#man i never realized what acrobatics my fingers used to do while typing

[reitziluz]

i survived the worst typing lesson so far. felt as bad as trying to pat your stomach and pat your head at the same time. (i have never been good at stuff like that, never was able to play drums either)

i've also gone through enough keys that it's viable to start forcing myself to type "properly" and it's pure torture because ofc i'm now slow as shit

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Reality Check-Euphoria Imagine

Requested: No Warnings: mentions of trauma and a scene of an attempted sexual assault

A/N: I’m back from a super long break! I am so sorry I have not been able to update this blog since I started grad school but I have a bit of a break to write a bit. I just finished Euphoria so after this imagine, I’ll get started on the requests.

I own nothing from Euphoria and do not claim to own anything

Gif is from:geek-ramblings

Everything in italics in the story is Rue’s narration

Y/N Y/L/N wanted to be a princess for as long as she could remember. It didn’t hurt that every Disney movie and other piece of media designed for little girls endorsed this dream. One of those movies was the 1997 Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella starring Whitney Houston, Brandi, Whoopi Goldberg, and Victor Garber. It was the first time Y/N saw a princess who looked like her and it solidified that her dreams were possible. She watched that movie every day for three years and knows the soundtrack by heart. When her older cousin, McKay, irritated her, she would belt “Impossible/It’s Possible” at the top of her lungs in retaliation. While McKay was pushed to his limits on the football field, Y/N would twirl around in her living room during the ballroom sequence, pretending as though she had a dashing partner who would whisk her away. Her parents didn’t mind this dream since it suggested that she was as “normal” as a little girl could be. Eventually, Y/N’s mother put her in dance classes so that she could learn how to be graceful and dance with real people. Y/N fell in love with dancing since it gave her a way to express herself without speaking. Y/N was one of the sweetest people ever, but she was so shy and nervous, and I didn’t get it. Once she got comfortable, she actually had some things to say and a decent sense of humor. What she rarely let anyone know was she still dreamed of finding her prince, even though East Highland was overrun with frogs. In middle school, Y/N focused on studying and dancing while everyone else was practice dating (ie talking for a few hours on Facebook Messenger and avoiding eye contact in the hallway save a few nervous glances). She was hopeful that she would meet her prince in high school since that’s how it worked in the movies and what her older cousins had her believe. Y/N learned quickly that high was not like the movies and did not entertain herself with frivolous things, something Maddy called her out on at lunch one day.

  “I’m right so don’t even try to fight me about it,” Maddy affirmed from across the table.

  The cafeteria was busy and smelled of semi-fresh food and bubblegum. Y/N, Maddy, Cassie, BB, and Kat sat at their usual table. Y/N paused mid-bite into her cucumber sandwich and closed her mouth as soon as she realized it was hanging open.

  “What?”

  “You don’t do anything outside of school and dance team unless we drag you out and that needs to change,” Maddy insisted.

  “I do other things,” Y/N said hesitantly.

 “Yeah, like what? And it can’t be anything that you would use for college!”

   Y/N racked her brain for a few moments. “Well, I watch movies and I read----”

  “Fun things!” Maddy interrupted.

  “Like gettin’  d-ck,” BB added.

  Y/N’s face warmed up and she looked away from BB. “B, why’d you have to say it like that?”

  “Well, at the end of the day, all that romance sh-t you’re into is just a pretty form of foreplay.��

  “No, it’s not, they’re displays of affection and they’re beautiful. I know you all think romance is dead but I can’t and I don’t want to settle for that.” Y/N nodded her head in the direction of a table of guys who were concocting potions by mixing up the lunch of day with milk.

  Cassie grabbed Y/N’s hand. “No one would expect you of all people to settle, but you haven’t dated anyone and there are some good guys in this town if not in this school. We just want to see you happy.”

 Y/N could tell that Cassie was being sincere by the look in her eyes, all her friends were, but they also knew why Y/N behaved a certain way. The summer before eighth grade, Y/N saw the texts on her mom’s phone between her and a man that was not Y/N’s dad. It sickened her to her core, and she had no idea how to process it. Suddenly, her parents’ nightly arguments coupled with her mother’s late returns from nights out with “a friend” made more sense. She did not tell either of them that she knew and kept quiet about it. If she did not acknowledge it, she thought it would go away. She threw herself into dancing and studying, which did not raise any eyebrows. One night, Y/N, Maddy, Cassie, Lexi, and I went to the movies to see a Twilight movie. When she stepped out to get a popcorn refill, she saw her mother standing on the other side of the theater, smiling and flirting with a man who had to be in his seventies. Y/N managed to keep it together until we got back to Cassie and Lexie’s, where she broke down and told us everything. We hugged her and tried to calm her down, but there was nothing we could say that would repair her heart. Y/N’s mom officially stopped cheating when Y/N was fifteen but by then, the damage was already done. Her parents wanted to work on their marriage but neglected their child’s emotional and mental wellbeing since Y/N was so good and pretending she was fine. Her grades were excellent, she was the youngest co-captain of East Highland High’s dance team, and she stayed out of trouble. But if you really look at her, you can see the heartbreak in her big, coffee-colored eyes. Despite this, Y/N was convinced that there was a great guy out there for her, but she was extremely reluctant to date. She prayed that college would be better than high school and she would find the courage to date then.

  “I love and appreciate your guys’ concern so much, but I am not about to give up my,” Y/N paused and glanced around the cafeteria before whispering, “virginity just to fit in, no offense.”

  “Come on, Y/N, you may look and act all pure but you have to be dying to know what good d-ck feels like,” Maddy whined.

  She had been, Y/N was human and not a total saint after all.

  “I can wait, really.”

  “So, have you just not been interested in any guys? I know plenty who are interested in you,” Cassie added.

 “What?” Y/N was baffled by the loaded statement.

 “Come on, Y/N, you know you’re hot,” Kat said.

  “Your legs go up to your neck, Sis,” BB blurted as she nibbled on a Twizzler.

 “Your face is basically perfectly symmetrical, it disgusts me,” Maddy said, emphasizing her statement with hand gestures.

  Y/N chuckled nervously under the attention. “Thanks, guys.”

  “But, is there anyone that interests you?”

  Y/N glanced down at the tops of her metallic rose gold sandals. “No, not really.”

  That was a total f-cking lie. Since fourth grade, Y/N harbored a crush on Nate that was fueled by when he shoved Caleb Parker after Caleb shoved Y/N during a game of tag in gym class. When Nate helped her stand on her feet, he was basically her knight in shining armor. Nate fit Y/N’s type perfectly: tall, dark hair, dark eyes, killer smile, and kind. Y/N never said anything, but anyone could tell just by observing the way she looked at him and the fact that she could never string together a decent sentence around him. This did not stop her from daydreaming about him and watching him from afar. She thought that maybe she could impress him with her dancing, and he would be forced to make a move. Y/N paid close attention to what Nate liked and disliked about girls, leading to religious mani-pedis and waxing. I tried to talk her out of it freshman year, but I can’t blame her for ignoring a junkie’s advice. When Maddy and Nate started dating, Y/N tried to cut off her attraction to Nate because she loved Maddy like a sister. She stopped pining after him but wished that she had a tenth of the confidence Maddy had.

  “That’s it, we’re going to a party on Friday and you are going to meet a guy,” Maddy demanded.

  “What?”

  “Relax, you don’t have to sleep with him…unless you want to.” BB wiggled her eyebrows and Maddy, Cassie, and Kat burst into giggles.

 “I think I can start off with kissing.”

 “Have you even kissed a guy?” BB shot back.

 “Yes, I have.”

 In second grade, Travis Williams was double-dared to kiss Y/N on the playground. She knew that he wasn’t her prince charming since he produced too much saliva, and he was dared to do it. It gave her a weird complex about how attractive she was since no one really approached her. Sure, there were guys at parties but they just wanted something warm to slide into, not a real relationship.

 After practice, Y/N and Maddy sat across from each other with their legs spread out, pulling each other back and forth to stretch.

 “You really went in with this number, my legs are still killing me,” Maddy moaned as Y/N tugged her hands.

  “Well, Alia wants to do something super impressive for homecoming; it’s not my fault she was so inspired by Homecoming.” Y/N relaxed her back while Maddy gently pulled Y/N’s arms towards her.

   She relished in the stretch as her muscles released. Alia had tasked her with working on the homecoming choreography a month ago and the only requirement was it had to be set to Beyoncé’s “Diva/Everybody Mad” mix. It was tricky choreography, complete with acrobatics and lifts, but it would be entertaining.

  “Well, we better do Beyonce well because she deserves nothing but the best.” Maddy’s expression dropped.

  “What’s wrong?” Y/N turned and saw Nate heading towards them. He was so gorgeous even though he was in a black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair looked perfect for finger-combing and Y/N could just see his muscles flexing with every step he took.

  Y/N could never relax around Nate, even though she tried everything----slowing her breathing, counting backwards from twenty, and imagining him with food poisoning since no one looks good with that. But nothing worked, nothing ever worked, and she was forced to do whatever she could think of in the moment.

   “Hey, Y/N,” Nate greeted.

   “Hi,” Y/N breathed.

   “Maddy,” he looked at her and Maddy rolled her eyes.

   “What?”

   “Are you done stretching? I’m giving you a ride and we can’t be late, remember?”

   “Well, it doesn’t really matter since I always take too f-cking long to get ready.”

   Nate sighed. “Maddy, I didn’t mean it…”

   “I can go,” Y/N volunteered meekly, suddenly very aware that she was still sweaty from practice and needed to shower.

   “No, Y/N, stay,” Maddy said, “stay so you can hear the bullsh-t he comes up with.”

   They argued for about five minutes, all of which Y/N used to make herself as small as possible. She knew they had a dysfunctional relationship and that was the last thing Y/N wanted, she’d seen how they worked. If the couple weren’t arguing with each other, they would rant about the other person to a friend. Maddy did it all the time, but she was nowhere near as bad as Y/N’s dad. Her dad spoke explicitly about Y/N’s mother’s activities when things were really bad. It was always late at night and Y/N was not always sleeping over at someone’s house. Her father would rant for hours and force Y/N to sit there and listen. Whenever she tried to ask him to stop, he would say, “Tell your mother to stop, she did this. I didn’t do anything!”. Y/N cried a lot more than she would let anyone know. She wanted so badly to be whisked away from East Highland, preferably by a tall, handsome prince who would take care of all of her worries. She would be comfortable around him and feel loved. After Maddy and Nate’s argument, Y/N was able to slip away and go home.

  Y/N stepped out of a relaxing shower when she heard the low rumbling that started before every argument. The walls of her room felt closer than usual and she could easily run her hands over the lavender and white checked wallpaper. Everything felt so far away and she felt much smaller than five-foot-nine. Y/N slowly curled into a ball on her bed and shook as the rumbling grew higher.

  “Please stop,” she whispered.

  It persisted.

  “Please, please stop,” she repeated.

  Y/N kept repeating herself for so long that she did not know how long it took before her parents burst into her room. Her mother wrapped her up in arms and rocked her while her dad tried to get her to talk.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked.

  “The fighting, it’s loud,” she whispered.

  “Well, you can’t react like this every time we have an argument, Y/N. You’ll fall apart as an adult,” Mr. Y/L/N affirmed.

   “Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Y/L/N said and kissed her forehead.  

  When they left the room, Y/N felt dejected and uninterested in food. Just as she was about to start lotioning, her phone dinged. It was Maddy.

   Maddy: Football party’s on Friday. UR GOING.

 It wasn’t a difficult decision for Y/N to make. Her parents gave her a generous curfew since Y/N wouldn’t go out every weekend. But her parents didn’t care how she felt so they shouldn’t care about what she did for once. And if they didn’t care, then why should she? It wasn’t like she going to engage in an orgy or something.

   Y/N: You had me at football.

   Scott Callahan’s giant house was filled with smoke and strobing lights on Friday night. People were dancing and drinking half-naked in his front lawn and inside was another kind of pandemonium. There was every kind of expensive alcohol one could imagine scattered throughout the house, marijuana, Percocet, molly, and cocaine. Travis Scott’s “Sicko Mode” was blasting through the surround-sound speakers and people were either dancing, grinding, or making out to it. Y/N arrived at the party with Jules and Rue. Hours prior, Y/N gave Jules free reign to do whatever she wanted with her makeup.

 “Ugh, I have been waiting ever since we met for this moment. No, maybe even before then,” Jules said as she swiped silver glitter around Y/N’s eyes.

  Cassie, Maddy, BB, and Kat already helped Y/N pick out an outfit a day before via Facetime: a shiny silver mini dress with platforms. Y/N had been nervous as Jules helped her do her makeup and put some waves in her shoulder-length dark hair. But the finished product made her look like a totally different person.

  “Is that me?” Y/N had whispered as she stared at herself in the mirror.

  Jules rest her chin on Y/N’s shoulder. “Yes, it is, the shinier version.”

  “You look good, Y/N,” Rue complimented.

  “Thanks, Rue. Are you sure you’re okay with me drinking tonight? I feel so weird and guilty.”

  “Yes, it’s fine,” Rue had insisted. “I just got out of rehab and I don’t wanna go back.”

  “And I don’t want you to, either,” Jules added.

  Y/N agreed.

  Y/N still felt weird about drinking around Rue once they arrived at the party,  but Rue insisted that Y/N and Jules have fun. Several guys stared as Y/N walked past, but that could have been attributed to Jules’ neon green corset dress with matching hair or Rue’s tie-dye ensemble. When they reached the kitchen, they found Kat and BB doing tequila shots. Their eyes lit up at the trio.

  “Finally, you’re here!” Kat hugged Rue, Jules, and Y/N.

 “Did you miss us?” Jules teased.

  “Little bit. You guys want a shot?”

  “I’m DD-ing, or DR-ing since it’s a bike,” Rue said.

  “Or DB-ing, for bicycling,” Y/N added.

  BB poured Jules and Y/N shots and handed them over. They cheered before downing the alcohol. The tequila burned down Y/N’s throat and Y/N fought the urge to cough. She’d had alcohol before but she did not drink as often as her friends. Y/N immediately felt the liquid courage coursing through her as she slid her shot glass towards BB.

  “Another one?” BB arched an eyebrow.

 “Are you complaining?”

 “Not at all, you look hot by the way.”

 “Thanks.”

  “I did her makeup,” Jules said.

 Y/N laughed and continued drinking.

  I watched as her third shot became her fifth, and then Jules made them both screwdrivers and she made them strong. I’d only seen Y/N drunk once and that was at freshman winter formal. Maddy convinced her that Gatorade and Everclear were a good mix. She was tripping over herself for most of the night, so there was no telling what she might do.

 “Crap, I forgot to tell you, Maddy and Nate broke up again,” Kat said.

 “Why?” Y/N asked.

 “Stupid same old bullsh-t, probably,” Rue said.

“Where is Maddy, anyway?”

 “Last I knew, she was outside with Cassie,” BB said.

 Y/N finished her screwdriver. “Let’s go, then.”

 Y/N was surprisingly agile as she weaved her way through the crowd and lead the way outside. Maddy and Cassie were easy to spot since they were standing by the lounge chairs and rolling their eyes at every guy who tried to talk to them.

 “Maddy, Cassie!” Y/N announced.

 They both looked up and smiled at her.

 “Y/N, you look amazing,” Cassie said.

 “Thanks, and you look great as per usual.”

 “You’ve been drinking,” Cassie said.

 Y/N nodded.

 Cassie and Maddy greeted Rue, Jules, Kat, and BB.

 “Hey, I’m sorry about Nate,” Y/N said.

  “It’s fine, I don’t need him and I could get any guy here I want. Besides, it gives me the chance to focus more on getting you a guy,” Maddy said.

  “Oh, Maddy, don’t worry about me.”

  “No, that’s why we’re here. Now, let’s do some shots and scope!”

  The shots were easy but finding a good guy was not. Y/N was officially drunk and giggled a lot whenever the guys Maddy or Cassie found spoke to her. Y/N would push the guys she didn’t like away, which was the majority of them.

 “Alright, you rejected eight dudes, why?” Maddy asked over City Girls’ “Act Up”.

  “Well, one had horrible halitsosissss and another kept talking about how he had never been with a black girl before.”

  “Which one said the last thing?” Cassie asked.

  Y/N shrugged and drank more beer. “Seriously, do not worry about me, guys, I’m fine, I just wanna have fun.”

 “Yes, fun!” an equally inebriated Jules commented.

 At that moment, Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts” started playing and Jules and Y/N screamed in unison.

 “I love this song!” Y/N exclaimed.

 “Me too!” Jules said.

 “Let’s dance!” Y/N turned to the rest of the girls and extended her hand. “You have to join us, it’s Lizzo, it’s basically law.”

 “Yeah, basically law,” Jules echoed.

 The others couldn’t argue, and they all moved to the dancefloor, which was really the living room. Jules twirled Rue around even though Rue was reluctant, and BB started grinding on some basketball player. Meanwhile, Maddy, Cassie, and Y/N alternated between shouting the lyrics and moving their hips to the beat.

 Dance truly set Y/N free, but the song also helped. There was something about Lizzo’s voice and choice of beat that made Y/N want to dance and never stop. She would move her arms and hands and feel more fluid than water. For once, she wasn’t calculating each step and making sure she was on beat, she was simply reacting to the music.

 Towards the end of the song, Y/N muttered that she was going outside to Cassie and slipped away from the circle. Y/N found herself enjoying the fresh air and giggled to herself when she saw a couple going to second base by the pool.

 “Y/N, I didn’t think you was into watchin’ people,” Fez teased.

 He was sitting on a beach chair in a corner a few yards away from the back door. He was wearing a navy, yellow, and red Coogi sweater with jeans. He was fully reclined in his chair and smoking a joint.

 “You don’t know a lot of things about me,” Y/N shot back as she walked towards him.

 She plopped down on the seat across from him and tried to steady herself.

 “You good, Y/N?”

 “Yeah, just drank a lot more than usual.” Y/N eyed Fez’s joint. “You know, in all this time I’ve known you, you’ve never offered me drugs.”

 “No disrespect, I just didn’t think you’d be into it, didn’t seem like the type.”

 “Oh yeah? Then what do I seem like?” Y/N leaned towards Fez and arched her back a little.

 Fez blew some smoke away from Y/N and tried not to stare at her. “You…you look like the type to stay away from this stuff and even me.”

  Y/N laughed and shooed the thought away. “How could I stay away from you, Fez? You have the best snacks at the gas station. Plus, I like talking to you.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah, you have an interesting but simple way of looking at things.”

 Fez looked as though he was thinking for a long moment as he smoked his joint. “I knew I liked you for a reason. You act all quiet and nervous usually but you got a lot to say and say it in a good way.” He extended the joint towards Y/N. “Be careful.”

 Y/N focused as hard as she could to grab the joint with two fingers. She’d only smoked once with Rue and Rue was the one to drag her over to Fezco to get the weed. Y/N remembered coughing a lot, but she knew how to avoid that. She took two long drags before handing the joint back to Fez.

 “Thanks, Fez. We should talk more later.”

 “Sure, if you feelin’ up to it. I’m here all night.”

 Y/N stumbled back into the house, her full intentions to find her friends. Then, she heard the beginning strains of Kanye West’s “Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1” and she smiled to herself. She started spinning around in time to the music, twisting her arms up and down as she did. Her hips began to sway gently to the rhythm. She ran her hands through her hair and exhaled.

 Y/N was lost again and wrapped up in the beat. She usually did not drop low outside of the comfort of her bedroom, but the alcohol mixed with the weed mixed with the great music made her think differently. She was free and everyone else around her was free. There was nothing to worry about and she could let go of her inhibitions. It didn’t matter that none of the guys at the party were her type nor really interested her, she was having too much fun. But little did Y/N know that someone had their eye on her since she started dancing to “Truth Hurts”.

 Y/N felt someone push up against her from behind, followed by hands slink around her hips. Her eyes fluttered open and she covered the large hands with her own. “Sorry, I don’t----" She stopped when she made eye contact with Nate. “I’m high,” she muttered.

 “I don’t know about that, but you’ve definitely been drinking.”

 Y/N tried to ignore the way his gravelly voice made her stomach drop to her heels or how she felt like everything was throbbing. She shook her head and backed away from him. “I can’t…you just broke up with Maddy.”

 “Y/N, please don’t.” Nate looked worried as he took cautious steps towards her.

 Unbeknownst to Y/N, and everyone else, Nate had a fascination with her that bordered on obsession. He noticed her in fourth grade and how much she got excited about reading and history lessons. Even then, Nate thought Y/N was innocent and so quiet. He was curious about her but never really approached her until that day in gym. That day was a godsend so that he could show off how strong he was and get her to talk. All he got was a “Thanks” and “I’m okay”. Nate was disappointed, but he didn’t stop looking out for her. He made sure none of the football players went after her, which McKay appreciated but he thought Nate was doing it as a friend. No, Nate was doing it because he knew that football players were animals and Y/N was high above them. Maddy was too but Maddy was different .She was so much more confident and bold than Y/N was, and she was a virgin when Nate asked her out. But Maddy liked to fight with him and test him and Y/N wouldn’t do that----she was too sweet and would most likely want to resolve everything as quickly as possible. So, she was unofficially his and Y/N had no idea.

 Y/N kept shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes. “I can’t do this, Maddy’s like a sister to me.”

“Y/N, breathe, please.” Nate took another step and when Y/N didn’t move, he got close enough to grab her forearms and rub them soothingly. “You’re allowed to dance with me, all we did was dance.”

 “That was not dancing, I’m a dancer, I would know.” Y/N tilted her head back to will the tears away.

 “You look beautiful, seriously. Don’t cry.” He tried to touch her face, but Y/N backed away.

 “Thank you, but I think we should stop talking.”

 “You always look beautiful, especially when your hair is down, it frames your face nicely.” He brushed some hair off her shoulder.

 “Nate, stop.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

 “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

 “I know you’re doing this to make Maddy jealous, it’s what you always do, it’s the same game!” Y/N cried, but it was masked by the music. “I’m…I’m not going to be your pawn in this weird game, Nate. I deserve better than that.”

 Nate reached out and cupped the side of her face in one hand. “Oh, Y/N, you would never be a pawn and I’m not playing with you. Maddy’s not gonna care if you dance with me, she’s not even here.”

 Y/N glanced around the room and didn’t see Maddy anywhere. She suddenly got a sinking feeling and looked back at Nate. “I’m just not comfortable with doing anything with you, she’s my friend.”

 “And I would never want to ruin that and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable; I just wanted a chance to dance with the prettiest girl at the party.”  

 Y/N snapped her eyes to him. “You think I’m the prettiest girl here?”

 Nate nodded. “But if you don’t want to dance with me…”

 “Fine, one dance.” Y/N held up her pointer finger for emphasis. “And we’re done.”

 “Deal.”

 “Good.”

 The song changed to “One Dance” and Y/N was stiff for a moment. She never really did partner dancing and was lost. Nate sensed this, grabbed one of her hands, and spun her around. She laughed and swiveled her hips to the beat. Nate continued twirling her around and watched Y/N move to the music. When he spun her out again, Nate pulled her back in and held her close. Y/N did everything in her power to fight to gnawing desire to melt into his embrace. He felt so strong and protective. Y/N stared at the collar of his t-shirt to avoid eye contact and kept her hands on his chest.

  “This isn’t fair,” she whispered.

  “What isn’t fair?”   “I’ve had a crush on you since elementary school and the time you decide you want me, it’s just after your break up with one of my best friends.” Y/N buried her head in her hands. “I’m such a bad friend, I should go.”

 Nate held her there and stared her down. “Go and do what?”

 “Um, find my friends.”

“And then what?”

“Dance?”

“Just like you’re dancing with me?”

 “No, not this close and you know that.” Y/N stepped back. “We should stop.”

 “But, you said you’ve liked me for a long time.”

 “I did, but I want to be a good friend. I’m sorry, Nate.”

Y/N really didn’t want to, but she pulled away from Nate. She couldn’t believe she’d spent a whole song dancing so close with her friend’s ex. Maddy would kill her if she found out. Maybe if Y/N told her first, things would not be as bad.

“If we can’t dance, can we at least talk?”

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly.

Nate grabbed her hand and led her upstairs. A few coked out people and couples pushed past them and Y/N felt more and more nervous. They found an empty bedroom and Nate closed the door behind them. The room was dark and Y/N found a light.

 “So, what did you want to talk about?” she made herself comfortable on the bed.

Nate sat next to her and clasped his hands together. “Things with Maddy and me have always been f-ckin’ crazy and they will always be. She always wants to fight when there shouldn’t be a fight.”

“If you wanted to complain to someone about your ex, you could have found someone who wasn’t her friend.”

 “Stop, what I’m saying is I don’t like it, it’s exhausting, and…and we bring out the worst in each other. But you, I don’t think you would do that to me.” He glanced down at Y/N’s hands. “You’re kind and you want the best for everyone.”

 “I try.”

“You would never want to hurt anyone on purpose and you listen, you really listen, and I feel like I could tell you anything.”

 Y/N nodded.

 “The truth is, I’ve liked you since fourth grade too, but I never asked you out because you seemed disinterested.”

 “How’d you get that?”

 “Whenever I tried to talk to you, you wouldn’t talk and I thought that meant you didn’t like me. So, I started going out with Maddy because she was clear about that, but now, I think we could be something.”

 “Just like that? But what about my friends? Maddy and I have the same friends and I don’t want to hurt Maddy.”

“You can make new friends and you’ll have me.” Nate leaned closer to Y/N. “C’mon, Y/N, you know you want this. You’re always thinking of other people, be selfish for once.”

