#ortega is always big spoon either way

[trebuchet151]

Old school netflix and chill with sidestep era Corey and Julia

[autistic-sidestep]

questions about suranga ! why did they pick their name / do you think it fits them ? what is their gender & sexuality ? what are their (romantic) relationships like ? what is their motivation, either in general and/or to pursue villainy ?

alright let's go!

The name ‘Suranga’ when i originally looked it up while trying to name him meant something like divine? It apparently also means orange, which is funny cos of his arrogance and daring stats lol, though he was more of a bluestep when i first made him, so yeah, oddly fitting. As for why he picked his name, I think I decided it was a name someone he almost came to see as a parental figure in his pre-vigilante days would’ve given their kid, if they’d been able to have one. In some ways, that was his way of honoring them and it was the first thing that could be his (if also something residual from farm training and people-pleasing to need someone else to pick).

he could’ve gone for something more common but then again, it wasn’t a name he was intending to share with anyone else until ortega, otherwise, he was always giving fake names. whether suranga actually believes he still deserves his name, though, honestly varies with his self-loathing levels. this guy has so many complexes lmao.

Genderwise, it’s kinda a mess? At first seeing ricardo on the news gave him some gender revelations, starting to id as a binary trans guy and staying stealth with the rangers (and it was def comforting to know there was a fellow trans man on the team, even if he and sentinel were never close) but it didn’t fully feel right? Then post second escape and through puppeting yasmin he gradually realizes oh, the whole girl thing isn’t so bad when it’s on his terms (or close enough), yoink, my gender now. As yasmin he’s a lot more confident, so he basically trials things he’d never be able to do as himself through her and post-debut, he gets a little bit bolder with his own body.

i’m ultimately imagining whatever mess in books 3 or 4 happens if ace gets their body back like this:

suranga: sorry abt the whole bodystealing thing thanks for the gender tho

ace: ???

Obv with the whole maintaining two different identities thing (without even factoring in argos post-debut), the Autism™, and never really having a stable sense of self thanks to cuckoo training (plus SO MUCH TRAUMA), it’s hard to actually pinpoint what his gender is, at best i’d say something like uh, genderqueer/genderfluid?

Sexuality is similarly a very big mess. He’s definitely aspec/some kind of aroflux, and his ongoing secret crush on ricardo is a jumble of ortega being his first real friend (and not letting anyone else close enough to have other points of reference), and being a simultaneously touch averse AND touch starved mf, and also the gender confusion triggered by ric before even meeting him (‘do i want to be him or be friends with him??’) so suranga’s whole ability to determine if it’s romantic/sexual attraction or platonic feelings is very very fucked. With ortega specifically they used to be very close (he thought the world of him tbh), but with ricardo hovering since their reunion he’s trying to keep him at arms length, because he’s very aware how well ortega can read him. He can’t help but go back to ortega in spite of his efforts to stay away, partly because he wants ortega to stop and/or help him but doesn’t know how to ask, or if he can.

He’s honestly very clueless on the chen attraction thing. There’s the baggage from having known eachother back before, but also post-heartbreak he can better relate to chen (which includes a mutual hatred of stairs!) because of the chronic pain/fatigue problems he’s had to deal with, and spoon is also a big factor - he does prefer cats, and his own cat Fred in particular that stayed with elena after HB,, but getting to hang out with spoon is pretty good too.

As yasmin, he becomes very fond of mortum, but he’s not sure he’d call it romantic attraction, though they might’ve flirted a bit at the start. Suranga really enjoys the doctor’s company and respects her a lot, in part cos it’s so fun to nerd out over tech stuff, and there’s none of the baggage that comes with ortega. he’d rather not compromise that friendship by stringing her along, so I think he makes it clear at the gala on the feelings? i’m still working out his canon route, but for sure he tells mortum the truth in retri. 

Also his flirting as yasmin bleeds over into his argos persona when he fights with argent. he def likes playing with fire lol. Romantic relationships are a big ????

However, in general relationship terms, he’s pretty familial with rosie and his crew, in part cos the dynamic reminds him a lot of the rangers in his sidestep days, and old habits are hard to shake. 

Motivation tends to vary, but the underlying principles are that he’s very very tired and bitter and just wants to feel like he’s in some control of his life again/not powerless - the argos suit is in part a mobility aid, because it lets him do what he could as sidestep, and more. argos gives him a lot of freedom and at times euphoria, but also huge guilt, just as he does with yasmin. he's following the path of least resistance (fate motive), even if that’s driving himself (further) into a self-destructive spiral. at least it’s by his hand instead of someone else’s?

Basically he’s swinging between these two modes: 

He also does a lot of joking to deflect from when he accidentally lets slip he’s not doing well  (which is. all the time) which is probably best summarized by an excerpt from the Hoots scene:

Faulty logic aside, there’s a lot of anger at himself, especially his past self for his naivety and getting careless (as much as he tries to bury it, he’s still a hero at heart), but also at the Farm, but it’s not like he can really touch them. I have a soft spot for the outsider scar cos that’s the first one i ever got, and the whole disconnect from the rest of the world feels very very fitting, and coupling that with the suicidal scar (so suicidal from rebirth → outsider into retri), though I have tried him out with puppetmaster too, and maybe some parts from the hunger scar can work too?

idk if he'll actually remain driven enough to stick to being argos, but it sure is fun watching him be a trainwreck about it

this has been a (semi-coherent) ramble about suranga thanks for indulging me <3

[hislittleraincloud]

But Xavier's powers weren't limited to 'bringing drawings to life' (which is pretty damn cool). His dreams were prophetic.

Xavier: Telekinesis, Seer (dream visions).

Wednesday: Seer (touch triggered visions)...so far.

(And to round out the known telekinetics/seer group, Rowan seemed to be a 'typical' telekinetic who could move large/heavy objects. We obvs don't know if his prophetic mother could also move things like him or like Xavier, nor do we know how she received her prophecies.)

