#like yeah when he was six he witnessed a man in the neighbourhood killing his daughter... and the next answer is like OH I LOVE DOGS :(

[prlssprfctn]

The first time, Tim notices someone observing them from afar, it is when they are all settled for a brief dinner together. It is the middle of the week, and Bruce gathered all of them together to... relax. Which is strange but not unwelcome. Everyone is so involved in chattering and bantering that they don't notice a lingering gaze through the window; they don't, but Tim does.

It takes him a few seconds to figure out that it is Jason.

He is not sure if Bruce reached for him to invite, and Jason just declined, or there was no offer to begin with, but Tim knows for sure Jason lurkes behind windows for a few minutes before disappearing in the night.

And the funniest thing? Tim understands him.

He thinks he is not Jason's replacement — never truly was, despite what the other thought — but in a way, they did swap their places. Because in the past, it was Tim, who hid on the rooftops, staring at Bruce and his family, listening to the snippets of their conversations. And now it is Jason.

It is still different, of course. Tim had a choice, and it was his... enthusiastic project, if anything — Jason doesn't really. But if anyone understands the feeling of standing far away from everyone, it is still Tim.

That's why the next time in happens, Tim reaches out.

It is after the particularly easy mission, when Tim spots the red motion on the rooftop. He slips away from Nightwing and Robin, who debate about something with Batman through the comms, and finds himself standing behind Red Hood.

The way Red Hood taps his fingertips on the balustrade makes Tim remember that he is not included in their comms anymore. He wonders how lonely it is, to hear the voices of his brothers, but never being able to grasp the whole conversation they have.

'Hood,' he calls for him.

To Jason's credit, he doesn't scramble in panic, even if it seems that he is surprised by his appearance.

'Red,' he mutters back, instantly defensive. 'What, came to mock me?'

Tim rolls his eyes; he wishes things would be easier with Jason, but they are not, and he can't really blame him for that.

'Had I ever mocked you?' He copies his stance, arms folding in the chest. When Jason tilts his head, almost asking, "Really now?" Tim rolls his eyes again. 'Okay, I did a few times. But it mostly were jokes about your death.'

Jason chuckles.

'Good one, punk. It changes everything.'

'You like jokes about your death,' Tim protests. 'And I know you allow Arsenal to joke about it, so it is not entirely closed topic.'

'I don't remember allowing you to joke about it, though.'

...

This conversation is so fucking stupid. Tim didn't even came here for this, but-

But fine. He still can win.

'So, you only allow it to your friends. Fine. Let's be friends,' Jason chokes on his own exhausted sigh. 'Do you need some friendship questionnaires to fill to be my friend? I can arrange that.'

Jason kindly flips him off under his breath before disappearing in the night, leaving him alone with whining Nightwing and irritated Bruce in his ear.

The next time he stalks down Jason, who in turn is stalking Damian and Bruce, he shoves in his hand twenty three papers filled with bunch of friendship questions — half stripped from internet, half made by Tim that involve the specifics of their jobs.

He doesn't expect anything to come after it, but in two weeks after Jason returns to the city after his mission with Outlaws, Tim finds these papers filled with surprisingly neat, calligraphic answers.

And he gets the printed copy of the same questions, with one page of an additional one, written in the same handwriting, and with a little sticky note atop of it.

Your turn, Timbo.

Tim smirks.

Oh, he will so drag Jason back in the family, somehow.

[ash-etherwood]

Top 5: writing memories, songs, characters that are not blank rune, runes, food

♡

Linda I love you but are you trying to kill me … that’s so many Top 5’s! But alright, I’ll do my best! (Answers will probably switch between German and English RIP to every non-German-speaker who follows me and wants to read this for some reason I swear I’m normal)

WRITING MEMORIES

5.) The entire time I spent finishing my first (second?) longer writing project It was the year 2012 and it was a cyberpunk story about my friends’ and my edgy self inserts riding dinosaurs, fighting aliens and being badass. The plot twist in the end was that my character was secretly evil and wanted to kill everyone. (Things to show your therapist) The final boss fight made zero sense and also everything was incredibly weird and stupid. But sometimes I still think about those times when I sat in my grandma’s living room at night, eating chips and listening to Vocaloid covers while thinking this story was the coolest shit ever. Truly simpler times.

4.) Researching something about universities in Texas for OvF on a rainy Saturday afternoon I have no idea why this memory is still sticking with me to this day (I think it was around 2016 or something?), but I remember that it was just a really nice day and I felt really at peace at that moment?

3.) The entire writing process of Bathroom Blues It was such a spontaneous project and I still have no idea how I managed to power though it in just a little under two months! Also it was just incredibly fun seeing you getting excited over new drafts and I loved coming up with new plot points and Halloween costumes for everyone with you. :-D Truly a summer worth remembering.

2.) FINALLY uploading the prologue and intro chapter of WWBL Not really a writing memory, but that moment was … so sexy and magical. Seriously, you have no idea how long I had been waiting to finally start that story, waiting for the Steckbriefe to roll in and see people react to the prologue and generally the idea … I even made one of those countdown graphic thingies for the designated upload date! 8D At that point I had planned that story for about six months and just … yeah, that felt powerful to me.

1.) Writing the prologue for WWBL When I first started the draft for that prologue I was sitting at the window in my favourite hotel in Winterberg, Sauerland, wore my dark green flannel, had the window wide open breathing in the cool mountain air and allowed myself to listen to my WWBL playlist for the very first time. God, that felt so amazing. I even have a photo of it (which somehow makes it look like I have the biggest football shoulders in the universe) my sister took that night. God I miss Sauerland. )’:

- - - - -

SONGS

My apologies to every favourite song of mine that I forgot about, I have a whole playlist of them, but I think these are some of my oldest faves … (Honorable mentions for Don’t Mess With Me and Not That Big by Temposhark, Goodbye by Apparat, Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin, Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers, Pain and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Beautiful Crime by Tamer, Gravity Of Love by Enigma, In Flames by Digital Daggers [thanks Phi u_u] and Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts AHHH FUCK IT I could’ve just made a playlist,,,)

5.) Vater Unser by E Nomine Starting off with some weird shit, won’t we? I’ve been in love with this song since fifth or sixth grade, when I was just starting to develop an actual music taste and although I have many favourite songs by E Nomine, this one has to be my absolute fave. Every time I can relate it to a character it makes me love said character even more. (Also I think about it every time my mom forces me to go to church for Christmas so … yay? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember the Vater Unser if it wasn’t for this song. 8D)

4.) Wires by The Neighbourhood I think this is the newest all-time fave on this list, I found it in … 2015? Thank you, Youtube AMVs. Yeah man, this one is just … on so many playlists it’s not even funny anymore.

3.) Heathens by Twenty One Pilots An edgelord classic but like … it’s on EVERY playlist of mine. Every single one. It’s just so good. The first time I heard it was on the radio tho, when I was having breakfast with Jessie and I forced her to shazam it because it immediately stuck with me,,,

2.) Imaginary by Evanescence My first Evanescence song ever and the first step towards becoming who I am today I think. This song has like … such a big history for me, man. It single-handedly turned me goth in 2008 and I have never really thanked it for that.

1.) Eternal by Evanescence Might be my favourite song of all time. The number of dramatic RP scenes I have written with this in the background … man. Oh, also this song is the reason for one of my oldest internet nicknames, ‘eternala’, which subsequently shortened into Etschuh and then Tschuh, my main nickname until 2017, when I came out as trans and finally found an actual name for myself I was comfortable with!

- - - - -

NON BLANK RUNE CHARACTERS

I know this was probably supposed to be about fandom characters but I can literally not come up with a single character right now that I love with a special burning passion and that is not my or one of my friends’ OCs so you’re getting OCs now. u_u And boy do I have a lot of those.

5.) Jackson Tracey from atroCITY (mine) This little piece of shit kept me company for a pretty long time and is still very close to my heart for some reason, although I haven’t drawn him or really thought about him in detail for a while now. My favourite thing is how I only realized what a horrible person he was after I stopped regularly working with him but honestly good for me. 8D His storyline and personality is kinda convoluted and tbh I’m not really sure how much of it is canon anyway (atrc was always a little weird about canon rip) but yeah. He’s an obsessive stalker piece of shit who pities himself way too much and he is also a semi-immortal demigod who likes knives. I hate him but he also helped me a lot with some gender and sexuality stuff so thanks I guess.

4.) Mayoko Imai from Century Riders DXPrototype (Maus’ and mine) Mayoko is a magical girl protagonist with a cool cyborg arm prosthetic and her main character trait was that she was basically a reverse weeaboo, a Japanese girl who was obsessed with American media, culture and comic book heroes! I actually love her concept a lot and she also had a pretty cool character arc in her story (which Maus and I wrote together and actually finished btw!), although it could use a lot more … polishing from today’s point of view. But I love her anyway. She always wanted to do the right thing and be a hero and got broken pretty cruelly and her ending is kinda bittersweet I guess? Ahh there’s just so much nuance to it … anyways, CR3 also stuck with me for a very long time and I enjoyed the time with her a lot. :3 (Her name had a cameo in Another Incident btw heehee)

3.) Tessa *insert extremely long chain of unnecessary first names here* von Lean from Nobody Is Perfect and Infernal Temptation (belongs to one of my old school friends) Tessa is just … a hand full. I love to hate her. She is badly written and developed and just OOZES mentally ill teenage girl’s idealized self-insert power fantasy, but she just … man, she was a big part of one of my most drama-filled high school friendships which I love looking back at so much. Tessa has fucked so many of my characters … good for her tbh! There are actually two versions of her, one is just a ‘normal’ teenage girl and one can shapeshift into a cheetah, but both of them are very close to my heart. I should really adopt and redesign her some day.

2.) Judy Khayat from Original vs. Final (mine) Look, I love all my OvF-characters and every single one of them is special to me in their own way, but Judy is just … the most complex of them all I think? Man, she went through so much … she is actually one of my oldest (semi)-active characters (I created her in 2009) and her latest version is from 2016 but I should really, REALLY revise her again tbh. She has a very complicated backstory that I didn’t handle as carefully as I should have, and anger issues and religious conflict and depression and PTSD and then Vance of all people becomes obsessed with her for no reason and decides to traumatize her even more … yeah. God I really love her but I seriously need to work on her. A LOT. I should also finally rename her tbh … let’s just see where she takes me next.

1.) Okami (I don’t even remember if she has a proper last name rn lol) from Split Realm (mine) Yeah, that bitch is just my favourite OC. She’s also very old, probably from around 2009, and initially was a magical girl with fire powers who I played in an RP with my friend Flauch but boy did she grow up! Holy fuck. Okami is a horrible person but I love her so much. She is so violent and full of anger and pain and sadness and treats everyone around her like shit and she is in love and she is a demon but also apparently the personification of the concept of Chaos but she just wants to be a teenager again and run away with the love of her life and ahhh it’s all so hopeless for her … also she turned out gnc af with time passing and pretty much went through a gender/sexuality crisis in real time with me, her creator, which is always fun. :^D I haven’t drawn her in a while tbh. Should really do that.

