#it’s a weird situation because none of them exactly hold any malice about the situation

[purble-gaymer]

is mk just insane and hallucinating with the bugs (hot) or is there like a subtle implication that they reincarnated as a silly little throwaway reveal or smth (hot)

it’s sort of a similar situation to morpho i guess? if you know itsquakey’s next gen au where mk shows up as a beetle, it’s like that. they’re dead and their consciousness is in the afterlife, but they can enter the living world as insects to keep an eye on things. mk knows a bit about how the butterflies of judgment work and considering the beetles are color coordinated, he figured it out pretty fast

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner��?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[saturnwritings]

one drink too many

—after getting a bit too rowdy on a girls night out, it’s up to bakugou to take care of you when things go south and the night dwindles to a close.

pairing(s): bakugou x reader (established)

word count: 2735

warnings: bad decisions made by consumption of alcohol

a/n: special thanks to my irl friend kim for suggesting this!! and uhh,, if y’all wanna give me sum nice juicy requests i would be happy to 😎 also my first bnha fic!! kinda weird since bakugou isnt really in my list of best boys (hes like b or a tier ngl 😔 but my friend really likes him also this was v fun i starting writing at 2 and ended at like 11 but im really proud of it)

“Hey y/n! You almost ready to go? The Uber’s almost here!” 

As you held your phone up to your ear, your eyes widened. You had almost completely forgotten about the girls night out you planned, despite already being dressed. 

You promised your boyfriend you’d hang out with him before you left, so there you were: all dressed up in your fancy, going-out clothes watching Bakugou train in the on-campus gym, that is, until you got a call from Mina, which completely snapped you out of your daze.

To be honest, you could watch Bakugou train for hours, days even. The way his body moved with such determination, wow, your eyes were glued to him. Even from where you sat against the wall of the empty room, you could see his muscles flexing with every move - but you had planned this outing weeks ago and the girls would kill you if you ditched them to watch you boyfriend work out of all things. 

“Oh, yeah! I’m… on my way! I’ll see you at the entrance.” You quickly responded as you hung up. stood up and grabbed your small bag. You called out to Bakugou, who was so engrossed in fighting a punching-bag that he didn’t notice you walk over to him. 

“Hey, Katsuki, Mina just called, I gotta now,” you placed your hand on his shoulder as you tip-toed to give him a small kiss, “Don’t stay up too late training, okay?” You paused for a second, “And try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.” You teased with a small laugh. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Tch, whatever, loser.” He said, breaking eye contact, though there was no trace of malice in his voice.

***

The bar was never really your favorite place to be. It was sticky and smokey and loud and there was always a person who stood a little too close to you on the dance floor. Thankfully, you always managed to have a good and fun time and loosen up with a drink or two. And if all else fails, the bar you went to wasn’t so far from the dorms, around 15 minutes by car, so you knew if you really wanted to leave, it was no problem.

After a couple sessions of dancing with Mina and Hagakure, and probably too many rounds of shots with Jirou and, surprisingly, Yaomomo, you found yourself stumbling towards a nearby pool table, despite being surrounded by guys already engaging in a match.

“Hey! Can we, uhm, use this after you?” You slurred, probably sounding like roadlike. The guys took a second to exchange glances, then started laughing hysterically. You grew puzzled. 

“Oh,” One guy looked you up and down, “You know how to play?” You frowned. Even in your drunken state you could tell he was being condescending. You huffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean, you’re a girl?” He said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Girls don’t know how to play pool.”

“Oh yeah? Well then… I challenge you to a game!” You said as you crossed your arms over your chest and lifted your chin. You didn’t exactly think this plan through, seeing as though you weren’t really in any shape to play competitively and seriously, but drunk you was not about to take shit for a sexist stranger. The man quirked his eyebrow, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

“Okay then,” He said with a chuckle as he handed you a pool cue, “Game on,” He paused and mocked looking pensive, “and good luck.” Something about his smile didn’t sit right with you. You scoffed. By then, all your friends were gathered around to watch. 

They knew how competitive you got, and while they should probably stop the showdown to prevent bad things from happening in the near future, it was good entertainment.

After a while of playing, only the 8-ball was left; it was your turn. Feeling very buzzed, you lined up your cue and tried focusing on one of the pockets, however it seemed as though your vision just dropped to -5 and you were looking at the Eiffel Tower from Spain. In simpler terms: you were fucked. 

As much as you knew you wouldn’t be able to win, your stubbornness didn’t allow you to back out or admit defeat. As you were about to hit the ball, you felt someone behind you slightly nudge your cue, causing the ball to roll off course and instead it hit one of the walls. You gasped and looked behind you and sure enough, there was your opponent, looking extremely satisfied with a smirk on his face. 

“Hey! You cheated, what the hell?!” 

“Hm… did I? Or was I just right about little girls not being able to play pool?” Anger bubbled within you.

“No!” You shouted, “Absolutely not, you so clearly cheated! You knocked my stick and… made the ball go… somewhere else!” The mix of alcohol and anger made it a bit hard for you to think straight, and trying to think honestly gave you a headache.

“Woah! Getting pretty feisty, huh. Try to manage your emotions more, then maybe people might start taking you seriously.” He and his friends laughed. You were so taken aback that all you could do was scoff as you looked at him with disgust.

Now, sober you would definitely not approve of what you were about to do. No, normally you were composed and knew how to handle yourself; drunk you had a different plan. You growled (you had apparently picked it up from being around Bakugou so much) as you stomped over and shoved him. 

Everyone around you oohed, Uraraka and Mina exchanged nervous glances. Uraraka was close enough to you to know when you were being reckless, and Mina, usually forced into being the mediator for your and Bakugou’s arguments, knew you wouldn’t back down from a fight.

As you were about to beat this guy up, you felt Mina grab your arm and pull you back to the rest of the girls. 

“Hey! What’re you doing?” You struggled to rip your arm away from Mina’s grip, but she was steady and, admittedly, more sober. All the girls collectively sighed, and it was Mina who spoke up at the end.

“y/n, you’re out of control. You can’t just beat a random guy up at a bar just because he cheated at pool! No matter how sexist that piece of trash is…” She seemed to mumble the last part, “Let’s just try to have a fun rest of the night, okay?” She gave you a small smile as she rested her hand on your shoulder. You huffed.

“No, he deserves it! Piece of… poop,” You crossed your arms childishly “You can’t stop me!” You stormed off back to the guy, intending to give him a piece of your mind while Uraraka followed with a worried look on her face as she attempted to diffuse the situation.

“Ugh, it’s no use. She won’t listen to us!” Jirou groaned. Deep down, the girls knew that the guy deserved it, but beating him up wouldn’t solve anything and it was definitely not the mature or right thing to do, they were training to be heroes, after all. The girls were all deep in thought when Hagakure spoke up.

“Let’s call Bakugou, y/n always listens to him! Or maybe he can just carry her home if she won’t!” The girls pondered this for a second. Momo sighed.

“Unfortunately, that might be our best option,” She glanced at Uraraka standing between you and the guy, “It’s not like we could manage to get her into an Uber or on the train, let alone carry her all the way home.” All the girls seemed to have come to an agreement. They decided Mina should call Bakugou, they hung out the most and she was the person who Bakugou would most likely pick up on. 

Mina pulled out her phone and looked for the contact, holding her phone up to her ear as it rang.

“Hey Bakugou… Uhm, so there’s been a situation.”

***

After what seemed like hours, but was actually 10 minutes of trying to calm you down and hold you off long enough for Bakugou to arrive, he finally did.

The girls were in the middle of holding you back, when, out of nowhere, a hand gripped your arm strongly and pulled you away. You heard the girls sigh in relief as you were about to chew out this guy as well, when you looked up and saw none other than your boyfriend starting at you with an intense look. You became nervous before growing confused: What was Katsuki doing here? It’s girls night… he’s not a girl is he? Your drunken mind was very frazzled.

“Wait a second… what’re you doing here?” You slurred. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Tch, dumbass. Come with me, we’re leaving.” You gasped with betrayal.

“Nooo, ‘Suki I don’t wanna go! I gotta… beat his ass.” you hiccuped, followed by a very intoxicated giggle. Bakugou scoffed.

“No. You’re too drunk right now, you’re gonna do something stupid,” He said as he pulled you out of the bar by your arm, “We’re leaving.” You whined, on the verge of a tantrum, but you knew Bakugou’s word was final. You let your shoulders slump as he guided you outside, Mina followed. 

“Thanks for getting here so quickly, Bakubro, it’s hard to handle y/n when she’s like this…” Mina said, rubbing her neck awkwardly. You shifted as Bakugou held up by the waist, your arm slung around his shoulders.

“Whatever, she makes stupid decisions when she’s drunk, it’s a pain in the ass to take care of her,” He was lying, of course, he loved taking care of you, drunk of not, this was mostly for appearances’ sake. 

Mina didn’t buy it though, she knew that even though it was always you taking care of Bakugou and calming him down everyday, Bakugou cared deeply for you and did the same. Internally, she found the switching of dynamics very endearing. 

“We’re leaving, I’m taking her home.” Bakugou said, suddenly. 

“Oh, okay. Let me just get the girls and we can go-”

“No, it’s fine, just… stay there, I guess.” Mina was baffled as Bakugou looked away, “Just, ugh! Whatever, I’ll take her home, you can stay here.” He blurted out. Mina was very taken aback.

“Oh… okay then! Thanks Bakubro!” She said as she pushed the door of the bar open and headed inside. Bakugou sighed, he was too soft when it came to you. He looked back at you, practically hanging off him, and fought the urge to sigh again.

Your hair was a mess and your outfit was rumpled, you would also groan occasionally, most definitely from a headache. Being able to be outside and get some fresh air really made you realize how out of it you were, Bakugou noticed as well as you swayed slightly. You looked up and caught Bakugou staring at you, you tilted your head in confusion.

“Wait… ‘Suki? Wha-” Bakugou narrowed his eyes in confusion, waiting for you to say something, “When did you get here? I was inside, and you were… not inside” You stared off into space for a second before coming to, “Woah…”

“You were being stupid, I had to come save your ass from being beat.” Bakugou replied, rolling his eyes, “C’mon, we’re going to the station.”

“Station?”

“Train station.” 

“Ohhh… okay.” You guys stayed quiet until you arrived at the steps of the train station, only minutes away from the bar; Bakugou thought it was better than waiting for an Uber.

“Give me your bag.” Bakugou held his hand out expectantly.

“What? No! You could… steal something!” You said, shaking your head childishly.

“y/n come on! We need to get your IC card to go on the train, then we can go home.” Bakugou said, as if explaining something to a child. You thought for a second.

“Fine, here!” You took your bag off your shoulder and almost shoved it into his hands. He rummaged around before pulling out your wallet. He sighed in relief when he saw your IC card, thankfully, you had it on you at all times. Bakugou pulled out his own and guided you to the gates. 

“Ugh, why wont this stupid thing work?!” You said, scanning your card in the completely wrong place and shoving at the turnstiles. 

“You put it here.” Bakugou guided your hand to the scanner and gave a nudge as an indicator to walk through. He gave an affectionate eye roll when he heard your little ‘woah’. As much as a dumbass you were when you were drunk, he loved being able to take care of you in return for all the time you took care of him.

The carriage was near-empty and, thankfully, silent. Bakugou knew what loudness did to your headaches, and he really didn’t want to experience it right then. Due to the carriage not being busy, you were able to get seats next to each other. 

After the train started, your head naturally fell onto Bakugou’s shoulder. It seemed as though the train ride was too short and too long all at once; the moonlight was illuminating your face and your eyes were closed. He could feel the soft rise and fall when you breathed. Things like this had happened many times before, but Bakugou could never really get over how peaceful and ethereal you looked, despite being very drunk. He felt as though he could stay in that moment forever. 

