#every black person here already told these folks they were being stupid and drinking the kool-aid

[blackfilmmakers]

Wasn't the screenshot messages of black people on tiktok saying that they will start eating at McDonald's etc made to show that colonized people in the imperial core too have power over those who are at the imperial periphery?

Anon, sellouts exist in every group-including oppressed groups. Including those under imperialist rule

This is not new information guys, I shouldn't have to baby feed you this

Anyways, where were you when white people all over the world were making the "Haitians eating your pets" memes?

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

---

Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

[spike-and-faye]

Hello, I require your infinite wisdom please!! :O So I just finished cowboy bebop and I am so confused like who the fuck was Julia. WHAT was Faye's past. I literally never process tv shows and the bebop was not immune to my stupidity LMAO like... I guess the ending just really confused me, from what I gathered Spike and Vicious were friends? But then they weren't? And Julia dated Vicious but also Spike? And he? Went after Vicious even after Julia had died? I am Confusion. Please help. Thank u...

Oh BABEY I am so glad you asked! :) Be prepared for a long answer and I apologize in advance for how incoherent it will probably be.

ALSO Please note: this show is fucking complicated. I have watched it all the way through several times a year, every single year, for over a decade now, and I am *STILL* finding new shit every time I watch it. It's packed with symbols, motifs, allusions and underlying themes that are just so rich. It is so extraordinarily well-written that it could give a lot of classic literature a run for its money. I'm literally working on an in depth literary/film analysis my husband lovingly calls my Manifesto on the series right now. SO PLEASE don't beat yourself up about not catching everything on the first go round.

HEY BTW for anyone who hasn't finished the show, please know there will be MANY spoilers ahead!

Anyways ~

1.     Spike / Julia / Vicious:

The information we get on Spike's past, including Vicious and Julia, is pretty limited considering how big of an impact they have on the story. We get our first glimpse in Session 1: Asteroid Blues, then again in Session 5: Ballad of Fallen Angels, Sessions 12 + 13: Jupiter Jazz, and Sessions 25 + 26: Real Folk Blues. I recommend reviewing these episodes for you Julia and Vicious fix.

What we know:

Spike and Vicious were both members of an organized crime syndicate called the Red Dragons, which is roughly analogous to the Yakuza or the Mafia. Their positions in the organization are not clear, but there are some images alluding to them being hitmen, and they likely rose up in the ranks as they were close acquaintances of Mao Yenrai, a Capo of the Red Dragon.

Spike and Vicious were close comrades. Spike taught Vicious everything he knew about fighting, and the two had a deep trust in each other. Which Spike fucked up ….

^^Vicious looks hot asf here

Julia was Vicious' lover/girlfriend. One night in 2068 (three years prior to the time we watch in the Bebop) Spike is injured, presumably from a syndicate-related fight and he passes out in front of her door. She takes him in and nurses him back to health and he SIMPS HARD for her. We’re all but told he's in LOVE love with her. They start an affair, and Spike tells her he's ready to abandon the whole life - the syndicate, Vicious, Mao, all of it - and they could run away together.

WELL Vicious finds out about this whole affair, and is DOUBLY betrayed because his literal best friend and girlfriend have been having an affair, and tbh I think he was just as jealous of Spike's attentions as he was of Julia's. (Whether or not it’s a sexual thing for Spike … well … I have my own headcanons about that). SO when he finds out they're going to run away together, he gives Julia an ultimatum: you can either kill him, or I'll just kill you both. Spike had written her a letter about meeting him in the graveyard to start their new life together, which she tears up to hide his location from Vicious. (This is the falling ripped up pieces of paper we see in Spike's flash back in Session 5).

^^ r/gifsyoucanhear

**NOTE: There are those who disagree with this view, (looking at you Cowboy Bebop wiki) instead suggesting Vicious and Spike were buds in the past, but then hated each other once they were both considered as potential successors to Mao. That's why Vicious wanted him dead, and he was enlisting Julia (who he didn't necessarily have a romantic connection to) to help kill Spike since he knew Spike loved her. Personally, I think there is plenty of evidence that Vicious also wanted Julia, and in fact was already with her, when Spike started seeing her. If you want me to cite my sources please send an me an ask about it :)

Spike gets the idea, whether by her just not showing up or word around the syndicate being like YO Vicious wants you dead. Despite Vicious' ultimatum to Julia, he was gunna kill Spike either way. SO he sets up an ambush, and SadBoy™ Spike walks intentionally into their trap. Somehow, he doesn't die, though the entire syndicate thinks he did. (Note Annie's reaction to seeing him alive in Session 5). It’s also implied that this is where he lost his eye.

HIS EYE - possibly the most important symbol in the show so I do have to mention it. In episode 26, he explicitly explains to Faye that one of his eyes only sees the past. (PS this isn't dissimilar to Jet's arm… we can get into that another time). Basically, he's constantly living halfway in the past and halfway in the present, and describes the past like a dream he can never wake up from. Because dysfunctional or not - the syndicate WAS his family. (Again - see his relationship with Annie, Mao, and Vicious (prior to Spike's betrayal)). It's his reminder that Julia didn't run away with him, and that he'd left behind that life for her. (He didn’t know she was being threatened until the final episode). Basically Spike is hyper-fixated on what he had and what could've been.

Not long after this, Spike starts bounty hunting because like? What else is he going to do. He doesn't care if he lives or dies but if he has to be alive, he may as well be able to eat. He joins up with Jet Black on the Bebop.

TL; DR: Spike stole Vicious' lover, Julia, so Vicious made Julia choose between her killing Spike or Vicious killing them both. She instead went into hiding and Spike thought he'd been stood up. He fake died and got the hell outta dodge.

2.     What was Faye's past?

Ok let me start by saying Faye is my wife and my life. HOWEVER I hated her the first time I watched this show circa age 13 because I thought she was annoying/vain/shallow (also because #internalizedmisogyny lol am I right fam). Good news! She is all those things! But she's also very lonely and scared and an amnesiac and secretly a sweetie and she realizes she loves the crew of the Bebop like family.

SO my wife's backstory:

she was born in the 1990s (#only90skidsremember). There's some debate over her race/nationality, but due to the images of her hanging out in Merlion Park in Singapore, my bet is that she's Singaporean. She comes from a wealthy family with a big house, and we see some utterly *adorable* film of her as a child/young adolescent in Session 18: Speak Like a Child. I cry everytime </3

^^ Holla for the representation

In 2014, circa age 20, she and her parents were going into space when the shuttle they were on had some kind of malfunction/accident and it killed an unknown number of people, including her parents. At the time, the technology didn’t exist to be able to save her, so she was put into a cryogenic sleep state. Meanwhile, the Lunar Gate accident occurs, breaking up the moon and causing rock showers on Earth's surface. Most people died, moved to Mars, or settled underground.

She wakes up from her cryogenic sleep in 2068. (Also the year Spike leaves the syndicate.) She's 'woken' by the corrupt Dr. Bacchus who plans on charging her for the years and years of medical debt she's accrued. (See Session 15: My Funny Valentine.) Luckily a lawyer takes interest in her case (Whitney Haggus Matsumoto) and tries to help get rid of her debt. The two fall in love, but turns out Whitney is a Scumbag. He's actually Dr. Bacchus's nephew, and faked his death, writing Faye as the sole inheritor to his will. This means she'll take on all his debts. So baby girl has LOTS of debt at this point.

In the intervening years prior to her joining the Bebop, she gambles, cheats, gains a lot of street smarts, and adopts a very seductive character to get her way. She joins the crew on the Bebop in Session 3: Honky Tonk Women.

TL;DR: Faye is Austin powers

YIKES this is so long I am so sorry. Bitches are obsessed with this show. (I am bitches)

3.     The Ending

Okay I'm going to present this in the way, in my scholarly opinion, would be correct, though there are SO many interpretations other than simply 'Spike died :/".

To understand the plot of the last couple episodes we actually have to go back to Session 5: Mao is instructed* to sign a treaty with a rival syndicate called the White Tigers. (*He's instructed by The Van (Council of identical creepy old men) who are the actual head of the dragon. I think we only see them in Session 26.) Well - Vicious is a Bastard Man and he and his fellow mutineers blow up the White Tiger guys' ship and slit Mao's throat. Before he dies, Mao is like "Gotdamnit if Spike was still here this shit wouldn't have happened." Later in the Cathedral battle, Vicious explains to Spike he killed Mao because Mao 'lost his fangs'. He planned on killing Spike for good her, IMO, so there'd be no rival to take over as Capo for the Dragons.

^^These guys are The Van btw

THEN in Session 25, the Van basically catches Vicious and is like “you killed Mao and now you have to go to Time Out.” The Van also decides to just kill everyone associated with Vicious, just 2 B safe. That's why there's a big ass shootout at the Loser Bar where Jet and Spike are chilling, drinking, (missing Faye and Ed and Ein lol) and Shin (younger brother to Lin, who's helping Vicious overthrow the Dragon) explains all this to Spike. OH and PS JULIA IS ALIVE AND HERE IS HER LOCATION :). (**Notice Spike's reaction at this point is different than his reaction in Jupiter Jazz when he hears there's a Julia on Calisto. Much less excited… hmm…).

SO THEN you know we get some flashbacks of the past as previously explained *and* Julia just happens to run into Faye. She recognizes that Faye is one of Spike's friends from the Bebop (she was keeping tabs on him it seems) and picks her up. Faye doesn't know who Julia is but is like damn bitch I'm a little gay for you. (I mean … that may just be my bi ass projecting, but Faye is REALLY struck with her. Look at how she describes her to Jet, I mean come on.)

 Faye's like, 'we should team up' and Julia says 'no thanks but also tell Spike to meet me at *the place*'. Meanwhile back on the Bebop Spike and Jet are talking and Spike goes on about some dream woman who was his other half. (We assume he means Julia … I have my reasons to doubt this … I have a lot of angry DMs about my opinion here lol but I just do not give a fuck (: I can expand on this in another post or you can refer to the title of my fucking blog haha) Personally, I think Watanabe personally left this specific scene open ended, the same way he does with the ending and various other things.

more like SIMP Spiegel

ANYWAY Faye comes back to the Bebop to tell Spike about Julia, and Jet gets intel from a former cop buddy that there's some shit going down with the Dragons. (Again, the Van is hunting down everyone ever associated with Vicious, including your pal Spike). Bebop is attacked, Faye tells Spike what's up with Julia, and he heads out.

 PAN TO VICIOUS chained up - about to be executed - but what's that!? It's a bird!? It's a pla- no it's just a bird. (With one glowing red eye … hm … reminds me of Spike, also the drug Red Eye. Pls let me know if you have any thoughts on this). Just a bird with a BOMB! Explosion (RIP bird c. 2065 - too soon), Vicious kills the elders, his buddies show up and are ready to go fuck shit up.

this show could not be more of an aesthetic

MMMPhhh okay RAINY CEMETERY. Spike and Julia. She draws a gun, explains why she didn't meet him that day, and then hugs him. Now Spike is not *great* at showing his emotions but he literally just stands there. Maybe it's a stoic expression of how sad he is that he never knew she still cared, when it seemed like she dumped him. Maybe he's finally getting some closure on his past. Maybe the past doesn't mean the same thing it used to. (I'll elaborate later on this).

They go to Annie's to get stocked up on stuff, she lets them know she denied knowing Spike was still alive and hey also the Van was assassinated by Vicious and his guys so. Watch out for that. Then her shop is surrounded by Vicious' guys and she dies :(. Spike and Julia escape to the roof, but she's shot and dies in Spike's arms, and says 'it's all just a dream' :(. (Refer to: Spike living in a dream of the past).

Anyway Jet SAID he wasn't gunna go after Spike but. Jet's parental instincts kick in (oh yeah he was shot in the leg earlier btw) and he goes to Sitting Bull to see if he knows where Spike is. He basically says yeah Spike's about to die somewhere. (I want to do a further analysis on all the Sitting Bull scenes.) Well conveniently Spike returns to the Bebop, eats, tells his story about a tiger-striped cat. (At one point Jet asks if he's going there for her, and Spike is like well she's dead now so whatever). THEN we get to the scene where Faye is like HEY YOU CAN'T GO OFF AND DIE ASSHOLE and he's like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I 've been living in the past so I might as well see if I'm living now. (**This will play heavily into my interpretation of the ending). Faye is pissed, shoots the ceiling and he goes off to the syndicate headquarters to fuck shit up.

He basically John Wicks his way through the building, Shin dies, he and Vicious have the big boss battle and whatnot. He kills Vicious and stumbles back out down the stairs and says "Bang!" and collapses. We pan to the sky and see a star fade away.

Well that explains the plot … now here's what I think happened!!! ALSO may I mention, anon - you picked up on something I feel like a lot of people miss out on. Why *did* Spike go back to kill Vicious if Julia was already dead??

Basically, once it became clear that anyone associated with Vicious was being killed, Spike knew they'd hunt him down, and they weren't beneath Kill-Billing their way to him, (i.e. systematically destroying this companions to get to him). And for all his apparent indifference - he really loves his new found family. Jet is literally like an older brother to him. Ed is a little sister. Ein is well … a very good boy. And Faye? Well the relationship is complicated, and I'm not going to get into the 69,420 reasons I ship them here, but I think it is beyond argument that he really does care for her, even if that just in a filial way. He didn't want the syndicates to kill them for their association to him, or in order to get to him. So he did what he had to do to protect them. *AND NO* I am not saying that he didn't love Julia. But it was clear that his desire was no longer to run away with her. I think he genuinely loved and cared about her, but at some point between Jupiter Jazz Pt 2 and now, he accepted that their time together was over. Now he had a new raison d'etre, which is the Bebop.

I think at this point Spike has 'woken up' to reality (as he implied to Faye in their final conversation in episode 26: "Look at these eyes. One of them is a fake, because I lost it in an accident. Since then, I have been seeing the past in one eye, and the present in the other. I had believed that what I saw was not all of reality...I thought I was watching a dream that I would never awaken from. Before I knew it, the dream was all over." (This is from the sub btw I'm too lazy to look up the dub transcript.) He wasn't going there to die, he's going to find out if he's really alive. This line is fucking cool and everything - but it's implications are multitude. I won't go into them all here but basically : what makes him alive now is that he's free from his past. He's alive because he has this new family and protecting them is all he really wants now. Spike was protecting Jet, Faye, Ed, (and Ein) by going and facing the entire syndicate, knowing that their lives would all be in danger.

SO - did Spike die? Well again - Watanabe has purposely and artfully left this open ended. Well, if we're following the symbolism from Sitting Bull, then yeah, the man is as dead as disco, and wouldn't that be a fitting ending? BUT at the same time, Spike always refers to having 'died' before (meaning when he was ambushed by the syndicate, and they all thought he died, and he pretty much did). Don't forget that in  movie (takes places roughly between episodes 22 + 23, and yes, was made AFTER the series but whatever) he like .. DIES dies. He goes to the afterlife and everything. He wakes up to find he's chilling with Sitting Bull, who's like nah it wasn't your time to die yet. So the fact Sitting Bull confirms Spike will die in the final episode, means yeah, Spike is pretty much dead.

BUT -- okay now hear me out -- could this death in the final episode be a death to his previous life? The person he was in the syndicate? Now that he's extinguished the Red Dragons for good, is it not possible that its merely *that* life which has ended? That's the optimist in me saying that, but if it keeps me from staying up all night crying, I guess it'll have to do. Watanabe definitely wants to leave it up to the viewer, so whatever you think, I feel like there's validity to it.

WELL any anon, sorry for the fucking lecture - and believe me, I could've said MUCH, MUCH more - but I enjoyed this question. I always love talking about this show so please all you fuckers feel free to message me or send an ask about anything any time. I am really slow at replying because #life'sAbitch.

Love you all.

SY,SCB <3

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Day 11

 Prompt: Pick your favorite soulmate AU and write about it. For this, I’ve chosen to do: ‘Everyone is born with a ring on their finger that changes color with your soulmate’s mood, turning pink when you touch for the first time. When they die, the ring turns black and falls off, turning to dust.’ Combined with a Reincarnation AU.

Word Count: 4,186

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

He sat on his mat, legs curled beneath him. His eyes strained to see in the dim light provided by the moon. Even so, he was only looking for one thing and he knew exactly where it should be. Staring at his hands, he used one to gently feel around the other, desperate to know it was a dream. The searching hand found what it wanted and it flew to his mouth, stifling the horrified gasp that surely would have woken his sister if he’d let it out. 

Carefully, he stood and made his way to stand by the window, the ashes of his soul ring cupped in his palm. He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but he did nothing to wipe them away, instead focusing on keeping his grief quiet. His sister would learn in the morning but this was his burden to carry, not hers. 

Even so, he stood there, staring at the remnants of his soulmate and mourning for a person he never got to meet nor love, long enough for the sun to come up. His sister shifted in her sleep before waking, rolling to find a warmth that wasn’t there. ‘Brother?’ She called out, voice heavy with sleep.

He turned back to the room, a smile breaking behind the tears. ‘It’s alright, I’m here.’

She nodded, curling back into the warmth of the mat. ‘Cows need to be milked.’

‘I’ll do that.’ He walked to the table and grabbed a cheese cloth, gently laying the ashes in the center and folding it up, storing it in his pocket before he went to milk the cows while the dew was still wet on the grass and the air was still heavy with mist. That night, he took some leftover fabric and sewed a pocket into the inside of his shirt. There, he stored the ashes close to his heart, living with them and the memory until his own death.”

~

“She sat on the throne, looking out over the court. Glancing down at her soul ring, she saw it turn a seething red of anger. In this instant, she was inclined to agree with the soulmate she’d never met. In her youth, she’d dreamed of adventuring and meeting him, knowing he was out there somewhere. She’d always been excited to travel to other kingdoms, even if it meant pretending to look for suitors. She’d always glanced around every corner, hoping that was the one he’d be behind. 

That was her youth. She’d wasted it searching for someone who was outside her range of travel. She’d thrown it away for the silly notion of love and soulmates, not realizing that that was something only the common folk got to have. So, she’d eventually settled down with a nice, if dull, prince that made a strong alliance with the vulnerable kingdom next door. It had been a happy life, if as dull as her husband.

She looked out over the crowd, the soldiers standing in her court, the foreigners who had the audacity to invade her kingdom and slaughter her husband right in front of her. Suddenly, her trusted lady-in-waiting came up beside her, leaning to speak in her ear. ‘A word, my queen?’

She looked at her for a moment, trusting with her life. Bowing her head, she rose and stepped behind the curtain that led to a small room off to the side. Her lady-in-waiting’s smile was tinged with sadness as she adjusted her spectacles before smoothing out the queen’s pale blue dress. ‘I have something to confess, my queen.’ She was startled but nodded for her to continue. ‘My soul ring turned pink the first time we met. I suspect yours did too but it was hidden under your gloves.’

Before she could fully process that her soulmate was her lady-in-waiting, her best friend, her closest confidant, the door was ripped open and the men were forcing their way in. The next instant, red met blue as life faded from one set of eyes while tears sprang to another set. Soon, black was fluttering to the ground to mix with the red, purple pooling beneath knees as sharp cries of anguish wrent the air.”

~~

“He pulled on the back of a shirt, saving the man from slipping on the ground slick with drink. The war was over and many were celebrating, but not him. After all, he had nothing to celebrate. There would always be more hate, more violence, more bloodshed in the world. So, he did his best to help where he could but he mainly just stayed out of the way. 

The man smiled and sat opposite him, not talking but looking at his hands. Looking back up, he looked into his eyes and smiled again. ‘I guess I should say hello, soulmate.’

He shushed him, hunching in on himself and trying to keep his hands hidden. ‘Are you really trying to get us arrested?’

The joy in his eyes faded. ‘Right. Those stupid laws are still in effect.’

He nodded. ‘I guess we should say goodbye.’

His soulmate reached out, hands brushing. ‘Does it have to be so soon? Are we not allowed to at least enjoy each other’s company for a few minutes?’

He looked at him, cynicism in his eyes. ‘Is it better to have gotten to know each other, to have loved and lost, to carry that ache across the years until age or circumstances rids the earth of us? Or is it better to have met, to have known the other existed, and gone on our separate ways before getting attached?’

His soulmate looked down into his drink, his hand retreating.’“You’re right, of course. I just thought it’d be nice. To have memories to hang onto, to know something about the person made for you. I’ve only gotten to know you in one other life and you already seem so different. Forgive me for being excited to know you in this life.’

It was his turn to reach out, to take his hand, to gently brush his thumb over the back of his hand. ‘I know. I wish that were possible too. But we both know it’s not. We both know that society and circumstances have not made it to be so. All we can do is wait for our next lives and hope they are better than this one.’

He nodded, giving his hand a tender squeeze before standing and disappearing into the crowds. They never met again in that life but he looked back on that conversation fondly and wept when his ring turned to ash.”

~~~

“The boy in front of him glared, not backing down. ‘No! You leave him alone, you big bully!’

He looked to the larger, older boy in front of his protector. This one was mean looking and was clearly not going to leave them alone until he got what he wanted. So, he pulled on his protector’s sleeve, gaining his attention. As he did so, he could feel the memories of three other lives settle into place, memories of this boy as a stately handmaiden and as a grizzled soldier sitting next to the memory of mourning someone he had yet to meet and never had in that life. 

He stumbled slightly, his protector and soulmate catching him. The older boy pushed past them, grabbing the thing he wanted and leaving them there. He curled into his soulmate, clinging tightly. ‘Don’t leave! Please, don’t leave me!’ He cried, knowing what it meant to be alone.

His soulmate shushed him gently, pulling him closer. ‘Of course not. I’ll always be here for you.’

His soulmate couldn’t have possibly known that he would get adopted the very next week, leaving him alone once again. Another life went by, longingly staring at the shifting colors on his ring and hoping to see his face in the streets. He never did see him again in that life.” 

~~~~

“He walked across the busy road, shoes slapping against the cobblestones in his haste to get to the other side. He glanced back to see someone crossing just behind him. Looking back up, a large carriage with a mean-looking driver came straight at the intersection. 

On instinct, he turned back, pushing the man behind him out of the way. He had just enough time to see their soul rings turn pink, tears gathering in his soulmate’s eyes, before he was trampled under the horses hooves.

He lay staring at the sky, his whole body aching as he struggled to breath. Someone knelt next to him, hands coming to either side of his face. ‘What’s your name?’ His soulmate asked desperately.

He didn’t have time to respond, his hand curling into his soulmate’s shirt as the light slipped from his eyes.”

~~~~~

“She stood at the stove, feeling the heat on her skin with her mind elsewhere. It was across the street, with the pretty housewife that looked so nice in pale purple, the one that made her ring turn pink. She’d known what that’d meant when they’d met, everyone knew what that meant. That didn’t mean anything in this world, where fate was cruel but society was crueler. So, there she stood, staring at the liquid bubbling on the stove while she thought of the smile that should have been for her, the laughter that always rang out the loudest when she told a joke. 

The front door opened and she knew her husband was home. The one her parents had said she’d have to marry, the one who’d asked for her hand for the prestige and children. She glanced at the knife beside her, head running wild with thoughts of taking the meat cleaver to her husband’s skull and running off with her soulmate. 

Instead, she picked up the ladle and sampled the soup, knowing the whim would never work. So, she lived her life, looking at her love over the garden gate, so close but too far.”

~~~~~~

“He set his bag down, looking around at the boarding school. He saw a lone boy, sitting off to the side. Thinking this was a good opportunity to make a friend, he walked over and tried to introduce himself. ‘Hi! I’m new here!’