 In that strange bedroom, with the guy she had been crushing on for so long begging her to do something to him, Y/N was at an impasse. She loved Maddy like a sister and didn’t want to divide the group, but Nate was making so many good points. The only reason she did well in school was to please her parents and the only reason she would go out was to please her friends. She didn’t do anything to please herself and this was her chance.

Nate leaned closer to Y/N and looked up at her for confirmation. Y/N closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of Nate’s lips against hers. They were slightly chapped but he knew how to use them, applying pressure in the right places at the right times. His hands went to her waist and Y/N wrapped hers around his neck. He slid her into his lap and Y/N gasped.

 “Did I scare you?” he whispered.

 “A little,” Y/N murmured.

 He rubbed her sides and kept kissing her, adding tongue. Y/N shyly tapped her tongue against his and he smirked into it. He rolled his hips underneath her and Y/N gasped at the shocking feeling, pulling away.

 “Does it feel good?”

 Y/N nodded.

 “Say it.”

 “Yes.”

 “Yes, what?”

 “Yes, it feels good.”

 Nate nipped at her neck and Y/N moaned out, grinding down on him. Nate’s hands tensed around her hips. “You’re so hot,” he whispered in her ear.

 Y/N laughed.

 “Seriously, I’ve thought about what this would be like, what we would be like.”

 “And?”

 “And, so far, it’s better than I thought.” He kissed down to her collarbone and palmed her chest. “I’ve thought about these.”  “Really? But they’re so small.”

 “No, they’re just right.” He bit the base of her neck and Y/N hissed. “I’ve also thought about your legs, how they distract me during practice when you guys are outside. They’re so soft but firm.”

  Nate kissed her again and pinned her on the bed. Y/N gasped as she felt one of Nate’s hands trail up her dress. Her mind was jumbled up and she didn’t know what to think. Everything he did felt so good, he knew just where to kiss and nip. He looked at her with full-blown lust in his eyes. Maybe Y/N had finally found the prince she’d been waiting for, but he was always there.

 Then, his hand went a little too high. She squirmed and shook her head.

 “Nate, that’s a little too much.”

 “What?”

 “I said it’s a little too much,” she repeated louder.

 “I thought you liked it, don’t you want this? Isn’t this what you’ve always thought about?” Nate tangled his hand in her underwear.

 “Nate, stop, I don’t want to do this.”

 “You weren’t acting that way earlier.”

 “Nate, please, stop.”

 “You don’t want me to stop.”

 “Yes, I do, please!”

  Y/N tried to push him away but Nate pinned her down. He rolled his hips into hers and Y/N turned away, tears falling down her cheeks.

 “Do you feel how much I want you? I’d do just about anything to have you.”

 “Nate, stop!”

 “Shut up!” Nate growled.

 One of his hands let go of her wrist and wrapped around her neck. He had a death grip on her neck and Y/N started gasping for air.

 “Don’t pretend like you didn’t want this? Like you weren’t dancing on me, begging for it? You were jealous that Maddy got me whenever she wanted. You wanted me all for yourself just like I want you.”

  Y/N wanted to scream at him, tell him he was wrong about everything, but was he? When Maddy talked about sex with him, Y/N would feel pangs of guilt and jealousy for wanting to trade places with her. Most of all, she wanted Nate to get off her. She wanted Nate to leave her alone forever. When she looked at him, the sweet fourth grade boy was gone and replaced by a full grown monster. Why was she getting monsters when she wanted princes? What did she do to deserve this?

  Nate unzipped his jeans and tears kept flowing down Y/N’s face, ruining Jules’ masterpiece. He kept his eyes trained on her and Y/N was losing oxygen, she couldn’t think to move any of her muscles. Just as he was about to push in her, someone banged on the door.

 “Occupied!” Nate yelled over his shoulder.

 “Whatever.”

 Nate turned back and looked down at Y/N, shaking and crying. He leaned down and whispered, “Don’t make a sound.”  He released his grasp on her neck and pinned her wrists again. Y/N’s throat felt numb and she couldn’t do anything. She inhaled through her nose and before Nate could thrust, she took gathered all her strength to knee him. Nate groaned and rolled onto his side, releasing her wrists. Y/N scrambled to her feet, unlocked the door, and ran outside. People in the hallway looked at her bewildered. Y/N nearly fell down the stairs and ran into Rue.

 “Y/N, what happened?” she asked.

 Y/N gasped for a moment before burying her face in Rue’s shoulder and crying, full-on, heaving, shoulder-shaking crying. Rue held her close and ran her hands through her hair. “Nate,” was the only word she managed to get out.

 Before Rue could only see Red, Fez approached them. “Hey, I’m about to head out if you wanted a ride. What’s up?”

 “I think Nate tried to do something to Y/N,” Rue whispered. “Y/N, could you look at me?”

 Y/N straightened up and Rue and Fezco saw the handprints around her neck. Both of their expressions hardened.

 “Where’s Maddy, Cassie, and Jules?” Rue asked.

 “Right here,” Maddy said as they approached. Her eyes widened at Y/N. “Y/N, what the f-ck happened?”

 Y/N swallowed but winced at the feeling. “Nate tried to rape me,” she rasped out.

 In an instant, Fez and Rue handed Y/N over to Cassie, Maddy, and Jules. Y/N collapsed in their arms and continued crying.

 “Honey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Cassie said.

 “Breathe, Y/N, you need to breathe,” Jules muttered.

  “I’m so sorry, Maddy, I’m so sorry,” Y/N said.

  “No, don’t apologize,” Maddy insisted, stroking Y/N’s hair.

  They cleared a couch for Y/N to rest and they continued trying to comfort her. A few seconds later, Nate came tumbling down the stairs, with Rue and Fezco on his heels. Rue was cursing at him while Fezco laid more punches on him. Nate’s face was already bruised and scratched up.

 “It’s not my fault!” Nate spat out. “I told you, she came onto me, she’s been in love with me since fourth grade, she wanted this! Maddy, Y/N’s a bad friend, that’s not my fault.”

 “Don’t even talk to me right now or I swear, Rue and Fezco will have to keep me from killing you,” Maddy hissed.  

 “I’m a bad friend,” Y/N whimpered.

 “No, you’re not,” Maddy, Cassie, and Jules said.

 “I liked him a lot, even when you dated, I liked him and then he…he came onto me, maybe I deserved it.”

 “Y/N, no one deserves to get raped, no one, you did not ask for this,” Jules assured her.

  Y/N turned to lay face up. “Why does everything hurt so much? I just wanted someone to like me since loving me is asking for too much.”

  “No, it’s not,” Cassie hushed.

  “And we love you,” Maddy said.

  “I love you the most,” Jules said.

 Y/N smiled slightly. “But you know what I mean.”

 Y/N loved her friends and appreciated their love, but she wanted the fairytale. She’d convinced herself that maybe she would get some idea of that with Nate but she was so wrong. She wanted the dream and got a nightmare. It was a terrible f-cking way to learn how real life works, but it had to happen. Besides, we’re in high school and the love Y/N truly wanted was impossible to find in high school, especially East Highland. Y/N ended up pressing charges on Nate and that encouraged Maddy to open up about stuff he’d done to her during their relationship. Everything is different with Y/N now, I can see it in her eyes, they aren’t as bright as they used to be. Before the stuff with her mom, they would shimmer and after that, some glints remained. Now, it was like looking in a dark hole and I could guess what she was feeling since I’ve been in that place too----in fact, I’m still in it. I think the saddest part is she always had so much optimism and now it’s gone before she’s twenty and I don’t think she’ll get it back.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 10 || Upgraded

Charlotte was extremely excited about Henry’s advancement results. He was now featured on Hero Tracks, and she was THE FIRST person to follow him! Hero Tracks was one of her favorite forms of social media. Hero Tracks (while mentioned before, hasn’t been explained, so… let’s).

Hero Tracks served as a progress and news tracker for your favorite heroes. General updates were for the public, but if you follow a hero, you get more updates and if you’re on the friends list, you get to see their own posts, read DETAILS that they would trust friends with. 

Charlotte generally followed and friended every hero that she met. Henry wasn’t previously on Hero Tracks, because he thought that sidekicks with tracks were lame. “Their hero has a page that has AND and features them. Getting a separate account is try hard,” he told her. So, whenever the Hero League reported his results to him, (which also gets sent to Charlotte, simultaneously), she posted his account from the Tower, followed the account, and congratulated him. Shortly afterwards, Max sent a friend request, which she accepted on Henry’s behalf, and Max also congratulated Henry, “Good  going! Hope this means you’ll move out soon!” She laughed and shook her head. She actually wanted the two of them to possibly work together at some point… and she wished that maybe they could train together. She nonchalantly dropped these desires to both of them at different times, subtly. Max definitely took it in. Henry shot her down.

But. A few days later, Henry received a message from the Hero League.

“I can’t believe my life,” Henry said, disappointed.

Charlotte glanced over and wondered, “What’s happened?” He shoved his phone to her and she read, then cheered, “Max is gonna be your Hero League appointed mentor and trainer?!? Lucky you!” She gave him the phone back with a huge smile. “I’m so proud of this.”

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

“I told Max the same things that I told you and I guess he cared, because that message says that he personally requested this… and Henry… That is remarkable. He’s got global hero status. Henry… This could rocket your hero career.”

He sighed. He knew these things. He still didn’t like it. This meant that he sort of would have to report to Max… and… he still worked for Captain Man. When would he have PEACE, in this arrangement? He groaned and left her workspace to go call Jasper and complain to him about it. HE’D offer some type of empathy for Henry’s plight.

.

Honestly, it wasn’t bad being under Max’s mentorship and training. Henry found that even though he hated being around him casually, Max was pretty professional and patient with teaching him stuff. Sometimes, Henry could see in his expressions that he thought Henry should know more and was silently judging him for it. But, the one time that he brought it up, Max corrected him by saying, “I’m actually judging Captain Man. It’s almost like he never wanted you to take over for him… or maybe Swellview is too small for your talents. That’s also possible. Hiddenville was definitely too small for mine, and you’re under my wings now, so… your possibilities broaden.” Max gave him a sincere smile, then clapped his hands once and said, “Back to acrobatics lessons!”

Max was… a brilliant fighter! Henry was super impressed with his abilities, agility, and versatility. And, he wouldn’t say it yet, but he was truly grateful for the opportunity to work so closely with him. Also, he was seeing Max a lot differently. Whenever he was satisfied with Henry’s training progress, he said that he would select assignments to bring him on. ASSIGNMENTS. With SuperMax! Henry was not going to fanboy over it… openly. He just wanted to work hard, prove himself, and venture on those opportunities.

.

Piper decided a get together was in order, because since Henry began training with Max, he hadn’t been in Swellview as much. Hero League business took precedence over Swellview business and Max refuted several of Captain Man’s refusals to let Henry off for various reasons. Max’s requests took precedence. Captain Man was definitely pissed, but Piper missed her brother and friends. Charlotte hadn’t felt the same about Piper since she joined the team and started acting like the guys, but she still hung out with her whenever she got a chance, out of nostalgia for the kid that she used to love and Girl Code. Definitely didn’t make it a priority or effort, though.

There they were, all being at least civil and Piper suggested that they play “Sex, Kill Marry” or whatever the heck it was called. Charlotte rolled her eyes and listened to various requests and answers, from names that Piper spouted out.

Jasper thought for a moment, during his turn, “Hmmm… I guess I’d marry Timothy Chalamet, screw Matthew Daddario, and have to kill Dylan Minnette. (Only because I just don’t love him like the other two…)”

Henry complained, “I HATE THIS GAME. UGH. F word China McClain, K word Selena Gomez, marry Daisy Riddle.”

Piper told him, “That’s not even her name!”

Henry wasn’t to be deterred or have this lengthened. “That’s my answer! This is weird enough to play with my sister involved.”

So, when it was Charlotte’s turn and Piper said, “These three!” And she pointed at the three dudes in then room.

Max raised an eyebrow and gave her an amused glance. Charlotte was extremely surprised. “Everybody else got celebrities!” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m much more curious about this,” Piper said, waving her finger between Charlotte and the guys..

Charlotte reached for her wine tumbler and took a sip. Wow. Ugh. She hated this game too. “Well, Jasper… I love you and all, and it’s been real, but…”

“Kill ME???” Jasper completed the thought. “Why???”

“Well… because my brain just can’t fathom any scenario in which either of the other options could happen,” She shrugged her shoulders and took another drink.

He sank in the couch and Piper reminded him, “Henry will marry you.“

Henry scoffed, "I’m marrying Daisy Riddle.”

“RIDLEY!” Charlotte and Piper both snapped. Then, Piper sighed and looked back to Charlotte.

“With enough wine, I guess Henry gets laid..” she took another sip of wine and Max tried not to smile as big as he wanted to.

Henry on the other hand jumped up, “Do you realize that means you’d choose to marry MAX?"

"I’m glad you said it so I don’t have to,” Charlotte said and stared into her wine glass.

“I’d like to hear you say it,” Max said and smiled at her. She fought a smile of her own and avoided his gaze. They hadn’t been together long enough to even have a conversation about this, so it was SUPER awkward. They hadn’t even… gone very far intimately or officially told their friends about them. As far as everyone was concerned, they were still playing the “will they, won’t they” game. And now Piper’s little messy ass brings this mess in front of everyone, including Max.

“Why do I have to die, but Max gets married?” Jasper asked, breaking into her stressful thoughts.

“Yep,” Charlotte said, relieved for the interruption of her overthinking.

“What?” Jasper asked the sky.

“Huh?” Charlotte asked him.

“Why? You barely know him and what we do know is that he was a teenage villain and I know we can’t prove it, but I’m reasonably sure he stranded me and Henry on that boat!”

“I was at a party all night with Charlotte,” Max said. She nodded her head, making eye contact with him for the first time since her answer, but she quickly looked away.  He squeezed her knee, then turned his attention back to Jasper. “And I can’t believe that the “why” isn’t obvious.” He began to count his qualities on his fingers for Jasp, “I’m a genius. I have great hair. Muscles. Superpowers. A jet. I can fight, dance, award winning skills in a variety of areas, I’m beautiful and handsome, at the same time…”

“You rock a pair of gray sweatpants like nobody else in the world,” Jasper added, seeing Max’s points.

“Like… everyone here should want to marry me,” Max finished off.

"He’s not humble, but he’s correct,” Charlotte said.

“Thank you for admitting that my hair and muscles have value,” he teased her.

“Wait…” When she  looked up; he winked at her and she felt her face warm from a combination of realizing that the person that was just described was… hers (and wine). This was an even more impressive catch than her ex! She smiled at him.

“You’re equally as intelligent as me and I’d be honored to be your hypothetical husband. Imagine our hypothetical offspring!” Max cheered in excitement. He… really could see himself with Charlotte for the long haul and talking about it, even hypothetically… made it more realistic for him.

And she played along, too. “They would have to be intelligent. That’s just genetics. Obviously, they’d be gorgeous. We both have stunning features, good health, perfect teeth, amazing hair…” he just nodded to everything that she said. “Wow. I really chose well. Imagine if I had answered out of loyalty!” They both laughed.

“Jasper’s rocks for brains babies. Henry’s pick any feature and I’ll pick it apart…” Henry and Jasper grimaced at Max’s insults.

“You’re so rude,” she giggled.

“You love it,” he said and winked.

She nodded. “Can’t deny that.“

“Come here for a sec,” he said and pulled her into his lap. She laughed and he kissed her on the neck, “I would have collapsed this entire house if you said anything else.”

“That doesn’t give me confidence in my choice! You’d better not give our hypothetical kids a temper!”

“Temper? I’M not the one with the temper to give them.” He kissed her neck again and she just reveled in it. They hadn’t been this openly affectionate, but she was feeling good and he had the best neck kisses.

“Are you two still talking hypothetical kids?” Henry asked.

“Are you saying that I’M the one with the temper?” Charlotte asked in a low voice, not paying attention to Henry’s question or Piper taking a sneak pic of them.

“You’re the more aggressive of the two of us,” he said.

Jasper let out an extremely loud sigh of relief. “OKAY! So, I had to die because you two are actually officially doing the thing. Okay. I feel better.”

Henry frowned. He didn’t feel better. He knew that there was something between the two of them, but he guessed that he didn’t think it would get to this level… The seeing his second boss kissing his best friend’s neck… He… didn’t care for that. Max squeezed Charlotte and rested on her shoulder. They were having their own little conversation while Piper was posting their photo and asking how many people knew that they were official.

“This bitch is so messy,” Henry heard Charlotte whisper (about his sister, which he didn’t appreciate, but he knew that he was probably more irritated with Charlotte for being with Max).

Was that why he was mentoring him? TO please his girlfriend? He really… didn’t see anything special in Henry, Henry began to convince himself. Did he even mean the encouraging shit he’d said to him during training, or was he just being nice to score p***y points?  Henry got up and asked, “Jasp, Piper, want anything?” Charlotte noted that he didn’t ask her and Max, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She could talk to him later about it. She was enjoying this… openness.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳29

Pairing: Zuko x OC

AU: Adult-Verse

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 7300+

Notes: A huge thank you for all of the support and love I have gotten! It’s heartwarming, and I do appreciate it. Don’t be shy to leave a comment, like, or reblog; and we’ll meet again next week :)

Masterlist ︳ 28 2/2  ︳ 30 [M]

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person. The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Toska

(Russian/n.) A dull, aching of the soul; tremendous spiritual anguish.

 ~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

             It took all the willpower in the world to not throw the damn ice spear at Zuko’s head and aim at Azula’s hand instead. I swore under my breath, hearing her shriek of agony - I missed.

             The spear cut through the air, lodging itself into the burnt ground in front of her. The sharp piece of ice grazed her hand, halting her movement and the sparks of lightning that were emerging from her fingertips. I let out a sigh of relief; Sokka says I’m the one who needs to be babysat.

            Azula gripped her hand to her chest, scarlet running down her wrist, contrasting against her porcelain skin. She’s going to have a nice scar from that - I was sure of it.

            With a snap of my wrist, I rose my hand, letting the water that I gathered pool up my arm, forming another spear. I was already mentally preparing for Azula to revolt. She didn’t exactly seem like the forgiving type. My eyes narrowed, analyzing her posture, but Sokka’s voice cut the tension in my muscles.

            “Princess!”

            Sokka and Aang gazed up at me with looks that cried relief, Sokka cheering far too loudly for a man who just cheated death. But despite their sincere smiles and exuberance, my eyes lined up with Zuko’s. A mixture of appreciation and panic seeping into those soul retching orbs.

            The pink lips that I grew to love parted as he did a double-take – and as much as I wanted to strangle that man, I let out a breath of relief. He’s okay; he’s safe. That means I get the honour of kicking his ass when we get home. Oh the anger that ran through my blood at the moment, I pitied Azula, since she was going to get the brunt of it.

            “Just the person I was waiting for.” Azula hissed, raising her injured hand mockingly. I gave her a cunning smile, tilting my head to the side as I observed the wound. Her fingers took most of the damage, cutting the skin and a bit of frostbite emerging.

            “Some aim you got there.” Azula complimented, although there wasn’t a hint of sincerity in her statement.

            “Hmm, not good enough. I was aiming for your wrist.” I responded, earning a sadist grin from Azula.

            “You’re not as weak as I thought you were Imperial Consort Ying Yue. You’re a feisty one, isn’t she Zuzu?” she purred, licking her lips while with playful eyes.

            Seeing her with Zuko, I could see the resemblance.

            Besides the obvious; they had this confident presence to them.

            It was overwhelming being in a room alone with Zuko, let alone the new addition of Azula. They gave off this aurora of power and royalty. Even the way she stood; it reminded me of Zuko to a tee. Eyes were scanning, seeking, preparing for anything. It was like they never rested, always on their toes, and that was what made them as notorious as they were.

            Expect, one of them is celebrated for the good they achieved, while the other chose the latter.

            “Leave her alone, Azula.” Zuko scowled, stepping forward. I could tell from the way his shoulders squared, cracking his fingers with narrowed eyes, Zuko was starting to get aggravated. Aang stepped forward, hand resting on his shoulder, preventing him from moving forward, “Zuko – somethings not right-”

            Zuko looked over his shoulder, nodding at Aang’s statement.

            Aang was right; it was…odd.

            Why would Azula attack Sokka and Aang by herself? She’s outnumbered, and she should’ve known that we would’ve noticed, gone to help. Azula rolled her eyes towards Aang, but Aang brushed off the gesture without a second thought.

            My eyes studied Aang, and I frowned.

            He looked beat, deep under circles and skin pale. It was as if he hadn’t slept for days, and at that moment, I gazed over at Sokka. He also looked fatigued, almost fragile. They really did travel here non-stop, not resting once. They can’t fight like that; they’re exhausted-

            “Zuko; we need to get Aang and Sokka out of here.” I blurted, putting aside my distaste for Zuko at the moment. He twisted on his heel, turning to face me. But before he could mutter a word, Azula cut him off, eyes focused on me. “Not so fast. You think you can come here, injury me, and walk off?” She snarled.

            Azula lifted her uninjured hand, letting her fingertips rest upon her battered fingers. “Next time, Ying Yue, make sure you hit your target. Then I wouldn’t’ve been able to do this.”

            She isn’t. There’s no way she would-

            Azula’s fingertips ghosted over the long gashes that decorated her hand, her fingers glowing over the wounds. I winced, the smell of burning flesh fluttering into the air. She was cauterizing her wounds, stopping the bleeding. But what impressed me the most was that Azula didn’t bat an eyelash at the pain.

            Her skin darkened, browning and hardening, and I couldn’t help but think back to Zuko. Remembering the scars that ran along his arms, torso, and legs, they were raised as well. I knew the injuries were old battle wounds, but it didn’t occur to me once that it was because he cauterized them during battle. A quick fix to a bad injury, a bandage until you can get the proper medical attention.

            Sokka’s face scrunched up at Azula, stepping back into the tree line that was a mere footstep away. That’s right, why was Sokka running that way anywho? And where are the guards that Zuko had with him? As sneaky as Sokka tried, Azula spotted him shuffling away. Her legs bent, ready to chase, but I moved faster.

            My hand gripped the spear tightly, swinging my body forward with as much force I could muster. The spear glided out of my hand at a sharp angle, flying through the sky effortlessly. “DOWN,” I cried, and Zuko and Aang crouched in the nick of time.

            The ice flew over their heads, skimming their hair and landing right in front of Azula’s feet. Dirt shot upwards, piercing the ground and halting her movements.

            “Thanks, Princess, I promise I’ll give you a giant hug and cookies~!” Sokka shouted, and I scoffed. Even in battle, Sokka is still Sokka.

            I stepped over the edge, falling onto the chard ground before sprinting to where Zuko and Aang were stooped in surprise. “Were you trying to kill us?” Aang huffed, although he still wore a silly smile. I shot him a coy grin, shrugging my shoulders, “I wasn’t trying to hit you, although I can’t say the same about Zuko...”

            “Oh, come on- you can’t seriously be mad-”

            “We can talk about it when we get home.” I snapped.

            Zuko frowned, straightening his back as he stalked his way towards me, “I did what I had to do.” He spoke, the tone he used far too stern for my liking.

            “Oh, did you, Fire Lord Zuko? Lying to me, leaving me behind?” I snuffled, challenging that authoritative tone of his. Zuko sucked in a breath, trying not to lose his shit at the moment. “Cut me some damn slack Yue!” Zuko shouted, and I puffed, “Cut you some slack? I swear Zuko you-”

            In a flash, Aang ran in front of us.

            He spun his wooden staff between his hands effortlessly; knees bent as blue flames dispersed around us. Sweat beaded down his forehead, looking over his shoulder with a frown, “I’m sorry for interrupting your lover’s quarrel, but a little help would be much appreciated.” Aang huffed, Azula not letting up her assault.

            “Take care of Aang; I got this.” I blurted, sprinting forward. Zuko lunged to grasp my arm, his fingertips brushing my skin as I ran, “Babe, no! Your bending-”

            “I don’t need my bending for this-” I hissed, and slid underneath Aang’s staff.

            The dirt and ash from the ground rubbed against my legs, while the heat from Azula’s flames had my skin heating up. In a flash, I found myself underneath her outstretched arms, watching the way her muscles tensed with power.

            Azula looked taken aback, realizing that I was a few inches away from her. I shot her a cheeky grin before lunging upwards, thrusting my knee into her gut. Her infamous blue flames halted, stumbling backwards, gasping for air. She held her stomach in pain, shooting daggers at me, “You really think you can win without bending?”

            “At this rate – yes.” Her eyes widen at the insult as I dove once again. I punched without much effort, letting her arms rise to block the attack, and with a twist of my body, swung my leg high.

            My foot kicked the side of her head, Azula faltering at the impact.

            “You’re a Firebender prodigy – there’s no denying that, but nobody’s perfect.” I huffed, straightening out my arms in front of me. Everyone had a weakness; while I may be superior in combat, my healing skills were utter trash. It would only make sense that Azula’s combat skills weren’t as sharp as her Firebending – and I plan on exploiting that factor.

            Azula wiped the blood that trickled down her forehead with the back of her hand; lips pressed thin. “You’re wrong,” She hissed under her breath before advancing, “I’m perfect.”

            She moved gracefully, light on her feet, almost like air itself.

            Her arm sprang frontward, and with a swift lean, I effortlessly dodged the burst of flames that fluttered from her fingers. There was something fascinating in the way she fought; a sharp contrast to Zuko.

            While Zuko was undeniable smooth, powerful and strategic; Azula was beyond your average acrobatic. Her flexibility gave her an edge, continually shifting her weight between punches. I twisted my torso back, letting a flicker of fire soar past me before running forward. And it was watching Azula move, dancing side to side that I started to notice – she’s getting tired.