He looked in the opposite direction so you couldn’t see his blush.

A short walk later and you guys were at the dorms. You stumbled into your room with Bakugou supporting you. 

“Ugh!” You groaned as you collapsed face-down on your bed. Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“No, y/n, you have to get ready for bed first before you sleep,” You responded with a groan as Bakugou lifted you up to sit upright, “Wait here.” 

A while later, Bakugou re entered the room with supplies in hand and was pleased to see you hadn’t moved, you were probably too tired to cause any more mayhem. He set the things down on the bed next to you and started to work. “Stay still, okay?” He said, you hummed and nodded slightly as a reply, already half asleep. 

Meanwhile, Bakugou took a cotton pad soaked in make-up remover and wiped it all over your face, then applied the several skincare products you had in what he hoped was the correct order and area. He had watched you enough times to have a basic understanding of your night routine, but still wasn’t quite sure of himself.

After doing your skincare, he walked over to your closet to pick out some comfy pyjamas for you. As he was filing through, he took note of the several hoodies he had previously dubbed missing, however he took one out anyway. He handed you the hoodie, expecting you to know to change. Instead, you made grabby hands at him and whined.

“‘Sukiii, I’m tired.” Bakugou sighed.

“I know, dummy, but you gotta change first, okay?” You grumbled but started to undress, before getting stuck in your clothes and Bakugou needing to help with what seemed like the 100th sigh of the evening.

Finally, you were dressed and Bakugou tucked you into bed, sitting on the covers next to you. He recounted the night, starting with getting a call from Mina saying you got into trouble and were able to fight someone, then running to the bar to save your ass and taking you home. He shook his head slightly.

“And you told me not to get in trouble,” He said, mostly to himself, he thought you were asleep, or just couldn’t understand him at this point.

“It’s not my fault! It was that guy, he was… doing stuff.” You puffed out your cheeks and furrowed your brows. Bakugou gave a small laugh and smile. 

“I know, dumbass.” When he looked back at you, he was met with your closed eyes. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, and before leaving the room, you had woken up just enough to hear him say goodnight.

“I love you, loser.”

bonus - the next day

mina: yo how’d u get to the bar so fast

bakugou: i ran wdym

mina: coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool

[la5t-res0rt]

fun fact fucko no one cares that he’s trans, gnc, or autistic. all they care about is that he said someone wasn’t bisexual all because they hate them. thats fucked up no matter who you are. being austistic isn’t an excuse to be an utter dick hole.

alrighty folks strap in because we are in for a long one today

to start off i will begin by saying that i care about the identities of people i like and call friends i care enough to listen and learn from them because they have different perspectives on issues that i as a person who is none of the things that this person is will ever understand

it is important to listen to people and learn from them not just shine a light out of your ass for someone out of a weird place of blind worship thats honestly so cringey but that isnt what this is about this about you and likely others harassing ad sending death threats my friend and comrade betel bitches

i will now be going under a readmore to spare the dashboard

so lets recap what exactly is he being harassed for

as you all are no doubt aware there is a blog called nether receipts where a certain user we shall not name catalogs instances where members of the beetlejuice fandom are harassed correction its a blog where this person catalogs instances where flaws in their character as well as the characters of the people around her are highlighted and critiqued with the occaisional off color remark and threat which i obviously do not approve of who would

anyway following reading some ill-informed and not-so-well-phrased comments from a certain narcissistic user about their sexuality my friend had this to say

this was the post that got them put on this receipts blog which really exists as a source of people for a certain cluster of the beetlebabe fandom to harass and try to drag or cancel 

this is the post that has made people call him biphobic and here is why thats wrong and stupid

you said in your ask that he only is saying that this icky person is not bisexual because there is malice between them and while yes its true that there is malice orion never once said that this person wasnt bisexual

i took the liberty of sifting through the harassment asks he received yesterday because you all love receipts so much i took the liberty of grabbing a few and adding some highlights so you dont miss the important bits

orion never once said this person isnt bisexual he stated that equating doing femme on femme  pornography to bisexuality is a biphobic statement and is in fact a problematic thing to say

there may be crossover between bisexual people and people who do femme on femme but they are far from the same thing doing pornography is a choice you actively make and you do it for compensation however being bisexual is simply part of who you are it is something you dont choose 

although this person would perhaps disagree

and before you come for me this person posted these for the world to see and obviously i have as many receipts as my drive can carry furthermore how does this argument make sense why would you care so much about heterophobia if youre not heterosexual why are you so pressed oh wait is it perhaps

because this person is using the split attraction model for woke points like this screams that this person sees women as sex objects or perhaps this person is comphet and is denying themselves because heteronormativity is so deeply ingrained in their being that they wish to cling to heterosexuality to keep up their squeaky clean white feminist woman persona or maybe theyre just not well informed on lgbt+ issues

editors note the editor is an ace person who considers using the split attraction model is situations like this isnt exactly helpful like i cant stop you from doing it but you shouldnt have to say im a bisexual heteromantic person you can just be a  bisexual woman and keep dating men you dating men doesnt erase your bisexuality saying that you would have sex with a woman but not romantically be involved with them makes the editor think woman = sex object and as a feminist the editor has to say thats fucked up

i will reiterate implying that doing pronography of any kind is equitable to a human sexualty is harmful to bisexual people and if youre like uhhh im bi and i think its okay guess what you do not speak for every single bi person so you should try harder to be compassionate for other peoples level of comfort

in any case statements like these are hurtful to bi people equating voluntary sex work to a sexuality isnt okay and its something that person should maybe address and consider apologizing for but since this person only listens to people in their inner circle and they dont even really listen to them its unlikely that this person will ever make amends for past biphobic tendencies because as everyone has been so quick to point out being bi doesnt excuse biphobia or homophobia or anything of the sort editors note heterophobia is not a legitimate issue im sorry if you feel oppressed for your straightness but really thats a you issue 

here is one more screenshot where my friend basically covers what i have just said as well as reminding the world that the owner of nether receipts is a narcissist 

being a bisexual person does not excuse you from saying biphobic things and there is literally no identifier you can use for yourself that exempts you from criticism for your actions and it doesnt mean that people cant demand that you address the wrongs youve done or said

you dont have to listen you dont have to do anything but dont be surprised if you say something shitty to a group of people and they get mad at you

also all that being said what orion said was not biphobic if anything he is raephobic but lets be honest who isnt ok there thats my one funny haha for you

we have every right to criticize someone who creates simulated cp and shares it with minors in 18+ servers or someone who equated bisexuality to voluntary sex work or someone who accuses people who disagree with them of being fascists or nazis or someone who goes out of their way to repost and edit art in a mocking manner or someone who actively claims to own a fandom like these are all critique worthy behaviors that all come from the same person who never explains their actions never holds themselves accountable for the shit they cause like we as people who share the same space as this person have every write to call bull roar when we see it

it is no secret that i dislike his person and it is also no secret that i will not hesitate to the the opportunity to drag them for being a shitty person whenever the opportunity arises and since their most recent beef with me was about how i was a bad friend i guess i figured this would be a good time to come forward for one of my friends who received dozens of harassment messages and several death threats over his commentary on the actions of this one vile individual

and i am addressing them now if they ever end up reading this or when it is inevitably sent to this person 

if youve got a problem with the way he and i or other antis critique you maybe come out from behind your wall of dipshit cronies and talk to us your damn self i am very sick of having to deal with nasti or morgan or that one minor or suz or that person that runs the rp blog or any of the others in your little hoard im tired of them trying to be slick like we see you we see all of you

all of your simulated cp aside youve said some really shitty things that you could easily amend since youve likely learned more about what it means to be lgbt+ since it is now a community you see yourself being a part of 

part of being human is learning from your past and making a better version of yourself for tomorrow and although i think you are a really awful person i dont think youre above self betterment and self reflection and self awareness 

also you dont seem to care at all when threats are being tossed around by your buddies but no matter how much me or orion or any of the others dislike what you do no person in their right mind would be okay with sending death threats and you shouldnt either you should at the very least extend that courtesy 

anyway

fuck you asker youre full of trash garbage and i hope you have a not so good day like i hope it rains or something invalidate my friends identity and ill yell at clouds

[inspirationdivine]

Wine and Pies || Lydia and Simon

Lydia and Simon have a revealing conversation, right up until the pie prizes arrive. 

Set Wednesday

Lydia pulled the curtains closed on the dying light of dusk, as purple skies gave way to black night. Today had been long and exhausting in equal measure, and she felt loose limbed as she flopped into the couch. She tucked a leg under her, running her hands through her damp hair from her earlier shower. Soft classical music was playing through her speakers. Over the course of their entanglement, Lydia had gotten less and less particular about her appearance late in the evening. The more they were stuck, the less it had mattered. Curling up in the living room in a fluffy dressing gown with a book or crossword puzzle with Simon nearby doing his own this had almost become normal. “Do you want a drink or anything? Simon?” It was ideal, really; the couch was soft on Simon’s unusually-sore body, the music was quiet enough that he could hear every note without it irritating his ears and, most importantly, Lydia seemed comfortable as she joined him on the couch. He glanced over at her as she addressed him, his attention going from absent in his puzzle-solving to dedicated, ready to do whatever it was she asked of him but this time, she was asking if he wanted something. “Uh…” He paused, wondering if she was asking out of his necessity or if this was something else. “No, ma’am, I’m okay,” He replied respectfully first, feeling his eyebrows twinge subtly. “Unless you had something in mind.” He added; he had gotten used to her asking if he needed or wanted little things here and there and he had grown comfortable enough with asking her in turn if there was something he felt he needed. Tonight wasn’t exactly atypical but it HAD been a long day… “...Wine?” He asked timidly, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. Was that what she wanted him to say? 

Lydia’s couldn’t help the indulgent smile that followed his request, along with the most disbelieving eye roll. “That wasn’t a test. None of this is a test, you know. It was just a question.” She stood up, still smiling, and walked just far enough to reach the wine cooler. Navigating around their bond had become easier over the last little while, such that she’d barely felt it tug at her today because she was so used to staying in Simon’s orbit. Lydia brought back the wine with two wine glasses, a deep fruity red for them both to enjoy. “We’ve seen each other in more than enough revealing situations in the last week, you should know by now that my bark is much worse than my bite.” Though they both knew the limit of their bond seemingly down to the inch by now, Simon still leaned slightly to give her more slack as she went around and retrieved a bottle of dark red wine and two glasses, blue eyes following her figure. “You have a point,” He agreed before hastily adding “er, about the having spent time around each other.” Far be it for him to tell someone or agree with someone on saying their bark was worse than their bite. Part of him wanted to apologise already; he didn’t usually drink so the thought of relaxing on a couch listening to classical and sipping wine never occurred to him. She was tasteful though, the way she positioned herself on the couch, the way her gown draped over her fair shoulders and even her fingers running through her hair and holding a glass of wine - she was picturesque. He refrained from apologising, instead taking one of the glasses carefully. “Thank you.” He said instead. “Today was… strangely long. I’m not even sure why.”

Lydia just laughed at his usual tact. No matter how much her mood doured when they had to interact with the outside world, whenever she was pulled out of her element and into his, in the evenings, when there were no more pretences about trying to work or anything like that, and it was just the two of them, it was easier to have fun with it, and with him. “Today did feel long. I think it’s that the sun keeps setting later, and we’re both trying to do so much.” It was also draining, spending so much time with the same person day in, day out. That didn’t really need saying anymore. “Once we solve this, what are you going to do, for fun?” Simon glanced at her with a small smile (he enjoyed the sound of her genuine laughter), then looked down at the wine he swirled in his glass rhythmically. “Oh, I’m… probably just gonna go back to doing what I did before,” He shrugged his good shoulder. “I don’t really… do that much.” There was an objectivity to his voice, not self-pitying or pathetic but mildly factual. “I go to work, then wander around town people-watching or I just go home, feed my birds and sleep.” He scoffed; it sounded very boring when he mentioned it like that. “What about you?” He asked, looking at her. “I’m sure you have a plethora of hobbies and ways to occupy your schedule.”