On top of that, Xavier's telekinesis was more magical than 'just being able to make things move'. To be able to move a spoon on a table is telekinetic child's play. He was able to move each individual atom of his spider drawing as a unit so that it came out of the page in 3D, which is impressive (and it did impress Wednesday [spiders were/are her thing...I wonder how he knew?] until bigot Gates interrupted it and called it a 'trick').

Thaaaaaaaaaaat said. I bet Karloff is either a vampire (have we seen him with sunglasses yet LOL) or some b.s. NPC stuck in there to give Enid a love triangle with Ajax...I mean Ortega said they were dumping the romance for Wednesday, not for Enid. Maybe a werewolf? I dunno, "Karloff" screams vampire to me, unless they're gonna make him a Frankensteinian...thing (yanno, bc Boris Karloff...Frankenstein... 🙄). Whatever he is, I wanna say they might just make him a Nightshade (also, I'm really hoping they follow through with Nightshades lore, and make them what they used to be, the way S1 set up everything for that arc). Or, and this will piss off the Wenclairs, he will be in there for Wednesday but she will be entirely uninterested (or interested but unwilling to pursue anything after what happened in S1 bc she's gonna follow Donovan into his retirement and f — 💩).

I dunno if I can be arsed to care enough though. Norminal people who watch the show (normies not being fan freaks like us who follow casting and celebrity news) are going to be VERY confused when the show airs. Hell, I'm still seeing normies on all of the Wednesday Facebook announcements not knowing WTF happened with Percy, lots saying they won't watch it without him.

If I'm around when S2 comes out (health probs man...health probs), I will likely Hate Watch it anyway, just to see where they went with it.

ETA: My big beef with Xavier's powers is that they didn't go far enough with it. And his last action scene with the 🏹 was ridiculous. If he had telekinesis, he could have easily stopped the arrow from coming back as well. If I were to re-write that scene I would've made it more the comedy that it is, and have Xavier and Crackstone be struggling to make the arrow move towards the other, with the arrow getting stuck in the air (at some points, revolving slowly). Then Wednesday could've just lost her patience with both of them, grabbed it, and stabbed the motherfucker in the heart. 🤣 But then it wouldn't have been romantic or team spirited (Wednesday throwing herself in front of the arrow for him, Bianca being able to help distract Crackstone long enough for him to lose his staff and Wednesday to take the sharp/re-kill him).

That's one thing I think about when it comes to his powers. But hey, maybe Xavier isn't as quick. Then...why didn't he just do what Rowan did and throw Crackstone up against the fountain? Or dribble him against the ground?

Sorry...I'm working on 8 of my story and thinking about him in Episode 8 ticks me the Hell off because I keep asking the "Why didn't he..."s while contemplating the scenes. Xavier's parts might be the most infuriating that I have to navigate. The writers dropped the ball on him (among other things).

I still say forcing him to do his community service with the guy who just one fucking year ago beat his ass and destroyed his mural was cruel and unusual, and people always seem to forget that part.

[marshalortegamoved]

Hello hello I hope you are well!! Sorry if this is weird but I have been absent from tumblr and the if community in general for a while but I've just replayed fallen hero and I am in my Feelings and you always have the best fhr and chargestep ideas so I'm just wondering if you could possible bless us with some Thoughts?? Like so we all agree that sidestep is the most unreliable narrator and ortega clearly knows way more than sidestep gives them credit for but like how much do you think they know? And how do you think they will act to the big Reveal? Also I've always been an ortega stan but this replay has me feeling things for steel...what's your opinion on a steel romance? Okay sorry for rambling on anyway I hope you're okay, sending lots of love 💕

Ahhh, hello! this is such a lovely message, and not weird at all! thank you so much, it's so sweet that you thought of me <3

Hmm, well, first of all, if you're interested, there's a complete alpha demo on Malin's Patreon here if you haven't checked it out already and can get it! It's no longer being updated playtesting wise due to some issues, but there's a LOT more in it than the public demo and it has a ton of new information (the Q&As are also a gem, highly recommend, 10/10.) If you have read it/do read it, feel free to DM me and bless me with your Thoughts!

Buuuut.... speculations under the cut.

I think Ortega knows way more than they're letting on, and less than they think. Everyone in this series is hoarding information, has little pieces of the puzzle, and their own theories on whatever is actually going on (whatever that is...) like you said, Ortega's way smarter and more aware than Sidestep realizes, but they're also super cagey, which results in Sidestep and Ortega talking to the left of each other all the time.

I'm betting on most of the lies you can tell Ortega (I'm not a telepath anymore, oh yeah I totally don't have any enemies, etc.) in Rebirth not being ... quite as convincing as Sidestep thinks they are....

I'm also squinting pretty hard at that first reunion in Rebirth (Ortega shows up in a café where the puppet was normally seen, not Sidestep? please. Sidestep, that wasn't a deus ex machina, you little.... [fists clench]).

Don't love the fact that we're TOTALLY convinced our old apartment isn't compromised. Don't think it's impossible that Ortega has been following Sidestep around (... out of love!) or that Ortega's been digging into Sidestep's "new life," depending on the suspicion.

Ortega has their own conspiracy boards, and however Sidestep plays into those will probably depend on how much they think you're the villain. Their primary focus has been on Hollow Ground for so long too, so whatever the hell is going on there... Ortega and Sidestep probably both have no idea, but like, in different ways? and BOTH of them are obnoxiously into their theories, so. They need each other....'s information, and I can't wait to see what happens when New Truths come out. Sidestep themself hasn’t told us (the reader) everything they know yet either, so we’re in for some surprises from them too.

As for the BIG REVEALS... I honestly can't say 😔 I think it'll depend on what Ortega knows, when it happens, how Sidestep does it, and what Sidestep has done as a villain over the series so far. I hate Ortega (affectionate), they're way too complicated for me to try and pin down, their reactions are just.. NEVER what I think they'd be.