- - - - -

RUNES IN BLANK RUNE

I’m just gonna go with the arcs here, okay? Also this entire answer might look completely different if you asked me again tomorrow, you know how indecisive I am with Blank Rune shit ahha,,,

5.) Jera Look. I know I’m boring and stupid. But I just love Tave and Liam having their disgusting little foreshadowing talk, okay? I can read it over and over. I just love my horrible little shit crime boys. Also Rhy and Phillip are there. (’:

4.) Isa This one is here because it was the first arc I witnessed in real time which gives it a very special place in my heart and it also … hit pretty hard at the time. But having read Fehu it’s become even better now! It’s just such a wonderful, tragic romance between two horrible, ruthless boys and I … I’m not immune to Rhy, sadly. :-/ Just like Phillip.

3.) Wunjo We still haven’t seen everything that leads up to Wunjo yet, but we DO know more than we did initially (wow shocker) and it’s just always a fucking blast. Also, it has the first mention of Ash’s real name … the first Rhy POV (which what the fuck!! I always feel like we had one before but we didn’t!! Wild) and it has crazy blood-soaked murder Tave, my beloved. :///3

2.) Eiwaz You guys have heard me fanboy about Eiwaz so many times already. Eiwaz-OT3 (and Kain) my beloved!!! It’s just SUCH an amazing starting point and there are so, so many things that tie back to it and every time we find out about a new one my heart makes a little jump … und es beginnt von Neuem indeed.

1.) Gebo One of the most painful but also the most beautiful arcs yet in my opinion. It’s been hyped up for so long and boy did it deliver. God, my heart still hurts when I think about that last scene. Also all the dialogue … the golden lines we got … and it’s an arc without Rhy! Crazy!! :-D I just love the relationship between Ash, Astrid and Jakob so much. God fuck I want what they have. Just maybe without the murder suicide,,,

- - - - -

FOOD

5.) Diese Sonntagsbrötchen wo die Verpackung so plopp macht, wenn man die Folie abzieht Better than normale Brötchen for some reason. Most of the time. See 2.) Look man, I just really love a good breakfast …

4.) Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese topping One of the first things from a certain baking book I tried when I was getting into baking back in 2019. God they are so tasty. I don’t make them often so I don’t get used to them too much and eating them still feels special but ahhhh I love them so much!

3.) Grünkohl mit Kartoffelbrei und Mettendchen One of my favourite things about autumn/winter and one of my biggest comfort foods. God I love this shit so much. I just put … mountains of Grünkohl and Kartoffelbrei on my plate every time and I will just warm it up for four days straight until there’s no more left. It turns me into a fucking caveman. I’m not even big on eating meat but … yeah. Everything is different when there’s Grünkohl.

2.) Normales Brötchen mit Butter und Scheibenkäse aber ich bin beim Frühstücksbuffet im Hotel Oddly specific but that’s just how it is. Sorry. Nichts geht über Brötchen mit Käse.

1.) Chilli-Knoblauch-Nudelauflauf My beloved. My comfort food. I eat it literally every second day. At least one hour in the kitchen every time. Fresh ingredients. My only vegetable intake. And I’ve been doing that for three years. I just love it so much, man. I cook it for everyone who visits me. Chilli-Knoblauch-Auflauf cured my depression.

[dracula-in-purple-story]

Trick and Treat

The benefits of being underground heroes means no one would recognise you. A fact that three certain heroes (plus a sentient quirk) exploit it mercilessly. 

Halloween. An event where people of all kinds get to excuse themselves for pranks and indulged themselves with tooth-rotting candy. It’s also a certain event where two gothic-theme heroes are free to cursed their mothers for bringing them to life far too soon or far too late.

“That’s not a reason to cursed my in-laws, Fumi, Shi.” Shoji Mezou huffed before turning two of his appendages to mouths as to pecked his gloomy husbands. Shoji-Tokoyami Fumikage, who draped himself with a dark cloak and held a handmade scythe, fumed pettily alongside with Shoji-Kuroiro Shihai, who decided to wrapped themselves an equally as black bandages.

“Mezou love, I didn’t agree to marry you to hear you stand in defence for our mothers who let us down for the first time in the beginning of our lives.”

“Fumi’s right in a way. If only they could at least put in more effort on giving birth before the sacred event had ended-”

“Or wait a bit more longer-”

“Okay, guys. I kinda didn’t agree to waste my day off on listening to your brooding. So, could we get moving?” Ojiro Tooru wiggled around in her plain-white cloth while exaggerated her frustration, earning some laughs among her husbands.

“Take care and have fun, Ruru,” Mashirao softly spoke as he setting up the makeshift pillow fort around Hitoshi. The Ojiro husbands decided to spend their rare day off to watch horror marathon with the main Shoji patriarch. 

The invisible lady just giggled before dragging off the other Shoji husbands for their play dates. Mezou waved them off, even blew the sentient quirk a kiss back, before settling down besides the pillow fort. 

“Five thousand yens they come back with more candies than they are allow to have.”

“Six thousand.”

“Bet.”

“Toshi! Mezou!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Any gummy packets? All I got is candy corns.” the boy with four arms and dressed as Red Riot grimaced.

“Nope, I only got two packets of strawberry marshmallows and some Miruko-branded carrot candies, Red Riot Junior. What about you, Deku Junior?” the green-skinned girl dressed as Shemage quietly answered before glancing at the bulking boy with scales that dressed as the Symbol of Hope.

He smirked before lifting up his bucket, making the other kids jaw dropped. In there, three huge packets of Bakusquad-branded fruity gummies, five king-sized Fatgum-branded chocolate bars, two swirly red and white lollipops, and a box of bite-sized candy bars themed after Pre-Debut UA Class A.

“Impressive, huh?”

“No jokes, Ken- I mean, Deku Junior! How?!” the Red Riot ‘Junior’ tried to reach out before getting his hand slapped by the now-sneering boy.

“Don’t touch it! Anyways, I just roamed around the neighbourhood that filled with old farts who got too much money to spend. One glance at my mega awesome costume then they throwing me prizes after prizes!” The scaly boy exclaimed proudly as he showed off his goods, “Wish you have this amazing influence than some two-bits characters you two decided to dressed as!”

“You got some nerves insulting the chivalrous hero and the mushroom heroine, kid.” All three kids quickly turned towards the voice down the alley. Seeing that it’s someone who decided that draping a white blanket is a good enough costume, the boy scoffed rudely.

“What, blanket girlie, you think you have the rights to tell me off when you have a lame ass costume?” “Wrong, it’s an awesome costume!” the blanket girlie huffed out her chest proudly, “You just didn’t see what is under these ghost sheets.”

“Ghost sheets?” the green girl snickered, “Yeah, right.”

“Why don’t we check it out, eh?” the four-arms boy grinned at the Deku cosplayer, who smirked back as he reached out to pull the sheets. As he did so, the kids paled. There is... nothing under the sheet. Not even the girl who is supposed to be draped over. 

Suddenly, eerie radio screeches can be heard behind the ghost(?). Two little lights are flashing red at where the head are supposed to be located. The lackeys, scared out of their wits, dropped their buckets as they ran away, leaving the leader behind. 

“You took a look under my sheet, and now...” the ghost(?) floated even higher, “YOU HAVE BEEN CURSED! MUAHAHAHA!”