            While her technique was without fault, fast to attack and shooting spontaneous bursts of flames, it cost in stamina. Her constant need to release small eruptions while moving on her toes had her chest rising and falling quicker than I had expected. Her sharp ponytail began loosening while we twirled, her tough demeanour wavering.

            I winced slightly under my breath, pins and needles starting to tingle up my limbs. Between this morning training with Zuko, passing out, and now this – I was pushing my body, and I was starting to feel the effects. While my old self would’ve been breezing away, I was tired. I wasn’t used to this anymore, and as she nailed another kick on my thigh, I frowned. The bruises I was going to get after this, just my luck.

            My positioning switched, no longer being on the offensive side, playing safe and letting her tire herself out. And she didn’t let that change go unnoticed, smirking as her attacks suddenly got stronger.

            “I’ll give you credit Ying Yue, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not fond of you – I think my dear brother can do much better. Don’t you think Zuzu?” I jumped as she swung her leg, nearly burning my feet. And it was while I was jumping my gaze wavered, looking back at Zuko and Aang.

            Aang was sitting down on the ground, Zuko in front of him, shirtless. My eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what in the world was happening, but it didn’t take long. Zuko was crouched over Aang; his shirt ripped into shreds as he wrapped it tightly over Aang’s forearms. Aang burnt himself trying to block Azula’s flames earlier; I didn’t notice-

            “Focus on me, darling, or else I’ll go against the plan and kill you now.”

            Against plan? Azula pushed forward, my feet stumbling at the sudden movement. So entranced with making sure Aang and Zuko were alright I lost focus, and Azula wasn’t going to let that opportunity go to waste.

            My feet tangled themselves, gasping as I found myself wobbling side to side. Azula’s arms raised high into the air with a bounce, blue flames swirling as she came crashing down, and without thinking twice, I bent.

            The ice from the spears dissipated, water hurdling towards me, and right before Azula could land her flames; a shield of ice formed. The sheer force of her flames pounding above me had me dropping down on one knee. And as Azula watched with a look of disbelief, her flames evaporating into a mist, I pounced.

            My arms outstretched, water flinging forward and Azula mimicked my movements. Flickers of fire started to emerge from her hands, and in a risky move, I rushed to her – head-on. Azula’s brows furrowed together watching how I foolishly ran to her, and with an unanticipated twist, I let my fingers wrap around her wrists.

            Her skin was hot to touch, sweltering as I kept my grip firm. I bit my lip in discomfort, and with a squeeze, water rushed down my arms and encased our hands together. The flickers of fire that were starting to build in her grasp vanished and the burning sensation from touching her skin eased.

            Azula snarled under her breath, trying desperately to tug her arms out of the encasement, but I held my grip, the water preventing much movement on her end. And as I prepared to attack once again, black spots flooded my vision.

            My nails dug into her skin without much care, as the ground underneath me started spinning, a wave of nausea overcoming me. I puffed in pain as I forced myself to keep the water that tied us together stable. I can’t do this much longer-

            With a large intake of air, I kicked forward, letting the water tumble to the ground as she flew backwards. Her shoulders were slumped over as she fought to gain her balance after being shoved; while I struggled to stand. I could hear her fast breathing in the distance, but I rapidly lost focus. I feel so sick-

            My eyes shut closed as my hands cupped my head in pain. Gosh, it feels like Toph is hurling rocks at my head, cold chills running up my back. My knees buckled, and I groaned. Not now, not now-

            “I got you, babe.”

            A pair of arms wrapped around my body, hands falling over my own. The cold chills that ran down my spine disappeared, as he pressed me against his chest.

            “Zuko~.” I gasped, struggling to even out my breathing, wheezing. His fingers intertwined with mine, squeezing me against him.

            “Just breathe, follow my lead.” Zuko cooed into my ear, and I felt his chest rising and falling from behind me. My fingers cuddled his, trying to match his pace. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale-

            “That’s it, babe, slow and steady,” Zuko whispered.

            My body stopped trembling, hearing his soothing coos of encouragement. The ground finally felt steady, no longer moving and the wave of nausea easing off. Our breathing was in sync, sighing in relief as the throbbing in my head stopped - relief.

            My eyes fluttered open, gaining footing and no longer letting Zuko hold me for dear life. Azula stood in front of us, catching her breath as she scrutinized the way Zuko embraced me from behind.

            “Thank you.” I hummed, letting my body lax for a split moment. “Hate me as much as you want; I’ll still love you,” Zuko muttered under his breath, and I smiled softly. Gosh - I don’t hate you, you hard-headed dimwit, I’m just mad-

             “Good; so when I kill her, it’ll leave an ever-lasting impression.” Azula sneered towards us. In a flash, our bodies tensed, Zuko pushing me behind him in one fluid movement. But before she could utter another word, she was abruptly cut off.

            “How the legendary Fire Nation Princess has fallen. You call yourself a prodigy, yet she managed to tire you with only half her strength. Pathetic.” A voice taunted from behind her.

            The voice echoed in the barren space where we stood, a voice that was oddly familiar to my ears. It was deep, rough, almost strained as each word the man spoke felt heavy. Why do I recognize that voice?

            Azula stiffened in her spot, face red with infuriation as she twisted on her heel. “What are you doing here?” she snarled to someone behind her, hands balled into fists. Her composure, it was flattering entirely.

            “Doing your job; since you’re clearly incompetent of such a task.” The man snapped back.

            Who is this person? Why do I know that voice-

            I slipped past Zuko, running off to the side to sneak a peek around Azula – curiosity getting the better of me. Zuko swore under his breath, ready to pull me back as my arm slithered through his grip. “Yue, your damn curiosity is going to get us killed!” Zuko protested, but his voice trailed off as he saw the evident look of shock on my face.

            A towering man stood along the tree line, his figure looming over us and casting a monstrous shadow. It was as if nature itself could feel the menacing presence of his; the area around us vacant of all sound; no birds chirping or bushes rustling in the wind.

            And just like the first time we met, I gasped, awe-struck by those piercing blue eyes; void of all life. It can’t be- it can’t be him. As if the strange man could feel my gaze falling over him, his head tilted to the side, shooting me a spiteful grin, “Here to give back my handkerchief, little girl?”

            “Why?” I gasped, stepping forward, shaking my head in disbelief.

            Seeing him in the daylight, strolling headfirst as he cracked his fingers, one by one, made the hairs on my arms stand. He couldn’t be the same man from the beach; he couldn’t. The man on the beach was sweet; he comforted me.

            “I told you. One Day. That’s it.” He spoke, voice smooth as if he was trying to ease my nerves. As if the words he said justified everything that was happening. It was his birthday that day, that’s why he said he was good — that sick bastard.

            My hands dropped to my side, rage pumping. I trusted him; I let him in; he took advantage of me. “So you’re the one who planned this?” I cried. He almost hurt all those children, Kiyi; I’m going to kill him-

            “Yue stop!” Zuko shouted, grabbing my arms tightly, pressing my body against his.

            The man grinned chillingly towards Zuko, those thin lips of his pulling back. “Still with that boyfriend of yours, little girl?” With each word he stepped closer, brushing past Azula without a care in the world.

            “Who are you?” I yelled back, Zuko struggling to keep me still.

            My limbs thrashed under his unwavering grip, swearing under his breath at my unrelenting movement. Azula watched in astonishment at the conversation that transpired between us, an amused smile on her face, “You don’t know?”

            “I’ll give you a hint; rumours say he’s a Bloodbender, doesn't need a full moon. Aren’t you curious to know if that’s true?” Azula purred, and I felt my stomach in my throat. Zuko’s fingers dug into my skin; his breathing paused as he pressed his lips against my ear, “Run.”

            Zuko wasn’t pleading or asking – it was an order.

            I could hear the fear in his voice.

            The conversation between Zuko and the Earth King, the rebels, all led by one man; this is Yakone. The ruthless man who killed hundreds upon hundreds, the man who nobody could seem to capture, let alone see in person and live to speak of it.

            I could hear Aang stumbling his way to us, wincing at the pain in his arms. “Everyone leave, I’m going into the Avatar state-”

            “No Aang, you’re exhausted, you’ll hurt yourself.” I panicked, he’s going to push himself to the limit, but the look on Aang’s face was different from that friendly expression I adore. His face was stern, and despite the burns that lay on his forearms, he stood with Zuko.

            The grip on my arms loosened, Zuko pushing me behind him, eyes begging for me to run. But my feet stayed glued to the ground, trembling at the realization of the situation.

            Yakone chuckled as he watched the panic look Zuko and Aang wore, an expression I never thought I would see paint their faces. “What’s wrong? It’s only rumoured.” Yakone teased with a final step.

            His soulless blue eyes stared past Aang and Zuko, lining up with mine.

            I could feel my heart stop - as if time stood still. Yakone bore a sinister grin on his face before whispering, each word directed to me, and me alone.

            “I’m going to kill them the same way I killed Kayto.”

            His hands moved in front of his chest vertically, his stubby fingers beginning to curve. Every joint in his digits began twisting and contorting, movements that I was all too familiar with - Bloodbending.

            I squeezed my way past Zuko and Aang, their cries falling upon deaf ears.

            My hands swept the ground, drawing whatever moisture I could that was around us.

            The ground crumbled underneath our feet, untouched foliage began to rot, and the air was heavy to breathe.

            Black spots flooded my vision, body feeling numb as I bent with all my power -  body screaming for me to stop, but I pushed. I could die here, right now, but not them. I rose my hands upwards with fists, the water that began to pool around us, shooting in the air into frozen pillars.

            The ice began to frost, a wall of ice linking pillar to pillar. Yakone’s eyes widen at my movement and the speed at which the walls started to enclose around us. His fingers stopped curving, dropping to his sides as he watched the last window of opportunity freezing before him.

            Darkness fell over us in seconds, the walls of ice looming above, only sparse flickers of sunlight penetrating the thick walls.

            I dry heaved, coldness consuming my body. “Y-you can’t bloodbend if you can’t see your target.” I panted, face flushed as my arms fell to my sides. Yakone rose a brow, viewing our new surroundings with a touch of amusement in his eyes. “So you trapped yourself with me, in here? Foolish.”

            “I had no other option.” I blurted, frowning as I struggled to keep my balance. My legs quivered underneath me, body battling to keep me up and Yakone noticed. He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head at my crumbling composure, “Look at you, an utter wreck. Dying from the inside out.”

            “What do you want from me?” I gasped, eyes fluttering open and close. The last bit of energy I had was long gone, a cold chill starting to run its course. Azula was happy to see me, so that means that I somehow played a part in this messy plan of theirs; but how. My arms dropped to my side in exhaustion, taking deep breaths as I fought to think.

            “You can fix yourself. A flick of your wrist and the pain can go away…” Yakone spoke, his voice bouncing off the walls, buzzing in my ears. I grimaced, trying to ground my feet, toes pressing themselves against the sole of my damn house slippers.

            But it was pointless.

            My feet stumbled, knees bucking underneath me, before giving out completely. I shut my eyes firmly, ready to fall face-first into the dirt before a pair of hands gripped my arms.

            His palms were rough against my skin, grunting as he held me. And when I opened my eyes, surprised to have been caught mid-fall, I was greeted with a pair of striking blue eyes.

            Mom.

            They look just like moms.

            Her eyes were magical, glowing like crystal.

            Memories of her holding me in her arms before I fell asleep came rushing to my mind because it was always the last thing I saw before falling asleep at night. Her soft eyes, looking down at me, hands brushing the hair away from my face.

            Those blue eyes-

            “Who are you really?” I huffed, my hands falling over Yakone’s forearms. He didn’t shake off my grasp as I thought he would’ve done. Instead, his grip tightened, lowering me to the ground, until I was on my knees.

            His lips were pressed tight the entire time, not sparing me a single glance. And once I was firmly planted on the ground, his grip on my arms loosen, but he stayed crouched.

            A half-ass laugh escaped him, shaking his head before he finally grumbled under his breath, “I always hated that damn crane story.”

            “What crane story?”

            “You know which one; Lord of Cranes.”

            My hands dropped from his forearm, staring at Yakone with a blank expression. I didn’t even realize my eyes were watering until he spoke, brushing a single tear with his thumb, “Sorry, little girl. You took my only handkerchief.” 

 ~ Fire Lord Zuko ~

            Solid ice.

            It’s wasn’t some thin layer, easily broken with the push of a finger. It was well-made, sturdy enough to be the fucking foundation of a bloody house.

            My palms pressed against the block, the coldness causing my skin to tingle, trying desperately to see or hear something, anything at this fucking point. The frost prevented much light from seeping through, and I swore under my breath. I can’t see a damn thing.

            “The fuck was she thinking!” I shouted, punching the harden water out of frustration. My head hit the ice in defeat; shoulders slumped as no amount of heat seemed to work. My eyes shut, trying to push the worst-case scenarios out of mind.

            All I wanted to know was that she’s okay.

            I need her to be safe; in my fucking arms, with that innocent smile on her face, giggling at some silly joke. Yue always thought she was the needy one, but she was wrong, so fucking wrong. She didn’t know how I always thought of her, that I used every damn excuse in the book to hold her, touch her, to be in the same damn room as her.

            ��Aang, can you bring this down?” I blew, turning on my heel to face him. But to my amazement, Aang was already in position. His burnt staff tied to his back, arms outstretched as he nodded, “Stand back, Yue’s ice is no joke.”

            Tell me about it.

            I shuffled backwards, getting out of the way before an agonizingly infuriating voice stopped us. Azula’s voice was like nails dragging on a chalkboard, a disturbing sound that I could go through the rest of my life never hearing again.

            “That’s my cue to go.”

            Azula’s hands combed through her lengthy hair, fixing her ponytail and brushing back all of the loose strands. She stood poised - as if she wasn’t getting her ass handed to her moments ago by Yue. That smug attitude of hers, if only-

            “What do we do Zuko,” Aang whispered, eyeing Azula and the wall of ice. The decision was easy, “Let her go; we need to get Yue out of there, now.”

            Azula rolled her eyes, hands falling onto her hips as she glanced to her side, where Yakone and Yue were. “Don’t worry; he won’t hurt her.”

            “And what makes you think that?” Aang responded, neither one of us trusting a word she said.

            A coy smile flashed, her pearly whites showing, before turning on her heel. “As I said before; the mother’s side is far more interesting.” She hummed, before disappearing into the trees, all traces of her gone.

            Aang stood there, baffled, confusion written on his face as he glanced towards me, “What in the world is she talking about…”

            “Ignore her; she’s crazy.” I muttered, and Aang nodded, “Agreed.”

            Aang dug his feet into the ground, shifting his attention to the real issue at hand. He let his hands sway side to side, and in one go; everything came crashing down.

            The sound of ice cracking and falling against the ground resonated through the forest, water spraying everywhere as I covered my face with my arm, “Holy- Aang, what the hell was that!”

            “I-I don’t know, that wasn’t me!”

            Wasn’t him?

            The air around us was illuminating as water floated in the air, reflecting the sun’s light. And if it had happened any other time, I would’ve admired the sight. “Do you see her?” Aang huffed, frantically searching the area where the encasement stood.

            “No, where could she-”

            My heart stopped.

            Yue sat on her legs; head hung low as her body shook, Yakone nowhere in sight.

            I could tell every breath she took was a struggle, her hands weakly dangling by her sides, hair covering her face. “Yue!” I shouted - sprinting. Please be okay; please be okay, please-

            Her head lifted slightly, eyes heavy as she shot me that soft smile of hers. “Zuko?” She whined, and in an instant I clutched her.

            My arms wrapped around her, drawing her into my chest as she trembled. She was shaking like a leaf as Aang watched over us worried, “Hey, babe, it’s okay- it’s okay. Don’t worry; I got you-” I hummed, a hand rubbing her back while the other tangled itself with her hair.

            “H-he knew the story.”

            “What story?”

            Yue’s head pulled back, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes brimmed with tears. “T-the story my parents used to tell me. The cranes, t-the reason I got the tattoo.” She blurted before stuffing her face once again into my chest. I cooed into her ear, trying to calm her, but my stomach was in knots. Yakone knew the story. How did he know the story?

            ‘The mother's side is always interesting.’

            ‘She’s a Bloodbender, ZuZu.’

            “Is everyone alright!?”

            Yue’s head popped out of my chest, eyes widening as she followed the voice, “Sokka!” She gasped cheerfully, a smile emerging as Sokka jogged towards us. My shoulders relaxed, seeing her smile so radiantly; she really is okay.

            “Holy, it seems like you guys had your hands full. What happened?” Sokka spoke, his eyes scanning our surroundings with an open mouth. And he had every right, the space where we sat screamed death. Not a single living thing remaining. The grass was burnt, trees around us rotten and mud started to settle from the melting ice.

            “Everything happened. Where were you?” Aang answered, flinching as he fixed the makeshift bandages on his arms.

            “Zuko was right all along, the moment I reached your soldiers, we bumped into a bunch of rogues. They were going to ambush; we managed to stop them and took most of them out.” Sokka spoke. I studied him, a few cuts and bruises along his arms, his clothing a bit tattered.

            “Princess, you saved my ass; twice.” Sokka beamed, crouching down to her level. She saved everyone’s ass today. Yue smiled, letting her head rest on my chest.

             “Where are my cookies?” she sulked, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at her response. My lips brushed her head, appreciating being this close to her. Safe.

            “Yeah, about that-” Sokka spoke, scratching his head with that cheeky smile of his. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to get up.”

            “Let me lift you; start walking home,” I whispered in her ear, my hands shifting her weight, and sliding effortlessly under legs. I can’t believe Yue was wearing house slippers this whole time. She’s nuts.

            “Do you have some whisky at this vacation house? After what just happened here, I need a drink.” Sokka groaned, rolling his shoulders back as I stood with Yue in my arms.

            Yue nodded in agreeance, letting her arms wrap around my neck. “We got bourbon or rye, take your pick,” I answered.

            “I’ll have both.”

            “Same here,” I muttered. A cold drink and a hot bath was exactly what I needed at the moment.

            “Save one for me too.”

            Everyone stopped moving, turning around to face Aang. Did he just-

            “Since when do you drink?” Yue blurted, unable to contain her outburst. But in all honesty, we were all flabbergasted.

            Aang shrugged his shoulders, walking ahead of us before waving away our disbelief, “Ever since that happened.”

            Sokka and I looked at each, before nodding in unison, “Fair enough.”

              The empty glass fell on the countertop, sighing a breath of relief as I downed the whisky. I knew whisky was meant to be drunken slowly, but I didn’t have the patience.

            “Holy shit. If I had known dating Zuko came with all these perks, I would’ve hopped on that way sooner.” Sokka blurted, looking around the place like a kid in a candy shop. I rolled my eyes at his expression, while Yue giggled on the couch. Aang already off to his guest bedroom, taking a hot bath.

            “Who would’ve known my competition would be Sokka.” Yue laughed, smiling childishly at Sokka’s remarks.

            I pinched my nose, “Second drink of whisky, here I come.” I grumbled, pouring the dark liquid to the brim and chugging.

            “Oh come on, it would be an honour to date me. You know we make a great couple.” Sokka insisted, wrapping his arm around me, and shooting me a wide smile. “Third drink of whisky, coming right up,” I announced, lifting the bottle towards them, and pouring into my empty glass.

            Sokka pulled away, acting as if I had hurt his ego with my remarks, hands over his chest. “You say that now, but we all know who the real power couple is, even if you deny it, Zuko.”

            While the temptation to slap Sokka across the head was overwhelming, seeing Yue laughing hysterically on the couch, happiness in her eyes made me hold back. It’s been a while since she smiled like that, letting go, not giving in to the troubles that were waiting for us. And if Sokka teasing me, like the joker he was, made her happy, even for a moment, I could suck it up.

            She took a short sip of her drink, before light patters caught our attention, “Enjoy your bath, Aang?” Yue hummed, brushing her hair behind her ears.

            Aang nodded, wearing some clothes that I lend him for the night. He looked fresh, an extra bounce in his step. It’s amazing how a hot bath can change a person. His hands fell over his stomach, nodding towards Yue before shuffling towards the kitchen area.

            “Exactly what I needed. I’m going to make myself a snack; anyone wants something?” Aang asked. The instant those words flew out of Aang’s mouth, Yue started shuffling herself off the couch, “Let me Aang, I can cook something up-”

            “Get your ass back on the couch.” I huffed, pointing at her and the couch in a flash. Yue pouted, and it took all the willpower in me to ignore it. She was too cute for her own good, and she wasn’t afraid to take advantage of that skill. “B-but-”

            “No buts.” I sternly spoke, eyeing her prudently. Aang rubbed the back of his head, laughing at the way Yue sulked. “Can you make me something? I’m going to take a bath, where’s my room, by the way?” Sokka asked, yawning and scratching his tired eyes.

            “I can show you-”

            “I swear I’ll tie you to the damn bed if you try to move again. Rest.” I growled as Yue made a dash to show Sokka his room. She was already standing up, legs getting ready to move until my voice made her stop in her tracks.

            “So, Zuko's into that type of stuff…good to know,” Sokka muttered under his breath.

            “Fourth drink it is!” I shouted, taking a swing straight from the bottle at this point. Sokka snickered, slapping my back before walking down the hallway, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it myself. I’ll look for an empty bedroom with a bed and bath.”

            Yue stood still, biting her lip as her fingers twirled around each other, itching to say something. “What is it, love?” I hummed, stepping forward to where she stood. Her eyes shifted downwards, as I stepped closer, before muttering, “I’m still angry, but I’m too tired to fight. So I decided that I’ll drown you tomorrow.”

            My hand fell over her head, laughing under my breath as Yue glared at me, trying her hardest to keep a straight face. “Tonight, let’s rest. You can yell at me all you want tomorrow, I promise.”

            Yue nodded, before slipping from my touch, and towards our bedroom, “I’ll get our bath and clothes ready.”

            “Our?” I inquired, a playful smile on my face as her face reddened.

            I’ll never get over the way she nibbles on her lip, battling her eyelashes as she turned on her heel, “Oh shut up, and hurry up before I change my mind.” She grumbled, before sneaking into our bedroom.

            My hands ran along my face and hair, letting out an exhausted sigh. What a fucking day-

            “You know, I thought she was going to kill you out there,” Aang muttered. I turned around, watching Aang make simple sandwiches for us to munch. “Yeah, I feared for my life too.”

            Aang snickered, shaking his head as he placed the sandwiches on a plate. “You messed up that bad, huh…”

            “I’m a man of politics, not relationships.”

            Aang stuffed a sandwich in his mouth, “And that, Fire Lord Zuko, I agree with entirely.”

            “How're your burns?” I muttered, and Aang pulled up his sleeves. His skin was clear, completely healed, not a single trace that his skin was ever burnt. “You healed it?” I asked, and Aang nodded. “Katara taught me some basic healing skills, comes in handy when she isn’t around and thankfully, it wasn’t that bad.”

            I nodded at his words, remembering the way Yue had healed my scar.

            It wasn’t a one-time thing.

            Almost every morning, before anything, Yue would ease the discomfort in my face. The creams and medicine didn’t come close to the amount of relief she gave me. My skin didn’t feel like leather, pulled tight around my face, and my vision on my eye got better.

            Thinking about the way her fingers grazed my skin, had me thinking once again, a question that I wanted to ask Yue days ago, but I chickened out and asked her about Mai. “Has Yue ever healed you before?” I blurted.

            Aang’s movements stopped, moving the sandwich away from his mouth and swallowing slowly, “Y-yeah. Maybe once or twice. She doesn’t like healing, and we always had Katara…”

             I nodded, walking towards Aang deliberately, studying the way Aang stir in his spot. “How did it feel when she healed you?”

            “Katara or Yue?”

            “Yue.”

            “Uhh, like how it always does, I guess,” Aang mumbled, swallowing hard. My eyes narrowed at his response, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Why are you asking Zuko…?” Aang whispered, his hands gripping the counter - fingertips digging into the marble.

            Because whenever Yue healed me, it felt different.

            Whenever Katara healed, it almost felt superficial. My muscles would ease; a soothing sensation. Recovering from the outside and working its way in.

            But with Yue, it felt deeper.

��           The way her fingers glided against my scar, it felt like she was healing from the inside out. Controlling and re-directing the very way my body functioned. It almost felt like I gave up all control of my body, and while I trusted Yue with my life, it was a sensation I never felt before, or experienced, with Katara.

            Aang stared at me with his lips pressed tight, his eyes never wavering from mine. “You know why Aang, it’s different from the way Katara heals-”

            “Zuko, don’t.” Aang huffed. His hands gripping my shoulders abruptly, catching me off guard. “Let it be.”

            “What are you hiding Aang?”

            His Adam’s apple bobbed, brows pinching together as he spoke, “Yue loves you, and she would give up her life for you any day, and you know that.”

            I huffed under my breath, teeth grinding as I stared at Aang.

            I knew Aang was right, but that didn’t change the fact that he was hiding something from me. Something about Yue – something she was obviously keeping away from me. “Does Sokka know, Katara, Toph or Suki?”

            Aang’s eyes slowly closed, shaking his head before tightening his grip on my shoulders, “She trusted me, and I don’t plan on breaking that. But if you so dare try to accuse Yue of anything, I swear Zuko,” Aang started, his voice rising.

            “if you really love her, you’ll accept every part of her. The good and bad, just like how she loves you.”

            “You know I care about her Aang-”

            “Stop wasting your time here then, trying to get information from me, and spend time with her. She needs you, and you’re here accusing her of spirits knows what.”

            Aang released his hold and stepped back. “I’ve never met someone as sensitive, loving, or empathic as Yue, despite everything she’s gone through. And if you think for a moment she could hurt someone-”

            “I love her Aang, and I fell in love with her because of that. But if she’s hiding something, something that may put her in danger, I want to know so that I can protect her.”