And since this is already an essay (I'm so sorry.... if you want to speculate in DMs, mine are totally open!! I'd love to chat <3) I'LL REALLY QUICKLY SAY: I LOVE Steel's romance, and if you haven't played it already, I 100% recommend. Steel has all the flavor of the I Knew You Before Heartbreak, with some SURPRISING twists, beautiful parallels between Steel as a soldier and Sidestep as a [REDACTED], hero/villain dynamics! Spoon! bonding over dogs and past trauma! Steel doesn't at ALL turn out how I think he would (complimentary), and Sidestep realizing Steel isn't at all like they thought he was is WONDERFUL to watch. also, it's just... really fucking funny to listen to Sidestep's "fuck, do I think he's hot??? no... shit... do I??? FUCK," internal monologue. if you do play it, let me know what you think!

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (21) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: omg i’m emotional. guys, welcome to the last chapter of n19f. this fic has been the absolute best fun to write and i truly love these girls and the journey they’ve been on so much. big big huge thanks and love to every single person that’s ever left a note, hit reblog or left me lovely anons, DMs, comments or tags, they’ve all meant the absolute world to me and i love u so much. obviously i can’t let things go, so keep an eye out for some form of sequel coming in the next few months or so (patience is a virtue xo). for one last time…….let’s go, lesbians!!!!!!!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

tw: bit of weed in this one. no zoos, dw xo

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: the girls all went to the beach, Scarlet and Yvie made plans for after uni, and Scarlet got the degree classification she so desperately wanted.

this chapter: it’s Brooke’s graduation day.

***

Brooke looked around at the chaos that was their kitchen. The kitchen utensils (which were all Nina’s that she and Yvie had shamelessly used as if they were their own over the 2 years they’d lived together) were wrapped up in bubble wrap and packed neatly into cardboard boxes which sat on top of the dining table. Yvie’s kitchenware- a blue bowl with a chip out of it, a huge white plate, a Tigger mug, and a mismatched fork, knife and spoon- had been inelegantly packed into an orange Sainsbury’s bag and left on the counter. Brooke had already packed up her own belongings and had moved them into a corner of her room so they wouldn’t take up space in the already-tiny kitchen. All their store cupboard food was in the process of being packed up for the foodbank, which was inevitably going to be flooded with the discarded super noodles, tinned soups and flavoured teas of the migrating tenants of student flats.

Yvie let out a snort from her position in front of their food cupboards, and Brooke’s heart gave a twinge at seeing them so empty. Top shelf had been hers: pasta, rice, stock cubes, and emergency maple syrup tin. The middle shelf was Nina’s: loaf of white bread, tins of tuna, ryvita, breadsticks, crisps. And Yvie’s food had occupied the bottom shelf: chocolate digestives, Ainsely Harriott cous cous, peanut butter, and sour patch kids. All gone. Except, Brooke noticed, for a jar of Marmite which had sat on the middle shelf and that Yvie was holding in her hand.

“Whose was the Marmite?” she asked, an amused tone to her voice. Nina shrugged from her position on the sofa.

“I’ve never once eaten Marmite.”

“It’s on your shelf, girl,” Yvie shrugged, her eyebrows questioning. Nina gave another shrug.

“I know. It’s always lived there. I swear to God it just turned up one day and I left it there. Thought it was one of yours because Christ knows you’re both too lazy to put it on your own damn shelves,” Nina reprimanded them both. Brooke laughed.

“You know you’re going to regret being so mean to us when you don’t live with us any more and we’re adults and it takes 9 months to clear our schedules for one singular coffee,” she raised her eyebrows at her flatmate as Nina pouted and let out a groan, held out her arms for a hug which Brooke fell into.

“Don’t! This is already too heartbreaking, I can’t believe we only have two days left here.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually organised with this moving out process.”

“I can’t believe we have a phantom jar of Marmite that nobody’s claiming,” Yvie piped up, peering at the jar with interest. “Brooke, you like this shit, right?”

“Marmite is Satan’s black fecal matter and I’m offended you think I eat it,” she deadpanned, shifting to get comfy in Nina’s lap whilst attempting to be as inconvenient as possible to her friend.

“Get the hell off me. Only my girlfriend is allowed to sit on me for so long that I lose feeling in my legs,” Nina huffed, shoving at Brooke until she relented and sat beside her. It didn’t stop her from putting her cold feet on her bare thigh though, and Nina hissed and jumped away. “I take it all back. I’m not going to miss either of you idiots at all.”

“You’re a crap liar,” Yvie smiled smugly, binning the Marmite and joining the two girls on the sofa, squeezing in between them both. “Awh, guys…it’s the end of an era.”

Brooke suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes out of nowhere. “Shut up. We’ve still got tomorrow and the next day.”

“Yeah, but tomorrow you’re gonna be doing graduation-y shit and then it’s moving day!” Nina protested. Her voice grew small, dropping to a murmur. “It’s kind of like it’s our last day.”

The girls fell silent. Yvie let out a huge puff of air from her lungs. “Don’t tell anyone I said this but I’m gonna miss you girls so fucking much.”

“Awh, Yves. I’ll miss you too,” Nina sighed, burying her face into Yvie’s shoulder and curling her arms around one of Yvie’s. “But this is good! Change is good, even if it’s scary and different. And you’re gonna be living with Scarlet! That’s exciting!”

“How’s the flat hunting going?” Brooke asked Yvie, who had a little smile on her face. Brooke didn’t know if Yvie knew that she always began to smile a little whenever Scarlet was mentioned. She wasn’t going to mention it to her. She would maybe mention it to Scarlet.

“Like I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” Yvie groaned, running her hands down her face. “It’ll be fine, though. We’ve got a while. Her lease isn’t up until August so we’ve got a few weeks to keep looking and in the meantime I’ll just stay with her in that Dickensian death trap she calls a flat.”