“AAAAA!” the scaly brute dashed off immediately after throwing his bucket at the ghost(?). As the boy disappeared down the street, Tooru immediately emptied out the buckets into her Invisible Bag, which is almost filled to the brimmed with her delicious loots. Hearing another group of little trick-or-treaters coming in her way, she immediately set into her position.

~~~~~~~~~~

This is just plain stupid. This horror story telling is too repetitive. The dead girl in the toilet. The spooky piano that plays on its own. The suicide forest. Sure they can scared and spooked Hanako at first but listening to these stories over and over again seems to lose its charm.

Her peers didn’t seem to think so. Sitting in a badly formed circle in the middle of an empty park with an electric candle right in the middle of the said circle. Some third-rated spooky music supposedly to put people in the mood to get scared. 

“... and there she sat, drinking the boy’s blood like a drug!”

“You sure this is a true story? Sounds fake.”

“Totes not! Search ‘blood drinking girl’, man!”

Even if it’s a true story, Hanako doubt the legality of the story. If this T.H. girl supposedly love this guy, she should kill those girls instead of the boy. Eh, she shouldn’t question it.

“Sooooo, who’s next?”

“Can I have a turn?” 

“Sure!”

A husky voice chuckled, making the horror-numb girl trembled. That was new to her, not one of her peers sound like that. Even her seat partners shivered too.

“Let’s see, anyone ever heard of a certain narcissistic man who killed anyone who said he’s ugly?”

Oh, this is new. Perhaps her peers didn’t disappoint her yet. After affirmation, the rasping voice continued. Due to the light is too dimmed, she was unable to see who’s telling the tale with such voice.

“There was once a man, with a face no one could ever compare to. His visual is second to none. Women praised him, loved him, worshipped him. Men hated him, cursed him, and some even fell for him.”

Hanako lighted up. A total original story! She listened with rapt attention, ignoring how her horny peers groaned and moaned at the suggestively rough voice.

“One unfortunate event is all it took for people to turned away from the man. An arson planned by envious men who couldn’t take it anymore, seeing their supposedly lawful spouses dreamed and loved a man that isn’t them. How envy drove them mad. The damage is dealt. His entire body is burnt to crisps and yet, he lived.”

The music stopped. Before the person in charge of it could fix it, it suddenly played an ominous song that she had never heard before. She didn’t know that the harsh-sounding peer have good taste in music. 

“Truly unfortunate it is. The once handsome man lost all his supporters in one whole swoop. His haters jeered and hurling faux-pity at him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Wrapped in his measly black-burnt bandages, he asked each and every single one of the people, ‘Am I handsome? Am I gorgeous?’. People jabbed jokes at him before they get stabbed to death.”

Hanako is curling into her jacket as the air getting chilly. Weird, as inattentive as she was, no one have a quirk related to wind. Now she think about it, not even one of them have a husky voice, even the her male peers are just getting their puberty hit on them.

“One by one, they dropped to their death. Even children and the senile were not spared. The man went mad with his vanity spiralled out. He asked, he cried, he stabbed. Then, he came onto a group of teens who sat around in a circle telling stories after stories. Can I ask?”

The girl suddenly felt dread coursed over her body. She thinks some of her peers piss themselves. Before anyone could react, the electrical candle went off. Hanako quickly reached out to turned it on and, lo and behold, a man wrapped in black-burnt bandages stood in the middle of the circle.

“Am I handsome?” the man who owned said husky voice gleamed at them with flashing black eyes, “Am I... gorgeous?”

Screams could be heard throughout the neighbourhood. When people found the source of said scream, teens would either huddled up or straight up fainted. The only thing missing among them are the candies they collected. Hanako might cried a bit, but whoever that man is, he earned himself a fan.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Happy Halloween!” 

Waving off the kids, Mrs Gokudera beamed at her almost empty candy-bowl. Ever since her grandkids started their high schools, they almost never visit her in this lonely home, which makes this holiday truly joyful. Just as she was about to filled the candy-bowl with her homemade striped candy balls, her doorbell rang. Sighing blissfully, she opened up the door.

Instead of little children, few masked people appeared the other side of the door. Mrs Gokudera usually pleased to see that other people enjoyed the good old trick-or-treating but her quirk, Intentions, alerted her as she saw them with dangerously black aura. 

“Heya, old lady. Trick or-”

“Definitely trick, imbeciles.”

Interrupting the one who started to sprouted blades out of their arms, the group of masked people turned towards the other side. Mrs Gokudera couldn’t see who it was as the malicious people blocked her sights but she saw a white aura coming out from that person. Knowing she was in good hands, she immediately slammed her door and dialled the police. As she dare peeked out of the window, she gawked at a hooded figure fighting against people with an obviously fake scythe and a manifested shadow(?) that seems to basked in the chaos.

When the police arrived, the fight is over. The hooded figure and his shadow companion came out unscathed but his prop is broken. Sensing his frustration through a grey aura, Mrs Gokudera beckoned the bird-headed figure, who seems to finished his statement to the police.

“Hello, dearie. You okay?”

“Don’t worry, madam. We are perfectly fine. Although we had to cut short our fun due to this unholy festive spirits that decided to bother you.” the hooded figure solemnly nodded.

“Oh dear. Sorry to cause you trouble.”

The shadow companion seems to beamed at her loudly, “Don’t worry, lady! We are heroes! This is nothing!”

Ah, that explains why the police didn’t bother him for vigilantism. Clearing her thoughts up, she thanked him by giving most of her stashes. It’s really funny seeing how the bird-headed hero humbly accepted while the shadow just cackled in delight as they dumped the wrapped candy balls into their goody bags.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We are back, hubbies!”

“Welcome ba- why are there ten gigantic bags? Did you guys steal them?”

The three trick-or-treaters sheepishly chuckled as they got stared down by the tail hero. Behind Mashirao, Mezou handed a few paper money to Hitoshi, who tried to snickered quietly before got stared down by his disappointed husband too.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Killing Boys - C. Hood.

Requested? Nope.

Tag list: @killerqueenishere @starshonerose

Tagged two lovely people who are kind supporters of my writing! If anybody wants to be part of the tag list let me know!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17. Based on “Killing Boys” by Halsey.

Rule number 1 of having somebody like Y/F/N in your life, is that you should never, under any circumstances even consider the idea of crossing her. Ever.

She can be the sweetest person, but she also knew how to cut people off without a second glance. And how to get her revenge.

She kept her friends close and her enemies closer.

Which is exactly how she ended up gracefully slipping through the back left second storey window of the Hood house at exactly 12:43AM on a Thursday night.

She was quiet, agile. In her youth she spent many, many days in the bedroom with the boy who was once her best friend. The layout hadn’t changed and she stood over him, quiet as a mouse.

His breathing was deep, face relaxed and mouth slightly agape as he snored softly. Even asleep, he was quiet. She adored it about him.

Growing tired of waiting for him to wake on his own, she held a hand over his mouth and tapped repeatedly on his forehead, causing him to stir and then jump when he saw the girl.

“Don’t make a sound, Calum.” His eyes were wide, not used to the serious tone of the girl, “we have a mission.”

Told me pick my battles and be pickin' 'em wise, but I wanna pick 'em all and I don't wanna decide. No more.

“What mission? Why are you here so late? Did you come through the window?” He clutched the blanket to his chest when she moved to rip it away, how voice squeaking, “No! I’m naked!”

“You’re naked?” She raised a brow. She knew for a fact that he was not naked, simply shirtless. She lived next door to him for Christ sakes, she often saw him walking past his window with his sweats low on his hips and no shirt.

“Yes?” He stated, more as a question that a fact. He looked confused, and she looked annoyed.

Thus then led to Calum positioned in the drivers seat of his mother’s Honda Civic, a black shirt covering his torso after Y/N had forcefully put it on him in a way his mum would when he was younger.

They were both quiet, the only sound occupying the space being the radio blasting 90’s throwback. Y/N sung along to every song.

So we'll sneak in the back and then we'll kick in the door.

Every so often she would stop singing along to direct him, and eventually they pulled up outside of gated community. Inside he could see houses larger than two of his out together. The street lights were bright, and there was a strong theme of pale white brick as the foundation for almost all of the twenty or so houses inside.

The gardens could be seen from outside of the gates, every lawn clipped incredibly close and evidence of professional routine gardeners was admissible.

There was no attendee at the gate, instead she made him pull up close enough so she could input a code to the after hours keypad.

“The only thing in his phone that he didn’t hide,” her smirk was devilish, and Calum felt his heart racing at the sight.

He didn’t know what the point of their trip to her boyfriends neighborhood was, but Calum relished any moment he could spend with the girl.

Even if he never had a shot with her.

She directs him to stop a few houses down from the large White House. The lawn was clipped and an Australian flag was positioned hanging from a flagpole next to the grand driveway.

The same drive way that had four expensive cars parked.

“So what are we doing here?” He asked, eyeing the houses carefully. They didn’t take too kindly to non-residents visiting the community, especially not two teenagers from the less well off neighbourhood out on a -quote- revenge plan.

“You ever keyed a Ferrari before, Calum Hood?”

She extended her hand, in it lay multiple keys of various sizes and sharpness. A smirk was still on her face but her eyes hid something.

Almost sadness.

Tell me have you ever keyed a Ferrari before? Oh no, oh I don't anymore.

The snuck towards the house, Calum’ large feet making more racket than Y/N’s smaller ones, followed by a schedule of shush sounds falling from the girls lips.

“You sure about this?” He whispered as they approached the sleek red vehicle.

Her boyfriend bragged for nearly six months after his father had spent the large sum of money to get the overpriced vehicle. The cherry red body gleaned in the low light, and he found himself stopping to admire the beauty of the automobile in front of him.

“Now or never, Hood.”

She was beaming, and a cringe pressed into his features as she stabbed the key into the paint, walking the length of the vehicle without lifting it.

“Oh my god!” He whisper-shouts, hands raising to grab at his black curls.

“Shush!” She hissed, scratching more marks into the paint job. “You gonna stand there; or are you gonna help me draw dicks on this piece of shit?”

And I'm not breaking, I won't take it and I won't ever feel this way again 'cause you don't need me anymore. And I won't ever try again and all I want in return is revenge.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. Her boyfriend was the biggest jerk in their school. He tormented everybody. He couldn’t help but want revenge as well; although he wasn’t sure why Y/N would feel the need to get revenge on her boyfriend.

They spent almost an hour scratching various pictures and words into the once pristine car.

They were in their own little world, laughing with ear other and both getting revenge for the wrongdoings caused by the boy, when the porch light flicked on.

“Shit!” Left the girls lips and her fingers laced with Calum’s.

Within seconds she was pulling him along, running side by side with him as an older man rushes out of the house. He stood, not a wrinkle in his silk pajamas, an expensive looking phone clasped in his hands and he cursed the surveillance cameras for not being functional.

A stupid move, really.

Cause I don't need you anymore. So where do you go?

She rushed to the drivers side, releasing Calum’s hand as she climbed in and sped off once he claimed the passenger seat. They were both out of breath, a smile on Y/N’s face and a nervous grin on Calum’s.

She grabbed his hand as she drove, shaking it in the air as she voiced her excitement.

His cheeks flushed at the action, but he remained still as she kept his hand in hers when the moment passed.

Pull up to the drive and I remember the codes. Yeah, the only fucking numbers you don't hide in your phone. No more, no more, anymore.

She drove them to a park near their shared street, exiting the cat and claiming a spot on one of the swings. Calum followed her, already missing the weight of her palm on his.

“So,” he tried as he took a set on the swing next to her, “wanna tell me why we just ruined your boyfriends most prized possession?”

She swung her legs softly, rocking the swing back and forth. She didn’t look up at him. Calum knew her well enough to know that she only avoided eye contact when something was wrong. She was the most confident and positive girl he knew and it hurt him to know something had happened to bring her mood down.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” there was a small smile on her face, a sad smile and Calum found himself reaching for her hand again. “Found out he has been sleeping with my best friend for a couple months.”