“No secret bowling games? Illegal urban exploration? Although in a town like this the latter is probably not advisable.” Lydia coaxed him, leaning in a little more curiously. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re the quiet type. And I’m sure that here in Wicked’s Rest there’s more to see than your regular city people watching.” Lydia fingered her wine glass, swirling her glass in thought as she considered his question. The most honest answer wasn’t one she was sure she could give him. Simon was sweet, and good natured, and soft. Lydia had no doubt that if she told him her main plan was to continue hunting, it would frighten him away. The thought made her distinctly uncomfortable. “Return to the art circuit. There’s this art gallery with exclusive parties that I want to get into. Eat. I play poker with a small group of people on Thursday nights. That, and, well, there are a few people I want to check on. I imagine I’ll make that a priority.” “Sorry, nothing as exciting as secret bowling games,” Simon chuckled. “I’ve seen some weird stuff while people-watching, though.” Part of him wanted to add that most of his spare time consisted of helping other people out with various and sundry activities or problems but kept the comment to himself. Nothing but the last thing she said surprised him and he quirked an eyebrow slightly. She checked on people? He had gotten to know a fair amount about his host during their forcible stay together and he was able to tell that she had a well-hidden quality of empathy and kindness about her, so the more he thought about it, the less surprised he should’ve been but it still caught him off-guard compared to the ‘eat and go to an exclusive art gallery party’-- wait, eat? Eat what? He remembered her saying that she didn’t eat human food but he didn’t press the matter at the time. “That’s sweet of you,” He referred to the last bit first. “What would you eat?” He decided to ask at the risk of upsetting her; she was private and he didn’t like to ask pressing questions but he supposed his curiosity got the better of him; what would someone like her eat if she didn’t eat human food?

“What kind of things have you seen?” Lydia asked curiously. She smiled at his comment, shaking her head. There was a moral duty to help people in one’s community, and White Crest had far too many wayward souls. Her attention quickly turned to her glass at his question. Too honest, perhaps. It wasn’t like she hadn’t eaten, in a perfunctory kind of way. Locking herself behind doors and cradling Chloe and Sammy for thirty minutes at a time. Chloe would curse her out softly for leaving them alone for so long, Sammy would pick at his cuticles and say nothing, resting his head against her chest. It wasn’t much, just enough to soothe the longing in their chests, and hers in turn. Enough to keep their loyalty strong. If you don’t think you’re doing the wrong thing, then why are you hiding us? Chloe had asked. Lydia had slammed the door in their faces seconds later, the question left unanswered. “My diet is that of life itself,” she replied quietly, not out of shame but out of fear. “I can take it in increments, from any living individual's body.” Though he knew she had asked him a question first, Simon found himself acutely interested in her answer to his own question, which he was sure was an inappropriate response to someone saying that they drained the life force from people; normally, he thought, that would prompt someone to avoid everything to do with that person but for some reason, he didn’t. He also didn’t think that she had fed off of him, or at least not that he was able to tell. Then again, he wasn’t sure what that experience felt like. He wanted to ask, but… Was that what she did behind the doors? He wondered why she didn’t just drain his life force and call it a day - maybe it was too tedious? The question burned inside him, as did a few others. Simon knew she didn’t like humans… were they the ones she fed off of? Was he supposed to think she was a monster because of this? So far, he’d only met one person in White Crest who chose to be the supernatural species they were, so he was under the impression that she didn’t choose to be this way. Could he fault her for what she was? Of course he couldn’t, nor would he. He also wondered if that was one of the reasons why she was so private. He found himself tilting his head slightly again, keeping his blue eyes on her with a gentle expression. He opened his mouth to respond but honestly didn’t know what to say without making it seem like he was either undermining her honesty with a light response, ignoring what she said by answering her first question or being far too dire, which didn’t properly reflect how he was feeling with this information. “I appreciate you telling me,” is what he eventually opted to go with, his tone lacking any form of negativity or malice. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to be nosy.” He looked away from her and down at his own glass this time. “I was just curious.”

“That’s quickly becoming one of my least favourite words,” Lydia teased him lightly, ducking her head so that he could see she was smiling even as he looked down at his glass. “You wouldn’t have asked if you’d thought it was an intrusion, and I wouldn’t have answered had I thought it was a step too far. You needn’t apologise for expressing curiosity. If anything, it seems to have served you well so far, considering how little you knew two months ago.”  Nothing. He had barely known at all. Simon was in so many ways a pup. Sometimes he didn’t look like he knew what to do himself. “You don’t have to make yourself so small, you know.” “S--” Simon cut himself off and instead, catching Lydia’s smile, returned it with a small, unsure smile of his own; he was glad that his question didn’t seem to ruin her mood. What she said did bring up a good point he had been neglecting whether intentionally or not; he really didn’t know anything about what he knew now before he moved into town. Some of it - a lot of it - was much easier to digest for him but he was thankful for so many opportunities TO learn through his annoying questions and curious inquiries. He was thankful again for her patience and he started to look up from his glass again but couldn’t quite make it to her face and he settled for keeping his eyes absently on the floor. He had a handful of things he could’ve responded to her with but filed them away as ‘unimportant’. “I just…” He searched for something to say that wouldn’t make it seem like he was talking about himself. “Other people are more interesting.” He said, not dishonestly, using the little boost in confidence at what he said to look at Lydia once more. “Like you. I think you’re fascinating to observe and listen to, how you solve problems, how you spend your time, even what you eat.” His face grew more expressive as he talked. “Your expressions, what makes you happy, what upsets you; you’re an impressive force of nature who’s bold and knows what she wants… at least most of the time.” 

Lydia held his gaze as he spoke. She didn’t immediately sit straighter, or preen, or tease him. Her ego was already engorged, but his words sank right into a small ache into her chest. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so,” Lydia murmured. “It would be a terrible fate to be stuck to someone you couldn’t tolerate to think about. I must say, though, that I disagree with you. There are not many more individuals in this town that are more interesting than you.” Albeit, most of them were human, but that didn’t change much. “You shouldn’t talk of yourself like that.” His brow faltered; had he said the wrong thing? Simon realised after he was done that he probably put her on the spot with his… ramble. He had to stop doing the whole ‘flowery talking’ thing he tended to do. He did scoff at what she said though, not out of disrespect for her or what she said but rather at himself for giving her that impression. “There are,” He replied with a false smile on his face this time, looking back down at his wine. “Like all the people I’ve seen. There was this one who ran around barking like a dog in school until she was 17,” He remarked. “I’ve met people here who can do extraordinary things; there’s this kid who invented a machine combined with magic that he could remotely activate to deliver a fatal electric shock. I met a witch who turned mayonnaise into super glue. Nora’s an extremely talented painter and an expert of fear. I’ve met other werewolves who have full control over themselves and describe it as this amazing thing, like they actually like BEING w--” He cut himself off sharply after he said that last part and cleared his throat. “So while I appreciate the compliment, I’m… just a guy.” He said quietly. 

That made her heart ache too - that smile that didn’t reach his eyes, as he looked away. His crowfeet barely shifted. Lydia might never truly understand the difficulty of being changed, of having your identity ripped into something new, but it didn’t change how much it horrified her when people admitted how little they liked themselves. “You don’t think that your pianist abilities, your kindness and the way you make people comfortable around you aren’t also incredible things?” She asked softly, shifting her weight to sit a little closer. Lydia bit her lip. “Do you not like being a werewolf because you don’t feel in control?” She asked quietly. That seemed to be the crux of it, for him, for Jeff, for Remmy. Simon didn’t move when she got closer but he wasn’t looking at his glass anymore; his gaze was unfocused, half-lidded and somewhat narrowed and an exhale escaped his thin lips. “No, not really.” It was his turn to murmur, feeling himself tense up slightly and he tried to work up another half-smile but he never got there, the corner of his mouth twitching instead. He considered not responding to her question about being a werewolf at all; he felt inherently wrong in how he felt about that situation, like he was incorrect in his judgements or feelings regarding the whole ordeal. He hadn’t been honest with but one person since he suffered the Bite eight months ago; at this point, it was easier for him to just shrug it off like it didn’t matter which… despite what anyone said to the contrary, it didn’t. “And, uh… I suppose. Sor-- Er, I didn’t mean to bring that up; I don’t know where it came from.” He did release a nervous chuckle this time. “It’s nothing, really. I just figure people don’t mind me being around for… some reason.” Because I’m ineffectual and blend in well to the background. 

Lydia leant back, shifting to curl her other leg under her too, in a rather feline manner. She knew better than to keep pushing. “I hope you find someone to mentor you,” was all she said, her gaze compassionate. She’d been about to add something else, but… Lydia could smell butter. Butter and flour, baking? Maybe? “Do you have something in the oven?” She asked, just before the air in front of her exploded into a confetti of flakey pieces of pie crust. A piece of paper and a tin dropped out of the explosion into her lap, and Lydia jolted, eyes flaring. Picking up the piece of paper, Lydia frowned. “Simon? Why does this say that I’ve come third in the weird pie contest?” Simon did catch her look when she replied and he found himself regulating his breathing when she responded with her hidden gentleness, unaware up until that point that he must’ve been getting nervous as his mind kept starting and erasing and restarting sentences until he found the right combination of words. He himself wanted to say something too when he also caught the smell of something. Food, like a cake that was almost ready to come out of the-- He heard her ask about if he had something in the oven and he resisted the urge to give her a  somewhat dry look as if to say ‘like you wouldn’t know if I had something in the oven’ but he didn’t have to refrain for long when the air exploded and Lydia recoiled as something landed in her lap. He tilted his head with curiosity, then almost physically bounced with a childish excitement. “Oh! Remember those pies I wanted to make? When we submitted them, I wrote your name on the slip.” He explained as he looked at the tin briefly but ultimately looking back at Lydia.

“You can’t be serious,” Lydia said, looking at him. But he was. She huffed, rolling her eyes in frustration. “Why would you do that?” She stood up, throwing the pie crust flakes off her dressing gown and onto the floor. “I realise I helped, but Simon, this was your idea, your work. Why wouldn’t you take credit for that?” The tin can rolled off her lap and clattered to the floor, after huffing for a moment she bent down to pick it up. “A tin for storing negative thoughts in? What kind of prize is this?” His gaze followed her as she stood, pie flakes fluttering about her like glitter and Simon didn’t immediately answer her, instead giving her a look that was a mixture of timid hopefulness and somewhat like a dog that got caught breaking a benign rule. “Yeah but it was your oven, house and know-how that kept the kitchen from combusting.” He replied, head shaking slightly with instinct as the tin clanged on the floor before she picked it back up. He eyed the tin with raised eyebrows. “A lot of people have receptacles they hold negative thoughts in but usually those are in the forms of diaries or other written documents.” He couldn’t deny that he was curious though. Perhaps you wrote down the negative thoughts on pieces of paper and put them in the tin? It wasn’t a very… original idea but he supposed it could’ve been worse, especially considering he hadn’t anticipated on even being available to be judged alongside the people that made actual pies for actual people.