The girls let out a laugh, Brooke resting her head on Yvie’s shoulder too. There was a small silence.

“At least you and Monet are sorted,” Yvie spoke again, Nina nodding in agreement. Buoyed by how well Yvie’s suggestion to Scarlet had been received, Nina had been determined not to fuck up another relationship milestone with Monet and had asked her to move in with her as well. The answer had been an emphatic yes, and the pair of them had used their terrifying teacher-levels of organisation skills to find a cute two-bed flat in a nicer, only slightly more expensive part of the city. They both knew their relationship was still new and fragile, so they’d agreed a room each was a good idea to give them their space when they each needed to work or wanted a bit of time on their own to simply do nothing. Brooke knew the two girls were joined at the hip though so they probably didn’t need that sort of contingency plan, but it was a sensible decision nonetheless.

“I can’t wait to get the keys and just vomit up a bunch of fairy lights and candles in every possible room,” she beamed, excitement radiating out of every pore. “It’s going to be so fun- we’re going to take turns cooking, and build pillow forts, and blast our songs on a Sunday morning and clean the whole place-”

“Fuck. Adulthood’s fully got you. Brooke, quick, if we run we can still save ourselves,” Yvie deadpanned, Nina giving her a whack as Brooke laughed.

“I personally can’t wait to go round and visit at every available opportunity. I’m going to move in,” Brooke smiled, and Nina gave another sad kicked-puppy pout.

“I wish. Canada is so far away,” she sighed, a little knife going through Brooke’s heart at the thought of moving back. She didn’t want to think about it, but it was just inevitable. It was happening, and it was fact. She was going back to Canada. She didn’t really know what she was doing, she hadn’t found herself a flat, and she didn’t have a job to earn money and pay the rent with even if she had, so she was flying home.

She really didn’t want to think about leaving. She didn’t want to think about leaving the city, constantly busy with tourists and families and drunk students and Very Important Working Adults. She didn’t want to think about leaving the park, with the cherry blossom trees that lined every path and fond memories of barbecues and picnics and drinking in the sun with the girls. She didn’t want to think about leaving uni- because as stressful as all hell her degree had been, she’d loved studying fashion design, loved making prototypes, loved learning about something she loved, even though her degree was fuck all use to her trying to get an actual job. She didn’t want to think about leaving the flat: the shower with its drippy head, the hob with the one gas burner that didn’t work, the carpet in her room with the incongruous red faded stain, the fucking Sports Direct mug. The girls that she loved so much her heart felt sore if she thought too much about it: Nina singing obnoxiously early as she got ready for placement, Yvie making the kitchen into a war zone trying new recipes, the ridiculous squabbles they got into about the washing up, pre-pre-drinks where they shared a bottle of pink Gordon’s and splashed mixers into their mismatched glasses and sang along to Ariana Grande at the top of their lungs.

Tears stung at her eyes again, and she swallowed the big lump in her throat to shoo them away. It was too late though, as Nina had seen her glassy eyes and reached over to hug her. Her own voice was thick with tears as she spoke.

“Oh, girls,” she let out a shaky breath, Brooke giving up the fight as she felt her own tears drop down onto her hoodie. “Change is good…but it’s shit.”

“Fuck you both, I’m not crying,” Yvie said, her breathing all shuddery and letting them both know that was a lie. The girls all sat and held each other as they wept quietly, mourning the death of their student careers and this life they’d lived for three years that they’d all too often taken for granted.

Brooke was the first to dry her tears, giving one decisive sniff and sweeping under both her eyes with determination. “Right. I’m putting a stop to this, we’re not spending our kind-of last night in the flat sitting crying like a bunch of babies. We’re going to order food, get high as St Peter’s balls and watch shitty game shows that make us yell at the TV. Okay?”

She was happy that Yvie and Nina both snorted a weepy laugh and nodded at her. “Okay.”

And the three girls did just what Brooke had suggested. There was, however, bickering about where they should order from. Yvie wanted sushi from the tiny little place tucked away in a back street that did bento boxes with prawn katsu and salmon maki which were like little rice parcels of heaven. Nina wanted Chinese from their favourite takeaway that delivered from out in the suburbs and where, for about fifteen points all in, you could get a banquet of sweet and sour chicken in sticky red sauce, crispy golden salt and chilli chips with huge red jewels of chilli and slices of garlic, chicken fried rice in a rich Cantonese gravy which bound everything together and chow mein with soft spring onion slices and huge chunks of onions all tossed in soy sauce. Brooke’s selection won in the end though as her argument was the strongest- “I might not taste any of this again, Canada is a long fucking journey, okay?!”- so they ordered burritos and chips and salsa from the incredibly-overpriced-but-worth-it burrito bar on campus. They finished the last of the weed that had been wrapped in tin foil and cling film and shoved to the back of the broom cupboard along with the bong, and they made horrifying cocktails from the dregs of their leftover spirits and mixers. The burritos arrived and they stuck Challenge TV on and shouted at the Catchphrase contestants who couldn’t get the most obvious fucking catchphrases Brooke had ever seen in her life.

The evening was perfect.

They talked about Brooke’s graduation tomorrow, Nina and Yvie both saying how proud they were of her. Brooke was glad she had the girls, since her Mum’s flight over to see her graduate had been cancelled because of freak winds back in Canada. Brooke had already cried to her over facetime about it, but Yvie had managed to find the link to the livestream that was only meant to be shown on campus, and she’d sent Brooke’s Mum the link so Brooke knew she would be watching even if she couldn’t properly be there. As soon as they’d heard the news, the girls had all agreed on the group chat to set up camp in the union and watch the livestream (as Brooke and Plastique would be graduating at the same ceremony) and then take photos with them both afterwards outside the great hall as if they were a gaggle of proud Mums. Even though it wouldn’t be what she’d planned, Brooke was still looking forward to it.