“Oh.”

She made a noise of agreement, laughing softly, “It’s okay, I put hair remover in her shampoo.”

He let out a loud laugh involuntarily, and she laughed along with him.

“I feel bad about it, considering we’ve been friends for so many years but she slept with my boyfriend. I think my betrayal is a little less than hers,” she swung their joined arms, looking up at the boy.

Climb up to the window and I'm breaking the glass then I stop 'cause I don't wanna Uma Thurman your ass. No more, no more, anymore.

“I should have called Michael, we could have tried to kick his ass,” he laughed, picturing the two of them getting their ass kicked by the popular boy.

“I think I have a better chance of going Uma Thurman in his ass than you two do, god bless your souls,” the smirk was back on her face and he felt at ease witnessing the light return to her eyes.

And I'm not breaking, I won't take it and I won't ever feel this way again 'cause you don't need me anymore.

“Thank you for this, Cal,” her voice was soft, her eyes boring into his flushed cheeks.

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. Any guy would be stupid to turn down a pretty girl asking you to go with her on a revenge mission,” he released the words before he could stop himself, only to turn to see a slight redness tinting her face.

She beamed at him, leaning across the space between the swings and kissing his cheek.

And I won't ever try again, and all I want in return is revenge, ‘cause I don't need you anymore.

“I’m sorry that asshole did that to you. He doesn’t deserve you, and neither does your ex-best friend,” he whispered again, turning his head slightly and gasping at the close proximity.

If she leaned forward a fraction of an inch, their lips would press together. Calum would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about kissing the girl he had been infatuated with for many years.

“I don’t need them, especially not her. Plus, boys are just place holders, they come and they go. Except for somebody as amazing as you. I’ll keep you around if you want to stay,” she whispered back, pressing a kiss to the corner of his cheek.

His face dropped slightly, the anticipation of her lips on his getting the better of him, but he still smiled sweetly at her confession, “I’m here for as long as you want me.”

“Dish our more sweet lines like the ‘pretty girl asking you on a revenge mission’ and you’ll get what you want,” she winked, giggling he beamed at the words falling from her lips.

When I don't need you anymore.

And I don't need you.

[alwaysrunningoutoftime]

(Pictures: 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9)

Your Friendly Neighbourhood, Wizard. (Alex Russo/Justin Russo Fanfiction)

Prologue

Pairing: Superhero! Alex Russo x Justin Russo, Slowburn.

Genre: Action, Humour,  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance

Warnings: mild/explicit language, Injuries, sisterxbrother.

Set: After Season 4x10 "Wizards Vs. Angels" (Which is somewhat heavily involved in both Alex and Justin’s separate storylines.) + “Back to Max”.

Est. Length: 8 Chapters.

Summary: After defeating the dark angels, Justin continues to teach his delinquent class unconsciously suppressing his guilt over the ramifications of the moral compass. Simultaneously, Alex unconventionally stumbles into a superhero gig. Inept and unprepared, great power and an even greater burden is placed on her shoulders. Bothered by his sisters reoccurring absence, Justin determinedly investigates her distant behaviour. Meanwhile, Alex is forced to face a truth she’d always buried, discovering it unwillingly from a formidable powerful being she will have to defeat.

Disclaimer/Author's Note: I’ve been brainstorming this fic probably since quarantine started. It’s mostly inspired by Spiderman! Into the Spiderverse, Holland! Spiderman and Garfield! Spiderman. As well as the looks and feel of DC Comic’s Raven and Marvel’s Scarlet Witch. Other inspirations include music from Birds of Prey, On My Block, Euphoria. All of which I do not own. In addition, I sadly do not own Wizards of Waverly Place.

However, Alex’s origin story is wholly my own that I personally thought up myself (so let’s hope it’s believable) and if it correlates with any other superhero storyline it’s purely coincidental. The OC’s are also obviously my own creation.

“Do you know why you’re here, Alex Russo?”

“Ummm…” Alex backed up at the man's intense stare. She was pretty sure he was going for intimidation, but it fell short landing right on uncomfortable. “Not really…”

“Well, young lady,” His words were layered thick with haughtiness. Alex had just met the man today and she already knew she disliked him. “It seems you were part of a riot in central park.”

“No…” She narrowed her eyes at him, shook her head, even elongated the word in an attempt to get it through his thick skull. “I was trying to get home.”

She was actually trying to find her wand, but he didn’t need to know that. The wand that Rosie and Gorog decided to fling off the dark realm tower.  The detailed image of it glowing magic in the night sky as it twirled to its doom stayed seared to the front of her mind. She could even hear her own cry for it as everyone watched it go. My wand.

“So what were you doing in Central Park?” Right after returning the moral compass she searched Central Park assuming it had landed there. Key word: assuming. It was hard to calculate where objects falling off towers landed. For her, it was hard to calculate in general.

“A girl can’t go to one of New York City's finest parks just for the fuc- fun of it.” She replied with a smile, catching herself before she swore. It was just her luck to get the arrogant, novice, goody-two-shoes, by-the-book cop. They didn’t enjoy it when she did that.

“And you just happened to be hanging out with an enraged mob?” He asked mockingly. Okay so...she did get mixed up in a riot. Which wasn’t her fault. She was too focused at the task at hand to pay any attention to the crowd of screaming people she had walked through. What was more concerning was that one of those fuckers was stepping all over her wand, or worse one of them had already snapped its cherry redness in two.

“I wasn’t hanging out with them-”

“Yeah, instead you were disturbing the peace and provoking assaults.” Alex had to stay low to the ground for any sign of her wand which perhaps caused a few people to accidentally trip over her. There was also a minor possibility that her assertive bumping into others unintentionally started some fights. This all lead to Richard here (according to his desk tag), cuffing her and bringing her to the NYPD Central Park precinct. Meaning her wand had been left behind, defenceless against the grimy boots of crabby New Yorkers...if it was even there to begin with.

“How do you disturb the peace in a riot?” Alex fired back.

“Ms. Russo, you’ve had a record since you were twelve.” He said, abruptly switching topics and ignoring her. Rude much. To prove his point he made a show of flailing her folder around. It was a decent size for her age, Alex inwardly complimented herself. The first crime listed there was in summer 2004, when she sold those fake broadway tickets to unsuspecting tourists. That summer was a blast: hundreds of ice cream sandwiches and magazines.

“This behaviour is to be expected.” He finished. Alex suppressed an eye roll, this dude was getting on her nerves. Yes, she had a few run ins with the cops, but that didn’t mean she was always guilty of doing something vaguely illegal. Ever since she became a wizard, she'd barely caused any trouble with the mortals, Alex commended herself. Her last record was a good year ago, with a little vandalism and conning going under the radar but that was it. In their eyes, she could have set herself straight since then. Which she did.

What happened to the benefit of the doubt, what happened to believing people could change. Screw him and his patterns. And screw her wand for not being in Central Park. Now she’d have to buy a new one she sulked, slouching lower in the hard chair.

“I don’t like your attitude, Missy.” He said, noting her behaviour. ”Kids these days, not respecting the police.”

Oh my gosh, I just wanna go home. Richard Owens (what a lame name) continued typing at his computer, probably adding ‘riot starter’ to her record. He’d been holding her here for an hour now, still trying to gather evidence and witness accounts to file in her record. So far he had zero, zip, nada, not a single thing. Since everyone's memory seemed to be fuzzy, which she guessed was due to the moral compass.

Alex was annoyed at him and his cockiness. Annoyed at this hard chair that was making her butt fall asleep. Annoyed at the amount of people in this room, and how overly hot it. Would it kill them to crack open a window or turn up the air conditioning.

“Is that you, Alex Russo?” A woman said, approaching the desk. Oh finally her saviour.

“Wassup, June!” Alex grinned up at Song Namjoo, or June, as Alex called her. Much to Namjoo's displeasure. Not so much the name as it was Alex being an annoying little shit.

“What’d you do now?” She asked, placing a hand behind Alex’s chair, leaning forward to scan over the computer. The woman had her hair pulled down into its signature low bun, not a hair out of place. Her pristine police sergeant uniform was pressed to perfection with not a single crease, something Justin would greatly admire.

“No way, June you passed your Police Sergeant Exam!” Alex exclaimed. “You look dope.” She nodded in approval.

“Yeah.” June modeled for a second, before straightening her posture. “Passed about six months ago.”

“Well congratulations.” Alex smiled, genuinely proud. June was her life saver, and lowkey pain in her ass. Wherever she caused a ruckus (exclusively non magical) June would shortly be there. June had stopped a lot of unwanted things from going on her record, and also had a way of calming down Jerry and Theresa when they threatened to send her to the military. On the other hand, it's like she had some sort of Alex specific third eyes always managing to catch her in the act. Plus, her lectures were lengthy and boring and she didn't even allow Alex the option to sleep through them. In a way, she was Justin, if he were in the police force and was, you know, a Korean woman.

She shivered at the thought. Sure, Justin saved her a few too many times but that was because he was her brother. June was altruistic, she held herself with poise and grace. Like a cool aunt who'd let you off the hook halfway then let you decide for yourself the rest of the way. Besides, June was high-key a badass and Justin still cried over 'Mantooth'.

She felt a light pinch on her arm, automatically ready to shout 'POLICE BRUTALITY!' catching herself as she connected eyes with June.

June subtly raised an eyebrow in question towards Alex as if to say ‘What did you do now?’ Alex shrugged in response, her face saying ‘I’m innocent I swear’. June in turn gave her a half believing/ half disbelieving expression, before rolling her eyes. Which was always code for ‘Fine, I believe you’. After knowing June for a good 5 years they'd learned to read each others facial expressions pretty well. It helped with her record, it definitely helped with the parents.

“Okay really Richard a riot starter.” June stared at the man with clear judgement on her face. “Leave the girl alone. We have bigger things to worry about then a riot starter.”

“Oh, like what, June?” Richard goaded. First he disrespects Alex, and now June. Alex doesn’t know a lot of things she will admit, but she picked up on workplace professionalism. To begin with June was a higher ranking officer meaning she was above him. And Richard said her name without its formal title, displaying a lack of respect. Alex watched as June’s expression turned perplexed, or more accurately her ‘bitch, what did you just say?’ look. Alex wished she had popcorn now and a comfy chair.

“First of all, that is Sergeant Song to you Richard. Secondly, maybe you’ve been on desk duty for too long but we’re dealing with a lot more than riots.” June started. This was gonna be good. “There have been innumerable cases of aggravated assaults, burglaries, thefts, property crimes, arsons, and attempted murders. The crime rate has exponentially increased on this day alone. It’s worst than the 80s, Richard.” As the venom dripped from June’s mouth, Alex was quickly realizing what truly happened this night. “Every precinct in New York is packed to the brim and every hospital too. There are more citizens than staff members. And to top it off, a lot of these people had no previous record before this night. No explanation why they would do this and barely any remembrance of what they did. Not even a full moon could explain this utter fuckery!” She exclaimed, motioning around the precinct.

Alex cringed, knowing exactly what had caused this, or more accurately who. She didn’t realize how serious turning that moral compass was. It had only felt like a game of tug a war with her brother like what they did as kids. She even played around with him, tricking him into thinking he had broken the thing so she’d gain the upper hand. When they were flying above the dark realm tower, pulling and pushing they felt so far removed from the world. It was literal child’s play, no throwing punches, no broken bones just like a high school grip test.

But, she could see the damage they caused now. The place was overfilled with people. At each desk, in the cells, standing around. Some bleeding out, others with lost expressions on their faces, the ones she couldn’t even look at were the people crying. All these people had done something bad or suffered because of it. All because that moral compass pointed in the wrong direction a little too long.

“And out of everyone in that riot you chose the person farthest from the action, a clear bystander.” Alex wanted to laugh bitterly at that, if only these people knew just how involved she really was in this. If only they knew their desire to do good relied on a floppy arrow on a disk. But, she’d never tell them this, she’d let people continue to believe they had a bigger choice in their lives. That’s what she had to do as a wizard. As long as it saved her ass. As long as it didn’t affect her.