The boy looked up at him, barely taking his attention from the book in his hands. ‘That’s nice.’

He was undeterred. ‘I’m-’

The boy shut the book with a snap. ‘I’m not interested in knowing anyone. I’m not here to make friends, and I don’t care what your name is.’ With that, he stood and walked away.

He didn’t get the chance to talk to him again until graduation. Even then, it was only briefly as the upperclassman shook his hand. He watched as their rings turned pink. Soon, the ceremony was over and he was running after the boy. ‘Wait!’ 

He sighed but did as asked, turning in his path to allow him to catch up. When he did, the older boy spoke first. ‘So, we’re soulmates. Do you think that changes anything?’

He shook his head, having grown from the naive boy he’d been. ‘No, I know it doesn’t. All I ask is that you give me a call if you do change your mind.’ He handed him a card with the number to his father’s law office that he was set to inherit.

The boy nodded and took the card. ‘Fine, I can make that deal. Don’t be disappointed if you never get a call from me.’

He waited for that phone to ring but knew it was useless the second his ring turned to ash in the middle of a courtroom. He had to excuse himself to wrap the ashes in a handkerchief, storing it near his heart and wiping tears away for the boy he’d never gotten to love.”

~~~~~~~

“She’d been going about her evening as usual, preparing a cup of tea, when a frantic knocking could be heard at her door. She put her mug down, pulling a shawl around her shoulders as she approached the door. ‘Who is it?’ She called.

Looking at her soul ring, she recognized the pale gray of desperation and hurried to yank it open, knowing what had happened. She’d met her soulmate a few years ago and knew just by looking at her that it was a clearly platonic relationship. The old woman held her arms out for the young teen that soon buried herself in her arms. ‘It’s storming again, Auntie.’

She laughed softly, petting the skittish girl’s hair as she ushered her inside. ‘I know dear. I’m sorry I didn’t expect you to be coming over. Would you like a cup of tea?’

The teen finally pulled away, curling around a pillow on the sofa. ‘That’d be nice, thank you.’

She nodded and moved to make another cup, her thoughts wandering. This was their ninth time together but the only one they’d ever known each other for besides their second life. She would never know if any of those were meant to be platonic or romantic but they sure were treasured. 

She finished making the cup and came to sit beside her soulmate. The teen uncurled slightly, the blanket around her shoulders staying in place but the pillow in her lap sliding down a bit. ‘I used to love thunderstorms you know?’

‘Was that in a past life or in this one?’ The older woman sat in her rocker, pulling a blanket over her lap and picking up the knitting from the basket. 

‘The first life. The rain never really got that intense in the mountains, so we only really saw the lightning from afar. It felt like a treat every time that happened.’

She hummed. ‘That must have been nice.’ She’d been indifferent to thunderstorms in all but one life and that was for a reason unrelated to the soul before her.

Their evening progressed as usual. The teen sipped her tea and calmed her nerves before picking up the book she’d been reading to the older woman, quickly flipping to where they’d stopped last and picking up from there. It was a quiet night, one of peace and little excitement. Then again, that was how she preferred it.”

~~~~~~~~

“He was looking through books, eyes scanning the spines. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he knew he’d know it when he found it. He looked with a fervor few would understand, as if he were drowning and the next book to catch his attention would be the air he needed. So, his finger trailed along the spines, checking how each book made him feel before he moved onto the next one, desperate for a book to catch his attention long enough for him to decide to check it out of the library.

He didn’t see the person until he’d run into her. Backing away quickly, he apologized. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.’ 

She just shrugged, bending to pick up the book she’d dropped. Her eyes paused on her hand. Looking down, he saw the pink soul ring. He smiled, bending down to help. ‘I guess I should be saying hello too.’

She giggled, a bubbling laugh that was sweet as sugar. ‘There’s no need for that.’ They both straightened up and she tucked her short hair behind her ear. ‘How about you just tell me what you’re looking so desperately for instead?’

He nodded. ‘I was simply looking for something to touch my very soul. Something so mind provoking or heart wrenching that it would surely evoke some sort of reaction from me.’

‘You use awfully big words there.’ Her hand bunched in her skirt as she stood, as if she didn’t want it there and would have much preferred trousers. 

‘There are times where large words are needed to convey large or complex ideas.’ He’d gotten into using the largest words he could whenever he could as it kept his family from pulling him out of a book to ask a question. 

She smiled. ‘That is true. There are many concepts that are easier to grasp using the harder words. However, it is also easier to use smaller words in order to fully engage with an audience. Do you concur?’