It was around midnight before Brooke took herself off to bed, and just as she got cosy underneath the duvet her phone lit up with a notification. She couldn’t help the smile that involuntarily shot to her face when she realised it was Vanessa.

V: hey what’s ya fav Kanye West album mine is GRADUATION!!!!!!! How you feelin about tomorrow boo? xxxxxx

Brooke let out a laugh, muffling it too late with her hand when it came out louder than expected. Christ, she loved the girl so much.

B: Kanye West is a misogynist pig and i won’t stand for him xxxxxx

B: Stronger is a bop though xxxxxx

V: You got that one right xxxxxx

B: And I’m good! Big jumble of feelings. Big happy/sad vibes xxxxxx

V: I know it’s bittersweet af xxxxxx

V: Me n Scar just held each other and cried once the ceremony was over xxxxxx

Vanessa and Scarlet had graduated last week, as had their other friends. Brooke and Plastique’s graduation date was the latest and so they were graduating last. She didn’t mind that, though. The longer she could stay being a student the better.

B: Lol we just had a big cry as a full flat xxxxxx

V: Don’t lmao idk what we gonna be like when our lease is up xxxxxx

Brooke scrolled up and looked at all the texts they’d exchanged from the past two months, the same signature of six kisses at the end of them all. They hadn’t really spoken about where they were relationship-wise since the night in the library. Maybe Vanessa didn’t want to. Maybe it was for the best. Brooke’s heart hurt as she realised she was going to be on the other side of the world in a matter of days, and maybe Vanessa didn’t want to see her ever again. She frowned at her own thoughts before tears had a chance to start welling in her eyes again. It had been good to truly get back to where she’d been before with Vanessa- just texting random garbage, having deep chats about the future, being ever-so-slightly flirty with each other. She thought about confronting the issue head on over text, but it wasn’t the medium through which to have that kind of conversation.

As if Vanessa could read her mind, however, another text came through.

V: When do you fly back again? 20th? xxxxxx

Brooke’s heart felt sore.

B: 12th xxxxxx

V: oh right

Brooke’s pulse froze at the lack of kisses. Her fingers ghosted over her screen, trying to figure out what to type. Vanessa sorted the problem for her.

V: fuck I wish you weren’t leaving xxxxxx

Brooke’s heart swelled up then popped. Was this the time? No. But their time was running out, she knew that much. Maybe she could see her before she left. She’d see her after her graduation anyway.

B: I wish I wasn’t either xxxxxx

B: But you’re coming tomorrow yeah? Xxxxxx

V: Wouldn’t miss it for the world baby xxxxxx

Fuck, she would miss her so much. She’d already told Vanessa how much she meant to her, just how fucking incredible she was in every way, and yet Brooke felt like doing it again.

She didn’t, because it would be too weird. But she wanted to more than anything.

V: You gonna look so beautiful and clever tomorrow I just know it xxxxxx

Brooke smiled to herself, blushing on her own at the compliment. Vanessa seemed to be firing risky texts to her left right and centre, so Brooke took a risk of her own.

B: Not as beautiful as you xxxxxx

She almost threw her phone away once she’d sent it. A reply came back almost instantly.

V: Stop with the lies xxxxxx

She was leaving in two days so she sent another risky one, caution truly pissed into the wind.

B: You’re honestly the most beautiful girl in the world xxxxxx

At that point Brooke put her phone face down on her bedside table and decided to sleep, her heart full of butterflies and her thoughts filled with the ridiculously massive crush she had on the girl she’d been idiotic enough to let go the first time.

When Brooke woke up, her phone was blowing up with messages. The one she checked first was from Vanessa in reply to the one she’d sent last night, and was simply a series of heart eye emojis. The next one she opened was a text from her Mum, paragraphs of pride and love for her daughter that made Brooke want to cry already. The others were all from the chat- Silky, Akeria, Vanessa, Scarlet, Yvie and Nina all spamming it with messages of luck and love for her and Plastique, and promising they’d be watching the screen and waiting outside for them when the ceremony was done.

Brooke got ready in a dream-like haze. She took her smart black tailored dress out of the cupboard where it had been hanging for the past month, the garment more ready for graduating than she was. She showered then dried her hair, curling it and brushing out so it made waves down her back. She put on her makeup- browns and nudes with only the tiniest bit of highlight. When she stepped into her dress and heels and looked at herself in front of the mirror, she hardly recognised herself.

She looked like an adult. A woman with her life stretching out in front of her, ready to be whatever she made of it.

Brooke phoned a taxi- it was raining just a little, even though it was already July- and pulled on a smart black coat when she saw it pull up outside, dashing carefully down the steps of the stairwell and out into the new day.

Graduation wasn’t til 11, but Brooke had arranged to meet up with Plastique beforehand anyway, just so they could be excited together. When Brooke pulled up at the taxi rank outside the square and the huge ceremony hall, she could see Plastique and her Mum there already, standing bickering amongst the growing gaggle of students and families. The sight only hurt Brooke a bit, until she remembered the girls would all be watching, and her Mum would be watching too no matter how far away. It would, after all, be about one and a half hours of waiting for Brooke to walk across the stage, take a scroll and shake a hand, and then it would all be over.

It was scary to think that that was all that was separating her and the adult world.

Trying not to get too deep and to instead just enjoy the day, Brooke excitedly paid the driver and dashed out of the taxi, Plastique spotting her running towards her and giving an excited squeal. She opened her arms out for a hug which Brooke crashed into.

“Bitch! How are you!” Plastique cried, Brooke only squeezing her tightly in response. “I’m so excited! And sad. And excited! And emotional.”

“Yeah, I can tell!” Brooke teased, Plastique laughing as she stepped out of the hug and gestured to her Mum, dressed very glamorously in a blue dress, blue heels and a pink fascinator. The occasion didn’t really call for it but Plastique’s Mum was always one to embrace the potential glamour in every situation, and so she had gone all out.

