by Ned Ryerson himself. Kooky characters in small town Vernon, TX. inspired by actual supermarket tabloid stories. Like Nashville for the 80′s..

✴️                

Crimes and Misdemeanors, a classic Woody Allen nihilist drama with a dual storyline that still holds its power.

“The eyes of God are always watching us” .

Toddler Dylan Farrow appears in a cameo at the wedding, and a distinct sub-plot has Allen wooing his teenage niece by taking her to see old movies and buying her art books... So, yuck to that part.

✴️              

“It’s good to be king.”

Mel Brooks’ 40 year old class-conscience History of the world, Part 1 - narrated by Orson Welles, with cameos by John Hurt as Jesus and Hugh Hefner, who also supplied the harem of vestal virgins. While ‘The Meaning of Life’ which came 2 years later was about philosophy, this was about history.

But everybody had such pearly white teeth.

✴️                     

I started watching Jojo Rabbit 3 times before I could finish this pretentious Holocaust comedy of revisionist Nazi-chic cuteness. A ten-year-old Hitler Youth boy finds out that his mother, Scarlett Johansson, is hiding a Jewish girl in their attic. Kitschy, cowardly and lazy. This is not ‘The Great Dictator’ or ‘The Producers’, or even ‘Look who’s back’. It’s Hitler 101 explained to 10 year olds who never heard of him.

I wonder how they got the rights to The Beatles and Bowie songs.

Also, Hitler was not a smoker. 2/10. (Photo above)

✴️                 

Picked up a random Apple’s TV series, Home before dark, about a 9 year old girl playing a journalist. I tried to get into it, and saw 2.5 episodes, but it was so ordinary, and soul-less, and full of teenager flick cliches, that I had to quit. Even the Jason Robards quotes from ‘All the President’s Men’ couldn’t help it. PASS!

✴️               

✳️✳️✳️ Woodward and Bernstein X 2

So, prompted by the series above, I watched All the President's Men again (for the 10? time). What a masterful film! Romancing investigative journalism never looked so good.

With a script by William Goldman, cinematography by Gordon Willis, and Robert Walden playing Donald Segretti.

The sparse score by Michael Small, who was Pakula’s go-to composer (and which I already mentioned here earlier)! Compared to his Parallax View theme.

True fact: Frank Wills, the black security guard who discovered the break-in, was fired without explanation a few days later. He was out of work for three years until he played himself (one day's work) in this film, and never had a full-time job again, until his death in 2000, at the age of 52.  

✳️✳️✳️ Also, All the President's Men Revisited, a 2012 documentary featuring all the players, and just before Trump, so they all could comfortably predict that Watergate will happen again, but none of them realized how terribly soon it will be.

✴️          

The company Men is about 3 senior executives trying to survive during the financial crisis of 2010 after getting fired, downsized, becoming redundant.

The Corporate-speak sounded fake, and Ben Affleck is not a good actor, so it wasn’t too engaging. 3/10

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

[ofheroesandvillains]

Do Better 2 - Tony Stark

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Words: 3.7k Warnings: None? Some angst - tried to make this one a little happier than the last though! It’s a rollercoaster. Summary: I was very surprised that people liked the first part as much as they did, and I got a few requests to show how Tony and Mom met, and Tony and Kid’s relationship a few months later. Hope it isn’t trash, if it is, let me know!

Going to be honest, I’m in a big writing slump. I feel like everything I write is coming out wrong and it sucks. Hoping this one is alright, but I did do most of it on a good-ish day. Thank you so much for being patient, I hope everyone is doing well!

(gif not mine!)

There were times in his life where Tony really had to admit that he’d be nothing without Pepper Potts. She was the type of person who’d do her job and do it well regardless of the circumstances. Hell, most of the time she’d do his job too. But these were the early days, long before he’d realised her importance, and even longer before he’d realised his own feelings for her.

She’d only just started working for him and somehow she had already managed to drag him out of his workshop and into his worst nightmare. He’d never liked the theatre and he didn’t care much for dancing either. He wasn’t the type to sit still for hours on end, and he never quite understood how his mother managed to persuade his stone-cold father to always go with her. 

Howard probably just liked having an excuse to stay as far away from him as possible, but that didn’t matter anymore.

What did matter was that it had been over an hour and there was absolutely nothing that could keep him in his seat any longer. Pepper be damned, he’d kiss ass another time and in another place - preferably one with an open bar. 

Just as he started easing himself out of his seat, he saw her. Graceful, beautiful…entrancing. They all were, and if you asked him what was so special about her in particular, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. There was just something different about her. It could have been luck, or fate, or maybe even just random chance, but something had brought them together that night.

Maybe, he thought…maybe he could stick around a little longer.

--------- 

What would later become the most important day of his life, ended much like any other.

“Y’know…you’re not half bad.”

She glanced over her shoulder. If his presence surprised her, she didn’t show it. Plenty of celebrities hung around to meet the performers after a show. Plenty of press, too. 

“Oh? Tony Stark: closet choreographer.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she returned to packing her bag. “They left that one out of the tabloids.”

“We all make mistakes,” he shrugged. “Speaking of, how ‘bout a drink?”

She turned around, brows arched high.

“With you?”

“Preferably. I mean-“

“No.”

His dark lashes fluttered. “No…?”

She laughed at his wide-eyed look. 

“I’m starving. If dinner’s on the table then you’re on, otherwise…get out of my way, Mr Stark.”

His mouth abruptly shut and he looked far too pleased with himself. 

“Dinner it is. Dessert’s on me, literally, figuratively…any way you want.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. 

“Mr Stark! A photo for the Times?”

“Big smiles,” he murmured in her ear, an arm looping around her waist with the speed of an experienced red carpet walker. She laughed at the thought, her eyes scrunching shut before the flash could blind her. 

Pepper would remember it as the day he almost cost them a new partnership, and the tabloids would immortalise it as ‘Playboy’ Tony Stark’s latest conquest. But Tony, well, he remembered it for what it was. The day his greatest creation was unknowingly conceived.

---------

“You got your lunch?”

“Yep. Pepper packed it.”

“Homework?”

“It’s all there, dad.” 

Tony didn’t fail to notice her amusement as he pulled up to the school entrance. He didn’t always have the time to take her himself, but this was a special occasion. And, if he was being honest with himself, he kinda enjoyed it. Driving his kid to school…there was something extraordinarily ordinary about it, and he liked it. 

The car door slammed shut and she made her way around to his window.

“Are you going to be home when I get out?” There was a hopeful spark in her eyes.

“Not today.” The spark fizzled out. “I’m picking you up myself, birthday girl.”

She rolled her eyes but there was genuine happiness in her smile.

“See ya later, dad.”

He smiled at the spring in her step when she turned to head inside, and he just couldn’t help himself. 

“Have a good day, kiddo! Love you!”

She almost jumped at the sudden and unnecessarily loud shout - and she wasn’t the only one. Her eyes flickered over the students openly gawking at him, and Tony chuckled at the scowl she sent his way. Seeing Tony Stark was like seeing a unicorn in the wild, and whispers were already buzzing around her. 

“You let your old man know if the other kids are mean to you!” 

“Dad.”

Teenagers, Tony thought, so self-conscious. 

“Alright, alright. Get out of here.”

He watched her rush to the front door, pointedly ignoring the stares that followed her. In time, she’d gotten used to them, as much as he wished she didn’t have to. 

---------

School became hectic as soon as the announcement was made. Tony Stark’s long-lost daughter had returned to him, and she was attending Midtown High. Being the ‘new kid’ was bad enough, she thought, but being the famous new kid was chaos. 

She thought a sense of pride would come with the announcement - and it certainly had - but what was it they said about grass being greener on the other side? She quickly realised that her dad hadn’t really been ashamed of her...he’d been trying to protect her. From the cameras, from the fame, from everything he thought ruined him. 

The other kids were nice to her, of course they were. But she went about her business as if nothing had changed. In a way, nothing had. She’d been a Stark from the beginning, but it would be a lie to say that her newfound popularity wasn’t getting on her nerves.

She was almost envious of Parker all over again, this time for his anonymity. She didn’t realise how much she would miss just being another face in class, another mundane student. Now there was a title attached to her that she’d never be able to shake. Tony Stark’s daughter. Ironman’s daughter. 

At least Parker didn’t have to deal with Flash hounding him each day about the company and ‘what’s it like to have Tony Stark as a father?’ And ‘are you an Avenger by default?’ And ‘who’s stronger, Thor or Captain America?’ 

But if there was one good thing that came of it, it was that Peter now had a new and entirely unexpected ally.

---------

“Hey, Parker? Parker!”

Peter shoved his textbooks into his backpack and threw it over his shoulder with a sigh. Ned gave him a sympathetic glance, but they both knew it was best to just humour Flash in these moments. And that’s exactly what Peter did when he finally turned around, anxiously clutching the strap of his bag.

“You got a date for Lucy’s party this weekend?” asked Flash.

“I’m uh, I’m not going.”

Flash’s lips curled in triumph. “What’s the matter, Parker? Not cool enough for an invite?”

“No, he’s just hanging out with Tony Stark this weekend instead,” Ned blurted out, earning a sharp glare from his best friend. 

“Dude,” Peter hissed under his breath. 

He knew Ned meant well. In his own way, Ned was trying to stand up for him, but these things always had a tendency to back-fire on them.

Flash scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m going caroling with Hulk this year.”

By now a small crowd had gathered, students bustling to their lockers in preparation for their next class. A few of them watched the exchange and laughed. It was nothing new, but they had nothing better to do.

“Just admit it, Parker,” Flash drawled. “You’re too much of a loser to-”

“Hey, Peter. You still coming over for brunch this weekend? Dad was wondering.”

The whole hall came to a sudden stop and Peter’s eyes widened along with Flash’s. Where Flash went out of his way to bother him, she did all she could to avoid him. There were times where he wondered just what he’d done to make her dislike him, and he even considered asking Mr Stark. But he thought better of it when he realised just how stupid that idea sounded. 

Flash’s eyes flickered between them, his mouth open in surprise. The rest of the student body was staring at Peter, waiting for some kind of answer. Ned gave him a not-so-subtle nudge and the silence was shattered.

“Y-yeah. Uh-huh. Definitely, this- this weekend. The brunch…” He nodded so fast he’d put a bobblehead to shame.

Another nudge from Ned had him clearing his throat.

“I’ll be there,” he smiled, all nerves and gratitude.

And she flashed him a signature Stark smile in return, full of hidden mischief and a touch of reassurance. He reminded himself to breathe.

“Great. Feel free to come along if you’re not busy, Ned.”

Ned’s brows shot up and he shared a disbelieving smile with Peter. The crowd in the hallway parted for her like the Red Sea and all anyone could do was watch as she marched away without a second glance. Maybe, just maybe, her newfound fame wasn’t all bad. 

---------

“Can I take it off yet?”

“No.”

“But-“

“Nope.”

“Dad.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Fine,” she huffed, arms crossed. 

She had no doubt that beyond the blindfold, her father looked all too pleased with himself. Let it be known that Tony Stark was excellent at planning surprises, because she had absolutely no idea where they were going, or if they were even still in New York. 

He’d been fretting about her for weeks leading up to this day, and now that it had arrived, she’d been showered with all the gifts she’d refused to let him buy for her throughout the year. But she wouldn’t deny him this one chance to spoil her. It was the first birthday he got to spend with her and he had F.R.I.D.A.Y send a very strict warning to pretty much everyone with his cell number.  

If anyone so much as thought about ruining their day together, he’d make their life a living hell as only Tony Stark could. Even Pepper, who’d done her best not to laugh at the time, endured a half-hearted finger-wagging session the night before. She hadn’t taken it to heart, in fact, she thought it was one of the sweetest things Tony had ever done.

He was trying so hard to honour the words that still echoed in his mind, ones he’d never forget.

Stop letting her down…

He’d be the first to admit that maybe he’d taken it a little too far. Despite personally driving his daughter to school and trying to make it home in time for dinner each day, Tony was a bit of a mess. These were uncharted waters and he didn’t exactly have a prime example in his father to know how far was too far, but he thought it was going quite well. 

There was a happiness in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she first arrived, a newfound comfort that allowed her to spend weekends in his workshop with him, asking question after question about his latest project.

If she was happy, then he was happy. He was doing his best to be the dad she deserved, and Pepper had reassured him that he was doing a good job.

Unfortunately, and understandably, her happiness had dipped. A month after transferring to the Tower, her mother had passed. Tony had known that pain before, he’d known the loss and suffering. But seeing his child, the one person in the world he do absolutely anything for, experience that same thing…it hurt him more than he ever thought possible.   

“Dad?”

He was mercifully thrown out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“Can I take it off now?”

“Sure.”

She perked up. “Really?”

Tony smirked. 

“No.”

---------

“Okay, a little to the left…not that far left.” Tony’s hand shot out to keep her from tumbling down the stairs. 

This blindfold thing didn’t seem like such a great idea in hindsight. Getting up the stairs had taken far too long for someone as impatient as Tony Stark. 

“Now?” She asked, not even bothering to hide her exasperation. 

“Just gimme...” Keys jingled. “A sec.” A lock clicked. “Alright, just a few more seconds.” A hand wrapped itself around her elbow and steered her inside the room. 

The door slipped shut behind her, and her dad was unusually silent.

“Alright, kid. You can take it off now.”

Her eyes were moist and bleary when she finally slipped the blindfold off, but she froze. 

She knew these floors. She knew the walls and the equipment too, freshly painted and newly bought, but familiar nonetheless. Too many tears had been shed in recent months, but she couldn’t help the sting in her eyes nor the pressure at the back of her throat. She could only stare, wide-eyed as her feet unconsciously led her toward the wall of mirrors she’d looked into every weekend since she was a child.

There, right on the wall above, was a framed photo. She didn’t need to ask when it was taken, there was only one possible answer. Her mother’s smile was radiant, her eyes scrunched in a laugh as the man beside stared down at her with a smile of his own. They made for a beautiful pair, no matter how temporary their acquaintance. She’d never seen this photo before, never thought one existed. 

But in that moment, in her mind, they were right where they belonged - together.

A shuddering breath left her and she tried to steady herself. 

No more tears.

She forced her gaze away.

By the window was a desk, it wasn’t there before but the desk itself was irrelevant. The small box on top of it was wrapped in matte red wrapping paper and a shiny gold ribbon. She cracked a shaky smile and glanced over at her dad. He was lingering by the doorway, letting her have this moment to herself. 

He offered her a soft smile in return.

Her legs hadn’t felt this weak in a long time but they made it. There was a small piece of paper, folded and tucked beneath the ribbon.

The writing was unforgettable, elegantly slanted, if a little shaky. She realised then, that it must have been written near the end. Short and to the point. The sting in her eyes disappeared, the dam broke, and he was there in a flash.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

I love you so much, 

Mom xxx

“It’s alright.” A hand rubbed her back gently. “I got you.”

He’d comforted her before, and though he was more familiar with the protocol now, he’d often get chatty in situations like this - bringing up anything and everything to lessen the weight of the moment. It was usually enough to distract her until she fell asleep on rough nights. He’d joke that her old man’s ramblings could put her right to bed, and he liked to think that she appreciated his efforts. 

But this time…this time there was no avoiding the conversation that had to be had.

“She told me about this place, y’know? Said it was your favourite place in the world.”

“It is.”

Her words were muffled, by her tears or by his shirt, probably both. 

“Also said you wanted to be an instructor when you grew up.”

“I do.”

She pulled away from him then, the sleeves of her sweater pressed to her eyes as she took another shuddering breath. 

“Then you’re gonna need a studio, huh?” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

Her hands finally came away from her bloodshot eyes, and he had to remind himself that there were some things he couldn’t protect her from, things that were out of his control. Loss, unfortunately, was one of those things. 

“Last one, I promise,” he said with a guilty little smile, and the small red box in hand. 

She huffed a laugh, the sound thick in her throat. Two keys twinkled at her when she removed the lid, freshly cut and in much better condition than she remembered.

“Happy birthday, kid,” he murmured softly.

A sweet and appreciative smile tugged at her lips, and she threw her arms around him again.  

“Thanks, dad. For everything.” She drew in a deep breath. “You’re the best.”

Smartest, sleaziest, cockiest…they were all titles he’d boasted in the tabloids during his younger days, but he never thought he’d earn the best. Not from anyone that mattered. 

“Come on,” he said, ignoring the slight prickling in his own eyes. “I left cake in the storeroom fridge. Don’t tell Pepper.”

---------

The weekend had come around quickly and she’d completely forgotten the invitation she’d extended to Parker and Ned, until her dad had instructed her to send Spider-boy to him as soon as he arrived. They were okay - friendly enough and better than most of the other kids at school. But that didn’t mean she wanted them there. 

The elevator chimed. Too late. 

“H-hey, hi.”

It was Parker who spoke, Ned was too busy staring at the walls and ceilings and…literally everything, to form any words. 

“Hi?” She absentmindedly greeted, watching as Ned wandered off in some sort of trance. 

“Hi.” Parker smiled, awkward and somewhat dopey, a match for his breathy tone. He realised that she realised that he was staring, and with a flutter of lashes, that familiar look of panic crossed his features. Then he was back to the stuttering, stammering, mess she knew him to be.

“Thanks for, y’know, helping out with Flash. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. To be honest, I didn’t think you guys would actually come.”

“We weren’t going to - not because we didn’t want to!” He quickly added, rambling on like water gushing from a cracked dam. “I did, we did. I just know we’re not exactly friends - and that’s totally fine, really - and I didn’t want to bother you, I just wanted to thank you for- for your…” He trailed off with a long, drawn-out breath, and wide-eyed mortification. “Help.” 

It sounded more like he was asking for it.

“Right…” She nodded, drawing out the word in a way that made his cheeks flood with warmth, before jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Dad’s in his workshop, said something about an upgrade if you’re interested.”

“Oh! Great. Thank you, I um, I’ll just…” He pointed in the same direction, and wondered why a small smile had slipped onto her face. Then he realised he was staring again. Peter cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away with a sheepish smile. “Heh, sorry. Thanks again!” 

“Peter?”

He spun around.

“It’s the…other door.”

His cheeks flushed once more and he rushed out of the room before he could embarrass himself further. 

“What’d I miss?” Ned smiled obliviously.

I have no idea, she thought with a shake of her head.

“C’mon, Ned. Let me show you around.”

---------

When she left the house that day the fridge had been bare. The tickets were in her dad’s pocket, or in Pepper’s purse, and a smile was on her face.

As soon as the music began, she forgot about the ache in her knees and the butterflies running rampant in her stomach. She’d never been so nervous for a performance. But then again, no other performance had ever been as important to her as this one. The excitement of having her father there, watching her dance for the very first time had long since evaporated, and all that remained were her nerves and a twinge of sadness she tried her best to push down. 

It wasn’t the first recital her mother hadn’t been able to make it to, but it was the first one since she’d passed. 

The morning had been spent in tears. When she thought of dancing, she thought of weekends spent in their studio, and road trips across the States from competition to competition. The afternoon came. It forced sadness from her mind and welcomed uncertainty. 

Her whole life had been spent wondering what her father would think of her - if someone as brilliant as Tony Stark could ever be proud of someone as normal as her. She didn’t like business, and she didn’t want Stark Industries. She was certain he knew this by now, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about it. Instead, he’d bought her old dance studio and slipped into front row seats while she hyperventilated backstage. 

Her stress, it seemed, was for nothing. That was usually how things went.

“Incredible!”

“You think so?”

“Sure do. I couldn’t look away, right, Pep?” 

Pepper nodded with an indulgent smile.

“It’s the longest he’s been able to focus on a single thing since we met.” She shot Tony a pointed look that softened when she looked over at his daughter. “Congratulations, sweetie, that was an amazing performance.”

“Thanks, Pepper!” 

“So what now? You gotta go sign autographs, take some selfies with the fans?” She laughed and gave her dad a nudge. Tony smiled down at her.

“Now, I go get changed and then you buy me food.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He nodded, watching as she turned to head backstage. “Hey, kid?”

“Yeah?” 

She looked back at him, and Tony couldn’t help the intense feeling of deja vu that came over him. She looked so much like her mother in that moment, and though he knew she was a whole half of him, it only really hit him then. Pepper gave his waist a reassuring squeeze, always attuned to his every thought. 

Something swelled in his chest, pure and whole and unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He always thought he hated his father, but now, as he stood there with her looking up at him like his opinion meant the world to her…he couldn’t help but feel sorry for old Howard. Had he ever felt the way Tony felt now? Had he ever looked at his own son and wondered how he ever could have gotten so lucky?