“So yes Richard there are bigger things than a 17 year old girl.”  June finished. The room was completely silent, all eyes staring at Richard. It was so quiet Alex could hear the sound of Richard’s ego deflating like a balloon, saw his face turning as red as a tomato until he resembled a sheepish boy who had just been scolded by his mom in front of all his friends. She couldn’t even take pleasure in his pain, now faced with her own mistakes.

Ha, take that dick. She tried to lighten her spirits. Cause like dick is the nickname for Richard. It didn’t work that well.

And…

Richard let her go, with no new record of ‘inciting a riot’, all thanks to June and how she completely dragged him through the mud.

June walked her to the front door of the precinct, stopping at the door.

“Okay bye Alex. I wish I didn’t have to say this…” June said, taking a deep breathe and closing her eyes to ground herself. “See you soon.” She gave a fake smile.

“You know me so well June. I’ll be sure to bring my best stuff next time, though.” Alex replied back keeping her humour up. She was still a little unsettled at the amount of people she saw on her way out.

“Aha.” June laughed drily, clearly not amused. “Stay in school, kid." And then she was pushed out of the building.

Just as Alex took her first steps away from the precinct, "Hey! The streets are worse tonight, stay safe Alex.” June shouted before shutting the door.

Alex looked back, a sigh heavy on her lips. She composed herself, her mood quickly lightening at the prospect of going home. Which meant her bed, which meant lying down, which meant sleep.

She wouldn’t walk of course. Use magic, definitely. If someone thought she was gonna walk home, they were sadly mistaken.

Looking around to see if anyone was watching she backed into the nearest alley.

“Woah, watch out kid!-”

She was pushed with brute force into the alley wall. Are you kidding me? She smacked right into the bricks, her elbows preventing her face from getting smashed. Hadn’t she been jostled enough today. She stiffened as she felt a bolt of magic graze past her, causing the hairs on her arms to stand up.

Wait a minute… Magic? There was a wizard.

She turned around to see a woman in a Kevlar black suit push a man further into the alleyway. The woman threw a punch to the man’s face, a crackle of blue magic extended through her fist causing the man to crash into the wall.

“What the fuck.” Alex whispered. She must have actually hit her head because this couldn’t be real.

The woman turned to Alex, her dark blue boxer braids swinging with the movement. A mask covered half her face, but all Alex could see were her eyes glowing blue in the dark, as if rimmed with the magic. “Leave, now-“

“Watch out!” Alex screamed back, seeing the man getting up already. A bright pulse of white magic extended through his fingertips towards the masked woman, who quickly ducked dodging it, giving a swift kick to the man's stomach.

He was thrown off balance, long enough for the woman to turn to Alex shooting a burst of blue magic into her direction.

Alex brought her hand in front of her as if to stop it. Was this woman trying to kill her? She closed her eyes, ready for impact.

Then opened them to silence and a vast space of whiteness. She was in the wizard portal. The masked lady had teleported her here.

So, the blue magic lady was a wizard and a superhero…and people were still being bad even after the moral compass was returned.

Alex thought about it for a moment. Then with a shrug of her shoulders she brushed it off, beginning to walk to the lair.

Frankly, Alex was exhausted: her back hurt from flapping those wings, her knees were sore from all of the heavy landings she endured with the wings, her arms ached from that tug-a-war contest she had with Justin, her butt was sore from that hard chair, her feet ached from all the walking she did and she nearly got zapped in the face with magic. On top of all of that, she still didn’t know where her wand went.

Alex sighed in relief when she finally got to the lair. All that walking was making her even more tired. She pushed the door open, determined to get to bed and collapse. But her steps faltered when she was greeted by the sight of her brother looking down at a white feather.

It didn’t take a genius to realize the feather was Rosie’s. Alex was worried at the sight of him, grasping a feather from another lost love wasn’t a good sign. And more than that he hadn’t been himself for the past week. She’d barely talked to him for the past week, so she was nervous to see how he was after everything.

“Justin…” She began, confusion laced in her tone. He turned at her voice.“What are you doing still up? It’s late.” And also past his appointed bedtime.

“I stayed up because I owe you something.” He began. Her cherry red wand in his hand. Her glorious cherry red wand she’d been looking everywhere for. Finally, reunited with what had been plaguing her mind all night her eyes immediately brightened at the sight of it. She grasped at it with both hand, smiling down at her wand.

“I found it in Washington Square Park.” Oh, Washington Square Park. Damn she really did suck at calculating. Nevermind, the fact that it was in the complete opposite direction. “A two-headed dog had it. Pretty sure he didn’t start out that way.”

So her wand was chilling in lower Manhattan with a two headed dog as she searched the grounds of upper Manhattan, tripping people over and starting fights, and getting caught by the police. She giggled at that, amused with what her night turned into.

“Thank you.” She genuinely meant it. “What about your wand?”

“I, uh…” He held his wand up, inspecting it for a moment just to show her the sad state it was in; snapped in half with duct tape barely holding it together. She laughed at her brother’s antics. Secretly, relieved to have her brother back. Him and even his humour. Yup, he was still Justin. “I’ll find a spell to fix it.”

He set his wand down and turned to face her, an earnest expression on his face. Alex was taken aback by the swift change in atmosphere, the room suddenly feeling more serious. “And I owe you something else.”

He came forward. Her eyes flickering at his movement. Oh, And we’re hugging.

His arms wrapped around her, bending down to rest his chin on her shoulder. He quietly uttered, “Thank you for saving me.” while comfortingly rubbing her back as he always did. Ever since they were children, it was a soothing motion he always did when he hugged her. A distinct movement they could focus on together to calm down. She nodded slightly, silently appreciating the moment.

“It’s for all the times that you saved me when I wasn’t so good.”

Countless images were brought to mind, most prominent of all: a campfire in the rainforest. She began to feel nostalgic and a bit anxious. Not fond of the emotions, she quickly lightened the atmosphere. “And for a couple more times in the future, so we’re even.” She finished with a smile, satisfied with her little joke.

“No, we’re not.” Justin replied, coming to sit down on the desk beside her. “You saved the world today.”

She studied him for a moment, silently disagreeing with his words. She was only trying to get him back, everything else, saving the world was secondary to that.

She’d never admit how anxious she felt seeing Justin so unlike himself: stealing flowers, using magic in public, and stomping on people's groceries. Overall being a jerk. The worst of it was when she revealed Rosie's true nature, he still chose her, a girl he’d known for less than a month than his own sister. A dark angel, whose values would never align with his own. And when she tried one last desperate time to get him back he still chose darkness. Only turning good because of that girl. It hurt more than she thought it would.

But Alex had to remind herself of something very important: that Justin was the one influenced by dark angels. That he wasn’t himself at the time and that scarily some powers are greater than her connection to her brother. So she’d keep it to herself, shove it in the back of her mind like she usually did with all of her emotions, and ignore it, until she’d be forced to confront it.

Instead, she focused on the reassurance she’d gotten when Justin finally came back. How happy she was when he immediately told her to put the moral compass back, in that commanding voice he used when he would clean her messes. The ease she felt now that he was once again right beside her. Like a puzzle piece clicking back into place (and screw him for making her think of boring puzzles). This is where he was meant to be.

She would never say that out loud so she said, “You gave up a girl to protect it” instead.

She watched a faraway expression take on his face, familiar to the one he wore in Transylvania when he lost Juliet. He’d lost Rosie now, and a few weeks ago she'd learned she wasn't meant to be with Mason. It’s like they were both cursed to never have a happy ending. Only ending up with the comfort of each other.

She didn’t think about how established this felt. Or the strange notion that perhaps this was how her happy ending was supposed to be.

In an attempt to stop herself from wandering too far back in her mind, she asked him. “Why do we have to keep dealing with stuff like this?” He was Justin and he always had the answer. She could always count on him.

“We’re wizards.” And it was like that was the be all, end all. “I don’t think we have a choice.” The plain and simple answer.

It was horrible how that answer alone made complete sense to her. How she’d just thought about it in that overpacked precinct. All of her mistakes and losses were always tied into being a wizard.

So, maybe she was past the point of caring, past sadness and moving into delirium with a little sprinkle dead tiredness because she smiled instead. She smiled up at him and he caught her before she turned away. He bumped her with his shoulder, bouncing her away and back to him.

They were settling back into their pattern. Just the two of them: Justin and Alex. She sighed contentedly and a little tiredly resting her head on her big brother's shoulder, feeling his head rest on hers.

For all her mistakes and all her losses at least she always had her Justin.

And she hoped he knew for all his mistakes and all his losses he’d always have his Alex.

She closed her eyes, fully ready to sleep.

“We’ll be okay, right?” Justin quietly asked.

Alex yawned, furrowing her brows slightly at the unexpected question. Maybe they should have been more aware in this moment, appreciated it more. Maybe she could have helped him better if she’d paid more attention. Maybe, he could have protected her better from darker things than angels.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

For Alex would soon face a burden so great it would compromise her relationship with those around her. After all, with great power comes great responsibility.

[pixie-unger]

Neighbours - 2

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Fred answered the knock on the door promptly at 10am.  She tried not to grin since she could hear them out in the hallway for the last five minutes.  She opened the door and stared.

Despite her elvish ancestry, Fred wasn’t tall.  She was a perfectly average 5’4.  At six feet, Tianda was a perfectly respectable size for an orcess.  “Uncle Frank” was not just the tallest male of any species, Fred had ever seen, he was also the biggest.  If he had been human, she would have diagnosed anabolic steroid use, but his physique wasn’t totally unheard of among Orcs.  On the other hand, it wasn’t exactly common, either.

The man had to duck to fit through the doorway.

Fred’s mind temporary boggled at the idea that HE was dating Mac’s teacher.  The woman was shorter that Fred!  How did they even...Nope! No! Not her business!  Reroute that train of thought right now.

Frank’s nose twitched and he grinned at her.

Fred forced herself not to frown and offered everyone a coffee.

Frank excused himself downstairs to go visit his girlfriend.  Tianda and Fred made awkward small talk where neither of them talked about the kids’ fathers.  That was, until Brayden asked Mac, “Is your daddy in jail, too?”

Mac gaped at him, “Yeah!  Is yours?”

“Yeah.  For armed robbery.  How about yours?”

“He tried to kill Mum with a baseball bat before I was born.  Are you ‘lergic to peanut butter?”

“No.”

“Mum!  Can I make peanut butter toast?”  Fred and Tianda shared an awkward glance.  Fred shrugged.  Tianda nodded.  Mac whooped and bounced over to where they kept the bread. “I love using the toaster,” she confided in Brayden.

While the kids were making mostly a mess, but as a byproduct, peanut butter toast, Fred awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck.  “Yeah, so there’s that.”

Tianda considered this.  “When does yours get out?”

“Next year.  We got divorced shortly after Mac’s birth.  Left him off her birth certificate and he didn’t contest it; I might have lost child support, but it means he’ll never get visitation rights.  He had a slightly stronger defence at his trial - there is a permanent restraining order against him, though.”

“Wow...”  Tianda breathed.  “Those don’t always work, you know.”

Fred shrugged.  “Nah, but skipping the country and not giving a forwarding address generally does.  Convicted felons can’t enter the US.”

“Well, shit.” Tianda said.  Her kids both giggled at her.  “Right! Sorry.  Bad word.  You don’t get to say that, understand?”

All three kids nodded.

From then on, Tianda and Fred spent the morning commiserating about raising kids as a single mom.  Tianda rubbed her belly and admitted that her husband’s brothers were being incredibly helpful.  “I don’t know how I would manage without my family to help out.”

Fred dropped her gaze to stare at her lap for a moment.  “Yeah,” she said quietly.  “But he knows where my parents live and, like you said, restraining orders don’t always work.”