“You’ve met my Mum, right?” Plastique smiled. Brooke nodded and waved her a hello. She’d met her once at their second year showcase, the woman keeping her in stitches with her hilarious stories.

“I have! Nice to see you again, Alyssa.”

Alyssa, throwing formalities out of the window, instead pulled Brooke into a crushing hug. “And you too, my angel! Awh, Lord, ‘Tique told me all about your Mama’s flight. My heart is absolutely breakin’ for you, honey. I would’ve sent a plane over for her but nobody’s flying out of there come hell or high water.”

Brooke suppressed a laugh, finding it unbelievable that “I’ll just get her a plane” was on Alyssa’s list of options. “It’s okay Alyssa. Thank you, though. She’s going to watch the live stream, Yvie hooked her up with a link.”

“Well I’ll be your Mama just for today, girl. I am so proud of you both!” Alyssa cried, putting both her hands on Plastique’s shoulders and sighing. “Look at my intelligent daughter, out here gettin’ degrees and lookin’ so beautiful at the same time.”

Plastique smiled at her Mum lovingly, the two of them sharing one last hug before she and Brooke took themselves off to pick up their robes. It was surreal actually wearing the gown, all billowing and black, and helping each other fix their hoods, light blue with fringes of pink. They went to get their graduation photos taken, Brooke surprised that they were given a prop degree to hold as she’d always thought it was her actual degree she’d be holding. She laughed as Plastique moaned to her about not being able to see the photo until it got mailed to her, and the fact that her Mum ordered about twenty four copies so even if it was horrible she wouldn’t ever be able to escape it. Alyssa texted Plastique to tell her she’d gone into the hall to get a good seat, so her and Brooke decided to just go and sit ready anyway. They had to say goodbye to each other briefly until the end of the ceremony, as everyone had to sit in alphabetical order. As she waited for the ceremony to begin, Brooke scanned the huge crowds all seated in the hall’s three tiered levels. Her eyes fell on each empty seat and her heart broke a little more each time she saw one.

Nobody she truly loved would see her graduate in person. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely gutted. But at least she had Plastique, and of course, Alyssa.

Before she knew it, the ceremony had begun. She tried to pay attention to the Dean’s address and the chamber choir singing in Latin but she couldn’t help feeling like a 16-year-old in her school assembly, bored and just full of anticipation. Eventually, the awards began. Brooke clapped for all the other students crossing the stage, her eyes trained on the way they walked. She swallowed down the panic she felt, banished the thought of tripping over to the back of her mind. It reached Plastique’s turn, and she gave a huge cheer as her friend walked across the stage with all the grace and poise of a supermodel. She could hear Alyssa’s voice shouting from the balcony- “That’s my baby! That’s my girl!”- and, for a moment, she thought she heard the yell of a voice she knew all too well.

No. That was crazy. She must have imagined it.

E in the alphabet turned to F, then G, and eventually, H. Brooke didn’t have many others to sit through, and eventually there was only one girl separating her and her degree. The moment these three years had led up to, finally being lived out.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes.”

She heard her name and smiled as she walked carefully across the stage, shaking the Dean’s hand tightly and collecting her scroll all wrapped up in its little embossed tube. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she walked to the other side, heard the claps, heard the cheers, and heard…

“Love you, Brooke Lynn!”

Stop.

“Go Brooke! Love you, girl!”

It was her. It was actually her. Vanessa’s voice, soaring above the crowd and reaching Brooke like an arrow.

What the fuck was she doing here, at her actual graduation ceremony? As Brooke dismounted the stage she scanned the room like a meerkat, the place far too packed to distinguish Vanessa from any other of the little blobs of people sitting in each row. But she knew it was her. Vanessa had seen her graduate, had seen her collect her degree and had cheered for her.

Brooke didn’t know how she’d managed to get a ticket - they were all reserved for families- but she suddenly couldn’t wait for the ceremony to end.

She didn’t have long to wait, as time flew by and everything was over before it could all sink in. Brooke and Plastique emerged from the hall to the crowds outside and, just as they had promised, the girls all rushed forward to crush them in ridiculously tight hugs, Silky yelling at the top of her lungs how proud she was of them both and Akeria shaking a bottle of five pound cava until the cork opened easily and sprayed the fizz all over the two girls. Brooke clung to Plastique and laughed, unable to stop the smile that was plastered on her face.

“I can’t believe it! You both did it, congratulations!” Scarlet cried cheerfully, Brooke pulling her into another hug.

“Did you see me shaking when I walked across the stage? I thought I was going to trip and fall off the damn thing!” Brooke laughed, the other girls all laughing too.

“You looked like a confident, graceful, successful queen,” Nina told her, Brooke wanting to cry at her friend’s compliment. “And you are all of those things! Fuck, I can’t believe we’ve all graduated now. What the hell are we going to do?!”

“Aw, let’s not think about that,” Akeria shushed her, a proud smile on her face. “Well done, ladies. We’re all proud of you. You did that shit.”

Plastique hugged and thanked them all again before making her excuses, saying she’d be right back, and dashing off to Alyssa. As she left, Yvie took Brooke’s hand and squeezed it.

“So, have you not got some big, teen-movie speech to make, or something?” she quipped. Brooke frowned, looking at her with confusion. The rest of the girls all waited for the penny to drop excitedly, and Brooke saw Akeria’s eyes land on someone just over her shoulder. Brooke turned around and, through the crowd, saw Vanessa waiting beside the hall. Their eyes met, and Brooke could see her try and then fail to suppress the smile on her face. Brooke turned back to the girls, pointing over her shoulder at the girl waiting for her.

“How did…you were all-”

Akeria rolled her eyes, gave her a gentle shove. “Go get your fuckin’ girl, idiot.”