Whatever he was originally planning on saying was forgotten. 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

Her smile was blinding and that was all he needed.

“Thanks, dad.” 

--------

Thoughts?

[rynhaswritersblock]

spider-man chapstick | p.p.

summary: Nostalgic finds at New York bodegas can lead to flirtatious and awkward encounters with the boy you call your best friend.

warnings: awkward flirting, bodegas *shudder*, a hint of chaotic energy

+ + +

It was weird what thoughts could spring from such an ordinary inanimate object. Sure, random items filling the shelves at the local bodega sprung a smile onto your face, but they'd never sparked mischief and thoughts the way this one had.

You pursed your lips, taking a small step closer to the shelf, reaching forward and grabbing a chapstick.

Not just any chapstick. Spider-Man chapstick.

It wasn't peculiar to find objects like such in a bodega. In fact, ever since Iron Man became a thing, store shelves became stocked with ordinary objects decorated in honor of the hero. Therefore, it wasn't a surprise to see an array of chapsticks, each donned with decorations of a different Avenger.

You twisted the tube around in your fingers. It was pomegranate flavored, and when you swiftly popped off the cap to get a whiff, it smelled like your ordinary cheap chapstick. Nonetheless, you had your mind hooked on the idea of Peter's reaction when he saw you applying a tube of chapstick with- well, him- donned on it.

You put the lid back on, walking to the register and purchasing the item as quickly as possible.

+ + +

As soon as you caught sight of Peter Parker heading down the hallway, you jumped and fumbled around your locker for that godforsaken chapstick. Your fingers made contact with it just mere seconds before the boy leaned against the locker next to yours and you quickly began applying it, looking in the mirror in the door of your locker before looking over at him.

"Hi," he breathes, signature crooked smile planted on his lips.

You only give him a slight eyebrow raise in acknowledgement, making sure to apply the chapstick as slowly as possible. It tasted like pure nostalgia, sparking your memories of being little and "playing with makeup"- AKA really just caking on whatever you had on.

"Ready for Physi-?"

You bite back the raging urge to smile, looking over at his dumbstruck face, brown eyes squinting.

"Is that...?"

Lips feeling a bit too hydrated, you pull the tube away from your face and hold the tube in front of your face, twisting it around.

An incredulous and bewildered look lights his face. "You have Spider-Man chapstick?!"

You shrug nonchalantly. He snatches the object out of your hand and twists it around right in front of his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

"LipSmackers, you know?" you say, watching him. "They always have the superhero stuff."

A bright grin plays on his face before it suddenly drops and he looks at you, or more specifically, your lips. It didn't help that his heightened senses pulled the scent to him, filling him with remembrance of the two of you in your youngest days, at the beginning of your friendship.

And all of a sudden, he can't get the fact that you applied Spider-Man chapstick out of his mind. Sure, the two of you had a flirty relationship, one that made half the school believe you were dating, but you both knew that wasn't true. You were best friends, that's it. Still, Peter was bewildered by you. You knew he was Spider-Man and bought that chapstick with that knowledge, then proceeded to tauntingly apply it, right before his eyes.

"Peter? You good?" you ask, noticing his zoned-out gaze on your lips.

"Oh, yeah," he breathes, handing the tube back to you, sucking in a tight breath.

Mission completed.

+ + +

"Sounds like you're in a bit of a dilemma, kid."

Peter couldn't help but spill the details to none other than Tony Stark. Hell, if anything, the relationship between Y/N L/N and Peter Parker was a reality show, one that kept Tony hooked and amused while Peter ranted for hours on end.

"Yeah," the boy sighs, desperation lacing his words.

"So," Tony starts, "what're you gonna do about it?"

"I don't know, Mr. Stark. That's why I'm talking to you about it."

"Pete, you ever think about the idea that maybe she's doing this to mess with you? Flirt a little?"

A look of dumbstruck radiates across Peter's face. "What?"

Tony sighs, a worn out smile tugging on his lips as he rubs his hand across his face. "You spend all this time talking about her, undoubtedly in love, yet have no idea to even consider the fact that every time she does something that makes your heart flutter, or those cheeks of yours to blush, that maybe she does that on purpose?"

The dumbstruck look only amplifies before the hint of a crooked smile tugs at the boy's lips. "You mean you think she likes me, too?"

"Yes, kid," the man nods. "She's your best friend. I'm surprised you hadn't picked up on it yet. "

His words don't even make Peter's growing smile falter.

"Okay, uh, thank you, Mr. Stark! See you later!"

And with that, he's out the door.

+ + +

Peter Parker was going to do it.

He'd thought about it all night, planning and brainstorming. It was time.

"Hey, Peter," you greet, watching him come closer.

"Hi, uh, do you mind if I borrow some of that chapstick?" he asks, bouncing on his feet, making you furrow your brows slightly.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

You fumble around your locker until you find it and hold the tube out to him.

"No, not from there."

"What?" you ask.

He touches your arm lightly before quickly jumping back, eyes wide.

"Hey, guys!" Ned smiles.

"Um," you clear your throat, "hi, Ned."

Peter only nods and you cock your head in confusion. His mood, now sour, radiates off of him as Ned rambles about a Star Wars LEGO set he bought the other day.

"Well, I'm gonna head to class. Bye, guys!" you awkwardly say and beeline the other way, but not without hearing a groan of frustration erupt from Peter from behind you. You stop, curious, and hide yourself behind the water fountain to stay out of their sight.

"I was gonna kiss her, Ned!"

"Really, Peter, in the middle of the hallway? With all these horny teenagers?"

Your eyes widen.

Holy shit.

+ + +

You were going to do it.

You'd gotten Peter to agree to a study session after school once you came up with a plan. It was time.

The final bell rang and you hopped out of your seat, shoving through the crowds to find Peter at your locker.

He looks up from his phone. "Ready?"

The commute home was quiet, the vast majority of it spent listening to the playlist the two of you made together and looking around at the buildings, even though you'd known them all your life.

The air was weird when you walked into the house. Your parents were still at work, as per usual, but the weird tension between the two of you amplified just a smidge every second that passed.

The two of you collapsed on your bed, like you did every time.

"So," Peter sighs, turning his head to you, subconsciously taking in the way your hair was sprawled across the mattress.

"Oh, hey!" you blurt, unable to wait any longer. "You still need chapstick, don't you?"

Confusion and slight regret blossoms on the boy's face.

"Uh, yeah, sort of-"

You chastely peck him on the lips, flustered and in too awkward of a position to do anything better than that. Peter practically shoots up, hurriedly rearranging himself on the bed. You sit up as well.

"You needed chapstick, didn't you?" you ask, embarrassed.

"Yeah, but that wasn't enough," the boy mutters before leaning back in, planting a softer, longer kiss on your lips that was much smoother and more enjoyable than the one you'd given him.

You pull away slowly, giddy smiles on your faces.

"Wow, I forgot how good cheap chapstick tastes."

"Jeez, Peter."

+ + +

this took so long to write holiday season is crazy

[drawingdullahan]

anything aitsf related since it's a game you're newly into?

You’ve got it!! I havent played very much of it yet, but please accept this lolol

I love one (1) Kaname Date and his dumb AI hamster

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

“What the hell are you doing?” Date sighed at Aiba who seemed to be trying to put something together in his somnium. He couldn’t exactly move, which happened sometimes in dreams, and he didn’t feel alert enough to actually care.

“Working on something,” she replied plain and simple as usual, though that just annoyed Date a bit more.

“Mind telling me what it is?” he asked next.

“No, don’t look, its not ready yet,” she said like a child hiding a drawing from their parent, “Do something else in the meantime.”

That made him chuckle a bit. Sometimes Aiba acted like a child, and he always got a kick out of that seeing as she was an intelligent ai meant for helping a detective. For now, he turned his attention to the room in his somnium.

It was weird, but that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. A lizard hanging from the ceiling fan, the kitchen light flickering different colors. It was weird, but his sleep self couldn’t really find it in himself to mind all that much.

“Is waking up here going to be a recurring thing?” he asked.

“Correction: you are not awake.”

“You knew what I meant,” he groaned and looked around for something more interesting to focus on.

“I had you enter this state because there’s something I need to show you,” she said in a serious tone.

Date himself became very serious at that. The current case was no closer to being solved and it was putting Date and Boss through a lot of stress. He wondered if Aiba had picked up on something that he hadn’t. It would certainly help the case a lot.

“What is it?” he asked her carefully. Once again, he tried to get a peek, but she hid it. The fact that she was doing this now made him just a bit anxious. If she was going out of her way to hide it then perhaps it was something more jarring than he thought. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Its almost done… there,” she sighed in relief and stood, turning to face him with a sheet of paper in her hands.

“What is it?” he asked, “Just show it to me, c’mon.”

She turned the paper around with the proudest look he’s ever seen on her considering she’s an ai. Where he expected to see a connected chain of killings and crimes, he instead say a poorly drawn horse. In the center of the picture all it said was “Kale” and Date didn’t even try to take a second to figure out what it was supposed to mean.

“What… the hell am I supposed to be looking at, Aiba?” Date took a deep breath.

“I’ve done research, and I think that this is what children and teenagers consider a “meme”,” she nodded, “Richard Dawkins coined the term to mean any idea that lasts among the human population. Or in other terms a unit of cultural transmission. Children nowadays, mostly teens, use the term to mean images of unique randomness that they find enjoyable enough to share with their friends. I believe that if we use this, we can become closer to the younger witnesses and clients that we find ourselves speaking to.”

“And this is you’re meme?” Date was doing his best to hold back a laugh.

“Precisely,” she nodded seriously, “Does its unique randomness not inspire laughter?”

“Oh, it does alright,” he got out before falling into a fit of laughter. Of course, he wasn’t laughing at the picture, more at the fact that she had tried.

“I see,” she grinned proudly once more, “Then I’ll be saving this to your phone for future use!”

Date wheezed a bit, “Please do, damn that’s a good laugh.”

“Then you’ll be sharing it with your friends?” she asked, a tone of hopefulness about her.

“You can count on it,” he managed to get out as he tried to let his chuckles subside.

[horseluvr00-ff]

A Place to Call Home | Chapter 34

Masterlist Here

Rating: T+

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/family | kidnapping, violence, strong language.

Story summary: It’s been a few months since the Battle of New York. Steve Rogers is acclimating to life when he crosses paths with teenager Katelyn Sanders, a SHIELD recruit and highly valued asset with a dark past. Follow Kate’s adventure from SHIELD asset to Avenger to wanted fugitive over the course of her youth and into adulthood with her Avenging family. Follows Infinity Saga and beyond.

Words: 7,208

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Marvel/Disney. My OC Katelyn Sanders, as well as a few other unaffiliated things within this fanfic are of my own creation.

Author Note: Relogs are welcome and appreciated :) Please no plagiarism or reposts on other platforms. Updates occur weekly on Fridays, however posts on Tumblr usually occur Saturdays.

Full story available on FFN and A03 here and here

Chapter 34 can be found here on FFN and here on AO3 in full.

Check out a portion of Chapter 34 below:

It's late in the evening, and Kate is out wandering the streets.

While one could argue it was more dangerous than walking around during the day when people were out and about - for Kate - the desertedness of the city made it easier to spot threats. The overwhelming nature of the day, when hundreds of thousands of people roamed the streets, it was difficult for Kate to focus. Walking around late at night however, with fewer people present, brought about a certain clarity.

While Kate's ability granted her many talents, it also made her hyper aware of a whole magnitude of things. Things most people didn't notice or perhaps didn't even have the courage to confront.

Picking up dinner with Clint earlier that day - Kate hadn't planned on doing anything out of the ordinary. Waiting for the agent to return from the restaurant with their takeout was the plan… Until she heard it.

An individual yelling out, proclaiming someone had taken their backpack. Attention already peaked; Kate had found herself pushing off the wall, heading down the sidewalk towards the closest alley before feeling her senses heighten. The sound bounced off walls and channeled her way. As if she had a sort of psychic map in her mind, Kate picked up a jog, making her way through the small maze of alleys until she heard the sound of heavy breathing pick up.

Breaking into a short run, Kate made her way around the corner, gauging her point of impact before running round the corner, left arm extended out she slammed it into an individual's chest, causing their feet to fly out before they hit the ground with a pained grunt-like yell.

Picking up the backpack, Kate had watched as the individual, looking only a few years older than herself, had quickly gotten up and ran away, more fearful than she had originally anticipated.

The whole ordeal had been over as quickly as it had started. The individual that had called out regarding their stolen property eventually ran up to her and Kate returned the property, mentioning that the one who had taken it had dropped it. No need to gloat.

Kate had made her way back to the restaurant quickly, hoping she hadn't been missed, only to see Clint on the phone and looking somewhat nervous.

Yeah, that hadn't been the greatest moment. Especially after Steve's reaction when they got back to the Tower.

Hands deep in her hoodie pockets, Kate continues to walk down the mostly empty sidewalk dimly lit by streetlights. There weren't many people out. The majority of them didn't look all that menacing, but her senses made clear which people projected ill-intent and which didn't. Raised heart rates and tense muscles were prominent in most of the individuals she passed, as if they thought they'd get caught any moment.

While her better judgment told her this wasn't smart, she also couldn't really remember a time when she did something like this. The last time she was "normal" she was probably seven years old. The amount of freedom people her age had- she didn't know… However she felt capable enough to be out here… looking for trouble to stop.

She tried not to dwell on that fact too much - the fact that she was out here late at night looking for trouble - some kind of bad to stop.

Turning down a different block, Kate keeps her eyes ahead but somewhat low on the sidewalk. She could feel eyes turn towards her as she passed people here and there. Pulling her hood over her head, Kate continues on her way.

Aside from the thundercloud over her head telling her she was asking for trouble, the city was somewhat comforting at night. It might be her subconscious understanding that she could handle any individual who may approach her with ill intent, but regardless of the fact, she felt a sense of ease walking down the street, the cold air soothing her.

A string of angered curses suddenly pulls Kate from her thoughts and her eyes snap upwards. Coming to a corner, she looks down the sidewalk seeing two people disappear into one of the alleyways.

"I- said no," A female voice; agitated.

Clenching and unclenching her hands in her pockets, Kate begins making her way down the sidewalk before slowing at the corner of the alleyway where the two people now where.

"You don't seem to understand that me telling you no at work, and me telling you no now, hasn't changed anything-" The woman's fist was curled up tightly, the man in front of her holding her wrist tight enough that she couldn't pull it away, but loose enough that he wasn't trying to fully restrain her.

"I paid you double, you owe me more than a private sh- Can I help you?"

Kate tilts her head lightly, the man now looking over his shoulder expectantly while eyeing her impatiently.

Kate's eyes move between him and the woman momentarily before the woman rips her wrist from his grasp and begins walking towards Kate, and then out onto the sidewalk. Her expression was one of annoyance and frustration but her heart rate gave away how fearful she was as she picked up a quick pace down the sidewalk.

The man was stationary momentarily, the tenseness to his body obvious - ability or not.

Cursing under his breath, he begins walking in the same direction the woman had, going to pass Kate and head down the sidewalk. He intentionally knocks her shoulder with his own as he passes her, causing her to step back a hair before turning to look over her shoulder.

There were certain aspects to her ability that made things not usually visible, known to her. Certain factors helped her to anticipate behavior. Muscle tension, walking pace, expression, even smell by means of odor changes. Fear, anger, and happiness can cause chemical changes related that give off different odors. For example, when someone is afraid, they may sweat, which gives off a distinct odor she can associate accordingly.

Turning on her heel, Kate picks up her walking pace to follow the man.

~0~

A Few Hours Later…

For Tony, sleeping was something becoming harder and harder to come by. It wasn't that he had… trouble. He just had a lot of energy. And ideas and random thoughts would also hit him at odd hours of the night, thoughts he had to act on in case he forgot them in the morning.

He had promised Pepper to give the workshop a break. While he was doing that- she never said he couldn't hangout on the communal floor doing what he most likely would've done in the workshop.

"Jarvis, how's it looking?" Tony questions, the only light in the area coming off the tablet in his hands.

"Diagnostics have been run, sir. Trials are ready whenever you see fit." The AI responds.

Tony chews on his bottom lip lightly for a moment, eyes searching the screen as he looks over the image present.

It was something he had been working on as a side project. Something for Kate. With the kid being around for the foreseeable future, he figured finding something they can work on aside from her ability would be beneficial.

She was an interesting character, Tony had to admit. He usually didn't let much visibly surprise him, but she was a curious individual and he was looking forward to getting her out of her shell. There were certain moments or situations where Kate would surprise him, give someone sass or show a confidence he suspected lurked just beneath the surface - something she didn't reveal very often.

"Sir, Katelyn Sanders is about to get off the elevator."

Tony's brow knits as he looks over his shoulder, eyes meeting the closed elevator doors before he swipes the images on his tablet aside.

"Where's she coming from?"

"The lobby, sir."

"... Uh huh." Tony's lips part slightly as he processes the statement.

This wasn't the first time Jarvis had informed him. Whatever it was the kid was doing - going out at night, she seemed to be coming back alright. It wasn't his place to necessarily scold her for her actions.

The ding of the elevator finally opens and Tony doesn't acknowledge the movement of someone walking out of the space before stopping. In the following seconds, Kate goes to disappear back into the elevator.

"Goin so soon?" Tony speaks up, tapping about on the tablet screen. "You're out kind of late, kid… Three a.m.? Good thing I was down here and not your pops."

A gentle scold… a suggestive scold; not a full on scold.

"I was jus-... I wanted to get some air" Kate responds. She sounded a bit closer.

"Could've gotten some on the balcony," Tony turns and eyes the teen with an amused smirk. She appeared anxious but accepting of the situation.

"Regardless of whatever this is I am now a part of; just make sure you don't do anything rash on these little adventures you're taking." Voice laced with a hint of concern, Tony continues to eye the teen, seeing her gaze elsewhere.

"Adventures? Plural?" Despite her controlled expression, Tony can hear the amusement in her voice and gives a little chuckle before nodding to the side.

"Well you looked like a zombie this morning, and we only watched that show til around ten," Tony offers.

At his comment, Kate clenches her jaw and takes a couple steps to the side, blocking his view of her face as she crosses her arms.

Alright, m'probably pushing her a little too much.

"I won't pester you, go get some rest Kenai."

Tony may or may not have a small list of nickname ideas for the kid. Nicknames for her weren't coming as easily to him. T-1000 was the next one that came to mind but… Calling the kid a terminator wasn't appropriate. Especially now that he knows more about her. Those details… Made his skin crawl. When he looked at Katelyn, he didn't see someone capable of racking up a body count greater than two dozen.

Hearing the teen question the nickname, Tony blinks his thoughts away quickly before giving her an amused smile and a shrug - brow knitting seconds later.

"You haven't seen Brother Bear? Bah- we'll get you caught up, don't worry. For now I gotta keep thinking of some nicknames for you." Tony mumbles, eyes still on the tablet.

Preferably ones that don't label you a killing machine… Unfortunately something I don't think it too far off from what that Doctor Gordon was trying to turn you into.

Kate is silent following Tony's words, but doesn't wait too long to head towards the stairwell.

Once the door closes, Tony lets the tablet fall into his lap, brow knitting gently.

"Jarvis, I need you to scope security cameras within a five block radius. I wanna know where's she's been going and what she's been doing,"

"Will do, sir."

The rest of chapter 34 can be found here on FFN and here on AO3. Take a peak to keep reading!

Stay healthy, stay safe, sending lots of love. <3

Masterlist Here

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

In Keeping Secrets || Celeste and Kaden

LOCATION: Dell’s Tavern PARTIES: @celestelavie and @chasseurdeloup TIMING: Before wing-gate SUMMARY: Kaden and Celeste have a lot of questions for each other. They find some answers... and some stripes.

Celeste hadn’t been sure what to make of this Kaden character. It was a relief they were no longer living in the same home and she could allow him to believe they were. Apparently, he had helped Ariana though and didn’t threaten her. That didn’t mean Celeste was keen to trust he wouldn’t try anything. She was still kicking herself that a hedgehound had to be in their yard when she had been unavailable. He was being personable enough in their conversations online, but that meant very little until he could assure her he wouldn’t actively hunt Ariana. She was sure he had questions as well. It wasn’t exactly common practice for werewolf hunters to raise werewolves, not that she was much of a werewolf hunter. Hell, she lived in a house full of them now. It almost amused her how much that would piss her parents off. Perhaps he’d even known a bit of how the bounties in the town worked though she wasn’t sure that was information he’d willingly give up considering he would be able to see the truth behind her motives. Either way, meeting with him was a must. She’d opted to slip one of her knives into her leather jacket and laced up her boots. With there being murderous mimes running around time, one had to be prepared. As she walked into the bar, she found it was quiet enough given it was a weekday and there were reports of murderous mimes. She’d opted for a little table tucked quietly away in the back. When the waitress came by she ordered a Tanquerey with rose tonic and waited for Kaden to arrive.