Thus, they spent the rest of the day getting to know each other. Sadly, he never saw her again when she left. A few weeks later, his soul ring turned to ash. The next day’s paper spoke of a woman going about in men’s clothes and being killed for it. He remembered the way his soulmate held himself in the skirt, the way he kept his hair as short as he was allowed and knew that his soulmate’s fate had just been told to him.”

~~~~~~~~~

Virgil closed the book and had to sit back in his chair. “Oh, shit.” He muttered.

Remus looked up from his drawing. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing. This book just described my past life in complete detail as far as my soulmate knew.”

Remus nodded, pausing his search for the perfect red. “That sounds like your soulmate wrote it. Do you remember anything from the other lives?”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, I’m lucky I remember that one. After all, most people don’t remember their past lives until they’ve met their soulmate.”

“That’s true. Do you know who wrote it?”

“Yeah.” Virgil flipped the book over to look at the author’s name. “Logan Ackroyd.”

Remus pulled his phone out and did a simple search, pulling up a video first. He moved from his spot on the floor to come sit beside his friend. He pressed play on the video, an interview with the author after his most recent book came out. 

“Tell me, Mr. Ackroyd, how do you come up with your stories?”

The man in the blue suit that Virgil would not admit was incredibly handsome laughed. “I actually get some scenes from my dreams. Most of my stories started as a scene midway through the plot that I then had to scramble to come up with the rest of the story for.”

“What do you do with the idea once you have it?”

“I generally will write it down as soon as I can so as not to lose it. Then, I’ll try to figure out what led the characters there and where they would go from it. Using that as a jumping point, I’ll then plan out the whole novel with a messy outline. That outline gets cleaned up before I start working on the actual piece of literature.”

“So you do think your work counts as literature?”

He sighed. “Literature is a word used to describe anything that has been written down. The word is generally used today to refer to great works of writing but the original usage of the word is still in effect today. Nevertheless, my writing has merit and is not to be discounted simply due to it being primarily same sex romance.”

The interviewer nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Mr. Ackroyd.”

The video ended and Remus went back to the previous tab, scrolling through the search. “It says here he’s having a book signing at the local bookstore in a few days. It’s a walk in kind of thing. He also doesn't seem  to be a big name just yet so it’s a good chance you’ll be able to meet him.”

Virgil bobbed his head side to side as he thought. “Yeah, or it could turn out to be a major coincidence and I embarrass myself in front of a bunch of people.”

Remus sighed. “Best case scenario?”

“We’ll be soulmates and we can live a life together.”

“Worst case scenario?”

“He’s not my soulmate and I get mocked and humiliated in front of a large crowd.”

“Most likely to happen?”

Virgil scrunched his nose. “I’ll wimp out and just get a book signed, not even mentioning soulmates.”

Remus nodded. “Good. Shoot for the best case, understand most likely could happen, don’t think about the worst case.”

Virgil emptied his lungs in one long breath before sucking air back in. “Okay. I can do this.” He shook his head once before he opened the book back to the front cover. “Time to reread this whole thing in two days.”

“Dude! That’s a really thick book!”

Virgil smiled. “I used to be able to go through books twice this size in that same time span. It’ll be fine.”

True to his word, Virgil finished the book in time for the signing. He went to the bookstore cafe combo and watched the staff set up the book signing area. The line wasn’t too long as it was so he finished his drink before joining it.

As he stood there, his eyes were drawn to his soul ring. He’d never paid much attention to it in his life but now he was trying desperately to take his mind off his anxiety. So, he put his feet on autopilot and let his mind rattle around trying to remember the meaning for the soul ring colors. His ring was blue, which meant that his soulmate was calm.

He got to the front of the line and moved to place his book on the table, only for Logan to reach for it at the same time. Their hands brushed and their eyes locked as the object passed between them. In that one moment, Virgil remembered all his past lives, from the city boy who’d died too early to a trans man whose life was taken from him. 

Logan was the first one to pull back, a small gasp escaping his lips at the rush of memories, each lining up with a book he’d written. He blinked, shaking his head as he tried to reorient himself. “May I know who I’m signing this to?” He asked as he opened the book to the front page.

“Virgil Dolle.” His hands twisted together as he tried to stop himself from being too overwhelmed by the rush of memories.

Logan nodded, writing something on a pair of notecards as well as signing the book. One notecard was stuck into the book, the other going into the pocket designed to hold the soul ring ashes. “Alright, Virgil, have a great day.” He handed the book back with a smile.

Virgil walked off, still dazed. Having been here before, the feet that had yet to be taken off autopilot took him to his favorite nook for reading. He curled up in it and looked at the autograph and notecard. The autograph read, ‘To my soulmate, Virgil Dolle. May you have as much joy reading this as I did writing it, Logan Ackroyd.’

His handwriting was strong and sure, no ink blots to show hesitance. Virgil decided he liked it. Picking up the notecard, he read that too. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to find you. It’s almost silly that you were right under my nose the whole time. I hope you can stay long enough for me to finish this and we can have a proper talk.’

Virgil smiled as he put the notecard back in the book. He decided to stay as he scanned the shelves to his left, looking for anything that caught his eye. He remembered that he’d found Logan’s book on this very shelf and a fondness filled his heart. He waited there for a few hours, playing games on his phone, browsing books, and getting up occasionally to order a drink or snack and silently let Logan know he was still there.

He was back in his nook, scrolling through a fanfiction and eating a honey-glazed bun when Logan appeared in his line of sight. He sat down beside him and stretched, his arms reaching above his head. Virgil giggled. “Long day?” He asked, his earlier nerves nowhere to be found as he was perfectly content in this space with someone he’d known for a thousand years.

Logan groaned. “The longest.” He laid his head on Virgil’s shoulder as Virgil turned off his phone and placed his snack on a napkin. They stayed like that for a minute, just soaking in the company neither had known they’d missed until they’d found it again.

Finally, Logan sat up. “Tell me about yourself.”

Virgil smiled. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything you’re willing to share. I want to know you and be known by you, I want to see what I’ve been missing the whole time we’ve been apart. I want to love you the way I was never allowed to love you. I want to know everything you have to say about a topic, your opinions on things, I want to know how your brain works.” Logan shrugged. “I want to know about you.”

Virgil smiled. “Well, I guess my birth is a good place to start.” 

So, they stayed in that bookstore café for a few more hours, telling each other their life stories and how they’d been caused to meet. They exchanged numbers and talked for hours on end about anything and everything, trying to make up for lost time.

[allycryz]

WOL Challenge #1: Tea

Prompt List Here 

(Doing these out of order and likely not every day)

Nerys x Y’shtola, Nerys x Emet-Selch

Immediately post 5.0 in the Crystarium, Hurt/Comfort* (*I plan on him coming back, just not sure how yet)

--

They need this celebration.

She drinks and toasts and smiles and accepts their congratulations. The relief on their faces and their voices–it must hurt. The sharp but gratifying pain of disinfecting a cut.

Nerys stays for a few hours and drinks cup after cup of water. Alcohol might dull the pain but she's too fragile and none of these people need to see her crumble.

The natural flow of a party happens, breaking into small groups for long conversations or dedicated drinking. Everyone will assume she is with another group. That's when she leaves. When they look for her (and they will, especially Thancred and Haurchefant) they will start with her rooms. And she will want that comfort but not now, not yet. 

The Cabinet of Curiosity is never locked. 

"The Exarch believes our wealth of information should be available to all." Moren had said, which seemed ironic even then. She is still a little angry at Urianger, but at least he has never pretended to not be secretive. At least, not in this same bold way.

The single attendant nods to her as she passes to the lower floors. Her feet take her to her favorite spot, even knowing it's twisting the knife. The fairy tale and folklore section is small and the evocative purple binding of the book jumps out at her.

Nerys removes Collected Folk Tales of Lakeland from the shelf. Traces the raised letter of the covers and all at once she can feel his lips against her ear. His teasing her into a reaction while commenting on her reading material.

"I wish the ones I heard as a child were collected somewhere."

"Ah, but they lose magic that way, don't they?" He breathes in her ear. "Some in the telling, but far more when we commit them to the page."

"Stupid, foolish," she mutters to herself, to his ghost, feeling rage and sorrow rise up in her. He had never lied to her, but there were so many stories he had never told. If he had, maybe they could have avoided all of it. If he had stopped to consider that maybe they–sundered beings though they were–could understand loss and hard choices and sacrifice. 

She is so sick of people not telling her things. 

She is so sick of people she loves dying for others to live on. What if there had been a way? To save them all without killing a man she loved?

Nerys puts the book away as her lips and chin start shaking. The dam in her breaks and she can do nothing about it. Not when her body recognizes you are alone and it is quiet and no one is here and you need to break down.

So she breaks down.

Somehow she manages to get to a table and chair, muffling her sobs in her hands. Struggling to keep quiet when she wants to scream and howl. The attendant is far enough away but she takes no chances.

Whatever strength is left in her is gone. Whatever joy she found in the last hours is gone. Just like Ardbert and just like…

She reaches the post-sobbing stage of crying, to where tears run down her face and she sniffles but the worst has passed. Nerys wipes at her eyes with her sleeves. There are no tissues here, she will have to leave or just sniffle for a long time.

Someone walks down the stairs. 

Nerys uncurls herself, scrubbing roughly at her cheeks. It won't fool anyone. Maybe they won’t mention it. She turns in the chair.

Y'shtola reaches the floor and walks towards her. In each hand she carries a large mug with steam wafting from it. 

"We're not supposed to have food or drink in here," Nerys croaks.

"Will you tell Moren?" Y'shtola asks, a bemused expression on her pretty face.

"Not if you don't." Nerys accepts her cup, cradling it in her hands. It's red tea with the perfect amount of cream added to it. When she sips, she finds it's also the strength and sweetness she prefers. 

She would choose black tea over red most times but it is late and she shouldn't have something that will keep her up.

"It's perfect," she says. "Ah...will you sit?"

Y'shtola nods and takes the other chair at the table. A long silence stretches over them as Nerys watches the steam rise. It isn't uncomfortable and they might both be happy to sit in quiet like that the rest of the evening.

But there is a hint of expectation. Y’shtola would like to know what has Nerys so distraught, if she doesn't already.

"I…" Nerys swallows. "It could have been different. It should have been different."

Y'shtola raises her cup to her lips, sampling her own tea before setting it down. "What would you have done differently?"

"I didn't know then what I know now. Or could have guessed but–there must have been a moment I could have reached him. Some way I missed."

Y'shtola's voice is soft. "He could have also chosen differently. I wish he had."

Nerys looks up at that. There is a gentle sadness in Y'shtola's expression. She is not one for regrets, making it all the more jarring. 

"You do?"

"I do not excuse a single thing he did. Nor, do I think do you."

"If he lived, it wouldn't be a matter of 'all is forgiven'," says Nerys. Just as it hasn't been for Yotsuyu or Fordola. And the scale of their crimes are far different compared to Emet’s. There are many who will never forgive them and they are allowed to do so.

Just as...if he had lived; she would not have demanded any of her comrades or allies forgive him. 

"But he might have made some amends. And he might have come to terms with the fact that our cause was as just as his, even if we are sundered." Y'shtola shakes her head. "He liked us, truly. Perhaps we could have changed his mind."

And Nerys, broken down and tired and her guards gone, says it out loud. "I think I was falling in love with him."

And Y'shtola reaches out and clasps her hand. Her fingers are warm and strong and Nerys hasn’t held them since the night they almost lost her in Rhalgr’s Reach. "I had a notion."

Nerys lets out a shaky, choked breath. "It was far too recent to have done anything. Not that...even if it had started when we first met, who was I in the grand scheme of his life? Even if I was someone he knew once before the sundering… I am not them now. None of us are."

She hasn't told them any of Emet's insinuations from the Ladder, what Hythlodaeus said, Emet's shock when Ardbert joined with her.

But Y'shtola doesn't need that to understand. "Mortals and immortals alike find reasons to control others. None of them are valid in my mind."

"No, no you're right. I...guess I am indulging a little much in pity right now."

"You can indulge tonight. I keep thinking similar things about our friend." Y'shtola squeezes her fingers. "In another lifetime, he could have been so much more to us."

Nerys looks at her and feels like she could say anything. Confess anything. Y'shtola's presence gives her strength she thought she had spent. It always has. No wonder Nerys is in love with her.

She could actually tell her that now, in this sacred space of trust and honesty. And how farcical, that now when she thinks she could actually say it, could brave the possibility of Y'shtola turning her down-

-it is not the right time. Y'shtola deserves a confession not tied to grief or other people. She deserves for a time wholly dedicated to her. Even if the response is "thank you but I don't feel the same," Y’shtola deserves that care and kindness as her friend and as the person she is.

It is the type of dramatic irony so present in the comedic plays Emperor Solus commissioned during his reign. All they need are siblings in disguise and a throughline on the fluidity of gender and attraction to make it a true Solus Comedy.

Instead, she says "Y'shtola...will you stay with me a while? We can talk about anything at all, I just...would like your company."

Y'shtola smiles. "I picked the large mugs for a reason."

[goldenmazzello]

Lay all your love on me | Part 1

(I don't own this gif. Credits to the owner)

Warning: Flashbacks. Language. Mentions of poor mental health, angst.

W/C: 2.8k.

A/N: Hello! This is the first part of Lay all your love on me. You can find the next parts on my pinned masterlist here.

MASTERLIST 

Your last day on set has finally arrived. It's amazing how time flies when you're busy doing things you really love, surrounded by magnificient people. It makes you forget about your every day routine and to have some fun from time to time.

Everybody was getting their make-up done for the last day of filming. As you entered the trailer in order to get yours done, a sweet, delicate voice called you.

"(Y/n)! Are you ready for our last day?" Lucy asked with a bright smile on her face while sitting on her personalized black chair, which had her name written at the back.

You smiled. "To be honest, I'm not doing too well, I'm gonna miss you guys so much." You said with a pouty face. Lucy said she would miss all of you too. 

“Oh, nice baby bump!” 

You furrowed your brows but then you remembered. You were wearing a fake silicone belly, since your character was going to be pregnant in that scene. 

“Yeah, he’s kicking so hard.” You joked. 

You sat on your chair as your assistant helped you put your wig.  You laughed at your reflection in the mirror. "I still can't used to this wig." You found it odd to wear a blonde wig.

“At least they didn’t give you a perm!” Joe appeared holding two cups of coffee on each of his hands. “Here you have, my wonderful wife.” he approached you and gave you one of the cups. You laughed at his comments. 

“Thank you, Mr. Deacon.” You thanked him and left a kiss on his cheek.

Joe bringing you coffee on set every morning became a habit, one you were very delighted with. He was so kind with you that you swore your heart could just melt for every little thing he did for you. 

And while drinking your coffee, you remembered your very first day on set and how you and Joe started talking. 

Filming had already started by your first day on set. Today, you would meet the entire cast of the wonderful movie you were going to take part in. You felt an overwhelming joy for being part of such an incredible project, not only because it was a big step in your career as an actress, but also because you were a Queen fan. And it was your very first time in London.

Your very first scene was Freddie’s birthday party. You greeted all of your new cast mates before paying attention to the director’s indications. 

You sat between two of your cast mates. One of them was wearing a long-haired blonde wig and the other a long-haired brown one with a strange fringe. You were wearing a wig as well. It was a black-haired one with a fringe and low pony tails falling over your shoulders. Your eyes had a beautiful emerald eye-shadow which you weren’t very comfortable with but you didn’t care, you were another person now, it was your job.

As they started filming, you kept a conversation with the actor that played John Deacon’s role, your husband, of who you didn't remember his name. You smile at each other and them you both joined the conversation that the others were having about Freddie’s life as his mom stood up and looked for family pictures.

The director decided to take some breaks in between the scenes. It was a good opportunity to introduce yourself and to make some new friends. 

“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Ben.” said the blonde one who was next to you and you told him your name. The other actors joined him and all of you started talking. There was something strange in one of them, the one who was next to you and introduced himself as Joe. Why was he talking so weird? 

“Why are you doing a bad American accent?” You asked him laughing. He furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, he looked as if he was trying to find the words to say. “B-but, t-that’s my voice.” he said confused. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” You said and covered your face with your hands. That’s why you don’t have friends, stupid, you said to yourself. 

Your face was burning and you felt absolutely embarrassed. How long have you been on set? Three hours? And you were already causing trouble. 

He laughed. “Nevermind. What an awesome compliment. I mean, I’ve been working on it so hard and you thought that I was actually British but...What’s wrong with my voice? I think it’s a pretty convincing American accent. Anyway, thanks for the compliment.” 

“I’m really really sorry, I don’t know why I said that.” Your face was still red. You wished the Earth would swallow you, you wanted to disappear from his sight. He put his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. I really meant what I’ve said, it was a nice compliment, I’m prouder of myself now!” He assured you and gave you an expression that indicated everything was okay and there wasn’t anything bad at what you had said, he wasn’t mad at that. 

You weren’t very convinced but after getting closer to him the following days, you realized that he was telling you the truth and there wasn’t anything you should worry about. After that, you both talked about each other’s lives. You found out he lived in New York, just as you. He was from there but you were from New Jersey. You told him how you ended up moving to New York to study and work on your acting career. Since that day, you both became very good friends. And the same thing happened with Ben, Gwilym, Rami and Lucy, you became close to them because of your new friendship with Joe. 

“Let’s take a picture for Instagram.” Joe suggested. You stood next to him, with your right hand covering half of your mouth showing surprise and Joe put one of his hands on your fake belly and the other did the same as yours. 

Lucy took the photo. 

@Joe_Mazzello: Say hi to the Deacon family! @(y/n)(y/s/n) #BohemianRhapsody #Queen #DeaconFamily 

~

The director was giving the last indications for the scene. We will rock you. You were on a sofa next to Joe, having a conversation as Ben did the same with the actress who played his wife and the one who was Gwilym’s wife sat there looking at him, while he was looking at Rami, completely annoyed. The girls were very good actresses but unfortunately, they weren’t very close to the rest of the cast and won’t be joining the future tour press since they have another projects in the pipeline. 

“You look so funny in that blonde wig.” Joe teased you, knowing that you hated it. 

Actually, Joe wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful, as always, but he wasn't bold enough to do it.

"Shut up or I'll take your wig off." You threatened him, he mocked you and rested his head on your shoulder.

And after that, Gwilym ordered everybody to join him. He came up with the beat of a new song he had been working on. Suddenly, all of you were clapping your hands at the third beat as Rami appeared and apologized for being late. He asked what was going on and Gwilym explained he wanted to give the audience a song they could perform and be part of it and you all began to sing and clap your hands.

"Cut!" The director shouted.

And everything was done. There were no scenes left, nothing else. After that, Rami suggested to go and have coffee. All of you were sat on the floor and drinking your coffee.

"I can't believe it's our last day." You said.

"I still remember the very first time you were on set." Gwilym said. "And the odd American accent." he moved his gaze from you to Joe and laughed.

"Oh no, please, I'm still ashamed of that." You begged him not no bring that back.

Memories from set were mentioned as you took a sip of coffee. You had a big smile on your face as you remembered probably one of the best days of your life and the best memory on set.

"Who's coming over?" You asked Rami, who was taking his crown off and put in on your head, you laughed.

"I don't know, darling. Maybe some fans." He shrugged. He got used to talking like Freddie.

After Freddie's party scene in Garden Lodge, the director suggedted to take a break and said that they had some guests on set that day.

"I thought we were going to film the I want to break free music video now." Gwilym said thoughtful with his hand on his chin.

"Hey mates, look who are here today!" Ben said as he, Joe and Lucy stood next to you, Rami and Gwilym and pointed at the door.

You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw them.

Brian May and Roger Taylor were a few feet away from you. Brian and Roger, from Queen, your favorite band, your idols.

"Hey folks, How are you doing today?" Asked Brian with a charming smile. 

Everybody greeted them but you. You were in shock, your face was as white as a sheet and your jaw was slacked. Lucy seemed to notice you and held your hand. 

Joe put his hand in your back and rubbed it softly. “Let’s go outside and catch some fresh air.” 

“Hey, who’s this pretty lady?” Roger asked. He took off his black glasses. 

“(Y/n) are you okay?” Lucy asked worried and the four men next to you turned to look. 

Oh God, you were absolutely nervous. Never in your craziest dreams you thought about having this opportunity. You knew that Brian and Roger sometimes visited the set but you didn’t think they would do it a day you were there. 

“I-I-I’m (Y/n)...” you extended your shaky hand. “Oh sorry for this, but I’m a big fan of Queen and...Oh God I can’t believe it!” Roger laughed and took your hand and shook it. You thought you were going to faint. You could feel your knees weaken. 

“No! I’m okay” You were shaking.

“Wow, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve seen some pictures of you here on set with these amazing people, you’re doing amazing.” He said and Brian nodded. 

“We’re finally meeting!” Brian said and you smiled with watery eyes. 

Joe wondered what made you deal with so much pain, you'd never said anything about that. He felt his heart broke at the mere thought of you being in pain.

Brian and Roger were absolutely grateful for your words. 

“I feel like I’m dreaming.” You laughed nervously. “You guys don’t have an idea of how much I appreciate you, your music helped me to heal so much pain and I will be forever grateful for that. I wanna show you something.” You said as you uncover your left wrist from your sleeve. You had a beautiful butterfly tattooed and under it, a lyric from one of your favorite songs by Queen, Spread your wings. “I’ve had this for over 12 years now and one of my biggest wishes was to show it to both of you someday and to thank you for everything."

“I’m glad our music help you in any possible way.” Brian said “And your tattoo is amazing. John would be very pleased If he saw it” You smiled. 

“I love it.” Roger said. “Hey Bri, why don’t we take a photo with her for Instagram?” 

“That would be nice.” 

Oh my God. 

"Let me be your photographer." Rami asked Brian for his phone and took some photos of your tattoo and others of you with them. A few minutes after that, your phone buzzed. Queen has tagged you on a post. 

@OfficialQueenMusic: “So glad to meet a fan today that will be part of our upcoming movie. Thank you for sharing your story with us @(y/n)(y/s/n) #BohemianRhapsody” 

That was, by far, the best day of your entire life. 

“Hey, come back to Earth, where are you?” Ben asked moving a hand in your face. You shook your head. 

“I was thinking about the first time I met Brian and Roger.” You blushed and he laughed.

“Oh, the day you almost pass out” Ben joked and you slapped him on his arm. “Hey, Am I telling a lie?” 

“Of course I almost pass out, my eyes were lucky to see Brian and Roger in person.” You and Ben giggled. 

“I’m going to miss you, do you know that?” Ben asked. 

“So do I!” You hugged him. Smiling. "You know I'm going to visit you."

Those weeks on set made you realize how lucky you were to find such incredible people. After years and years of being alone in your misery. After the countless nights you cried yourself to sleep and feeling like a piece of shit for being so alone in this world, everything was making sense now. 

You never told them about what you had been through. Being a teenager wasn’t easy. You wanted people to destroy the concept that your teenage years are supposed to be fun and those are the best years of your life because when you hit your late 20s, responsibilities are hard to manage and everything seems to be falling apart. Why couldn’t you be happy now?

Now, that you were 30, that everything was left behind. You wished you could say that you were a happy teenager and you didn’t have to fake a smile and pretend everything was okay. There were days you barely could get out of your house and see other people, or even worse, some days you couldn’t get out of bed and shower because there wasn’t any motivation at all. And no one understood. No one knew how hard it was being you, having such an stressful life that you worried about every little thing and it seemed you would never be at peace. You never felt safe. How hard it was to interact with others without thinking that they just did it to be nice to you or that they were desperately waiting for you to shut your fucking mouth. Isolation didn’t feel right. Loneliness didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right at all. You couldn’t keep pretending to be happy, you needed a reason to keep holding on, something that made you believe that your life was going to change, you wanted to be back on your feet and to know that all of that pain was gone.

Maybe it wasn’t so hard to be you, and eventually, you would find out where you belonged. You felt it was taking forever and you couldn’t wait for things to get better. You knew that someday things would be better and that your day would come. Sometimes you wished someone would save you, but you knew that you had to save yourself. If only you could find what you've been looking for. "How could this happen to me? "was the only thing that was always on your mind. You were sick of this life, you wanted to scream. You felt out of place, you were sick of feeling so left out.

And at that moment, you knew that your 18-year-old-self would be proud of you. Proud of the woman you had become and that now, all of your worries were left behind. You didn’t have to worry about that again, but it was still hard to open your heart and tell people about it. You weren’t embarrassed, it was part of you, part of your story but you didn’t want people to pity you. 

You didn’t realize you were almost crying until Joe spoke. 

“What’s going on?” He hugged you. Your vision was blurry, it was difficult for you to see clearly. You wiped your tears with your thumb and you chuckled. 

“I’m very emotional today. I’m grateful for everything that this movie brought me, especially the five of you.” 

There was a broad smile on Joe’s face. “Well, I’m glad you say that because you won’t get rid of me so easily, huh?” He joked. Joe always knew how to make you smile. But he was right, you lived like 30 minutes away from him, you would see each other everyday. “I have a list of places we’re visiting after coming back to New York.” 

“That’s why I love you.” You hugged him again. He smiled.

Joe felt something on his chest. He wished that I love you meant something else than being loved as a friend, but at the same time, he didn’t want to feel like this, he didn’t want to be in love again. Since his last girlfriend cheated on him with his friend, he couldn’t feel anything for someone. All of his dates failed and he decided to take some time for himself.

But there was something Joe couldn’t deny, when you were near, everything seemed so easy, he could look into your eyes and forget the world. 

“I love you even more.” 

[skullrock]

the partners, chapter ten - Steve x Reader

chapter ten - how soon is now?

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: In the aftermath, you and Steve find comfort in each other. 

warnings: swearing and an overwhelming amount of fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. this is it, folks. we have the epilogue left. if you stayed with me this entire time - thank you. this is my first longfic and it was a blast. thank you for the kind comments and interactions with this story. it means everything to me. one more chap to go babes. hope you enjoy this one <3

===

Steve has a lot of housekeeping to do.