            “Zuko…” Aang muttered under his breath, “She’ll tell you when she’s ready, but for now, trust her.”

            A clicking sound caught our attention, a door opening and causing Aang’s and I focus to shift. Yue leaned against the doorframe, her silky robe hugging her body as she smiled brilliantly, “Come on, Zuko, the bath is all set. I need that magical touch of yours to warm up the water.”

            Aang nudged me, staring intently with an unwavering gaze, “Coming, love.” I hummed with a smile, walking towards her, and letting her arms drape around my waist.

            I melted.

            My hand brushed her silky strands behind her ears, a pink blush tainting her stunning features, giggling softly under my touches.

            I was hopelessly in love.

            No matter how hard I tried to reason, think logically – it was like something in my mind switches when I was around her.

            I pulled Yue close, letting my lips brush against her forehead and closing my eyes. I felt safe with her. And if giving her time to open up, allowing myself to trust her with all my heart is what I needed to do - I’d do it.

            I’d do it all. 

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

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[neshabeingchildish]

Upgraded

Share-a-Lair 10 

Charlotte was extremely excited about Henry’s advancement results. He was now featured on Hero Tracks, and she was THE FIRST person to follow him! Hero Tracks was one of her favorite forms of social media. Hero Tracks (while mentioned before, hasn’t been explained, so… let’s).

Hero Tracks served as a progress and news tracker for your favorite heroes. General updates were for the public, but if you follow a hero, you get more updates and if you’re on the friends list, you get to see their own posts, read DETAILS that they would trust friends with. Charlotte generally followed and friended every hero that she met. Henry wasn’t previously on Hero Tracks, because he thought that sidekicks with tracks were lame. “Their hero has a page that has AND and features them. Getting a separate account is try hard,” he told her. So, whenever the Hero League reported his results to him, (which also gets sent to Charlotte, simultaneously), she posted his account from the Tower, followed the account, and congratulated him. Shortly afterwards, Max sent a friend request, which she accepted on Henry’s behalf, and Max also congratulated Henry, “Good  going! Hope this means you’ll move out soon!” She laughed and shook her head. She actually wanted the two of them to possibly work together at some point… and she wished that maybe they could train together. She nonchalantly dropped these desires to both of them at different times, subtly. Max definitely took it in. Henry shot her down.

But. A few days later, Henry received a message from the Hero League.

“I can’t believe my life,” Henry said, disappointed.

Charlotte glanced over and wondered, “What’s happened?” He shoved his phone to her and she read, then cheered, “Max is gonna be your Hero League appointed mentor and trainer?!? Lucky you!” She gave him the phone back with a huge smile. “I’m so proud of this.”

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

“I told Max the same things that I told you and I guess he cared, because that message says that he personally requested this… and Henry… That is remarkable. He’s got global hero status. Henry… This could rocket your hero career.”

He sighed. He knew these things. He still didn’t like it. This meant that he sort of would have to report to Max… and… he still worked for Captain Man. When would he have PEACE, in this arrangement? He groaned and left her workspace to go call Jasper and complain to him about it. HE’D offer some type of empathy for Henry’s plight.

.

Honestly, it wasn’t bad being under Max’s mentorship and training. Henry found that even though he hated being around him casually, Max was pretty professional and patient with teaching him stuff. Sometimes, Henry could see in his expressions that he thought Henry should know more and was silently judging him for it. But, the one time that he brought it up, Max corrected him by saying, “I’m actually judging Captain Man. It’s almost like he never wanted you to take over for him… or maybe Swellview is too small for your talents. That’s also possible. Hiddenville was definitely too small for mine, and you’re under my wings now, so… your possibilities broaden.” Max gave him a sincere smile, then clapped his hands once and said, “Back to acrobatics lessons!” 

Max was… a brilliant fighter! Henry was super impressed with his abilities, agility, and versatility. And, he wouldn’t say it yet, but he was truly grateful for the opportunity to work so closely with him. Also, he was seeing Max a lot differently. Whenever he was satisfied with Henry’s training progress, he said that he would select assignments to bring him on. ASSIGNMENTS. With SuperMax! Henry was not going to fanboy over it… openly. He just wanted to work hard, prove himself, and venture on those opportunities.

.

Piper decided a get together was in order, because since Henry began training with Max, he hadn’t been in Swellview as much. Hero League business took precedence over Swellview business and Max refuted several of Captain Man’s refusals to let Henry off for various reasons. Max’s requests took precedence. Captain Man was definitely pissed, but Piper missed her brother and friends. Charlotte hadn’t felt the same about Piper since she joined the team and started acting like the guys, but she still hung out with her whenever she got a chance, out of nostalgia for the kid that she used to love and Girl Code. Definitely didn’t make it a priority or effort, though.

There they were, all being at least civil and Piper suggested that they play “Sex, Kill Marry” or whatever the heck it was called. Charlotte rolled her eyes and listened to various requests and answers, from names that Piper spouted out.

Jasper thought for a moment, during his turn, “Hmmm… I guess I’d marry Timothy Chalamet, screw Matthew Daddario, and have to kill Dylan Minnette. (Only because I just don’t love him like the other two…)”

Henry complained, “I HATE THIS GAME. UGH. F word China McClain, K word Selena Gomez, marry Daisy Riddle.”

Piper told him, “That’s not even her name!” 

Henry wasn’t to be deterred or have this lengthened. “That’s my answer! This is weird enough to play with my sister involved.”

So, when it was Charlotte’s turn and Piper said, “These three!” And she pointed at the three dudes in then room. 

Max raised an eyebrow and gave her an amused glance. Charlotte was extremely surprised. “Everybody else got celebrities!” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m much more curious about this,” Piper said, waving her finger between Charlotte and the guys.. 

Charlotte reached for her wine tumbler and took a sip. Wow. Ugh. She hated this game too. “Well, Jasper… I love you and all, and it’s been real, but…”

“Kill ME???” Jasper completed the thought. “Why???”

“Well… because my brain just can’t fathom any scenario in which either of the other options could happen,” She shrugged her shoulders and took another drink.

He sank in the couch and Piper reminded him, “Henry will marry you." 

Henry scoffed, "I’m marrying Daisy Riddle.”

“RIDLEY!” Charlotte and Piper both snapped. Then, Piper sighed and looked back to Charlotte. 

“With enough wine, I guess Henry gets laid..” she took another sip of wine and Max tried not to smile as big as he wanted to. 

Henry on the other hand jumped up, “Do you realize that means you’d choose to marry MAX?" 

"I’m glad you said it so I don’t have to,” Charlotte said and stared into her wine glass.

“I’d like to hear you say it,” Max said and smiled at her. She fought a smile of her own and avoided his gaze. They hadn’t been together long enough to even have a conversation about this, so it was SUPER awkward. They hadn’t even… gone very far intimately or officially told their friends about them. As far as everyone was concerned, they were still playing the “will they, won’t they” game. And now Piper’s little messy ass brings this mess in front of everyone, including Max.

“Why do I have to die, but Max gets married?” Jasper asked, breaking into her stressful thoughts.

“Yep,” Charlotte said, relieved for the interruption of her overthinking. 

“What?” Jasper asked the sky.

“Huh?” Charlotte asked him.

“Why? You barely know him and what we do know is that he was a teenage villain and I know we can’t prove it, but I’m reasonably sure he stranded me and Henry on that boat!”

“I was at a party all night with Charlotte,” Max said. She nodded her head, making eye contact with him for the first time since her answer, but she quickly looked away.  He squeezed her knee, then turned his attention back to Jasper. “And I can’t believe that the “why” isn’t obvious.” He began to count his qualities on his fingers for Jasp, “I’m a genius. I have great hair. Muscles. Superpowers. A jet. I can fight, dance, award winning skills in a variety of areas, I’m beautiful and handsome, at the same time…”

“You rock a pair of gray sweatpants like nobody else in the world,” Jasper added, seeing Max’s points.

“Like… everyone here should want to marry me,” Max finished off.

"He’s not humble, but he’s correct,” Charlotte said. 

“Thank you for admitting that my hair and muscles have value,” he teased her.

“Wait…” When she  looked up; he winked at her and she felt her face warm from a combination of realizing that the person that was just described was… hers (and wine). This was an even more impressive catch than her ex! She smiled at him.

“You’re equally as intelligent as me and I’d be honored to be your hypothetical husband. Imagine our hypothetical offspring!” Max cheered in excitement. He… really could see himself with Charlotte for the long haul and talking about it, even hypothetically… made it more realistic for him.

And she played along, too. “They would have to be intelligent. That’s just genetics. Obviously, they’d be gorgeous. We both have stunning features, good health, perfect teeth, amazing hair…" he just nodded to everything that she said. “Wow. I really chose well. Imagine if I had answered out of loyalty!” They both laughed. 

“Jasper’s rocks for brains babies. Henry’s pick any feature and I’ll pick it apart…” Henry and Jasper grimaced at Max’s insults.

“You’re so rude,” she giggled. 

“You love it,” he said and winked. 

She nodded. “Can’t deny that." 

“Come here for a sec,” he said and pulled her into his lap. She laughed and he kissed her on the neck, “I would have collapsed this entire house if you said anything else.”

“That doesn’t give me confidence in my choice! You’d better not give our hypothetical kids a temper!”

“Temper? I’M not the one with the temper to give them.” He kissed her neck again and she just reveled in it. They hadn’t been this openly affectionate, but she was feeling good and he had the best neck kisses.

“Are you two still talking hypothetical kids?” Henry asked.

“Are you saying that I’M the one with the temper?” Charlotte asked in a low voice, not paying attention to Henry’s question or Piper taking a sneak pic of them.

“You’re the more aggressive of the two of us,” he said.

Jasper let out an extremely loud sigh of relief. “OKAY! So, I had to die because you two are actually officially doing the thing. Okay. I feel better.” 

Henry frowned. He didn’t feel better. He knew that there was something between the two of them, but he guessed that he didn’t think it would get to this level… The seeing his second boss kissing his best friend’s neck… He… didn’t care for that. Max squeezed Charlotte and rested on her shoulder. They were having their own little conversation while Piper was posting their photo and asking how many people knew that they were official.

“This bitch is so messy,” Henry heard Charlotte whisper (about his sister, which he didn’t appreciate, but he knew that he was probably more irritated with Charlotte for being with Max). 

Was that why he was mentoring him? TO please his girlfriend? He really… didn’t see anything special in Henry, Henry began to convince himself. Did he even mean the encouraging shit he’d said to him during training, or was he just being nice to score p***y points?  Henry got up and asked, “Jasp, Piper, want anything?” Charlotte noted that he didn’t ask her and Max, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She could talk to him later about it. She was enjoying this… openness. 

[dibs4ever]

6 weeks

Six weeks. It had been 6 long weeks since he had seen her face, well in person that is. Sure they face timed a few times over that course and twice it was for pleasure instead of business. But that wasn’t like the real thing of touching her, holding her and knowing they were each others.

He knew all her codes, all the methods to get past the boobie traps, and how to break all the firewalls. So getting into the watchtower where she was wasn’t hard at all. He smirked to himself when he noticed she had her back to him, busy playing a game with her Goode Goggles. He had actually bought them for her about a month ago and had them shipped to her, a little surprise gift since he was away.

Anyways he smirked and was eager to use this opportunity to sneak up on her. It wasn’t a chance he got very often. Dick crept up behind his girlfriend, testing his luck instead of resting his hand on Barbara’s shoulder he dared to go a little bit further. But that proved to be a wrong decision, as soon as he passed her shoulder Barbara immediately grabbed his wrist flipping him over her and to the ground below.

“That was pathetic” her voice rang through

Dick looked up and let out a childish laugh “Please I’m a professional acrobat. I meant to do that”

Not wasting another second of the surprising time they had together Dick pushed himself up, leaned forward and captured her lips in a quick but passionate kiss.

“I missed you” he whispered as they pulled away.

Barbara smiled “You talk to me every day”

Okay, so we’re being playful. Two can play at that game. Dick thought before responding with “Please tell me you know that’s not the same thing” he looked at her with hooded eyes

“Oh I do” she spoke her eyes flickering down to his lips before they both leaned forward and closed the space between them again.

He felt her chuckle lightly against his mouth before her tongue darted into his mouth. Dick let out a low moan, she knew all the right buttons to push to turn him on. They were interrupted by the sound of a monkey laugh, both pulled apart “How do you like the Goode Goggles” he pointed

“The graphics are great” she smiled pulling the headset off “But who needs augmented reality when you’ve got” she spoke in a low voice placing her hand on his shoulder

Yes, she wants me just as badly as I want her Dick thought as he leaned forward. Nevertheless, they were interrupted again. Man, he wished she could have finished that sentence.

But then she turned her head getting that cute little-determined smile on her face “intriguing”

A little while later Dick found himself leaning over Barbara’s shoulder as she sent the last bit of information to his devices.

“Well you’re good to go” she spoke as she shrugged off her jacket.

Dick smirked “Yeah the real task is going to be keeping Brion under control”

Barbara giggled “Oh he doesn’t remind you of yourself?” She teased as she handed him her jacket and through silent communication, he took it from her and walked over to her couch where he draped it across the armrest then returned to her side “If anything he reminds me of Conner”

He sighed Who knew when he’d make it back here again. And it took them this long to collect this information, what would another couple minutes change.

Then as he read over the data the perfect excuse struck him “Ya know if we wait a little bit to go, we could get there just as they’re starting the battle”

Barbara nodded, her eyes still fixated on the screens “Yeah you’re right, that would probably be best.” She continued to type away. Not even noticing that Dick had moved behind her. He leaned forward “We have time for us” he whispered in her ear before he began a trail of kisses down her neck

“Mph, Dick” she threw her head back allowing him better access “We really can’t”

Dick shook his head, nuzzling her neck “Oh we can, we probably shouldn’t but we can. And when has ‘we shouldn't’ stopped us before? Besides, we’ll be quick” he kissed her lips

“It’s never quick with you” she whispered

Dick smirked “All I know is I miss you so much. In more ways than one, and based on that sentence you were speaking before we got interrupted you did too”

Barbara sighed “Of course I did Dick” she reached back wrapping a hand around his neck, pulling him down for a long kiss, Dick moved in front of her never breaking the kiss. He knelt down and in one swift motion Barbara pushed herself into his lap. Dick pulled her closer to him. “No foreplay, only one round, and there won’t be time for cuddling or pillow talk,” Barbara said pulling away, resting her forehead against his

Dick nodded “No foreplay, one quickie and a small bit of cuddling while we talk at the same time ?” He rose an eyebrow

Barbara nodded “Deal,” she said quickly before pulling his lips back to her

As promised their lovemaking was over all too soon, and they found themselves lying in Barbara’s queen-sized bed taking a moment to lie together.

“What are you thinking?” Dick sighed as he ran his hands through her hair

Barbara smiled “What makes you think I’m thinking anything?” She looked up at him

Dick grinned “I know you” he kissed her cheek

“You’ve been working with Artemis a lot these past few weeks” she said tracing the panes of his chest.

Dick nodded “I have, and I wish I could tell her how much of a help you have been” he leaned down kissing her bare shoulder

“I wish she knew you were alive”

Barbara smiled at him “Our families know, Mgann and I’m sure Conner know, Diana, Kladur.....enough people know that I’m not bothered by it” she assured him, kissing an old scar on his left peck. One he had sustained years ago during a mission as Batgirl and Robin.

“Back to you thinking about Artemis?” He said softly

Barbara nodded “Its just crazy, the first time I ever saw Arty was when you took the picture of her in 9th grade”

Dick smirked, “The one that sparked a rage of jealousy in you and made you realize you were in love with me?” He smirked

Barbara swatted his chest “I was a young girl, you were my best friend and you were flirting with some girl I had never seen before”

“I wasn’t flirting “ Dick argued

Barbara nodded “You were, whether you realize it or not. Anyways, if you had told me back then that all of that would lead to where we are now I’d say you were crazy. I never dreamed I’d fall in love with my best friend”

Dick smiled “Well I mean I am pretty cute”

Barbara smiled “You used to be” she teased

Dick shifted “Please I’m still cute”

They laid there in silence for a few seconds “Remember the first time we did this?” Dick asked nuzzling her neck

Barbara nodded “How could I forget, it was a 6 weeks after you returned from your time with the Titans and 2 months after Jason’s death “

Dick kissed her collar bone “I was 18 and you were 17, we were in the middle of a stakeout on a rooftop. It was one of the first times you had seen me in my Nightwing suit....you couldn’t keep your hands of me” he began a trail of kisses down her body

Barbara giggled “You were so sweet, I think you asked me 5 times if I was ‘sure’ or to tell you to stop whenever I didn’t want to go any further-  that night was pretty magical wasn’t it?“

Dick looked up at her “Honestly? I was scared to death.”

Barbara scrunched up her nose “Why?”

Dick moved up closer to her again “What if your dad somehow caught us.  I would have a record on me that said I couldn’t be within a certain amount of feet away from a school”

Barbara laughed “I was 2 weeks away from being 18, he wouldn't have pressed charges”

Dick shook his head ”I beg to differ” he leaned down capturing her lips

”That was when I could wrap my legs around you” her voice dropped

Dick ran his hands down her arm before lacing them with hers ”You know that doesn't matter to me” he shook his head

Barbara nodded ”I know, it just makes this...different. It still feels amazing, but we can’t have random rooftop hookups”

Dick chuckled “Those are overrated, like I said I was always scared your dad would catch us.” He bowed his head kissing the top of her left breast, Barbara let out a low sigh as she fought back a moan.

“Besides I can name one thing that’s gotten a lot more sensitive since you lost the use of your legs and I’m not complaining about that at all” he grinned reaching across her and grazing his fingers over the side of her breast

“You should be going” she gasped feeling herself starting to get lost in his touch again.

Dick pushed himself up and nodded “You’re right I probably should” he kissed her lips again before sliding out of bed. He slipped on his pants before picking up her clothes and handing them to her. He picked her up and carried her back to have station where her wheelchair had been abandoned only a short time before ”I love you” he whispered

Barbara smiled ”I love you too”

They exchanged a quick kiss and just like that, he was gone again. Not knowing when they’d see eachother again.

[clown-bait]

Monster Family (Monster Roommate AU) Ch4

Pennywise agrees to hang out with his mate and gets LIT in an Applebees. Believe it or not this chapter is semi based on personal experience. I'll let everyone decide what part that might be.

CH4 LIT

“Oh great she brought the ball and chain.” Freddy groaned as his friend walked through the doors of the only with a bar in town the three of them weren't banned from. Trailing behind her a very uncomfortable Robert Gray groaned in annoyance when he realized they were in a family restaurant.

“Peachy there are children here!” he hissed in annoyance as the scent of delicious screaming baby assaulted his nose from the dining area.

“If I can control my self in an arcade full of street fighter virgins you can handle being in an Applebees for a couple hours. Besides we can't go to any regular bars since we have to pass Chucky off as Freddy’s kid.”

Pennywise huffed in annoyance at the mention of his tenant. “Then we could do this at our own home. You cant even partake in this anyway.” he grumbled

“Pen the point of going out is that it prevents me from getting stir crazy and doing something to piss you off again out of boredom. You better get used to atmospheres like this anyway with kids on the way.”

“I won't be bringing them to cesspits of noise and grease such as this.”

“Then you're sure in for a surprise Jingles havin’ kids is just traveling from one cesspit to another!” Chucky laughed in his booster seat while pouring another colorful mixed drink into his sippy cup.

“The fact that you've gone this far for entertainment is pathetic.” the eldritch spat as his tennant flipped him off. “Does your wife know you've started stooping so low as to play baby just to enjoy a night out?”

“Does your’s know you've been sniffin’ her panties while she’s at work like a creep?”

Leech deadpanned as she sat down “Hi Chuck I’m literally right here, also Pen that's gross.”

“Says the woman who fucked a spider.” Pennywise grunted as he tested one of the colorful drinks on the table.

Freddy groaned and took a deep drink “Aaaaand this is why we don't let you bring him.”

“Yeah Fred you're one to talk, pretty sure this whole Chris rebound thing you're going through has led to some weird rendezvous. The Bye-Bye Man comes to mind-” the vampire sneered and a clawed hand was shoved across her face.

“SHH don’t fucking say his name! Fuck now he’s gonna find me and ask why I haven’t called.”

Leech continued to tease the dream demon as her disguised clown began his second "hurricane". At least the drinks were sweet and he was able to quell some of the hunger within him with the sugary alcoholic beverages. Leech glanced over at her mate noticing the nearly empty glass.

"Woah slow down there tiger I know you’re large but that's gonna hit you fast"

"Peachy Pie I’m not human do not worry for me. Instead continue insulting Krueger I was enjoying that."

"You're my ride home you better be able to teleport while drunk."

"I’m fiiinneee"

"That response alone is suddenly filling me with so many regrets." she groaned.

"Lighten up Fangs they water the drinks down anyway." Freddy rolled his eyes and flagged down their waitress for another round of drinks. Robert let out a loud hiccup and giggled as Chucky silently observed with interest. Several moments later the eldritch began to sway slightly, barely hearing the conversation anymore and instead letting a literal wandering eye drift around the room hungrily resting on potential targets.

"Jingles is drunk" Freddy nonchalantly grunted.

"Are you shitting me?" Leech growled and glanced over to her mate who seemed normal until he turned to her his cheek split open at the side revealing a fang filled maw underneath.

"Yeess?" the eldritch attempted a suave look on his out of control face and tapped too many fingers over his chin as his hooded eyes drifted apart.

"Jesus fuck Pen control yourself."

"Im aaaaallways in control darling." He purred getting all the way into her personal space as drool fell from from his lips and onto her shirt.

"Oh my god its like owning a fucking mastiff with you sometimes." Leech groaned and playfully shoved him away despite his persistent growls and chitters against her skin. “Put the teeth away honey you're in public”

“Get a damn room.” Chucky yelled and the eldritch's head snapped in his direction roaring horribly in annoyance.

“Fangs uh he's really becoming a problem someone is gonna notice this.”

“Its weird that he got fucked up so fast, he only had two watered down drinks.” Chucky said as he studied the disguised clown.

“You're right give me your water” Leech hastily grabbed the clear liquid in front of the dream demon and tipped it against her mate’s lips. Freddy moved to stop her but stopped when Robert Gray’s face opened unnaturally wide to dump the liquid down in one gulp.

“FANGS! That was pure vodka.” Freddy yelled.

“Why the FUCK do you have a cup full of vodka?”

“Why the fuck not?” he growled and popped a small chocolate into his mouth. The eldritch stopped his swaying and stitched his face back together the room becoming much more clear as his eyes aligned once more.

“Who tried to poison me?” Robert groaned rubbing his temples completely sober. Freddy and Leech both stared at him dumbfounded. “HOW?!” they both shouted. Robert cocked an eyebrow.

“Belief.” he said simply and plucked a chocolate from Freddy's hand plopping it into his mouth. “I function on belief and imagination. I am serious about the poisoning which of you was it?”

“So what you're telling me is if I believe that apple juice could make you shitfaced it’ll happen.” Chucky smirked.

Robert sighed in annoyance knowing his three companions well enough now that his question will never be answered. “In a way yes.”

“Don't even try it Chuck.” Leech snarled but stopped when she felt her mate’s hand on her shoulder.

“Tricks will not work he has to absolutely believe it will happen.”

Freddy finally spoke up waving a gloved hand to get their attention “Uh guys….What happens if I believed that there were some pretty interesting party drugs in that candy.”

The vampire and the eldritch both froze.

“Please tell me you didn't.” Leech grabbed her friends stripped sweater

“I did.”

Chucky sighed and took a long sip of his drink “We’re gonna get banned from fucking Applebees.”

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

Pennywise had blinked and suddenly he was no longer at the restaurant. There was music that was loud and pulsing and sweaty bodies bumped into him from all sides. How did he get here? His limbs felt like jelly and he was holding some type of weird blue beverage. He took a large gulp of it to sooth the dryness in his throat and made his way back to the red lights that must be the bar. Despite being disoriented he did feel good, giggly even. He hadn't even realized his human disguise was part-way to “clown mode”, his face baring his trademark makeup, but he did notice that the other people around him were dancing he should probably as well. He needed to blend in after all. So he began to sway and move to the music leaping through the air dramatically like an acrobat. It felt like a full 27 years had passed as he performed but if he stopped the illusion would be ruined. Thus he had to keep dancing.  As he swayed and stumbled in euphoria he bumped into the first face he had recognized in this new location who nearly fell from the weight of the cross faded eldritch colliding with his spindly frame. “Holy shit Jingles there you are!”

“Krueger!” the clown nearly shouted and pirouetted with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“Have you been drinking more?”

“I found a pretty blue drink on a tray! Pretty and sweet!”

“You're a riot Jingles.” the dream demon laughed “Who'd have thought you'd have it in you to steal drinks.”

More of the clown's human disguise melted and he giggled uncontrollably grabbing the dream demon into a back breaking hug.

“Pennywise is glad to see you my friend yes he iss! I was so lost in this strange new place!”

“This is the cenobites nightclub idiot also put me down jesus!”

“Mmmm but you are warm and small!”

“Save it for your girlfriend bozo.” Freddy shoved his tall drugged companion back and straightened himself.

“Peachy!? She's here?"

"Man you really are messed up. She's the one who dragged your ass here after you nearly mauled someone at Applebees. Said it was my fault and put me on babysitting duty."

The clown dramatically tapped his wet chin then grinned wide with an idea

"Krueger I wish to dance with my mate fetch her for me!" He growled puffing out his chest in a display of cockiness.

"What do I look like your servant?"

"........are you not?"

"Fetch your own woman.” Freddy grunted and left deciding the nosferatu could deal with her beloved man child herself.