“Simon, did you consider that perhaps I didn’t want my name involved in major town affairs?” Lydia retorted, her eyes hard to his mischievous look. As soon as she said it, the tin grew heavier in her hand, and the thought vanished from her mind entirely. “I- What did I just say?” Simon’s head cocked further to the side, almost like he was hearing something distant and shrill and he was trying to listen better. “Uh… you got mad at me for putting your name on the submission form,” He recalled in a manner of speaking. Honestly, the thought hadn’t occurred to him that she probably didn’t want to be recognised in a pie-making competition though to his credit, he absolutely didn’t enter that contest with the intention of winning; he just wanted to do something nice for everyone’s dogs. “Sorry…” He apologised out loud this time, his expression falling as his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know that it would actually be judged or that it would… win anything.”

“Uh, oh,” Lydia said. Why didn’t she remember that? All the same, Simon deflated, and Lydia felt bad that whatever she didn’t remember had done that. “Just… don’t do it again. I work hard to… maintain myself in a certain way in the public view. For important reasons. It frightens me to lose control of that.” Her hand dropped and she lost her grip of the can as it suddenly became much heavier again, and it smacked against the floor hard enough to leave a dent. The previous sentence once again lost from her mind. “That’s deeply disturbing. Either way, I do believe it’s yours now. These prizes belong to you. Your work, your innate creativity. I won’t claim credit for that. In fact,” Lydia picked up the certificate again, the corners of her lips turned up. “Let’s restore this to what it should be, hm?” Simon flinched from the sound again and his brow furrowed when she dropped the tin - he knew that she tended to be careful and precise with her movements so it was unusual for him to see her drop something as though she wasn’t holding onto the thing carefully. “I’m sorry… I’ll keep that in mind in the future, I pr-- Uh, yeah.” He scooted over on the couch closer to where she was sitting and leaned forward to pick the tin up curiously, glancing up at Lydia who was holding the certificate. The tin didn’t… SEEM that heavy but he shook it in his hands as if to see if it had anything in it. Empty. Very curious. “. ..Sorry, restore what?” He asked rather dumbly, bringing his full attention back to her.

“The certificate,” Lydia replied patiently, her momentary anger returning back to a quiet simmer, with a real, if pointed smile. She looked at the tin in his hand suspiciously, more questionable than anything else about this whole situation. What kind of third place prize was it, anyway? “No public attention, no one needs to know but you and me, but at the very least the certificate should have the right name on it. Luckily, I happen to be an expert in covering up damage on things. You’re not going to dissuade me, so come on.” Simon set the tin on the couch beside him as he kept his eyes on Lydia. His expression flitted from timidly curious to mournful that they were in this position to gentle in his smile, all passing in a matter of seconds in his eyes and brow. He stood up slowly, still holding the glass of wine and though part of him wanted to dispose of the certificate altogether - he knew he was going to have trouble seeing it without thinking about that time he didn’t read the room properly and unintentionally threw Lydia into the public eye - she had said that he wasn’t going to dissuade her, and she was correct. He wouldn’t. “I can-- I can go tell them that it was my idea…” He offered. “If that would help wipe the tarnish from your reputation.” His stomach was in knots; the more he thought about it, the more foolish he felt. He just wanted to-- and the way she smiled when-- and the looks she gave him when he screwed up-- How he failed on purpose to get her to join him in something. He thought he might’ve been frustrated; he knew he should’ve mentioned that he didn’t want to be judged as an actual contestant. And for what, a piece of paper and an empty tin? He exhaled, unclenching his jaw and he felt his grip on the glass loosening - he was thankful for the new moon, otherwise he might’ve accidentally shattered it. “You are an expert, indeed,” He replied softly, glancing down at her demure, regal frame and giving her a small smile.

“Tarnish my reputation? I think that might be putting it a tad strongly. You made pies for dogs. You weren’t like,” Lydia cringed. “that Adam fellow.” She led him into her studio, where he had already been several times before. They’d brought him in a comfortable chair, so that he could sit and read while she worked in silence for hours at a time. She grabbed an easel from by the wall and her paint pallet from the desk. It only took a drop of solvent to reactivate the restoration grade paints on there. In the lights she could see the cream shade of the certificate, the quality of the dense paper it was printed on. She saw sunflower yellow and ice pink and white, colours she could pick and mix by heart. Forty years of this, and it was easy to match the paint to the paper, carefully painting over the delicate loops of her name. “Much like you don’t like to turn the spotlight on yourself, I don’t like to lose control,” Lydia said quietly. It was easy to talk like this, focused only on the paint in front of her. With one last look for now at the tin and setting his glass on a passing table - he wasn’t going to drink it, he didn’t think - Simon followed Lydia to the studio, familiar by now in the path they took and still matching her pace as resolutely as ever. He supposed it could’ve been worse; his submission COULD’VE had a creepy melted face on it but that was… a bit much. ‘Tarnish’, while indeed a strong word, still felt like it could’ve applied but he hoped she knew that that wasn’t his intention. Either way, they were in the studio by the time he reached the end of that line of thought and he followed her around until she seemed to be set up and part of him, though he was still sore from the day, wanted to stand close enough to her to observe her work but one of the last things he wanted to do was crowd her so he settled in the chair, leaning forward on his knees and keeping his eyes on her as she worked. “Sometimes I have a hard time picturing an instance where you wouldn’t be in control,” He said mildly, rubbing his hands together absently. “Or at least be able to recover quickly.” He added as if to note their specific scenario with it.

“Yet you have seen me less in control than I think I have been the entire time I have lived here,” Lydia replied, setting down her paint brush. If one looked closely, of course, the paint was obvious. The lettering of the rest of the document was ink, not paint. But if one looked at a simple glance, they would see what they should. Credit where credit was due. Lydia had no capacity for creativity, her inspiration was made to give, not keep. But she hadn’t given any here. Whatever… dubious artistic talent the judges had seen in the pie, they hadn’t come from her. Lydia had operated the oven and the easy unstick spray. Lydia had been a tool in his art, nothing more. “Fixed.” Her tone was still cool, still unimpressed. Her hand curled into a tiny little fist, and then flexed again. “I appreciate that you’re trying to remedy this. Likely, time will be the better treatment here. Trying to change anything more would lead to more unwanted attention.” “You’re probably right,” Simon sighed, his brow furrowing and he swallowed whatever urge he wanted to say along the lines of ‘it was nice seeing that you were at least pretending to have fun towards the end of that night’; he was finding himself doubting if that’s what was happening or if that’s just what he wanted to see. He wasn’t sure what he wanted-- well, yes he did… right? He knew one thing for certain and that was to be more careful with how he… went about doing things. Part of him wondered if he put Lydia’s name on the submission to let her get the credit or more to make sure he didn’t get attention. He hadn’t thought about it being a selfish move on his part until just then and that just twisted more knots in his stomach. “Thanks for… fixing it,” He said quietly but genuinely and though he wanted to apologise yet again, he didn’t and decided to leave it at that, his hands knotting around each other nervously.

“It’s rightfully yours,” Lydia replied with finality, standing up. She rubbed her face, and thought about the sad bottle of wine left half finished in the living room, and the strange weighted tin prize. There were pie crust flakes scattered everywhere, that would get rubbed into the couch and flooring if they weren’t careful. The conversation had been so pleasant, before, soft and delicate, and heartwarming. Lydia’s shoulders slumped as she looked back up at Simon, exhausted and now disgruntled. She pushed a smile onto her features, and said, “Let’s go to bed.” Simon caught the shift in body language, getting the feeling that he had ruined the night with his… stupid pie stuff. Always something, always something for him to screw up. Her smile looked artificial, like she didn’t want to. Maybe he was just imagining it. He paused for a moment before getting to his feet slowly. “Yes, ma’am,” He replied softly.

 @inconvenientsimonstrocity

[sweetladymoon]

okay prompt for jiara if you’re interested??? so when kie and john b get in the little arguement at the Craine house and slap each other you can hear Pope and JJ in the background making little comments. After John B slaps Kie, JJ sounds like hella protective. Idk maybe something about JJ being protective over Kie and her asking why??? leading to them talking about their feels

Yes, hi! I’m very much interested. This was such a cool idea that I immediately went on writing it. This turned out a bit longer than I originally planned, but oh well. Thank you so much for sending in that prompt, I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoy the outcome!

I also posted this on AO3

______

“You know, we had a good thing going. And then you decide to rope in Barbie, and now the trail’s gone dry. Coincidence? Probably not.”

She sounds bitter even to her own ears, but she knows someone has to say it. JJ and Pope share meaningful looks every time Sarah is mentioned but they never dare to point out the obvious. Maybe, because they just don’t know Sarah Cameron like she does.

She knows how easy it is to fall into the Kook princess’s trap. How she gets under your skin and weaves herself into your heart. But Kiara also knows what it feels like to be let down by that very same girl. One day you’re her number one and the next she barely acknowledges you. Sarah was her best friend once and if things had turned out differently, she maybe even could have been more and Kiara knows how much it hurts being replaced by the girl from one second to the other.

So, when she tries to talk some sense into John B, tries to warn him about Sarah, she doesn’t do it out of jealousy or her grudge against the girl but out of genuine concern. John B might say that it’s not like that between them but she had always been able to read him like an open book. And really, it isn’t that hard considering that he always wears his heart on his sleeve. She knows the look on his face when he talks about Sarah, has worn it herself at one time probably, and she won’t allow the Kook princess to cause any more harm to them.

She had gotten over it, over Sarah, after some time. She had figured that maybe that was just what Kooks did, or maybe what this particular Kook did and swore to never get involved with them ever again. JJ, Pope and John B always had her back and so she was easily distracted and moved on quicker than one might guess. But seeing her again now, seeing her try to play her games with her best friend brings some of the hurt, the betrayal back and she won’t let Sarah get away with it for a second time.

Because John B isn’t like her. He’s too trusting, too nice for his own good and she doesn’t know if he could handle the betrayal when Sarah eventually decides that she has enough of slumming it with them.

Besides, having John B fall for Outer Banks’ very own Sarah Cameron would have been bad on a regular day, but now there are bigger things at stake. They are being chased by guys with guns for crying out loud. Kiara knows that this shit, this little treasure hunt was turning into something far more dangerous than any of them had expected. And getting someone they don’t trust a hundred percent involved in all of this, doesn’t only seem reckless but plain stupid.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you about Sarah,” John B replies and she is already annoyed by his lecturing tone, “What the hell’s the deal with you two?”

She hates how much he makes it sound like she’s the problem here. As if she’s the one risking not only their plan but their lives.

“Nothing,” she replies because she doesn’t want to go into detail about what happened between her and Sarah. It’s none of his business and she doubts he would even understand. Not being invited to a birthday party really doesn’t seem like that big of a deal anymore compared to what they were facing at the moment but it had hurt nevertheless and she wouldn’t forgive the other girl any time soon.

“Nothing?” he repeats, “Is it because I kissed you? Is that the problem?”

He wears a painfully condescending smirk on his face, one that feels so wrong, so foreign on his face. It doesn’t suit him to act so patronizing. It’s not him, she knows out of all of them he’s probably the one who’s the least petty and seeing him act like that really makes her want to slap him. So, she does.

It’s not with a lot of force or malice behind it, she just wants to remind him who he’s talking to. The sound is louder, more deafening than the action. Her hand barely stings and his cheek hasn’t even gotten a red tinge to it.

She hears the boys behind her exclaim slightly amused sounds of awe and JJ adds “That echoed, dude!”. She’s dimly aware of the fact that they’re still beneath Mrs. Crain’s house, an axe murderer if JJ is to be believed, and that they should really try to be silent. After all, she doesn’t really plan to get arrested for breaking and entering but she still feels anger bubbling at the pit of her stomach and she blurts out the words before she can stop herself.

“Stop treating me like I’m some girl that’s obsessed with you instead of your best friend who’s actually trying to look out for you.”