He talks to your parents on a payphone at the hospital once a day. They’re in Europe and it’s taking them a while to get back, so they communicate this way. It’s awkward and weird for Steve to introduce himself, stumbling over his words – “Hi, I’m Steve Harrington. I’m your daughter’s partner. Like, at the station? But we also – we might – yeah. Anyway, she’s hurt pretty bad.” They tell him how much they appreciate him though, and he figures he’s had worse “meet the parents” scenarios before.

In between waiting to see you and sleeping on the floor, Sam Owens takes him into an empty conference room within the hospital. Steve tells him everything – the gut feeling that something was off about the Chief, the meddling of the evidence, the underground base, the bar, the building permits, everything. Owens nods solemnly as Steve speaks. It’s a lot to get through, and by the time Steve’s done explaining, his throat hurts.

“It’s taken care of,” Owens says simply, patting the top of Steve’s hand. “And we are looking into other properties to make sure they aren’t infiltrated, too.”

Steve nods. He doesn’t know if he can even trust Owens right now, but he’s too exhausted and worn to put up much of a fight.

“Are you doing okay?” Owens asks.

Steve doesn’t know how to answer. He leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath. Finally, he says, “I haven’t been doing okay for a long time.”

Owens nods sympathetically and pulls out a paper pad and pen. “We have some of the best therapists in the country, if you’d want to take a look at the programs. I’ll give you the information.” Owens pauses to write, then looks back up with a smile. “I’ll prescribe you some Ativan, too. Just to take the edge off.”

Steve nods weakly. Owens shoves the paper towards Steve who takes it and folds it into the uniform he is still wearing. He’s been asked numerous times to go home to clean and change, but he refuses, scared to lose the chance to see you if he’s gone when you wake. Owens leans back in his chair now, hands crossing over his chest. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Steve nods again.

“You exhibited… phenomenal skills when dealing with this case,” Owens starts. “Your attention to detail and drive to continue is something to be admired. The willpower you have and how strong you’ve been –“

“I haven’t been strong,” Steve interrupts. “I just… hid the pain very well.”

Owens shrugs. “You’re still a tough son of a bitch.”

Steve laughs.

“Your expertise is something that could really be helpful in the FBI, or CIA.”

If Steve were drinking, he would do a spit-take. “Are you serious?” he asks incredulously, leaning so far forward he almost falls out of his chair. “Me? FBI? CIA?”

“Just something to think about,” Owens says. “If you think you’re interested, give me a call. But before then….” Owens eyes shine. “We need an interim police Chief until we can get someone better in there. What do you say?”

Steve blinks. “Are you asking me to be acting Chief of Police in Hawkins?” Owens nods and Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Bullshit. I’m just a kid.”

“A kid with a hell of a lot of knowledge on all the things that have happened in this town. A kid with the will to keep going and do what’s right.” Owens sighs. “Look, you’re not going to have all the power – you’re just a sitting Chief. You’re already part of the force, so see it as a promotion. Just until we can find someone new.”

Steve swallows hard, his head racing, but he can’t help the smile that curves the ends of his lips. “Jesus.When do I start?”

He can’t wait to see his dad’s stupid face when he tells him.

===

Steve eventually does leave the hospital, because he wants to change and shower and buy you something nice. The thought didn’t even cross his mind until the Party showed up, all sporting either flowers or chocolates or movies for you. Robin and Dustin hug Steve tightly, and Steve’s eyes beam when he tells them of his promotion.

“He even said I could be part of the FBI,” Steve says lowly.

“Congrats,” Robin says. “Now please go change your clothes.”

And so he does, changing into the same outfit he wore the first time you both hung out. He grabs the most expensive bouquet at the florist, knowing full well he was about to be broke, then uses what little he has left to spare to buy you chocolates. He goes for a card but decides that he should probably use his words. Also, you probably couldn’t really read right now, what with the enormous concussion you’re sporting.

He’s sitting on the floor with the bouquet in hand – he insisted it was personally delivered – when the nurses tell him he can see you. He jumps up and pauses – his palms are sweaty, his heartbeat is through the roof, and he feels dizzy. It’s like being on a first date, or something; but he figures that’s what happens when the love you’ve been suppressing for months comes to you in one night.

You’re sitting up in bed and eating Jell-O when Steve bursts in, holding a huge bouquet of every flower known to man and a box of chocolates. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was Valentine’s Day.

“Hey,” you say, smiling broadly and taking him in. Last time you saw him was in a dimly lit bar lounge. He looks a lot more handsome here.

“Hi,” he says back. He stills before kicking into action, walking towards you. He awkwardly places the bouquet beside the other flowers people had brought and he sits the chocolates on your tray. “I figured maybe you’d like something that wasn’t hospital food.”

“I don’t know,” you beam. “Hospital Jell-O is pretty good.”

Steve laughs quietly as he sits on the chair next to you. You’re looking pretty rough – sporting a black eye, bruises and cuts over your face, your ribs wrapped up and your legs bandaged. Every movement hurts you and the concussion has you feeling dizzy and downright miserable. But all you did when you woke up was ask for Steve, and now he’s here. The sight of him adds ten years to your life and subsides the pain.

“You, uh,” he says. “Still look beautiful.”

You snort. “Okay.”

“I mean it!”

“Hotter than Mia Sara?”

“Always,” he grins, but it falters. “I need to talk to you.”

You put your Jell-O cup down. “Steve, we –“

“Please.”

You sigh and nod curtly. He sighs as well and runs a hand through his hair before starting. “It’s the worst feeling in the world to know that I got you into this. This was all my fault. And… and if I was just straight with you from the start, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He swallows hard and fights off the painful feeling in his throat, signaling tears. “I was a dick. A total, complete asshole. And I don’t deserve for you to accept my apology. But I will tell you every single day for the rest of our lives that I am so, so sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you for this,” you say. “I’d die over and over again if it meant saving you and your cute ass.” You pause to let Steve roll his eyes, then continue. “I’m mad that you told me you didn’t love me. I’m mad at the mixed signals. I’m mad that you used to – you used to pick me up and twirl me, hold my hand.” You bite your lip. “Steve, you looked at me like I was the only girl in the world.”

“Because you are,” he says, reaching out and clasping your hand. “You are everything to me.”

“Then why did you say you couldn’t love me? Because you didn’t want me to get caught up in everything?” Steve nods, avoiding your eyes. You laugh. “Steve, here’s the thing. When someone loves someone, they’d go to the ends of the earth for them. When you told me you didn’t love me, it just spurred me on. It made me mad, yeah, but I still loved you. Nothing you could say could change that.” You laugh again and gesture to yourself. “Dude. I’d literally die for you. I almost did.”

Steve can’t stop the tears now, and they feel warm as they run down his cheeks. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I thought that if I acted like I didn’t love you, they couldn’t hurt you.”

“I understand,” you say gently. “I know. But no evil can stop love, Steve. And you’re kind of an idiot for trying to think otherwise.”

Steve laughs sadly. “Calling me an idiot, just like old times.”

You gently grab his chin and tilt him towards you. “If there’s one thing I have learned in the past – however many days I was out – it’s that you’re not an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fall downward. “Then what am I?” he asks quietly, his voice cracking.

“You’re smart,” you start. “You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re funny. You’re caring. You’re kind. Fast learner. Wholesome. Helpful. Inspiring.” You don’t notice that you’re leaning forward until you’re right at his lips. You smile softly. “Devilishly handsome.” You rest your forehead on his, your thumb caressing his. His hand cups your face and your eyes brim with tears. “You’re incredible, Steve.”

When your lips meet, it feels like everything lost has been found. It feels like the missing pieces are finally set into place. Like the void within your chest has been filled. It’s warm, gentle, adoring. Steve’s thumb caresses your cheekbone and he melts into it, a smile forming on his lips. He feels like everything is right. He feels like he’s home.

When you part, you both can’t help the comically large smiles that form on your face. Steve’s thumb continues its course on your cheekbone as he whispers, “I’ve wanted to do that since you first walked into the station in that stupid blue uniform.”

You shake your head. “Bet you tell all the girls that.”

The next kiss is passionate, hands touching wherever they could reach. It’s intoxicating – Steve is a better kisser than you thought. Your hands tangle in his hair and you pull him towards you. Despite the dizziness in your head, you continue – it’s been entirely too long of a wait. He gets up, ready to climb on top of you, when a voice behind him shouts, “Excuse me!”

Steve whirls around and finds a nurse, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, I’m – helping her – with her Jell-O.”

“Helping her with something, alright,” he huffs. “Hands off. I don’t care if you’re her partner or not.”

Steve blushes deeply and you do, too, biting your lip and trying to hide your bashful smile. Steve sits again, grabbing an unused pillow on your bed and using it to cover himself. Yeah, it’s probably a bad look to get a boner when the girl you love is lying in bed, concussed and broken, but this is Steve. What can one expect? The nurse checks on your vitals and gives you some painkillers, leaving with a stern look towards Steve.

You look to him, holding his hand again. “What now?”

Steve sighs. “Now you sign about a hundred documents saying that you won’t tell anyone what you saw. And then you get better and we both go to therapy.” Steve smiles softly. “And then after that, I have a thousand dates to take you on.”

“Just a thousand?” you tease.

“I’ll take you on more if you’re good.”

There’s a comfortable silence. You both just want to be near each other, hear each other’s breath, the rustling of clothes. 

“Steve,” you say quietly, playing with his fingers. “I love you.”

It’s music to his ears. Softly, he says it back. “I love you, too.”

“Partners?” you ask.

Steve smiles. “Partners.”

===

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr@sourapplebaby @harringtown @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch @peanutem@mochminnie @willowrose99 @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred​ @marvels-gurl @willowrose99 @andyl394​ @ssanjuniperoo @davnwillcome @darth-el​ @troop-scoop​

[what-big-teeth]

Reveal (Cambion Boyfriend, pt. 1)

Gender Neutral Reader x Male Monster [Part 2] [Part 3] tw: mentions of alcohol ; kidnapping White rum, mint leaves, soda water, lime juice, and sugar… “Your mojito on the rocks. Enjoy!”

The middle-aged diner gives you a hearty thanks and slaps a fresh 20 dollar bill on the counter with a brown hand. He yells for you to keep the change over the noisy weekend crowd, and you’re more than happy to take the offer. 

It’s another step closer to paying your way through graduate school. 

At first, the idea of becoming a bartender after college didn’t sit well with your parents. Not because of the job choice, however. Your aunt’s popular mixology book collection is something they’re rather proud of. No, according to your folks, taking a long break from school could lead to you never going back. 

They suggested taking out a few student loans to make ends meet. Live on campus to deal with a much lower residency fee. You agreed to staying in a dorm, but you couldn’t stomach being in near-perpetual debt for years to come. Very few people have gone through a higher educational career without incurring any debt. The odds of such a thing happening to you are astronomical. But damnit if you were at least going to try and curb whatever debt you could with your paychecks. 

It helped that your place of employment was one of the more popular restaurants in town. Owned by a local, African-American family, Papa Ruben’s gained acclaim with time and great customer service. Hell, you were one of the diner’s loyal customers before Ben helped you land your job. Since starting, you’ve seen many familiar faces at the bar, but also just as many newcomers. Mostly family members joined by an undergrad or graduate student. And with the quick, accurate service you provide, many customers tip handsomely. 

As you make a mental note to thank your aunt (who also served as your teacher), another rush of customers approach the barstools. All of them look at you expectantly, with the first customer who arrived dipping a pale hand into her purse. 

You grin and flex your fingers.

Two gin and tonics; a round of tequila shots, four daiquiris, six red eyes, a sex on the beach. Change, bills, and even a few slips with scrawled phone numbers pile into your tip jar. The former is more important than the latter. More so as your heart is set on someone already. Too bad he wasn’t able to come tonight…

“I’ll take a Black Velvet in a Pilsner if you’ve got one.”

You pause from wiping down a cleaned, glass tumbler, perking up. There’s only one person you know who heavily favors such a drink.

A Black woman with deep brown skin leans onto the counter with her jacketed forearms. She shoves her thick natural hair—pulled back into a long braid— over her shoulder. Then grins.

“How’s my favorite barkeep?”

Her smile is infectious. “Holy shit, Jacqui? Is that you?!”

“The one and only,” she says. “Well, the one Jacqui that really matters.”

You chuckle, setting aside the tumbler. “I can’t believe you’re here in the flesh. I haven’t seen you in, what, four months?”

Her painted, red lips tremble and her smile falters.

“Five, actually.” 

She goes quiet soon after and glances your way. For a moment, you think the odd light in her dark brown eyes is something akin to guilt. But it’s gone the next second, replaced by her usual confidence.

“But I’m back in town for a few days. You haven’t gone on break, have you?” 

You shake your head, already knowing what she plans to ask.

“Got a minute to catch up?”

“For you? More than. Cass will be here soon to start her shift. When she comes, I’ll go on break.”

Jacqui plasters another grin on her face while you get to work on her drink. Once it’s ready, you set it in front of her on a coaster. Her hand quickly replaces yours as she takes a long sip. 

“Thanks, babe. When it’s time, you know where to go.”

And with that, she slips off her barstool and past the bustling crowd gathering for more rounds. 

This isn’t the first time Jacqui’s made herself at home at the restaurant. Mainly because she and Ben go back to their teenage years and he’s always had a soft spot for her. He treats her like the older sister he never had, mainly as all his elder siblings are boys. In turn, she treats him like a little brother. 

It’s understandable; not having anyone around to claim you while growing up can get lonely. Ben will be just as pleased to see her, if he hasn’t already.

Cass arrives on time at a quarter ‘til nine, punctual as always. As she finishes tying her apron, she nods at you and effortlessly takes over once you finish making an appletini. 

You squeeze past the busy wait staff and their large trays, waving at a few regulars who greet you by name. By the time you reach the break room, your stiff legs are crying out for relief. And you swiftly provide it by plopping down onto the old couch opposite the door. 

The cushions are sunken and the fabric’s fading, but it’s part of Papa Ruben’s earlier days. The Moore family is wonderfully sentimental and this room is chock-full of older times. Photos of Papa Ruben himself, a younger snaggletoothed Ben and his two older brothers, their parents. There’s even a photo of a teenaged Jacqui surrounded by the Moore family. 

Speaking of, the door opens, revealing Jacqui carrying a large sleeve of fries. She hops onto the couch next to you, offering some of her food. You snag four piping hot fries, juggling them between your hands.

“Courtesy of Ben?” you ask.

“Of course! My little bro always looks out for me.”

You lick your fingertips free of salt and ‘secret seasoning’ to cool the surface burns. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Just like how the Moores would welcome you with open arms.”

She goes quiet, her expression turning neutral. She stares down at her food instead of replying. 

“Whenever you visit, you always say you haven’t found a place to put down your roots,” you say. “What if that place is here with the Moores? With me and Cam?”

“It can’t be.” She places the still warm sleeve between the two of you. “I’ve done some stupid shit in the past, and it always find me when I let my guard down. I don’t want Ben, the Moores, Cam or you to get dragged into my mess. It’s something I have to deal with myself.”

You’ve had inklings about Jacqui’s rough past, but never any of the details. This is the closest she’s ever come to emphasizing just how bad things are. You try to think of a way to reason with her, but the break room’s door opens again. 

Ben pokes his head inside, prompting Jacqui to slide a convincing smile onto her face. 

“Here to offer me more free food?” she says with humor. “How sweet!”

“And have you eat my family out of house and home? No thanks,” he says. 

You stifle a laugh, already used to their bickering. Ben rolls his eyes as Jacqui calls him a brat, opening the door fully while rubbing a golden brown hand over his bald head. 

“To answer your question, someone’s here to see you. He rushed right over after I told him you were back in town.”

“You’re making it sound like I committed vehicular terror on the way over.” 

A pleasant tingle runs down your spine at the familiar voice, in spite of the slight snark. 

“With the way you drive,” Ben says, stepping out of the doorway, “Can it be anything else?”

“What’s that? You don’t want to bum another ride in the future?”

At that, Ben’s mouth snaps shut. You all know he’d rather enjoy some peace and space in a car not shared with his brothers. Cam steps through the doorway, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought.”

It doesn’t matter how many times you see him. Every time is new and comparable to that quiet moment during a movie night in college when you realized your feelings for him. A charming smile stretches the rich, golden brown skin of Can’s face and his thick lips as he steps past Ben.

Before you’re able to calm your pulse, Jacqui hops off the couch. You’re able to save her lukewarm fries before they fall over as she pulls Cam into a tight hug. 

“Good luck dealing with her,” Ben says.

After reminding you of the end of your break, he heads out. Leaving you to watch Jacqui smack Cam on the back a few times while laughing.

“Look at you!” Jacqui pulls away from him, giving him a quick look over. “I see you decided to upgrade your fashion sense to show off your good looks. Finally. The red bomber jacket and Timbs look good, but the bottle coke glasses? Not so much.”

“Tell that to my eye doctor,” he says. 

You watch as they fall into a seamless conversation, filled with snark and laughter. Jacqui even reaches up to playfully tug at one of the short dreadlocks on top of his head. As she comments on how well they pair with his fade haircut, a heavy weight forms in your stomach at the sight. They’re just friends and you know this without a doubt. But that doesn’t stop the bitter jealousy from welling up inside. 

As if hearing your thoughts, Cam’s gaze finds yours and he smiles. His dark brown eyes make your stomach flutter in the best of ways.  

“I-I thought you had a test to study for,” you manage to say. 

“Still do,” Cam says. “But it’s kinda hard to think on an empty stomach. My brain needs some fuel and a break. Plus, I wanted to check on you since you mentioned tonight would be busy.”

Heat fills your cheeks as a small smile stretches your lips. 

“Thanks,” you say. The light in Cam’s eyes grows soft. 

Of course. We’re friends, after all.

”The moment between the two of you swiftly ends. Because that’s all you are. Just friends. You nod in reply, helping yourself to a few of Jacqui’s fries as she teases him about gunning for an anthropology degree. Cam just rolls his eyes at her before fishing his smartphone from his jacket. 

“Order’s ready. I should get back to studying.” He glances up at you with a caring smile. “Let me know if you want to cancel tomorrow’s trip to the bakery. I’ll understand if you’re too tired—”

“I’ll be fine,” you quickly say, “promise.”

“Cool. Have a good night, and be safe on your way home.”

As Cam heads out with one last wave, a gentle tug pulls the now crumpled sleeve of cold fries from your hands. Jacqui lifts a brow at the food then you, giving you a knowing look.

“Oh honey.”

You stiffen. Your brain attempts to think of any excuse or denial, but falls short. You lean back against the couch, sighing in defeat.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Sure, to Ben and me. But to Cam? Not so much, which is ridiculous. You haven’t tried kissing the living daylights out of him yet?”

“Jacqui.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question. You guys grew up together, lost contact, then reconnected in college. What’s the hold up?”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I don’t want to mess up things between us. Yeah, I may like him more as a friend, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

A gentle touch grips your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t ruin anything by letting him know. Seriously.”

You just shake your head, attempting to give Jacqui a reassuring smile. The concerned light in her eyes tells you it falls horribly short. 

“You should join us tomorrow morning after visiting the Moores,” you say, getting up. “Let me know if you want another Black Velvet, alright?”

You leave before Jacqui is able to get another word in. 

The rest of your shift is busy, but uneventful. You accrue a huge amount of tips from pleased customers and more slips bearing phone numbers. You and Cass split the money based on the number of hours you both work. When she offers to take some of the number off your hands, you let her. The rest, you crumple and toss into the trash. 

The doors to Papa Ruben’s closes at 11 PM sharp, with you, Cass, Ben, and the other staff members congratulating each other on a job immensely well done. After grabbing your belongings, you bid your co-workers a good night.

With the way your stiff legs are throbbing, you’re wishing you hadn’t parked down the way to avoid the early rush. You sigh with relief as your vehicle comes into view. Just a little bit more, and you’ll be on your way home. 

You aren’t able to take another step. 

The grip on your upper arm surprises you. It tightens to a painful vice and brings you to your knees. 

Quick as lightning, another hand swiftly grabs the back of your neck, forcing your nose to the concrete. 

“If you try and scream,” a feminine voice says, “that breath will be your last.”

There’s no hesitation in your assailant’s voice. Just a menacing promise laced with danger. You fight against your mounting fear and swallow audibly. Then go lax.

“Good.”

You barely hear the sound of shoes scraping against the sidewalk over your frantic pulse.

“Well?” an unfamiliar, male voice asks.

“You were right. This one’s got the pheromonal stink of a cambion on them. Strong, too.”

“Bear with it a bit longer.” You can hear a smile in the male’s voice. “It’ll be a scent relegated to your memories soon enough.”

One moment you hear shuffling. The next, your wrists are tightly bound together. A piece of cloth is forced past your teeth and tied tightly behind your neck.

Then, a sharp prick to your wrist. Your body seizes.

“Pleasant dreams,” the female voice mocks.

Black spots begin to overtake your vision as you’re lifted from the ground. 

“Let’s go. We’ve got a trap to set.”

It’s the last thing you hear before everything goes dark. 

[im-gay-and-mentally-unstable]

~Vampire! Nicphie Au~

Sophie was bored. Not in the way she felt most of the time, the curse of being centuries old, she was horrendously, unexplainably, unorthodoxly bored. She wanted to scream, to destroy, to set fire to her mansion and never look back, to do something that wasn't so plain and mundane. Instead, she sat next to the window in her bedroom, nails tapping on the surface. As she watched the pouring rain, quickly turning into a storm, she wished for a miracle.

Where were the good old days? She yearned for them. The rush, the pretence, the intrigue, the bloodshed. Life now was, to the liking of the ordinary folk, more peaceful. And she detested it. Blood and death had their magnetism. She didn't expect their simple little brains to comprehend it, of course.

But there were days where she was worshipped as a goddess. People brought her their treasures just for the price of a small smile, she seduced monarchs, then drained them of blood and left with their finest jewellery. And now she was forgotten, a mere monster in the face of mortals.

It was just her and the stupid, dilapidating mansion she spent all her time stuck in. She had to lower herself to drinking the utterly disgusting animal blood, since the hunt for prey became too dangerous. To her misfortune, people didn't just come to her gates and wait to get slaughtered.

Well, they usually didn't. But now, the universe has listened to her pleas and sent her a fun thing to play with. Before her door stood a woman, tall and muscular, curiously inspecting the Victorian architecture of the house.

Sophie's expression brightened, she was delighted by the turn of events. She almost jumped to her feet in anticipation of a feast, but then stopped herself and regained her dignity and composure. “Just nice and easy darling, you can't scare her away,” she told herself as she reapplied her lipstick and fixed her hair and graciously came down the stairs. She was sure she was a sight to behold, even though she's never seen herself in mirrors.

As she opened the front door, the woman didn't seem to be bothered even a slightest bit.

“Well hello darling, may I ask what are you doing here?” asked Sophie, trying to make her voice as pleasant as possible.

“Trying not to get hit by a lightening,” said the woman sarcastically.

“A truly spectacular idea. I was thinking about why are you on my porch though.”

“Oh. Of course. I can leave if you want me to, I just assumed this house was abandoned. I wanted to hide from the storm.”

“Why don't you come inside? It's too cold for you here.”

She hesitated, but then gratefully accepted the invite, she was already soaking and shivering.

“Don't worry, darling, I don't bite,” said Sophie, smirking at her own joke.

Sophie finally managed to get a good look on her as she took off her coat and hat. She forgot just how mesmerizing humans were. How soft her skin looked to touch, how lively and gleaming her eyes were, how she smelled like black coffee and old books...

No. Not all humans were quite as charming, that was for sure. She hoped her blood would taste at least half as good as she smelled like.

She wanted to try already, but she contained herself. All the good things need time, right?

“So, what's your name, darling?”

“Nicola.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I'm Sophie. Would you like some tea?”

“Isn't it too late for tea?”

“That's where you are mistaken, it's never too late for tea.”

“Really, I don't want to cause you any trouble.”

“Oh no, don't worry, it's a pleasure to have a visitor. I'm quite lonely here.”

Nicola already wasn't paying attention to her, she was curiously inspecting Sopie's long time collection of books and paintings, most of them centuries old. She definitely was going to stay for a while.

Sophie guided her to the dining hall, also used as a ballroom before, in its long-gone glorious times, and let her seat herself as she walked into the kitchen. The shrivelled, old silhouette of her servant stood there, his face blank and eyes empty. He was the only one now, before, she had plenty of them, ready to make her tiniest frivolous wishes come true, but they were gone now, died of having too much of their blood removed or old age.

“Make us some tea, will you?”

The man nodded.

“Good.” Sophie already begun walking away. Just looking at him disgusted her, she despised old people, she always did, maybe because she was eternally young and beautiful and was scared of being like them one day. But there was no way she would and it kept her satisfied.

When she came back, Nicola was inspecting the gramophone Sophie kept at one of her shelves.

“It's a bit dusty but it still should work,” she nonchalantly commented. The other woman turned, surprised by the lack of noise Sophie made.

“I would be surprised. It would need some serious fixing, it was maintained terribly and it shows.”

“Nonsense, it works just fine,” said Sophie and tried to turn it on, but then failed.

“See?”

And then Sophie slapped it and surprisingly, it started playing. Nicola almost choked at the sight. “You're not supposed to do that.”

“But it worked, so I see no problem.”

“You could have damaged it beyond repair, do you have any idea how much this stuff costs-”

Sophie chuckled. “I bought it. “

“Well, but you still shouldn't be so careless, it's a true rarity-”

“It sure is,” interrupted Sophie, not seeing anything important about it. But then she had an idea. She smiled and asked: “Would you spare me a dance?”

“I don't dance.”

“Truly a pity. Come on, just one quick round,” Sophie gave her the most charming and adorable smile she could manage. And Nicola reluctantly agreed.

Dancing was the room's purpose. It was made for this, even after years of waiting to fulfil its cause. The notes filled the perfectly acoustical room. The pure sound was only interrupted by their footsteps and quit banter.

Sophie couldn't wait for the next part of the evening, her personal favourite. The hunt. All of her body was aching to finally enjoy some tasty food, but she stayed patient. Her visitor was quite a pleasant company and she hasn't danced in years and she preferred giving her victims false sense of safety.

As the song was getting to its climax, they were getting nearer each other, their bodies intertwined. Sophie could feel her heath, the warmth and the softness of her skin, her strong, gentle arms around her waist, her breath so close to her face.

And Sophie realised how striking she was. What a waste is it going to be when she is going to be drained to a bloodless shell, left to die, long before fulfilling all her dreams and goals. Maybe if she lived longer, she could have been captured into a painting or a sculpture, just like the ones that Sophie loved so much to collect. Maybe she would make a good servant... Sophie quickly dismissed the thought.

She enjoyed her being so close and Nicola seemed to feel the same way. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of every place their bodies touched. What was the last time she felt like this? Was it even this century?

As the last notes were played, their lips collided, both leaning in at the same time with the same intention. As their lips touched, Nicola just closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment for a while. And everything seemed fine for a while, just like things were meant to be this way.

But then she remembered the odd, otherworldly cold and the sharpness of her teeth and against her brain's wishes, she pulled away.