Tianda hauled herself out of the chair.  “We need to go organize some lunch and get Frank to take us for groceries, but…  Look, there’s a Fogtooth party next week.  Do you know what that is?”

Fred shook her head, “Fogtooth is the local clan, right?”

Tianda nodded.  “There is a barbeque in the afternoon, it’s great for families.  Everyone is welcome.  Why don’t you and Mac come by and I can introduce you to some of the other moms in the school.”

“That sounds great!”  Fred gushed, hoping for good weather.

----

Saturday started out great, but rain was forecast for that evening.  Fred hoped it held off until she was safely home.

The barbeque was hosted by the community association and the Fogtooth clan, which Kate had been clear to point out was most definitely not the same as the Fogtooth gang.  At least not on paper.  In reality, most of the male clan members belonged to both.  By all accounts, the block parties were strictly demilitarized.  Even the local humie gang, Altamira was invited.

Hell, America’s first orc cop even turned up with his partner, his partner’s wife and their kid.  Fred vaguely recognized the woman as one of the Emerg nurses from the hospital.  They were all very polite, even if Officer Jakoby was smelling her.  At least he didn’t comment.

It was the kind of hot out that promised thunderstorms later.  Fred didn’t own a pair of shorts, but she dug out a long sundress that came down to mid calf on her.

She had a burger and a beer and met a bunch of moms from Mac’s class.  It seemed like the split was ⅓ orc, ⅓ human, ⅓ other.  Kate from work had a nephew at the school.  Mac’s teacher wasn’t there, but Frank was.  Fred wondered about that, but didn’t ask.

She rather got the impression that all the moms already knew about her ex-husband, but at least no one asked if he had been an elf.  Elves don’t go to jail.  Not really.  Not often.

Fred could feel the storm coming, but she toughed it out until Mac started to yawn at seven, then said her polite goodbyes.  The nice thing about being hanging out with the orc crowd was that no one tried to talk her into staying.  There were some perks to being around people who could smell your pain, namely she had never had to have the spoons discussion with anyone who wasn’t human or elf.

They made it to the front entrance of the apartment building before the rain hit, but by then Fred could hardly walk.  The nice thing about everyone being at the party was that there was no one to witness how she nearly had to crawl up the five flights of stairs to her apartment.  She gave Mac a bath and tucked her in, then took some painkillers and had a soak in the tub herself.

Ugh.  She needed to find a ground floor apartment.

That was one nice thing about this building.  Unlimited hot water that was very nearly hot enough to burn.  Getting out of the tub was hard.  Fred let the water out, then flopped, inelegantly over the side.  She wrapped up in a towel and made it to her room by leaning heavily against the walls.  She dug out a clean sleep shirt and panties without turning the lights on.

Fred was in bed before nine.  She left the window slightly open and enjoyed the sound of thunder outside.  After a particularly loud crash, Mac woke up and came screaming into bed with her.  Fred rubbed her back.

“Go to sleep, sweetie.  I’m gonna need your help tomorrow, alright?”

“ ‘es, mama.”  Mac mumbled.

And with that, Fred felt another wave of guilt.  Mac shouldn’t need to help her as much as she did, but neither of them could do it alone.

----

Zarfu had spent the afternoon flipping burgers and keeping an eye on the new doctor.  So far, she had a good rep in the community.  Hell, Tamra said she was the first doctor she had taken her boys to who understood that sometimes boys just play rough.  A scuffed knee and three stitches didn’t immediately require a call to child protective services.

But he didn’t understand why she was here.  She stank like pain, with an undercurrent of fear and that faint hint of lust that seemed to always follow hume females.  As he watched her, he noticed she wasn’t moving around very much and she was slightly favouring her right leg.  Not enough so that a person would notice if they weren’t paying attention, but enough that it was obvious if you were.

She disappeared in the crowd and Zarfu forgot about her.

Until he met her in the local bodega the next morning.  Today she was walking with a cane.  She was buying breakfast for her and the kid.  He was buying Red Bull for his hangover.

She frowned at him.

Zarfu was not in the mood.  “What you looking at, bitch?” he snarled.

She blinked in surprise and replied honestly and without fear, “A man in need of a gatorade.  Tell, you what.  You pick out your favourite flavour, I’ll buy it and if you drink it before the Red bull you will feel better.”

Zarfu just snorted, then huffed to try to blow the smell of her pain out of his nose.  “You think so, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said.  The kid handed him a clear sports drink.  

Zarfu glared at her.  That worked.  The kid squeaked and hid behind her mom.  Now he felt bad and when Zarfu felt bad, he shared.  “You want make me feel better?  Suck my dick.  That’ll make me feel better.”

The woman just sighed and didn’t say anything, she just looked tired.  When Zarfu snorted again, she smelled like hurt.  That was when he remembered that she was a doctor and might not be completely full of shit.  He snatched the gatorade out of the kids hand and stormed out out of the store without paying.

She was right though.  He felt quite a bit better by the time he got to Dorghu’s

----

Mac watched the orc, who was easily a foot taller than her mum, storm out.   Fred ran her hand over Mac’s head and said softly, “It’s okay, baby girl.”

“He was really scary, mum.”

“Yeah.  But he’s gone now.  Look, we will either figure out how to fit in, or we will move again until we find someplace we do fit it.”

The Dwarf standing on a box behind the counter, waved off Fred’s attempt to pay.  “You fit here, Doc.  We have a hard time getting good health care in this neighbourhood.  I heard how you fixed my mother-in-law’s ingrown toenails.  Not many would want to tackle that job.  Said you were proper respectful, too.  Not many of your kind would be.”

Fred winced at the “your kind” comment, then she insisted on paying anyway.  “I want to keep my money in the community.  I pay you, you buy something from the guy up the street, this neighbourhood gets a little better off.”

Mac noticed the teenaged orc in the corner listening to the whole exchange, but her mum didn’t.

[ifridiot]

Punchable

Naia gets some help from Cable. Takes place about six months or so before the last fic I posted, History. Plot suggested by @byfe​

Naia knew who Cable was, had seen him in the news, heard Wade talk about him way more than they honestly ever wanted to, but he was one of those sort of… distant people, like a celebrity or a politician. He was a step above a myth, confirmed real but certainly not someone Naia ever expected to meet.

Or, as the case may be, almost punch in the face.

One minute, Naia’s alone on a dark rooftop, watching a small caravan of cars pull up to the warehouse where the Giuliani family was set to have some kind of meetup to discuss a weapon they’d acquired. Naia needed to figure out what the weapon actually was, and why Vincenzo, who previously had stuck to the drug trade with a healthy side of racketeering, had decided his family should dip into the weapons trade at all. If it came to it, they were prepared to kill a few mafiosos, but at a small sit down like this, they hoped to be able to keep casualties to a minimum.

They’re alone, mentally running through the blueprints they’d memorized of the warehouse interior, deciding the best way to sneak in without being noticed -- recon was the most important part of the night -- and then their danger-sense was going haywire.

Nothing sounds wrong, at first, but thirteen years have taught them to trust that when the danger-sense said ‘something dangerous is behind you’, something dangerous was probably behind them.

And so, before they’ve even gotten a chance to see the man up close, they spun and tried to punch him in the face.

The blow, aimed for someone closer to their height, should have hit the man in the neck, too low for a clean strike to the mouth, but still devastating. Naia could lift railcars; a punch provoked by fear was bound to be devastating.

Except, they manage to get through the spin, leaning into the punch, but then they seem to freeze, their whole body seized by some kind of paralysis.

Gives them plenty of time to recognize the dour face of the time travelling mutant soldier. His head tilts just slightly to the side, as if, when they’d turned, he’d started to sway out of the line of fire before remembering he could do this telekinetic freeze bullshit.

Let me go, fuckhead, they badly want to shout, but Spider-man is generally less ragey than Naia, and would give a guy with a reputation like Cable at least a little respect. So they just think it, loudly, before remembering that the asshole can read minds, too.

All four arms are starting to feel stiff and sore -- honestly, this is worse than trying to hide their secondary arms -- and they register that even if they could figure out something appropriate to say, they can’t move their jaw to speak.

Okay, that’s a little scary.

“Spider-man,” Cable says, measured, calm. Like he’s trying to be soothing, but is also impatient. “I need you to come with me.”

Just like that, the force holding them drops, and they stumble, catching themselves and glaring at Cable. The mask won’t translate the look, but they indulge in it anyway. Judging by the way his lips press thin together, he’s picking the sentiment up just fine.

“You realize I’m at work, right,” they hiss, two hands gesturing toward the warehouse, outside of which men are drifting, casing the area, creating their security net. It was still a few hours before Vincenzo and his guests were scheduled to show up, time Naia needed to see how the goons were going to arrange themselves so they could figure out the attack plan. “Would you show up at like, the hospital while a surgeon is scrubbing up before surgery to demand help?”

“If it were necessary. If the future depended on it,” Cable says, all cool and collected like he’s making an effort to be patient. Naia groans, sagging backwards with their face angled at the overcast sky. It’s July, and the weather seems dead set on raining. So much the better for stealth; the sound of the rain would mask any noise they might make sneaking around.

Now Naia was wasting time talking to this busybody asshole with his distracting metal arm and vaguely disapproving frown. Okay, yeah, they could maybe see where Wade was coming from, maybe, but he was still an busybody asshole.

When he smiles, the expression mostly just a deepening of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, barely a quirk of the lips, Naia scowls. He even makes smug look good, wearing self-satisfaction with the ease of one who fully knew that he’d earned the right to feel it. Absolutely obnoxious, ugh.

“Look,” Naia says evenly, the voice modulator evening out the little bit of anxiety that would otherwise have managed to leak into their tone, “this is a one-night-only high stakes event. Whatever you want, I’ll help you tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever you need, just not tonight, thank you for the offer, goodbye.”

Cable sighs, the resignation in his posture enough to communicate that he’d expected this to be difficult but had hoped it wouldn’t be and now he was disappointed. “Wade was right. He told me you were funny. And stubborn.”

“Yeah well, fair’s fair, Wade was absolutely wrong, ‘cause he told me I’d think you were cool and you’re actually just a bit of a prick,” Naia throws back, turning to gesture sharply, all four arms rigidly extended toward the warehouse. “I have a job to do. Stop giving me the guilt-trip Dad-Eyes and go save the future somewhere else.”

Silver eye brows hitch pretty high for a moment, lips pressing thin again. “Saving the future involves you leaving with me. Now.”

Naia turns toward him again, arms dropping. “If I don’t figure out what the fuck those men have and what they’re planning to do with it, they’re going to start killing people. People will die. I know you’re all about the ‘big picture’ and a couple dead mobsters here, a dozen dead civvies there, they ain’t nothin’ to you, but see, they are a big deal to me.”

“If you go in there tonight, you will die. I can’t let that happen.”

A beat of silence before Naia groans, turning away and staking toward the edge of the rooftop where they’d set up their little stake-out nest. “If you expect me to believe that I’m somehow important enough that the time and place of my death affects anything in the grand scheme of things, you’re way, way dumber than Wade’s led me to believe.”

“You need to know what they’ve got? They’ve got two things, Spider-man. A very powerful telepath and a lot of guns. You’ve been fed information to lead you here tonight, and they’ve done a good job, because you absolutely believe you can sneak in there and listen in on a meeting that’s not even going to happen.”

Cable talks like Naia is being obtuse, and frankly, the tone is kind of ticking them off. They get the distinct impression that he’s trying to pull strings here, and they don’t like being led. “Vincenzo Giuliani is a small time crook, he’s got no scores to settle with me outside whatever grander bullshit the Italians might be thinking. There’s been no word of a raise in the reward for my death, no incentive for him to suddenly set up some elaborate trap to reel me in.”

“The Italians have all kinds of reasons to want you in the ground. In fact, most of the criminals in New York would like to see Spider-man dead. You’re walking into a trap that was specifically designed for you, and I’m trying to help you.”

And the worst of it is, guided down that path of logic, Naia can kind of see what he means. Naia would never have gotten wrapped up in this if it was one of the bigger families, the ones with more consistent megalomaniacal bends; they would have tipped off one of the big guys, because they were great at handling small time stuff, okay with a few supervillains now and again, but they really didn’t do the flashy stuff.