Brooke hardly had to be told twice. She turned around, took two steps, then three, then four, until she realised she was almost jogging over to where Vanessa stood. And suddenly she was in front of her- her hair wavy and falling over her shoulders, her outfit exactly what any graduation guest would be wearing- a smart red dress that accentuated Vanessa’s collarbones and dark eyes and the bright white of the smile she was flashing Brooke’s way.

“Hey,” Brooke began, faltering slightly. She didn’t know where to start, so she chose the obvious. “You were there.”

“Yep!” Vanessa smiled at her proudly.

“How did…how?” Brooke stuttered out, still completely at a loss. Vanessa let out a laugh, charming beyond anything Brooke had heard before.

“I messaged your Mama. Got her number off Yvie after she sent her the link for the livestream. Basically said “hey Ms Hytes…can I grab your ticket and see your daughter graduate so I can surprise her”?” Vanessa grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Brooke couldn’t believe it. Her own Mum had been in on the whole thing and hadn’t let on. She was going to kill the woman the moment she touched down in Toronto.

“Oh my God. You’re amazing,” Brooke gasped, taking a little step forward so they were closer. She felt like crying. Vanessa was here, in front of her for what was maybe the last time. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose her. Not again.

“Amazing, huh?” Vanessa asked shyly, looking to the ground. They both knew the question meant so much more than simply what it was, and Brooke, without knowing where her confidence had emerged from, took both of Vanessa’s hands in hers. Vanessa’s gaze shot up, and their eyes met.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, please.”

Without waiting a second longer, Brooke tipped her head down and met Vanessa’s lips. It was somehow just like the first time, even though in many ways it wasn’t at all. This time, Brooke knew every single inch of Vanessa’s body, she knew her ambitions, her fears, she knew what it was like to have almost lost her and be lucky enough to have her come back again. But most of all, Brooke knew that she was in love with her, so fucking in love with her, this one of a kind girl who she was desperate to keep in her life no matter if Vanessa chose her to be hers or not. Their kiss was gentle and urgent and passionate all at once, and Brooke wanted to hold onto the moment forever. When Vanessa’s lips were gone and Brooke was all at once looking at her again, she had tears in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, ‘Ness. Come on, this isn’t…don’t be upset.”

“I am, though! I’m an idiot. These past two months we could’ve been kissing like that and going on cute dates and planning the future and having fuckin’ insane levels of sex but I left you hanging like boo boo the fuckin’ fool when I knew what my decision was the moment we had that conversation in the library, because it’s you, Brooke, fuck, it’s always been you. I love you so much,” Vanessa sniffed, frantically wiping her tears away as Brooke pulled her against her chest. Vanessa’s voice murmured against her, the most hopeful, plaintive question. “Do you still love me?”

“Fuck, Vanessa, of course I love you. You’re just…the person I was meant to meet, you’re the person I’m meant to have in my life. I love you so much.”

Brooke felt like an idiot as tears began to well up in her own eyes. She looked down at Vanessa and she looked back up at her.

“You’re leaving,” Vanessa let out a tiny sob, her forehead hitting Brooke’s chest again.

“I’ll come back,” Brooke said immediately, meaning it. “Honestly, I will. I’ll book my flights as soon as I’m home. I’ll look for flats and jobs and we can start again. We’ll make it work. I want to be with you.”

Vanessa looked up at her, her happy, grateful smile at Brooke’s words all she needed. She let out a tearful laugh. “Brooke Lynn, will you be my girlfriend?”

Brooke laughed too, taking her both her hands and squeezing them. “Hey, fuck you, I wanted to ask first!”

They both laughed then leaned in for another kiss. Brooke didn’t need to answer. Vanessa hadn’t needed to ask.

As they broke away and wrapped their arms around each other, Brooke felt the tears spring up in her eyes as she looked over at the girls. There was Akeria, making some quip about something, and Silky howling at whatever it was she’d said. Monet had joined them all and was swigging the cava out of the bottle, an arm around Nina who was looking at her with adoration. Scarlet and Yvie were telling them both a story, their hands intertwined and their bodies close. Plastique had dragged her Mum over to meet them all and her face was animated as she spoke to her, so full of happiness and excitement.

“Fuck, Vanessa, I can’t believe it’s all over,” Brooke let out a small sob. Vanessa reached up, swept her tears away with a gentle finger.

“Hey. Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

Brooke smiled down at her girlfriend. Her girlfriend. There was nobody she’d rather have spent the past three years with.

“You wanna go steal that cava back from Monet?”

Brooke giggled and nodded. Joining their hands together and giving them a little squeeze, they walked back over to be with their family.

[impossible-rat-babies]

37, 40, 41, 44 for pollux/ortega? 🧡

37. Which one offers their jacket to the other when they complain they feel cold?

ortega, sadly 😔✌️ it happens a lot bc as much as pollux prefers the cold, he does get cold easily. but it’s always funny (affectionate) watching pollux wear a jacket meant for a man a foot taller than him.

40. Who is the most affectionate?

I think they’re pretty equal, but just have different ways of expressing that affection. Ortega is much more physically affectionate where pollux is more does things or will say things in his own way to express his affection. Later on he does get more physically affectionate in response since he’s more comfortable than he was in the past expressing that.

41. Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

Ortega is the big spoon and pollux is the little spoon ;—; but they more often sleep face to face, with pollux either burying his face next to Ortega’s neck, or Ortega will end up with his face squished in Pollux’s stomach while his arms are wrapping around his hips and touching the butt lol

44. What are their nicknames for each other?

pollux calls ortega: ric, or lover boy!

ortega calls pollux: lux, or just his first name. for a hot second he tried using bixby as a sort of payback for ortega, but the nickname never stuck.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Steel romance snippet

Steel, m!Sidestep, f!Ortega. Thief Sidestep wanting a new life. Villain name Anathema. SPOILERS. The discord dared me.

---

"What's this?" Your frown deepens as you stare into the Ranger's fridge, the contents as familiar as your own mind. Herald's low-fat yogurt, Ortega's stack of leftovers marked 'not for Angie', Steel's fortified meal replacement drinks and Argent's empty shelf right next to... yours? Clearly marked with your name.