“You're a vampire,” she remarked.

“Of course I am, darling. You aren't surprised? That's unfortunate, I didn't want to spoil the fun so soon. So, I suppose you aren't in for another dance? Ah, a shame, really. Now, would you mind if we skipped the formalities and went straight to the part where I make you my dinner? No? Ah, you don't want to die, do you?” Sophie scoffed. “Well, of course, you can try to run away. I'll give you a headstart, how kind of me, don't you think? Go on darling, I don't have all day. One...”

She let go of her and Nicola trailed off, disappearing behind the numerous corridors. Sophie counted to ten loudly, enjoy the way each word rolled from her tongue. She wasn't in a hurry. If she ran after her, it would be no fun, no mortal could ever equal to a vampire. And of course, running in high heels would be too bothersome.

So instead, she strolled slowly, enjoying her inevitable victory. Oh, how she missed this. The joy running through her veins, keeping her wide awake...

She walked behind the first corridor, not expecting Nicola to be there. The thrown knife caught her by surprise. It missed only by millimetres. Nicola lurked in the shadows, waiting for her. Her eyes lacked any trace of warmth or mercy.

“What? You thought I would go down without a fight?”

Another knife flew at Sophie. The shot was deadly and precise. She certainly knew what she was doing.

“You're going to have to try little harder than that.”

Another knife Sophie barely had time to dodge. Her irritation grew with every second. She didn't play games she wasn't sure she could win. And this was one of them.

“I've come prepared for you. I mean, I came here specifically for you. Do you honestly think I just came to your door by chance? I don't want to spoil the surprise for you, but people actually notice if you don't wear anything other than Victorian gowns and avoid going outside at day.”

A vampire hunter then. Words can't describe the way Sophie despised their kind.

“What? You are not so brave now the tables have turned? Or are you just not used to people at your level?”

Sophie scoffed and recomposed herself after barely dodging another knife, puzzled by where did she hide them all. “The fact that you consider yourself my equal amuses me. Well, about the time I actually put in a bit of effort, don't you think?”

She ran at Nicola. With one slash, she was going to rip her throat. It would have worked on almost everyone. But Nicola dodged and caught her hand and spined. Sophie unwillingly ended up pushed against the wall. Instantly, her arm shot up to Nicola's neck. The only thing stopping her from ending it was another knife, pushed against her chest, one stab away from her heart.

“This is quite unfortunate. What now? Do we kill each other?” stated Sophie calmly, fully aware of the checkmate situation they were in.

“That's pretty pointless, don't you think?”

“I'm not too keen on dying either.”

“Great, so let me go,” said Nicola.

“And what will stop you from killing me?”

“And if I wanted to, I'd have a full right to do so. You've murdered innocent people.”

“And what makes you think the vampires you've murdered weren't innocent?”

“You drink people's blood.”

“You eat animals. There's no difference.”

“I'm vegetarian.”

“That's your personal choice. I can't survive without blood.”

“Can't you survive on animal blood?”

“Listen, this is quite a tough moral debate to have and I'd rather not have it while being pressed to a wall with a knife this close.”

“I can't let you go.”

“Oh, am I that irresistible?”

“That's not what I m-”

Sophie leaned in closer, her lips almost touching Nicola's ear. “Really?”

“Yes. I don't want you shredding me to pieces the second you let go of me.”

“You don't trust me? You're very right not to do so, but my feelings are still hurt.”

Nicola sighed. “So, are we going to stay like this forever?”

“Just until you give up.”

“Just say forever then.”

“Why don't we spice things up a little then?”

“What-” The rest of the sentence was cut off after Sophie kissed her.

After a long time of trying to figure out who takes the lead, they had to breathe, well, Nicola had to breathe. “Maybe I'm staying for a cup of tea. Or two,” whispered Nicola between gasps for breath.

Sophie smirked and nodded, pulling her closer yet again. She was going to keep this one for a while.

[returningwriter]

A Night at the Lux

So this was posted before over on AO3 but because I don’t think I’ll be able to post much here today I present to you my weird little Supergirl/Lucifer crossover to tide you Tumblr folks over. Roll the intro hype!

"...Kara Zor-El what is it that you truly desire?”

A short and sweet story wherein Kara, while on assignment for CatCo in Los Angeles, finds herself at a nightclub called Lux and draws the attention of its annoyingly charming owner. There will be admissions of desires, singing and Kara deciding to stop being so weak about confronting Lena. Supergirl is about to dance with the Devil.

“You... at the end of all things, I thought about you..."

All in all, Kara felt that this trip to Los Angeles had been a roaring success and there had not been a single Supergirl emergency that required her attention. CatCo had sent her to cover a video-game convention something she had jumped at the chance to do. Especially after the last few months being one disaster after another. 

The Red Daughter and the dark mirror she’d been forced to stare into. The Crisis and carrying the burden of hope as Oliver had sacrificed his life for the multiverse and then coming back from that with Lena still hating her freaking guts thanks to Lex’s machinations and her own stupidity. It had been a rough year, even by her standards and she'd fought World Killers and evil Nazi Doppelgangers.

It hadn’t been all doom and gloom though, the Crisis and the following universal reboot meant that Kate and Barry were now only a phone call away and she had more masked friends than ever before with Nia and Brainy around. Alex was happy with Kelly and her extended family was strong even though it was missing a key member. None of that was the reason why she was in a nightclub called Lux with some of the reporters that had been covering the convention. No, she was here due to good old-fashioned peer pressure.

Truth be told, this place wasn’t her scene at all, she was a dive bar kind of girl and this place well it was too loud and glitzy. People watching from her safe spot in the corner while sipping her virgin Virgin Mary she counted down the minutes until she could go back to her hotel room.

Watching the club's patrons dance and drink the night away while wondering why there was a grand piano in a nightclub did take her mind of Lena though. Now, by her estimations, it was two more hours of this. Then she could make her exit without offending her peers and get back to the hotel to mope in private.

“Now I know every regular that comes through my doors, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a British accented voice said and when she looked up she was faced with what could best be described as a tall, dark and handsome man in a black suit with piercing eyes. How she had not heard him approach her private corner? She thought before she found herself strangely compelled to explains why she was here.

“I’m not from around here, actually, I’m in town on business but would really love to be back on the couch at home and... why am I telling you this?” she asked as the words fell out of her mouth and on a hunch she used her x-ray vision to be sure that this wasn’t an alien. But what she saw confused her more than anything. Because upon using her enhanced senses, he appeared like a glowing being of light.

“It’s a gift, people always seem to want to tell me things, Lucifer, Morningstar,” the man introduced himself while taking a seat across from her.

“Kara Zor… Kara Danvers,” she said almost saying Kara Zor-El before finding the willpower to resist the man’s annoyingly soothing voice and piercing gaze.

“Oh, you’re impressive Miss Danvers,” he laughed, and she wished she’d paid more attention to when Eliza had been trying to teach her about Earth religions because that name was so familiar.

“Lena doesn’t seem to think so, she thinks I’m downright vile right now,” she said and that was it. Who was this being? Because he, sure as heck wasn’t human or alien and she sure as heck didn’t need her mind probed right now. Especially by some smooth-voiced club owner and she felt anger and rage rising in her chest.

“What are you?” she demanded with a bit more steel to her voice while letting the mask of Kara Danvers, good-natured reporter, slip.

“Oh, hello there, I must say this whole duality of being you got going on here is very interesting, Kara Zor-El, and I told you already my name is Lucifer Morningstar,” he laughed and greeted her again.

“As in the Judeo-Christian devil? The one that fell?” she asked in disbelieve when it finally clicked, but she'd always been more of a science guild girl herself anyways ever since she was a kid on Krypton and Krypton didn't really have a devil analog in their pantheons aside from Vohc the Breaker.

“The one and only and you look like one Constantine’s little friends, you know... one of those cape-wearing demi-gods that popped up after that little universal merger the other day,” he replied without any hint of not being serious while waving off the Crisis like it was just another Tuesday.

“How… how do you know all this?” she demanded and drained her Virgin Mary in one big gulp while her mind tried to process who she was sitting across from. Rao help her, not even going out clubbing albeit against her will could be simple.

“Let’s call it my unique outlook on the world, now Kara Zor-El what is it that you truly desire?” he asked and again those eyes bore down on her with the weight of ages behind them.

“I… want…” she stated saying through gritted teeth as she fought tooth and nail against what she wanted to admit. It was like a mental block, she knew what she wanted, but three years of denial wasn't easily overcome.

“Oh, this is fun, humans usually come right out and blurt out their darkest desires right away. I must admit, I haven’t had to work this hard for a confession in ages,” he laughed and clapped his hands together with unbridled glee.

“I want Lena Luthor! Now get out of my head Vohc!” she roared out switching from English to Kryptonian as she tore off her glasses and flashed her heat-vision at the insufferable being in front of her.

“My, my, my, that is a lot of pent up rage and emotions,” he chuckled and got to his feet seemingly satisfied with having gotten her to confess her desire for Lena.

“I want… Lena,” she whispered to herself while looking down at her hands and all of a sudden, memories of every touch, every gesture and every shared look between her and the raven-haired beauty came flooding back.

“How about a song? I bet you have a wonderful singing voice Miss Zor-El,” the infuriating devil, well literal Devil, asked her and offered her his hand.

Glaring up at him, with half a mind to fry him with a blast of heat-vision but judging from his personality he’d probably like that. Screw it, she thought to herself and took his hand with as much force as she could, which to her considerable pleasure made him wince.

“The Devil Went Down to Georgia, I assume you know it?” she asked with a smirk as he slithered behind the grand piano and then the club went oddly silent.

“Cheeky… I like it,” the Devil laughed and started gliding his fingers over the black and whites keys of the piano.

Devil Went Down to Georgia, sung with gusto, gave way to All Along the Watchtower at Lucifer’s request which then slipped into Moon River before her requesting that they sing Running Home To You which she had sung at Barry’s wedding. By this point, some of her colleagues from the other outlets had started filming the impromptu concert on their phones but she paid them no heed. This was fun and Lucy wasn't half-bad on the piano or when it came to singing.

“This next song is for a very special girl, her name is Lena,” she said softly before launching into Total Eclipse of the Heart and when the notes died down Lucifer was looking at her with something akin to sympathetic sadness. While she was pretty sure she was crying as she took off her glasses and placed them on the piano.

“It isn't simply a desire that you feel for this Lena is it?” he asked her as she looked around the club, then down at him before giving a small smile and shaking her head.

"Well providing distractions is something I'm very good at, how about another song, something more upbeat? We make a pretty good duet you know," the said with a devilish grin.

“Yeah, we do, but you for the record are still a jerk,” she said and accepted another drink from a passing waitress who was kinda cute and this drink wasn't virginal at all, no she was pretty sure this one fucked.

“Then let's do another song, what will it be?” he asked without missing a beat and she grinned at him thankful for the distraction and for some reason this particular cocktail was working freaking wonders for her.

“Piano Man! Scoot over!” she exclaimed and the groan and the look of horror on his face made the lame suggestion so totally worth it as she sat down next to him.

“Oh, you play too?” he asked sounding impressed and gave up the keys to her for which she flashed him a beaming smile.

“Didn't you know? I’m all sorts of impressive... Lucy,” she assured him with a tipsy giggle.

The night passed in a blur of drinks, music, dancing and an impromptu bar brawl when someone got too handsy with one of the cute waitresses. Thus, both her and her new best friend, the Devil, had stepped in to settle things. With her being a bit tipsy she might have gotten a bit too excited but Lucy assured that the hole in the wall could easily be patched up. Along with the handsy bro she'd thrown through the wall

"Your waitresses are all so cute!" she giggled with her glasses off and forgotten on top of the grand piano as they danced together. Oh yes, she was tipsy, potentially drunk and dancing with the Devil, but she was having the best time without any expectations weighing her down.

"And you are very drunk Miss Zor-El," he laughed and twirled her around before letting her go but he made sure she bumped into one of the said cute waitresses.

"Hi I'm Kara... you're like super cute!" she giggled to the waitress and the girl in a very short dress actually smiled back at her.

"And I'm... off the clock," the girl said with a grin before taking her hands and placing them firmly on her hips. Oh, this was new and she kinda liked it.

When she woke up the next day, she was back in her hotel room and thankfully by herself although that waitress had been cute, her endgame was Lena. Cracking her eye open to see that on the nightstand there was an apple and a bottle of water along with a handwritten note that read: You’re heavier then you look, come back for an encore anytime. L. p.s. Emily says hi

“Of course… an apple,” she chuckled but that made her head hurt. What had been in those drinks she wondered as she picked up the apple and took a bite. By Rao it was delicious, but then again Lucy would know a thing or two about apples.

Then she made the mistake of looking at her phone and to say it was blowing up would have been an understatement. Barry, Kate, Alex, Kelly, Nia, Brainy, Eliza, and even J’onn had messaged her while she slept. What had she done? What had she texted?

“Not good…” she muttered to herself as she checked the first message which was from Barry along with a link to a video.

Can’t believe you had a concert without me! I thought we were Super Friends and isn’t Lena that girl who hates you though? The message read and she clicked the link with a sense of dread.

“This next song is for a very special girl, her name is Lena,” she heard herself saying before Lucifer started playing the first few bars to Total Eclipse of the Heart.

Watching the video it was clear as day from her body language and singing how special Lena was to her and while this was a good thing, she did want the greeny-eyed genius, she hadn’t intended for her singing to the absent beauty to become quite so public.

“Oh shiitake-mushrooms!” she cursed and opened the message from Kate which was not as, let’s say, tactfully put as Barry’s.

So how was Narnia? Also how come I didn’t know you could sing sunshine? So much for me being a detective I guess. Call me if you need to talk the text from her cowled friend in Gotham read followed by a winky face and she wanted to crawl under the covers and die.

Love you and I’m here when you need to talk the message from Alex read. It was in a reply from one she'd sent at 4 AM which read, I'm bi or maybe pan and drunk and dancing with a girl! Don't tell Lena!?! and she smiled despite how gosh-darned awkward this all was.

The rest of her friends' messages were more along the lines of lovably mocking in their comments or outright praising her performance, but the one person who hadn’t texted her was Lena. Not that she’d had a text from the former CEO in ages anyways.

“I want Lena,” she repeated what she’d confessed to Lucifer the night before to herself and it still rang true in her heart and mind.

But if last night had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t just want to be friends with Lena again. No, she wanted to fly there and kiss the stubborn woman senseless after talking some sense into her thick skull. They’d both made mistakes but for Rao's sake, they weren’t teenagers.

Thinking about how to best approach getting to Lena as she munched on her apple before rolling off the bed. Giving a loud groan before gabbing the water bottle and chugging it to try to relieve her hangover because whatever was in the drinks at Lux wasn’t of this Earth that was for sure. Then a hot shower and room-service by an open window with the sun on her skin took care of the rest of her hangover.

Making the tactical decision of ignoring her phone, aside from sending a thank you text to Alex and sending ones that read something to the effect of; I’ll get you next time you do something stupid to Barry and Kate. It was almost time to leave the safety of the hotel room, so she packed up her carry-on and got on the flight back home. Of course, she would have preferred to fly home under her own power but CatCo was paying for her tickets and it would look weird if she didn’t use them.

Admittedly, the radio silence while on the plane was a welcome diversion too because it gave her time to think and to plan out her next moves. Getting Lana to see that she was truly sorry would require more than moping around like some heartbroken teenager, she was Kara Zor-El for Rao’s sake and it was time to act like it. Once she landed in National City, she headed straight for the nearest place to change into her Supergirl suit.

Lena would still be at work of course but that meant that she had time to put her plan into action. Drawing in a deep breath before taking off towards the sky she rose higher and higher until she broke free of the bonds of Earth. Her destination was a small asteroid, though covered in eons worth of dust it was in fact made of a special type of crystal and she needed one. Cutting a piece from the astroid using her heat-vision, she turned the crystal over in her hands and inspected it, this would do nicely.

Looking at the stars and then to the Sun, she smiled, feeling the rays of the yellow sun kiss her skin. Lena was her Sun, and she's been in an eclipse for far too long. It was well overdue she fixed that.

Returning from near-Earth space, she crashed through Earth’s atmosphere on course for the Fortress of Solitude. Lena had been here not so long ago and even in the cold of the Artic the woman had been stunning and she swore that one day she would bring her back here. Shaking away her day-dreams, she took her freshly harvested crystal and plugged it into one of the pillar style consoles that dotted the Fortress.

“Format this crystal and download all data on Krypton to it along with all information on my personal history,” she instructed the Fortress’s system and the crystal started pulsating with a faint blue light.

While the crystal was being prepared, she started zooming around the fortress, constructing a small device that would be able to read and display the information on the crystal. Combing information in the Fortress’s archives with her own living knowledge from Krypton the small metallic device took shape.

“Data upload complete Kara Zor-El,” the Fortress droned and the crystal now pulsating with blue light popped out of the console.

“Thank you,” she said slipped it into the reader she’d constructed. The entirety of Krypton’s history flashed before her along with her own family’s history.

Time for the final steps of her plan. Flying back to National City she stopped at a cute little stationery store while in full costume. There she bought a card and a box along with some red ribbon. The star-truck cashier was very helpful and as a matter of fact, so was the florist across the street when she asked him for a single longstemmed red rose.

It was getting dark so Lena would be back home by now and she had everything ready. The gift was wrapped, the card was written, and the rose would indicate that this wasn’t just a friendly gesture, she hoped. Taking another one of those deep breaths she flew to Lena’s apartment and landed gently on her balcony.

Through the glass, she could see the raven-haired beauty bent over her laptop with her hair up in a tight ponytail and wearing a blue dress minus the heels. If there ever had been any doubt about her wanting Lena, the sight of the raven-haired goddess working dispelled those doubts like the first rays of the sun when they hit the morning dew. She wanted Lena with all her Kryptonian heart but she had to approach this carefully.

“Here goes nothing,” she said to herself and knocked on the glass while hiding the gifts behind her back.

The knocking made Lena jump and then frown at the sight of her but she was used to being frowned at by now. Waving through the window, she watched the woman walk across her apartment and slide the door open.

“Kara I…” Lena started saying no doubt going to ask her to leave but this wasn’t about being nice or polite, she had something to say and she wasn’t going to be stopped or sent away. Supergirl didn't back down from a challenge or a fight and this was a fight for the most precious thing in her life.

“Lena, all I ask is that you listen to me and then I’ll go,” she said with as much authority as she could muster while being in the presence of Lena like this.

“Very well, speak then,” Lena said with a raised eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I messed up badly and I know that I’ve told you that before, but last night in L.A. I realized something and well these are for you,” she said and pulled the long-stemmed rose and wrapped gift from behind her back.

Lena looked at the rose and the small white box with the red bow and then back up at her. The look of confusion on that beautiful pale face was clear as day and she smiled back at her friend while holding out the gifts silently begging her to take them.

“I want to make amends for not telling you about... well everything, so this is everything,” she said and slowly Lena reached out and took the rose and then the small box.

“Everything?” the ever-curious raven-haired beauty asked and pulled the ribbon of the box to open it. The crystal pulsed when the box was opened bathing Lena's face in ethereal blue light.

“That crystal holds the entirety of Krypton’s history and knowledge and everything about me. It’s who I was and who I am, Kara Zor-El, everything,” she said softly, and it felt like she was introducing herself to Lena for the first time.

“The rose, it’s a thank you and something I should have given you a long time ago. A thank you... for filling my office with flowers back when we met... for buying CatCo and for believing in me and letting me be myself... for letting me write my Pulitzer winning article at your desk… for well everything,” she said stopping herself before going on too long and smiled at Lena again with hope in her heart because those memories were among her most cherished.

“Kara, what are you saying?” Lena asked in a moment of genuine confusion from the usually on-top of things woman followed by dawning realization.

“I’m saying that I get it now and that I want to start over again but do it right this time,” she said and leaned in placing a kiss on Lena’s cheek as softly as she could. Hold it together Danvers, she reminded herself, you're here on the hope that she will hear you out

“You… can’t just do that... not after…” Lena protested but didn’t push her away and Rao she smelled good.

“I am sorry, I will keep telling you that I’m sorry until the end of the universe. But Lena, I’ve seen the end and you want to know who I thought about when all seemed lost? What gave me hope? ” she asked and looked deep into those Kryptonite green eyes.

“No... please...” Lena tried to refuse but with her voice choking up and she could see fear flashing in those lovely green-eyes as those red lips trembled.

“You... at the end of all things, I thought about you and how I would never get the chance to see you again... to say I'm sorry again... to hold you again,” she spoke in almost a whisper with her lips almost touching Lena’s ear.

“You’re… not playing fair Kara,” Lena whispered back and she felt Lena's hand on her arm. They were the shaking hand of someone who was overwhelmed and afraid but she was getting through to her, she knew it.

“I’m telling you the whole truth. What you decide to do with it is up to you and when you want to talk things out I’ll be ready,” she said and as much as she wanted to kiss Lena right there and then, they weren’t there yet.

After a moment of silence with Lena holding onto her arm, she turned away while wiping away a tear and she got ready to fly off. Lena would need time to think and analyze as she always did but she’d said her piece and made her peace offering. But before she could go, Lena, pulled at her cape.

“Stay...” Lena asked in a very small voice while holding onto a handful of her cape and she smiled her happiest smile at the raven-haired woman who had always been the one. She knew that now.

“Only if you want me too,” she replied and turned around with Lena not letting go of her cape which pulled them dangerously close together. It was only when Lena started touching her cheek that thinking became very hard.

“I want you to stay… you’re not off the hook yet, but you’ve raised some interesting points that we need to explore,“ Lena said with her voice slowly gaining some of that confidence that she so loved and there was that smirk. That gosh-darned smirk and she felt herself melting inside from the look she was being given.

“That’s why I came... oh and in the name of full disclosure, there is a video online you should watch... then we can talk all night long if you want,” she said as she felt a small blush creeping into her cheeks. The Lena problem was not solved, not fully, but progress had been made and progress was something she could work with.

"Is that a promise... come on darling let's watch this embarrassing video of you, together," Lena said with her voice sounding husky and wait was she teasing her? It sounded like Lena Luthor was teasing her, then those ruby-red lips were pressed against her cheek and there was that kapow that Winn had told her about all those years ago. From just a kiss on the cheek, she felt those elusive fireworks go off and she allowed herself to be led into Lena's apartment for a long night of talking. Hope had been restored with a little help from the Devil.

Want to find out what happens next look right over HERE!

[zombiejoepino]

The Scavenger. CH: 3 (Cobb Vanth x OC fanfic)

Chapter 3: The Search 

simpFandom: The Mandalorian

Word count: 3636

Summary: Plog is searching from town to town for anything related to the missing Scavenger. The Marshal finds she is gone already.  

A/C: If you havent read the first parts, they are here and here. Also you can check them on my wattpad 

"I'm telling you, this is too much. I'm not paying for that piece of trash." The pale hooded man rose his arms and signed at the tiny hooded figure.

The Jawa just shook his arms and argued back that it was a fair price. It might be an old speeder but it works. He was trying to explain and then folded his arms, telling him to take it or leave.

Plog just frowned for a moment and handed him the bag with credits. The Jawa took the time to count it and shook his hand. He steps aside to let him check the old imperial speeder. The weapons were down but, it moved. For him, it looked like they put together whatever they found and just label it as imperial to get a fair price.

He muttered in his language and took off in the speeder.

He didn't like Captain Qod that much, yet, it meant protection for him. His gambling habits got him in a lot of trouble, Qod stood up for him in exchange for information. Plog was useful and sneaky to get intel from strangers or anyone. He knew everything about the town, what kind of drink you like, how many Hutts went around before they were all gone, even knew about the lone Jedi that years before helped that farm boy. He never saw them again.

Now, he was just an errand boy, looking for two bounty hunters and their prey. Probably they killed each other and tried to take the canister, who knows. There was a small chance that the woman was dead already. After all, it was the Captain's words to bring her dead or alive, he didn't care, he wanted back was his prize.

Plog wasn't exactly loyal to anyone but, he owed Qod, and the man was good at finding traitors and take them down personally, like the time he just threw one of his crew members out of the ship cause he giggled about his heist plans. Qod didn't like pranksters or jokers, he was serious with his matters. He had little tolerance for stupidity but, Plog a lucky card, he was silly and clumsy, yet, he was useful.

The first stop would be nearby towns, asking the right folks about two lousy hunters wouldn't be so hard. Those two weren't exactly low profile. They were loud, show-offs, always trying to demonstrate how strong they were, picking fights cause they could, ally with other hunters that were stupid enough to trust them and take the bounty from them. No honor amongst thieves.

But those stops would be useless. If those two are on the run, they would go to Mos Eisley's spaceport and take passage with anyone, leave with the canister forever. He hated the whole road to Eisley cause that meant problems; dust, Tusken Raiders, and long cold nights in the middle of nowhere. He loved the comfort and the luxury in the city that he disliked those dead areas and sleeping in the ground. That annoyed him the most.

...

The sunbeam made its entrance through the thin curtains aiming right at his face. The first rays were warm but not burning ones like the mid-day ones. He opened his eyes and quickly scanned the area. He studied the dirty white walls and dusty ground, the armor placed in a chair next to a helmet.

Cobb sat up and stretched a little. He had no idea how long he slept but it was time to start his duties. An idea bolted in his head and made him rushed to the room.

It was empty.

He sighed and shook his head, looking around last night's disaster; shattered glass on the floor, the bloodied and dirty bandages. He rubbed his temples to think.

Maybe it was the best if she was gone but he felt responsible for the girl. He was not a smooth-talker with strangers and worst, with women. He was rough with her and pushed too much. He didn't even ask if she was feeling better.

When you corner an animal, they jump on you, he thought. No reason why the girl snapped at him.

Cobb picked up the glasses and bandages, putting them into a small bin. Then, he fetched a clean shirt and tossed away the dirty one. He ran his fingers through the primitive like star-shaped scar with dots and hashes on his back. He hated every side of it, what it meant but, it was a reminder to keep fighting.

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts and rushed to put on the long-sleeved shirt. By the entrance, there was a slim guy with a hat and big rounded shades. He had small scars over his cheeks. When the Marshal stepped out, full armor and everything, he waved at him.