As he headed out to Dell’s Tavern, keeping one eye out for any striped shirts on his way there, Kaden didn’t know what Celeste could want to talk about with him but he could get an idea. The whole leave my sister alone speech, he was sure of it. Still, he was intrigued to meet  her, too. The entire concept of a werewolf hunter living with a werewolf was beyond baffling. He had to know how it worked. How could she ignore the nagging hunter sixth sense every day? The word sister had been thrown around by the two of them enough by now that he had a few theories. One being that her sister didn’t get the hunter gene and fell victim to an unfortunate accident. Anything beyond that? Hard to say. Then again, maybe she didn’t specialize in werewolves but something told him that wasn’t the case. Guess he’d find out. He saw her in the back, where she suggested she’d be. She looked enough like the teenage wolf he’d seen the other day that he figured it was safe to say that was her. “You Celeste?” he asked as he went to take a seat. “Kaden Langley,” he told her, wondering if she’d recognize the family name. It was a toss up, especially on this side of the Atlantic, but  always worth checking.

It had been a long time since Celeste met with another hunter. Usually the goal was to avoid them as to not tip them off to Ariana and there was always the off chance another hunter could know her parents. It left her feeling slightly on edge as she twirled the straw around in her drink. The sound of her name brought her attention back to the meeting at hand. She gave a nod and her lips twitched slightly upward as she said, “That’s me.” Mention of his last name piqued her interest. She could swear she had heard her parents mention the Langleys before. Her face lit up a little bit at the recognition of his name, but she regained composure. There was no need to mention that. It wasn’t like she could share her real last name with him. Instead, she greeted, “It’s good to meet you, Kaden. Thanks for taking the time to talk with me.” She paused as the waitress came up and took Kaden’s drink order. Surely, this meeting was strange for both of them. Once the waitress was out of earshot, she added, ‘I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me and I’d love the chance to help you make sense of our situation.”

It was clear enough his name rang a bell, even if she wasn’t going to say it outloud. Kaden ordered a gin from the waitress and gave her a small smile as she walked away. The mood was tense but not unbearable. Thankfully. It looked like he’d have to play ball first. Which worked for him. If he got his questions answered, all the better. Then he could hold his cards as close to his hands as he wanted. “You’re right, I do,” he said, leaning back in the booth and trying to size her up. “How does a hunter end up living with a werewolf? She really your sister? How’d she turn? I mean, you are a werewolf hunter, right? I take it your interest in Romania wasn’t just because of some fun history facts.”

All of his questions were right in line with what Celeste had been expecting. Their situation was far from ordinary. The question was if he could understand the story and why she made the choices she did. There was no use in putting it off, but that didn’t stop her from taking a generous sip of her gin and tonic before answering. “I suppose I may as well tell you the whole story. You already know what we are,” she paused taking in a deep breath, “Ariana is not biologically my sister. She was born a werewolf and I was supposed to kill her about fifteen years ago on a hunt with my parents. Genetically speaking, yes, I’m a werewolf hunter.  At this stage I’m more of an argopelter and random creature hunter. But yes, back to how I ended up living with and being a werewolf’s guardian- She was just so small and helpless when I found her, given she was three years old. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill a child. So I took her and ran and now here we are.” She searched his features, searching for indication of what he made of all of this. She felt inclined to add, “She’s never hurt anyone… well, unless you’re a bleeding heart for deer and other small game.” A struggled laugh escaped her lips before her features took a more serious turn, “All jokes aside, I can understand it may seem strange, but have you ever personally been confronted with the reality of killing a child?”

Kaden kept his back pressed firmly into the back of his seat, arms crossed as he listened. Even if every part of him wanted to lean in and pick into the details of this. It was fascinating and strange. Something he could never imagine. Almost like a fairy tale or fable told over the fire. Though he suspected this one didn’t have the twist where the monsters were slayed by the good hunters at the end. He felt a ping, a weird string of fate at the mention of fifteen years ago. The timing was just a coincidence, surly, but it was hard to place saving a baby werewolf at the same point in the past as seeing the dead bodies of his parents mauled by the same kind of monster. He shook it off and tried to focus on what she was saying. It was hard to imagine a wolf as small or helpless. But then she added her age. Three. Just three. Fuck. And he thought seeing a teenage werewolf was complicated. He took a deep breath, trying to take in her last question. In truth, he hadn’t, not really. He shook his head, eyes moving down to his drink. “Uh, no. I tend to only kill wolves when they look like them. Easier. For a lot of reasons.” He hoped she knew. Hell, she’d hunted, she could fill in the blanks. He swirled the glass around, watching the ice clink against the edges. “I don’t think I could. But, uh, I think…” He’d leave her? Fuck. He didn’t know. “Putain, I don’t know.” His mouth pulled into a thin line as he tried to rationalize any of this. “She still can, you know. Hurt someone. That’s…” His eyes hardened as he shot his glance back up to meet hers. “How will you handle it if she does? If she loses control? Turns someone? Or kills them.”

Out of all the ways this conversation could have gone, Celeste knew he was taking this reasonably well. Hell, he was here listening to her in the first place which is more than she ever got from her own parents. Even the thought of the last time she saw her father was enough to give her chills. They wanted her dead as much as they wanted Ariana dead though her father had been very explicit in wanting her to watch her “pet wolf” die. She shook it away. It wasn’t productive, not right now. The matter at hand was trying to put Kaden at ease enough that he wouldn’t come tracking down Ariana to kill her. She’d have plenty of time to worry about her parents later. With another sip of her gin, she looked to him and nodded, “I thought as much. I suppose you never really know what you’ll do in a situation until you’re the one in it.” His questions were reasonable, especially coming from a werewolf hunter. She placed her drink down and kept herself from fidgeting with the straws, instead letting her elbows rest on the table. “I say this from knowing and raising her, not a place of naivety, that those things wouldn’t happen. She’s a good kid. A little hot headed from time to time, but she’s compassionate and always goes out of her way to help people when she can. She’s not left alone during the full moon and god forbid she does lose control of herself, I have measures in place to subdue her until dawn.” She let out another long breath and added, “I don’t expect you to change your entire world view, but all I can ask is you don’t actively seek her out to hunt her. I understand if you find her hurting someone, all bets are off, but I’m confident I won’t need to worry about that. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you seem the type who’s in this more for the greater good than for pure sport.”

Ever since he got to White Crest, everything made less and less sense. Decisions he thought were easy didn’t seem so simple anymore and he found the fast rules he’d set in place becoming more and more flexible. Kaden grit his teeth and wanted to lock up, push all these fucking deep morality questions away, make things simple again. Stick his head in the sand. Instead he took a sip of his drink and then focused back on the very interesting melting ice cubes in his glass once more. He should have known she had a plan for containing her sister when she was forced to transform. Even if she was a bit of a deserter, there’s no way she’d forget what she knew about werewolves. Especially not if she wanted to protect her sister like she claimed she wanted to. “I’m sure she’s--” He recalled his encounter with her. How much she reminded him of Blanche. He shook it away and leaned forward in his seat. “What happens when you’re not around on the full moon? If you get hurt? Or sick? Or any number of things. I don’t doubt you can keep her contained. But there’s a lot of contingencies to that.” He shook his head. He didn’t like it. This whole situation. Saving werewolves? Raising them? Was it really responsible to do that? Shit, he didn't know. He just knew it felt wrong. But so did looking at a three year old and shooting point blank. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of the way and let out a sigh. “Of course it’s not a sport. Anyone who thinks otherwise shouldn’t be allowed to call themselves a hunter. But all the same, exceptions to the rule, they feel… Wrong. Not how things should--” He cut himself off, unsure of what to even say anymore, and took another quick sip of his drink, eyes darting down to the table once more. “I’m not going to target her.” Another sip, and he looked back up at her. “That doesn’t mean I approve of this shit.”

The world they lived in was far from simple. All things considered, Kaden was taking this impressively well. It was a difficult thing coming across something that challenged the way you saw the world. Celeste had no expectations outside of him at least refraining from placing a target on Ariana’s head. Watching him, she could tell this was throwing him for quite the loop. Ice cubes were simply not that interesting and he watched the ones melting away in his drink like they were an Oscar winning film. The fact he was listening to her and perhaps even somewhat understanding her, allowed her to relax just a little bit. The effects of the gin may have also begun to kick in and she knew her cheeks had to be flushed from it. His questions were hard hitting, but she understood. “I’ve managed to make every full moon for the last fifteen years, but even so, she’d surprise you. Born wolves tend to be more in sync with their wolf sides, she remembers all of her full moons. The only thing you have to worry about is White Crest’s deer population if something were to happen to me and I couldn’t be with her.” She chewed her lip nervously knowing if her parents did arrive, there was a good chance neither of them would see another full moon. “I know the idea of a werewolf having balance with both sides probably goes against everything you’ve learned. I’m not asking you to trust her, but perhaps you can trust that I won’t allow anyone to be needlessly hurt on my watch.” She looked at him with a small outline of a smile on her lips, doing her best to keep her features soft and comforting the way she did whenever she could feel Ariana’s temper ready to flare. “That’s fair enough. Exceptions to the rules complicate things. I agree with you, though. It’s not a sport. At the heart of things, our purpose is to protect others. It’s something I still take seriously, I just don’t think it’s as simple as any of us would like it to be.” Her eyes shot down to her own drink before taking another sip. It still felt a little unreal that he agreed to leave Ariana alone. “Thank you,” she said softly with her eyes still cast down on her drink, “That’s more than I could have expected and your kindness in this isn’t something I take lightly.” Now it was time for some questions of her own. He was receptive enough that he may just provide even the smallest amount of help. If she was shot down, she was shot down, but it was worth a shot. She looked back up from her drink and to him, her eyes almost pleading. “I was hoping I could possibly ask for your discretion in regards to this whole situation. Ariana wasn’t the only reason I was eager to run from my parents. They do have a bounty on both of us. I have some protective measures in place, but any insight into how bounties in this town work would be helpful. I’d like to keep my ear to the ground so to speak. Make sure it’s not picked up.”

From the way she talked, there was no denying how much she cared about her sister, biologically related or not. Kaden couldn’t fathom being that attached to a werewolf but weirdly enough, this didn’t feel like his place to judge. And it was hard to believe everything she was saying, it sounded an awful lot like wishful thinking. “As long as you’re around to keep her in check, it’s fine.” It wasn’t good and it still made his skin crawl a little but it’s not like he could argue that she was a danger, not with a hunter marking her. “Buy me another drink and we’ll call it even,” he said with a small smile. It didn’t feel like kindness. It felt like stupidity but he didn’t feel like arguing. Let her figure out later his kindness had limits. He hadn’t much expected her to come with her own set of requests. His forehead creased as he listened to her. Parents with a bounty on their own daughter? Then again, if he pulled a stunt like hers, who was to say his wouldn’t have done the same. You know, if they were alive. “Bounties, huh?” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m not always looking for those but you can find most of them at the Bullet.”  He downed the rest of his drink and waved the waitress over, when she had a second. “You know the Silver Bullet, right? Hunter bar. Bounties there are like an open secret. There’s a guy, tall, lanky, brown hair. He’s almost always got something, seems to have his nose to the ground.” It was taking the waitress a while to come back. Odd. “You might want to be careful, though. I’d be surprised if your picture wasn’t getting passed around that bar as we speak. You know how the community is. Doesn’t take kindly to hunters who step out of line. Especially against family.” And yet here he was, heart bleeding for a teenage werewolf girl and her deserter hunter sister. Putain. What’d that make him? “On that note I never helped you. I like the bar and I’d like to keep going there. I take it you’re from a long line, the way they’re acting?” Still no waitress. Only, Kaden did catch a flash in the corner of his eyes, sharp, high contrast. No. No fucking way. He turned and saw striped shirts and fucking berets coming straight towards him.

It was plain to see he wasn’t necessarily thrilled with the idea, but he was trusting she could keep an eye on Ariana. This was the best possible outcome, though Celeste did pout slightly at her empty drink. Killing your own mime clone and being hunted down by your own parents definitely warranted a couple of drinks. “Yes, I am and will be around,” she left another ‘thank you’ unspoken. She laughed slightly at his remark about buying him another drink, “Deal, if our waitress ever comes back that is.” She tried to be understanding because she was a waitress herself, but it really wasn’t all that busy in here. It was actually strangely quiet which left her feeling slightly on edge as she listened to Kaden speak of the Silver Bullet. Once those sisters helped her with a glamour spell, she could potentially scope out the scene. See if anyone had picked it up though it sounded like a risky plan that could have the adverse effect of drawing even more attention their way. With a sigh, she looked down at her still very empty glass and back to Kaden, “I’m not sure I’ll ever visit, but if I do, I’ll refrain from mentioning your name. Trust me, I know, I’ve got this lovely little number the last time I saw my father,” she pulled the sleeve up on her shirt showing a jagged scar from a knife wound on her upper left arm, “Not that my father ever showed me any kindness before I became the family disappointment.” She knew her voice was bitter, but it wasn’t something she ever got to speak about it. It’s not something she’d ever wanted to put on Ariana and she doubted anyone who grew up outside of the hunter world could understand the harsh standards they placed on their children from a young age. “Yeah, my family goes way back in the Rocky Mountains area. I haven’t actually used my own na-” her sentence was cut off as she saw stripes racing toward them. “Not again,” she grumbled, the stitches in her side still sore. There were two racing toward them, one looking remarkably like Kaden and the other like their waitress. Instinctively, she threw her glass at what would be the stronger of the two mimes and watched as it shattered against the mime’s forehead. He definitely didn’t seem happy with that move and seemed to have his eyes on her. She grabbed her knife from her jacket pocket and moved further out into the aisle to avoid being cornered.

Something about her scar made him want to avert his eyes. It wasn’t imagining the physical wound or even the disfigured skin, Kaden was used to all that. He had plenty of scars of his own and most of the injuries that caused them he’d patched up himself. No, what hurt to look at was the mark of disappointment. How harsh it was and how much that had to hurt on deeper levels. How much he knew full well he’d get the same treatment, maybe worse, from his own family had he been in her shoes. And, of course, if they were around to administer it. Before they could start swapping the tried and true ‘shitty things my hunter parents did’ stories that usually floated around the Bullet, the mimes were descending. Putain. “Not again is fucking right.” Celeste throwing the glass bought him time to pull out his knife, also from his jacket pocket. If there was still any question they grew up with similar childhoods, that sure alleviated that one. The dickhead that looked like him in a beret was gunning for her. “Oh no, not this time!” he shouted as he reached out and yanked the mime’s head by the hair, pulling him away from her. He was going to be the one to kill this fucker this time, make it the last time he had to do this. Kaden raised his knife but before he could thrust it down, he felt pain shoot through his foot. The fucking stabbed one. He cried out in pain and let go of the mime long enough to lose the upper hand. At the same time, he felt something jump onto his fucking back. The waitress. Only with grease paint and a striped uniform. Putain de merde. Kaden rolled his eyes and ran backwards, slamming her body, hard, into the corner of the wall.

There was nothing to ruin a nice-ish evening quite like a mime attack. Celeste grumbled as the waitress mime jumped on him. He looked like he had that handled. Meanwhile his hunter powered mime was focused on her. She dodged as he ran toward her and had her knife at the ready. With a sinister smile, it seemed he had his own knife. Oh fucking hell. She went on the offensive. A left hook to his jaw. A knee hitting her side as he grabbed her other wrist. A groan escaped her lips as she took a knee up to his groin causing him to back away, but also resulted in the stitch job she did on her leg bursting open. “Fuck,” she grumbled, but now the mime seemed ready to target Kaden again. “Watch out,” she shouted, and lunged for the other mime with another pained moan, plunging her knife into its stomach.

Kaden had managed to knock the waitress mime off of him but that left the door wide open for the beret’d version of himself to take a swipe at him. This fucking connard again, huh? Alright, it was weird saying that about himself or something that looked like him, but so was fighting it. Hand to hand was never his strong suit, it was always fight to win, make sure you had a weapon on you. The greasepaint version of himself seemed to come from the same school of thought. He went to stamp on Kaden’s foot again, but this time he dodged, anticipating it. What he didn’t anticipate was the knife aimed right at his guts. He managed to twist his body away to avoid anything major but, putain, that was close to being the second time a mime nearly gutted him. This month. “Fuck.” he started as he reached out and grabbed the mime’s wrist and jerked it around, twisting his arm and yanking him out of balance. “This.” Kaden took his knife and stabbed his mime self in the back, straight through to the heart. Again. And again. Black tar oozing from the body as it started to bubble into a puddle of goo. “Stay dead this time,” he spat as the whole thing went up in a cloud of striped smoke. Fucking mimes. “You alright?” he turned to her and asked.

Celeste focused on the other mime as Kaden fought with himself… or at least the thing that looked like him. She didn’t fucking know. The waitress mime was a much easier target. Her moves weren’t nearly as quick and she didn’t look like she was taking the pain of being slammed back too well. Even though it hurt like hell, she lunged toward the other mime and put her knife in its chest, causing it to fall into another puddle of black ooze that smelled oddly like croissants. She let herself relax a bit when she saw Kaden’s mime doing the same thing. She pressed her hand against her thigh to try and stop the bleeding. “Just popped my stitches, but I’m okay. You weren’t lying though. You really do fight like an asshole,” she smirked through the pain, “I’ve got some first aid and suture stuff in my purse though. As much as I need another drink after that, we should probably get patched up first, you’re not looking so hot yourself.”  

[clumsydarknut]

Scripted Wishes

Chapter 4: Anima Extalia

Beginning | Previous | Next | Most Recent (That’s this! Hi!)

Lucy sighed, stretching and flopping back onto her bed. The dress rehearsal – if you could call it that – had only gone for maybe an hour and consisted mostly of the crew running a few of the more complicated dance scenes and rubbing out a couple bumps in the cues, none of which Loke seemed interested in helping her learn. The Loke she’d met that morning was nowhere to be found, instead replaced with a nervous, twitchy, hyper-focused stagehand who was determined to pretend she didn’t exist. He hadn’t said a word to her, even when she asked him things.

“Which one’s the left spot again?”

Point.

“So you play guitar?”

Nod.

“When do you think Natsu will be back?”

Shrug.

That hour had seemed like an eternity, dragged out second by second with anxious glances and awkward coughs. It wasn’t a total loss, though. She’d been able to see first-hand why Jellal got the praise that he did. Most of the cast of Anima Extalia were adult actors who seemed very experienced, and Jellal matched their skill note for note and step for step. They had done a battle scene featuring some crazy aerobatics – the choreographer had called it capoeira – where Jellal had pulled some off some incredible flips and twists. She was kind of bummed the show was sold out, and based on the way Loke behaved it wasn’t likely she could watch from the sound booth.

Guess I’ll just have to try out for something, she thought. Probably the next musical.

With nothing else to do, Lucy wiggled her phone out of her tight pockets and unlocked it with a few quick taps. She was used to most of the notifications – a few spam and school emails, a new video from a YouTuber she liked, and suggested pins for her astronomy board weren’t out of the ordinary. To her surprise and delight, however, all of those lined up beneath six new texts from Levy.

I saw Natsu drag you to the sound booth. Nothing kinky going on is there? ;)

omg i can’t believe i said that plz don’t show him

Lucy?

Oh right probs busy learning sound booth stuff k nevermind

We hope you’re here to stay, Lucy! Welcome to Fairy Tail!

The last text brought tears to her eyes. Beneath the welcome message was an awkwardly thrown together group selfie, with Levy holding the camera and doing her best mock-Instagram face. Jet and Droy crouched next to her, grinning, while Cana leaned on them, pointing a finger gun and winking. Erza stood over Levy with her soft smile, and Gray stood just next to her, arms crossed over his chest and giving the camera a smirk. In the corner, she could make out the boxy shape of the sound booth, a blur of pink and a blur of blonde just visible in the fuzzy background.

Lucy grinned and rubbed a tear from her cheek. She let her thumbs dance over her keyboard while she tried to think of a good response. They really like me, she sighed. I’m in Fairy Tail, and they like me!