Friendly neighbourhood Spider-man. A small mob family looking to dip their fingers into the weapons trade? Just their speed, something that could become a big problem but that could be taken care of before it became too much of one.

It really was sort of a tailor-made situation for them to have spent time on (and oh god, what kind of shit might have been going on while they were putting this case together) and put their focus on, and it would be, in an enclosed warehouse in an industrial park with no witnesses around, exactly the right environment for them to be outnumbered and overwhelmed. Pulled off right, it was the perfect setup to catch them, because the danger wouldn’t be direct enough for the danger-sense to warn them until it was too late. Telepaths were never fooled by their cloaking ability, and they might have a thicker skin than most, but they were definitely not bulletproof.

They couldn’t think of a reason why Cable would lie about this, but it was also… troubling… to try and figure out why it would matter enough for him to intervene. People died all day every day. Someone was probably being murdered right now, someone who could have changed the world somehow but never got their chance. What in the hell could be so important that Time Cop Jesus would decide to step in?

“Things are going to get very dark in the next few months,” Cable says, gravely, like that clarifies anything. “People will need you, your strength, your kindness. Not just the memories.”

“If this is all some kind of plot, aren’t they just going to double down on getting me dead?”

Broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “You know there’s a plot now. I imagine you’ll figure out how to deal with the Italians without getting killed.”

Naia squints at Cable, head tilting to one side, assessing him. “You got a real big gun there. And I’d guess you’re better at telepathic shielding than me with your, y’know,” they wiggle the fingers of one hand by their temple. “Bet together we could really fuck Giuliani’s shit up.”

This time the smile is a little more present, crooked like he’s trying to keep a straight face. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Okay, fuck, so you’re Tuxedo Mask, show up, flip your cape, you’re done here.” Naia scoffs, throwing all four hands up. “What good are you?”

“I just saved your life.”

“Yeah? You want praise and accolades? Christ.”

They can feel him staring at them as they gather up their equipment. “Wade told me you had an… interesting sense of humor.”

“Wade tell you I don’t like nights off? Fuck, I wasted so much time on this shit and I can’t even punch anyone over it.”

Cable is smiling openly when they look at him again. It’s still a rather subtle expression, a curl of his lip, the deepening of the wrinkles around his eyes. No business making smug look hot, but there he stands, the absolute bastard.

“Well,” he says, “I could use a hand with something.”

They perk up a little. “Would I be allowed to punch people?”

“It was implied, yes.”

Thunder rumbles, and the first few drops of rain splatter against the mask as they drag their jacket back on and move toward Cable. Down below, Naia can hear Giuliani’s men shouting orders at one another, still setting up security. Part of them quite badly wants to go down there and hurt some people, and they’re willing to bet that, whatever Cable said about them being important in the near future, he’d let them go if they went, even if it got them killed. He’s got that powerful Good Guy energy, the kind that says he can’t fault free will.

But why die when you can live to kill the assholes another day, when they’re not expecting it?

“Alright. Let’s go punch some assholes.”

[sleemo]

Edge of Darkness

From the Marines to the Emmys to the most powerful cultural force in the galaxy, for ADAM DRIVER, finding his path has been a long, hard battle. Now, for STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI, in a role he never imagined could be so complex, the brooding face of millennial angst faces his toughest fight yet. Spoiler alert! 

—British GQ, December 2017

His face shrouded beneath a hood, Adam Driver strides toward me. Shoulders hunched, fists jammed into jean pockets, he lets out a low whisper, “Hi. I’m Adam.”

The mixed messages – simultaneously worrying he’ll be recognised and that he won’t – hang in the air awkwardly as Driver surveys our spot, a near-empty New York City café. Neither fear is well-founded; there is no flock of fans to notice him and yet there is no mistaking the actor, his grey hoodie notwithstanding.

“I try to disguise things, but it just doesn’t really work for me,” Driver says, shedding the sweatshirt. “I honestly just look the way I look and it’s difficult to blend in because I’m tall and I look strange. I shouldn’t put a judgment on it.”

Others have judged his appearance more favourably. Driver has been dubbed a “cure for the cookie-cutter leading man” and “a millennial sex symbol”. Which may or may not be a compliment. Although few phrases are as loaded as “unconventionally attractive”, it’s as if those two words were combined expressly to describe Driver. Exaggerated ears; hooded, slanted eyes; long nose with a boxer’s bridge; broad mouth and lips – his disparate features coalesce into a surprisingly appealing whole.

“I guess I never think about it like ‘I am a leading man’ or ‘I am a sex symbol.’ It’s strange to hear that stuff. I don’t think I could have imagined it,” says Driver. Yet, there was his visage on Gap billboard ads; in American Vogue with a black-horned ram slung across his shoulders; in a close-up at the Emmy Awards, where he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor three years in a row for his part in HBO’s Girls; and cast eternally in plastic as a Kylo Ren action figure for Star Wars: The Force Awakens – masked and unmasked versions available. (“Not bad,” he says of the likeness, “but my head and face are a lot bigger.”) Passers-by who once stopped him to ask, “How could you do that to Hannah?” in reference to the bad-boy behaviour of Driver’s character in Lena Dunham’s runaway-success television series, now ask, “How could you do that to Han Solo?”

“It’s a lot,” Driver says, “every part of my life. If we rewound to ten years ago, I would not have said that this is what my life would be.

“And now this music,” he waves his hands at the piano composition streaming through the café like pretentious Musack, “is making that sound so emotional. It isn’t helping, you know?”

Far from angry, the brooding face of millennial angst is smirking. At 33, Adam Driver’s signature intensity hasn’t wavered, but interest in being a tortured artist has. He’s aware of his tendencies – toward anxiety, analysis and absolutism – and is taking steps to temper them. Still, it’s a struggle, seeing good fortune as anything but a cause for self-flagellation.

If we did rewind ten years, we’d see why. Driver was a Gordian knot of clenched intensity. Enrolled at New York’s Juilliard performing arts school, he was so aggressive that his comments made fellow students cry. Every morning he would have six eggs for breakfast, then run five miles to the school from his home in Queens. He would eat a whole chicken for lunch and, during his day at the prestigious drama school, perform random feats, such as 1,000 push-ups.

“That must’ve been an obnoxious thing to be around,” he says, shaking his head. “I was trying to make it as extreme for myself as possible. Now it just makes me so tired and annoyed.”

I’ve met Driver in a peaceful, leafy corner of the Brooklyn Heights neighbourhood that he and his wife, Joanne Tucker, call home. It’s a square precinct full of baby strollers that belies the borough’s hipster cred. “I like sleepy, quiet places,” Driver explains, “because my job is very loud.” Right now he’s savouring a respite from work, the first in a five-year sprint to stardom and even letting himself idle a little. Driver, who has made a career of ill-at-ease eccentricity, is starting to feel comfortable in his own skin.

He genuinely enjoyed himself on the set of Star Wars: The Last Jedi, which will be released in cinemas this December. “The first one was all ‘You can’t fuck it up,’ you know? There was a lot more hanging out this time,” Driver says. “Then there are just practical things, like I have a lightsaber. That’s fun.”

Whatever the outcome of the larger battle between good and evil, the Resistance and the First Order, never underestimate the power of Driver’s light side. ”I had heard about Adam’s intensity before I worked with him, but he’s also really fun and funny,” says Rian Johnson, The Last Jedi’s director.

There was one emotionally charged scene that they shot over and over. “Every time the guy holding the clapper marked each take, Adam just starts trying to steal his shoe,” Johnson recalls. “It was hilarious. And then Adam goes straight into it with all the intensity of Kylo Ren. He just added a sense of play that made the process really click.”

Neither Johnson nor Driver can say what the scene was about or who else was in it. They are acutely aware of the cone of silence that surrounds the Star Wars films, suitably enough, like a force field. “There’s probably something in my contract, I don’t know – but it’s kind of unbelievable that no one has told me, ‘Don’t say anything,’” Driver explains. “It’s just implicitly understood.”

With plot points guarded like state secrets, even the tiniest perceived leak sets off an online feeding frenzy. Internet scribes grab at every quote, often misreading them. “You have to clarify truthful things you’ve said that people read these false things into,” Driver says. “It can be frustrating.”

After several years of sidestepping spoilers, Driver is practised at the art of obfuscation. His evasive manoeuvres are near perfect.

On whether he enjoyed acting opposite Daisy Ridley, who plays Rey: “That’s hard to answer. I mean, people assume that we’d spend time with each other. Maybe our characters see each other in the movie?”

On whether he had scenes with Carrie Fisher: “It’s hard to answer without being vague.”

On whether the lightsaber scar on his face, which came courtesy of Rey in The Force Awakens, was moved for the new film: “I noticed a lot of things.”

On whether Kylo Ren’s story has a happy ending: “Not saying yes or no. But continue.”

On whether Han Solo might have known Kylo Ren would kill him: “That’s interesting.”

On whether he appears with his mask off: “Yes, I can answer that. You’ll see it off in the new trailer, so I’m not giving anything away!”

Other times, Driver playfully embraces the absurdity of it all. “I can’t say anything, but what if I signal you,” he jokes. “If I just start sneezing uncontrollably…” He fakes a loud achoo and exclaims, “Bingo! Harrison Ford’s ghost returns!”

When I ask him about Kylo Ren’s mysterious order of Dark Side disciples, the Knights of Ren, he waxes whimsical. “We can talk about them. Peter, Paul, John… No, I was thinking of The Beatles. Except wait – there’s Peter. He was too ambitious on the tambourine. Now you know: the last Knight of Ren is Ringo Starr!”

On this particular mid-September day, the internet is abuzz with new speculation that Ridley’s character, Rey, is the daughter of Princess Leia (also Kylo Ren’s mother). This theory would take any romantic tension between her and Driver’s Kylo Ren into the realm of incest – territory that the first Star Wars trilogy explored with a kiss between Mark Hamill’s Luke Skywalker and Carrie Fisher’s Leia.

“Yeah, my uncle and my mum made out,” Driver says, with a laugh. “Which Mark still talks about. He’s like, ‘Luke kissed his sister. How could he do that?’ I guess he hasn’t seen Game Of Thrones, you know?”

The Last Jedi marks the final film in Fisher’s storied career. Like the rest of the cast, Driver was shaken by the actress’ death last December at age 60. “It’s hard to talk about it without saying generic things,” he says. “Like, ‘It’s shocking,’ but it was. Or ‘It’s incredibly sad,’ which it is. I mean, it is all of those things.”

Driver brightens as he recalls Fisher’s wit on display at Comic-Con before the release of The Force Awakens. “The whole cast was downstairs in a conference room, talking through what’s supposed to happen at this big event. She was like, ‘Just pretend you’re down to earth. People love that shit.’” Driver pauses for a moment then laughs. “So now I pretend I’m down to earth and you know what? People really do love that shit. They eat it up.”

The image of Driver that people have consumed is not so much down to earth as intense and uncompromising, the all-or-nothing avatar of millennial manhood named Adam Sackler, Driver’s character in Girls. Ever since Driver landed the part, originally a cameo called simply “Handsome Carpenter”, the notion he really was that id-driven artist has, like the life of another charismatic carpenter, been taken as gospel.

In the public consciousness, Driver’s backstory is as extreme as his alter ego’s: a Midwestern misfit enlists in the Marines after 9/11, then studies acting at Juilliard – and finds he’s an outlier in both worlds. The truth is both less and more dramatic.

Born in San Diego, California, Driver is the son of a preacher. When his parents divorced, Driver moved with his mother back to her native Mishawaka, Indiana, where she was soon remarried to a Baptist minister. As a teenager, Driver was a poor student who dabbled in pyromania, trainspotting and climbing radio towers. A fan of the film Fight Club, Driver started one with some friends. “Just seeing the angst, I thought it would be a good idea to emulate it.“