"Morning Marshal! How was last night's watch?" Marc flashed a friendly smile and shook hands with him.

"Nothing new, son. Creatures chasing each other. Not sign of the Dragon yet." Cobb adjusted the crimson bandanna across his neck.

"That must be a good sign, right? Maybe it's gone."

"Or just hunting somewhere else. Anyway, is the list ready?"

Both men walked together across the town making their way towards the bar. Cobb could hear Marc talking but was not paying too much attention, he kept wondering if the stranger was gone, maybe lost in the dunes, limping away from Sand People, or worst, found by the large Dragon.

His mind kept drifting. He thought about his time as a slave, how the women had it worst than anyone. He hoped that The Mining Collective or the Red Key Raiders wouldn't find her. The whole idea of what they do to young girls just made him sick.

He felt bad for thinking that and worst for not being able to help her. Damn, he wished she would listen to him and understand he had no shady intentions.

"And we need fuel." Marc's voice finally made some sense and snapped the gruesome thoughts in the Marshal's head.

Cobb frowned thinking about it and he started to nod. Marc rose a brow noticing the lost gaze and rephrased again.

"For the speeders. And extra for the young lady, your guest."

"My guest?" Cobb said.

"Aye, she got up early. Limped around and waited for the old Weequay to open the joint."

Cobb tried to act as cool as possible and told Marc to look for him later. He would fetch a soup and get them ready to go. The Marshal made his way into the joint and scanned the area looking for her.

The young redhead was near the counter having lunch; blue milk and slices of Ahrisa. She dipped the bread in the liquid and took a small bite. She finally looked at the Marshal but didn't say much. Just gave him a slight nod.

Cobb tried his best not to smile, he was glad that she was still around.

"Everything ok, Marshal?" Weequay spoke at him while he poured down a drink and slid a wooden bowl for him.

The Marshal nodded, gulped down his morning drink, and then took the bowl. He noticed the bartender's uneasy eyes when he looked back at the young redhead.

"Is it safe to keep her around?" The old one lowered his voice.

"Just for a few days, pal. Let's give her a break." Cobb sipped from the bowl.

Nath just kept her gaze down her plate and didn't dare to look back at the armored man. She was shamed about her behavior but was too proud to apologize. She heard his footsteps approaching her and looked up at him.

"Thought you were gone." He flashed a pearly smile.

Nath just shrugged and looked away. "I was about to but I was hungry, so, I hopped my way out and got here."

"You know you could ask for help, kid."

"You seemed tired. I don't wanna give you much trouble." She took another bite from the bread.

"How's the leg?"

"Better, it hurts at times but it's not that bad."

"Good. I'll bring more bacta spray then."

"Going somewhere, Marshal?"

"Out of town to get supplies. Do you need anything?" He placed the bowl on the table like he was about to sit down with her. He gave it a second thought and stood still.

"Just the fuel. I was hoping to put together a speeder with whatever was left from the crash."

"Whatever you were riding is gone. The rest is with us."

"Are they working properly? Maybe I can check them for you cause I took some pieces from them." She tried to stand up but the leg stung at that moment. She cursed quietly and sat back.

Cobb chuckled and placed his hand over her shoulder while looking at her.

"Don't sweat about it, kid. I'm sure they are ok" He reached the bowl and sipped it while reading out her expression. She didn't say anything but after giving it a long thought, she nodded at him.

"Well, you should trust me on this. They are gonna break down before you exit the town." She took another bite.

...

The streets were packed with junk dealers and other black-market folks, trying to shove you whatever piece of trash droid or strange food they had around. Plog just kept walking between them, trying to keep them away from his pockets.

He wasn't exactly a flashy man but, these lowlives can't tell the difference and are willing to steal anything they can find.

The pale man was uneasy for parking the speeder outside the dirty joint, Jawas or other scavengers always stopped long enough to take a piece or two. If he needed intel about the bounty hunters' whereabouts, that was the only place where he could go.

A smoky atmosphere crashed his face, followed by music and indistinct conversations between the folks around. Some helmets looked back at him, just checking the new stranger. Others just ignored him, no one started for too long.

Plog just moved around to catch up with the Zabrak bartender. He had mean looks, a horned head but quickly asked him if he needed a drink. Plog slid the credits on the counter and, the Zabrak took them fast.

"What are you looking for?"

"More like who. I dunno if you saw these guys around." He took out a puck that flashed the hologram of the two bounty hunters. The Zabrak examined the blueish image and made a face.

"Yeah, those two were around a couple of nights ago. They go around like bounty hunters but ain't exactly from the Guild. They got a reputation for joining bounty hunters from the Guild in their quests. When they have the proper opportunity, they shot down the Guild member and take the puck. It worked the first two times but those two are stupid. While they were drunk, they didn't stay quiet about their achievements and got The Guild's attention. There's a price for their heads so, my best guess is that they must be dead by now."

"Do you know who they were tracking the last time?"

"Some old Quarren."

"Did you see a woman or someone else with any of them?" Plog said.

"Not, I mean, the Quarren met with different people that day, all of them male. He even cut a deal with a scavenger." The bartender paused while his thoughts drifted for a moment.

"Now that I think about it, I can't tell if it was a woman or not. He or she wore a long tunic and mask. But I remember that scavenger cause those two followed him after taking down the Quarren. It was strange they just left him there to follow him or her. "

"Anything peculiar about the scavenger? Did they come back?"

"I haven't seen them after that day and the scavenger, I didn't pay much attention, you know how they are. Carrying trash bags, stealing whatever they can. Arguing with Jawas. Nothing else." The Zabrak poured himself a drink and shrugged. "Maybe talk to the Jawas." He joked.

"Yeah, right. They are gonna rip me off." Plog shook his head and left the counter. He was running out of ideas.

...

Her body plopped under the biker speeders, checking the cable hitches, patching up the fuel tube, and reached a small screwdriver from her bag as she adjusts the loose shift gear. Fixing things always made her feel better in any situation. She didn't mind the heat, the sweat, or the oil stains on her clothes. What mattered to her was making the speeder work.

Basic 101 for scavengers was being able to take someone's trash and turn it into a decent vehicle. Stealing was allowed if you didn't get caught. Cantinas were the best place to wait for your next hit. There is always someone that gets too drunk and passes out in the middle of the street.

That was the chance to take the finest pieces fast as you could before others showed up. It was a never-ending battle with Jawas. They were always in groups and worked faster, but if a human was smart enough, it would take the best parts first and leave the rest for the little scoundrels.

Nath didn't think of herself as the best mechanic from her town but, she was a pretty decent one. She kept a low profile most of the time and no one bothered her when she put together speeders or podracers, only if they paid a fair price.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the approaching footsteps and a voice.

"Thirsty?" He spoke and stopped next to the bike. The Marshal looked down at the curious woman and shook a small bottle with water.

"You bet but, I wanna finish this." She peeked out to look at him and return her attention to the bike. Her hand tried to reach a wrench.

"You should take a break, kid." The Marshal lowered down to hand her the wrench and smiled at her.

She puffed her cheeks and rolled her eyes. "Told you, I'm not a kid." She took the tool from his hands. Seconds later, her hand reached out of the bottle.

"Where did you learn to do this?" His eyes studied the bike and the tools around the ground, followed by small pieces from other ships or speeders.

"I was raised by scavengers, learned a few tricks from pilots, and picked one or two things from Jawas." Nath sipped the water. This weather was unbearable at times.

"Ever thought about starting your shop?" He kept examining the items around and, picked something that looked like a knife. It had old blood or oil stain. He couldn't tell by the color.

"It crossed my mind but I didn't worry too much when I worked f..." and she paused before she gave away something else. "Business is hard, you gotta commit yourself to one place and it's not my style."

"Staying in one place is not that bad, at least you can call it home." He shrugged and looked at her working.

"I'm not sure about that. I've been moving around since I was a kid, so home is not exactly something I look for."

"We all need one at some point."

"Not when you are being hunted down." She muttered to herself and tried to change the conversation. "What about you? Why Marshal and not bounty hunter if you have that armor?"

"Long story. But killing for pleasure is not my thing." He admitted.

"And killing in the name of the law is?" She chuckled.

There was a small silence, Cobb kept a serious expression and smirked.

"If they pull, I put them down." He said.

"So, you made your own rules for this town?"

"There's not much to follow, just don't step over your neighbor kinda thing. We look after each other."

"That's interesting. From where I come from, you have to watch your back all the time. I guess that's why I'm not made for places like this."

"You can't tell if you haven't tried it"

"Are you asking me to stay, sir?"

"I'm just saying."

"Sure." She flashed her tongue at him and kept her head down under the bike. Then she groaned when the oil leaked down her clothes and hands. "Dank farrik!" She yelled.

The Marshal chuckled and shook his head. He reached for an old rag to hand it to her. She snatched it from his hand to clean her dirty face.

He couldn't help himself to think that she looked cute with the dirt and oil stains across her fair skin and flushed delicate face. The contrast between those two ideas got him thinking but scratched the idea off his mind when the pale gaze met his.

Her eyes had a peculiar way to look at someone. This time they were friendly, curious about him, unlike last night. He swore that those soft blue eyes were cold and sharp with him, just like ice or whatever it looks like. He never got the chance to leave this planet, but he knew stories about those other worlds and snow.

Nath crawled out from under the bike and thumbed up at him.

"Ready to go, Marshal." She smiled at him.

"Thanks. And you can call me Cobb, you know."

"Well, I like calling you Marshal." She teased him. Cobb chuckled and held out his hand to help her.

She pulled herself up with a swift move but bumped her chest with him. His first reaction was to hold her still and not let her fall. She rested her hands over his chest. Their gazes lock for a moment and they froze right there.

Being close to him allowed her to see his features a little better. Even though his hair was grey already, he didn't look old. She thought that he was trying to look older than he was. She found herself studying his features again. Even breathing was something she didn't dare to do.

Cobb noticed a few looks from the locals and quickly moved his hands away to give her space.

"Good work, kid. I think the boys and I are ready to go." He excused himself and smiled at her.

The redhead smiled back, dusted off the sand from herself, and took the bottle from the ground. She took a large sip to refresh from the heat.

...

The tiny hooded figure just kept studying his speeder and nodding vigorously. He signed those pieces he wanted and, Plog just rolled his eyes. He looked around many times, making sure no one else was watching him with the group of Jawas and took out the small puck. He displayed the image of Nathsca and, they yelled gibberish in anger.

His jawaese was pretty bad yet, he understood briefly that the woman was around taking what rightfully belonged to them, that she had no reason to be a scavenger. They saw her taking off. She left behind most of her belongings but, she clung to an old silver canister. They wanted the canister. It was shiny.

Plog shook his head at them and quickly kept the puck back in his pockets. He paid the tiny hooded figures and pushed them away from his path. Some of them cursed at him but picked the pieces they wanted from the speeder.

A Jawa rushed after him and pulled his sleeve, Plog looked quite annoyed and folded his arms. "What now? I told you, anything you want but It needs to keep working."

The Jawa shook his head and signed at him while he whined. Plog squinted his eyes, listening to with attention, trying to put together all the ideas but he was pretty sure what the tiny one just told him. This was the first time that he met a Jawa that wanted something for himself.

"Off the map, you say?" He lowered to his level. The Jawa nodded as it explained quietly about the lost sandy areas in the west, an old mining place near a small town called Mos Pelgo. People thought it was gone, but this little guy saw the town; just farmers. When the speeders chase down the young scavenger, they were on the path to this town.

Plog slid a bag with credits for the little Jawa that rushed back with his kin but kept the bag for himself.

West. The unexplored dead area. He would go and tell the Captain with the risk of finding lone and empty dunes, taking the risk of getting attacked by the sand people, or worst, a Krayt Dragon. Qod was way scarier than the dragon. The dragon would eat you and, that was it. Qod would take his time to torture you before killing you.

The pale man jumped back in his speeder. He needed to get supplies, fuel, and a blaster. He thought about bringing muscle but, it was hard to trust anyone these days. Lone dunes or not, he was not gonna let some stranger or sand people take advantage of him. Shooting first and fast. Basic survival skills. He gave a second thought about bringing muscle.

tagged for the readers and thanks for reading too :3 : @simpfields @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sithcajunvalkyrie  @qrangcr  @rachel2003 @wolfangelwings @storytellerandwriter25  @beyond-antares @youmademeanolyphant  @kenobilover1009 

[judgement-free-sideblog]

Occupational hazards

Barry Berkman x Reader

Three part series: It was just another job, he doesn’t even had to kill anyone, but the way she looked at him was more dangerous than the bullets.

Part I Part II Part III

Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: Violence, cursing, blood, stalkers.

Part I

“I remember telling you to fuck off and stop calling me” You say answering the phone the fifth time it rings, knowing too well he won’t stop until you do “I made myself clear, don’t call me, don’t contact me, keep your stupid flowers and presents to yourself and stay the fuck away from me”

“Oh my little Y/N” Says his drunk voice in the other end “You know you like it, this little number of yours, pretending you don’t need a man will end as soon as you feel lonely, why don’t we speed things up and simply let me come up with you?” He said and you froze, how does he knew you were at the second floor of your house? You looked outside the window but couldn’t see anything, nervously you closed your sleeping robe with a tight knot suddenly feeling exposed “You don’t have to be so shy, I already know what is behind that” He said and you toss the phone aside, but you could still listen to his laugh, when will this nightmare end??

“Fuck you Richard!!!” You scream at the phone, but he had already hung up. You closed all the windows and went straight to your bathroom cabinets, it had to be there.

You finally found it, a few years back when your name was still unknown and your main job was stacking candles and towels in a store, and before you had a sociopath for an ex, you became friends with this weird and really sweet bald guy on Pottery Barn, you helped him redecorate his room and you even talk once in a while over the phone, or at least until last year when he said he was going back to Chechnya to visit his family, but before he went away, and after he met the charming man you were dating and seeing the bruises in your arms he gave you a card and told you, if you ever need to get rid of that guy just call this number.

You light on a cigarette, and sit on the floor of your bathroom thinking, what does get rid of meant? Hank, judging by his tattoos, was not an entirely innocent folk, but at this point you were desperate, and you cursed yourself for ever start dating a man like that, the all charming and thoughtful movie producer, you knew your career will be damaged forever if you kept avoiding him but coming back to be treated like garbage and not being able to eat, dress or think on your own was not an option. You finally gathered the courage and dialled the number.

“Fuches” a raspy voice said on the other end.

“Hi, ammm” you were not sure what exactly where you going to say.

“Who is this? Hello?? Who gave you this number? Are you there?” The man seem angry and a bit condescending in his tone and somehow his rudeness made you speak up.

“Yeah, I’m here” You started with more confidence “I got this number from NoHo Hank, he said you could help me to… to get rid of someone”.

“Ahh” The man was calmed now, almost happy “Well in that case any friend of Hank is friend of mine, but I warn you madame that won’t be cheap” He said and you stand up from the floor glimpsing at yourself in the mirror, shocked to see how pale you looked, and how scared you actually felt.

***

Barry entered his apartment begging for Jermaine or Nick to be there and use them as an excuse to tell Fuches to fuck off, but it was empty except for the never ending amount of trash that always was in their comon space, he stopped trying to tell them to clean like three months ago and now he only limited to hide in his room away from the beer cans and chips bags.

It didn’t matter that much really, at least not before, as long as Sally was there to talk to him or as long as he could call her, but then she got that part in a big movie, and he was happy for her, that was her dream and he would never get between her and her dream, but then she stop being around the class due to rehearsals, and then she change a beer in Residual’s to fancy and expensive dinners with her costars and then one day she simply said goodbye.

But he had come to the conclusion that he deserved that, he took away Mr. Cousineau’s happiness so it was only fair for him to lose it as well, and Sally was still his friend, as long as he could find a 5 minutes gap to talk in her busy schedule every other week.

He was still on the class, and he was getting better or at least he no longer missed his lines, and he had even recieved a callback for a commercial, but he didn’t get it in the end.

And now Fuches was coming back to screw up everything again, Barry looked at the clock, 4:02 he would be there any minute, for a brief moment his mind travel to his gun under his bed, and how just one year before he was desperate to see him and kill him from once, but then Mr Cousineau started making questions, and to suspect, accurately, that he had killed Moss, and Fuches chose to come clean, or at least enough to settle things down.

He told Gene the Chechens killed Moss and that they wanted to implicate Barry, so he called the cops on him so Barry would take the blame and end up in jail, he played his Part as a poor looser, alone and miserable well enough and Barry chose not to kill him, as long as he would stay away from them, and he had kept his promise until that morning. He would say no, obviously but he needed to say it to his face to reassure him or to himself that it was all done.

A knock on the door put him in alert, and he muttered a simple “Come in” keeping himself away from the entrance. Fuches entered the room with an almost curious expression on his face, he looked at the trash an made a disgusted frown, and then looked at Barry from head to toe, he looked paler or maybe just tired, he for sure was, that stubborn woman was by far the most picky and difficult client he ever had by far, but with enough luck Barry may solve it.

“Nice place” He said finally with a sarcastic grin

“That’s my roommate’s doing” Barry answered in a monotone “Coffee? beer?”

“If you are really being nice I’ll take the beer” Fuches said and without waiting for an invitation he found a place to sit.

“I’m not.” Barry answered and sit in front of him. “What do you want?”

“Ahh there it is” Fuches roll his eyes “I got a job for you, and I think you may like this one…”

“What the fuck man?” Barry interrupted mid sentence. “We haven’t seen each other in almost a year, I was very clear then as I’m now I don’t want to do that anymore”

“Boy listen, is way easier and you’ll get pay three times more than previous works” He said completely ignoring him.

“I don’t give a fuck about the money, I told you I don’t want to work for you” Barry put both hands over his face, this was exasperating.

“Fine, now look at me like you were about to kill me” He said taking Barry by surprise.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He said after an uncomfortable silence.

“Look kid, a week ago I received a call from a crazy actress, you may know her Y/N something” He started

“Is not Y/N Y/L/N by any chance?” Barry asked, remembering something that Natalie and Sasha said about her.

“Yes, that one, complete basket case” Fuches continued “She asked me if I could eliminate her ex boyfriend, some Hollywood big shot that I genuinely couldn’t care less about. I said yes sure, I’ll send someone to do it, then she change her mind and called me back, and said she simply wants to scare him, but she wants to meet the guy she is paying. And she hated him, and I show her my folder of other employees and well…”

“Oh come on man, that’s on you, you shouldn’t have my picture there” Barry said now understanding what had happen.

“Yeah I get that, but the thing is I said to her you no longer work for me, and she offered the triple, and I told her that if she wanted you so badly then she would have to convince you by herself, and that’s why I’m here, I need you to go see her, say no and then she would pick one of my guys and I’ll be out of your life forever” He said like if he was offering the most interesting deal ever. “Take it as an acting job” He add when Barry didn’t respond “You get to meet a pretty and famous actress, and you can scream to her everything you just said to me, also I’ll pay you”

Barry remained silent for another moment thinking about the situation, it seemed like an easy deal, and some extra money wouldn’t be that bad, and if he played his cards well enough he could even make sure Fuches to stay away form him for good.

“Fine I’ll do it” he said after a while “But is just this and it’s over, no more phone calls, no more jobs no anything, I turn down this woman and that’s it.” He said seriously.

“Consider it done son, just one more deal and I’m out of your life” Fuches said happy, and then got up the chair and started leaving “You have to meet her tomorrow in a restaurant, I’ll send you the address” Barry nodded and watched him leave, then he went to his room to search something about the woman he was about to meet.

Y/N was a gorgeous woman and a talented actress, but apparently the media didn’t like her very much since she had a reckless life style, there were many pictures of her smoking and drinking, and she had a long list of ex lovers, and the most prominent of those was some guy called Richard Maverick, he recognized that name, it was the director and producer of Sally’s movie, more of a reason to not working for that woman, since the guy didn’t seem like a bad person, and she did.

***

Sparkling bubbles were moving in your glass of water, it have been sitting there since the waiter pour it, but you were to nervous to touch it, it was a nice table, out in the terrace of the restaurant and you were sure anyone walking by the street would be able to see you, so it worked perfectly for your plan, now everything else depended on the man you hear approaching behind you.

“Snow White?” He asked and sited in the spot in front of you, he was clean shaved and wearing a black blazer over a dark green tshirt, definitely not what you expected from someone of his profession.

“Is from Notting Hill, the movie with Julia Roberts, don’t you like it? God you really are tall, how much is it like 6'3”?“ You said unable to stop yourself, but concentrating on his face, there was something sad about his blue eyes, almost melancholic.

"6'2” and no I don’t think I saw it, the oscar winning one?“ He said a bit ashamed by his poor Hollywood trivia knowledge.

"Oh absolutely not, some old romantic comedy, you should see it some time.” You said, and the whole situation felt more and more surreal “Well I’m Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you Mr. Berkman, or do you prefer Block?” You said please to se the surprise on his face.

“Berkman is fine, how do you know?” He said examining your face.

“Well is not every day that I have to hire a professional assassin, so I needed to get some references, and your employer was distracted enough so I could stole this from him, here you can have it back” You said sliding his picture across the table. “I saw a couple videos of your callbacks, you shouldn’t stoop that much when you read it would help in the auditions”

“So this is what you do?” He said and his tone was calm but there was fury in his eyes “You manipulate people into working with you, making then feel like you know everything about them and pretending to be nice and polite? Well I have news for you, first of all I don’t work for Fuches, and second, you can put out all of this glamorous crap that you have on me and the answer still be no, I don’t this anymore”

“Would you like to order?” The waiter said before any of you could keep speaking.

“Sure, shrimp risotto for me, and for my dear friend… what do you want honey?” You said smiling at him.

“The same sounds fine” he said and smile back at you changing his tone immediately. “And red wine?"He asked you with a checky wink and you nodded. "Red it is” The waiter nod and walked away.

“Not bad, you are a quick responder, I like that” you said looking as the man walked away. “But you don’t know shit about me” You spat at him once the waiter couldn’t hear “Glamorous crap? Oh let me guess you read one of the many articles about how much of a whore I am? I have a drinking and smoking problem is that it? That I have slept my way into every work I ever had, and how little I deserved my career, and how much good it was for Richard to walk away form me even when he still loves me? Well that’s all bullshit” There it was again, even when you were trying to escape he was still holding you in his hands. “Well the magazines that work for him doesn’t tell I went to drama school, they didn’t say I have a dying mother that gets every penny I make, they didn’t say that I could count the men I slept with the fingers on one hand I will be sparing 2, they don’t say he forced himself on me more times I can remember, or how he enjoys sleeping with every woman that works for him no matter the age just because he is The man”

“Go the police then, tell them that, why do you need me?” He said, but with less confidence than before and it was obvious his mental image of you was crumbling.

“The L.A. Police that gets donations from him every year? I’m a whore, to them, to Richard, to you and to everyone. I have no voice” Fortunately the waiter arrived with the food and you could stop to think, talking about this made you feel exposed, and you were questioning if it was worth the trouble at all.

“Why me? If you need him out of your life so bad I’m sure Fuches have someone right for the job” He said and started eating avoiding your gaze, you didn’t have an appetite anymore but force yourself to do the same.

“Have you seen the guys that work for Fuches? They look like hobos and meth heads, he is not some random dude, he is rich and powerful if he dies people would ask questions and eventually that would come back to me, also he would die loved and mourned, and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“And scared him off is better how? If someone goes to him and beat him it would come back at you faster and worse” He said taking a sip of his wine.

“Men always think physically right?” You said drinking as well and looking at him “I never said beat him, I told fuches I needed you specifically and he said he doesn’t work for me anymore, he is an actor now, and then I knew you were exactly what I needed. I don’t need some hitman to go beat the crap out of Richard even if he deserves it. I need someone to escort me from my apartment to work, and to public events and keep him away from me.”

“Those are called bodyguards and I’m pretty sure there are legal business that can provide their services to you” He said condescendingly.

“Like the one that is at my house right now and doesn’t even know I went out?” You said smiling “Or the one that give my alarm password to Richard so he could read his script? Legal people can be bought, and they have things to lose, that doesn’t work for me, he is a monster and a criminal, so I need someone outside the law to outsmart him” You said to him and the shadow of a smile formed in his lips before he spoke.

“So you think I’m a monster too? Look I’m sorry for you, your situation must be horrifying, but I leave that life behind, I’m no longer that guy and I don’t want to be, I’m sorry but I don’t want my past mistakes to keep haunting me, I’m tired of that. I’m sorry” He said, and you believed him but you couldn’t lost this chance.

“Mr Berkman, can I call you Barry?” You started and he nod affirmatively “Barry do you ever have nightmares about your mistakes?”

“Every night” He answered

“But when you wake up, when you go to work, when you talk to your significant other, when you are eating, those mistakes are dead, those people and those lifes you took they remained where you leave them. Your mistakes don’t call you at 3 am to remain you you are a slut, your mistakes don’t sell naked pictures of you to magazines to make you feel miserable because you are no longer sleeping with them. Your mistakes don’t force you to go down on them in order to don’t recast your part and then don’t threaten to ruin your career and leave your mother without her cancer treatment.” You said and a tear finally find it’s way down your cheek. “Fine I get it, you want to be a better person, well so am I, I need to run away from this and I’m so desperate that I called you, but it’s okay I have no way to force you into this, you don’t have to be sorry about me” you said hopeless, and he remained silent for a couple minutes looking at you occasionally and then his plate now almost empty.

“What exactly would I have to do?” He said finally “I’m not accepting, I just want to know” he add before you could react.

“Offering me your arm in social events, walked me to my apartment at nights, and take me to lovely lunches like this one every few days, basically being a human purse, just looking handsome and put together next to me, and let the magazines and the media make their assumptions”

“I’m not a prostitute” He said and you found the statement ridiculously funny.