Her phone gave a buzz and she squeaked as her hands jerked in surprise, making her lose her grip on the slender piece of technology; she juggled it awkwardly for a second before it landed flat on the pillow next to her. She scrambled onto her stomach and flipped the vibrating phone over, grinning at seeing Natsu’s profile picture humming on the screen. She slid her thumb across the icon and put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Heya Luce!”

Lucy winced at the sudden noise, moving it a little further from her head. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Are you coming to the show?” he sang. She could almost see his toothy grin in the tone of his voice.

“It’s sold out, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah,” Natsu replied, “but you’re in the company now! You can watch from the sound booth with me!”

Lucy bit her lip. “Is that okay? I wouldn’t want to get in your way – it’s already pretty cramped with just two people up there.”

“You won’t get in the way,” Natsu chuckled, “Right Loke?”

She felt her breath hitch. Though she heard a faint “uh, sure” wobble on the other end, she knew the red-head was most certainly not okay with that. She wasn’t particularly fond of the boy, and certainly not of his playboy kind, but… he seemed genuinely afraid of her, and for no reason that Lucy could deduce. She didn’t want to make things worse if she could avoid it.

“No, it’s okay, Natsu,” she replied, “I should probably rest up – I’m a little woozy from all the action yesterday and today.”

“Aww, c’mon Luce! Is it cuz you’re afraid Loke will make a move on ya?” She heard Loke splutter something frantically. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him use a single pick-up line!”

“No, no,” Lucy laughed uncomfortably, “I just really need some rest.”

“Oh, okay.” Natsu seemed disappointed, but only for a moment before perking right back up. “I found a great role for you, by the way! I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, yeah?”

She smiled. “Sounds good!”

“Yosh! Ja na!”

“Bye!”

The screen turned black and she sighed. I’ll just have to miss this show, I guess. She rolled onto her back and picked up her phone again, humming as she decided what to do. She opened Instagram on a whim and flicked down to a random spot in her feed. It was another video posted by the school, bearing a very familiar face and a very familiar tag. She grinned.

I’d prefer to hang with him in person, but I guess this Salamander will do.

---

Gajeel really wasn’t one for theatre.

It was cheesy, weird, and straight up uninteresting. People prancing around on stage in frilly costumes, pretending to be things they’re not? And set to music? No, not really his thing at all.

Well, maybe that was a lie. He was in the Cosplay Club, after all.

But there was no way he’d ever admit the two things had anything in common. Cosplay was an art – a dedication to replicating a character so perfectly that it seemed they had stepped out of the world of fiction and straight into reality. Cosplaying a character was the ultimate testament to how incredible that character and their world truly was, and thus, being a cosplayer came with the heavy responsibility of making sure that character was done justice. It wasn’t this… thing, that played out on the stage in front of him.

He couldn’t really complain, though. Not since he was here on a date.

A second date, at that.

He leaned back further into his seat, scrunching down into his gray hoodie and tilting his head to look at the girl next to him. Sue was cute. She was at least a head shorter than him, with darker, tanned skin and forest green hair cut off at her shoulders. Now she wore a beige blouse and a short black skirt, but Gajeel much preferred her usual attire – a blue shirt with ripped sleeves and green cargo pants, along with an oddly adorable purple jester’s hat. He’d asked her out casually last week and they’d gone four-wheeling; when she asked him in return, this had been her suggestion.

He almost said no, but he actually kind of liked her.

He sighed, settling in for the show. The overture had finished, as well as the opening number – a solo by a guy in some weird ninja gear. Gajeel was pretty sure he’d seen him around school hanging with the other Fairy Tail dorks, which was a little bit of a surprise. Then again, all Fairy Tail had to work with was Fairy Tail, so maybe giving the title role to a teenager was the best they could do. Either way, the number was somewhat foreboding and left Gajeel with prickly discomfort itching at the back of his neck.

Sue gasped as the scene changed in a flash of smoke and a sheen of light. The eerie set the ninja dude had occupied was replaced with a multi-tiered stage painted as floating isles on a backdrop of a beautiful blue sky. Gajeel gave a smirk as Sue turned back, smiling, to see if he was watching. As soon as she looked back to the show he scrunched further into his seat. Maybe I can pick up some cosplay design ideas at the very least.

The show was pretty strange, in Gajeel’s opinion. Half the characters seemed to be humans from some post-apocalyptic magic-science hybrid country, and the other half were… cats? Cat people? Cat angels? Whatever they were, at least they weren’t furries. He had to admit the half-cat costumes were very well done, blending prosthetics perfectly into skin and avoiding the whole mostly-naked-with-body-paint deal that so often killed good animal cosplays. The rigging they used for some of the aerobatics attached to very well disguised harnesses with pretty impressive angel wings that seemed to be high quality animatronics. They’d somehow managed to get realistic tails as well, which moved and swished about like real ones instead of dangling limply or sticking out at awkward angles. Pretty cool, that. He made a mental note to scare the technique out of one of the stagehands later.

The main protagonist appeared to be a bluish cat called Shiawase, who, of course, was in love with a girl. Typical of musicals. The girl was a beautiful white cat called Charlotte who seemed to be a princess of sorts. From what Gajeel could tell, the two were just trying to elope while the humans warred with the cat people and it really wasn’t going well.

“Gajeel,” Sue whispered suddenly, pointing to Shiawase, “Isn’t that… Gray?”

Gajeel did the air equivalent of a spit take as he suddenly recognized the blue cat, sitting forward in his seat to study him with a squint.

“Sure is,” he chuckled. “Damn that’s a lot of makeup. Too bad he still looks like a twat.”

Sue gave him a pout. “C’mon, Gajeel, be nice. He helped you with the kanji on one of your katanas, didn’t he?”

“Tch.” Gray had been helpful that one time, being from Japan and all, but he was still a Fairy Tail dork.

As the show went on the story got more complicated. If Gajeel had cared, he would have found himself torn on which side of the war to get behind. The cat angels were some sort of tyrannical deities or the like, in which case he favored the humans, but the humans were merciless executioners who slaughtered their own kind as readily as they slaughtered the cats. As badass as that was, he couldn’t really get behind that either. Not that he was emotionally invested or anything. If he had to pick, he’d probably go with the humans – mainly because of the large, bulky black cat who had betrayed his kind to fight alongside them. Gajeel really didn’t care much, but that character was pretty neat.

The ninja guy from the beginning – Mist Can or something – was turning out to be kind of cool too. He was revealed to be the exiled prince of the human nation, swooping in to save the imprisoned cat protagonists right before intermission, and Sue bubbled over him through the entire break. Gajeel would have preferred to go get a snack, but… she was pretty adorable when she got all excited like that, so he didn’t mind too much. He’d lost track of most of the plot at this point, but he was actually sort of enjoying himself. Kind of. Maybe.

The entr’acte ended with a very mournful piccolo solo and the lights rose on the remains of a blackened forest. Charred branches scraped and clawed at the orange sky. Smoke effects drifted up in billows and the crackling of flames hummed in the silence. This was a totally different feel from when the show had begun. After another moment, the three main protagonists rushed onto the stage.

“W-wait,” Charlotte stammered, stumbling “I… I need to rest.”

“We cannot stop now,” the ninja man replied. “We have to get as far from the city as we can. It’s only a matter of time before my people use the Dragon Cannon.”

“There must be something we can do!” Shiawase cried. “We can’t just run away!”

“There is not,” he growled. He turned to continue the escape, cloak swishing behind him.

Shiawase rose to his full height, gesturing back the way they came. “You would just abandon your people? Your friends? You would turn your back as hundreds of innocents are murdered?!”

The man whirled around and ripped his veil from his face, storming up to the blue cat and leering over him. “I do not do so lightly, Exceed! May I remind you that it is your people who began this war?! That your kind have used us as slaves for centuries?!”

“That doesn’t change your cowardice! You’re running away, Mystogan! Running from your throne and your duty! It was not my people who made you this way!”

The two continued to argue as a harp plinked a note and the lighting around Charlotte changed tones. A tear ran down her face as she sang a pitiful, “Please, stop…”

“Stop?” Mystogan laughed as a bass tremolo hummed beneath him. In a darker tone he sang back.

“It is not I who slaughtered thousands.

Who killed children!

Who drove their slaves to madness!”

Shiawase picked up the melody, gesturing to the burning landscape.

“Do you think this is what we wanted?

Do you think this is the life we crave?

No, your Highness.

You’re wrong.

We may be at fault, but we tried to stop it!

It is you

who ran away.”

Mystogan stormed forward. “You speak of things you know nothing about,” he spat back.

Shiawase hissed. “And you run from people who need you!”

Mystogan’s voice took on a tone of fury.

“There’s naught I can do,

she’s doomed them all.

My people are dying, Exceed.

Our kingdoms have slaughtered each other!”

“We can end that,” Shiawase sang more insistently,

“We can end it all!

We can’t just save ourselves

we have to do something!”

Mystogan took a deep breath. “All you will do is die.”

Shiawase leapt at Mystogan, letting loose a vicious snarl. Gajeel raised an eyebrow in surprise. Damn, Gray, that was startlingly realistic.

“Please, stop…” Charlotte sang again.

Mystogan pushed Shiawase away and removed his staff from his back.

“We can’t fight like this…” she sobbed.

Shiawase took a fighting stance and the invisible rigging lifted him off the stage.

“I said STOP!”

The outburst from the white cat reverberated in the theatre. Her labored breath was the only sound heard in the room as she got to her feet. She stepped up to the unmasked ninja and looked him straight in the eye.

“I am sorry.” She intoned softly.

“I could have stopped this.

I could have tried harder.

Mother wouldn’t listen.

Couldn’t listen.

The blood of your people is on my hands.

We have both made grave mistakes

and cost innocents their lives.

Millions may yet die and it will be our faults.”

She paused and sighed before clenching her fists. When she began again, her voice was made of fire.

“But how dare you!

How dare you just give up?!”

Mystogan stumbled back a step, mouth dropping open slightly. Charlotte didn’t back down.

“This is your country, isn’t it?

Can’t you do anything without your throne?

Though it was all a lie

didn’t you try to live your best life,

protect your people where you could?!

Why are you giving up?!”

The air around Charlotte began to shimmer and slowly her feet rose off the ground. Mystogan stared up at her in awe.

“So what if you’re weak!

You’re not alone!

When weak things work together

Strength is born!”

As if by magic, Charlotte’s wings grew and turned iridescent. Gajeel’s jaw actually dropped – he could not fathom how they managed that.

“My country will not be destroyed!

It is my homeland!

It’s not going anywhere!

I will die before I abandon it!

And I will die before I let you abandon yours!”

In a burst of radiance and glitter her wings spread wide. The backdrop turned from burning orange to a smattering of stars as luminescent mist rose from the stage. She looked into the distance beyond the audience as she belted the last lines of the powerful refrain.

“I won’t give up!

I will stop this all,

or I will die trying!”

The rigging pulled her out over the audience at a startling speed, her wings and gown sweeping through the air in a dazzling blaze of light. The walls of the theatre suddenly became the night sky as she soared past, sweeping higher and higher until finally she was out of sight. In the near silence a single violin held a harmonic quietly as attention turned back to the stage.

Shiawase met Mystogan’s gaze with a stern resolve. Hesitance flitted in the man’s eyes, and the cat extended his hand.

“Are you coming?”

The violin dwindled to nothing. Gajeel suddenly realized he was holding his breath.

With purpose, Mystogan took the hand.

Shiawase smirked. Suddenly, the bass of EDM rumbled from beneath the seats, setting up a slow build. A chill shot down Gajeel’s spine and he exchanged amazed looks with Sue.

“Hold on!” Shiawase hooked his arm under Mystogan’s and gripped his wrist with both hands. The call of distant bagpipes echoed in the room on top of the building music. The two men took a few steps back. Shiawase flicked his wings out wide. The music grew as the bagpipes seemed to get closer. Mystogan nodded. Shiawase smiled. Then, they sprinted and leapt off the stage.

The scoring roared into a variation on the main theme at twice the speed it had been sung; Shiawase took off over the crowd, carrying Mystogan higher in a maelstrom of light and fire. Gajeel’s mouth hung open in awe as the audience let out whoops and whistles. Mystogan’s not wearing a harness. Is Gray… legitimately carrying him?

The two made a few more circles of the audience, the walls of the theatre – which Gajeel had figured out were screens – providing a continuous backdrop that gave the illusion of distance. As the music came to a close, they landed back on the stage, now a broken battleground of a city.

This was where Gajeel suddenly felt very, very strange.

“Cougairis!” Mystogan shouted. The scene was a blur of motion, cats and humans in combat in every conceivable space. Actors had spawned miraculously in the aisles near the stage and on one of the side balconies. That combined with the flash of explosions and the clang of swords made the battlefield come to life. He was surprised he could still easily focus on the main characters despite the chaos.

“Cougairis! I need your help!” Mystogan called again.

The man in question was forced onto the stage, locked in combat. This was the cat that he’d liked. The panther held back three other cats with his giant blade, fighting for control as they pushed their swords against his own. With a roar that Gajeel was sure just had to be recorded, the giant cat shoved his adversaries backwards, two falling off the front of the stage and out of sight. The last stumbled back, gripping his side painfully before crumpling to the floor in a heap.

The black cat turned to face Mystogan, and Gajeel froze.

Over Cougairis’ left eye was a slash; a deep, thick, raw slash that hadn’t been there in the first act.

Gajeel’s head throbbed and his heart pounded, chest tightening until all he could manage was a raspy pant. The edges of his vision grayed. Wha…? What’s happening?

“Gajeel?” He heard Sue whisper his name, but it sounded as though it were a thousand miles away. “Gajeel, are you okay?”

He lifted his hands and felt them tremble wildly as his eyesight shrunk to a pinpoint. He could hardly see, hardly feel. His long, wild hair fell over his shoulders as he tried to shake away whatever was doing this to him. He could no longer register Sue tugging at his arm in worry.

What…? Is this one of those… panic attack things? He couldn’t think of any reason he would have a panic attack – he’d never had one before and didn’t have any traumatic experiences that he could think of. It can’t be a panic attack. Why would a play give me a panic attack?

He looked back to the stage. His tunnel vision centered back on Cougairis. He tried to look away, to any other character, any other piece of set, but the cat’s scarred face seemed to fill his view. That scar. That black fur. That white muzzle. Something seemed to be stabbing his brain at every angle and yet he could not tear away from that face. Suddenly the cat looked out into the audience – looked right at him. As if being shot through the heart his breath stopped, and somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he heard his own voice.

I’m taking you back to my guild one way or the other! And then, I’m going to make you my cat!

---

Gray watched from the shadows as Elfman strode to the front of the stage, their one and only child actor, Violet, perched on his shoulder. The audience roared and whistled as the large black cat set her down and she gave a small curtsey. Incredible, for a third grader, Gray smirked. I hope she sticks around.

The curtain call had always been one of Gray’s favorite parts of a show. Especially the final curtain call, on closing night. Molding yourself into another character was a huge, exhausting effort, and sometimes it was difficult to let go and become oneself again after rehearsal. The final curtain call, Gray felt, was an effective way to bridge the gap between being the character and living his own life. The audience, just for that final scene, now acknowledged you as both the role and the actor. In a way, it was a moment where he could be both people at once.

The music changed from Cougairis’ theme to that of Shiawase and Charlotte. Gray straightened his moss green, one-sided shawl over his bare shoulders and strode out from behind the curtains. From the other side, Charlotte – or perhaps now he should say Laurissa – strode out to meet him, a spring in her step as she took his hand. Renewed whistles and shouts rose from the house as they approached the edge of the apron, and just as they had done for every curtain call, Gray pulled her in for a kiss before they took their last bow. It had been her idea, of course, and the audience ate it up like free salsa at a Mexican restaurant. He and Laurissa weren’t romantically involved, but the reaction from the crowd was something they could both get behind.

The two parted as the music changed again, gesturing extravagantly as the star of the show took the spotlight. Mystogan rushed forward, twirling his staff several times before planting it solidly and whipping off his veil. The crowd screamed, applauding wildly and jumping to their feet. Gray clapped just as fiercely – not just for the performance, but for the grin spreading slowly over the blue-haired boy’s face. He knew that grin. The sage-prince Mystogan was gone; Jellal was back.

The company linked their hands and took their final bows as the music finished, and for the last time on that show, the curtain dropped.

“Excellent work, everyone!” Director Dreyar joined the scene from backstage, a toothy grin peeking from behind his mustache. “Very good indeed! A show well worth the effort! Head on home and we’ll strike the set tomorrow evening!”

“And don’t forget, the cast party is on Friday!” Mirajane added. The group bubbled into an energetic hum, matching the chatter of the audience just beyond the curtain. Hugs and claps on the back passed around along with laughter and the repetition of various inside jokes. Gray was happy – sometimes the afterglow of a performance was just as good as the show itself.

“Gray!” He twisted around to find the source of the call. Jellal waved him over. He grinned.

“Good to have you back, Jellal,” Gray replied. They did an elaborate fist-bump.

“It’s good to be back,” Jellal sighed. “At least, for a bit. King Oberon’s not a very complex character, so I won’t have to get into him for another couple weeks.”

“I’m sure Erza’s happy about that,” Gray nudged playfully.

Jellal blushed. “You could say that.”

“MYSTOGAN!” Gray turned just in time to dodge Elfman barreling through the crowd. The burly teen clapped Jellal hard on the back, and Jellal looked like he might’ve had the wind knocked out of him. “Your performance! OTOKO DA!”

“Thanks,” the blue-haired boy coughed. “You can call me Jellal now, though.”

“Oh, right,” Elfman chuckled. He turned to Gray. “Gray! You coming to Angie’s with us?”

Gray was tempted to say yes. He really wanted to. But he wasn’t sure if he’d make it that long.

“No, I gotta head home,” he replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Homework, y’know?”

Elfman gave him a funny look. “Homework? How? Today was literally the first day of school.”

Gray gulped. “Japanese stuff, y’know? Have to prep for tutoring.”

“Mmmm zannen da ne…” Elfman hummed.

“Yeah, that’s too bad,” Jellal continued. He didn’t look as convinced as Elfman was.

“Yeah…” Gray trailed off. He glanced between the two nervously, but tried to continue as if nothing were strange. “I should probably head out, actually. It’s pretty late and I really gotta get started.”

Jellal nodded, though his eyes still flickered with doubt. Gray gave a slight wave and sauntered away as confidently as he could, despite the knot in his stomach.

He made a short stop by the dressing room to pick up his things and drop off his shawl, his wings, and a few of the smaller accessories. The majority of his costume had been body paint and various prosthetics, so there wasn’t much he had to return to the company – there wasn’t much he had to wear on his way home, either. Body paint wasn’t a fun stain to get out of clothes, and he certainly didn’t want to scrub it out of his favorite jacket.

He made his way out the back to the rear parking lot, the night air chilling his bare chest. The cold didn’t bother him much – he was a hockey player, after all – but he was glad he’d come extra early to school to snag the closest spot. He clicked his key fob and the lights of his Chrysler 300 flashed. No one else had left yet; traffic was clear.

The ride home passed in a haze, as it always did. A turn here, a traffic circle there, the wonky tree on the end of the block followed by the gas station. He pulled into the dark driveway of his small, blocky house. No lights were on; his roommates were likely asleep. Good.

He locked his car by hand so it wouldn’t make a sound, then slipped inside as quickly and quietly as he could manage. A fan was on in the entryway, blowing softly against his bare chest. He cursed silently. His roommates wouldn’t have known better – he’d never said anything, never even gave a hint. At least, he was pretty sure he hadn’t. He wasn’t really sure if that was actually a good thing.

Just get to the shower, he thought. Get the paint off. You’ll be fine. Only a few more minutes.

He left the lights off as he made his way through the house, familiar enough with his home not to bump into anything in the dark. He figured most normal people could do that, could walk through their own house in the dark. This wasn’t strange. He was normal, too. Completely normal. Other people had sudden adrenaline jumps, right? It was nothing. Normal people occasionally had their heart start beating out of control, too, right? He was fine. He would be fine. This was normal.

Gray wasn’t sure he was being so stealthy anymore – blood pounded in his ears and he could hardly breathe, let alone tell if anyone else was awake. It was fine though. He shut the bathroom door behind him and ripped off the last of his prosthetics. It stung; the glue was particularly strong on his face. It didn’t matter though. If he was bleeding, he’d find out later. He couldn’t tell if he had cuts without the lights on.

His hands fumbled with the shower handles, shaking more than he would’ve liked. The water spattered for a moment before coming in a steady stream. Good. Warm. Paint. Take the paint off. He kicked off the last of his clothes. Steam. Hot water, sliding over his skin. Peeling away the paint. Not fast enough.