Acting offered Driver a way out of the tiny town he called a shithole. “I applied to Juilliard when I was graduating high school and didn’t get in, so I was like ‘Well, fuck it. I won’t go to college, then.’” Instead, he set off for Hollywood and what he thought would be overnight stardom. “I’d always heard the stories of people striking out and finding success,” he says. “Why not me?” The dream lasted as long as his hand-me-down 1990 Lincoln Town Car did. After it broke down outside Amarillo, Texas, the repairs cost Driver nearly all the money he’d saved. When he finally limped into Los Angeles, Driver spent two nights in youth hostels. The only agent he signed with was a real estate agency, which took him for the rest of his savings. Having landed neither an apartment nor an acting gig, Driver arrived back in Indiana a week after leaving.

Following the 11 September attacks, Driver did not, as some retellings suggest, march down to the recruiting station. Instead, he enlisted in the Marines several months later. “My stepfather pushed me into it a little bit, which was good – I was grateful for it,” Driver says. “It followed an argument where he was like, ‘You’re not doing anything!’ I’d gotten this brochure in the mail. He was like, ‘Why don’t you just join?’ I was like, ‘No, I’m not going to join the Marines.’ Then I thought about it more. I had this sense of patriotism and wanted to get involved. I also had no prospects. I was living in the back of my parents’ house, working as a telemarketer.”

From the start, Driver’s time in uniform had a profound effect on him and his worldview. “The patriotism, the idea of country, doesn’t go away necessarily, it just turns into something else,” he says, reverently. “Not a big, sweeping idea, but this group of people you’re serving with, and that becomes your world, and it becomes sacred.”

Going into the Marines, Driver had a seemingly straightforward goal: “I’m going to be a man.” But rather than reinforce clichéd concepts of masculinity, military service put the lie to them. “You have to put implicit trust in the people to your left and right, and when they demonstrate that they’re looking out for you, that their own safety is secondary to yours, then all that kind of guy shit goes away and there is no ego,” Driver says. “There is no posturing, no need to say how much of a man you are, whatever that even means. You prove it with your actions.”

When Driver was not allowed to deploy to the Middle East with his unit, after suffering a broken sternum in a mountain biking accident, he was despondent. Although he fought to stay on active duty, Driver ultimately received a medical discharge.

He decided to apply to Juilliard again and this time got in. The transition from the Marine Corps to a New York City drama programme was jarring. During Driver’s second year, in an effort to bridge his past and present vocations, he launched a non-profit called Arts In The Armed Forces with his then-girlfriend, now wife, Tucker. Driver was able to carry a discipline and teamwork into his studies, but it didn’t stop him from feeling he’d gone soft. “I was like, ‘What am I doing? I’m wearing pyjamas doing acting exercises where I’m giving birth to myself or being a plant or moving around in jelly,’” he says. “Then again, even now, I’m like, ‘What am I doing?’”

After a brief fallow period after graduating from Juilliard, Driver says he learned to hate everyone in the audition room. He didn’t like TV and almost skipped his audition for Girls entirely. Instead, he dazzled the show’s creator, Lena Dunham, and the one-episode part Driver had read for was expanded into a central one. In audition after audition, Driver made a similar impression on a series of noted directors. Even before Girls aired, Steven Spielberg cast him in Lincoln, in which he played a telegraph operator opposite Daniel Day-Lewis. “He was very nice to me,” Driver says of the legendary method actor. “He would still talk in character, but very nice.”

In particular, Driver’s unusual, instinctive style made him a favourite of indie filmmakers. He landed meaty roles in the Coen brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis and a series of films by writer-director Noah Baumbach: Frances Ha, While We’re Young and The Meyerowitz Stories (New And Selected). He played the lead in Jim Jarmusch’s Paterson and shared top billing in Steven Soderbergh’s heist comedy Logan Lucky. When Martin Scorsese was finally able to make his passion project, Silence, after two decades, he sought out Driver. Similarly, Driver recently wrapped shooting on The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, which Terry Gilliam had been trying to make for 17 years.

And yet nothing Driver had done remotely prepared him for Star Wars. He had grown up a fan of the original trilogy, but had little faith in outsized film franchises. “I’m leery of big movies – a lot of them sacrifice character for spectacle,” he says. “When they’re bad, it pisses me off – you can just tell it’s made by a bunch of executives somewhere.”

Despite his initial trepidation, the complicated nature of Kylo Ren put Driver’s concerns to rest. “It was all about story and character and playing someone who doesn’t have it all together. Making him as human as possible seemed dangerous and exciting to me.”

Driver was drawn to an idea that JJ Abrams, who wrote and directed The Force Awakens, had. The man behind the mask was not a man at all, but rather a young person struggling to come of age. “I remember the initial conversations about having things ‘skinned’,” Driver recalls, “peeling away layers to evolve into other people, and the person Kylo’s pretending to be on the outside is not who he is. He’s a vulnerable kid who doesn’t know where to put his energy, but when he puts his mask on, suddenly, he’s playing a role. JJ had that idea initially and I think Rian took it to the next level.”

Driver is on a roll now, discussing what excites him: character and narrative and cinematic influences. The original Star Wars was an homage to Akira Kurosawa’s 1958 film The Hidden Fortress, he says, and the link lives on in the new trilogy, in which concealed identities drive the narrative. Then he lets it slip. “You have, also, the hidden identity of this princess who’s hiding who she really is so she can survive and Kylo Ren and her hiding behind these artifices,” Driver says, apparently dropping a massive revelation about Rey’s royal origins.

Perhaps he’s unconcerned and Rey’s parentage is less dramatic than imagined by fans, who posited that her father is Luke then trumpeted that her mother is Leia. Or it could be that, in passionately holding forth, Driver is simply unaware he’s revealed anything, much less a major spoiler. In any case, he doesn’t skip a beat. “The things that made it personal to me,” Driver continues, “I’ll keep to myself, but I think everybody can relate to the idea of almost being betrayed.

“Wow, this music is killing me.”

As the café’s latest piano piece reaches its crescendo, I ask Driver if he tapped into his own experiences with his dad and stepfather and he reverts to evasive manoeuvres.

“I may leave that one. I have strong convictions about not talking about family, for many reasons,” Driver says. “It’s not as if the answers for Kylo are found in my relationships with my parents.”

In The Last Jedi, director Rian Johnson saw Driver go light years beyond his own experience. “Adam was always pushing the context of the character,” Johnson says. “He’s put in this unhealthy environment and goes through the worst of youth, the selfishness and volatility, he’s representing that side of adolescence.”

Of course, these days immaturity and insecurity are no strangers to power. “It makes complete sense how juvenile he can be,” Driver says of Ren, who prefers lightsabers over Twitter for his tantrums. “You can see that with our leadership and politics. You have world leaders who you imagine – or hope or pray – are living by kind of a higher code of ethics. But it really all comes down to them feeling wronged or unloved or wanting validation.”

Even more topical and even more touchy was the decision to play Kylo Ren like a radicalised extremist. “We talked about terrorism a lot,” Driver says of his early conversations with Abrams and Johnson about his character. “You have young and deeply committed people with one-sided education who think in absolutes. That is more dangerous than being evil. Kylo thinks what he is doing is entirely right, and that, in my mind, is the scariest part.”

The demagoguery drives him to the most famous film patricide in galactic history, as Kylo Ren kills Han Solo in the shocking denouement of The Force Awakens. “When I watched the premiere, I felt sick to my stomach,” Driver recalls. “The people behind me, when the scroll started, were like ‘Oh my god. Oh my god. It’s happening.’ Immediately, I thought I was going to puke. I was holding my wife’s hand, and she’s like, ‘You’re really cold. Are you OK?’ Because I just knew what was coming – I kill Harrison – and I didn’t know how this audience of 2,000 people was going to respond to it, you know?”

One person in the crowd who appreciated that scene was Han Solo himself. “We were sitting on this catwalk in between takes,” Driver recalls, “and Harrison was like, ‘Look what we get to do. Just look what we get to do.’ Meaning, look at how lucky we are that this is our job, you know? To see someone at that point in his career still get excited like that hit me. It’s like, ‘Oh, right. I need to take this in more.’”

As if on cue, a couple stop and introduce themselves. “I love everything you’ve ever done,” the wife says. “Everything.”

“Thanks a million. Yeah. Hi, I’m Adam.”

As fan encounters go, it is respectful and pleasant, but not even a whimper of what will soon follow come the release of The Last Jedi.

For all the ways in which he’s made peace with his success, Driver, who is almost pathologically private by nature, remains uncomfortable with notoriety. “I’m not in the world the same way I was before,” Driver says. “It’s completely changed my life. My anonymity is gone. But who I am as a person is the exact same. I think. Or, I hope.”

Soon after, we exit the café, as Driver is heading home for some quiet time. He stops in front of a bicycle locked to a fence. “It only looks bourgeois-hipster because of the saddle,” Driver says, adding that he’s only just added the leather Brooks seat. “I bought the bike for $200 back when I was at Juilliard,” Driver says. “Besides the seat, it’s the same crappy bike I’ve had for forever.”

Driver pulls his hoodie up over his head and as he starts pedalling off turns back to me. “Remember,” he says. “Pretend you’re down to earth. People love that shit. Right?”

The Last Jedi is out on 15 December.

[littlelostbirdy]

I love this, and the tags

The first time, Tim notices someone observing them from afar, it is when they are all settled for a brief dinner together. It is the middle of the week, and Bruce gathered all of them together to... relax. Which is strange but not unwelcome. Everyone is so involved in chattering and bantering that they don't notice a lingering gaze through the window; they don't, but Tim does.

It takes him a few seconds to figure out that it is Jason.

He is not sure if Bruce reached for him to invite, and Jason just declined, or there was no offer to begin with, but Tim knows for sure Jason lurkes behind windows for a few minutes before disappearing in the night.

And the funniest thing? Tim understands him.

He thinks he is not Jason's replacement — never truly was, despite what the other thought — but in a way, they did swap their places. Because in the past, it was Tim, who hid on the rooftops, staring at Bruce and his family, listening to the snippets of their conversations. And now it is Jason.

It is still different, of course. Tim had a choice, and it was his... enthusiastic project, if anything — Jason doesn't really. But if anyone understands the feeling of standing far away from everyone, it is still Tim.

That's why the next time in happens, Tim reaches out.

It is after the particularly easy mission, when Tim spots the red motion on the rooftop. He slips away from Nightwing and Robin, who debate about something with Batman through the comms, and finds himself standing behind Red Hood.

The way Red Hood taps his fingertips on the balustrade makes Tim remember that he is not included in their comms anymore. He wonders how lonely it is, to hear the voices of his brothers, but never being able to grasp the whole conversation they have.

'Hood,' he calls for him.

To Jason's credit, he doesn't scramble in panic, even if it seems that he is surprised by his appearance.

'Red,' he mutters back, instantly defensive. 'What, came to mock me?'

Tim rolls his eyes; he wishes things would be easier with Jason, but they are not, and he can't really blame him for that.

'Had I ever mocked you?' He copies his stance, arms folding in the chest. When Jason tilts his head, almost asking, "Really now?" Tim rolls his eyes again. 'Okay, I did a few times. But it mostly were jokes about your death.'

Jason chuckles.

'Good one, punk. It changes everything.'

'You like jokes about your death,' Tim protests. 'And I know you allow Arsenal to joke about it, so it is not entirely closed topic.'

'I don't remember allowing you to joke about it, though.'

...

This conversation is so fucking stupid. Tim didn't even came here for this, but-

But fine. He still can win.

'So, you only allow it to your friends. Fine. Let's be friends,' Jason chokes on his own exhausted sigh. 'Do you need some friendship questionnaires to fill to be my friend? I can arrange that.'

Jason kindly flips him off under his breath before disappearing in the night, leaving him alone with whining Nightwing and irritated Bruce in his ear.

The next time he stalks down Jason, who in turn is stalking Damian and Bruce, he shoves in his hand twenty three papers filled with bunch of friendship questions — half stripped from internet, half made by Tim that involve the specifics of their jobs.

He doesn't expect anything to come after it, but in two weeks after Jason returns to the city after his mission with Outlaws, Tim finds these papers filled with surprisingly neat, calligraphic answers.

And he gets the printed copy of the same questions, with one page of an additional one, written in the same handwriting, and with a little sticky note atop of it.

Your turn, Timbo.

Tim smirks.

Oh, he will so drag Jason back in the family, somehow.