“And I wouldn’t pay you to fuck me sunshine” you said with a grin “But I have learned that men respect other men’s "property” more than a women’s NO, and if I start seeing a handsome, blue eyed, literal war hero from the Midwest he would look like an asswhole if he keeps pushing how much he misses me in interviews"

“Fine” He said looking straight to your eyes “I’ll do it, when do you want to start?”

“Well if you consider the three girls with her phones out that just crossed behind you on the street, I would say I already owe you overtime, but tomorrow is fine, I would send you my address and other details with my publicist”

“Don’t you think is better if we have the least amount of people involved in this?” He said with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Adrian is like a sister to me, I trust her my life.” You said and he seemed conformed with that answer “And Barry, thank you”.

[remywrites5]

Written in the Stars

Sirius sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that only a man just recently out of his twenties could muster. James gave him a pointed look in response. “Prongs, don’t look at my like that!” Sirius whined, throwing his arm over his brother and best friend. “You’re 30thbirthday isn’t for ages! You don’t know what I’m going through.”

           “My birthday is in five months, Pads,” James reminded him, rolling his eyes at his overly dramatic friend.

           “Yes, five months!” Sirius said, draping himself over James as if he couldn’t bear to be standing anymore. “That’s almost half a year away. Half a year of being in your twenties still!”

           “It’s not that exciting,” James grumbled, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ head. “You know I’ve already basically become an old man anyway.”

           “I know,” Sirius said, taking a moment’s reprieve from his woes and narrowing his eyes at James’ cuddly jumper. “Any day now you’re going to have dementia and a bad back.”

           James shoved his friend away. “Don’t be a prick, I was trying to help you!”

           “Jamie,” Sirius whined again. “I wasn’t being a prick. I’m just terribly jealous of you. You’ve got a wife and a great kid. A house on a cute little street. If you weren’t my best friend I would probably hate you for your stupid perfect life. But because I am so very kind I choose to be happy for you.”

           James snorted and pushed his glasses up his nose haughtily. “Gosh that’s big of you, Pads.”

           “Isn’t it?” Sirius said with a grin. He linked his arm through Jamie’s. “I mean what have I got to show for my thirty years?”

           “Just because you’re not married with a kid doesn’t mean you don’t have anything.” James reminded him. They were on their way to their local pub for a birthday drink or five. Lily had stayed home with Harry so that James could go out and wallow with Sirius. He’d known Sirius was going to take turning 30 pretty hard because he’d been making a lot of ‘soon my life will be over’ comments. As his brother and closest friend, it was his job to make sure Sirius didn’t do anything too stupid on his birthday. “You’ve got your on garage where you do a job you love and get to be the boss. You’ve got that unbearably posh flat that your Uncle left you. You’re an attractive bloke that people want to shag.”    

           “Yeah but nobody loves me for me!”

           “I do,” James said, sliding his hand down and entwining their fingers. “And Harry does, Peter does and Lily too.”

           “Wormtail,” Sirius said, growling slightly as he said it. “Couldn’t even be bothered to come out tonight to celebrate with us.”

           ‘His company sent him to Belgium for the month, Pads.”

           Sirius continued on as if James hadn’t spoken. “And Lily tolerates me because she loves you. It’s not the same thing.”

           James couldn’t help beaming at that. “Isn’t that just fantastic?”

           “Yes, it’s fantastic, Prongs,” Sirius said with a sigh. “Your life is fantastic. That was my whole ruddy point!”

           “Alright, fine, you win,” James said, opening the door to the pub and letting Sirius go in first. “My life is fantastic.”

           Sirius at least took a bit of glee from being right and walked into the pub. It wasn’t terribly busy considering it was a Sunday night and folks had work in the morning. Just the usual degenerates and alcoholics sat at the bar drowning their sorrows. At least Sirius felt in good company.

           “I’ll get the drinks,” Sirius said, pushing James towards a booth. “Get our usual.”

           “No way are you paying tonight.”

           “James, I’m a strong, independent woman. Now go get our booth.”

           “Yes, there’s such a crowd here tonight I better hurry,” James said sarcastically but gave in. He headed towards their usual booth in the corner, right next to the pool table so they could claim it easily when wanted.

           Sirius leaned against the bar and waited to be served. With a quiet night it didn’t take long before the bartender got around to him. “What can I get you?” he asked, smiling kindly as Sirius.

           “You’re new,” Sirius responded, cocking his head to the side and evaluating this bartender he’d never seen. “Where’s Tom?”

           The bartender chuckled softly. “You must only come in on the weekends,” he said, grabbing two glasses from under the bar in preparation of Sirius’ order. “I work Sunday through Thursday and then Tom takes over for the weekends. So not new, just new to you.”

           Sirius eyes flickered up to the bartender’s, meeting his gaze after he’d been looking elsewhere. The bartender was wearing brown corduroys and a black button down shirt. Sirius wanted to pull a Queer Eye on this poor soul and Tan France this bitch. Although honestly, he was much more Jonathan Van Ness than Tan.

           “I’m Sirius Black,” he said, holding out his hand. “And it’s my birthday.”

           “Happy birthday, Sirius Black,” the bartender said, shaking his hand. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

           “I’m 30 today,” Sirius informed him, sharing his woes. The bartender was cute and Sirius was in the mood to flirt. “Do I look it? Keep in mind that if you say yes I will have to stab myself with a pool cue.”

           Remus laughed. “Thirty isn’t so bad. I turn thirty in a few months. My birthday is in March.”

           “March what?”

           “The tenth.”

           “So you’re a Pisces.”

           “I guess,” Remus said with a shrug. “If you go in for that kind of thing.”

           “Pisces are artistic, empathetic, romantic,” Sirius eyes glinted with mischievous. “And just happens to be compatible with my sign, a Scorpio.”

           Remus laughed loudly and startled a few of the patrons. He covered his mouth with his hand to try and stifle it. Sirius grinned proudly in response. “Oh, you are shameless,” Remus said once he’d calmed down a bit. “I think only someone as gorgeous as you could get away with chatting me up over Astrology.”

           Sirius preened. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

           Remus rolled his eyes. “You know you are,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially towards Sirius. “See, no one without a huge helping of self-confidence wears leather trousers that tight.”

           Sirius laughed and leaned in towards Remus as well. “If you’d like you can take them off of me later.”

           Remus blushed prettily. “Like I said – shameless.”

           “That’s not a no…” Sirius sing-songed, chewing lightly on his bottom lip.

           Remus smirked. “Don’t get too drunk tonight,” he said, standing up straight. “There are rules about that kind of thing.”

           Sirius felt himself swoon. “Feel free to cut me off after three. I’ll be happily buzzed but still able to consent.”

           “Why don’t you tell me what you want and we’ll start with one?” Remus asked as he glanced down pointedly towards the empty glasses on the bar. “On the house by the way.”

           “Awfully kind of you.”

           “You’ll pay me back for it later,” Remus said suggestively. Sirius decided right then and there that Remus Lupin was his new favorite person. It took every bit of Sirius’ willpower not to reach across the bar and run his fingers through Remus’ thick curls.

           “One pint of lager and a gin and tonic,” Sirius said thickly around the lump in his throat.

Remus made the drinks quickly and efficiently. Sirius watched him work and very much enjoyed the view. He was almost upset when Remus finished and pushed the drinks across the bar towards him. “Enjoy your evening, Sirius.”

           “Oh I will now,” Sirius told him with a cheeky wink. He headed back to Jamie with the drinks in hand and slid across from him in the booth.

           “Took you bloody long enough,” James said, taking a long pull from his drink. “Had a good chat up with the bartender then?”

           Sirius bit his bottom lip and nodded. “He’s taking me home with him tonight.”

           “Christ you work fast,” James said, shaking his head in amusement.

           “Just because it took you years to bag Evans doesn’t mean we’re all so hopeless, Jamie.”

           James shrugged. “Got her in the end though, didn’t I?”

           “Still one of life’s greatest mysteries, mate.”

           “Oi, don’t think that just because it’s your birthday I won’t smack you.”

           “Violence is not the answer, Jamie.”

           “It is sometimes,” James grumbled, downing more of his drink.

           “Besides, no messing up the merchandise. I need to look good for Remus tonight.”

           “Remus?” James echoed in confusion.

           “The bartender,” Sirius said, glancing over at the bar. Remus was talking with Alastor, one of the bars regulars. When he caught Sirius staring he gave him a little wave and then turned his attention back. Sirius felt almost giddy. “I just want to do horrible, beautiful, depraved and sexy things to him.”

           “I don’t want to hear about it,” James said, finishing off his beer. “Let’s play pool.”

           Sirius lost at pool but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Ever since they were old enough to drink they’d been keeping score of their games. Sirius was up on James by a good twenty game lead. He could afford to lose a couple. Besides, Remus was so distracting that he couldn’t have focused on the game even if he’d wanted to.

           “Oi, mate, I’d better get going,” James said, checking the time on his phone and seeing how late it was. “Otherwise I’ll be dead in the morning.”

           Sirius nodded and pulled James into a hug. “Thanks for my birthday, brother.”

           James smiled and hugged Sirius back tightly. “You’re welcome, old man.”

           “Hey!”

           James laughed and pulled away. “Happy birthday. Now go enjoy your present,” he said, looking over at the bar. “Love you.”

           “Love you too, Jamie.”

           Once James was gone, Sirius slid into one of the stools at the bar to be closer to Remus. The bar was mostly empty as it was getting close to last call. Only a few stragglers remained and Sirius wished they would bugger off so he could finally be alone with Remus.

           “Hi there,” Remus said, walking over with a small smile. “Sorry about your defeat.”

           Sirius waved him off. “No big deal. I let Jamie win.”

           “Is that so?” Remus asked, resting his elbows on the bar and putting his chin in his hand. “Because I rather thought it was because you were missing shots being too busy staring at my arse.”

           Sirius laughed. “Maybe it was that a little bit too. Not that I can see it that well in those monstrosities.”

           “What’s wrong with my trousers?”

           “Oh darling, where do I even begin?”

           “I think a kiss would probably make the most sense,” Remus said with a grin. “Then maybe a proper date. Fall madly in love. Move in together. Adopt some babies. Get a puppy. I mean, it’s meant to be, right? Written in the stars and all that.”

           Sirius chuckled. “If you weren’t so very, very cute I might take offense to you making fun of me.”

           “Only a little,” Remus replied, laughing softly in return. He reached into the pocket of his ghastly trousers and pulled out his phone. “I googled Scorpio while you were playing pool. It says here that you’re very vindictive, paranoid, possessive, destructive and clingy.”

           “Let me see that” Sirius said, grabbing Remus’ phone from his hand. He took a moment and then glared at Remus. “You were only reading all the bad things about my sign, you wanker!”

           Remus laughed outright and held his hand out for his phone. Sirius handed it back to him reluctantly. “Yeah, well I also noticed the part that says Scorpios are the most passionate of all the zodiac signs. Any truth to that or is it bollocks like the rest?

           Sirius leaned across the bar and kisses Remus with everything he had, finally – finally – getting his hands into Remus’ hair. Remus’ lips were soft and pliable under Sirius, following him wherever he wanted to go, echoing his movements at every turn. As far as first kisses went it was pretty bloody spectacular. “What do you think?” Sirius teased, breaking the kiss but staying close to Remus.

           “Not bollocks, then,” Remus said breathlessly. Sirius took it as a point of pride.

           “I’ll make a believer out of you yet, Remus Lupin,” Sirius told him with a grin.

           Remus huffed out a laugh. “You can try,” he said stubbornly as if challenging Sirius. Sirius felt more than up to the task. “Now, I believe I owe you twenty-nine more kisses for your birthday.”

           “It’s technically not my birthday anymore,” Sirius informed him. “It’s after midnight.”

           “Sirius, shut up and let me kiss you.”

           Sirius shut up and let Remus do just that.

[artificialqueens]

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 3 (Branjie)- Blackhighheels

(Read at AO3)

Three

Jose knows it might not be the best idea to come to this run down bar, but he is bored and he needs a drink. Since he left Los Angeles he hasn’t been to any clubs or bars and this shack is the only thing nearby in the middle of motherfucking nowhere.

The offer is somewhat limited and so he orders a whiskey, since that seems to be the only thing they have beside shots and beer. He remains sitting at the bar and the woman behind it, Lindsey, is a hoot and he likes talking to her. From what she’s telling him she used to be the queen bee around here, about forty years ago, until she got pregnant too young and out of wedlock and found herself working in this bar to keep a roof over her head and care for her son.

He’s so engrossed in Lindsey’s stories that it takes him a while to realise that a couple of guys by the pool table are talking about him. The words ”Faggot”, ”Gay” and ”cocksucker” are a dead give away and he doesn’t think they’d say that about anyone but him around here.

”Hey, assholes! Got a problem with my gay ass?” He yells at them. It might be the alcohol or simply his frustration about the town and what it does to people, but he isn’t willing to just take it and keep him mouth shut. And he’s not afraid of them. He’s had his share of fights in his life, both because of the area he grew up in and also because of him being so obviously gay.

The four men, or boys, come closer and he can already smell the cloud of beer that surrounds them.

”Did you faggot just call us assholes?”

”If you’re the assholes who just talked smack about me, then yeah, I did.” He turns around in his bar stool and is glad that it gives him a bit of a height advantage.

”You better watch your mouth you filthy cocksucker.”

”Mmmh…. Sucking dick’s only filthy when it’s done right. You ever tried it?”

Jose expects a punch or kick, maybe something thrown his way. He doesn’t expect one of the guys spitting right into his face.

”Guys like you are dirt and god will take care of you,” the smallest one says. He seems to be believer amongst them.

Jose doesn’t want to talk anymore though. They just spit at him. He’s done talking. Before the god-fearing idiot has even finished speaking, Jose smacks the fucker who spit at him right across the face with the back of his hand.

”Imma end you, you motherfuckers. No one spits at me, bitch! You got hands, show me! Show me!” he yells, as blood drips from the drunken teenager’s nose.

”Hey!” Lindsey grabs him from behind. ”No fights in my bar. House rule. If you really wanna beat each other up, take it outside. But I’d advise all of y’all to just leave it. You four shouldn’t even be in here or drinking, and you,” she turns to Jose ”better not make more enemies than necessary while ya here. This is a small town.” Jose looks at the four teenagers in front of him, then throws a couple of dollars on the bar and leaves. So much for grabbing a drink and enjoying a night out.

***

Brock walks out of the stable when he hears a voice he would recognise everywhere. He also knows the car parked in their driveway.

”Fuck,” he curses quietly and hurries towards the house, wiping his hands on an old rag as panic settles in his stomach. This can’t be happening! Also, he is painfully aware that his hair is a mess, he is sweaty, dirty and his clothes are stained. Usually when he sees Jose, he at least gets a chance to shower beforehand.

For the last two weeks Jose has driven Rachel and him home after each dance practise. Sometimes they stop for ice cream or food on the way back. Brock is aware that Jose only makes little bets with Rachel, bets he always loses, and then has to invite them to whatever it is he promised her. Brock wouldn’t be able to buy ice-cream and take-out three or four times a week for three people.

The time he spends with Jose and Rachel has become the highlight of his life. He doesn’t mind walking half an hour to a dance studio and then watch for nearly two hours in the overheated studio as his niece prances around the room with other girls. The short drive back with Jose makes it all worth while.

He is the funniest and kindest guy Brock’s ever met. It feels a bit like having a friend, a real friend for once, and Jose is probably the only person he can really be himself with. He can giggle when he feels like it, talk with his hands and even admit that he likes colourful sprinkles on top of his ice-cream.

However, none of it explains why Jose is here now, parked in front of his parents’ house. It’s already too late, Brock realises when he makes his way around the front-porch and find both his mother and father standing on the porch talking to Jose.

”Aw, that’s too bad you can’t tell me. Thought I’d save them the long walk, now that I’m in town anyway.”

”Sorry, we can’t help ya,” his father says in a brusk tone.

”Ok, never mind. Thanks anyway,” Jose turns around to leave. That’s when he spots Brock. Immediately Jose’s face lights up. He is looking really good today, wearing a white wife-beater, a short black and red flannel shirt and tiny black  shorts. ”Hey Brock!”

”Hello,” Brock replies as neutral as possible and it takes a lot not to return the smile. He is very aware that his parents are watching their interaction with stony expressions. ”What are you doing here?”

”Thought I’d ask you and Rachel if I should drive you to dance practice today. I have to take care of some shit here in town and could take you back with me. Don’t think ya got your car fixed yet, huh?” Jose still smiles and casually leans against his Porsche. He looks like someone straight out of an ad or a tv show. Already Brock’s stomach tightens because he knows what he has to do.

”I’m sorry Sir, but that’s not necessary. Rachel and I can manage on our own. Thank you for the kind offer though,” he declines and watches the smile melt off Jose’s face when the icy tone of Brock’s voice registers with him.

”Brock! You know him?” His mother asks. She sounds surprised. What did she think? That some stranger would just show up and offer driving him and Rachel?

”This is Jose. He is Rachel’s dance teacher for the next couple of weeks. Jason hurt himself.” He informs both of his parents.

”You done with the hay?” His father stops any further explanation.

”No, not yet. I just heard voices and thought I’d check on ya.”

”I don’t need ya checking, that’s what we got guns for. I need ya working!” His father barks.

”I better get going,” Jose says quietly and his eyes appear to be so large and defeated that Brock nearly drowns in them.

”Thank you again for the offer but we can manage,” he says and softens his tone. He doesn’t want to decline. If he had a choice, he’d gladly drive around in Jose’s car all day and talk to him about everything and nothing. But it’s not an option he has.

He can’t move, he can’t do anything when he watches Jose get into the car and then drive off, leaving dust and a hint of cologne in the air.

”Don’t ya have work to do?!” his father asks him from the porch and snaps him out of his daze. Quickly he hurries back to the stable to work, to hide and to hopefully forget about the scene he was just a part of. He swallows a couple of times to keep the tears inside that his stupid overly emotional heart wants him to cry for how he just treated Jose.

***

”Care to tell us what that guy wanted today?” Brock’s father asks as soon as he sits down at the table for lunch.

”I told you, he’s Rachel’s dance teacher and I know nothing more than you do. He wanted to drive us to her dance class.”

”How’d he know your car’s broken?”

”We were late a couple of times,” Brock sighs and takes a piece of bread, rips a piece off and stuffs it in his mouth so the words he really wants to speak won’t burst out.

”I don’t like ya hanging with that folk! It’s bad enough that Ada allows Rachel to take dance lessons at that place. You being around these faggots a couple o’times a week… ya know what the people in town gonna say if they see this gay guy here? Ya know what the minister’s gonna say? You stay away from them, ya hear me!” His father is basically yelling at this point.

”I take Rachel to dance class because no one else has the time to do so, not because I wanna hang out there. I don’t know this guy any better than I know Jason, so what’s the big deal? He is a good teacher and Rachel likes him.”

”Stop eating before we said grace!” His father slaps the bread out of his hand, which drops to the floor. ”And Rachel shouldn’t be anywhere around these faggots, this music or these whore dance moves! It’s not right! Their lifestyle and everything they do’s offensive to the lord and every god fearing Christian. They don’t belong here and I want none of my family have anything to do with them. If you wanna hang out with these sinners you get your ass out of my house and better never come back.” Now his father is really yelling.

”How else is Rachel supposed to get there? By the time the lessons are done it’s dark out. It’s too far for her to go on her own. It’s not safe!”

”If I had a say in it she wouldn’t go there at all! But ya sister is letting her kids do whatever! If she lets them run with the wrong crowd, they should know what’s waiting for them!”

It’s nothing Brock hasn’t heard before. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen or felt before. He knows if he speaks another word now the fight will most likely become physical. Brock has never raised a hand against his father, but for a while now he’s taken to defending himself and his mother when the beer gets to his father’s head again.

He hates how he judges Jose without even knowing him. He even hates him for judging Jason. For a split second he wants to scream at him that he’s a sinner himself, gay like them and that even all the beatings he got as a child and teenager didn’t take it out of him.

Then he glances at his mother and her wide, scared eyes let him bite his tongue and lower his head. ”I’ll tell Ada I can’t take Rachel anymore.” He leans over and picks the bread up off the floor and uses the second to wipe his face clean of any emotion. Fury is still burning in his gut, nearly making him sick as he swallows it down and nearly chokes on it.

This is not the time though, not the time to risk it all for nothing. Jose will be gone again in about three weeks and their tentative friendship will become only a memory. What does it matter if he stops it all now, goes back to life how it was before Jose got here and starts living his harsh reality again three weeks earlier? His father probably just saved him a lot of pain and heartache. Brock knows that Jose and his friendships means too much already and he’s gotten too used to it.

”Good. Brock, can you say grace?” His mother ends the discussion with a grateful look and Brock knows he’s made the right decision.

***

”Hey, uncle Brock,” Rachel greets him after the mass on Sunday, when they are all still standing in front of the church.

”Hey honey,” he smiles.

”Can you take a look at my bike? The breaks’ not working and mommy can’t fix it,” she asks him and of course Brock follows her to her bike on the other side of the lawn. He doesn’t care that his good pants get dirty as he kneels down beside the small bike. It’s more important that his niece has a functioning bike, now that she has to ride it to dance practise and back. Brock doesn’t like it. He worries about her constantly, but there is nothing he can do.

”It’s just a bit loose, honey, that’s easily fixed,” he assures her.

”Thank you!”

”Do your lights work? I don’t like you riding your bike in the dark after practise, so we have to make sure at least these are working.”

”Can I tell you a secret?” Rachel whispers after checking that they are alone.

”Always.”

”I’m not driving back on my bike. Vanjie takes me until we reach our house and then waits with the lights turned off until he knows I’m safely inside.”

Brock feels a warmth spreading through him that nearly knocks him on his ass. He grasps the bike to keep his balance. He should have known Jose would make sure Rachel is safe. It’s so much like him that Brock feels like weeping. It’s only been three days, but he already misses their talks so much and hearing about how he cares for his niece only makes him miss Jose more. If only he could just talk to him sometimes.

”That’s very nice of Vanjie. He’s a very good guy,” Brock tells her just as quietly as she told him her secret.

”Then why do you hate him?”

”What? What makes you think I hate him?” he asks surprised and slowly gets up.

”Vanjie asked why you not taking me anymore and if you’re sick or something. I told him ‘bout the stuff grandpa said and that you can’t take me ‘cause they’re offensive and sinners and you don’t wanna be around him and can’t be his friend.”

Brock nearly crumbles to the ground for real this time. ”Rachel, how do you know about that talk?”

”I wanted to see you but then I heard the yelling through the open window and ran off. I don’t like grandpa when he’s mean like that.”

He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his curls. There are so many things wrong with what Rachel just said and what she overheard. But there are also things he can maybe fix.

”Honey, I don’t agree with grandpa. Vanjie is a very good and nice guy and don’t let anyone tell you anything else about him or Jason, ok? ” Rachel nods her head. ”The only reason why I’m not taking you anymore is because grandpa gets very upset about these things and he’s scared that people will say mean things about me in town.”

”Like the things they say about Jason?”

”Yeah, like that. And he doesn’t want that for me or any of us. And I don’t want to make grandpa angry.”

”Uncle Brock? I like Jason and Vanjie.”

”That’s good. Make sure you tell them. They sure need to hear it.” He strokes his hand over Rachel’s strawberry blond hair.

”Will you tell them, too? Vanjie was really sad that you not there anymore. He said, he thought you was his friend.”

”I’ll tell him,” Brock agrees.

”Promise?” Rachel goes in for the kill.

”Promise,” he says and knows he now really doesn’t have choice but to talk to Jose. Rachel will know.

***

He waits until his parents are in bed and then sneaks outside to the orchard behind their house. It’s far enough so he won’t be overheard, dark enough so he won’t be seen and close enough to the cellphone tower so he’ll have reception.

Jose has given him his phone number the first week, but he has never used it and he hasn’t given him his own. It simply hadn’t been necessary. Jose said to use the number if he needed a ride or if Rachel couldn’t come to practise. Brock had no such excuse for giving him his number.

He takes a couple of deep breaths and then finally brings his thumb down on the dial button.

”Hello?” Jose picks up after only a couple of rings.

”Hey, uhm, it’s me, Brock,” he stutters and feels stupid already.

”What’d ya want, Sir?” Jose’s tone is snide and Brock knows he deserves it.

”Rachel told me she talked to you and I think I need to clear some things up.”

”You made it more than crystal yourself what you really think about me. Ya don’t need to drag Rachel into this.”

”I’m not! I just think, like… it’s not what it seems.”

”So you not avoiding me like the plague ‘cause your father’s a bigot asshole who thinks just talking to me will sully your reputation?” Jose is yelling at him through the phone, then he suddenly stops. When he continues his voice carries the hurt he must be feeling. ”God, I hate this motherfucking town and all of y’all religious lying assholes.”

”I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. You’re so nice to Rachel and to me and helped us out so much and just…I’m sorry.”

”If you’re really sorry you’d have come here and told me this shit in person like a man. But I guess you just as much of a weaselly liar as the rest of these fucked up wanna be cowboys in this town. Grow up, start thinking for ya’self and learn how to make an apology real.”  Jose hangs up on him and Brock stares disbelievingly at his phone.

At first he is shocked and sad. He’s just lost the only friend who really knew him. Not only that, but he also thinks badly about him now. How can he think that Brock agrees with his father? He must know that he doesn’t have a choice, right? He thought Jose knows… That’s when Brock gets angry himself. He is so sick of all of these people and their opinions about him and his life and what he is supposed to do and to think. He’s used to it from his family and the town and the parish. But Jose? How dare he!

Before he really knows what he is doing, he has run inside, grabbed his mother’s car keys and is on the way to the dance studio. Jose wants him to talk to him in person? He can have it!

***

Brock bangs on the front-door and his hand is still in the air when the door is ripped open.

”What the fuck are you doing here, bitch?”

”You told me to talk to you in person, didn’t you?” Brock raises his voice as well.

”Aaaah and of course the good little christian boy always does what he is told,” Jose sneers. For a second Brock wants to punch him. Instead he pushes past him into the apartment. Jason or whoever else is around, really doesn’t need to hear this conversation.

Jose lets the door falls shut and crosses his arms over his chest. ” Say what you gotta say, then leave.”

”Why are you acting like this?”

”Acting? Acting bitch! Imma show you who’s acting! You lucky I’m not kicking your ass right now for pretending to be my friend, acting all nice and cute while we eating ice cream and then you suddenly stabbing me in the back, pretending you don’t fucking know me and stop talking to me without any explanation. I don’t need any more backstabbing hoes in my life.”

”Do you have any idea what my father would have done, if he knew we were hanging out after dance practice? If he knew we were so much as talking on the regular? I don’t know who he would have shot first, you or me!”

“I’m not scared of your asshole father. I don’t give a shit about him! But I give a shit about loyalty. And you not who I thought you were! You not fucking loyal! If you’d been at that fucking bar last week, you’d have spat on me too and tried to beat me up, just ‘cause you scared of your father. You pathetic!” Jose is full on screaming at him now.

”So you got a taste of what it’s like to live here for one night? Do you know what it’s like to live here every fucking day of your fucking life? When they beat me up as a kid ‘cause I was too girly, my dad beat me up again when I got home. They threw rocks at me, spat at me and slapped me all the way through school. I couldn’t tell my parents, the teachers didn’t care and I didn’t even understand what the fuck was wrong with me!” Brock starts pacing in the small living room.