-------

Leech sat in a private room her housemate in a stolen booster seat beside her chains hung from the ceiling as a high stakes poker game took place below. The vampire ripped off her sunglasses in annoyance.

"Seriously Pinhead turn some fucking lights on in here."

"You are the one insisting on wearing eye protection indoors."

"Its a bluffing tactic!"

"Fangs no one actually wears sun glasses outside league games except for assholes like you and Krueger."

The nosferatu snarled and ripped her glasses off. "If I lose I'm blaming all of you."

"Learn to lie better trashpire. I fold." Chucky sat back in his booster seat taking a drag off a joint much to Leech's annoyance.

"You've been folding a lot. Also Chuck, pregnant stop smoking."

"Fangs we're playing against a goat and a guy with no eyebrows. I don't think either of them has ever made an expression other than neutral in their immortal lives." The doll grumbled snuffing the joint out and putting it back in his front pocket. He turned to the growing bump under his friends shirt "Take note kids uncle Chucky is doing this for you now so you wont eat me later."

Leech rolled her eyes at him "I raise."

"You have nothing left to bet idiot." The doll shouted and Pinhead smiled at his cloven hooved companion.

"Nothing physical."

The vampire cocked her eyebrow with interest a low purr formed in her throat "Are we raising the stakes?"

"Fangs, Jingles will kill me if-" the doll was cut off quickly by a cold pale hand to his mouth.

"Quiet Chatty Cathy. Continue."

"I have a very lovely crock pot, stainless steel 4 different settings, no stick. All you have to wager is a simple IOU." The dark furred goat hissed into the air like a whisper.

"Why the hell would a vampire need a crock-"

"DEAL!" Leech slammed her fist on the table fangs gleaming in her wide smile. Chucky gasped like a fish in protest. The large black goat let out a horrible guttural hiss.

"Shake her hand hell priest and the game will continue."

"Sire I believe that crock-pot was the one you borrowed from me-"

"SHAKE HER HAND"

Leech grabbed Pinhead's hand before anything else could be said. "You have no idea how much blood pudding I'm going to make with that thing."

"Well this definitely won't come bite all of us in the ass later." Chucky sighed and slumped back in his booster seat.

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

Pennywise felt amazing. Lights flashed all around him as people brushed against him from all sides. Normally this would repulse him but tonight touch felt good and the loud noise vibrated his form's bones making his muscles tingle. A woman touched his arm and his skin melted from the feeling. Why was he here again? Someone he was looking for, someone he actually liked. Then there she was, in her messy platinum wig bobbing in the ebb and flow of the dance floor. He felt his body tingle with excitement and he pushed other monstrous creatures out of his way to get to his precious queen. "Hiya gorgeous~" he purred his usual greeting to her and pulled her to him kissing her deeply. He felt like the most romantic suave person in the room and Leech felt amazing against him. Her lips were warm and soft she smelled of fresh flowers sending tingles up his spine. Then the moment was broken when a voice that definitely was not his mate's came out of her mouth and the intoxicated Pennywise realized the person he just passionately kissed was not the mother of his children. He realized it a second time when an icy cold claw pulled him back and broke his cherry red nose.

I think he might be in trouble.

[multific]

Partner In Crime

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Requested by: daisygonzalezmexican 

Request: Hi, Jerome x reader smut imagine request (in season 4 and him not die)the reader is Jerome's girlfriend (and partner in crime) and she is funny, brave, vengeful, sensitive and aggressive when she is really mad and physically she is white skin, thin, is height 1.56, black hair, expressive dark brown eyes, small nose and heart lips. Please and thanks 😃😊

Warning: Smut

A/N: Although you specified the reader, I didn’t, in the imagine. Also, kids ALWAYS use a condom!!! Hope you like it. Enjoy~

Yours and Jerome’s relationship was interesting to say the least.

It definitely wasn’t normal nor a fairy tale.

You have met him in the circus, you were an acrobat. He loved to watch you from the back and always told you that you did an amazing performance. You soon began to fall for the boy.

At first you didn’t realize what kind of person he was. But soon he showed his true colours.

He told you about everything, his brother, his mother and his uncle. You completely understood how he became crazy.

You were there every step of the way, in the shadows, protecting him. You got your first kiss from him when he killed his mum. And from then on, your relationship became stronger and stronger.

Jerome wasn’t the kind of man that would give you flowers and tell you that he loves you constantly, he is the type of man that would show it.

He got you jewelry, killed everyone that dared to look at you for more than a second and leave hickeys all over your neck, to show that you are his.

And you did the same, if a girl looked at him the wrong way, she didn’t need to worry about her little head anymore.

Then he was killed.

Your prince charming was stabbed in the throat. But you got your revenge and killed Theo.

*

Things got complicated, but you got your Jerome back.

And he was crazier than before, if that’s possible.

But he didn’t change nor his feelings.

And after today’s events, you weren’t letting him go again.

The gas failed, Jerome was almost killed by Jim Gordon, if you weren’t there, he would be dead.

“Stop moving.”

“But it hurts!”

You were currently at one of your hides, treating Jerome’s shoulder wound.

You finally got him to stop moving, and patched up his wound.

“Done.” you said to him and he stood up from the bathtub’s edge. You cleaned up the bathroom and decided to prepare dinner.

‘He must be hungry.’ you thought.

You started to cook while your boyfriend was in the living room. The apartment wasn’t a really big one, it had one bedroom a small bathroom and the kitchen and the living room was basically one bigger room. Nothing extra, but it worked as a perfect hide.

As you were stirring the pot, Jerome hugged you from the back and placed his head on your shoulder. His much bigger form was almost crushing your smaller one. Little things like this that he did, showed you that he cared about you, but not long after, he opened his big mouth, ruining the moment.

“Hey, Princess. Remember the night we killed my mother?” he smirked. You nodded.

“Yes, I remember that old dirty mattress that you found and made me lose my virginity on. You are soo romantic.” you last sentence was full with sarcasm, but he didn’t care.

“Right? I still remember how scared you were that someone might see us in the opening, but soon you were screaming my name.” and he bit your neck.

“Food’s almost ready.” you tried to distract him, but it didn’t work. He worked his way down your neck to your shoulder. You tilted your head back, giving him access. In the meantime the food was ready, so you stopped the stove and turned around in his arms.

“I want my Princess, just like that night.” he said.

“Well to be honest that couch is almost as dirty as that mattress was.” you smirked at him. You made him laugh a bit.

“Hop-on.” he said, and you did. He caught you and walked to the couch. Placing you down, he started to kiss you roughly.

Soon almost all your and his clothes were off.

You kissed his scares as he got rid of his last clothing, his boxers. As his huge member got freed, you immediately grabbed it and started to pump it, Jerome was working on your neck again. He soon started to play with your clit, and inserted a finger into you. Mutual masturbation was something you both liked, but not as much as the actual sex.

His fingers worked magic and you did your best with his member. You were doing a great job, since he was groaning and moaning into your neck, his voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Jerome, please, I want you in me.” you whispered to him, he decided not to tease you that night, so he got on his knees and pushed into you. Making you moan out, you were wet enough so he didn’t hurt you, but his length was something he was proud of. Even if you were the only one he had sex before.

He didn’t hesitate, he was going hard, his pace was never slow. You were a moaning mess under him.

Your nails scratching his back.

“Yes! Jerome! More!”

And he complied. He was holding you by your waist and thighs. You were sure his fingers will leave bruises behind.

He was making you feel so good. He loved to watch you like that. Mouth agape eyes clouded in pleasure, boobs bouncing with his rhythm and his cock going in and out of your tight hole.

The scene itself was enough for him to climax, but he wasn’t the type of man that would leave you unsatisfied. He let go of you thigh and started to massage your clit. It made you arch your back.

The pace that he was going at and his little stimulation was too much for you.

With a cry of his name, you came. And as you tightened around him, he came as well. He pushed deep into you and filled you up. Without pulling out, he collapsed in top of you.

You saw his shoulder injury started to bleed again, and made a mental note to patch it up again, later.

But for now you just hugged him close to you.

“I love you.” you whispered into his ear and kissed his cheek.

“I love you too.” it was barely audible, but you managed to hear it.

You were so glad that you were with him.

Your partner in crime.

Taglist: @imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @ v-2bucky @ ehsebastian @ crunch-time-sports @ pxstelrainbow

[blackandbluegrayson]

63 or 98 for the prompts if you like. Thanks so much!!!

(I’m so so sorry that it have take me forever to answers that one. Life have been a bit crazy. Hope that one is not to bad.63 : “You look pretty good,considering you just got shot.” 98 : “Nothing is going tohappen to you.”)

The night hasgone from bad to worst to shitty fast.All starts when a snowstorm begins during a stakeout to stop a weapon dealcoming from Blüdhaven. As much as Bruce has worked on a type of thermal pant thatdidn’t obstruct Jason’s movements it wasn’t there yet. Scaly underwear and capethat stops at the butt are still a stupid way to dress to be out in Gotham’scold weather. Jason blames Dick terrible fashion sense for the reason he isfreezing his ass off.Speaking of Big Bird, he wasn’t supposed to be there tonight but seem that hewas doing his own investigation and has journeyed back in Gotham.

Jason havebeen glad to see him after he has witnessed the size of the operation and thequantity of arms goons. It wasn’t the point of view of either Batman orNightwing. Bruce insisting it was a Gotham problem, so they can deal with it whilethe younger hero refuses to back off saying it was being taken care because itcame from his city.

Normally theymanage to keep those verbal fight only in the cave, but it appears the weather isaffecting everyone temper tonight. So, while they are having a piss contest,Robin choose to move to the edge of the building to continue the surveillance.After all his time as Robin, Jason have learned better than stay around when thosetwo get into it.

That whenall hell has broken loose. Maybe one of the goons has spotted Robin or has heardthe not to subtile argument between Bruce and Dick. Anyway, a bunch of themhave made their way to the rooftop where they are and decide to get rid of thebat and birds’ invasion.

During thebattle Jason have nearly lost his footing because of the snow and one of thecrooks use that distraction to throw him over the edge of the building. He onlyhears Nightwing and Batman screaming for him as he plunges down.

He was luckyenough to have his drop break by an open dumpster but not enough to fall in theright way as his left knee hit the metallic ledge. His cry of agony is coveredby the sound of the metal lid closing. The pain in his leg and the impact withthe garbage have left him dazed. Jason has no idea how long he has been therein the dark.

After whatfeel like an eternity, Jason could hear some noise outside. He moves slowly toget is batarang out of his utility belt ready to defend himself. He holds hisbreath as the lid is lifted. “Little wing?” A familiar voice calls but in his state of mind the boy wonderthrew the weapon even before he can think about it. It was simple self-preservationinstinct. Nightwing training gives him the reflex to bend back to dodge. “Hey it’sme,”

Jasonswears. “Maybe a little warning next time….” He hisses between his teeth.

Nightwingclimbs on the ledge of the dumpster. “B try to reach you, but your com probablybeen knocked out in your fall. He is taking care of those goons.” He says as hemoves inside. His weight makes the garbage bag and boxes shift as pain flair inJason’s leg.

“Robin?” Theolder man asks to see how pale the boy was. He looks him over and curse. “Thatlook painful.”

“Youthink!?” Jason growls. He couldn’t stop a yell as Dick’s touch on top his knee.“Don’t touch!”Nightwing open his mouth to apologize or comment but was cut by someone elsevoice outside. “Boss, ’think I find the brat.” A man claims, and they couldhear a gun’s cocking.

Robin looksup at the older vigilant try to no show how he was panicking internally. He issitting duck in here. Nightwing seems to understand without needing him to sayanything. “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He promises in a whisper. BeforeJason could react, he jumps out of the dumpster. The sudden movement sends ahot white pain through all the teen leg, making him feeling sick and lightheaded.Robin could vaguely hear the commotion of the battle over the roaring of hisblood in his ears.

The gunshot istoo clear.

The noiseseems to resonate forever against the metal. As much the sound was freighting,the silence that follows was an even worse.  

Jasonfrowns. That wasn’t good. “Wing?” He calls out trying to keep his voice steady.He knows that stupid, but he is getting really worry. Nightwing is never quietin combat.

When he didn’treceive an answer, he takes a deep breath and brace himself as he forces hisbody to sit up. Again, his leg seems to burst into flames, but he keepspushing. He needs to be sure Dick is okay.

Jason managesto grab on the side and pull himself up to look out. He froze on the spot atthe scene. The gunman is on the ground clearly unconscious, one of Nightwing’s escrimassticks near. The owner of the weapon is slumbering against the brick wall headlow. Jason could see the blood on the wall behind him but couldn’t spot whereit comes from because of the dark fabric of his uniform.“Nightwing!” he yells and force himself out of the dumpster. He falls wrong onhis legs, the pain that flair was too much. He blackout but not before he hearsthe familiar sound of a cape ruffling. *****************************

First thingJason is aware, is that he is warm, and his head feel weird. His head isfeeling like it was wrapped in cotton and his mouth dry. He is drugged. Thatwasn’t good.

The secondis that something not quite heavy or light is pressing him down. His eyes flyopen when his brain acts up with the situation and he tries to fight his wayout of here whatever trap that was. The pain that fair in his legs was enoughto make him whimper and stay still for a moment. He wouldn’t want to attracthis captor’s attention. He attempts to catch his breath and move his head toknow where he is. Even in his state, he didn’t forget he was Robin and use whatBatman has taught him.

He blinks afew times as he recognizes the plain decoration of his room at the manor. Lookingdown and realize with some embarrassment that what he has thought has restrainedis his blanket. Alfred probably been the one tucking him in and trying to stophim from hurting himself more. He turns his head to spot a glass of water onhis nightstand and a pair of crutches.  Jason slowly sits up and pushes the covers to inspect his leg. Even with theminimal lighting coming from between the curtain, he could see the splint coveringhis left leg.

Snowstorm. Fall in the dumpster. Gunshot.Nightwing’s blood.

As the events of the night rush in his mind, his stomach twist with worry. He needsto check on Dick. He takes the crutches and get out of bed as fast as he canwithout disturbing his injury. The trip to Bruce’s office never feels this far away.Jason is only half way there, and he is ready to crash. His whole body iscomplaining.

“Littlewing? What are you doing up?” The nickname is enough to make him stop. The onlyperson that calls him like that.

“Dick!” Hespins around toward the voice and lost his balance a bit. A hand on his elbow helpshim stay up.

“EasyJason.” Dick says. “You look awful. You should not be up.”

The youngerman could finally face his predecessor, and he doesn’t look hot either. The looset-shirt, that Jason suspects being Bruce, he can see that his right shoulder inheavy bandages. His arm is in a sling close to his body, and he is pale.

“Sure, likeyou can talk. You look pretty good, considering you just got shot,” Jason sayssarcastically.

Dickchuckles weakly. “I deserve that one.” He comments as he gently pushes Jasontoward the room he just exited. The new boy wonder realize it was the library.“Come sit down before Alfred catch the both of use up.” He helps him to thecouch in front of a light up fireplace. Dick takes a blanket off the cushions andput it on the arm.

Jason groansa bit as he let himself fall on the couch. “What are we doing up stairs?”Alfred normally insisted on keeping them in the Batcave’s infirmary for a leastthe night after a big injury.

Dick sits atthe end and reach to help him settle both his leg on his laps. He put theblanket on top of them. “The snowstorm has knocked the power out, Bruce andAlfred are working on the repair. We would have frozen down there.

“That make sense.” Jason says. For a few minutes the onlysound that could be heard was the wind outside and the crackle of the woodburning. It is strangely relaxing.

“You didn’tanswer my question.” Dick comment breaking the silence. He tears his eyes fromthe fire and glance at Jason. ‘Why are you up?’

Jason sendshim a glare. “The last thing I remember was you bleeding in an alley… I want tobe checking on you.” He replies before he looks away. He not sure how Dickwould react to this. It wasn’t like they were close or anything. They arenothing else that kids Bruce Wayne takes under his wing. At least the olderteen doesn’t seem to hate him as he was when they first meet.

He couldfeel Dick’s gaze on him. ‘Jay…’ he begins but Jason cut him.

“You should bein bed as much as I do.” He mumbles before Dick could say something that would probablybe embarrassing.

The acrobatsighs a bit. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decide to come here and read until mybrain shut up.” Jason raises an eyebrow. He never really imagines Dick Grayson sitting down andquietly reading. Silent and immobile don’t seem to be modes the first Robin caneasily achieve, even least both at the same time. The fact that here asabsently drumming his finger on Jason’s uninjured ankle is just reinforcingthat image. ‘Don’t look like it is working well.’ He comments. ‘Something hurt?Maybe Alfred can give you another round of painkillers.’Dick shakes his head. “The shoulder is not too bad.” He says. “Trust me, youprefer me like this that drugged out of my mind. I become more a mess that I’malready are.” He jokes but the humour feels really force.

“Then what’swrong?” Jason asks. He knows he is a bit blunt, but it makes him uncomfortableto see his predecessor like this.

For a fewminutes he thinks he won’t answer but finally Dick drop his head on the back ofthe couch and look at the ceiling. “You have fallen Jason…” he says. “I can’tstop replaying it in my mind. You could have…” He stops but the word was unsaidbut still hang heavily between them.

“You could have died.”

Jason looksdown, biting his lowers lips. They might not be close, but he realizes whatthat means to him, how painful that must have been for Dick. He moves his goodleg to dig his heel in the taller man’s thigh. It’s his way to tell him that heis there and alive. Dick smiles weakly and squeezes his ankle gently.

The tensionbetween them seems to drain.

“So, whatwere you reading?” Jason asks. Books are easy and familiar for him.

Dick chucklessoftly and reaches to pick up something on the side table and gives him abatter copy of The Merry Adventures ofRobin Hood. “It’s my comfort reading. I have gone through that one somany times, I’m pretty sure I can recite it by heart.”

Jason opensthe book carefully. He can say that this book has been well loved. It was notone of the hardcover prints that were in the Wayne Library. It’s a soft coverthat can be found for cheap in a bookstore or retail shop. All the book he haspossessed before coming to the manor was like this. Jason still has them in hisroom. “That one is yours.” He comments.

“That theone my parents used to read to me. I was so worried to loss or damage it that Idecide to let it here.” He smiles weakly. “Nothing is safer than under Alfredwatches.”The new Robin nods bad continue to look through the book but more carefully. Herealizes how precious that book is. He is touching that Dick trust him enoughwith something this personal. “So, is that why you name yourself Robin when youjoin Bruce on the street? Always think it have been B ideas.”

Dick shakeshis head. “No…” he seems to hesitate. “It was the nickname my mom was using forme. I was her little Robin”

Jason froze beforehe looks up at him. “Dude… I didn’t know.” Now Dick’s anger when he has learnedthat Bruce has given him the title make so much sense. He feels a bit sick.That was wrong. He shouldn’t be the one carrying that name. “If you want…”The older man raises a hand to stop anything he was about to say. “It’s okay,Little Wing.” He declares, clearly seeing his distress. “You deserve the suitand the alias. I’m in peace with Bruce’s choice. I know my mom would have lovedyou.”

The younger heroglance away. He has big doubt he would be the kind of person Mary Grayson wouldhave wanted to associate with her son nickname. Normally he would have gottenup and just walk out of that discussion. In his state Jason feel he might justfall on his face and look pathetic. Not like Dickhead would let him go.

He gazesback at the book in his hand. That could be a good distraction as any. “You sayyou could recite this text by heart?”

Dick turnshis head toward him. “Even with the painkiller messing with my brain… Yeah, Ithink so.”

Jason opensthe book on the first chapter and grins at the older man. “Prove it…”

“Challengeraccepted Jaybird.” He laughs a little before he throws his head back on thecouch and begins to talk. “In merry England in the time of old, when good KingHenry the Second ruled the land, there lived within the green glades ofSherwood Forest…”

Jasonnuzzles against the cushion as his eyes fly over the words as he let Dick’svoice bring him in the story. He not sure when he has closed his eye, or if himor Dick have fallen asleep first.That how Alfred find them a few hours later. He might or not have taken apicture before waking the boys up to send them both to their rooms. No onewould be able to prove it.

[katastroficwriter]

I cansolve my problem now!! Hope you’ll like it♥//new anon

Tags: Blood, Implied Violence

CRASH!

The entire room went silent after Ouma threw an empty wine bottle at the wall. The clown then waited for a couple of moments before leaving the tent. As soon as everyone was sure that the raven-haired performer was already out of earshot, the murmuring began.

“What’s his problem?”

“I think it’s because some of the audience were texting on their phones during his performance…”

“I mean, that is disrespectful, but isn’t that reaction a little bit too much?”

“Ah, you must be new here…it’s true that Ouma-kun’s a little unstable–but he’s our top performer. If he leaves the troupe, we’ll lose more than half of our profits.”

“Are we even going to be safe being around him?”

“He’s actually docile as long as you don’t do anything that flips his switch. It takes a while getting used to. We’d like to help you, but Ouma-kun reacts differently to different people. You’ll have to figure it out for yourself, newbie. Good luck.”

…The newbie had quit the circus after a month.

                     ———————————————–

He chose this way of life because of the thrill it gives him. He loves the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins whenever he performed. But the most important thing of all, he absolutely adores the amazed stares the audience gives him. Not even the adrenaline he gets from flipping through the air or balancing on a ball could compare to the utter ecstasy he feels whenever he’s under the spotlight. Especially when his blue-eyed angel is watching. The way his eyes sparkled with wonder each time he watches the acrobatic clown’s performance is simply…delicious.

Whether conscious or not, Ouma found himself searching for those beautiful blue eyes in the crowd during each and every performance of his. He was never disappointed because his angel was always there. That’s why Ouma made sure to give him a little wink whenever their eyes met.

Now, his angel–Kiibo, as he introduced himself earlier, is standing before him behind the circus tent, hidden from the eyes and ears of his troupe.

“I have always watched you from afar. Whether I sit in the back or in the front, your performance is always so dazzling,” Kiibo started. “Seeing you fly through the air or you performing your tricks with a smile…I couldn’t help but fall in love. I know that it was presumptuous of me to think that I’d even have a chance with you, but–”

“You want to go on a date…with me?” Ouma tilted his head, making the bells on his hat jingle from the mere motion.

“Yes.” Kiibo nodded, his eyes never left the clown during the entire confession. It wasn’t the first time he’s had a man seek him out after his performance just to court him. He is quite a beautiful catch, so it wasn’t a surprise. He turned them all down because he wasn’t interested in their half-hearted affection. What made Kiibo special however, is that…he was looking at him. Him and only him. He was practically on cloud nine right now. How could he ever resist such wonderful blue eyes?

Thus begins their nightly rendezvous. They would secretly meet in the forest behind the circus tent and share a tender and loving moment hidden from the eyes of other people. Even Ouma’s fellow performers noticed a little change in him. His outbursts have become scarce, and sometimes he returns to the tent smiling as he cradled a bouquet of bat flowers in his arms, saying that it came from his lover and admirer.

“I told him that bats were my favorite animal since they hang around upside down just like me sometimes,” Ouma happily explained as he carefully rubbed a petal in between two fingers. “So he got me these flowers since it resembled bats. He’s so thoughtful.” Was his response once someone finally asked. He was at peace. Ouma honestly didn’t think he could ever be this happy with Kiibo–the albino angel who’s always watched his every performance with love and wonder in his eyes.

One day, however…

“I was thinking of joining the circus with you,” Kiibo was carding his hand through Ouma’s hair as he said this.

Ouma felt a painful twinge in his heart and mind as he processed his lover’s words. But he pushed the unpleasant feeling in the back of his mind and simply pouted. “You? In the circus? No way. You don’t have anything to contribute in the troupe at all.”

Kiibo chuckled, “That’s true. Maybe I can think of something I can do soon.” He placed a gentle kiss on the crown of the raven-haired performer’s head.

Ouma shifted in his position on the bed and moved to press his lips against the albino’s very own. “It’s a fruitless endeavor, but good luck anyway.”

“Thank you,” Kiibo’s gentle voice made his heart flutter still, but the performer couldn’t help but feel uneasy after the exchange. A few days had passed peacefully, which lulled Ouma into a sense of comfort.

However, Ouma later realized that he had forgotten how much of an amazing person Kiibo was. True to his word, Kiibo did put in a lot of thought of what he could do for the circus. He was serious about being a part of Ouma’s life in the circus as well, which is why he even made it a point to ask for some advice or even lessons from each of the other performers in the troupe. They showered the albino with praise and adoration–they were happy that he was putting in so much effort just to be with Ouma.

The more Kiibo honed his skills, the deeper the thorns in his heart grew. He loves Kiibo, he truly does. But he didn’t want him to be part of the circus no matter what. Because…because…

“What’s wrong, Kokichi-kun?”

Ouma had pulled him out of the tent after their final performance for the night. It was exactly the night before Kiibo’s first appearance as an official member of the troupe.

“You…weren’t there…” the shorter male murmured, clenching his fists to his sides. “You weren’t there to watch me.”

“Ah, I was prac–”

“You were too busy practicing for tomorrow, I know!” Ouma snarled.

“Koki–”

“Why do you think I never wanted you to be part of the circus?!” Ouma gritted his teeth in an attempt to stifle his anger. It wasn’t working. “I thought that–I was starting to believe that I could handle not being the center of everyone’s attention as long as I had yours. But now, I can’t even have that!” Angry tears began streaming down his cheeks. “You weren’t there for me!”

“I’m sorry, Kokichi-kun–” Kiibo took a few steps forward and hugged the shorter male.

“Don’t…Don’t touch me!”

CRASH! THUD!

“You don’t understand how much you hurt me!” Red.

“You don’t know how betrayed I felt!” So much red.