The blue skin of his character fell away, and left behind was only Gray.

Gray, and her.

[esonikofanfiction]

K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER IV: ROOK

"You should rest, Mr. Fushimi," The Captain offered.

"Like hell," came the reply. 

While all the ranks of Scepter 4 had been deployed from Headquarters and Akira Industries to the unlit realm of darkness that was Tokyo, Fushimi wasn't about to let the tediousness of sleep obstruct him from snatching his last opportunity to catch the aggravating Rei Kiyoka, the nemesis he loathed, the one with whom he shared an equal blame in causing recent events. The blackout, having thus deposited the city into darkness, cast it likewise into chaos, a chaos that the Blue King was then forced to sweep back into order, lest the city overrun itself. 

While, no doubt, the police were busy quelling violence springing up amongst the general populous, Scepter 4 had its hands full of criminality pertaining to the realm of the supernatural. Therefore, if Fushimi couldn't sleep on account of utter rage and a thirst for vengeance, it was a guarantee he would find no sense of peace when all of Tokyo lay a seething mass of lawlessness and turmoil. 

Fushimi's abrupt response to the Captain's thoughtful — albeit unrealistic — suggestion, was met with no resistance. The Captain made no effort to instruct him on the proper course of action he should take (or not take), nor to inquire as to what Fushimi planned to do instead. He said nothing, which Fushimi ascertained as an unofficial signal to continue in whatever manner he saw fit. It appeared that Munakata had some faith left in his favorite of the Blues, a sentiment that, earlier, Fushimi deemed as pointless and unnecessary. Only then did he discover (however faintly) that while faith was never needed for assurances of friendliness, it did have a way of making his job easier to do.

With this in mind, Fushimi ventured out alone into the dim of early morning, that unpredictable landscape to which, from every shadow in the city, all the little terrors had sprung, wreaking havoc in abundance, free from all restraint, until societal decorum should restore itself again. 

Fushimi had spent enough time in dismal situations both personally and — if one could speak thus of the likes of Homra — professionally to know what he was up against. He knew what sort of creatures lingered in the dark. He, himself, for all intents and purposes, was one of them. In places where no sense of light could penetrate, those unpredictabilities and dangers, held no power over him; nor at the very least, on his subconscious. Therefore not an ounce of fear prevailed itself upon him but the thought of Rei Kiyoka and the urge to bring her down.

Just one clue — abysmal and, in truth, perhaps a dead end — was left to him: the ‘circle’ was indeed complete, as Munakata said. The inner radius of Tachibana, Yotsuya and Yoyogi stations left some sleuthing still to do. 

If I'm going to find anything down there, he told himself, now's the time: while the city's in shambles. Wait too long, and whatever evidence is down there'll be long gone — that's even assuming something’s there to begin with. That psycho played me twice already. It's not like I'm holding my breath. 

Once again, Fushimi understood the sheer absurdity that came from his obsession; likewise he could see the paradox, grumbling at the actuality of it: I can't just leave a clue, no matter how pointless. What’s worse is that she knows it. 

If, by some odd chance, obsession and a hunch paid off, Fushimi had hoped to pick up Kiyoka's trail. But then, when are the odds ever reassuring? He fought inwardly, rubbing tired fingers over dreary, blood-shot eyes. Either it’ll lead me straight to her, or it'll be a shit waste of time, or both. Outwardly, he sighed. “Geez.”

Not long after, he was at Yoyogi Station, the most recent place in which he'd picked up Kiyoka's signal. In the dull, deserted station, he switched on his wrist device to reveal a holographic screen: a 3D map of Shizume’s metro system. However this one carried further into the deep labyrinth of windy sewers, tunnels, all those incomplete passageways beneath the subway lines. As it was, no modern map existed of the vast, elicit network known as the Shizume Underworld, nor would one have helped. Part of the mystery surrounding the Underworld was that it was constantly evolving.

Nevertheless, Fushimi had his ways of proctoring the data that he needed, layering what intel he could find until an adequate map had pieced itself together. Riddled still with gaps and forcing him, in sections, to maneuver blindly through, he carried on, unhindered in his search.

Silently, he trekked his way down concrete stairwells, past the service doors, scaling afterward, a rusted iron ladder, to the grime-filled sewers below: the upper echelons of the Underworld. 

It smelt of dank and thick precipitation, every little sound a harrowed echo running through an endless web of corridors. 

Approaching a massive cavern indiscernibly deep, he found another metal ladder that descended into it, seemingly to nowhere. Without a care, he ventured down, his holographic map his sole illumination in the dark. 

The ladder carried down about a hundred feet or so. When at last he reached the bottom, he was met with yet another set of stairs, at the end of which, passing through an arched walkway, he came upon a larger, surprisingly less disgusting chamber than the others; nor was it so life-suckingly dark: a vague inclination, he suspected. It was indeed a contrast to the overly decrepit halls left totally abandoned near the surface: A tactical decision, he divined. If it looks like no one's home, they won't be bothered by too many visitors — only those who come here looking for them. 

Further signs of life revealed themselves the deeper in he went. Observing the walls, he found them littered with graffiti, coded guiding signals, evidence of secret trysts: messages encrypted in the slang that only those within the Underworld could read. The damp, as well, had greatly eased itself; the smell of rot and filth had faded to a mild, somewhat cool scent of stone.

Fushimi had hypothesized that many of the Underworld had stolen street-side, no doubt anxious for a chance to enter the festivities. But surely not everyone, he figured, peering all around. The place had seemed unnervingly deserted up until then, an observation that had begun to make him wary. Even those astute in keeping themselves hidden from his eyes could not have managed to conceal a sense of presence that Fushimi would have naturally discerned, and yet he felt nothing, nothing whatsoever; until at once, he did. From utter emptiness to an all-invasive force, he sensed a set of eyes, distinct, pursuant of him and him alone, approaching from behind. 

Fushimi didn’t stop. Hiding his perception in his movements, he journeyed on as though he hadn't noticed. Meanwhile, his is slim daggers hidden neatly up his sleeves crept silently into his grasp.

He wound down more deserted halls and stairwells, following his makeshift map, thoroughly engrossed within the maze. The eyes followed.

After some time, sensing the inaction on the part of his pursuer, Fushimi began to feel a bit restless. Let’s see what you're made of, shall we? He decided. 

Abandoning his slow and steady course, he jerked himself around the nearest corner, feigning escape. 

He broke into a jog, weaving round one corner, then another. Then for the first time, he could hear the steps of his pursuer speeding up to match. Not just a pair of eyes now, are we?

Coming to a forked path, Fushimi didn’t hesitate. Picking one at random, he removed his wrist device and set it on the ground, the holographic map igniting him in dim electric hues. He quickly rose and crept his way down the adjacent fork, hiding in the shadows. 

A moment later, he could hear the steps of his assailant growing, thumping ever-louder before stopping altogether.

Peering from his hiding place, he saw the darkened silhouette of a somewhat slight figure, hooded, stooping to retrieve his wrist device. Silently, he crept out from the shadows, taking stance directly in the figure’s rear.

“Looking for me?” He said. Before another movement could be made, he had the figure pinned inside a power hold, a red-soaked dagger drawn below the neck.

His captive cried out in alarm. “Wait! Hold up! I didn’t mean anything, man! I swear!“

All at once the tension ceased. Fushimi slumped with thorough agitation. “You must be joking,” he said, spinning round the figure. Swiping back the hood, he found a grungy teenage boy, staring horrorstruck at him. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” He stumbled out, holding up his hands in a surrender pose. "I just thought I’d make an easy score, that’s all!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. Just an ordinary nobody.

“Look, man. Clearly I was wrong but –”

 “Damn right, you were,” Fushimi interrupted, releasing the boy with a shove. The boy gave back a slight, uncertain look. “Go,” Fushimi ordered. “And don’t come back.” 

The Underling perceived. He fumbled back a step, nodding furiously. “Y-you got it, man! I...thanks!” And with another a cautious glance back to Fushimi, he took off in a run, scurrying back the way he came. 

Fushimi ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling to himself. “Kids.”

After that, he met no other obstacles, nor could he detect the eyes of further Underdwellers lurking in the shadows far beyond. He was alone, almost uncomfortably so, and then he realized why. I must be getting close, he ascertained. Wherever there are aura-wielders, normal people tend to run and hide – If you could really call these people normal, he added, thinking back to the boy he nearly sliced up with his dagger by mistake. From the look of him, the boy was all of thirteen years of age, yet even then Fushimi saw in him a slithering creature doomed to a degrading life of darkness and betrayal, of filth in every aspect, of lying, cheating, stealing, of ignorance and carelessness to every other form of life beyond that which he knew; but above all, Fushimi saw death – not immediately perhaps, but slowly over time, a festering decay that eats the soul away until there’s nothing left to call a man human anymore. This particular thought brought to Fushimi’s mind all sorts of other things, things he had forgotten, things too close to home. Sensing this, he quickly pulled away as one might redirect himself on taking a wrong turn somewhere. Thereafter, he referred back to his wrist device, following his map as thoroughly as before, lest he start to wander once again throughout a set of mental halls more intricate than those inside the Underworld.

He guessed that he’d been wandering around for about an hour when he came across a thick metal door - the first he’d actually come to that wasn’t already open or partially broken in. On the contrary, this one seemed relatively new. Adding to suspicion, it was locked. Fushimi found this amusing. You’d be better off hanging up a sign that says, ‘Here we are,’ than putting something so obvious as a locked door here. Of course I’m going to go in.

Less than a minute and Fushimi had successfully cracked the keypad and trekked his way inside. 

Standing at the threshold, he peered into a room chock-full of blinking screens reflecting neon glimmers off the lenses of his glasses. "Now we're talking," he said, slipping inside. 

Near the end of the room, he found a small cluster of monitors and slid into the chair before them, pulling out a thin magnetic disk, which he plopped atop the drive. Instantly, he set to work, scanning lines of code, gathering what intel he could find.

As he did, a screen behind him sounded out a little ding. Spinning round, he found a small IM box open on the lower left-hand side. The chime had been an alert, signaling an incoming message. 

Sliding over to it, Fushimi skimmed its contents, subsequently pausing as he read the final line. 

“Kawaguchi Industries: Payment received from Aka Shinku Technologies - item K004: localization complete // algorithm link established.”

"A transaction?" He said, squinting. “So Kawaguchi Industries sold the algorithm? But that can't be right. The algorithm was stolen from Kawaguchi. How could they have sold something they didn't even have? And who the hell is Aka Shinku Technologies? Why do they need the algorithm? Or do they actually have it?" Skeptical, he read the message over. Localization complete. Algorithm link established. "But that would mean..." 

Scowling hard, his eyes roamed out to all the other monitors, their glowing screens replete with running lines of code. Subconsciously, he followed them, searching, thinking. Something didn't add up. 

"Wait a second," he said, checking them again. "The algorithm: it was never actually uploaded to any physical drive, was it? The reason why I haven't been able to find a location for it is because technically, it isn't anywhere. Or I guess, it's currently everywhere at once. It must still be swimming around in some sort of an online matrix. That way, it wouldn't need a facility to house itself, and you could feasibly tap into it from anywhere in the world and have instant, total access to it. And yet, its supernatural influence must be what's making it so impossible to find." Then all at once, it dawned on him. "So that's how she did it. The only way to keep it safe while letting it roam out there in the open is to tie it to an aura, a very unique aura, one that no-one else has. Therefore, the only person who can access it is - “

"The one who holds the aura," came a voice behind him. 

Fushimi whirled around, only to be taken all at once by supernatural arms that thrust him by the shoulders to the ground. His limbs as well were bound by glowing chains that suddenly appeared — conjured by two Strains who stood on either side. The more he tried to squirm, the more tightly they would bind themselves around him.

Their task complete, his attackers stepped apart, leaving him to fidget in his place. Struggling uncomfortably, he peered up to encounter Rei Kiyoka propped inside the doorway, her features calm, her arms crossed lazily before her. 

For a moment there was silence. Neither one of them moved. How long has she been here? Fushimi wondered. And how much did she hear?

"You'd be right, you know," Kiyoka informed him, stepping into the room. "As it is, you cannot access the algorithm. No one can. No one except me." 

Fushimi cocked his head, sending out a look of pure annoyance. "What you're saying doesn't make sense. What about Kawaguchi Industries?”

"What about them?" 

"You know damn well what. You said you created the Kawaguchi Algorithm, and yet you also stole it from them? Why would you steal something you supposedly created?" 

Kiyoka tapped her fingers on her chin, humming at the ceiling. ”Is it technically stealing if you're just taking back what’s already yours?" Peering back at him, her emerald eyes took on a neon glow from that of the screens.

"Kawaguchi stole it from me. I simply stole it back,” she explained. "Or rather, I stole all of Kawaguchi Industries in addition to my algorithm. Girl needs payback every now and again. So I guess you can say, I am now Kawaguchi Industries.”

Fushimi scoffed at her. ”You?”

"What? You don't believe that I would use the very algorithm I created to commandeer the company that stole it from me, so becoming the head of my own organization?”

"A corrupt organization, I'm sure,” he mumbled under his breath.

"But you're not so sure, are you?” She said, her eyes fixated on him, glowing, searching, eerily calculated. “I can see it,” she went on. “Something in your eyes that tells me, even in its smallest form, that you believe me. But of course, it's only natural that one creator recognizes another, you being the one who built the Yuishiki System after all." 

Fushimi scowled, taken aback. "How did you – ?"

“Admit it. You believe that I would create something as outrageous as the Kawaguchi Algorithm because it's something you yourself would create. You have already created it, in your own way. So why is it so hard to believe that someone else could ever be like you?”  

Blinking wide, Fushimi stared at her. Like me? He thought, suddenly speculative.

“But if you insist on being stubborn, go ahead, look into it," Kiyoka offered. "Take a peek inside Kawaguchi Industries. Plug it into your prize, the Yuishiki System, and see what you find." 

Hold on, He thought. Clearly she’d have a lot to gain from holding me captive. So why is she telling me all this? “Are you saying you plan to me go?” He said aloud. “Again?” 

Kiyoka shrugged. “I thought I made it clear - “

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You can’t kill me because He wouldn’t like it. But just who is this ‘He,’ you’re referring to? Anyone I know?”

Just then a little glimmer flashed across her eyes; or perhaps it was the haze from all the screens. Either way, Fushimi caught it, and Kiyoka blinked away, almost self-consciously.

“So you let me go,” Fushimi said, ”And in the meantime, you just get to disappear, am I right? While you send me off on another wild goose chase, off you go scot free." He shook his head. “I don't think so. I'm going to find out what it is you’re planning, and when I do, I will stop you. You don't get to be the one left standing at the end of this.”

“And I suppose you believe that you deserve that right instead?" Kiyoka asked, recovering her playful attitude.

"No one deserves that right," he shot back. "Besides, simply being the one left standing doesn't necessarily mean that I've beaten you. You will have tried, failed, and lost, all on your own. And what do I get? Some pathetic sense of victory that doesn't mean shit. That's not winning. The rules of this world don't allow us the luxury of winning. That's why I change the rules. If I'm not the one left standing, it's because I will have made sure that you're the one to fall, even if it means tying a noose around both our necks. I'll take you down with me if I have to.”

Kiyoka clicked her tongue. ”What a stupid way to go." 

"For you, maybe. But not for me. Because unlike you, driven down against your will, I will have chosen for myself, a decision you will have failed to take away from me. As it happens, I will be the one who inevitably strips you of that right. That’s when I’ll know that I’ve won: when I’ve taken everything from you, even your ability to choose.”

At this, Kiyoka paused, nodding slowly. ”I see.” Eyeing a chair beside her, she reached her fingers out, fiddling the upholstery. “And are you so certain that I’ve not already made my choice? That I've not already found the path I wish to take down into hell, and that this isn't just my way of carrying it out?" 

Gradually, she turned to look at him, a darkness in her eye. 

“Perhaps this noose around my neck has already been tied, but it was I who tied it there; I who am now counting on you to let go of the other end, to give the final push. And for that, I can’t have you diving in head first before it’s time.”

”What are you saying?” Fushimi asked. “That you actually want me to kill you?" 

“Kill me?” She chuckled sharply. Then her tone fell flat. “If only it were that easy. No, what I’m saying is this: that if I can't rely on you, Saruhiko Fushimi, then what really is the point of you?” All at once her playfulness subsided, as though it were a mask, finally stripped away. Not even in her eyes did he detect a sense of cunning anymore. As it was, her bluntness, almost human in simplicity and earnestness, had thrown him off completely. 

“The hell?” He said in actual bewilderment. 

Kiyoka didn’t stop. “You know, it would be one thing if you were simply unreliable. But after what you just said — all that blind talk of taking me down with you — you're not even that, are you? You're worse. Because you still can't even bring yourself to figure out why you should be relied upon, and why it is you can’t be. You’re too busy obsessing over the wrong things to even notice the bigger picture.” She shook her head slowly. “Someone with that big of a propensity for oversight is nothing more than a waste of good intellect – not even useful enough to be used.” She made a turn for the door and paused, her voice weighed down, strained. “What a disappointment.” Then with a tired flick of her hand, signaling her men, she exited the room without another word.

Feeling oddly anxious, Fushimi opened his mouth to stop her. Her words, he found, had left a sinking feeling in his chest. Not that he quite figured what to say to make her stay, only that by letting her continue, to watch her walk away, out his sight, he’d somehow lose her further to the darkness, one that no one else could see nor venture through but her. Somehow, this unnerved him, and prompted him to call her back; yet as he did, the aura-chain that bound him rung itself more thoroughly around him, burning him as would a red-hot iron pressed against his skin. He let out an instant cry, mainly from surprise, and that’s when he heard it: the item he'd been waiting on: the metal disk he placed atop the computer drive let out its own alarm. 

Sudden action flooded into his face. With a rising grunt, he forced his limbs against the chains, unleashing both his auras in a two-fold blast that overwhelmed his captors, obliterating them, the chains, as well as half the computer room; more importantly, the evidence that he had seen regarding Aka Shinzu Technologies, information he was then certain Rei Kiyoka had no knowledge of. For once, he’d gained the upper hand.

Snatching up the disk, he ducked out through the newly blasted wall, only to discover a small army of aura-wielders in the presence of Rei Kiyoka, turned to witness the commotion.

For but an instant, their eyes met. Something of alarm — no; excitement, maybe? — carried in Rei Kiyoka’s gaze, and then she gave the order and her followers unleashed themselves. 

Fushimi held a lasting glance on Kiyoka, observing her, then drew his saber outward in a flourish of his power, and vanished into the darkness.

He could still hear the shouts of Kiyoka issuing her orders to pursue, even when he was certain of escape, and it was several more moments before the final hints of aura flashes dwindled away behind him.

At last, he gained the fresh clean air and early rays of dawn atop the surface, though feeling somewhat strange, empty, as though inside the darkness of the Underworld, where Rei Kiyoka lingered, a part of him belonged: where the fierceness of the light forever failed to penetrate.

Exhaustedly, he stared up at the sky, sensed a gust of wind and closed his eyes against it, letting out a long, unhindered sigh.

Reflecting on Rei Kiyoka’s words, everything about her, everything that happened, none of it made sense. She won’t kill me; she won’t take me hostage; she knows I’m powerful enough, and that those chains would never have held me had I really wanted to escape. She could have used her own aura to stop me, but she didn’t. She let me go. But she wanted me — no, she wanted them to think she did everything she could. 

Faced then with the unavoidable truth, he caved. She’s right, I’ve been obsessing over the wrong thing. There’s something more to it. I just can’t seem to see it yet. And that’s the thing: I do actually believe her, or rather, I believe that everything she’s telling me is just one piece of the puzzle - only half the truth. Before, I mistook that for lies, but now I get it. Only half a truth doesn’t necessarily make it a lie. It just means there’s more that needs to be told. And obviously she has a reason for not telling me, which makes her dangerous. I just have to figure out the rest of the puzzle. Only then will I be able to…

Again, he sighed, uncommonly troubled. 

Opening his eyes, staring at the yellow morning glow, he hailed the Captain on the comms. 

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you, Mr. Fushimi," the Captain answered. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Yes. No. Hell, I have no idea, he thought. Why does that question seem so hard to answer right now? Therefore, instead, he simply asked, “What do you know about an Aka Shinku Technologies, Captain?”

There was a slight pause. ”Very little, I'm afraid. Merely that it is an organization in name only, but that below the surface lies a collection of supernatural beings with, shall we say, questionable motives."