“Did you hit me?” asks John B, completely ignoring her previous words. The disbelief in his voice almost makes her regret her actions. Almost.

Instead of apologizing or going on with their argument she simply lifts her right hand, displaying the tiny insect she caught with her slap and answers, “Skeeter”.

“Skeeter?” he asks obviously not believing her stated intentions and before she has any chance to react, his hand suddenly lands on her cheek. His slap mirrors hers. It’s weak, without any actual intention of hurting the other behind it but it still echoes loudly.

If they didn’t have the attention of the other’s before, they sure as hell have it now. JJ’s “Hey, alright, no” is far more serious and insistent than she expected. Any note of amusement that had previously inhabited his voice is gone. It’s unusual for him to sound so serious and she is almost surprised that this kind of behavior appears now. After all, it’s just her and John B. They wouldn’t actually hurt each other.

She has already forgiven John B his actions when he presents his own hand and says “Skeeter”. She can see the mischief in his eyes, the laughter and knows she must wear a similar look. It’s like a silent agreement between them to let things be for the moment and focus on the situation they currently found themselves in. She hits him lightly on the chest and he slaps her arm in return all under the pretense of getting rid of mosquitos. It’s playful and she finds herself giggling along to their actions, yet she still feels JJ’s eyes burning on her.

“All right, can we leave this? Because this is getting-“ JJ starts to stay, still with an unknown tension in his voice. Pope interrupts him before he can finish his sentence though and they quickly scramble together to help him reveal the well. She immediately forgets about her little squabble with John B but JJ’s eyes never seem to leave her frame and she sees a question in them she’s not quite sure how to answer.

It isn’t until later when they all find themselves at the chateau that JJ approaches her. She’s outside, sitting near the water, still trying to calm down after seeing Sarah again earlier that day, when he approaches her. In true JJ fashion he plops down next to her but when she looks over she isn’t greeted by his usual lopsided grin. He still wears that weirdly concerned look on his face and she almost wants to reach out to him to make the worried crease between his eyebrows disappear.

“You alright?” he asks and she allows herself a small smile over his worry.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? It was a weird day. No one would blame you for feeling a bit out of it. You know, with Sarah and the whole slapping the shit out of each other with John B.”

She huffs in amusement, “We didn’t slap the shit out of each other. It barely hurt. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

JJ doesn’t join in on what would usually turn into their regular banter. He still has that upset look in his eyes and she’s not entirely sure how to get rid of it. She doesn’t like seeing him like this. One of the reason she enjoys being around JJ so much is that no matter how dire a situation seems he can always lighten up the mood. He always finds a way to make her laugh.

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

He rolls his eyes and slowly reaches out and caresses her cheek, the same spot that John B’s palm had met only hours ago. His thumb lightly brushes over her skin and he says “No, because you’re you, Kie and I don’t see why anyone would ever want to hurt you.”

It suddenly feels like the air around them has changed. JJ’s concerned gaze has been replaced with something she can’t quite name. Kiara feels a wave of nervousness come over her, something she is unfamiliar with in the presence of JJ. She has always been comfortable, at ease with him but this, this isn’t the JJ she is used to. It’s not bad though, this more serious, caring side of him she realizes while still being fully aware of his hand on her face. Her skin is tingling where his fingertips press softly into her cheek and she has to visibly suppress a shudder.

She breathes in deeply and lets herself press into the warmth his hand offers. They simply look at each other, neither of them daring to break the silence. Slowly his hand slides down her face, towards her shoulder and then further down until his hand reaches her wrist. She looks down at their hands, strong fingers delicately encircling her small wrist and in one swift motion she interlocks their fingers.

Holding hands with your friend shouldn’t be weird and it isn’t, but the fluttering feeling in her stomach that only increases when JJ starts drawing tiny circles with his thumb, tells her that something about this is different. There is more to this than friends providing each other comfort.

Slowly she lets her eyes draw away from their intertwined hands and looks him in the eyes. She feels the smile that traces her lips before she can stop it and no more than murmurs “You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’ve had enough practice.” Kiara huffs in amusement. She feels like she is doing that a lot around JJ.

“I know,” she answers, “I’ve had first row seats to watching you make most of your conquests.”

“Think about where you could have been if you’d only given into my advances.”

“Yeah,” she laughs, “I think I can imagine.”

“I’m not sure you can, Kie. I might have to prove how good we’d be together eventually.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks already feeling a giggle trying to break through the surface. It’s easy to fall into their routine of banter and teasing and she already feels the weight of the day being lifted off her shoulders.

“Yeah. I mean c’mon, it only makes sense. I’m gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. We’re bound to happen.”

If she were a different girl she might have blushed but instead Kiara laughs, freely and full of joy. She quickly squeezes his hand and then she says “Well, why wait for some other time if you can prove it to me now?”

She makes it sound teasing, challenging but she wonders if he catches the hint of seriousness behind it. Apparently he does because the smile that had inhabited his face only moments ago is gone in an instant and in its stead she can see the look of genuine surprise appear in his eyes. He blinks several times, almost looing shocked at her statement and she guesses she can’t really blame him.

Normally she accepts his flirting but eventually shuts it down with a gentle but persistent “Shut up, JJ” or “Fuck off”. Never before has she suggested actually turning their flirting into more.

Something in the back of her brain already screams at her to reel back, put a stop to it before they go too far. Before she has a chance to ruin her friendship with JJ. That her rule of no Pogue on Pogue macking exists for a reason, but she wills that voice to shut up. Because all she knows is that she has never felt happier than in this moment, with JJ’s hand in her hers and his nervous eyes on her face.

“You don’t mean that,” he says eventually but his voice is unsure.

“Why not?” her tone is bolder than she feels.

“Don’t play with me, Kie. We all know how you feel about John B.” That takes her by genuine surprise and it must show on her face if JJ’s questioning look is any indication to go by. “I mean, you kissed him after all,” he adds and she really wants to roll her eyes.

“He kissed me,” she corrects, “and I’m pretty sure I shot him down.”

“But I thought-“ he starts but interrupts himself soon afterwards. She gives him a moment to try and process the information he just received and squeezes his hand again. She doesn’t even try to hide the smile that creeps on her lips while watching JJ’s perplexed face.

“You can be really dense, you know that?” she asks and before the logical part of her brain can stop her. And before she even has the chance to overthink her action, she already leans over and presses her lips softly against his.

For a moment JJ doesn’t react but then she feels his lips move beneath hers and all at once the kiss becomes more urgent, more desperate. His free hand finds the back of her head and proceeds to softly pull her hair. The action makes a soft moan escape her lips and she can feel him grin in response.

They stay like that for minutes, maybe hours and only pull away from each other when they both have to take in a desperate breath of air. JJ brushes back a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes and his signature grin finds its way back onto his face once again. “Told you I’d prove to you how good we are together eventually,” he says and Kiara only shakes her head in amusement, not being able to stop grinning herself.

[askguyslikeus]

((thank you to guest writer @actualbird !!!))

See the thing about Evangeline is that it's pretty much as old as Jeremy and Michael's entire friendship. Probably older, actually. Evangeline, of course, being the minifridge in their dorm that houses the Jeremy’s fantastic stock of Mountain Dew Red.

It was passed down into the Mell household from a distant relative before landing in Michael's basement for prime snacking purposes. There, high on sentimentality and weed, teen Jeremy and Michael named the fridge after roughly an hour of scrolling through baby names while Evie ("Holy shit," Jeremy remembers saying to the ceiling. "Evie can be its nickname. That's so cute. Evie.") kept watch in the corner.

They take Evie with them when they go to college ("Ohana means family," Michael had said. "And family means no fridge gets left behind.") and it's been smooth sailing ever since. Evie doubles as a bedside desk. Evie's fridge door is home to various post its, three weird magnets, and the loving “P1” sign. Evie's soft, steady hum rings out through their dorm without fail.

Well, without fail until a few weeks ago when Evie's hum sputters from a constant thrum to an erratic buzz. Jeremy didn't think it was a problem because Evie was still refrigerating and a good smack usually set the it back on track for a few hours, but when the smacking stopped working, he just gets used to the weird buzzing beat. At one point, Michael says he could probably make a sick song from the beats, but before he can help Michael record Evie, Evie makes a final, desperate, pathetic sounding thunk.

The next day, Evie is nothing more than a lukewarm cupboard filled with equally lukewarm soda.

Which is how they end up at a Target that weekend, staring down at the overwhelming magnitude of the kitchen appliances section. Jeremy, in the face of an entire aisle of minifridges, feels uneasy. Out of depth. Intimidated. Out of everything he's faced in his life, right now, slowly walking past fridges that look cooler than he is, this feels like war. Which it absolutely isn't but the connotations of buying a fridge seem monumental at the moment. This is a life milestone. Buying a fridge.

Jeremy says none of this. Instead, he looks at a fridge, turns to Michael, and very intelligently says, "Fridge."

"Fuck, man," Michael nods sagely, placing a hand on Jeremy's shoulder.  "They sure do."

They indulge in maybe three seconds of solemn eye contact before Michael breaks, his poker face splitting into a smile before turning into straight up cackles.

"Shut uuuup," Jeremy rolls his eyes, trying to shove Michael but he slings an arm around his shoulder, still snickering.

"Nah, dude. Do you have like, any other wise words to tell me?"

"Yeah, two. 'Fuck' and 'off'." Jeremy sticks his tongue out because he's like five, whatever. "Look at the fridges, dude. We have to pick a fridge."

"We have to pick a fridge," Michael repeats, but his words have a rhythm to it. Jeremy's seen this happen enough to know what'll happen next.  "We have to. Have to pick a fridge," Michael says, bobbing his head to the beat he's making. Michael can turn anything into a jingle. Jeremy once read him the ingredient list on a box of Nerds and he turned it into a theme song. Dextrose, sugar, malic aaaaaacid, corn, corn, corn syrup. It was awesome. It was catchy. It was stuck in Jeremy's head for days. "Gotta pick a fridge. A fridge. A fridge." Michael croons, turning his gaze to Jeremy. "Because we are---take it away, Jer."

"Uhhhh," Jeremy thinks, hoping real hard that he doesn't just say 'fridge' again. "Fffff--" he says. Fuck. Salvage the situation. "Fffffridgehunters. We are Fridgehunters."

"Oh, shit, that sounds rad.” Michael grins, high fiving Jeremy. “Fridgehunters. Hunting for a fridge.”

For the lack of anything better to do, Jeremy adds some harmony. “Hunting for a fridge,” he sings before realizing they do have something better to be doing. “Dude, we can’t be singing about hunting for a fridge if we aren’t even looking at the fridges.”

“Compelling point,” Michael says valiantly. “But consider that, for some reason, I feel really intimidated by all these fridges.”

“Oh, thank fuck. Me too.” Jeremy sighs in relief. “Inheriting fridges is one thing but like, getting one? Choosing one? We’re going to die here.”

“No. No we won’t,” Michael says, suddenly determined. He lets go of Jeremy and stomps to a nearby fridge. “Come on, Jeremy. Let’s fucking do this. For Evie.”

They both look at the fridge. Jeremy reads the, what, the fridge stats (?) printed on the little card on the door. “These sure are words.”

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’ and offers nothing more. They’re going to die here.

Jeremy belatedly realizes this all is ridiculous, but this is never a surprise. He'd be more worried the day he and Michael sit down and do something sensible and serious. Jeremy says, "We should've brought somebody else with us. An adult."

"We are adults," Michael winces. Yeah, he knows. Terrifying concept.

"An adult-ier adult," Jeremy explains, before he backtracks and realizes that they know nobody who fits that criteria at all. "Or just anybody who'd be helpful. We should've brought Rich."