“I just…I just wanted you to look at me!” And before he knew it…

“I…know…” Ouma let the broken bottle slowly slip out of his grasp as soon as he felt a hand cupping his cheek. Kiibo coughed as he caressed his lover’s cheek with his now bloodied hand. “T-that’s why I…I wanted to be clo…ser t-to…to you…”

His angel was now dyed red.

Kiibo’s pristine white skin was now decorated with slashes and broken glass, and blood was oozing from his head. Unfocused turquoise eyes met shocked amethyst orbs. “Koki…chi…kun…”

“K-Kiibo…! I–” Ouma choked on his words upon realizing what he had just done. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” he cried. “Kiibo I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“Shh…” Kiibo hushed. His breaths were getting shallower and shallower. “…Smile…for me. Just like…always.”

Ouma shook his head furiously as he cradled the albino in his arms. “I can’t do it. There’s no way I can do it!”

He’s stupid. He’s crazy. How could he tell the person who assaulted him to smile for him while he’s dying?!

“I…fell in love…with your smile.” murmured the albino. He was looking at Ouma, but it felt like he wasn’t looking at anything at all.

“Kiibo!” Ouma sobbed, his breaths were getting frantic with panic. That’s when he remembered. There’s one person who can help him. “Please hold on just a little bit longer. I-” he choked out a sob. “I know someone who can help you.”

Kiibo didn’t respond.

Ouma carefully tugged his lover into his arms and wrapped the latter’s arm over his shoulders. “I got you. I got you. Please hang on!”

He walked towards the crazy scientist’s shack just 10 minutes away from their current location. It was then did Ouma discover how exploitable Halloween was, considering how no one thought it was odd to see his bloodied clothes and even more bloodied companion. They all simply dismissed it as nothing more than an elaborate trick. How Ouma wished that that was the case.

           BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Enough with the knockin’ already! I ain’t Willy Wonka, now fuck off back to your mother’s womb–ah?” Iruma paused to take in her visitor’s appearance. “Ouma? Whaddaya want? You didn’t seem like the trick or treat type. You even lugged your boyfriend’s hot piece of ass here.”

“…Fix him.”

“Ah?”

“I said fix him!” Ouma’s voice cracked. “You’re the…you’re the only one who can do it.”

Iruma gave the albino another once over before stepping aside. “Get in.” Her brows furrowed. ‘I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do…but I’ve never worked on a corpse before. This would be a little troublesome…’

                     ————————————————

“Kiibo~ Kiibo~ How was my performance? You were watching, right?” The bells in Ouma’s outfit jingled with his every movement.

The albino said nothing at first, blinking once, twice, before caressing the performer’s cheek. “…G…ood.”

Ouma melted into his lover’s touch, letting out a pleased hum. He involuntarily squeaked when he was suddenly tugged into the other’s arms, feeling the albino’s teeth nibbling on his neck. “H-hey! Later! Not in public!”

Kiibo merely responded with a grunt, but he pulled away regardless. No matter how much time passed, Ouma couldn’t stop himself from taking in his lover’s appearance. He had two bolts on each side of his head to keep his skull in place. Most of his body were covered in stitches just to keep himself together.

Iruma told him that a portion of his brain had to be removed since it had been badly damaged by the initial blunt force trauma he received from the wine bottle Ouma impulsively grabbed during that night. Because of that, Kiibo lost a good portion of his memories, his emotions, and is even struggling with speaking complete sentences. But somehow…he remembers Ouma. He remembers loving Ouma. And so the only person Kiibo would actually exert the effort to speak to was the raven-haired performer. His lover. And his killer.

Whenever the others asked, Ouma had no choice but to lie to them. Telling them that Kiibo got hit and run by a drunken driver while they were on a date and that Iruma was the only one capable of saving him at that time since there weren’t any hospitals nearby.

“I love you,” the words had left Ouma’s lips before he could even think to stop it.

Kiibo didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted the shorter male’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. He didn’t say a word, but Ouma understood that Kiibo loves him back. Only an idiot like Kiibo could ever love him unconditionally, after all.

[alchemisland]

Wizards and Lizards - II

Easy as a switch flicked, he starts on in his stage accent, 'That's because I'm not a clown, you afroed goat. I am a seer. I am an oracle to rival Delphi. I choose not my gift, merely I am a mouthpiece, a vessel to amplify the will of the universe. A clever man once said that we, humans, are a way for the cosmos to know itself,' He points to the stars, then with soot-stained hands invites Bozo to look around, 'only some are born to more knowing than others.' He traces a button's circumference with his index finger, then nods glibly to finish.

'Drop it, Shiree. I've heard the shtick. Save it for the horny cowherds.'

The seer flashes a toothless smile. His thin lips, for his sins, were etched in a permanent sneer, two pale pigmentless worms that barely quivered when he talked. 'If what I heard from those sows is true, your knees must be sore. Will we see if I've a tincture for it?'

Bozo spits and stoops to his haunches, oversized strides mudcaked ankle to knee. One foot is unshod, his favoured poulaine lost in the fervour. 

Argument was futile. He knew how this went, concede defeat or argue until the seas dry. Shiree never let a thing go, not a borrowed penny, not a stringless favour, let alone an exchange of barbs.

Bozo sighs, 'We'll argue until the cows come home. Forget it. What's your plan anyway, magic man?'

Shiree laughs, all arch and theatrics even in direst straits. 'Strange you'd have to leave when the cows come home, is it date night already?'

'Fuck off.' Bozo exhales a plume of cigarette smoke, the same foundry grey as the steam-laden morning mist. Shiree imagines a dragon vomiting carcinogenic fire, selfsame as those stitched on his breast.

'No spiel, master jester. Merely my tongue and the secrets of the Gods. There are no plans either. The Perfumed Persian makes no plans, he alters the fabric of the universe to suit his desires.'

'Fine, have it your way, sandman. In what manner will you alter the fabric of the universe?' Bozo, growing impatient, taps his foot like a heated beast.

'I appreciate your correction, but I must rudely ask that you rescind your request for information. Shiree discusses not matters of celestial importance with baseborn whelks.'

Bozo poises to sigh again but stops himself mid gasp, realizing his last ten breaths had been sighs, which medically is considered hyperventilation. 'Have it your way, Wizard.'

He stood enormous, a modern titan. Six foot three easy, no mean feat in crueller ages, when only the silkskinned could afford to import the top tiers of the nutritional pyramid. His shoulders were broad, built for tossing bails, although one could not easily tell through his baggy playsuit, a loose fitting one-piece decorated with blue and orange orbs, twinned with yellow stripes. The platforms he wore performing raised him six feet eleven.

A profound stoop resulting from excess spine made him appear glum, eyes always to the ground, though he was of pleasant temperament, if not charismtically challenged.

'If you fancy a jaunt I'm bound for Duffy's. Lecho said he's looking for performing types for the jubilee. Shouldn't take three nights hard going.' With that he leaves, turning at the gate to see if the imp followed which he didn't. The forest's mouth devours him. 

Shiree begins to mutter. 'Shiree wanders not in the company of minstrels, lest their airs be praising him.' His child's knees barely buckling to stoop, he leans and picks up Bozo's cigarette still smouldering in the muck. He wipes it clean before bringing it to his lips, whispering the magic words into the moist filter. Smoky tendrils curl animatedly from its charred tip, shifting to form an ethereal bowl suspended in the air, smokelike and strange, at once foggy and clear, diaphanous almost. Shiree stands on his stilts and stares hatefully into the summoned cauldron. Quicksilver bubbles below.

It shifted in the fashion of living thing, a writhing mass of metal worms. Finally settling, the sheen parted in the center to reveal a vignette unfolding, a living dream in thin air. The Magician watched the Fool struggling through the dense foliage, pinecones exploding beneath his heavy tread, darting like a frightened deer trying to gain any sense of direction. He fell crossing a fence, hoist by own enormous shoe. Tumbling backwards he fell some distance, rolling toward the base of the rise, crashing into a patch of briar. He rose from the undergrowth patting the breast pocket of his overalls, desperate for a woodbine. Finally luckless, he cursed, crushing the empty box in his bailed fist before casting it aside. Pushing himself upward he pressed onward with grimfaced determination, displaying a dogged courage Shiree reluctantly respected.

The silver smoke shifts to form a drama. Bozo is far from the circus, dumping pebbles from his shoe in a clearing. Filth encrusted, bramble whipped and generally dishevelled, he had never been closer to the lanky streak of misery the mean kids used to accuse him of being. Shiree smiles. Now whose countenance could freeze time. A fire crackles, sodden overalls dry on a branch. When the mud dried, Bozo would scrape it away with a twig.

Resourceful knave. A keen scout.

Shiree whispers more gutturally into his cup of mist. Hell winds brew in the lungs of the earth mother and she exhales from her cavernous maw a breeze to shake Babel. Howling through the makeshift camp, the wizard's tempest attacks. Bozo holds his wig tight. Stumbling, he seeks shelter in the breast of a hollowed oak. For a moment he sees the flames resist and is emboldened, tongues wildly lashing in every direction, but the gale persists on until the fire gutters, then splutters and dies.

All calms. Leaves dance downward at an owl's flight. Its departure marks the end of Shiree's vision. Before him a viscous liquid rises, filling the sucking void where the projection had appeared. The bowl disappears like smoke in a hurricane.

This is his true gift. Possession of animals. Mostly birds and bugs. Occasionally wolves and larger creatures were employed, when mother necessity called. Transformations require enormous energy. He would require rest before another attempt such-like. Until horizontal, he feels cloudy, his instincts dulled.

This gave a hint as to what went on behind the wizard's curtain, to coin a phrase. Patrons eager for good tidings sat wide-eyed while Shiree asked the birds. Robin, breast inked with Christblood, what is prophesied. Wag tail bouncing by the brook, what whispers the ripples. Crow, sagely corvid, obsidian Prince, permit me thy portents.

Of course the owl, a favourite, offering a circular view of all creation. When the Persian asks, the birds respond. Their caws yield the secrets of creation and knowledge of all men. Never anything less than grizzly; visions of starving farmers prying open the coffins of dead children to pry rings from fingers; wives blood-soaked, trowel in hand. He spares the unwashed masses the true horror of their cosmic destiny.

Shiree is sick of the circus. Sick of howling faces, cackling hyenas. Laughter contorts the face and makes apes of men. He hatee acrobats, envying their sprightliness, making him further loathe his twisted form.

He hates clowns most. Hates being considered among their number. In the ancient world clairvoyants were elevated to high societal positions, close to the ears of pharaohs. To converse with the Gods was to become a God. Present culture did not glorify his gifts.

Following the mummer's trail, Shiree enters the woodland with its churchlike vaulted ceiling. Trees, every length and thickness meet, forming a thick umbrella. Ducking between the sturdy boughs, he emerges at the familiar clearing. Evidently some thought went toward its selection, situated inside a natural ridge formed by mossy stones and thick entanglements of spadelike hogweed. He locates the remnants of Bozo's passing. Inside a stone circle shining with mica, embers glow. 

For the site of Bozo's demise, he chose a festering swamp, planning to nestle in the brackish swell, sink beneath the algal covering and bide his time until the moment struck. Where else could Bozo go but through?

He rests a while in the wooden cloister, the heat of its former occupant present still. At last restored to peak wickedness, he follows a trail of single bootprints, as if tracking some unilegged abomination to its marshy abode - the wounded Grendel toward his domain lurches.

Shiree came to the boundary shore between mulch and black mud, marking the forest's domain from that of the festering swampland. Bloated and buzzing, enormous bloodsuckers make homes among the roots. Corklike reeds project from the silty banks across its breadth like tangled crossbeams give the illusion of security. Truly if one fell, a proper tumble necessitating outside agency, any branch grasped would snap like an old man on a rugby pitch.

Amphibious lizards wait, half buried in the silt like filthied statues, snapping should any shoal of lesser denizens dawdle. A menagerie of killers for the wizard to choose from.

Shiree enthrones, planning evilly from his newfound eyrie. He utters incantations blunt and meandering, each to the same fatal design. Feeling the hard surface against his backside, he wants vengeance all the more. That a man such as he should be forced to take counsel on a boulder was insult enough to warrant retribution.

It would be a crime of passion, a passion of crimes. He tosses back his head and met a beautiful sight. However the canopy met, with its various dips, hollows and straightways like avenues on a map, the carved light met him in golden bars.

This will do, he smirks.

[scarletraven1001]

Villainous

A Vegebul Fanfic Collab with @supersaiyanerd

Summary: Bulma is a genius, but has decided that she wants to use her brains for evil. Yet what is a Supervillain, without a bit of muscle?

Enter Vegeta, a mercenary for hire. He is tough, and frankly terrifying, and his brawn clashes with her brains in a cosmic power struggle that leaves the good guys in a real state of panic.

Never before has evil been so deliciously exciting.

Also on Ao3.

8-8-8-8-8

Chapter 1: The Supervillain’s New Henchman

8-8-8-8-8

Failure was not something that Bulma Briefs was good at.

She had never really, actually failed before, so she was rather sore about failing now.

It wasn't even as if it was a real failure, or so she liked to think, but more of a… Temporary setback.

She needed that damn medallion.

She just couldn’t get over the fact that she was not able to acquire it as quickly as she had anticipated.

She didn't like waiting. She was not used to waiting.

Bulma was a woman who had been born with everything within her reach.

Coming from a wealthy family, she had always had everything she needed, whenever she needed it, and in all the colors available.

She was beautiful. Long, silky hair, the color of a cloudless sky, with bright blue eyes and lips as pink as rose petals. She had fine, alabaster skin, perfect teeth, and a voluptuous build that had men panting after her wherever she went. Thus, it had always been easy for her to use her feminine wiles to get her way.

Most of all, she was incredibly intelligent.

She had a certified genius-level IQ and an uncanny skill for public speech.

She had been slated to run her family's company since she had learned to read and speak three languages at four years old.

She finished high school at thirteen, two Bachelor's degrees at seventeen, her Master's at nineteen and her PhD at twenty-one.

She had the world at her feet, an arguably perfect life…

And she had been bored beyond belief.

She knew that there would have been millions of women - maybe even men - who would have traded places with her in a heartbeat, but to Bulma, her life had been one tedious, never-ending cycle of being immaculately gifted and perfect, and she detested it.

She needed something different…

Something exciting.

The answer came to her one day, when she was at another one of her boring philanthropic luncheons, an esteemed guest after she had invented a state of the art method for terraforming a nearby exoplanet so that the government can use it to plant rice. A police detective had been one of the speakers, and he had spoken about the various tricks and lengths that evil masterminds would go through.

He spoke about working in tandem with West City’s superhero, the Great Saiyaman, and his son, the Great Saiyaboy.

The detective had then said one thing that forever changed Bulma’s life…

“Well, I suppose being a supervillain could be exciting, but sadly for them, they could never get away with their crimes…”

It was like he had just given her a bold dare, and Bulma realized that she wanted to see the look on his face when a supervillain managed to pull off a successful heist.

Bulma realized that what she needed, to escape the monotony of her dreary existence, was to become a supervillain.

Which led her to her current predicament.

She had been doing well as a minor villain, but Bulma was nothing if not an overachiever, and she wanted to be the most super Supervillain to have ever… Villained.

And so, she needed to make a powerful supervillain-superweapon, but to make that, she needed a supervillain-super-powersource.

She learned about a special little trinket that had just been brought to West City a few weeks ago, a small medallion from an ancient warrior race that, under the right conditions, had enough elemental energy to power the entire northern sector, and she needed it for her newest invention.

She had gone into the museum, intent on stealing it, when she was thwarted by none other than the Great Saiyaman.

What ensued, after he had decided to take the medallion back, could not even be called a struggle, since he had basically plucked the item from her hands, not even breaking a sweat as he retrieved the medallion from her thin fingers.

Bulma got to thinking… She had all the know-how, but how was she going to win when the good guys had the strength to overpower twenty Bulmas in one flick of a finger?

She needed to be stronger, but she really hated the gym, and would not be caught dead trying to do weight training…

But then again…

She didn't have to do the heavy lifting, if she could just pay someone to do it for her now, did she?

Perhaps… She can just… Hire a strongman?

Bulma quickly looked into her online network, looking for ad space.

She needed some brawn to assist her brains, and she was gonna have to start looking for the perfect thug to act as a minion.

Bulma Briefs, Supervillain Candidate, was hiring.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta Prince was not the type of person who enjoyed quiet. He’d grown up in war zones, on battlefields, in the purest messes of chaos, and had always risen above victorious.

So why in the HELL was no one looking to hire him?

Hours upon hours, day after day had been spent looking for work, looking for something to spare him from the mind-numbing boredom. And nothing had come up.

Maybe destroying a city or two would calm his nerves. It was something to do.

Just as he was about to get out of his chair, he heard a telltale ping!, alerting him to a job opening on a job site he was subscribed to. With his otherworldly speed, he clicked it.

 Wanted: Henchman

I am a villainess looking for some muscle, especially muscle that can take on The Great Saiyaman and his son.

 Vegeta stopped for a moment, his eyes lingering on the name. That Kakarot, walking around in spandex, defending all that is good, saving the distressed and protecting the innocent. It made him want to vomit.

 I am willing to pay a very high price for anyone who I deem worthy enough to be my henchman.

If you wish to prove yourself to me, send me an email at bulmagoesbad@briefs2.com for a pre-registration.

Go to the highest peak of the West Mountains on Monday at 8:00am.

The rest will be up to me.

 Vegeta pondered for a moment. Whoever had written this, they were clearly new. Inexperienced, maybe even some pathetic weakling who did it for some tragic reason.

But on the other hand, it was a job. And that was exactly what he was looking for.

And a chance to beat Kakarot and his brat into the dirt? It appeared the pros far outweighed the cons.

Cracking his knuckles, Vegeta Prince grinned, knowing business was good once again.

8-8-8-8-8

“I am Spike the Devilman!” cried the man in the strange blue suit as he stood with arms akimbo, a pose meant to be menacing. He had large, webbed wings and a pair of huge green horns, with large pointed teeth and pinkish claws.

He looked like a bat. Not a devil.

Bulma wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained.

Just because she was a supervillain now, didn't mean she could be rude.

“I can fly!” he said, lifting off on his thin wings, before brandishing a pitchfork that Bulma hadn't even seen on him before.

“I can use this weapon for combat! Watch me!”

He then proceeded to do aerial acrobatics that had Bulma finally give in to the urge to roll her eyes, before she turned back to her pre-registration list.

She groaned.

She had spent the entire day with not a single ideal candidate in sight. And batdevil here, was the last man on the list.

The most promising one had been an android who reminded her of the typical portrayal of Frankenstein’s monster. He had been strong and had the terrifying bad-guy henchman looks, but it all fell apart during the interview, when she realized that he was more harmless than a three-day old puppy.

This was hopeless.

She let the last candidate fly around a bit more, before she finally called him down.

“Um,” she began when he looked at her expectantly.

“You are on the shortlist!” she lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I will call you back.”

The man beamed, before he gave her a short salute, and flew off.

She sighed.

What a waste of a day. Perhaps she could set up another screening schedule.

She was about to get up to place the small table, chair and umbrella set that she was sitting on back into her storage capsule, when she heard a loud, indistinct rumble go off in the sky.

She stood up, turning her head to look for the strange sound, when a very small but sudden, concentrated explosion a little to her right made her jump, a terrified squeak leaving her lips.

“What the hell?” she screamed, spinning to face the direction from which the unexpected attack came from.

There was absolutely nothing there.

She scrambled to encapsulate her things, sticking the tiny containment unit into her pocket before she turned once again to survey the sky.

She pulled a small laser gun out of her utility belt, pushing the folds of her white lab coat back so she can crouch slightly, gun at the ready.

Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and while she was scared, she realized that this, this, was exactly what she wanted, why she decided to become a supervillain. This rush, the adrenaline and danger…

Whoever had attacked her, was taking his or her sweet time.

“Who the hell are you? Show yourself!” she called out.

An answering blast of light came from her left, and she responded with a few blind shots of her laser gun.

She realized belatedly that she really should have brought more defenses and weapons, but dammit, she was new at this.

It wasn't like she got a full job orientation.

The ground started to shake, and she stood stunned as she realized that the entire mountain range was now pulsing with violent energy, emanating from a spot just a few meters away from her. It was concealed by a small hill, but Bulma could see dangerous flames of purple ki leaking out from the sides, and she realized that whoever, whatever this attacker was… Was extremely volatile.

She shot at the small hill, willing the attacker to appear, but even after the small hill had been decimated by the blasts, the attacker remained hidden.

She saw a flash of movement, and she straightened as she understood that her attacker was now on the move.

She tried to follow the streaks of blue with her eyes, despairing as she realized that the attacker was just too fast.

She felt a gust of wind blow through her, and she held her gun to her chest, noting with apprehension that the attacker was drawing nearer.

Another flash of blue appeared to her right, and she spun, lifting her gun to fire, only to feel a powerful tug at her wrist, a second before she stared in horror at her now empty hands.

The attacker had taken her weapon.

Eyes wide, Bulma scrambled to try to run away, but before she could even deign to move, she felt a powerful cage of limbs wrap around her, trapping her frail arms close to her torso, holding her immobile against a hard, unyielding body.

“Let me go!” she screamed, lifting both legs up to try to force her captor to lose balance, but the being remained firm, lowering a malicious head to breathe harshly against the back of her neck.

She saw a thick shock of spiked dark hair from the corner of her eyes, a moment before she heard a deep voice growl into her ear.

“I am here for the henchman vacancy. Please, pardon my tardiness.”

The arms unlocked from around her, and she scrambled away, falling painfully onto her hands and knees, before she turned around, sitting on the ground as she stared up at the man.

She brought scared but indignant eyes up to meet an intense gaze, blacker than the darkest night and sharper than a warrior's blade.

The dark hair she had glimpsed before stood in a riotous flame-like wave, drawing down into a severe widow's peak that slashed over a stoic face with thin, stern lips and an angular jaw.

She noted that he wasn’t too tall, but his body looked hard enough that it could have been sculpted from stone, with firmly defined muscles and thick arms covered in light caramel skin.

He was wearing a blue tank top, tucked into a pair of the tightest pants she had ever seen, showcasing powerful thighs and leg muscles that clearly explained how he could have moved so damn fast.

He was impatiently tapping his gold-tipped white boots on the hard ground as he stared at her impassively, watching her marvel over his form.

“If you are quite done drooling over me, I suggest we begin your screening methods so you can hire me,” he said, voice arrogantly loud, shocking Bulma into alertness.

“Excuse me, who are you?” she asked irritably, getting up to go toe to toe against the frankly terrifying man. “You're not on my list of applicants.”

“I did not bother sending an email since I knew I would be the best that you can find,” he smirked at her, raising a brow as his lips formed a mocking smirk. “Am I incorrect?”

She sputtered, unable to deny it.

Deciding not to even dignify him with a response, she crossed her arms, huffing.

“Well, could you at least tell me your name first so we could get on with the interview?” she asked, staring up and down at his very impressive physique.

He leaned his weight on his right leg, cockily crossing his arms across his chest, and Bulma could have sworn that the smug bastard flexed his biceps as he moved.

He puffed up his chest, and with a low, raspy voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, he growled.

“My name is Vegeta Prince, and I will be your new strongman. Let me see whatever trial you have in store for me, and I guarantee, I will complete it.”

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta looked curiously at the woman who could potentially become his employer.

To say that he had been surprised upon seeing her would have been a monumental understatement.

He had no idea, that the person posting that stupidly simplistic ad was, in fact, an incredibly beautiful woman.

He had been expecting a jaded old lady or a large, monstrous female who wanted world domination as revenge for a terrible life.

However, when he saw her atop that mountain, glaring dejectedly at her increasingly ridiculous applicants, he couldn't help but be intrigued at why such a good-looking person would decide to pursue the life of a villain.

Well… As if he should talk. He was pretty damn striking, if he did say so himself.

Woe betide anyone who dared to disagree.

Yet, he had his reasons. Vegeta was born to be destructive, his powers were literally all about destroying things and he did not have a well-meaning bone in his entire body.

This woman though… she was rather soft-looking, with pinkish white skin and baby blue hair that screamed innocence, and yet here she was, on the lookout for an evil henchman. He watched, interested, as the woman politely dismissed the last of the morons who had come for the job vacancy, and he cracked his knuckles as he decided to show off a bit, as his method of introducing himself.

It had worked very well.

The woman was definitely interested, if the darkening flush on her cheeks and the hastening beating of her heart was any indication.

“This job is mine,” he thought smugly as he stated his name, and the woman defiantly stared back at him, raising her chin as she stood up to full height.

“Well Vegeta,” she said. “My request is simple. Show me what you’ve got.”

He grinned, a wide and feral smile that showed off the sharp edges of his teeth.

“Well then,” he growled. “Get ready to be truly blown away. I assure you, I am not like anything you have ever seen before.”

“Well, then, dazzle me,” she dared. “I just had all the other applicants show me their powers. Come on, let's see what you're capable of, homeboy.”

He hooked one arm under her armpits, and the other under her knees. He smirked at her pink-stained face, shifting his weight from one leg to another, before he, without warning, shot into the sky.

He smirked snidely at the terrified screams that his sudden action wrenched from the woman’s surprisingly foul mouth, and his smirk turned into a full-on grin as the blue-haired woman gradually ceased her yelling, as she realized with blatant fascination how high they had actually flown.

“You can fucking fly!” Her eyes went wide with awe. “Not one of the other applicants could do that. I mean, the guy before you could, but it was with wings, and he wasn’t this fast. You… You can actually fly. No wings or gadgets or anything!”

He grinned. “If you think that's impressive, watch this,” and without a single hint or warning, he let her go.

He listened to her scream as she fell. He looked between her and the distance from the ground.

500 feet.

400 feet.

300.