"You could just say 'terror organization,’ Captain."

"Very well, then. From what I’ve gathered, their primary focus lies in exercising supernatural dominance over those they deem as lesser or sub-standard.”

“Sub-standard? You mean regular humans?”

“Precisely. They believe supernatural beings should be at the forefront of society. Therefore, they employ certain criminal tactics centered on aggression so as to bring about fear, and ultimately submission to that same dominance they believe is owed to them. But why do you ask? What is their affiliation with this case?”

"I believe Rei Kiyoka is working with them. Somehow the algorithm's involved, too, but..." 

"But what?" 

“I’m not really sure. It could be just a feeling but…whatever it is she's planning, and whatever she’s about to do…I think she wants me to stop her.”

(Chapter III: Hakkā // Chapter V: Allegiance)

(K:Tales of Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)

[purplesurveys]

592

Let's start off with some basics. Cool, I haven’t started off a survey with basics in a while. What's your name? Robyn, but y’all who have stuck around for a while know that already. How old are you? 21. What's your hair and eye color? Hair’s black, eye color’s dark brown/black-ish. How tall are you? I’m pretty certain I’m 5′1. What's your relationship status? In one. Alright, enough of that. Let's move on to the random shit.

What's your favorite song? Uhhh at the moment it’s Sam Smith’s cover of Donna Summer’s I Feel Love. They did their own twist to it and it sounds incredible. It would probably take a bit to get used to in 2019, but once you warm up to the sound, the cover is just brilliant. What does that song mean? What is the message behind it? It’s a disco song, the lyrics just repeat for three straight minutes and is not supposed to be any deeper than ‘I feel love.’ Is it your favorite because you relate to it, or do you just like the beat? I love the beat, the sound, and what Sam offered to the song. Have any pets? If so, what are they and what's their names? Yes, I have a cute Santa Claus-outfit-wearing dog at the moment :)) His name is Kimi. Have you ever met your idol? I have never met Kristen Stewart, AJ Lee, Hayley Williams, nor Beyoncé. And I’d most likely pass even if there was a chance to meet any of them; I’m too afraid that I’d mess up in front of them. If so, were they nice or were they kind of an ass? What's your favorite method of gaming? (PC, Xbox, Playstation, etc) I don’t play a lot myself but I do enjoy watching games on Nintendo or Playstation consoles. If you're in college, what's your major and why did you pick it? I’m in journalism. I picked it because I thought it’s what I wanted to pursue back in high school. I was good at writing and loved telling stories, the obvious path was towards journ so I don’t hate myself or regret picking such a major. But through the years I’ve learned to hate it more and more though – my interests lie within public relations and advertising now, a complete 180 from the world of journalism. How're you doing today? A little too early to be asking that, it’s 7:43 in the morning. I do feel quite nice because classes ended up being suspended today due to the incoming typhoon, but otherwise it’s just mostly meh for now. What color are your bedroom walls? They’re white. Describe your favorite shirt. Right now my favorite shirt is a halter tank top I got for ₱50 at a small tiangge booth in Feliz, hahaha. I just wish I could wear it everyday without anyone judging because I look cute in it. Use this space to tell someone off. I don’t think anyone I know deserves that at the moment. What's your view on smart watches? Cool or a waste of money? Waste of money, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting one lmao. What is one poster that you have hanging on your bedroom wall of? I still have that damn poster of Nam Joo Hyuk up near my bed lol. I haven’t seen a k-drama since 2017, but I’m just too lazy to take it down. How many times have you moved in your life? That I can remember? Two. I think we moved a couple times more when I was an infant. If you moved, do you like where you are now better than where you were? It’s definitely more peaceful, quiet, and much much cleaner in our house; but there are days where I still miss having my cousins and grandma under the same roof. What's your favorite color and why? Pastel pink. It’s pleasant to the eyes and looks good on most stuff. My wallet,  purse, main school notebook, one of my highlighters, my phone case, clipboard, backpack, and shoulder bag are all that color hahahaha Do you have a calendar? If so, what's the theme? I have one on my phone; I don’t really need a physical one. No theme because I don’t think my phone allows me to customize my calendar anyway. Have any famous person's autographs? I have AJ’s from a signed poster that I bought like 5-6 years ago from WWEShop. Was never actually sure if she actually signed it but it’s always easier to believe that. Do you draw well? That’s the worst thing I can do, or try to do at that. What type of cell phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8. Should you be doing anything else right now or are you just bored? I am actually supposed to be working on final requirements, but they’re all for my newspaper layout class and I cannot be ASSED to open Adobe InDesign and work on some dumb layout stuff right now. If you're in school/college, what's your favorite subject and why? This semester my favorite class is Kasaysayan 117, or Social History of the Philippines (‘Kasaysayan’ means history in Filipino). Social history veers away from the typical elite/heroes/war/colonization/what have you narratives that history books typically go with, and focuses instead on the developments of, say, gender, education, illnesses, and religion in the country. It basically focuses on the everyday life of the ordinary citizen, which I find more interesting and relatable than war stories. I certainly wish I can take this class more than once. Are you a cat or a dog person? Why? Dog person. They’re friendly and sweet and silly and will always stay by your side, which I love. I have never been able to connect with cats and finally at one point, trying just tired me out completely lmao HISS at me then, sis Tell me about the plot of your favorite book. Not my favorite, but definitely a memorable one – Scarlett O’Hara is in love with some dude named Leslie who’s married to his first cousin. Scarlett ends up gunning after him for a good chunk of time, even as she marries Rich Guy Rhett Butler and has a kid with him. Eventually [spoiler] kid dies and Rhett realizes Scarlett never cared for her just as Scarlett realizes she loves Rhett. Not a good ending for Scarlett. Bunch of people die. Oh and all of this takes place during the Civil War. Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses. I flinch at the idea of putting anything anywhere near my eye, so contacts are a no-no for me. What do you think about horror movies? It’s a hit or miss most of the time. Great genre with some even greater hits, though. If you love them (I do), what's your favorite? Misery or The Shining. Cliché picks, but I personally enjoyed both so why not. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I dunno about ‘cool’ but I got Gabie a Hydro Flask water bottle and I’m SO excited for her to get it because she’s always been envious of mine and she’s always talking about wanting one because water tastes so crisp and fresh from those bottles. It’s kind of a bittersweet story for me though – I lost my own Hydro Flask a day after I got hers. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Do you do Black Friday shopping or wait for Cyber Monday? I do neither of those things because I’m from the Philippines and we have no idea what those holidays(?) mean. Have any mental illnesses? I’m sure I do, I just have never gotten myself checked. What's your favorite word and why? I’m not really obsessed with any right now. What is the most expensive thing you own, and what is it? It’s either my laptop or my phone...I’m not sure how much they were; my parents paid for both. Although I’m guessing the phone cost more because it was the newest in the iPhone line at the time of their purchase. Did you buy that item yourself? Hahahaha, nope. Super grateful to my parents for getting it for me despite knowing I have the tendency to crack and break all the phones I own. This current one is staying strong, though! Where do you work and what is your postion? I don’t have a job yet but I’m part of two organizations in college, if that counts. I’m the vice president for external affairs in my journalism org and associate editor in our graduating batch’s yearbook club. How often do you cuss? Probably once every few hours? Definitely way less than when I was an angsty, feisty, annoying little teenager lmao. What type of car do you drive, if any? I have a Mitsubishi Mirage hatchback. Are you happy with it? If no, what's your dream car? I’m happy with it; it’s small, convenient, and easy to drive. My dream car is something just as small but a little more fancy, so I’m wishing for a Mini haha. Do you have a lot of social media accounts? Which ones? Nah I just have three main ones – Twitter, Facebook, and this Tumblr. I’ve made accounts on other apps like Snapchat and Instagram, but I stopped using the former and I never use the latter. What is your favorite genre of music? I don’t have one. Does your family have holiday traditions? If so, what are they? It’s not a unique tradition but we go to my grand-aunt’s house and we do Monito-Monita, which is essentially a Filipino Secret Santa. We fix ourselves in a circle and when you’re It, you have to dance/walk/prance around with your gift while everyone sings the monito-monita song (which I’m too lazy to expound on, lol). When the song ends, you have to hand your ‘baby’ their gift. If you're in a relationship, are you happy with it? Yes. How long have you been with your significant other? Three years, but that’ll change to four by February. Do you like psychology? (It's my college major). I love it. It’s one of my the-one-that-got-away courses, along with history. I wanted to have a glimpse of psych by taking a psychology elective once, but I got a bad prof and never got in the mood to take another elective again, so that’s a shame. What is something your state is popularly known for? We don’t have states, we just have provinces and cities. Antipolo is known for their delicacies such as kasoy, suman, and latik. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what's the coolest thing you made? Kind of? I don’t like anything I have to sculpt or mold myself; but lately I’ve been into paint-by-number kits and I asked Gab to get me a couple of them as a Christmas gift. It’ll help with my seasonal depression, so I’m excited to be preoccupied during the holiday break. Do you watch sports or do you think they're overrated? I don’t think they’re overrated. I just don’t find most of them interesting to watch. What's one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn't deserve to? TROLLS Do you straighten your hair? No. Ever dyed your hair a color that isn't natural? (blue, pink, etc) I haven’t dyed it at all. How's your relationship with your parents? We have a best friends-type of relationship in that we banter and not opposed to insulting each other and cursing in front of one another, but I don’t let them know me any deeper than surface-level. The angst and trauma I developed due to my mom being horrid to me when I was younger permanently kept me from ever desiring a soft, emotional, intimate bond with her. And as for my dad, well he’s worked overseas all my life and I only get to see him once or twice a year, so it’s easy to understand why I have not developed a super super SUPER close bond with him as well. Do you still live with them or do you have your own house? I live with them but I’d love to have my own place soon. What's something you are currently saving money for to buy? More Christmas gifts for loved ones. I’ve only bought gifts for my girlfriend so far. Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? I vape, but don’t smoke. Gab gave me her vape pen which is from a brand named Smok, because she soon learned after vaping a few times that she’s asthmatic. :( I do get disposable vape pens from Vedfun which I honestly prefer more, though. Ever done drugs? Other than painkillers, no. Tell me one of your worst habits. Letting myself go hungry because I’m a little obsessed with the thought of saving money. What's a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I have to lock my car doors three times in a row before I feel entirely secure. If you game, what type of headset do you use? What type of computer do you own, and do you like it? I have a Macbook Air, and I love it. What's the thing that annoys you the most? Metro Manila traffic. What brand of TV do you have? All of our TVs are Samsung, I think. Are you excited for Christmas? (It's December 1st today when I made this) I can take it or leave it. Tell me about your favorite vacation you've taken. Sagada x Baguio last 2014. I was hurting a lot that time because of recent shitty events that all happened to me, but the climate, the nature, and the peace and quiet allowed me to recharge and let everything out. It helped that there was a movie that had just come out then called That Thing Called Tadhana (Fate) wherein the lead girl was going through the same stuff I did, then she took a bus trip to Sagada, stood on top of a cliff, and yelled and cried her heart out. I set out to do the same (I didn’t scream though, just cry haha) and it was a good release. I’ll never forget that trip because I had never been more in touch with myself and allowed myself to be that raw until that week.

Tell me something cool about yourself. [continued all the way from 7 AM because I just got lazy for the rest of the morning. It’s now 4:41 PM.] Anyone outside of pro wrestling will probably not find this cool but I’ve been acknowledged by all three of my all-time favorite female figures in the industry (retweeted by AJ Lee, followed by Natalya, greeted happy birthday by Stephanie McMahon). All three are memories I’ll cherish forever. Did/do you get good grades in school/college? Not so much in grade school, because I was admittedly irresponsible and my elders didn’t pay much attention to my study habits, either. I got better in high school, but I still made sure not to tire myself out because I knew the grades I’d get then literally wouldn’t matter in college. Now that I’m in college and for once the grades DO matter, I’m working 15 times as hard and getting good grades throughout. What's your ringtone on your phone? They’re all ringtones provided by Apple. What's your favorite store to shop in? For clothes, independent stores would do. They can sell a tank top for ₱50 (1 USD) that I would otherwise find in H&M for like, ₱299 (6 USD) lmao. If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would buy and why? I’d pay off my parents’ various purchases like our house and cars so that the guilt doesn’t eat me up when I treat myself. How long have you had a Bzoink account? I don’t have a Bzoink account, but I’ve been using it to find surveys since 2008. My survey habit started veeeeery early, y’all.

Ever been to Field of Screams? If so, what's your favorite attraction? I have not. I’m not even sure I know what that is. Do you own a Polaroid camera? I don’t. Do you have hardwood floor in your room or carpet? Hardwood. It's a Saturday night, what are you typically doing? Taking surveys or catching up with work. Do you have a lot of friends or do you not have any at all? I have a lot, fortunately. College taught me to open up my circle. What's your all time favorite movie and why? Two for the Road. It just clicks with me. Audrey and Albert very both very passionate in their roles and their tandem worked amazingly to bring the story to life.

How many blankets do you sleep with at night? Just one. What's the last TV show you watched? Did you enjoy it? Queer Eye; I made Gab watch the Jones Bar-B-Q episode which is usually cited as one of the best of the series. I loved watching it the second time. Do you prefer cable TV or do you use Netflix? I use Netflix; I haven’t tuned in to cable TV for a good 4-5 years maybe. What is your dream job and why? Working somewhere in WWE. That company’s been a part of my life for...welp, my whole life. A part of me just feels as though I HAVE to end up there. Do you think you would be a good therapist? I know I’m a good listener and that I can read body language and signals quite well, but I don’t think I’d want people to dump their burdens and rants on me. What's your favorite brand of clothing? H&M. Did you like this survey? Sure!

[honeychilialligator]

The Comfort of Strangers

Gabe's POV

The first time I saw her, it was a Saturday - most likely in the middle of September, nine months ago in a public library, four blocks away from the building that I once inhabited.

Of all things to note, the initial thing that would flash was the day - always the same day. She probably wore an average sweater, and dark skinny jeans - a style I eventually noticed. And even without the glasses, I always remembered her even back then as nerdy, introverted and of course, bookish.

It was a school research that motivated me to visit such a weary place that I couldn't imagine ever stopping-over - not because I was allergic to studying (if anything, I don't mind reading books) but because the place in itself was a bore to look at. The library was Egypt's pyramid. Historical. Old. Ancient. Pick your term. There's a helpful thesaurus inside to help you in such a predicament.

Then again, the same reason has urged me to step inside the old-fashioned site. Mr. Lanburton (not sure if I spelled his name accurately), our history teacher, had loaded us a big stack of dreadful tasks to fulfill at the end of the weekend. Surprisingly so, my memory has reclaimed the thoughts of my heavy homework, to which my class was asked to recollect important historical terms of a long list of nearby places in the vicinity of our humble locale.

It was also the first time my best friend, Google, has disappointed me terribly for failing to deliver an automatic answer to my difficulties (Apparently it was not one of those "God bless the internet" days). Unfortunately our locality and its small populace were a little unfit for specific and in-depth information about what Mr. Lanburton had required.

As tempting as it was to abandon the task at hand, my grades in that semester was not as cooperative. It took me a week to recover on an illness that got me hospitalized for days and the teachers were not very considerate. The only option left for me was to take the route to the oldest public library in town and start a customary way of active research.

The heavy creak brought from the antique wooden door entrance unsurprisingly attracted too much attention in an almost-deserted library. I met her stare as she lifted her gaze - our first contact. Yet at that moment it seemed so ordinary - so unappreciated. I couldn't recall clearly what book she was reading or how she looked at me, no matter how hard I try, but I guess that's just how I will always remember her: the girl who always has her face trained on books in the old library.

At the end of the day I was happy for having the task lifted off of my shoulders three days before the original submission, and I also recalled that my parents treated me and my four-year old little sister in an expensive restaurant outside town. My mother bought me a black jacket that I remembered wearing the next day. That specific Saturday was special in ways that I could only fully realize now.

Visits to the library were followed by more when our history teacher realized how effective it was (for him) to leave advanced schoolwork for a progressive study on our next topics. More items were given that I had to reserve extra time to the library to fulfill the task every week. The second and third time I stayed in the public library, I sat three chairs away from her and maintained the same position for the week because it was nearest to the air conditioner and I was rather comfortable. The quiet girl maintained hers just the same. Each time we were near each other I was more intrigued about the novels she was reading and how she seemed to be unfazed to her dusty surroundings with a different book each time I came. By my fifth visit, I was able to comprehend a clearer assessment on her features when I snuck in a slight glance.

Evergreen - like spring. That's how I remembered her full bright eyes. It seemed enchanting now the more I think about it, as only a few people could possess such unique detail. Her cheeks are always flushed - it must have something to do with the cold atmosphere (but later, I realized she was always like that). Her slightly-curly hazel brown hair, she always secured in a careless bun. It was curiosity that compelled me to her - a teenage girl my age who would just spend most of her time reading classic novels in the stinky dinosaur-age public library instead of going shopping or doing whatever sassy teenage girls do. Does she even go to school? Is she constantly alone if she doesn't have anyone to hang-out with? Where does she live anyway? What's in these books -these novels that got her hooked in this place? Why can't she just borrow them and bring them home to read? Why here where everything is so grubby and old, I have to stop myself from sneezing when I get too close on a dictionary?

It started as a thought, which intrigued me, and then it changed into a deep curiosity that later became a sudden interest. She was not from my university, that's for sure. I would have known. I never bothered to ask because I was uncertain on her response. It was not my forte, conversing with the opposite gender. Back then I had a mental overview on how my conversation with her would be like. I just couldn't gather enough courage to start even a casual conversation.

Scanning through old textbooks, I'd sneak in a little look at her - I don't know why I did - I always felt like even through her solemn focus on the material she was reading, I've always imagined her noticing every slight glance I pass on to her. Having her around three chairs away from me every Saturday afternoon in the library eventually turned into something natural - like a schoolmate a table away from me in our usual place in the cafeteria. Without even speaking, I guess our positions were a mutual contract. Without even knowing it, my visits and these weekly tasks no longer bothered me as much as it did at first.

Finally, I devised a plan to get her attention (it didn't sound as creepy when I thought about it before). This peculiar bookworm returns the books to its shelf and leaves the place fifteen minutes less before I could finish my research homework. On a particular Saturday in October, I took notice of the exact bookshelf location she left her novel before she stepped out of the library. Coincidentally Mr. Lanburton was kind enough to lessen our burden with simple common terms to hunt and I was able to finish the task earlier than most. I took the book out of the bookshelf five minutes after she left. I tried considering asking the elderly librarian about the name of the girl (surely she knew about her only customer in ghost town's library) but for some reason I didn't pursue it.

The moment I glanced at the cover of the book I remembered thinking: "Nicholas Sparks. Well what do you know? I guess she is a romantic at heart."

"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks.

Reading the synopsis was my last pull to borrowing the book and bringing it home. Alas, I have also read some of his passionate collections but it was my first to encounter this specific book. I started reading that night - continued and finished it the next day. It was compelling and I was hooked. I thought about how she could be feeling the same emotions that I was sensing as I read through Spark's masterpiece, and when I am overcome with extreme emotions in the climax of the plot, I remembered how I caught her wrinkle her nose as she read through all those literary pieces as if she was dismayed by the outcome, or how a trace of a smile would form on her delicate lips for a moment at the remaining pages of her novels; all the emotions rushing out of her when she reads - I realize how she understood all kinds of sentiments organized by the author or how she paints the characters out of her beautiful imagination.

For a regular guy who sees life as a featureless routine, she was remarkable.

The next Saturday, there were no tasks to accomplish, but I returned the book to the library. When I arrived, the girl was already sitting with a different (probably about another romance) book on our usual table as I had expected. I felt her eyes follow me when I returned the book that she read. After doing so, I returned to my usual chair, took a random book on her usual bookshelf and pretended to read it - hoping she would notice me again.

The bookworm cleared her throat. Twice (in the first, I was a little too overwhelmed to hear her). "Excuse me."

"Yes?" I must have smiled like a fool back then.

"Hi," she started nervously. "I just couldn't help wondering: what genre do you usually prefer? I mean if you don't mind." Wait, British accent?

The question initially confused me, but it made me more than glad to hear her talk. I answered her in way that might have ineffectually and failingly conceal my tense and awkward self. "I-I guess I'm more into Action, Sci-Fi. Those kinds of stuff." (Not really). "And probably a little romance would do." (A guy reading a romance novel? Can't you get any weirder? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid).

"I see," she spoke out the words slowly. "Action, huh? Specifically of Sylvia Day's?"