"That would be entertaining, but not helpful." Michael opens a nearby fridge for no apparent reason, seeing as he’s looking at Jeremy and not the fridge. "Though, he'd make a great backup singer for the Fridgehunters theme. Have you heard him beatbox?"

"I mean, I've heard him choke on milk, so close enough." Jeremy looks into the fridge. It's got some heavy compartment stuff going on in there. Advanced shit. Too advanced, so Jeremy closes the fridge.

"We could've brought PJ. She seems like she'd know how to...fridge."

"Wrong," Michael opens the fridge again. "You see what I'm doing here? The weird nervous opening and closing this fridge thing?"

"Yeah?"

"PJ would open every single fridge in this aisle. And she'd do it out of glee," he shuts the fridge for emphasis. "Face it, man. Nobody's got it together. Collectively, I figure we could like, Voltron our way into becoming a singular functional human, but individually?" Michael pulls open the fridge door with a flourish. "Nah."

Jeremy nods, until he feels a literal lightbulb go off in his head. "Jake."

"Oh, fuck. Yeah. Yeah, absolutely,” Michael takes Jeremy by the shoulders. “We should've brought Jake. God, we're idiots. Jake could buy a fridge. Jake looks like he could put together IKEA furniture correctly."

"He's been doing that thing with the Rubik's cube." Jeremy says, moving him and Michael to a different part of the aisle, one with simpler looking fridges, hopefully.

"What, solving it?"

"Yeah."

"Who the fuck actually solves it?"

"Jake. He caught me staring and explained, like, algorithms."

"Burn the witch." He hears Michael mutter as they walk. “Dude, is it just me or are these fridges like--”

“Needlessly complicated? Totally,” Jeremy says. Thankfully, it seems like the fridges are getting more and more reasonable. “Evie was a good, cold cube. Probably from eighties, but still straightforward.”

“No nonsense whatsoev---FUCK.” Michael yells directly in his ear.

“Agh, holy shit, what?” He whips his head to Michael. Michael who is pointing at a fridge like it committed a murder right in front of him, but when Jeremy sees it, he understand. “No way.”

“Yes way.” Michael smiles, walking over to open the fridge. “Jeremy,” he says. “Same fridge.”

“Same fridge,” he murmurs in disbelief, looking at a fridge that was pretty much exactly Evie sans the bit where he hopes it’ll work. What are the goddamn odds. “So like. Evangeline the second?”

“You read my mind, man,” Michael crouches down to look inside the fridge. “But uh. Evie the second who is also the P1 fridge. So P1 the second? Player one two? Twelve?”

Jeremy crouches down due to peer pressure caused by literally one person and shrugs, “Don’t make us do numbers, Michael.”

“Fair enough,” Michael nudges Jeremy and raises a fist. “The Fridgehunters have a fridge.”

He laughs, solemnly tapping his own to Michael’s before saying, “I mean, technically, we haven’t bought it yet.”

“You’re ruining the moment.”

“We probably need to go find somebody and---”

“The moment, Jeremiah.”

“Reality, Michaelmiah.”

They do end up finding an employee, or rather an employee finds Michael mid-tackle and they try to make themselves presentable in under three seconds, scrambling from the floor and standing up. Because they’re adults. Who are going to get this fridge right here.

We wanna get this fridge, Jeremy thinks. What Jeremy ends up saying to the employee, “Uh, fridge.”

To his left, he hears Michael do a terrible job at holding in laughter, and Jeremy jabs him in the side with his elbow.

Just another day in the life.

[magmawrites]

The Times They Remembered Pidge Was a Girl

Summary: The stuff you have to deal with while being a girl doesn't change just because you're up in space. At least you have four guys, five lions, and two aliens on your side.

One-Shot 1: Apparently Mother Nature Visits in Space 

(FF | | AO3) 

Pidge centric. Female pronouns for Pidge. Just an exploration of situations Pidge can find herself in. Family dynamics ftw. 

"You want what?" Hunk asked, staring at the youngest paladin with a quirked brow.

"You know, those smooth disk things you made that one time," Pidge said, flattening her hands together in a circular motion. "We used it to teleport-"

"I know what you're talking about," Hunk said, putting his hands on his hips. "But I didn't think you liked those cookies."

Pidge shuffled her feet nervously, pushing up her glasses with a finger. "Uh, well I don't exactly…" At Hunk's crestfallen expression the green paladin quickly shook her head, laughing nervously. "I mean- but I really want them now!"

Hunk didn't exactly believe her but he did catch her shoveling some of the green goop into her mouth late last night when he ventured into the kitchen for a midnight snack. He also remembered thinking whether or not it was actually midnight. Altean time measurements use 20 vargas in a day so technically it was ten at night?

Hunk rubbed his temple. Space math.

"Earth to Hunk," Pidge said, tip toeing to wave her hand in front of his face.

"Technically we're in space so I can't Earth," Hunk said, holding his chin in his hand. "Would it be space to Hunk?" "Hunk!" Pidge exclaimed, barely stopping herself from stomping her foot. "Focus! I'm starving."

"Now you know how I feel all the time," Hunk said happily.

Pidge narrowed her eyes, pouting. "I'm not throwing up though am I?"

"Harsh," Hunk said with a chuckle. "Maybe I shouldn't make you cookies. How about that?" The yellow paladin was surprised to see the eyes of the youngest member of the team go glassy as her lower lip trembled. Oh no. He made her cry. He was making Pidge cry. Holy crow- he's the worst friend to ever friend. "Uh…Pidge…are you going to-"

"No!" she exclaimed, ears heating up at the tip. "I'm just-" She groaned, frustrated. "I'll be in my room," she grumbled, storming out of the kitchen.

Hunk watched her go, confusion creeping its way into him. He heard someone greet her happily and Shiro ventured into the room a frown on his face.

"Hunk, did you make Pidge cry?" he asked, genuinely confused.

There was no malice in his tone, no anger hidden beneath the words and yet-

"Oh quiznak!" the large paladin blubbered and Shiro was left patting his back.

.

.

Pidge found stacks of cookies as tall as herself outside her door that night.

.

.

If there was one thing they all knew about Pidge was that she was strong. Not once did they falter in their belief or worry about her not being able to withstand any missions they set for her.

There was only one time Keith's confidence in that wavered and it was mostly because he was confused.

It wasn't often he found Pidge on the training deck. He liked to come there to clear his head and get a few rounds of practice in. He certainly didn't expect to find her sprawled on her side at the edge of the training room, face towards the wall. Now it wasn't odd to find the green paladin asleep in random places throughout the castleship. She often dozed off because she lost track of time tinkering with some new piece of technology she found. But seeing her here-

"Pidge!" Keith exclaimed, running towards her and sliding onto his knees. He placed a hand on her shoulder, rolling her to her back. "Are you hurt?" He immediately thought about the time the training system malfunctioned and how dangerous that ended up being. Maybe Pidge picked one level too high-

"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. She had her hands wrapped around her abdomen and she rolled back onto her side, hiding her face from him.

"Do you want me to get Coran?" Keith prodded. "He can put you in the healing pod-"

"I'm fine," she repeated adamantly. "Just go on and train. I'll be here."

"In the corner." Keith stated pointedly.

"Yes."

Keith stood hesitantly, eyeing her warily before making his way to the center of the room. Obviously he knew something was wrong but he didn't see any bruises or blood so he tried to shrug the concern away.

Unsuccessfully.

"Exercise is supposed to help," he heard her mutter about fifteen minutes into training.

"Help with what?"

Silence.

.

.

Pidge had to tell someone. Being sucked into space without any preparation all that time ago meant she was short on a couple necessities. Allura was really nice about it. She didn't quite understand because her Altean body was different than Pidge's own.

One little thing she wasn't expecting though- Coran overheard. The older man burst into the room exclaiming that if Number Five was in need of any assistance he would be there to help. He stared at her, bent at the hip, twirling his mustache.

"Please stop looking at me like that," Pidge said, leaning back.

"Like what?" the man asked. "Human bodies are quite similar to ours-"

"Allura can change her appearance-"

"Perhaps we can come up with an antidote to stop the bleeding," Coran continued, tapping a finger on his chin as he thought of all the different hormones and processes that need to be accounted for. "I may need to run some diagnoses-"

Pidge slumped into her seat. "Not what I meant."

.

.

When Shiro spotted a little bit of red on Pidge's shorts he got mad. They just finished fighting some hostile aliens and though everyone was bruised and aching he didn't know she had received any type of wound that pierced her skin.

Pidge was the first to change out of her suit. It had started to malfunction and because of some exposed wires he insisted she change as soon as possible. He'd rather not have their resident techy short circuit.

Pidge felt Shiro's eyes on her and turned to see his eyebrows knit together in anger, fists clenched around the helmet he held.

"Uh, are you okay Shiro?" she asked.

"Katie, which one of them hurt you?"

"What?" Pidge questioned, tilting her head. When Shiro used her real name she knew things were serious.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out.

Pidge glanced over her shoulder, grabbing the hem of her shorts before blushing bright red. "Oh that. That's nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?" Shiro asked. His voice was calm but she could sense a storm brewing inside of him. "I knew things were getting hectic and we had to fight outside of our lions but-" He pinched the bridge of his nose. None of it really made a difference but sometimes… He couldn't help it. He wouldn't let what happened to Matt happen to her. Sometimes he could forget just how young Pidge was. And small. Shiro's waist was practically as wide as her whole body.

"Shiro, relax." Pidge said. "Really it's nothing. And even if it was we've had worse injuries. Remember Lance?"

"Remember me what?"

Lance walked into the room, hands stuffed into his jacket.

"Shiro's freaking out over a little bit of bleeding." Pidge said with a shrug.

"Who's bleeding? Shiro I thought you could take a beating," Lance said, throwing fake punches into the air. "Champion and all-"

"Pidge is bleeding," Shiro said, stopping Lances fists in his hands.

Pidge rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go change."

That's when Lance noticed the red too.

"Oh," he mumbled. He looked at Shiro, a sly grin forming on his face. "Really? I was the last one to figure out she's a girl but really?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Shiro exclaimed. "Our fellow paladin was hurt. That's the only issue. She was paired with me. I should have helped more."

Lance snorted. "Believe me you can't really do much about this."

.

.

Lance was acting surprisingly nice to her.

That's not to say he wasn't nice. But he was just being extra…careful.

"So, I'm going to take a trip to the space mall," Lance said, crouching down beside the green paladin, blocking her view of her laptop. Now normally he wouldn't expect Pidge to be interested in coming shopping with him but he had an inkling this time would be different.

Pidge adjusted her glasses. "When're you going?"

"Now, want to come?" Lance said, standing and stretching. "I'm going to go weasel some money out of Coran first."

Pidge looked hesitant so Lance decided to draw her in with curiosity. "Hey, but if you do come I got rules this time. What I'm going to buy is top secret so I'll give you half of whatever money Coran gives me and you go buy whatever you want while I do my super secretive shopping, okay?"

There. Lance was proud of himself. Now she could go buy whatever things she needed for her monthly situation without feeling shy about it.

"You're so weird," Pidge said, straightening up. "I'll meet you in five."

When they arrived at the mall (in normal clothing and not as pirates) Lance handed Pidge a couple of space bills. "Hey, I lived with a lot of girls-"

"And yet every time you see one you start drooling," Pidge said, the corner of her lip turned upwards.

Lance shoved her shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment with you!"

"You ruined your moment with Keith," Pidge said, eyes twinkling. "Guess it's my turn."

Lance crossed her arms and grumbled under his breath before feeling a small hand on his sleeve. "Thank you," Pidge said, smiling sincerely.

"Yeah, whatever!" Lance called out as he watched her disappear into the crowd. "Not like I care what a little half pint like you gets yourself into!"