200.

100.

Once she hit 50 feet, he shot down, and easily scooped her into his arms once again.

She was shaking.

Honestly, he knew she could have handled it.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” She looked at him, her cheeks flushed red, but now from rage.

“You said you wanted to see what I could do.”

“I didn't mean dropping me from 600 feet in the air, asshole!!!”

He watched her shake, and slowly, her body went still. Her eyes met his once again. “While that was a dick move, I will admit that was impressive. Your speed is phenomenal, and you do appear to be able to control your flight quite well. I guess you can show off a little more.”

He grinned, and she sighed. “And by that, I mean you can show off without trying to make my body hit the ground at terminal velocity.”

He soared back into the clouds, spinning around, doing loop-de-loops, watching her face light up. Oh, he surely had this in the bag.

At one point, he flipped his body upside down, holding her only by her wrists. She screeched, but he assured her he wasn't going to drop her this time. Her feet sliced through the clouds, and he could hear her laughter at the sight.

He touched down onto the ground, and watched her stumble as her frail body started to become used to being on solid ground once more.

“Oh wow!” she cried. “That was amazing! That was tons better than a roller coaster!”

He smirked. “Of course! I could fly ten times the speed of the fastest carnival rides. The speed I showed you just now was nothing.”

“Well,” she answered, her flushed, happy face seemingly lighting up the gradually darkening sky. “If you’ve still got more of that in you, how about you take me back to my lab?”

He raised his brows. “Why woman… We’ve only just met. Isn't it rather early to invite me back to your place?”

Her face flushed another interesting shade of red, and she stomped one foot on the ground, drawing a laugh from within his chest.

“First of all, you asshole,” she said through gritted teeth, “my name is Bulma. Bulma Briefs. And secondly, I need you back in the lab so we can perform a strength screening!”

He held a hand out, and the woman gladly took it. He used that hand to pull her up to him until he had her small body in his arms, before he lifted off, going straight up into the sky.

“In which direction?” he asked.

“It's in the very center of West City, Capsule Tower 3,” she answered, and he nodded, taking off.

However, something seemed strange about that location…

“Is that not a very visible area? Why would you put your lair in the center of the city?” he asked confusedly, peering down at the woman in his arms.

“Well, it’s my building. I figured, why not use it as my evil lab?”

He snorted. “Gutsy. Dumb, but gutsy.”

They flew the rest of the way in silence, until he finally saw the top of the tall tower, blinking up at him through the clouds of the early evening sky.

He landed on the helicopter helipad, placing the woman down on her feet.

“Follow me,” she instructed cooly, leading him to a small elevator near the edge of the wide rooftop.

The elevator hummed an infuriating tune as they descended, before it finally stopped, opening up into an expansive space with extremely high ceilings, filled with inexplicable little gadgets and complex machinery.

“Vegeta,” she said, turning to him as she stood at the entrance. “Welcome to my laboratory!”  

He looked around. Metal was scattered everywhere, blueprints were strewn all over the walls in favor of wallpaper, and a large computer covered one wall.

Various unidentifiable gadgets filled the large area, interspersed with what appeared to be advanc3d robotics and a large tank full of green liquid.

He had to admit, it was impressive.

“And what exactly are we doing here?” He stared at his future employer, her eyes glowing in the light of her super-computer.

“Oh, right! The strength screening!” She ran off, and he sat there for 1 minute, then 5, then 10, and finally, after about 20 minutes, she ran back in, holding 3 spheres.

“Here you go!” She grinned at him. He raised a black eyebrow.

“And you brought these, why?”

“Well, each one is made of a different alloy. This first one,” She held up the one at the far left. “Is a pure steel alloy. Each alloy is stronger than the last. You see, the Great Saiyaman has extraordinary strength, and you'll need to be on par with him if I'm to steal the medallion I need. So what I want you to do,” She gave him the sphere she was holding. “Is crush each and every one of these.”

He looked at her, then at the spheres, then back at her. “You didn't have any of the other candidates try this.”

She shrugged. “You are able to fly, and the blasts you fired at me had quite a bit of punch to them. So, I'm sure crushing these things will be no challenge.”

He looked at the sphere in his hand, and crushed it as though it were merely paper. “Like that?”

Her blue eyes widened. “Exactly. Damn, when I said crush it, I did not expect this. You literally turned it into a pancake.”

He smirked, and took the next one, and crushed it like the last, again showing no problem flattening it.

“You just crushed solid titanium. Basically the hardest metal on the planet. Ok. Wow. Well,” She held up the last sphere, smirking. “This is made of some of the hardest metals on the planet, and some from meteors, don't ask, in order to create what is theoretically the hardest metal to exist. I’d like to see you crush this.”

He took it from her hand, and tried to crush it like the others, but found it was harder than the last two. He had to admit, the woman had brains, because he had never found anything he couldn't crush with ease. He gripped harder, harder, and finally, the sphere gave. The blue eyed woman smirked, a victorious grin on her face. “That is definitely strength that will give the Great Saiyaman a run for his money.”

He smirked, “Woman, this is the strength that can crush Saiyaman and his insipid excuse of an offspring.”

“Confident, aren't ya?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in appraisal.

His smirk just widened further. “I am fully aware of my own capabilities.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma looked thoughtfully at Vegeta as she realized that he, in all his cocky, evidently overbearing glory, was undoubtedly the man that she needed for the job.

He was brilliant.

He was absolutely perfect.

His skills, his power, and that amazing strength… it was what she needed to defeat the Great Saiyaman.

He was also rather infuriating, but she was damn sure that she could live with that.

Putting up with the attitude would be worth it.

“Alright, Vegeta,” she said straightening to her full height. “I can see now that you really are the best man for this job. I wish to offer you a job as my official Henchman.”

He smirked, bringing his fists together and cracking his knuckles in glee.

“Good,” he said. “I am looking forward to it. Now… About the compensation…”

Bulma, stopped him by pulling out a small square of paper from her pocket, and she pushed it up to his face so he can see the salary that she was offering.

He whistled. “Not bad.”

“So you accept?”

“Looks fine to me.”

“Great!” she beamed, before she turned around, heading for a large table at a corner of the lab.

She sat down on the large office chair, and motioned at one of the cushy, small couches in front of her table.

“Take a seat, please? I’m just printing out your job offer, which I already arranged this morning. Just need to fill your name in,” she said, typing down on her keyboard as she squinted at the screen.

She pulled the job offer sheet out of the printer and held it out to Vegeta, who took the paper from her with a look of apprehension.

She went and entered his name into another document that she also printed, and handed to Vegeta as soon as he was done reading and signing the offer sheet.

His brown rose as he looked at what she was holding out to him.

“What on Earth is that?” he asked.

Bulma blinked. “Your employment contract.”

Vegeta’s eyes were wide in disbelief. “You… you want me to sign an actual, legal, employment contract?”

She cringed slightly at his question. “Duh! Of course! I may be a Supervillain, but I still need to follow labor laws. I would hate to get on the workers’ union’s bad side, you know?”

“I suppose,” he muttered, looking over the document, before pausing at a particular clause.

“Wait,” he said. “This part… Does this mean I get overtime pay?”

“And health insurance! With dental!” she beamed.

Vegeta shrugged, and after a few minutes, he laid the paper down on her table so he could sign it.

Bulma smiled. “So hey, I’d hate to rush you, but can you start on Wednesday?” she asked, giddy.

The tough, terrifying man blinked openly at her. “Today is Monday.”

“I know.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, before he answered. “What the hell. Sure.”

“Great!” Bulma said, extending a hand to Vegeta. “I look forward to working with you, Vegeta-san.”

He smirked, before he took her hand, and shook it with a firm, nearly arrogant grip.

“As do I, Bulma-san.”

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…

[hughshannon1994]

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[lopithecusfanfiction]

Bitch, Me Too!

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 4490 Alternate: AO3, fanfiction.net Summary: Dick is having trouble coming out to Bruce as gay. Little does he know, something that is happening right in front of his eyes between Bruce and Clark, would make it a lot easier to do so if he wasn't completely missing the cues. Warnings: 

Mild Language

Humor

Obliviousness

Dick being bad at interpreting relationships

Author's Note: This is for TheResurrectionist, aka @frownyalfred. I hope you like it!! ❤❤ 

Based on forwnyalfred's post here: [X]

This is my first time writing in Dick's point of view, so hopefully it's okay. :) Enjoy!!

Dick is many things; funny, smart, irresistibly handsome. But one thing he is not, is someone who has an easy time talking to Bruce ‘Grumpy’ Wayne. He honestly doesn’t know how Clark can do it, let alone put up with the man for longer than an hour at a time. Their friendship, though Dick is glad for it, to this day confuses him. Still, Bruce is Dick’s adoptive father and so it’s only right for Dick to somehow tell Bruce the things that are going on in his life. Or, at least, important things. Bruce really doesn’t need to know everything about Dick’s life and probably doesn’t even want to know everything to do with Dick’s life.

That’s how Dick finds himself wandering down into the cave where Bruce is currently going over reports, with Clark floating there beside the man, legs crossed, while eating a ham and cheese sandwich that Alfred probably made. Dick hums as he approaches and peers over Clark’s shoulder, breathing in the outdoorsy, windy smell of the Kryptonian. Clark might be fifteen years older than him but that isn’t going to stop Dick from indulging in his childhood crush.

“Hmm, that smells good,” he says, not clarifying if it is Clark he’s talking about or the sandwich. He backs off and moves to the side of Clark. “Alfred makes a mean sandwich, doesn’t he?”

Clark smiles brightly at him and Dick is reminded exactly why he had such a huge crush on the Kryptonian back when puberty struck. “He does. Y’all are lucky to have him here.”

Dick snorts a laugh but doesn’t miss Bruce’s annoyed huff at Clark’s use of y’all. Dick honestly doesn’t mind it when Clark’s Mid-Western accent starts coming out and if he was still a teenager swooning over the man, he probably would have flushed bright red at the thought of how cute it is. But he currently has another cute meta on his mind. One that he has to finally get the nerve up to telling Bruce about.

He bounces on the balls of his feet and listens to Clark’s soft chewing and Bruce’s consistent tapping on the keys. He holds his hands together behind his back. Dick doesn’t know how to start the conversation. Bruce most likely already knows that he is gay but Dick still feels the need to come out and say it. It’s just easier said than done. Especially when it comes to Batman. After all, Bruce doesn’t like it when discussions turn into the topic of feelings.

“You forgot the first e in accoutrements,” Clark points out, mouth full of sandwich.

Bruce’s fingers pause and Dick waits for the forthcoming lecture of how Bruce doesn’t need to be corrected. Except it never comes and Dick’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the scene in front of him. Instead, Bruce glances over at Clark briefly, before hitting the left arrow key several times and then typing in the forgotten e. “Thank you,” Bruce says as the end key is pressed and Bruce continues with what was being typed.

Dick scratches the top of his head. Bruce must be in a good mood because if he had mentioned something, then the preaching surely would have come. He decides to forget about it for now and move on with his own predicament. “Um, Bruce, can I speak with you for a minute?” Bruce grunts Dick’s permission to continue and Dick peeks in Clark’s direction. “Alone?”

Clark coughs, hand in front of lips, and lands on the stone floor. “Oh, yeah, no problem Dick.” Clark smiles at him and then reaches over, placing a hand directly on the back of Bruce’s neck. Bruce isn’t wearing the cowl so it gives Clark the perfect opportunity to massage it with a few squeezes before turning around and heading up the stairs to the main house. Dick watches this strange form of affection, only recalling seeing such a thing once or twice before between the two. But, of course, the way their friendship is displayed, is weird to begin with. He pushes that out of his head as well.

Bruce is facing him now, right elbow resting on the armrest and chin in hand. “What is it?”

“Uh…” Dick pauses, realizing this is a lot harder than he had anticipated. Once again, he doesn’t know how to start. How do you tell Bruce ‘Batman’ Wayne, the epitome of female seduction, that you are gay? “I…” You don’t, that’s how. “I just wanted to let you know that I will be staying in Gotham for a few days and so Nightwing will be seen around.”

Bruce stares at him in that way Batman does, as if the man is reading every inch of your body and then some. As if Batman is looking into your soul and seeing all your deepest, darkest secrets. Dick squirms and Bruce speaks. “You had to have Superman leave to tell me that?”

“Well…”

“You don’t need to inform me if you are going to patrol Gotham. You used to live here.” Bruce turns back to the computer and Dick silently sighs.

“Right. Sorry.” He turns, starting to head towards the stairs. “I’ll send Clark back down.” Bruce just grunts in acknowledgement.

*~~~*

A few days later, Dick decides to try again. Bruce is in the office, at the computer, and Clark is sitting in one of the chairs with a laptop out. The Kryptonian even has those stupid looking glasses on that make Dick blush every time he sees them. Clearing his throat, Dick looks away from Clark before his face can betray him.

Clark looks up and smiles. “Hey Dick.”

Daring a look, Dick smiles back, feeling the slight heat in his cheeks. “Hey Clark, how’s it going?”

“I’ve got this article I have to finish before eight tonight and e-mail it to Perry.” The Kryptonian frowns down at the computer screen. “If I don’t, then Perry will have my head… again.”

Dick chuckles. “What’s it about?”

“Lex’s newest project.” Now Clark is scowling.

Before Clark can elaborate, Bruce is talking. “Luthor’s been smuggling in materials to create some kind of super weapon. We’re assuming, and taking all precautions, that it will utilize Kryptonite.”

“My job,” Clark continues, sticking a tongue out at Bruce for Bruce’s interruption. Bruce just rolls those too observant eyes. “Is to expose Lex and his plan. I’ve already got all my witness statements. I’ve just got to type it up.”

“But that’s easy for you, right?” Dick asks, walking over to Clark and glimpsing at the computer screen. “I mean, you can just use your super speed, right? As fast as the computer can keep up?”

Clark chuckles but Bruce is the one who answers. “He won’t.”

“Why?” Dick asks, finally making his way to Bruce’s desk and perching on it.

Still Bruce answers. “Because he’s an idiot.”

“Because,” Clark starts, shooting Bruce a playfully annoyed look. “That would be cheating.”

“Only you think it’s cheating Kent.” Bruce never glances up and so misses the way Clark’s mouth turns up at the corners in amusement. “You would get a lot more work done if you just used your powers.”

“And you would be the first one to whine at me about taking advantage of my powers in selfish, unnecessary ways.” Bruce grumbles in answer to this, glancing up at Clark for a second before going back to looking at the computer screen. Clark chuckles, shuts the laptop, and stands. When next speaking, Clark addresses Dick. “I assume you came to talk to Bruce?”

“Yeah,” Dick answers.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” Before leaving the room, Clark stops, hand on the knob, and turns to face Bruce. “Oh, Bruce, can I stay for supper?” Bruce hums. “And afterward?” Again, Bruce hums and Clark’s smile grows. “Thanks.” Clark is then gone and Dick is left in confusion once more.

“I don’t get it.” Bruce doesn’t even spare him a glance as Dick starts talking. “I mean, all you did was hum at him and he knew what that meant. He’s good.” Bruce hums. “Are you trying to prove a point now?”

“What do you want Dick?”

“Right.” Dick sits where Clark just was. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“If it’s about extending your stay here, then you are more than welcome,” Bruce says, sounding distracted.

“No, that’s not it.” Dick clears his throat. “Bruce, I’m-” He cuts himself off and this causes Bruce to finally look up at him. “I’m-” Dick swallows. He’s not sure why he is having such a hard time telling Bruce that he is gay. It’s impossible to hide anything from Bruce so Dick will just be telling the man something that Bruce already knows. It’s not a big deal. Even so, when Dick opens his mouth next, what comes out is, “I’m kind of frustrated with my agility lately. Do you think you could help?”

Dick almost slaps himself in the forehead for saying such a stupid thing and he would have it weren’t for Bruce looking at him as if he grew a second head. “Your agility, from what I’ve witnessed over the past couple days, is fine.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. Could you just help?” Bruce is still looking at him as if he isn’t Dick Grayson, acrobat extraordinaire. Dick almost groans but refrains.

Bruce goes back to the work on the computer. “Fine.”

Cheeks aflame with embarrassment, Dick gets up and leaves the room.

*~~~*

The next day, Dick is walking to the kitchen, absolutely determined that today is the day to come out to Bruce. He is done chickening out. On his way, Alfred strides by him with a basket full of dirty clothes. On top of the pile is a very prominent, yellow and tan plaid, long sleeve shirt. Dick does a double take as he peers at the article of clothing, turning a one eighty just to get a better view of it. “Hey Alfred.” Dick jogs to catch up with the elderly man.

Alfred stops, glancing back at Dick. “What is it Master Dick?”

“Is that shirt Bruce’s? When did he start wearing plaid?” Dick asks, grabbing a cuff of the shirt and feeling the material. It’s even flannel.

Alfred has a raised eyebrow and takes the sleeve out of Dick’s hands. “This shirt is Master Clark’s.”

“Oh!” Dick exclaims, shoving his hands into his pocket to resist the urge to grab the soft material again. “Did he stay the night?”

“Indeed, he did, Sir.” Alfred begins to walk again and Dick lets him go.

It’s not all that strange that Clark stayed the night. The Kryptonian had done it all the time when Dick was younger. The only thing that is strange about it now, is that Alfred is doing Clark’s laundry. He’s never seen Alfred bring plaid shirts and khaki pants to the laundry room before. Or, at least, if Alfred has, then Dick has never witnessed it. Though it does make sense, Dick supposes. If Clark stays the night, then, in Alfred’s eyes, it’s only right for the Kryptonian to leave in the morning with clean clothes.

Dick shrugs and heads to the kitchen again. When he gets to the room, he stops short at the sight that greets him. Clark is standing there at the stove, red and black plaid shirt on and glasses placed on his nose. Dick has never seen anyone other than Alfred cooking in the kitchen before let alone Superman. It takes him by surprise and he honestly doesn’t even know what to think about it. Sitting at the table in a silky, black button up is Bruce, laptop open on the table.

Dick looks between the two, Clark whistling and Bruce grumbling. He goes and sits at the table across from Bruce. “Good morning?” Bruce spares him a quick glance but doesn’t say anything, grumbling even louder at whatever work is currently on the computer.

“Oh, don’t mind him.” Clark walks over and sets a plate of waffles down in front of Bruce and Dick. “He’s grumpy this morning.”

“Isn’t he always grumpy?” Dick can’t help but make the comment and it earns him a snort from Clark along with a pat on the head by the Kryptonian.

Clark gazes at Bruce, smiling playfully. “He is.” With a chuckle, Clark backs off when Bruce glares at them. “I’ll be right back.” Without warning, there is a gust of wind and Clark is gone.

“Where did he go?” Dick asks.

Bruce never looks up, completely focused on what he is typing. “We’re bound to find out soon enough.”

“Does he do that often?” Dick pours some maple syrup onto his waffle, eyeing Bruce’s and wondering if the man is going to eat it. “Just disappear like that suddenly?” Bruce shrugs with a hum but never really answers Dick’s question. Dick decides to continue musing. “I mean, we do it a lot but we’re us. He’s Superman. Don’t you think he shouldn’t do that?”

Bruce sighs and hits the backspace key several times. “I’m not his keeper, Dick. He can go and do whatever he wants, when he wants.”

“He can?” Dick is surprised by this. Normally Bruce would have an hour-long rant about how Clark should act more professional as Superman. “You mean when he’s Clark Kent?”

“When he is in any persona,” Bruce’s fingers are typing away again, lips thin.

Dick scratches at his chin, studying Bruce as Dick chews. “So, it’s okay that he does it when he’s Superman and, let’s say, in the middle of a conference?”

Another sigh and Bruce finally looks up at him. “Dick, as long as he has a good enough reason, then I really don’t see why I should be concerned.”

“Okay, whatever.” Dick pauses, waiting for Bruce to focus on work again. “I’ve actually been meaning to tell you something.”

“Okay,” another burst of wind and Clark is standing next to them again, holding a brown paper bag, officially cutting Dick off. “I’ve brought you two some croissants.”

As Clark is pulling the food out, Bruce looks up at the Kryptonian and smiles. Dick’s whole entire world stops spinning because, Bruce smiling? It’s a rare occurrence to begin with but having that Bruce, the real Bruce, smile directed at Clark, is almost nonexistent. Dick doesn’t see that small grin directed at Clark very often and it makes his own lips pull at the corners. He might not understand their friendship, but he sure does love seeing it.

Bruce grabs a croissant. “Thanks.” The man bites into it and chews thoughtfully. Swallowing, Bruce asks, “Did you get these from-”

“Your favorite café in France?” Clark’s smile is warm. “Of course.”

Bruce huffs and to Dick, it almost sounds endearing. Clark places a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and squeezes while Dick contemplates when Clark and Bruce had gone to Paris and ate at a cafe. Bruce hums in appreciation. “Thank you, Clark.”

“Anytime.” Clark smiles at both Bruce and Dick. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to get to work. I’ll see you later Bruce.” The Kryptonian speeds out of the room.

Bruce turns his attention to Dick. “So, what is it that you needed to tell me?”

Dick shrugs and gets up, carrying his croissant and plate with him. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter right now.” He gestures to the laptop. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

When Dick gets to the kitchen doorway, he turns around briefly to peer at Bruce. The man is back to typing, eating his croissant from a little café in France.

*~~~*

Clark is pacing down in the cave next to Alfred when Dick wanders down there. By the time Dick gets to the Bat-Computer, Clark is bent over a microphone and pressing a button. “Bruce? Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Bruce’s pained grunt comes from speaker. “I’m… fine.”

Dick watches as Clark’s lips thin, the Kryptonian holding his tongue in order to not anger Bruce by saying something that will be regretted. “What’s going on?” he asks, leaning over the desk to look at the computer screen that is displaying Bruce’s fight. Batman is bruised and bloody, his suit in tatters. Dick bites his bottom lip nervously as he watches. It doesn’t look like Bruce is doing very well out there as the vigilante fights not only Bane, but Killer Croc as well. Dick presses the button to talk to Bruce. “Hey B, you want me to come out and help?”

Another pain filled grunt as Bruce is slammed against the brick wall of a building. “If I didn’t want Superman’s help,” a grunt, “then I don’t want yours.”

“Bruce,” Clark says, leaning close to the microphone. “Please, please listen to me. You need help. Let me help.” Dick has never seen the Kryptonian in such distress before. “You can’t do this all by yourself.”

“Clark,” Bruce snaps as the vigilante dodges a punch from Bane only to bump into Killer Croc who bites one shoulder. When Bruce screams, Clark is gone, the wind from the speed making papers fly everywhere.

Dick watches the screen and all he sees is a blue and red blur that flies across the screen, knocking Bane and Killer Croc out. Batman, who is hunched on the ground, is picked up by the blur and then Clark is back, carrying Bruce bridal style. Dick can already see the grimace of anger on Bruce’s face as Clark sets the man down onto a cot. The Kryptonian starts helping Bruce strip out of the Batsuit but Bruce pushes Clark away, snapping. “Get off me!”

Clark flinches back, hands turning into loose fists. “I was only helping Bruce.”

“I told you I didn’t need it.” Bruce yanks off part of the suit, dropping it angrily to the ground. “I didn’t need help.”

“Yes, you did!” Clark retorts, crossing arms. “You’re just too stubborn to see it.” Bruce’s eyes narrow but the man says nothing.

Dick steps forward. “I agree with Clark, Bruce. You were getting beat out there. If Clark hadn’t stepped in…” Dick trails off, the thought of what could have happened to Bruce sinking his heart. Bruce could have died in this fight. Dick thinks about all of the things that he would regret not telling Bruce, all the things about his life and his feelings. About Wally. Dick swallows thickly and places a reassuring arm on Clark’s shoulder. “I’m glad he saved you Bruce, even if you aren’t.”

Bruce stares at them and Dick hears Alfred cough. Bruce sighs and slumps on the cot. “I know and I’m sorry that I snapped at you, Clark.” Bruce looks up at Clark and there is something sincere in the man’s eyes that Dick doesn’t know how to read. “You know I appreciate you being there for me. I just sometimes forget that I need help.”

Clark doesn’t say anything at first but eventually the Kryptonian takes a step closer to Bruce and pulls the man into a tight hug. Clark’s fingers card through Bruce’s hair. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Bruce’s arms come up and wrap around Clark just as tightly, if not tighter. “I know.” Clark pulls away and smiles down at Bruce. Then the Kryptonian’s eyes widen a little, lifting up. “What is it?” Bruce asks Clark.

“A fire in California.” Clark frowns down at Bruce.

Bruce gives Clark a reassuring smile. “Go. I’ll be fine. Alfred can patch me up.” With one last smile and squeeze to both of Bruce’s shoulders, Clark is gone in another puff of air.

Bruce sighs and finishes getting undressed as Alfred approaches with needles and gauze. Dick takes a deep breath and sits down in the chair, feeling exhausted despite not really being as worried as Clark earlier. As Bruce gets stitched up by Alfred, Dick reaches out to a mug that is sitting on the desk, turning it around so he can read the print on it. It’s a Smallville mug and Dick scrunches his eyebrows at it. He’s never seen it before.

“When did you get this?” Dick asks, indicating the mug.

Bruce looks over nonchalantly, not even flinching as the needle is pressed into skin. “It’s not mine. It’s Clark’s.”

Dick studies the mug, contemplating. “Since when does he bring his own mugs here?”

“Since,” Bruce starts, getting up from the cot much to Alfred’s annoyance. “It’s his favorite mug to use.”

“But… why is it here? Why did he need to bring it here?” Dick asks.

Bruce’s eyebrows furrow. “It’s his favorite and he wants to drink out of it.” Bruce grabs the towel that Alfred offers him, wiping sweat off of his blood soaked neck and chest. The towel stains red but most of the ones down in the cave are already carrying the same discolorations anyway. “Why?”