Her tone had demanded to alert me, as I saw her look curiously on the book on my hand. I quickly turned to the cover.

"Bared to You" by Sylvia Day.

Oh.

I slammed the book shut, not daring to behold a scene of its twisted plot. Funny, how I must have looked like to her: A perverted little maniac.

That's when I heard her laugh. I was unprepared for my reaction to the most potent weapon this girl had in her arsenal - a real genuine laugh that reverberated from inside her. It was too infectious for me to resist, and on an unguarded instant, I joined in.

Of course, the librarian shushed us out of it.

"I'm sorry," she blushed - adding more color to her flushed face, and apologized to the wrinkly old librarian.

"Look, I wasn't really reading it, I mean - "(What am I getting myself into?) "I was just scan- " The girl stifled a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...just..."(Seriously dude, stop embarrassing yourself!)

"I'm Eveline," she offered, a bright and foreign (but genuine) smile on her face and an extended hand. "You are?"

A for being attentive. I just couldn't stop embarrassing myself, could I?

"Gabriel, 'Gabe' for short" I shook her soft, dainty hand. "Nice to (finally) meet you."

"Sorry if I disturbed you." Another short laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't really reading it," I shrugged.

"I can tell," Eveline smiled - a sparkle on her emerald eyes. "I mean I noticed you were so out of it. I didn't mean to appear so despicable."

"It's okay, really. I don't usually read novels - especially this kind."

"You're usually on research and textbooks," she added gently, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of her noticing me.

"Schoolwork," I supplied. "My history teacher keeps giving us a big load of homework every weekend."

"Ah, I see," she nodded in understanding. I waited for her to elaborate about her high school life or at least relate to me how her history teacher could be the same terror professor, but she didn't and our conversation fell short.

"Are you always hanging around here?" I probed further.

"Only on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays," Eve caught a stray hair and pushed it on her ear.

"Always on the same schedule?"

She nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

Her enigmatic stance put me in place and I decided not to push my luck on her privacy. "Cool."

I looked at my wristwatch and realized that I was late for my sister's little rehearsal, knowing I had to pick her up after. "It was really great to see you, but I'm done with my work here and I need to fetch my sister out of ballet class." As much as I still want to hang around...

"I understand."

"So, next Saturday then?" I said a little too hopefully.

"Of course," she smiled her gentle smile.

That night I lay on my cozy bed thinking about our hilarious - though a little ungainly, dialogue. Eveline. Witty, cute, and bashful Eveline. Even when I decided to shut my eyes, I could see a picture of her perky face in her natural glow and hear the sound of her symphonic laugh. Since that day, thoughts of her became a frequent visitor and Saturday wasn't just any ordinary Saturday. Like a refreshing holiday, I was looking forward to it.

On our next meeting, I wore a navy sweatshirt and khaki shorts - turning my charm on like a light switch untouched for decades. I smiled brightly even before I could enter the library, wanting to match hers and hoping she'd return it. Eveline would be inside, reading a romantic novel, and I hope my smile would greet her. She was still selecting a book when I came in; her face lit up as she mouthed "Hello."

Instead of going my way to proceed on my research, I watched her pick a book or two in the shelf before taking my own set of textbooks to copy information. As I derived coherent notes on my notebook, I clucked my tongue twice in a playful way of getting her attention. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance to my direction but I pretended to be so focused on my homework. I repeated it again, louder this time to also get the old librarian's awareness. The withered old woman looked around and turned on our table, confused at my mock innocence. She shrugged a little and went back on arranging the filthy pile of old archives. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eveline smile in amusement even without her looking at me.

I purposely sped up taking down notes for research in order to catch up on Eveline on her way home. I asked permission to accompany her and I was happy that she was fine with it. She owned an average bike for transportation and her street was 2 miles away from mine. I offered to guide her bike as a friendly gesture while we talk a little until we reached my apartment building.

"You're not as behaved as I thought you are," she teased lightly.

"You mean what I did to that librarian? Well at least she has someone to watch over. A little hobby might get her rusty old brain working a little," I winked and she laughed.

We shared jokes even though they were mostly mine. I enjoyed making her laugh and smile. I began talking about myself when we started sobering up; about my family, high school, my hunky best friend named Kevin, and my favorite sport, tennis. I casually asked her about her own share of the bargain and I was more than pleased to hear her describe a little more about herself. Financial problems had caused a temporary break for her education when her father was dropped out on his business firm. She didn't talk about her plans for the future which seemed odd when I think about how much I disclosed my desired career as an architect, but I still marveled at the way she talks about her present and how she sees her life like a ready canvass. She loved her parents dearly even if they couldn't give her siblings to take care of. Eveline had a little pet dog named Sponge, and he was her only best friend.

Little facts added to my little biography of her, and each Saturday I was determined to get closer to her as I know she was a keeper for a friend. It turned into a fantastic innocent habit. When Saturday comes, I'd still stay on my usual distance and she'd read books peacefully. I'd cluck my tongue like a little check-up call and she'd smile. We'd pretend we didn't hear anything when the librarian gets irritated, and we'd squeeze ourselves to hide a laugh. But still I was afraid of annoying her on her reading with my behavior so I'd stop and sneak glances at her instead. Overtime she started whistling, a sign that she wasn't bothered about my tongue-clucking at all. The first time she tried her 'notorious' act and the librarian glared at me accusingly, I bit my tongue so bad to conceal a hideous laughter and my stomach was aching, it was so hard to breath. On our journey home, I was able to make her play "20 questions" where we take turns in interrogations about ourselves. Each new detail was a new color to add to cluster of feathers she blooms each day.

By the time we agreed to meet up on days besides Saturday, I had nicknamed her "Eve" even when her mother calls her "Lynn". On our first "friendly" date, I took her to a little café and treated her with chocolate cake that she told me was her favorite. I bought her "Papertowns", a novel written by John Green, and she was so happy and giddy that Eve kissed me tenderly on the cheek; I wasn't able to hold a blush.

Even though I was afraid to admit it, when I was with her, it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.

She was amazing in ways that I couldn't describe. Eve could make simple seem complex. Everything about her had a deeper sense of sentimental value. There are certain ways only she can do that could make me immeasurably happy.

Eve had suggested I meet up with her on a night of meteor showers last December. It had been my dream rendezvous. As we sat there stargazing, I had took the book that we both loved from my sling bag, "The Choice" and read a little excerpt of Nicholas Sparks, one that I intended with meaning.

"It was inevitable for people to try to create a sense of normalcy in a place where nothing was normal. It helped one get through the day, to add predictability to a life that was inherently unpredictable."

She had listened with her eyes closed, lying on the evergreen grass that sent a neon glow to her emerald eyes.

"You've been quoting my books," Eve grinned, after a long moment of observing the distant, twinkling stars.

"Sadly, you've miraculously turned me into a bookworm like you," I sighed melodramatically.

"Well I never forced you to read them," she smiled.

"But there was no other way of getting your attention," I pouted, playfully.

"There was, you're just too dumb to try it," Eve laughed.

"Name one."

"I don't know, how about just a casual 'hi!'" she muttered sarcastically and I rolled my eyes. "You could also have tried asking me what I was reading. Did I appear that stiff to you?"

"To be honest, yeah" I said teasingly.

"Dud!"

"Nerd!"

Tickle fights are the usual aftermath of our casual bullying. How we managed to get that close so fast? I have no idea.

So yeah, we rolled off our butts in the prickly grass like it was no one's business. And after we finished laughing like hyenas and sobered up, we just lied there peacefully under the stars.

"Well I'm glad you did it," she suddenly brought up.

"Did what?"

"Read the book I mean," Eve chuckled.

"How come?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I guess there was no better way to get me to trust you." (She was serious, by the way.)

"Yeah, right" I smiled. "Starting a book club, eh?"

"You're my first member," she joked and we both laughed.

"You've put me in a lot of effort for just a simple conversation," I whispered.

"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy, remember that," she quoted a memorized sentence from the book that started it all.

It was her own happiness that did the trick: in her brilliant smile, in her adorable pout, or in the way she smudges ice cream all over her mouth, or how she falls asleep with her lips slightly apart, or how she seems so vulnerable and honest and kind that it would be a difficulty to stop the urge to wrap her in your arms and protect her. She was heavenly, but earthly in that amazingly complicated way.

Yes, indeed. I, Gabriel Felix, a plain average teenage boy who couldn't appear normal and comfortable with teenage girls, was falling in love with a bookworm. At that time when I came to terms with my little crush, I surrendered and didn't fight back. I didn't have anything to lose except for our strong bond and resilient friendship (that I couldn't imagine ever giving up). But knowing Eve, I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure out about what I really felt. Being in love, I comprehended, was not about being concerned if she could ever accept your feelings and affections. It's more engrossed on ensuring the happiness of your loved one above yours, even if that took you out of the equation.

Every time I have these insecurities in my mind when I think about confessing, I replay all the moments we spend together inside or outside the library. The way she smiled made me feel like it was mutual, and I know I had to try; Eve was worth it.

So I decided to express my intense emotions towards her on our next meeting next Saturday, in the place where it all began - our sanctuary.

That morning I put on my favorite black jacket, and styled my raven black hair with gel. In the bathroom while having my shower, there was nothing else in my mind but on what to say and how to express it without her running out the door. I was nervous even though I've made up my mind.

I read through my lines and my cheesy quotes (obviously it's from the same book), knowing she'd appreciate it. I slipped further into my own fantasies, understanding that there was a big chance of rejection, but all I cared about was being close to her, keeping her. I wanted so badly to keep her.

By then I knew, the moment I stepped inside the public library - as I saw her empty chair, that a love like this was too good to be true.

When I arrived at her address, I asked around for her and she wasn't home - none of her family was. None of her neighbors knew where they went. I went to random places - anywhere where hope could blossom. I tried the café, Borders (her favorite bookstore), the central park, but I was chasing fiction.

I never felt more drained in my entire life the moment I reached home. I attempted to call her number but only voice message replied.

Days passed, and Eveline still remained as a haunting mystery. I didn't break my visits to the library even though it was already summer vacation - hoping she'd show up with her dazzling smile on a sweater shirt and black jeans and explain how she disappeared and I'd forgive her, then she'd reassure me that she'd stay.

I've had my heart broken by love songs and I've had my own share of repetitive and agonizing travels to memory lane. Theories crossed my mind but it was worthless when there is no evidence to support them. Five times - I think - did I visit her house, only to find it empty once again.

"Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you've had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?"

Why, Nicholas, are you a psychic?

Months passed; each day was a struggle on moving on - on filling this void in my chest whenever I see her empty chair on lonely Saturdays.

My own copy of "The Choice" had been repeatedly thrown off the wall but I still had no perfect reason to hate her - even more in forgetting her. And in doing so, I've shunned myself in taking chances in romance. The harder I wanted to forget the more I kept remembering.

"But things change. People change. Change was one of the inevitable laws of nature, exacting its toll on people's lives. Mistakes are made, regrets form, and all that was left were repercussions that made something as simple as rising from the bed seem almost laborious."

I was able to memorize this stupid passage from that stupid book the day I had given up in waiting for Eve to come back. It seemed pitiful, but there were things you couldn't prevent from spilling. But then maybe I deserved this much for being too attached and for trusting too much on our "mutual" contract.

Unfortunately again for me, I didn't also deserve a "goodbye".

Time did its magic - no matter how slow. I've tried smiling again, and I went back on track with my priorities. On my next semester, I did better and passed every subject. I've tried playing sports like football and I was busier every day.

But still life has a way of proving you wrong. Three days ago, another research came up that needed public library help. The thought brought back unwanted memories that I've tried so hard to ignore but it can't be helped. At the same time, I dared myself to go through this like a test - to prove myself that I've really moved on.

So yesterday I took a step inside the ancient place, purposely in the same time that I practiced my past routine. The librarian regarded me with a look, as she bent down her spectacles to observe me. I tossed her a smile as if we were old acquaintances and I wasn't sure if she could still remember me in the way she returned my friendly greeting.

I took the same old World History textbook, and sat on my old place. Turning the pages, I was suddenly aware of the seat three chairs away from mine. I felt a familiar ache in my heart as I took down notes.

This was too much, I shouldn't have done this.

The price of going back through everything was not worth the pain. I closed the textbook wearily and decided to leave at once, when I heard it.

A whistle.

As if it was a sound of a bullet piercing through my ear, I turned around, perplexed and slightly hopeful.

The librarian was looking at me, her hand on her mouth and a smile on her pale and bony face.

"Made you turn," and she laughed (although it sounded more like a witch's cackle) "I knew that would do the trick." She motioned me towards her, and as the confused bloke as I was, I complied (It's not like she's harmful anyway).

"Your girlfriend," the librarian muttered. "She came here a week ago."

"She's not my girl - Say what?" I think my heart just did a somersault.

"Between you and me, who do you think is supposed to be deaf?" the old woman laughed, betraying her age. "She left something - inserted it on this book," she took "The Choice" (the book that I borrowed) out from the drawer. "You teenagers seriously need to remember that a library is not meant for -"

"Did she say anything?" I cut her off impatiently, taking the book from her wrinkled hand.

The now-annoyed librarian shook her head no.

I removed the little piece of paper from the pages of the book and read the note.

You probably didn't expect an apology from me after I left you alone without any explanation. You didn't deserve it and there is nothing I could say worthy of your forgiveness. You can crumple this paper or forget me - I'd accept all of it. But even after everything that I did to you, it would be such a shame to say that I did it all intentionally.

But here is my explanation: I was dying. My cancer was spreading and an operation could only result to a fast demise or a little chance of survival. From the start I meant to keep this from you - after all, who would have thought that a stranger like you would mean so much to me.

Everyday I wither in the pity of those around me, when all I really want is to do more than just breathe - I want to live. That's why I read lives that have happy endings, something I thought I was never granted to have. It was a torture I designed for myself. At that time all I really thought about was that since this cancer started controlling my life, all I am allowed to feel was pain.

I noticed you long before you borrowed the book. In all honesty, I was just as nervous to talk to you as you mentioned to me. I thought it was a game, really, on who can approach who first. And I lost when you did the irresistible: taking an erotic novel and pretending to read it with an expressionless innocent face. That little encounter started all the hilarious jokes and the little dates. There was nothing wrong about your questions and little interviews but forgive me if I am so reserved (Yes, the reason why I didn't choose to finish school was because of my condition). You'd never think of me as the same bookworm in the library if I told you all of my secrets - specifically about Leukemia.

But we started to hang-out and I let it all happen. There was nothing more refreshing than taking your guard off and having fun. I don't know what made me trust you- maybe it was because you don't look at me with pity, or the way you made me feel safe or that you built up some hope in me. You were a constant reminder of who I can't and never have. But you were there, three chairs away from me, so close yet so far. Ever since I started getting to know you, all I wanted was to close the distance.

So I made a gamble with myself, to give this one last chance, if that meant I'd have an opportunity to have a future with you, even if all we will ever end up is friends. And I accepted the operation, provided with the risks. I couldn't explain everything to you before I'd undergo operation. What's the point of worrying you over something you can't control especially if I'd just end up dead?

God answered my prayers, and I was saved. I got my second chance and all I want to do is spend it with you. But that's your choice. I'll be right here waiting where the heaven's cried.

Love,

E.

Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. I know Eve.

I know.

[seashellrosekitty]

The Last Dance | Prologue

Author’s Note: Here’s my entry to @spxderbarnes Em’s 21st Birthday Writing Challenge! I’m so excited because this is my first Bucky fic (or Marvel fic, rather)! Hope you enjoy this, Em! Happy Birthday, darling!

Plot: 1940s post-war era. Steve and Bucky are brothers and are teenagers, and they never served in the army because they were too young to join during the war. You find out you’re pregnant with Steve’s baby. Both Steve’s and your parents arrange for you and Steve to get married, but Steve declines. Ultimately, his father offers his other son, James (later known as Bucky), to marry you in Steve’s place.

Prompt: 10. “Are you flirting with me?”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (eventually)

Warnings: 18+ content! Teenage pregnancy, arranged marriage, religious theme, sexist theme, music theme, fluff, smut (of course), angst, Steve being a cold jerk (oops), characters coming from the comics (i.e. Bucky’s family)

Word count: 1.7k

Y/N, Y/L/N = Your Name, Your Last Name

P.S. Story starts under the cut.

P.S.S. Tag list is open for this series! For tag requests, send me an Ask!

Summer 1939. Red House, New York.

Y/N Y/L/N was selling lemonade in the park for 15 cents a glass. Every other kid was playing with a loose water hose. At the corner of her eyes, she noticed a young boy her age, seated on a bench alone. He wasn’t sulking or anything, just watching the other kids play. Then she grabbed a fresh glass of lemonade and walked up to him.

“Hi. Do you want some lemonade? This one’s on the house.” The 10-year old girl offered the brunet-haired boy. 

He glanced at her judgingly when he muttered, “Are you flirting with me?”

“No. Why?” she asked, expressing confusion on her face.

“My brother told me that if a girl gives me something, it means she’s flirting with me.”

The little girl laughed and placed the glass of lemonade beside the boy. “It’s just a glass’o lemonade. I’m selling these so I could buy the new Frank Sinatra record,” she stated with sparkling eyes. The boy accepted the glass of lemonade, his face still a questioning look.

“If you’re sellin’ lemonade, then why are you givin’ this to me?”

She shrugged. “I’ve made more than enough for the day. Don’t you want it?” The boy glared at her under the scorching sun, then drank the glass of lemonade.

“It’s good,” he remarked. “Thanks...er,” he trailed off to catch her name. The lemonade girl proudly announced her name. Then he responded with his.

“Bucky.”

“If you want more, I’m just at my lemonade stand. But no more freebies this time, Bucky,” she said with smiling eyes and mouth. 

“I thought you said you’ve made enough money?”

“I’m runnin’ a business here, pal. Oh! And tell your brother,” she said as she started stepping away. “He knows nothing about girls.”

Summer. Eight years later.

You couldn’t believe your ears. You had yourself checked by a gynecologist. You were only eighteen, and already three weeks pregnant. The world in your head felt like it was narrowing as you tried to digest the fact that a fetus has formed in your belly. How are you going to tell Steve? Your mother? Oh god, your father? What would your siblings think?

You’re the eldest of two children, spawns of a retired military man. Your mother, a devout Christian. You were born into an ideal family, really, but what happened to you wasn’t ideal. Especially not in 1946. You frowned in shame in front of your doctor, but she assured you that you’re not the only one in this predicament. With that thought, you came home, bothered in your head as you tried to contemplate on how to tell your parents about your unborn baby. And of course, your boyfriend and the father of your child, Steve. 

Steven Grant Barnes.

The two of you have been together for a year. After he smoothed his way into your heart for three months, you finally gave in. Steve was the promising son in his family. The top student in school. He worked hard in being accepted at the University of Oxford. Both of you were upcoming seniors that year. Steve was no ordinary scholar. He practically didn’t need to finish his senior year. You, on the other hand, still had a year to go before graduation. At this rate, you don’t know if finishing high school was still an option.

You knew Steve had so much to lose if your father was going to force him to marry you. But you don’t know yet for sure. Steve loves you. He’s proven that lots of times already.

You called him at home and asked him to pick you up. He was more than happy to oblige and he arrived in your lawn in under twenty minutes. You told your mom that you were going to have dinner with Steve.

He drove a blue Ford pickup truck where you spent most of your steamy makeout sessions. You didn’t wait for him to honk in your street so you rushed downstairs. He kissed you as soon as you hopped in.

“Hey, beautiful. I was surprised you invited me out today. I thought you were busy?” He hit the gas when you smiled at him.

“Well, I thought I just,” you muttered, keeping your gaze at your blonde boyfriend. “Needed to get out. Can we go to that nice little cafe we went to last time?”

“Sure darling,” Steve said then held your hand. “Is everything alright? I thought you sounded...off on the phone.” Your heart started pounding, slowly, however. You scooted across the seat and clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m ok, sweetie. Just glad you’re here,” you whispered. Steve’s grip on your hand tightened, assuring you that everything will turn out okay. He’ll be a good father. You said in your head with a smile.

Moments later, you arrived at the cafe and order your dinner. The cafe had a small dance floor, where Steve invited you to dance on with him. The two of you enjoyed the night, having danced to a series of upbeat and spontaneous big band songs. When you finally got tired dancing, Steve took you back to his truck and drove to your favorite after-date spot, where you either made out or just cuddled together.