The next day Pidge stuck the sticky part of a new pad onto Lances back and he walked around the castleship and no one said a thing.

Authors Note:

I plan on adding a lot more situations Pidge can encounter. If you have any ideas feel free to share!

-Magma

[obviouslyelementary]

Rose, the queen - chapter 2

The anon asked, and the anon shall receive!

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Chapter II – The Loss

             “Victoria! Victoria! Vicky! God, you are going to kill me one day girl!” Steve yelled, running through the trees and smiling softly as he heard the girl’s soft laugh. He looked up at the branches of the trees, trying to find where that girl was, when she attacked him on the back. He fell on the ground with her over his back, giggling, and he groaned, turning around and throwing her to the side. “Vicky. You know that I’m getting too old for this type of game”

           “Not true. You’re still pretty much alive” the smart fourteen year old girl said, smiling widely at her uncle. She was already so grown up, with her long brown hair, black eyes, tan skin. She portrayed herself so differently now, with so much more strength in what and who she was. She was really growing up, his little Victoria. “Come on now! It’s almost time for the sparring lessons!”

             “Alright, alright, my child” he chuckled, standing up and starting to walk with her all the way back, this time through the main path. He watched as she contently checked every flower and small insect they walked by.

           “Is it true that fairies exist?” she asked, and he laughed, gently rubbing her shoulder.

           “Well sweetie, I have no idea” he said, smiling softly to his niece. “You should ask your mother. She loves to learn about magical creatures” he said, softly, and Victoria nodded, smiling at her uncle before both froze in place.

             A loud sound, like an explosion, not far away from where they were.

           “Enemies” Steve mumbled, looking down at Victoria, who was already taking her sword from the sheath before he raised his hand. “No. You’re not going over there. You will stay here and wait for me to return” he said, and she frowned deeply, shaking her head.

             “No! Are you crazy? If there is one out there, I want to help!” she said, loudly, but he simply stared at her, angrily, shaking his head.

             “No. You will stay here and wait for me, or your father or your mother to come over and get you” he said, and she just sighed, knowing he would probably enchant her to do what he said anyway. “Are we clear, young lady?”

             “Yes” she groaned, rolling her eyes and sitting down on the dirty. He nodded and then turned back to the noise’s direction before starting to walk to it, leaving the girl alone by herself. She sighed and watched him leave until he was too far away, and then looked down at her feet, bored and worried out of her mind. It was probably some dumb thieves trying to take advantage for their powers to steal some goods from people, but it didn’t mean she didn’t get worried sick. Especially when Steve was involved. After all, he was already old. He didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

             However, she didn’t have much time to get worried. Victoria looked up when she heard a weird sound and gasped, jumping to her feet. Coming from where Steve had gone, three men ran to her direction, wearing hoodies over their heads, two hold out swords and one with his hands free. A wizard. She squealed before turning around and running off through the forest as quickly as she could, staring back at every time she had an opportunity, afraid that they would get too close. She tried focusing on her powers, like her mother always said, because maybe they would help in that situation. When she thought she had got it, she raised her hand and waved it behind her body. Not effect.

             Victoria growled to herself before focusing on running again. They were getting closer and she was getting tired. Her heart beat fast, really quickly, and everywhere she looked she felt as if they could jump and grab her. She looked behind herself again and whimpered when she saw they were closing up to her now, and then...

             Then she hit something, and the world went black as she fell down on the ground.

              Philip groaned as he woke up, his head hurting. He tried opening his eyes, but everything was dark, and for some reason, he couldn’t move his hands or legs. He stopped for a second, trying to remember what had happened.

             He had left his village to start his training. Now sixteen years old, it was his turn to search for a wizard, kill them and eat their heart in front of Jeremy. He had left the village for three days only when he started to feel as if he was being watched. When he went looking for it, he found out that a few men in black clothes were following him. They had a dark aura around them, and right away he knew it was dark magic.

             Wonderful.

             Philip, then, started to run from them, hiding in caves, trees, villages. It didn’t seem to work, however, because he always saw them watching him, coming closer. For three days, he wasn’t able to stop running at all. In the last day, he entered an unknown forest and ran all the way through it, never stopping. Now, the men were coming closer, faster, and he knew there would be no way of escaping now. It was just a matter of time before they caught up to him, and he was too far away to try to contact his father or the village.

             He was done for. All he could do was fight. And so he did.

             And at the second he turned to defend himself and fight those men off with his daggers, someone hit him in the back and he fell right into a rock.

             And he passed out.

             And now there he was, in a dark room, with his hands and feet tied up, and with someone pressing against his back, breathing hard and trembling.

             Wait. Someone?

             “Hey” he muttered, and the person behind him tensed up. “Relax. It’s the guy behind you. Don’t worry” he added, and the person visibly relaxed a bit. “Do you know where we are?”

             “I don’t know” the person answered, and he stopped for a second. That was a child’s voice. A girl’s voice. He wasn’t expecting that at all. He recomposed himself. If it was a lady, he had to make sure he was secure of what was going on. His father had always taught him to treat women right.

             “It’s alright. Listen, I’ll need your help if you want to get out of here” he said, already forming a plan in his head. The girl relaxed a bit more and let out a soft, sweet chuckle.

             “You aren’t even going to ask my name?” she asked, and he frowned. That wasn’t exactly priority at the moment, but then again, it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. He opened his mouth to ask her, when a very bright light entered his eyes from a door in front of him and he groaned, closing his eyes tightly. She also whined, tensing up again and moving closer to his back. When he was finally able to open his eyes again, he saw two men standing in front of him.

             The first one was huge, strong, and fat, and kept smirking down at them. He had a long braided hair and a long beard, both as red as fire, his eyes were brown and dark and held extreme malice in them, and he dressed as a Viking, holding a huge stick with thorns of steel coming out of the top. The second was just as huge, but wasn’t fat, and had a very angry expression. His hair and beard were blond, dirty, and his eyes were the coldest blue Philip had ever seen. His clothes were also Viking, and he held a flail with a short shaft and a spike ball both made of iron. Both looked older than twenty, but Philip couldn’t really know if they were humans, wizards or killers, and that scared him more than the menacing looks on their faces.

             “Good morning kids” the fat laughed, waving his stick around and walking where both Philip and the girl behind him could see him. “I hope you two have slept well. You have a big day today”

             “Chief said we are not supposed to play around with the King’s prisoners” the other man said, before walking up to Philip and the girl and pulling them up, as if they had the weight of a piece of wood. Then, he cut the rope that tied them together, and nodded to the fat man, who nodded. The blond held Philip’s legs and picked him up like a bag of potatoes, making the boy growl and squirm around angrily.

             “Put me down! You don’t know whom you are messing with!” he yelled, squirming even more while the man simply carried him away. In front of Philip, he saw the fat man carrying the girl, who was also squirming, telling the man to let her go. None of that served either of them very well, and they only stopped being carried when they were thrown on the cold, hard ground. Philip squirmed around, being able to sit up with a lot of difficulties, only to look up and see a man dressed in king’s clothes, eating an apple while watching them. Philip growled deeply, showing off his teeth, almost like an animal in the wilderness. The king simply smirked, amused, and chuckled, before throwing the apple away and standing.

             He was elegant, Philip had to admit it. He wore a golden crown, filled with different types of precious stones. He had a huge mantle over his shoulders, white inside, red outside, with white fur all around. His fingers were filled with different types of rings. His hair was black, almost blue, just like his eyes. His skin was pale, showing all the veins, and he was thin, but not weak the slightest. He also looked very young, with no beard, and malice in his eyes and smile.

             About the king, Philip was certain: he was a wizard.

             “My children” the man started, but Philip wasn’t having any of it.

             “Let us go!” he said firmly, loudly, his eyes wide, burning in rage. The king seemed a bit surprised with his outburst, but quickly laughed it out and walked down the steps where the throne was, kneeling in front of Philip.

             “My child. Please, be calm” he said, slowly, placing his hand over Philip’s cheek. He growled, turning his head and almost biting the king’s finger. The king was quick to pull his hand away, but he still looked amused. “Well, you surely are a small, violent animal, aren’t you?”

             “Let. Us. Go” he growled out, tugging on the ropes that held his ankles and wrists tied together. The king chuckled again and moved away, standing a few feet away from them.

           “My name is King Christian, and I brought you two here for a reason” he said, and Philip tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “For you see, I suffer from a rare disease and I cannot have heirs. Therefor, I have been watching the children from every kingdom close by for longer than twenty years. And yes, I do know I look fairly young, but this is a part from my curse: I can’t grow old unless I find an heir to my kingdom. And that is what you two are here for. You are my newest additions. Don’t worry, you will be very happy here. We have children of every age living with us, who are training to be the next ruler of this kingdom” he explained, but Philip didn’t want to hear it.

             “I don’t care about you or your kingdom or your curse. Let us go” he repeated, slowly, angrily, and Christian chuckled before shaking his head.

             “Oh, I wish you weren’t so reluctant” he said, before smirking widely, in an evil way that made Philip’s body shiver. “I’m sorry for this, my child, but you need to learn to respect me at all costs”

             Suddenly, he felt as if every single bone inside his body was breaking, and he yelled, he screamed louder than he had ever before. Then, his skin was catching on fire and he fell to the ground, squirming and twisting and turning and yelling, desperately, trying to make the pain stop, trying to find any kind of relief, while tears and screams came out of his eyes and mouth.

              “Stop! Stop it!” Victoria yelled as the boy next to her twisted and turned in obvious pain. She had her eyes wide, and her whole body was trembling out of fear and empathy. “Please stop it! He won’t talk back anymore!”

             “You are a good girl” Christian came into a conclusion, and suddenly the boy stopped yelling, passing out on the ground. She whimpered in relief and turned to the king, who was quietly staring at her. “Well, you are in charge of controlling him from now on, child. Take both of them to their new bedroom and leave them there until dinner time” he said, and the guards nodded, making Victoria curl up around herself. That same fat man picked her up while the other picked the boy up, and they were slowly taken to a hallway filled with wooden doors. By the end of the hall, the guards opened one of the doors and threw both of them inside, untying their wrists and then walking out, locking the room behind themselves.

             Victoria crawled quickly to the boy in front of her and turned him around, back down, chest up. She took a good look at him, making sure he wasn’t hurt, before actually looking at him - and he was beautiful. She had already seen his eyes, even if now they were closed. They were honey colored, his hair was brown with a few blonds and a few blacks, his skin was olive colored, and he hadn’t been through all the transformations he should in his teenager years. For a fourteen year old girl like herself, he was one of the most beautiful boys she had ever met or seen.

             But that wasn’t time to think about boys. It was time to think about a plan to escape that place.

             She had to find her mother.

              A curse, as the old ones would say, does not simply come by the hatred that someone feels for you. No, you have to earn it.

             Every wizard can curse, but the most powerful ones come from the wizards that are familiar with dark magic. The dark magic curses are usually stronger and tend to last longer than light magic curses, sometimes even being completely irreversible.

             King Christian’s case was reversible, but at a high price. Most humans and wizards made everything to be able to live forever, but after living hundreds of years and watching every loved one die, not even someone as egoistic and narcissistic as him could want to stay alive anymore.

             And yet, he did not want to leave everything he had conquered to anyone. Therefor, he had been training and adopting kids from various ages to finally find one worth his throne.

             And while he chose, fathers and mothers searched mindlessly for their lost children.

              “Steve! Steve!” Rose yelled, running to the old guard desperately, her eyes wide. “I can’t find Victoria anywhere!”