”You’re the only person who knows. The only person who knows that I’m…” he can barely get the word over his lips. ”…that I’m gay.” There, he’s said it out loud for the first time in his life. Well, yelled it at Jose. ”And you know what happens when that gets out? When only a rumour will spread? What you experienced at the bar will be my life every fucking day and worse. My parents will kick me out, I’ll lose all of my family and I’ll have nothing, NOTHING left. Maybe that’s what I deserve for being that way, maybe that’s really god’s way of punishment. But I’d rather live a lie every day for the rest of my fucking life than to lose the little I have left.” Tears are dripping from Brock’s chin by the end of his confession. He’s laid it all out now to Jose, a guy he barely knows and just because he’s the first one who has shown him any kindness. Fuck! What if… what if he tells people? What if he is so angry he will take revenge and..

”Hey, it’s ok. I understand,” Jose is suddenly standing in front of him and places his hands on his upper arms. That’s when Brock realises he’s shaking. ”It’s ok.” Jose tries to wipe his tears away with the back of his hands, but they fall faster than he can wipe them off. ”Come here, boo, sit down. You still shaking like a fucking tree,” he says. Brock has to laugh about the mishap.

”Leaf,” he corrects through his tears and hiccups.

”Smart ass. Imma get you some water,” Jose smiles and disappears for a moment, before he comes back with a bottle of water and some tissues. Brock takes the water and drinks it down, before he accepts the tissues and dries his face and his eyes.

He feels stupid now for getting so upset, for crying, for yelling all of his secrets at Jose and for coming here in the first place. ”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…” he starts but Jose stops him.

”You know what, boo? You look like you need a hug. That ok?” Jose asks him with a tender and worried look.

”I’m not good at hugging,” Brock shrugs self-deprecatingly and looks down.

”You lucky, ‘cause I’m the best at giving hugs.” A moment later Jose slowly pulls him in his arms and hugs him tightly. It’s a strange feeling for Brock and he can’t remember when he has ever hugged anyone other than his sister or his nieces and nephews. Then however, he slowly relaxes against Jose’s warm body and lets the last couple of tears fall.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks. It’s nice and soothing, comfortable and exciting. He feels safe and cared for. Jose starts running his hands up and down his back and if Brock could, he would start purring like his favorite kitten. He closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling.

After a while, he turns his head, his nose bumps against Jose’s neck and the scent of cologne gets stronger. Jose’s hand slides up his neck and into his hair. When Brock looks up and their eyes meet, it only takes a split second and then Jose brushes his lips against his. It’s not even a peck, more like a butterfly like touch, but Brock wants more. He stops thinking as he leans up and captures Jose’s mouth in a soft kiss.

When he pulls back his brain suddenly starts working again and he jumps back. ”Oh my god!” he covers his tingling lips with his hand and stares at Jose.

”Please tell me that’s not been your first kiss,” Jose begs, equally wide eyed.

”No! But.. Like… we can’t do this. I can’t..not… here… I’m…”

”It’s ok, Brock. It don’t gotta mean nothing. You can go back to ignoring me now. I get it, I promise. No hard feelings.” The hurt in Jose’s voice tells Brock something else though.

”I don’t wanna ignore you.” He tells him honestly. ”But I can’t… do this here. It’s too risky.”

”Alright. Friends then?” Jose smiles.

”Friends,” Brock nods. ”Just… no one can know.”

”‘Cause I’m too fucking gay for this town, I know, Miss Thing. Then you better get your secretly gay ass outta here, before anyone sees you.” The words are harsh, but the smirk on Jose’s face and the hug he gives him, let Brock know he really means it.

”We could get ice cream again some time?” Brock suggests when he is already halfway out the door.

”Text me tomorrow if you still feeling that typa way and we can do that.” They smile at each other for a moment and if Brock wasn’t such a coward he’d kiss him again. Instead he quickly leaves and vows to himself that he will text Jose in the morning and make sure he won’t lose the only friend who now really knows all of his dirty secrets and still likes him. Despite it all. Maybe because of it.

TBC

[a-simple-imagine]

Always pt.2

Requested by a few nice readers: You meet up with Nat with the information she wanted but things between you become a little... tense.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Words: 2.5k+

A/N - I don’t know how I feel about this. I liked it but then it came to posting it and now i’m not so sure. 

WARNING - Mentions of Guns, knives, stabbing, strangulation, blood, swearing, alcohol and like one suggestive reference

PREV //

It hadn't taken you long to find the guy Natasha had been referring to or more so information about him. He was like a legend. Everyone knew of him but the story was embellished. You weren't sure what or who to believe. Luckily, you only wasted one bullet during your interrogation.

So many places she could have been, you find the redhead in some obscure little café. Walking straight past the hostess who insisted on trying to assign you a seat in the mostly empty establishment. You slide into the booth across from where Natasha seemed to be enjoying a panini with a side of curly fries. Reaching over you grab the edge of her plate and slide it into the middle of the table. Picking up a fry and dramatically taking a bite.

"Hey,"

"Funny. I don't remember asking you if you wanted some?" Natasha teased, head tilting as her emerald gaze settled on you. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, holding her gaze as you slowly reach for one half of her panini. You hadn't stuck around for breakfast and you were starving so it was the least she could do. But knowing Nat the way you do, you expected it wouldn't be so easy. As you grab the warm sandwich, you spy her hand rising. Weapon of choice; a fork. A small smirk takes over your lips. Your hand snaps back as the prongs of her fork slam into the table.

"Aww, someone's getting slow," you stick out your bottom lip, a sympathetic expression adorning your face before firing a wink in her direction. Sinking your teeth into the warm bread, cheese stringing as you pull it away from your lips. Natasha leans back in her seat.

"Do you have a reason for being here or are you just trying to steal my lunch?"

You shake your head, picking up the drinks menu and glancing at the options. "I told you I'd find you later."

"So you have information for me?" The redhead asks.

"Maybe," you simply shrug. She'd have to work a little for it. "Maybe not. Let's enjoy lunch first, shall we?"

"Enjoy my lunch." Natasha corrected, sitting up to grab a fry off the plate. "How about you get your own?"

"No thanks, I'm okay sharing yours." You insist, waving your hand dismissively as you continue to enjoy what you had already stolen. You drop the menu to the table. "I will have a Bloody Mary though if you're offering."

"It's like two in the afternoon and I don't think I was offering."

Your brows furrow as if it's insane she'd bring up the time of day. "So? It's called day drinking Natasha, look it up."

She rolled her eyes but did, in fact, get up and head for the bar. You wait for her return, shoving the last piece of the panini into your mouth

"Here," She popped the drink down on the table next to you before slipping back into the booth.

"Urgh," you groan extra loudly. "Thanks, babe, you're far too good to me." You take a satisfying sip.

"So," Natasha leaned forward onto her elbows. "What information have you got for me?"

"I will tell you," You lean forward too. Grabbing a fry and slowly placing it into your mouth. "If you promise not to leave as soon as I do."

"Why do you care if I stick around?" Natasha wondered. There were many ways you could answer that question but none that would essentially sum up why exactly you care. And so, instead, you just take another fry into your mouth before slumping down in your seat.

"I couldn't find out much about your guy. It all seemed like bullshit. I did shoot someone though- that was fun." You tell her, slipping out the booth to grab a paper straw. Dropping it into the glass and taking a sip.

"And?"

"And what?" You ask, confused.

"The fuck? You can't just say you shot someone and then stop talking?"

"Oh! We're still talking about that?" Natasha's expression remained relatively blank but you knew her too well. She was getting fed up and you were living for it.

"It's no big deal, he was useless. I only shot him in the thigh, he'll be fine." You explain with a soft, almost innocent smile.

"So what exactly did you find out? What was his name?"

"I don't know." You pop another fry into your mouth with a satisfied smile before putting her out of her misery. "He doesn't tell people his actual name. The most definitive thing I could get was the shark which is stupid. He sells to suppliers who then sell it to folks like me and you."

"So we get a rat to lead us to the cat."

"We?" You question. "When was I part of this mission? I have better things to do, thanks."

"Like what? Get wasted by yourself." Natasha questioned.

"Yeah. My handler won't give me any more jobs at the moment because you fucked up the last one so what else have I got to do?"

"Tell you what," Natasha starts. "Set up a meeting and I'll buy you all the alcohol you want."

"And dinner?" You add, sitting up in your seat.

"I just got you lunch," Natasha countered signaling to the near-empty plate sat between you.

"No you didn't, I just ate your lunch- well half of it and that's completely different." You fire back defensively. "You can't just show up here whenever you want and expect me to do shit for you. So dinner, all the drinks I want and dessert then I'll consider helping you."

"Dessert?"

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. "I added another condition."

"Fine but-"

"But nothing." You interrupted sharply. "This isn't a negotiation."

"But-"

"No!"

"Y/N-"

"No." You huff. "It's either yes or no."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Great!" You down the rest of your drink before slamming the glass against the table and siding out the booth. "I'll go set up a meeting, you go put on something pretty."

"We're doing this tonight?" She questions, watching you carefully.

"Dinner? Yes. Meet up? I don't know." You casually shrug and head for the exit.

"Don't shoot anyone this time." She calls from across the restaurant. You hold up your middle finger as you walk knowing she's probably looking but not giving her satisfaction of checking.

A few hours pass by before you see her again. It had taken some work but after talking around, you finally found someone who was willing to admit they sold enhanced weapons. They were actually a little braggy about it which was distasteful but a lot of criminals are. They're annoyingly edgy or at least try to be. You return to your apartment to shower and change into something a little less 'I stalk and kill people' but nothing too fancy. You then met Natasha downtown. The redhead walks a few steps ahead of you as you try to decide where to eat. "Stop staring at my ass,"

Your eyes snap up, a soft chuckle passing your lips. "I'm not,"

"Yeah you are," Natasha nodded, turning her head to look at you. A smirk on her lips. You speed up a little and take her hand in yours; pulling her abruptly into a nearby restaurant on the strip. You're lead to a table for two where you order some drinks and search over the menu.

"When do you go back?" You eventually ask. Wondering if her little mission had a deadline.

"When the job is done."

"So the longer I drag this out..."

"The longer I have to stay." She finishes and you smile a little. Only to have it diminish a second later. "I'll probably leave sooner though if you keep messing me around."

"I'm not doing anything of the sorts." You insist defensively. "I set the meet up for tomorrow night. I hope that's okay?"

Natasha just diverts her gaze to the waitress who finally returned with your drinks. The young woman was a pretty blonde with an assortment of freckles peppered over her skin. Your jaw tenses as she stands waiting for you to order. Natasha says hers first and then you. You watch the other woman who seems to be more interested in the waitress whose walking away than you right now. You take a large gulp of the Malibu sunset you ordered.

"I don't remember you being this much of an alcoholic."  Natasha ponders. The glass lingering at your lips lowers to the table.

"Yeah... well... I don't remember you being an avenger for the US Government. People change."

"Why are you so against my job? We're doing something good."

With a humorless huff of a laugh, you can't help but roll your eyes. "You should know as well as anyone that the world isn't that black and white. You're no better off than you were before."

"I've saved the world multiple times. What have you done?" It was out of character for Nat to get so defensive.

"What I get paid to do. Just like everyone else except I don't go around acting all high and mighty."

"Because you have nothing to be proud of," Natasha growls. "I've done a lot of bad shit in the past but I'm trying to be better. I didn't want to be a monster anymore."

"Oh, so I'm a monster? Thanks." Voice dripping with sarcasm you pick up your drink just to stop yourself from talking. Natasha knows how hard it is to get out of this business. It wasn't as easy as just handing in your notice. And honestly? It was easy money. It wasn't like you we're going around killing anyone who didn't deserve it.

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it." You reply as calmly as you can. Not wanting to cause a scene right now. "I do what I have to to get through the fucking day, Natasha."

Another silence follows only this time it's more awkward. You're visibly showing off your annoyance while every time you glance at her she's just staring down. If anything she looks a little sad but perhaps that was just you wanting her to feel bad about her words.

"Shield would have you," She says quietly after a moment.

"I'm fine where I am."

The dinner proceeded quietly- too much so. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything of value. All you could think about was her new view of you and your profession. It takes a special kind of person to be able to stomach your job. It was rough and dangerous more so for others. But you had never had someone consider what you do monstrous. Admittedly you didn't have a lot of friends. You spent a lot of time traveling and forced to lay low in hotel rooms. Natasha had been someone who had saved you a long time ago which resulted in a friendship that very quickly ended up sexual. You provided each other with relief from the otherwise insane thing that was your lives. But apparently, since running off to become a superhero she had come to think of you as trash. She did, however, stick to the deal and gave you everything you had requested. When the end of the meal came, the woman invited you back to her place which was surprising considering the situation. Part of you wanted to just leave but as always you ended up in bed with her. It felt... different this time. A little rougher. A little rushed. It just wasn't what it normally was and by the end, you were both lying on opposite sides of the bed. Facing away from each other.

With tired eyes, you awake and you're alone in bed. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you stretch out your arm to where she had previously been. You push yourself into an upright position, staring out into the darkness.

"Nat?" You call out but there's no response. That's when you spy a dark figure standing in the corner of the hotel room. Your eyes narrow, trying to figure out who it was but you couldn't make out their face. "Natasha?"

Again, no answer. But the figure moves closer. You try to move but you're frozen in place. Hands envelop your neck as you stare into the darkness. Getting tighter and tighter. Your hands claw at their hands, gasping for the smallest amount of air. Your head feels like it could explode but the majority of the pain is in your throat.

"You deserve this."Is all you hear as your consciousness slipped away. Everything going, Black.

You jolt awake, your heart pounding in your chest as your hands shoot up to check your neck. Remnants of tears rest on your cheeks and your breathing is ragged. A pair of arms suddenly envelops you and in your panic, you grab a small blade from under your pillow and dig it into the arm. The grip tightens as you hear Natasha's familiar groan.

"Calm down." She whispers surprisingly softly, as her body presses up against you. "I'm here, Y/N. It's Nat."

You lay like that. Still. Natasha presses a kiss against your skin as your breathing slows. When you're calm enough, you shuffle out of Natasha's grip and go get a first aid kit. The room is cast in a picturesque glow from the moonlight and table lamp. You sit on the bed cross-legged in nothing more than a pair of panties. Natasha held her arm out and you yank the knife out. You gently hold her arm, inspecting the wound as you clean up the blood spilling down her arm.

"I'm sorry," you announce quietly. Feeling really guilty about the whole ordeal. "I didn't... mean to stab you."

"It's okay I didn't expect you to." Your gaze briefly moves to her face which wore a warm smile. "Are you okay though? You seemed to be freaking out back there."

"I..." You trail off, not wanting to share your trauma. "You just got in my head with the whole monster thing and I keep a dagger on hand in case I get like attacked or something. When you grabbed me, I panicked and I stabbed you."

"What were you dreaming about?" Natasha wonders softly. You drop your head before shrugging.

"Do you wanna go to the hospital? I've cleaned it up and I can wrap it in a bandage but I don't know if you need anything else?"

"It’s not that deep so I'll be fine. Let's just go back to bed, yeah?" she gently places her free hand on top of yours which rested on your thigh. You nod a little, grabbing the gauze and beginning to wrap it around her arm.

"Here," you offer up some pain killers and a glass of water which she takes happily. You put your equipment back in its box before placing it off to the side. Switching off the light, you lie back down in bed. Breathing heavily as you stare into the darkness. Your body tenses as you feel her arms wrap around you again, pulling you closer. After a moment, you relax into her touch as tears brim your eyes. 

"I'll keep you safe," She mumbles quietly and despite your earlier attitude, you’re glad you came home with her. 

"Natasha,"

"Yeah?"

You hesitate. "...Thank you,"

[sick-raven]

Ghosts of the Past - Chapter 8

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

Chapter 8

Life was going well. Work was great. Jonathan was good to her. He didn’t even make rude comment when lending her his Edgar Allan Poe collection. They never officially said anything about their relationship. There was something and they didn’t name it. Miranda thought about it as two broken people licking each other’s wounds.

Things were good.

So why did this happen?

Maybe… No… but maybe… All was good… So why would he?

She was sitting in the hall of her flat. Crawled in the corner, phone in her hand, stared at it. She could ruin all these good things with one question. But she had to make sure. Final touch to the doom. Final nail to her coffin.

She called Jonathan.

“I don’t have time now, Miranda, I am working,” he greeted her.

“One question.”

“Hm?”

“Are you giving me something?”

Silence on his side. She made him angry. She knew it.

“Nothing you don’t know about.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

She turned her phone off. It wasn’t his doing.

The room was black as shadows devoured it. Their tendril grew closer to her and soon they will get her too.

***

Miranda stood on the edge of the roof and she looked down. The lights of cars were running through the streets like some colourful game of Pacman. The sound carried through the air. Gotham was so noisy. Would anyone hear her scream?

“Miranda?”

Somehow, she knew he will find her here. Somehow, she hoped he will, but it angered her nonetheless. She looked over her shoulder to acknowledge him. Batman stood there ready to jump after her, if she made that one step into nothingness.

“Hey B, what’s up?” she giggled.

“Are you high?” he asked surprised.

She looked down at the pavement and back at him. “About ten floors.”

“Miranda, this is not you. Step down, please.”

“What do you know,” she hissed annoyed.

“It’s the drugs making you do things.”

“Are you going to blame Jonathan again?”

“Step down.”

She turned on one leg, nearly lost her balance, then stepped down the rail. Walked to him, throwing her arms. “Happy? That you moved the inevitable for a minute?”

“You need to stop…”

“What? Seeing Jonathan?”

“Miranda…”

“Will you school me about danger again? I’m not the clown, Bruce! It’s not the same!”

“Okay,” he resigned. “Tell me.”

She fell quiet from surprise. She scratched her head. Tell him? All? She never told the truth. But she will be dead soon. At least here she can be sincere. She sat at AC.

“I’ve been seeing ghosts for over a decade now. The charm kept them at bay. I figured I was crazy. I visited every expert in existence. Schizophrenia professional. Split personality doctor. Anxiety shrink. Whatever you imagine, I was probably there. I did all in my power to get rid of the ghosts to no avail.

So, three years ago, I decided I’ve had enough. Just make sure your charm is safe, Miranda. I could live with that. It’s like a handicap. I am pretty much carrying a bomb around that can kill me. But people live with worse, you know?”

She played with the necklace, dinging silently.

“And then I started to notice them. The shadows. I tried to rationalize them. They are the League. They try to kill me. I made them up. I keep seeing normal things and overreacting. You know? But deep down I knew it’s not true. Deep down, little Miranda was screaming at me to fix this. So, I found another professional and moved to Gotham.

See, Jonathan Crane didn’t make me this. I was this before I came here. He didn’t make me worse, the decay just caught up with me. I never really believed he can help me, you know? But I hoped. Maybe his drugs will melt some part of my brain. Fry me hard and make the ghosts disappear by accident. And if not… Hey, at least my body is useful for science.”

She rubbed her eyes. “It’s not the same. This is not – I would leave if I wanted – situation. This is – I see no reason to stop – situation. Nothing can fix me. But at least I am still doing things, trying to enjoy life. And if I kill the ghosts by accident in the process, who can blame me for being a good pet?”

“Miranda…” Batman sighed and sat next to her as if they were old friends. “You are still in very bad place.”

“Tell me about it,” she laughed. “No, I like Crane. But I will die soon. I might as well rip myself out before I start to suffer.”

“I know someone who might be able to help,” he suggested.

“Please, don’t say magic.”

He kept quiet.

“Oh my god! It’s not magic!”

“Do you have anything to lose at this point?”

“My dignity!” He looked at her. “Shut up, I know,” Miranda snapped. Then she sighed. “What’s his name?”

“John Constantine.”

***

They found John Constantine gambling in New York bar. Cards in one hand, cigarette in the other, shit-eating grin on his face. He was winning this round just like every round before that.

“Sorry, lads, looks like I won again. New round?”

“Forget it,” grumbled his opponents.

“I’d like to play.”

“Bloody hell, it’s the Bat!” Constantine drank his whiskey in one gulp. “What do you and the nice lass want?”

Miranda couldn’t see any way this man could help her. He looked like a mess. Blond hair that didn’t see brush for days. Trench coat and red tie made him look like some sort of exhibitionist ready to run wild in a park.

“He said you could help me with ghosts,” Miranda said.

“Try psychologist, love.”

“Been there, done that.”

Constantine puffed cigarette smoke with no indication he cares. Miranda was just about to ready to turn and walk out.

“Ever heard of survival curse?” asked Batman for her.

“Might have. What’s in it for you?”

“She is cursed.”

Constantine looked at her. “Nah, she ain’t. She would have them crawl all over her.”

Miranda grew angry. Would she now? She does! They are here! “If I die it’s on you,” she grumbled and took down the charm. She left it on the table.

She lost her breath immediately.

“Bloody hell take it back!” shouted Constantine and forced the charm in her hand. She gasped for air. “I haven’t seen it this big yet.”

“Can you help?” asked Batman.

“I don’t know. Let’s go.”

“I will leave you to it, I need to get back to Gotham.”

“Say hi to Nightwing for me,” grinned Constantine, but Batman was gone already. “Creepy, isn’t he?”

“I can see him go. It’s stupid when you know what to look for,” shrugged Miranda.

Constantine’s lair – yes, it was a lair, it looked like basement vault mixed with museum of curiosities – was surprisingly warm and welcoming. “Don’t touch anything, one curse is enough,” he warned her as they passed several objects. She could only guess what they were used for.

“So magic is real, huh?” she whispered to herself.

“I’m afraid so, pet. It’s dangerous thing. I would recommend not playing with it.”

“Too late.”

“Sit down.” There was a space between all the things. The ground was clean concrete. Constantine took a chalk out of drawer. “For how long are you cursed?”

“It will be eleven years soon.”

He looked at her shock in his eyes. “Eleven? That’s impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“How did you… Let me guess. The bell,” he pointed at her charm. “Your ghosts must be pissed off as hell for letting them wait so long.”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Where did you get it?

Her time was coming. She remembered stumbling, blinded by ghosts, constantly feeling them grabbing at her heart prepared to squeeze the life of it. She shuffled through market full of spices and sweets without taste. A man has seen her, took her hand and led her to a side street. She was so blinded she didn’t even realize the danger. But he took her to a shop not unlike this hideout. The owner saw her and gave her the charm. Just like that. No payment necessary.

The ghosts were gone. When she came back later with money and to say thank you, she couldn’t find the street nor the shop.

“You were lucky,” Constantine said. “Faery folk is not always so nice.”

“It’s not working anymore. They are getting through the charm. It’s weak. Or they grew stronger. I don’t know.”

Constantine nodded. He started drawing at the concrete, explaining as he did. “Ghosts are work, you know? If someone dies there is echo left after them. Sometimes it’s weak, sometimes it’s strong. Exorcism doesn’t help. Sometimes facing them head on and figuring what they want can stop them.”

“They want me dead.”

“Maybe. Anyways, I cannot promise we’ll get rid of them. But I can make your charm stronger and bound to soul.”

“A what?”

“Make it so nobody can take it off but you.”

Miranda looked at him amazed. “Really? Yes, do it!” Was she really that desperate she was ready to believe his words? Batman wouldn’t take her to some conman, right? She had nothing to lose either. She just wanted this to work. Please, please let it work.

“I will need you to come here, love.”

He finished the circle full of runes and pentagrams. She looked at it unsure. “You gonna sacrifice me?”

“No. But fair warning. People around me die often.”

“That’s fine, me too.”

He lit another cigarette. “This circle will protect you while I work on your thing. I will need your blood too.”

“Are you sure they won’t get to me?” she asked as he handed her knife and bowl. She cut herself without hesitation but taking off the charm was different commitment.

“It’s a barrier ghosts can’t cross. The inner circle is protection symbol, the ring around it is made of blessed salt. Never leave the home without it, it hurts most of supernatural beings. As long as you don’t break either they won’t get to you.”

“And you saw them, right?”

“No. I felt them. I could see them if I focused more. But they are real, if that’s what you are asking.”

“I just… overwhelmed.”

“That’s okay, love. You just sit there and let me do my job.”

“Wait, wait. What about the payment?”

“Payment?”

“You don’t look a man who does this from good of his heart.”

He chuckled. “I will help. If you want to pay me after, I drink whiskey, love money and shagging.”

“You’re funny. My treat later then.”

“Now would you give me the thing so we can kick these ghosts to bollocks?”

She took down the charm. Hand trembling, she gave it to Constantine. Ghosts appeared immediately, hoovering around the circle. She gasped, but they couldn’t touch her. The choking feeling didn’t come. She laughed nervously.

“It’s working.”

“They are pissed,” agreed Constantine.

“Will you be okay?” she realized he is out the circle with them.

“Yeah, they are after you. They are blind to anyone else.”

Miranda sat on the floor. She watched Constantine throwing things in the bowl. He poured ugly looking liquid in and dropped her charm there. He kept mumbling.

“Why are you doing this to us, Miranda?” she heard, and she jumped. They were… She understood what they were saying!

“It hurts.”

“We are lonely without you.”

“You killed us.”

“No,” she hissed. “I just didn’t die.”

“We feel empty without you here. Come to us. You are our sister. We belong together.”

“Don’t listen to them, pet, they are just trying to get to you,” Constantine said between his mumbles.

Miranda held hands on her ears.

“You promised to die with us.”

“We all agreed.”

“Die!”

When is it going to be over? She couldn’t take their words. She wanted to live, that’s all. She just left while they finished the business. Not her fault they committed suicide! That was on them, not her!

“Hold on, it’s almost finished.”

“He can’t save you, Miranda. We won’t let him.”

She raised her sight. One of them moved to Constantine.

“Watch out!” she screamed.

Too late.

The shadow hammered Constantine to the side. He screamed and flew across the room. He hit his head on a shelf and dropped to the ground. Bleeding. Not moving.

“Fuck! Constantine! John!” she shouted through laughter of ghosts. “You damn freaks!”

“Give up, Miranda. Just come out.”

The charm was too far. Even if she ran, she couldn’t get to it. Ghosts would catch her.

Fuck!

Nothing close enough to the circle. Nothing useful anyways. Her bag she could reach. But for what?

She grinded her teeth. She was trapped. Like a rat in slow heating cage. “Constantine!” she tried again. No answer. Great, they just killed her only chance for semi-normal life.

She sat down again. Hidden her face, covered her ears. Their voices resonated the room. Mocked her. Annoyed her. Making her feel like shit. She would cry. She couldn’t. Minutes turned to hour. Hour turned to several.

Nobody will help her.

She could call for help, but what can anyone do? The ghosts will just cut them to pieces. Kill them, like they did to Constantine.

Lost.

She won’t give herself up.

She needed that bag. Eyeing it she realized she could reach, grab it fast and bring it to the circle. She breathed in and prepared.

She grabbed.

A ghost cut.

She screamed and retraced. The bag safely in her hand, but on her arm was long cut bleeding hard. She quickly took off her sweater and tied it around the wound. It kept bleeding. Her only fear was the blood smearing the circle

She had her bag. What now?

“No saving yourself,” said ghost.

She knew.

“Constantine, if you are alive, I will not let you die,” she said towards him. Nothing.

She took out the pill bottle.

Doctor’s orders.

Next chapter