That night, you were doing both. It started with a cuddle in the center of the seat. You talked about random things and recalled how fun the dance you just had moments ago. His lips reached yours in no time when you both fell into silence just after laughing about a couple who danced silly at the cafe. His lips were warm on yours, feeling velvety in their every move. They left your lips to make their way to your neck. The sensation was getting overwhelming, your insides started to clench, aching for more friction in them. And then you remembered it.

“Steve? Sweetie?” He didn’t stop kissing your weak spot on your neck but whispered, “What is it darling? Talk to me.” His hands slid on your thighs and under your skirt. One of them was already reaching the warmest spot of your body. A finger, maybe two, started fiddling with your center, making you distracted from what you just remembered. You huffed a moan and mentally shook your head. You practiced saying it in front of the mirror as soon as you got home. You tried coming up with different ways, different phrases, perhaps, to soften the blow.

But there was only one way to say it.

“I’m pregnant.” His touches halted. It hasn’t been a full second since you’ve finally uttered the sentence you’ve been practicing to say in your head, but the silence was already feeling too long.

“What?” You were about to repeat what you said but Steve interrupted you. “Are you sure?” You nodded your head and said, “I went to the doctor today. My period was delayed.” His previously lust-blown face dropped. His hands slowly moved away from you as he shifted in his seat, looking anywhere else now but your eyes. Why did he have to stop holding me? You thought.

“I’m three weeks pregnant, Steve. I don’t feel a thing yet, but darling, we’re having a baby,” you cooed, reaching for his hands again, but he flinched.

“No, no, no. This can’t happen, Y/N.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair, worries painted in his face.

“What do you mean, Steve? Of course it can. We’ve been going at it like rabbits,” you remarked. It took you a second to remember how often you and Steve have stolen moments to fool around with each other.

His brows were drawn together when he stepped out of the truck. Your head hung over your shoulders. All of the assurance you had earlier was now gone. “Darling, please come back inside.” He paced back and forth and when he heard you call for him, he stepped inside the truck and turned on the ignition and drove away to take you back home.

“Aren’t you going to say anything all?”

He drew a sharp breath and without taking his eyes off the road, he said, “Just let me think.” The rest of the drive remained quiet. His hand no longer searching for yours. They remained on the gear shift or the wheel. The gap between you two in the truck felt bigger than it looked. You don’t like the silence you had now, so you turned on the radio, only to be shut quickly by him.

“I told you, I need to think, Y/N.” You turned away. He has never been this cold to you. Whenever you had fights, you always made up before the night ended. Of course, all of those were nothing compared to this. You didn’t fight, but the distance between you two suddenly appeared. This hurt you more having him argue with you.

The cold, silent treatment has never been something that Steve had given you before. He was always the one vocal and expressive of his thoughts. And it always bothered him when you argued until you got home. He would call you to apologize and sweep you off your feet before you went to bed. Sometimes he would drive in just to see you. One of those times even led to spontaneous make-up sex in his truck.

When he pulled over to your lawn, his gaze remained forward even though it’s evident that you were looking at him and waiting for him to return your gaze. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt like you don’t know Steve anymore. This was not like him at all. His jaws clenched before finally uttering a word to you after being silent forever.

“Do your parents know?”

“No. You’re the first one I told.”

“When are you gonna tell ‘em?”

“Tomorrow.” He nodded. You couldn’t read his face, but it’s not how it was like when he picked you up earlier. You pulled the knob open, remembering that you didn’t kiss Steve goodnight, so you leaned towards him to give him a peck, but he turned his head to you and whispered, “Good night, Y/N.”

Something pointy stabbed your heart with the coldness of his ‘good night’. It was impossible that he didn’t see it in your eyes, but you saw what was in those perfectly bright blue eyes of his. Something unfamiliar to you. Something you’ve never seen in him before, or never noticed.

You barely had any energy to make a big deal of his behavior since he found out you were pregnant. All you had left to say was, “I want to keep the baby.” Then you hopped out of the truck. You remained standing on the sidewalk as you watched his truck drive away. You have never been more uncertain in your life than you were that night. Not just with how you’re going to keep the baby, how you’re going to tell your parents - but if Steve is still with you in all this.

You waited for Steve to call and swoon you over like he always did, but tonight, he broke that record. You didn’t want your family to hear you crying, so you played an Ella Fitzgerald record on your phonograph as you cried yourself to sleep.

To be continued in:

Chapter One - The Dinner

I forgot to tag these beautiful people who want to be tagged in all of my fics:

@bojabee @jurrasicpork @thejourneyofabrokenheart @sav625 @seninjakitey

[vulpinmusings]

Ski’tar and Friends part 6: Pit Crew

The adventures of Ski’tar, Vemir, and 6 continue as we begin the process of becoming official Starfinders.  Our first goal?  Help a teenage brat win a pod-race.

Chapter the First

Chapter the Previous

Before Captain Arvin sent us off to decide what to do with our vastly increased credit accounts, he told us to expect to hear from someone else in the Starfinder Society about initiations the next morning. It was only at this point that I realized I’d agreed to a fair bit more than I thought I had.  Vemir, Sixer, and I weren’t being kept on as contracted freelancers; the Society intended to actually make us full members.  Vemir and Sixer didn’t appear to put-off by this, and I decided to play along under the assumption that if I didn’t like where things were going I could just quit.

After shopping around for some better gear – I got myself a superior knife, stronger frag grenades, and a suit of Carbon Skin armor with jump jets, Sixer finally replaced some of his weapons, and Vemir bought himself a venom spur biotech augment along with some tools – Vemir invited us to join him at a bar for a post-mission drink.  He said it was one of his Traditions, but I can’t imagine why he’d slap that label on such an ordinary activity.  We found an establishment that wasn’t down in the Spike but also wasn’t too high-class.  The three of us may have come into a lot of money, but we couldn’t possibly have fit in at some quasi-noble brewery in the Eye.  Vemir got himself some tequila and Sixer went for whiskey or something equally hard, while I just got a simple beer.  When the bartender tried to coax me into getting something harder, and more expensive, I made a vague reference to the time when I let my attention lapse and blew my own arm off.  Everyone assumed I’d been drunk at the time, and I didn’t correct them since it got the bartender off my case about my drink order.

As we chatted, I learned that Sixer was originally from Akiton, like myself, but we’d unsurprisingly never crossed paths.  He’d been built as the personal assistant to some big-wig and, through a great deal of very detailed references to the dangers of Akiton, implied he’d killed his former owner.  Given our fairly public location, both Vemir and I silently agreed not to press for more details. Vemir told us he had signed up with some mercenary group while on his Tempering, lost one of his arms on a mission, then quit the mercenary life to become a bounty hunter and never bothered to go back to the Idari to officially finish the Tempering.

The bartender asked us about our day, and when I mentioned we’d been working with the Starfinders, he was surprised the Society was still functional.  Apparently, the Society had recently suffered a catastrophic loss, far beyond the mere seven people who died on Ulmarid.  The common estimates said the Society had lost 80% of its people in a single disaster that was being called the Scored Stars Disaster.  Suddenly, Arvin’s willingness to entrust the search for the Unbounded Wayfarer to a trio of random folk off the streets made a lot more sense to me, as did our being fast-tracked into joining the Society.  The three of us mulled over the information and decided to hold off digging into the Scored Stars Disaster until we’d at least made some progress through the initiation process and earned the trust of the Starfinder Society. Or at least what was left of it.

The next morning, our comms received a message from something identified only as “Guidance,” giving us directions to a particular room in the Lorespire Complex.  Upon arrival, we were greeted by a hologram of a middle-aged human woman which instructed us to provide genetic samples for identification purposes, gave us sub-dermal ID markers, and then a long run-down of what our initiation would entail.  To put it simply, we had to complete some task for each of the four sub-factions within the Starfinder Society. Our first mission would be given to us by the leader of the Acquisitives, the sub-faction dedicated to maintaining the Society’s public image and handling temporary contract jobs.  The Acquisitive leader, Ratazan, works out of an office in the middle of the Eye. So, us three products of the slums and borderline-legal society went marching through the most elite section of Absalom Station, listening for interesting gossip and only hearing about some upcoming pop music sensation and the latest drama on the Junk Racing circuit.

Ratazan’s office was about as bland and sterile as you could imagine; it seemed a minor miracle that there was any furniture in the place.  Ratazan himself was a Vesk in a state of extreme agitation.  Once we’d introduced ourselves, he wasted no time getting to the point: some young punk of a Starfinder had spoken critically of the mechanical skills of the current Junk Racing champion, Rat-rod, and the champ had insisted the Starfinder put her credits where her mouth was by taking part in the next race.  For our initiation task, Ratazan wanted us to hike all the way back down to the Spike and help the young Starfinder, Laboni, win the race and preserve the reputation of the Society.

It sounded like a lot of hullabaloo over nothing, but I’d never been able to get into a designated Junk Race course before and I’d always been curious what could be scrounged from one.  And at any rate, the task sounded perfectly suited to my skills and entailed little personal risk since none of us would be expected to actually take part in the gun-encrusted demolition derby that is a Junk Race.

Bearing badges and caps that marked us as official Pit Crew, Vemir, Sixer, and I made our way to the Junk Race circuit and past a couple of robots programmed to keep the fans out of restricted areas and to ensure that every race participant knows every rule of Junk Racing.  It was useful information, don’t get me wrong, but the delivery method could’ve been less… monotone.

Laboni was human, and little more than a teenager, which explained precisely why this whole situation had come about.  She at least had the good sense to know she’d put herself and the whole Society in a tight spot, so I didn’t begrudge having to help her too much.  Then Rat-rod himself came over to trash-talk, and the fact that he was a fellow Ysoki did nothing to quell the fire he stoked in me to take him down more than a couple pegs.  Once Rat-rod had left to see to the final preparations on his racer, I threw myself into doing everything I could to improve Laboni’s rusted heap of a vehicle.

While I was tinkering, Vemir went around to chat up some of the other racers and try to arrange for some assistance during the race.  Turns out Rat-rod is not well-liked among his fellow racers, mostly due to his attitude but also how he uses technomancy on his vehicle. Technomancy isn’t illegal in Junk Racing – little actually is besides firing into the audience – but Rat-rod’s application of it apparently makes him a nightmare to deal with on the course. Vemir’s first target, a gnome technomancer with an apparent obsession for putting unnecessary bits and bobs on her vehicle, was particularly helpful in detailing some of Rat-rod’s tricks and promised to help interfere with him if we could ensure her a second-place finish.  Vemir relayed what he’d learned to me, and I took particular note that Rat-rod’s racer was capable of absorbing energy weapons fire and converting it into performance boosts for his vehicle.  I made sure to install a kinetic gun onto Laboni’s racer and told her to use it and not the energy gun already installed.

Vemir next spoke to a Lashunta who took a lot of pride in the appearance of his racer (I’ve made it a small personal goal to see to it that he gets at least a few scratches to the paint-job) and was easily convinced to distract everyone with telepathic visions of how nice his racer is.

While I was working, Sixer tried to make himself useful by running off to search for scrap I could use.  He came back with a barrel.  I asked him pointedly what he expected me to do with a barrel, and he came up with some silly idea of rigging a way to launch it at Rat-rod’s head during the race.  I decided to just stick with the kinetic gun I’d already picked out to install.  Vemir came up with another use for the barrel: he’d use it to sneak over to yet another racer and stick a detonator on some critical part that would be debilitating but not deadly if it were to fail.  Liking that plan, I prepared one of my detonators for him.  Vemir climbed into the barrel, kicked out the bottom so he could walk inside it, and proceeded to trip and roll into the vehicle he’d planned to sabotage.  The driver was less than amused, and Vemir had to book it back over to us before anything violent happened.  I reclaimed and disarmed my detonator, and then we had to get off the track before the race started.

As we went, Laboni handed us a remote she’d rigged up to let us take control of her racer if we felt it was necessary.  From the look on her face, it was clear she fully expected us to “feel it was necessary” for the entirety of the race.  So, feeling much put-upon, we withdrew to a good vantage point and started discussing how the three of us were going to manage remotely piloting a Junk Racer with only one remote between us.

[tehnardier]

The Guilty Ones — Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Words: 1863

Request: “May I please request a ficlet with the headcanon of the morning after your first time together?” by @sgarrett49

Summary: Y/N has a one night stand with her best friend and has to face the consequences of the morning after.

Warnings: mentions of sex, cursing and nudity (nothing explicit though)

A/N: this was supposed to be just a small ficlet but look what happened,,, again lol. enjoy and tell me what you think!! also! the title is from a song from the musical spring awakening 

Y/N woke up to something warm pressed against her back. At first, she didn’t think much of it, happy to just shuffle closer to the heat. But then, it moved and Y/N was very much aware that the heat was coming from a person. A naked person. She opened her eyes and found herself in no other than in the bedroom of her childhood friend, Steve Harrington. Which meant, by process of elimination, that the body cuddling her was Steve. Either that or she had somehow hijacked his room and brought some random guy to it. Y/N honestly didn’t know what scenario sounded worse.

Memories from the night before started coming back to her and that was when she realized she was completely and utterly fucked. Y/N and Steve had been friends for almost 15 years and she had just ruined it by getting hammered and having an one night stand with him. God, what was she thinking?

Her mouth felt insanely dry, her head was pounding and there was no way she could get out of that bed without waking him up. ‘It’s ok,’ she tried to reason with herself, ‘you don’t need to make a big deal out of this. Just get out of the bed, grab your clothes, dress them as fast as possible and run out of the room before he fully wakes up. If his parents see you, they’ll think it’s normal. You’ve slept over before, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. And if Steve remembers anything, you’ll deny it. Say he brought another girl home. He’ll probably think he had a sex dream with you, get embarrassed and drop the subject. No big deal.’

Y/N swiftly got out of Steve’s embrace and replaced herself with a pillow. She didn’t let herself get a look at him, knowing she would be a goner if she did. Yes, she had a little crush on her best friend, how could she not? Steve treated her like she was royalty, he was always so kind and so supportive, so it’s not her fault that somewhere around middle school she realized she liked him romantically. Of course, she never acted on those feelings or told anyone about them, she just locked them up on a box on her mind and learned to live with them. And it had been going so well until her drunk self had to go and quite literally fuck it all up.

Y/N got up as quietly as she could and started gathering her clothes. Her underwear were easy enough to find and she quickly put them on, but she couldn’t find her dress anywhere. She was frantically looking for it around the room when she heard a raspy voice call out from the bed. “It’s right there.”

“Shit,” she mouthed, turning around slowly to find Steve peeking out from underneath the covers and pointing to a little corner next to his bed that had her dress, her shoes and some of his clothes scattered around. Y/N awkwardly mumbled a ‘thanks’ and went to get the clothing, knowing his eyes were on her throughout all of it.

“I was gonna let you go without letting you know I was already awake,” Steve told her, sitting up and picking up his boxers that were lying on the floor next to the bed. Y/N turned around as he put them on and heard him chuckle. “You can turn around now, Y/N,” he told her after a few seconds and she reluctantly did as she was told. They stared at each other for a while, Y/N taking in all the red marks scattered across his neck and torso, knowing she probably had matching ones on her. Y/N couldn’t let herself think about that too hard, so she cleared her throat and hugged her dress close to her chest. “You were saying...?”

“I woke up before you,” Steve said, “and I knew you were going to freak out so I pretended to be asleep so you could leave.”

“And why are you telling me all this?” Y/N asked exasperated.

He shrugged, looking out of the window in his room. “It’s raining,” he pointed out as an explanation.

It took a lot for Y/N not to scream in defeat and anger when she followed Steve’s line of vision and saw the little droplets of rain falling from the sky. She was so caught up in getting out of there that she didn’t stop to realize that it was raining and that she’d have to walk home with no umbrella and with the party dress she was wearing from the night before. Talk about a walk of shame.

“What’s your point?” she asked stubbornly. Steve closed his eyes for a second and sighed.

“My point is,” he said slowly, “I think it would be best if you stayed.”

“Best to whom exactly, Steve?” Y/N cried out, her knuckles clenched as she held her dress and shoes tight in her hands. “To us? Because I don’t see how situation we’re in could get better in any way. We fucked it up bad, Steve. In fact, I think you should just let me go home and we’ll forget this ever happened. That’s what it would be best.”

The hurtful look on Steve’s face when she said that was almost enough for her to drop everything, jump into his arms and never, ever let go. But they weren’t in a movie, this was real life, there was no way an one night stand would lead Y/N to live this big, beautiful love story with her longtime crush and best friend. There was simply no way.

“Do you regret it?” Steve asked her quietly.

“You don’t get to ask me stuff like that,” she pointed an accusatory finger in his direction, “you know what we did was wrong. Friends are not supposed to do this, ok? We crossed a line, Steve.”

He stood up and started to take careful and slow steps to where Y/N stood. “We didn’t just cross it, we annihilated it completely,” he told her with a smirk.

“You think this is funny,” she said, although it sounded less like a statement and more like a question. Steve now stood just a couple of feet away from her.

“I think your reaction is hilarious,” he told her, his smirk growing into a full blown smile.

“Fuck you,” Y/N spat out at him.

“I think you already did that for me,” he teased.

Y/N wasted no time to throw her shoes and dress on the floor and launch herself at him and start to lightly hit his chest. “You. Are. A. Fucking. Douche. Bag. Steve,” she emphasized every word with a hit to his torso.

Steve managed to seize her arms and bring them down.

“Ok, I’m sorry,” he said in between laughs, “I just don’t get why you think this is so horrible.”

Y/N was acutely aware that Steve hadn’t let go of her arms and how his fingers were slowly descending to her hands. “You can’t be serious,” she said dumbfounded.

“Why? This has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” Steve said fondly, his hands finally founding Y/N’s and lacing his fingers with hers. “I mean, I’m pretty sure even our parents kept a bet as to when we would get together.”

“Steve...” she warned, looking down at their hands.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he declared, “and I don’t get why this has to ruin what we have.”

Y/N let go of Steve’s hand and took a step back. “You’re not in love with me. You’re saying that because we slept together and you feel bad.”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shook his head in denial, “This is not the way I would’ve chosen to tell you, believe me, but it happened. You’re trying to make this look like it is a mistake when it’s not.”

Y/N gulped loudly and looked at Steve straight in the eyes. “What makes you so sure I feel the same way?” she asked.

“I don’t think you’d still be here now if you didn’t,” he answered, looking back at her with such raw and pure honesty that Y/N couldn’t take it. She turned away from him, facing his bedroom door. Steve was right. Y/N had every chance to bolt the moment she got her clothes back, he wouldn’t have stopped her. She stayed because a small part of her still believed that they somehow could make this work.

“This could ruin our friendship,” she said quietly.

Y/N heard Steve move in the background. A few seconds later, he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“I’m willing to take that risk if you are,” he whispered.

‘Fuck it’ is the last thought Y/N had before she turned around and crashed her lips into Steve’s. He kissed back just as fervently, bringing his hands to rest on her thigh and hold her up. Y/N entwined her legs around his waist and he brought them back to the bed, throwing both of them carefully onto it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking down at her and pushing her hair out of her face. Y/N smiled and leaned up to kiss him. Their lips were about to touch when Steve’s door opened suddenly, his mom standing in the doorway. Steve jumped out of her while she grabbed the blanket to cover herself as much as she could.

“Steve, are you— Oh, Y/N!” Mrs. Harrington exclaimed when she saw Y/N, who waved awkwardly and murmured a “hi”.

The three of them stood silent for a moment, both teenagers mortified while Steve’s mom looked at them with wide eyes, but not in a way that it looked that she was surprised to see them together, just in a way that looked that she was just as mortified to have walked on this as much as her son was.

“Mom, can you go?” Steve managed to say, breaking the silence. Mrs. Harrington held her breath and looked at her son.

“We’ll talk later about this,” she told him and turned to Y/N. “You’re welcomed to join us for lunch, Y/N. I can even invite your parents over.”

And with that she was gone, closing the door behind her and leaving Y/N and Steve laying side by side on the bed with matching horrified looks on their faces.

“I can’t believe this just happened,” Y/N said and turned her head to the boy beside her.

“I was right, at least,” Steve answered and looked back at her, “our parents were keeping a bet.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and chuckled. “Yeah, sure.”

“That’s why she’s inviting your parents over,” he clarified.

“You’re delusional, Harrington,” she told him fondly.

“Well, it’s either that or she already wants to start planning our wedding,” he said.

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled, not even wanting to think about how awful would this lunch be if Mrs. Harrington in fact invited her parents.

“You shut me up,” Steve retorted. Y/N sat up suddenly and threw her legs around his wait, pinning him down on the bed.

“Ok, I will,” she breathed out before leaning in and kissing him hard.