             “Damn that girl! I told her to stay in the forest!” he yelled over the explosions and war screams. With one of his hands, he produced a ball of fire and sent it in the direction of a few enemies before turning to Rose, holding her hands. “Find Alice and Leonard and meet me in the castle. We will search for her as soon as we are sure King Mathew is safe”

             “King Mathew is gone” they heard, turning around to see Alice and Leonard running to them. The latter had a huge cut from his forehead to his cheek, and a few bruises on his face, the only place not covered by his armor. Rose put her hands over her in a silent scream, while Steve frowned deeply. “I saw it. I was there, fighting next to the guards. They killed him”

             “Then, we have to run” Steve said firmly, and looked at Rose. “Let’s go to the forest. If she stayed there, we will find her. If she didn’t... She must have hidden away” he said, not wanting to think the worst. Rose nodded, shakily, before walking to Leonard and placing her hand over his scar. He sighed, defeated. He hated when she did that. The scar disappeared from his face and reappeared in hers before it slowly cured itself.

             “Lets go” she repeated, taking his hand and running to the forest close to their house, being followed by Steve and Alice. Quickly, they arrived where Steve had let the girl and looked around, finding a few footprints on the ground. Without hesitation, Leonard rushed off, following the marks inside the forest. Weirdly enough, the marks showed that Victoria had been running, but there were no other footprint that showed what she had been running from.

             “Maybe it was a bird of some kind. One of those you were studying. It scared her and she ran away” Alice tried, following the three close by, looking around at every second possible. She hated the woods. They were narrow and dark and gave her the feeling of being trapped. Rose shook her head at her comment.

             “No. Victoria loves animals. It would have to be a very ugly and evil bird to scare her like this, and there are none of these types of birds in these areas” she explained, and Steve nodded.

             “I agree. She might as well be running from enchantments” he said, and Alice’s eyes widened.      

             “You mean... Wizards? Killers?” she asked, and Rose sent her a look. “What? I know you don’t believe it, but I’ve heard several times that there are killers everywhere in this forest. And evil wizards and witches are not uncommon” she continued, and Rose sighed quietly.

             “I know... But it won’t be anything. She will be fine” she mumbled, and then stopped, because Leonard had stopped and was now looking around the region.

             “The footprints stop here... But there are more following that direction” he said, showing another footprint, way bigger than Victoria’s. “Should we go over there and search for her?” he asked, and Rose nodded quickly, not having to be asked twice.

             “Yes. We need to find my daughter”

              “Jeremy?”

             “Yes, Tony?”

             Anthony took a deep breath, walking inside his chief’s room and sitting on a chair next to him. The man smiled, slowly cleaning his sword with a wet cloth. It had been three days since Philip had left and there was no sign of him yet.

             “Do you think it’s normal for a boy his age to take so long to find a wizard?” he asked, quietly, and Jeremy chuckled, rolling his eyes as he cleaned one more time the sword’s left side.

             “Please, Tony, son. You took two weeks and you were a royal guard” he said, and Anthony sighed. “He will be back in three days, You’ll see”

             “Jeremy! Sir!” John yelled, coming inside quickly and taking a deep breath. Jeremy and Anthony looked at him confused. “Sir! We are being attacked! By an army of wizards and humans!” he said, and both Anthony and Jeremy stood up quickly, rushing out of the room as fast as they could. Both of them were holding their swords, and while Jeremy used his powers to freeze his blade, Anthony used his powers to sharpen the blade even further. When they got out, some of the villagers were dead, and the other army was huge, with at least three hundred men against the village, that had one hundred.

             “If we fight, we will lose” Anthony said, and Jeremy nodded, letting go of his blade and closing his eyes. With all the focus he had, he raised from the water on the ground a huge wall of ice between them and the enemy.

             “Whoever is left, retreat!” he yelled, and all the warriors that were close to the ice barrier ran back to where Jeremy and Anthony were. The latter looked around, checking if there weren’t any people left, before he ran after the others, forest within. One of the shapeshifters became a bird and went flying over the threes, trying to find somewhere safe. When he found a cave, he returned to the group and sang, showing the path through the trees. The group followed him as quickly as possible, reaching a cave and entering it. The ones with telekinesis use their powers to move a few rocks in front of the cave while the others checked to see if the cave was in fact safe.

             “Jeremy” Anthony called again, and the man turned to him again, frowning softly. “After the army pass by, I’ll go out there look for Philip” he said, and the leader seemed to hesitate a bit, furrowing his eyebrows.

             “Are you sure that’s safe, Tony?” he asked, tilting his head. “Take some of my men with you. You’ll need it” he said, but Anthony just shook his head, giving the man a smirk.

             “You think I can’t do this on my own? Relax. I’ll be fine” he said, and Jeremy chuckled, nodding and giving him some taps on the back.

             “Go find your boy, my son. And only return when you have him, alright? I already miss him too much” he said, and Anthony smiled, nodding and looking around. He could hear the army coming closer. As soon as they were gone, he would run off and search for Philip.

             He had to find his son.

[bigmountaincat]

84. Rumble

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS SCENE TAKES PLACE IN AN ACTIVE WAR ZONE.

As part of the way I respond to these prompts, I kind of just go with where my brain takes me, and that’s where this one took me. Sorry, Anon, if this is not what you were looking for, but fair warning to everyone. Click below the break to check the story out.

I didn’t expect to make it through the night. When the sirens started blaring, we all ran for cover, like we’d practiced. But for some reason, the adults told us we couldn’t go to the bunkers. They just kept saying that we couldn’t go there, that it wasn’t safe anymore. 

So we were huddled in our house, waiting for it all to end. We’d had raids before. There were a lot of lost houses, but usually people were alright. This time, though…

Since we weren’t in the bunkers, we didn’t know. The explosions and screaming had been going on for some time. I was fairly certain that our neighbor’s house was gone; there had been a larger boom, closer than any we’d heard before, and most of the pictures hanging on the walls had fallen down.

As we huddled together through the night, some of my family members started to nod off to sleep. How they could sleep through an air raid, I’ll never know. I guess for the older ones, they’d gotten so used to this it hardly effected them anymore. For us younger folk, though, we were grasping onto each other so tightly we started losing feeling in our arms. 

After a few hours of this, the sounds of screaming and explosions started to die down, but there was another sound that seemed to be hovering over the city. The more I listened for it, the louder it seemed to grow. It was a slow, low-pitched pounding that permeated the noises of the destruction around us. It grew so loud that I realized it, like the explosions before, was shaking the walls and causing smaller furniture to slide around.

As it grew louder, the adults started to grow restless, rousing from their sleep and chattering amongst themselves as to what was going on. One of the other children whispered to me in a frightened voice, “Doesn’t that sound like footsteps?”

Just as they said that, the booming seemed to come to a stop, as a final, powerful rumbling shook the house at it’s foundations. A loud voice, almost impossibly so, spoke on the other side of our walls. It could’ve been spoken from a helicopter’s megaphone, but it didn’t have the weird robot-like quality to it. “I’m in position. You’re sure this is where it’s coming down?” A pause. “Understood. Holding position.”

All of the adults looked rattled, and the kids did too. But this didn’t seem right to me. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but by this point I was pretty certain I wasn’t any safer inside the house than I would be outside of it.

I ran for the door, ignoring the frantic calls of my mother from behind me. No one came after me, and I made it outside without anyone stopping me. As I reached the streets, I looked around, trying to make sense of what was going on. Sure enough, my neighbor’s house was gone. And standing in it’s place was….

Something impossible. Something that couldn’t be real. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head, trying to convince myself that I was just imaging things. But it was still there, even 20 seconds later. A girl, maybe my age, or perhaps a bit older, stood above the rubble. Her short-cropped orange hair stood up well above the rooftop of our own house, stretching what had to have been 40 feet towards the sky. She wore the uniform of our nation’s army, though the material seemed different in make. She could have been any of us children, save for her ridiculous size.

She was looking towards the sky, scanning the area above our neighborhood for… something. I must have made a noise, because suddenly her attention snapped in my direction, her hands up in a defensive posture. I took a step back, surprised by suddenly finding myself looking into the eyes of a physical impossibility. Once she saw who I was, however, her body language changed. Instantly she lowered her guard, and her features took on a reluctant smile. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Wh….who are you?” I managed. It seemed such an irrelevant question given the situation, but it was all my sunned brain could manage.

“Emilie. My name is Emilie.” Her smile faded as she seemed to be listening to something. “Understood. I’ll take care of it.” Then she looked towards the sky. I heard what sounded like a faint whistling noise begin to grow louder. She turned back towards me. “Listen, um…”

“Noah,” I supplied.

“Right, Noah.” She turned her eyes back towards the sky. “I need you to run away from here as quick as you can, okay?”

I couldn’t tell what she was planning to do, but she bent her knees like she was bracing for something. Considering she was in the military (or so it seemed), I really should’ve listened to her. And considering her monstrous size, I definitely had to have been out of my mind to disobey that kind of instruction. “But my family’s still inside!” my voice responded, defying my brain’s very real want to just do as she’d said.

She looked at me, surprise in her eyes. “You all weren’t evacuated?!” Her voice was very alarmed, and carried out loudly over the wasteland that was once my neighborhood. I crammed my hands over my ears to shield from the extra power of her voice, but looked back at her and shook my head.

“Alright.” She took a couple of sliding steps towards me, suddenly looming up above me and my house. One of her feet blocked the door back inside, and the other sat a good 15 feet away from me on the other side. Looking up, I noticed her bracing herself again. All the while, the whistling noise had grown louder, mimicking what I assumed had to have been Emilie’s approach a few moments earlier. I knew it had to be close. “I need you to crouch down and cover your ears, Noah. This is going to be loud.”

I did as she said, dropping back on my heels and cramming my hands over my ears once more. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, and stared up at her as she lifted her arms above her head. I saw the tiniest of sparks just above her outstretched palms before the sound of an explosion went off.

The bright light that erupted seemed to almost immediately be snuffed. No heat shot downwards, and no fire or light reached me down on the ground. Though I had some difficulty seeing exactly what was happening, it looked as if Emilie was somehow absorbing the blast! I could hear her grunting with the effort over the sound of the explosion. As her grunts turned into stifled screams, I noticed her feat on either side of me. I turned my attention to them and realized that they seemed to be pulling away from me. And…

They were getting bigger.

The road beneath her cracked as her two feet increased in size. I looked up and noticed that the rest of her was stretching further upwards, even farther away then they had been before. As she zoomed upwards, she somehow managed to avoid damaging any of the structures around her. For 30 whole seconds, she stood there, rising up to absorb and remove the threat of the bomb. Her silhouette rose into the sky against the flare of light, a massive guardian of the family beneath her.

And then, suddenly, the noise stopped. I unclamped my hands from their positions on either side of my head and looked around. Though the road was worse for wear, my house was still standing. And Emilie…

I looked up at her and wondered how I could have been surprised by her size before. Were it not for the illumination of the fires and other explosions elsewhere in the city, I wouldn’t have been able to see her face. I couldn’t tell how much bigger she had gotten, but she was absolutely massive now. While her feet had before been about the size of a small car, each now stretched as long as a large moving truck. She had to have been at least three times the size she was when I first saw her.

She took a step to move her foot away from the front door of my house, then turned around carefully, avoiding the debris surrounding her. Each step shook the ground like a small earthquake, and dug deep craters into the ground. She squatted down and brought her face closer to me. I could see now an expression of sincere concern on her face. I could also see a good deal of blood dripping down the side of her face, and various burns and singe marks lined her features. 

“Are you alright, Noah?” she asked softly. I could tell she was trying to keep her voice low, but it still filled the air with hot breath and forced me onto my rear. I looked up at her, searching her massive eyes for any sign of malice or intent to harm….

And found none.

That was the day I fell in love with The Atomic Woman.