Dick shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just never seen it here and I didn’t expect Clark to bring a mug of his own just because he’s unsatisfied with ours.”

“It’s not that he is unsatisfied,” Bruce watches Alfred pick up the shredded Batsuit while talking. “It’s just that he prefers that one.”

Dick blinks, still not really understanding. Clark has always, from what Dick has observed, been perfectly fine with using their dishes here at the Manor. Why bring his own all of a sudden? Shaking his head, Dick decides to push the thought away for now. Tonight’s event has shown Dick that he can’t wait any longer to tell Bruce his important news, because there may come a day in the future when it will be too late.

“Hey Bruce?” Bruce stops walking in the direction of the bathroom. “Can I talk to you?” Bruce nods once, draping a clean towel over his unbitten shoulder. “I have something to tell you.” Dick squirms under Bruce’s scrutiny, the man looking at him as if bored. But Dick has to do this. It’s now or never. “I’m gay.”

Bruce is silent at first with absolutely zero reactions. The man just watches him, hip cocked slightly to the right, and left hand holding onto the towel. Bruce makes no move, no sound, nothing. Then, as if playing with Dick, an ear splitting smile appears on the man’s face. The next thing that comes out of Bruce’s mouth, Dick never thought he would witness. “Bitch, me too.”

Dick’s mouth falls open as he gapes, not trusting his ears to have heard right. “What?” Bruce huffs and rolls blue eyes, turning around to start walking towards the shower. Dick catches up to him. “Wait. What do you mean ‘bitch, me too’?”

Bruce looks at him from the corners of those eyes. “I was trying to be funny. Obviously, I failed.”

“What do you mean you were trying to be funny? Trying to be funny by calling me a bitch or funny as in you’re not really gay?” Dick grabs a hold of Bruce’s shoulder, the one that isn’t bit, and stops Bruce from walking. “Please talk to me.”

Bruce sighs, turning to Dick. “The bitch part. I saw it on some drag race show. What was it called?” Bruce snaps fingers. “RuPaul’s Drag Race. They use it all the time. All T, no shade. Isn’t that what you kids say?”

Dick shakes his head, stunned. “No.”

Bruce blinks at him a few times before shrugging, starting the journey to the shower once more. “Oh well.”

Dick watches the man go, mouth agape again. He shakes himself out of his shock and once again chases after Bruce. “Wait! You’re gay? Since when?”

“Uh, since puberty.” Bruce nods at him, entering the bathroom that is located in the cave.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Dick asks.

“I didn’t think it was important. It’s not a secret and you didn’t ask.” Bruce turns on the shower, sticking a hand under the spray of water to test the temperature.

“Bruce!” Dick exclaims. “You’re hitting on women all the time. How the hell was I supposed to know?”

Bruce’s eyebrows are furrowed again, reaching down to remove the boxer briefs that are being worn.  “Because I’m dating Clark.” Bruce says it as if Dick should have already known that bit of information about the Batman’s life.

Dick’s jaw comes unhinged and hits the floor. “You’re… you’re dating Superman?” Dick reaches up and grasps onto his head. “Since when?”

Bruce steps into the shower, grabbing the shampoo. “A few years now.”

“A few years!” Dick spins around on the spot, pulling on his hair now. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I thought you knew,” is the only response Dick gets.

“But… but I’ve never…” Dick flounders, trying to figure out what to say. “I’ve never seen you two be intimate with each other. Do you even kiss him?”

Bruce’s raised eyebrow tells Dick exactly what the man thinks of Dick’s question. “You’ve seen me be intimate with him plenty of times.” Dick gestures for Bruce to continue, completely at a loss. “Our teasing each other, Clark’s small squeezes on my neck and shoulders, Clark cooking breakfast and bringing me croissants from my favorite café in France, the most recent one was when Clark hugged me just now.”

“That is not what I mean!” Dick practically shouts in exasperation, although he doesn’t mean to yell in the confines of the bathroom. “I mean embracing each other for longer periods of time, cuddling, hand holding, kissing.”

Bruce is looking at him as if he’s crazy. “We do that in the privacy of the bedroom.”

And just like that, it all makes sense to Dick. “PDA.” Dick runs a hand through his hair, trying to bring a little order back to it. “You don’t like public displays of affection.” Bruce is no longer looking at him, faint pink tint forming on the man’s cheeks. Dick smiles wide, happy and giddy at his discovery. “Well, Bruce, I hope you don’t mind seeing PDA because when I bring Wally over here, there’s going to be plenty.” He winks at Bruce and laughs when the only response he gets is an eye roll and Bruce chucking the shampoo bottle at him.

Dick dodges the bottle, cackling, and leaves the bathroom. He feels happy and satisfied now that he finally has that weight off his chest. And in hindsight, he now realizes just how ridiculous it was to be afraid of Bruce not accepting him as being gay and in a relationship with Wally. He also learned that he needs to be more observant, considering how many signs went completely over his head, but that’s beside the point. His adoptive father not only accepts Dick for who he is and who he is currently dating, but Bruce is also dating the best superhero in the world.

And really, what more could Dick ask for?

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed Res!! Thanks for reading!!

[theworstjedi]

Conquer Attachments

Friyr hefted the sack of feed over his good shoulder and waited for his ‘deficiencies’ to catch up. It was almost dusk, and the light waned low but still bright. On Kaas, it would’ve been pitch by now, but Ambria was merely a filtered low gray. Friyr didn’t depend on sight anymore than a Miraluka did. The dirt smelled pungent from the heat rapidly cooling the sand as though bringing out the smell of the musty underlayers. It coated his nose and made it dry. He carried grain into the storage sheds, while dragging his limp left foot in a trail behind him. The instep pressed into the dirt, which wedged into a clod in his sandal. It made the connection between his hip to his knee to the ground firmer than if he tried to support it on a flat sole.

Water lapped in his ears, and the oro-birds’ racous clucking settled into a murmur. Nights on Ambria were silent. Friyr knelt onto on knee and heaved the bag forward over his shoulder, almost going prostrate as he used his full body for what would’ve taken only the upper arms for a normal man.

“I can’t do it yet, Master.”

Elutherius’ skin burned. He didn’t need sight to know his wrists were a raw red, blistered bubbling on the surface of a red tattoo shaped into the Imperial seal. The palms of both of his hands felt raw where the edges of the lightsaber pressed into his skin. He resisted the urge to manacle his hands around them and rub the ache away.

“Look at me.”

Elutherius lifted his head in the gray darkness to the hulking silhouette.

“Look at me.”

Elutherius closed his eyes, pulled the weariness from his bones, like Quirt had asked just one more thing of him on an already bone-weary day, and drew in a shaking draught of Force.

When he opened them, his vision flickered blearily between the lines of blindness and unnatural sight that the rods and cones should never have been capable of. Blurred watercolor blended with sharp seven feet lines of wine-dark Massassi.

Elutherius met the yellow eyes.

“Good, Apprentice. Explain why you can’t.”

His Master’s tone was sharp. Businesslike. Urgent.

Elutherius was seventeen, though he looked younger than that.

“I need a smoother grip to fit my hands and—” Elutherius pulled his shirt up without a lingering trace of shyness for his body. He caught a glance at his hard but gawky teenage muscles fit on a slender frame still filling out and at the same time losing the last bits of babyfat clinging to the Korriban sinew. He was smooth. Pale. New blemishes of spotty brown freckled over his stomach and shoulders but they were healing into peeling skin. A few, very few pink scars traced what had been deep scabby gashes over his ribs.  They caved in as though broken and unset in healing, like his face. A warped dip.

“—and this. This hurts when I move. It makes it harder to do.”

The Massassi gazed at him a few seconds, and Elutherius met it unabashed. He took out his lightsaber and flipped it in his broad, thick, four fingered claws. “Apprentice.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“When I ask for an explanation, I expect it to be one we can both work with to overcome. Do I look like a medic?”

“No, my Lord.”

The Massassi turned on his lightsaber and raked a line down Friyr’s ribs with the tip. A loud sound filled the Apprentice’s ears. It was elegant really, like drawing a red strike through in pen that severed only cloth and cooking muscle but not bone.

Elutherius collapsed to his knees, registering that the sound was him screaming, and he lurched forward onto his hands, feeling his torso sag below his trembling shoulders and his Lord unkitted him. The heat built in a flash, never relenting, and it was only until his chest hit the floor, that he realized his Master had stabbed the lightsaber into his side, wrapping the wounded parts of him from the front of his the chest to the backs of his shoulders in a searing band.

“Give me an explanation,” Elutherius made out as tears fogged his eyes and the unnatural vision dissipated with them, but rather writhed within him as his tried to admit defeat. To curl up.

“I can do it I can do it I can I can--!”

The red beam retracted from the side of his vision, and everything went dark.

“I can do… it.”

“Good. Then get up and do it.”

Elutherius pushed himself to his feet, black eating the edges of his vision. Hearing began to turn from solid sounds, to faint liquid echoes. He fell again, smacking his chin on the metal of the landing pad. Something cracked. He tasted blood.

“There is a penalty for making me empty promises, Apprentice.”

Elutherius fought for consciousness. To stand before he was punished, but the lightsaber flared, and he felt the burn as more of him cauterized against his will, his helplessness used against him. This time. This time. He knew the screams were his own.

The shed was cool. Dark. Empty. Friyr slid his fingers under his shirt. He couldn’t feel much through the smooth scars in either his hand or side. A faint pressure of five tips, but—nothing more. Lord Ignolis couldn’t hurt nerve endings he’d permanently burned away. Friyr traced that absence methodically until his knees protested against the rough wooden floor. He staggered to his feet using the wall.

He dropped his hand from under his shirt and sighed. In time he’d learned through struggling and curling on the ground how to fight back, and eventually the Force buoyed him to his feet. Wicked and dark. There had been many more punishments.

Some of them had been his own errors, as he threw the debilitated side forward, letting people carve him because the scarred tissue was that thick. Their throats constricted in fear because he could take it. Without that he was just… Friyr flexed his arm into a curl and felt the deep current of numbness run down it. He suspected a muscle in his shoulder had been cut, but he couldn’t be sure.

Without the Force, Friyr was disabled. His ability had always been achy, limited, and he’d enjoyed building his strength past what people expected. He’d enjoyed getting stronger, but not by feeding on the Force. Not like this. No amount of muscle or hard work would fix the permanence of this.

Friyr left the shed and locked it up. He locked the Oro-bird coops. He heard the crunch of the dry dirt and the drag of his other foot through it. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Not about that. He’d find a way. He always did.

“If you work with me, I’ll work with you, Teran! That’s all I ask! Kriff, I won’t even fight you about the med bay anymore!”

Friyr stopped outside his shed and looked up at the sky. It was a filtered gray pink that hurt his eyes.

When Teran had left, Friyr had expected it. His days on Tython had been sunlit and lonely as any Jedi milling around the half-bombed out temple had avoided him. Teran said he suspected Friyr was his purpose, that he’d had a feeling. Friyr, of course, had learned not to trust people a long time ago. They always had their own ends, even types like the Jedi that clung to altruism. They just didn’t realize what their own ends were.

But a feeling. Friyr trusted the Force, if not the headstrong, cocky, acrobatic-obsessed, young Jedi – who preferred to dance among the stars, rather than spend time with his Padawan on the ground. That was—fine. It was supposed to have been fine because Friyr didn’t trust people with red-hair and a way-ward temper because they loved falling into that stereotype.

Friyr snorted. Everybody knew the one.

But Teran had left a sizable hole, that Friyr had stumbled through into freefall. Stupidly trying to control his decent. People didn’t stick around. Jedi were afraid with people touched by darkness. It was stupid to trust that he’d stay, and Friyr didn’t expect As’traa to either. She needed the encouragement that she could do this more than he needed to know that she’d fail him as a Master.

She’d get him a new lightsaber; he’d understand what the hullabaloo was about, and he could ask questions along the way. She’d get what she wanted; Friyr wouldn’t have to form another…attachment.

“I liked Tython, but I knew too that was an attachment.”

Friyr had a smaller trail of people who had abandoned him, died, or had used him than most. Most dragged trains of flesh and tears behind them, but that didn’t make it easy for him to maintain.

Slavery was a hard profession. He’d learned how to serve someone without being too invested, to separate his thoughts form his work, to find moments of acceptable pleasure and indulge them while remaining impartial.

“It is control of your emotions Jedi emphasize not…not having them at all.”

“Slaves too, Lockham; slaves too,” Friyr sighed and let a warm wind carry his words away.

“This is… problematic for some. Like yourself, I suspect.”

When Friyr was around fourteen, he had fallen in love with a boy. Probably the second one he could remember loving. When Friyr was fourteen, he’d been a slave. When Friyr was fourteen, he already knew his chances were nil. His ability to desire, love, crave affection were broken in by the training he’d voluntarily submitted to and the years of service, since before he’d started losing teeth. Since he was a child with no food. It had been a wise decision, and it remained one. Slaves didn’t feel love at the same luxury that everyone else did. When people held food, comfort, and liberty over ones head, they fell victim to affection, false ploys of tenderness, and that was why Friyr had been a good slave. A clever one. Because he knew about this weakness, not because he’d been above it.

He balanced himself, he gained footing in the political game by using his master. When he’d fallen in love, he’d dealt with it. Managed it. When he’d became a Sith. Well…

He watched that boy grow into a man, Apprenticed under his father, and the future of having a title, land, a future beyond a well-fed death under someone else’s servitude was finally his; it had been all he’d ever wanted. As a Sith, he’d allowed himself, finally, the small luxury of uncalculating an emotion never meant for an equation. He’d allowed himself to soften control. He’d allowed himself not just indulgence of love but indulgence to create lasting connections beyond his own benefit.

Elutherius couldn’t remember what he had for lunch yesterday. Most people forgot most errant things, such as lunches. But then again, Elutherius hadn’t remembered anything for a long time except the voice of the Force, painful and beautiful in paradox, she shifted between acerbic mocking tones, paragraphs crusted in old blood, hungry pleads for fresh wounds, and soft decay. It was hard to hear anything else when she filled Elutherius’ head, drifting into different pitches as easily as a kaleidoscope did patterns. He felt compelled to listen to these echoes that had no true sound or language, deriving his life by the echoes of what might be his own mortality.

She spoke often about that in ways he heard clearly, like darkness pressing in on his eyes. She spoke about the end of things, and he understood the way the words fell from her lips like so much rot. If only because, latently, he was included in it. It was as though someone had locked eyes with him, while speaking on something otherwise innocuous seeming to the room at whole. All things worldly came to an end, but Elutherius had a sinking feeling she watched him in particular. The way scavengers did men on their way to death.

The world…sort of passed by. He listened, but he was unconscious of his own role in it. One day phasing from a moment of clarity in a towering mansion of cold metal the next across town and shivering in the middle of a warm rainfall having a familiar conversation.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” she said. Again.

Rivulets of grease ran down her face. Elutherius watched the trails through the yellow incandescence of his unnaturally lit and unnaturally sighted eyes. Dead eyes. He appreciated the detail, even if it was something so unappealing such as filth from an unwashed slave just finished her duties.

The balcony railing pressed into his forearms as they leaned against it, staring out into the dark silhouettes of thick foliage and canopy watching taxis go by to avoid looking at each other. The city dropped below.

Elutherius’ lips, heavily scarred from the trenches he’d carved into them, stretched into a warm smile that made him look severely aged rather than a walking blight.

“You’re so—” A shock of lightening darted through the thick clouds and cast Elutherius’ wasting broken face into light. Her eyes cast down on reflex.

Elutherius cleared his throat; his light golden robes swayed in the breeze. “I’ve looked better.”

The young woman gave him a soft smile. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Elutherius glanced around at the outside of the Mandolorian Enclave, remembering the cold of the slave quarters at night with a strange fondness. It was a relief to have something so distant as an overworked cooling system stir something in him that awkardness of lumping the heir to a legacy with anything as trivial as a slave passed him by.

“The times I feel clear are fewer and further in between,” he said to a pane of grey. The rain knocked sharply on the full-length glass and the metal. It sounded a little like living in a tin can with thick insulation. The Mandolarian Enclave had been last week. Elutherius ran the memory through again over the fading whisper of the Force, but he found he couldn’t remember anything before Danara welcoming him home.

“Small price for ruling the world.” Was what she’d said next, but Elutherius couldn’t remember his response. Or even having existed past that point. It had something to do with him having been made Sith from the workings of a slave, no doubt. Or maybe it was having been made a slave from the workings of a Sith. To the Sith? He had been enslaved to the Sith, but that didn’t seem right.

What had she said again?

His head grew louder until the memory was eaten by both sides, and he felt himself expand into a sea of voices that connected the galaxy. He hummed to the tune they seemed to be pattering out and tried to cup his thoughts in his hands.

It was time to unlearn that.

He didn’t remember who he had been. Continued through numb routines. Friyr edged around the back of the Oro-bird coops until his feet smacked softly against wood. He and Sahley had sat there earlier. This anger wasn’t normal. This loss of memory wasn’t normal. This depersonalization wasn’t normal.

Sahley felt normal. He was down to earth, and sad. Quiet. He was interested. He sounded like Friyr’s age in timbre, and boy did his body certainly feel and respond to Friyr’s like it was thirty something. He was cricked, starting to develop aches….but pleasantly pliant. Falling out of youngness, but he was still so young.

He was an idealist. He believed in hope and thought Friyr was interesting because he was covered in scars, and talked openly about hardships like they were nothing. It attracted him, he listened. Friyr felt like a person when drawing the Mirialan in. Because Sahley let himself be controlled and wowed by someone who seemed as world-weary as he was.

“I realized too that was an attachment.”

If Friyr tried hard enough he could become red, down to earth, quiet, and sad while barking orders because someone else was somewhere in the Empire. For once he understood what he had felt like at fourteen. Perhaps thirteen. He remembered that balance. He remembered keeping people at a comfortable distance, while also serving in perhaps sensitive ways. He understood that he couldn’t stop people. He couldn’t break Force bonds. But he could handle his attachments, and he could let them float away on the wind.

Friyr was good at duty, he was good at serving. It had taken a long time to beat down the frantic angry Sith who forgot that.

[loimestudios]

Bull in a Curtain Shop, Pig in a Snare, or Learning To Be Graceful When You Feel Like a Walrus Caught In a Dragnet

by A. Len Bell

When I was young my mother was a seamstress and we spent endless hours in fabric stores. It was, I was sure at the time, the worse possible punishment she could ever inflict on me. I would have chosen almost anything else besides being surrounded by swaths of fabric, but here I am 40-odd years later and my life is again wrapped up in tapestries.

Five days a week I go to a class where I twist and contort my body in directions it never thought it should go, suspended above the floor in meters of silky fabric which prevent the performer from crashing to their death, while simultaneously crushing the nerve endings of any appendages that get trapped in its folds. It is the aerial arts and it is possibly the hardest physical struggle I have ever committed myself to - and I’m no stranger to pain and struggle.

I believe if my Marine Corps drill instructors had any idea how much pain they could inflict within this discipline, the infamous scenes of recruits struggling through calisthenics in sand pits might  be replaced with those prospective Marines hanging in locks, knots and inversions, in rows of colorful hanging silks. Of course, I’ve never seen men’s tights in camo though. That might just be a good thing, but we’ll talk about clothing options in a moment.

At 20, I was into bodybuilding and powerlifting. This led to seven years running and gunning in the Navy, which of course led to six more years in the Marine Corps, because sometimes you just need more demanding  discipline in your life. It was there I participated in Eco-Challenges, marathons, and triathlons (along with all the other aspects of life as a Marine). I tacked on a few more years in law enforcement where I participated in the LEOpard Challenge on ESPN and passed my qualifications for the SWAT team. I was a powerhouse, running up to 45 miles a week, pumping out double digits of pull-ups with ease and laughing at ab workouts. I felt indomitable, but 10 years ago, my life took a turn when an accident left me broken. After nearly 20 years of fighting the good fight, I was given a retirement and a medal and sent to pasture. For the better part of these past 10 years, I was lucky to manage some living room yoga and an occasional walk, but that often relied on canes, crutches, orthopedic shoes and braces. There were metal parts involved and limited range-of-motion was written all over my medical charts.

During this time I started taking my kids to a local parkour and aerial silks gym where they thrived, dangling in the silks. The gym also offered a gymnastics course where the coach tailored her instructions for us physically challenged parents. After some encouragement, I started handstands and back bends. I discovered some innate talent on the rings, and after some surgery to finally repair my broken ankle, I suddenly felt like it was time to start crawling out of the sedentary quagmire I had been wallowing in for the past decade.

I did (and still do) enjoy the gymnastics course, but my attention kept getting drawn to the aerials class where my kids were having such a great time flying with ease up and around those drapes of fabric. I was envious, so when my wife asked me to start taking silks classes in preparations for a duet performance with her, I thought it was an excellent opportunity to explore this intriguing new discipline. At the end of the first class, I dripped down the silks like my profuse sweat into a puddle on the mat below. I felt like an aquatic mammal, finally succumbed to the death of being trapped in a fishing net, but the instructor complemented me on keeping my toes pointed. It was all the encouragement I needed; I was committed. I was ready to buy the “I am an Aerialist, What is your Superpower?” t-shirt - despite laying on my back unable to lift my body.

Thanks to the caldron of genetics, leftover powerlifting mass and the affects of aging, I am short, greying and am roughly the shape of a barrel. I have more than once felt like I was fighting a losing battle attempting to grip slippery fabrics, hanging perilously in “Strongman” while fighting to keep 200 pounds of me from crashing to the floor below. I am hanging there and my ligaments, tendons and bones are reminding me of every violence ever committed on them - every broken finger, wrists, shoulders, hips, ribs, etc., etc., etc, is aching. Sometimes I think the only old injuries that aren’t hurting at that moment are those on my head, and I’m sure if I don’t keep holding on, those are going to be hurting too. I am horrible at remembering the names of the poses, but as I cling to the fabric while wrapping footholds and inverting upside down, I have imagined the poses I am actually performing are: Side-of-Beef-on-a-Hook, Pig-in-a-Snare and Bull-in-a-Curtain-Shop. We should not forget Walrus-Trapped-in-a-Fishing-Net either.

I do have my winning moments too when my regaining strength coupled with some progressing agility allows me to perform some acrobatic maneuvering that feels right, and in those moments, I feel the appeal of this art. There is a deep satisfaction to striving through difficulty, working through the burning muscles and rashed skin and constricted appendages to settle into a new pose and know that it is beautiful (because it is painful, according to my instructor) - not just to those watching, but to yourself, the performer. I watch my classmates work through routines and I know their struggles are different, but the results are the same: satisfaction with a dash of desire for doing just a little more the next time.

Watching them, each with different bodies, different skills, and different abilities, I always contemplate my own differences - because I am not only the heaviest person in class, but I’m also the least graceful. And I am the lone male. While there are a few other adult men who are involved in other levels of aerials, we are a scant few in ratio to women participants. This is not a complaint by any means. While there are many compliments I can make to my fellow female aerialists, I must admit the most positive aspect I can think of is this: There are no bros, and thus, there is no Axe Body Spray.

This does bring up an important point about gender disparity within the aerial arts.There seems to be a perception that it is exclusively for women and their gay boyfriends. I am reminded of my kids’ first aerial class. As they made their way from parkour to the silks, the boys all went off to sit on the sidelines. One young boy grabbed my son’s arm and said, “Don’t go over there. Only girls do aerials.”

We had worked very hard to raise our son and daughter free from gender stereotypes. My son has long hair, my daughter is a specimen of toughness; and in that moment I beamed with pride in my son as he told that boy, “No. I think it looks like fun.”

Since those days when he was the lone boy in his class who participated in aerials, I’ve seen those numbers steadily climb as other boys have taken up the challenge and art of aerials. I hope this is a sign of change in our culture that blurs those arbitrary and unnecessary lines between the sexes. While I am thankful I’m not tangling myself in man-spray scented silks and my female compatriots are not fighting off offensive come-on lines, I do look forward to a day when there is more equal options for appropriately clothing myself for aerials. My female counterparts wear some amazing leggings and tights. While they aren’t absolutely necessary for performing aerials, I can’t see any benefit to wearing baggy basketball shorts when you are working on creating smooth transitions from one position to the next, and I’ve found the options in male leggings are either made with underwear waistbands because they expect men to wear something over them, or they come in the singular black option. Their one singular trait seems to be that no company making leggings for men realize that I, their customer, have an ass, so I’ve taken to wearing women’s leggings because at least I’m not having to make the mid-air decision between not crashing to my death or keeping my dance belt from showing, though that reminds me I should rename that maneuver Whale-Tail-Caught-in-a-Harpoon.

While I started writing this because I felt out of place as an overweight male in an art dominated by lithe women, I realized this is all a metaphor for what women struggle with in their everyday lives. Trying to find a place in traditionally male dominated sports and professions, struggling to make things more beautiful despite feeling like the oddity, fighting with societal expectations of body imaging and finding appropriate clothing suitable to show the beauty they wish to share with the world.  

It makes me thankful, despite the fact they are facing lower pay and harsher treatments in the workplace, and fewer option in their lives, while they fight to keep their rights as humans in this current societal climate with male politicians making decisions about those rights, the sisterhood of aerial artists around me accept my presence in their world without prejudice and understand the joy and beauty it provides me, so to all of you, I say, thank you for letting me join your struggle.

RESOURCES: Gender Disparity in the Aerial Arts http://www.aerialsilksatlanta.com/2013/07/11/gender-disparity-and-the-aerial-arts/ Aerial Arts for All Body Types http://www.adiosbarbie.com/2011/09/aerial-arts-for-all-bodies/