"A peace offering." Steel's voice is soft for being inside the HQ, he sounds more like Chen the worried dog-dad than the Marshal right now. You don't know how to feel, you were just getting used to the one. Combining them feels... tricky.

"Did Ortega do this?" You don't bother to hide your suspicion, but the facts don't match. Ortega would have made a scene of it, like everything else. You have no idea how long that shelf have been in here before you finally found it.

"No. She..." Chen, because you have to call him that now, even in your head, now that he's being weird and personal and not scowling you out of the room. "I think she's afraid of spooking you again."

"Julia? Afraid?" Your face twitches a little, but his words match what you've noticed, the way her face contracts and closes up around you, as if she wants to drag you back to being best friends, but is afraid you'd just slip through her fingers again.

"She's not indestructible."

"Unlike you."

"I'm really not." He sighs, but keeps looking at you, so you close the fridge again.

"I need to go." You only came here to tell Argent that the timer is ticking and Dr. Mortum has promised to deliver soon. But she's not here, and you're not ready to stand here being strip-searched word for word by the Marshal.

"I'll join you." The words are awkward, but not a suggestion, and he falls in step with you as you head towards the elevator.

A familiar feeling. How many times have he seen you out of the building, not trusting you on your own?

When did it change? When did it become an act of companionship rather than a suspicious escort?

"Why?" You don't ask until the elevator doors have shut behind you.

"I wish I knew." Chen keeps looking at you, and you browse the surface of his mind, trying to figure out what he think he was answering. It's hard, the way it always is when it comes to business, he loosens up around Spoon, the dog is a safe outlet, no need to stay guarded then. Not like now. Not like with you.

And yet he keeps looking at you.

"You and me both," you answer, not knowing what the question was. It's been awkward between you lately, neither of you knowing how to deal with not being... not exactly enemies, but antagonists.

You still are, but you're wearing armor then, and he's wearing an all too familiar scowl.

"Let's get a drink." Yet again it's not a question, but Chen looks at you as if he's terrified you'd say no anyway.

"Why not?" You're on thin ice here, but if you can't read the Marshal, you can't outplan him, and you need to stay ahead of the game. Once the prototype is completed, you can strip your body clean of any evidence of your inhumanity, and then there's nothing stopping you from...

Your brain freezes in its tracks like a deer in front of a car as you realize you are looking at Chen's back as you follow him out of the elevator. The garage level. Where he keeps his car. You are looking at his back as if... that was one of your goals. Your aspirations. Which is ridiculous because you are doing all of this to build yourself a new life, scrub yourself free of your past, steal enough money that you never have to worry again and then just go somewhere... anywhere. Just live. Be anybody you want to be.

Free of your past.

The same past that's walking right in front of you, moving a little too stiffly. He should have let you adjust that shoulder, but he didn't trust you. Why do you have a shelf in their fridge?

Why do you want to kiss him?

No. You did not think that. Chen did.

You stop dead in your tracks, and Chen turns around and gives you a look, and you can see that he's wondering if you snooped, and you can see that he sees your blush, and you can see him getting angry, but you can feel him feeling betrayed, and your heart is breaking just a little bit so you do the only thing you can.

You kiss him.

He shouldn't have let you do that, he's big, but he's not slow, and he saw you move, and he saw you reach out, and there were three ways he could have turned that into an arm-lock, into a throw or just deflected your hands, but he didn't and now they are around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips.

Why.

The answer is too simple for either of you. Because you want to.

He lifts you up in one, smooth, motion, pressing your back against the wall, the height difference shifting slightly in your favor. It would be threatening if your lips weren't locked together, and you wrap your legs around his hips for support.

What are you doing?

Both your thoughts, eerily in sync.

"Chen," you mumble his name into his mouth as you break the kiss at last. He keeps hold of you, as easily as he was carrying Spoon. "What are you doing?"

"You need to stop," he whispers back, and you don't get the feeling he's talking about the kiss, because he keeps holding you close, as if he's the one afraid you'd fade away. "Please."

"Maybe I don't want to." You kiss his mouth lightly, then his cheek, tongue tracing one of his scars, and you can feel the shiver running through him. "Maybe I can't."

"It's only a matter of time." His eyes narrow, and you don't need to read his mind to know what he suspects. That you are Anathema. Suspects. There's no proof, and as long as there's no proof there's nothing he can do. The kiss tastes a little differently once you realize that, a bit more of desperation.

"I've died once." This time you are the one whispering, resting your forehead against his. "I'm not letting it happen again." You pull back so he can see your eyes, see that's the only way he will take you in. Kill you.

He kisses you instead, softer this time, as an apology.

You should push away, but instead you just rest your head on his shoulder, arms around him, feeling his weight press you against the wall. Feeling his mind go over alternatives, upset and open, broadcasting in ways you are not used to. He could stop you. Take you in. Arrest you, and you stiffen slightly in his arms until his mind moves on because there's no proof. Because you've been clever. Because you've broken the law, again and again but you haven't actually killed anyone.

And he doesn't think you will. Except maybe yourself.

"I won't," you promise, whispering the words into his neck. "I want to live. That's the point."

"I don't understand." Is he pleading with you to explain yourself? To give him the proof you need? To make matters black and white once more instead of this murky gray.

"You can't," and there's something in the way you says that that makes him accept it. You still don't know what he found when he went looking for you after Heartbreak.

"There's one more reason," Chen says instead, gently putting you back on the ground. "One final reason why I didn't trust you."

"What?" you say, trying to summon up your usual defiance, but it just comes off as a nervous challenge. You're trusting him to bring this back to the usual status quo, because you're not sure you can. Or want to.

"Because I think I might have fallen for you," he admits, and it's a fall alright, into the dark, into the unknown, away from everything he was sure of. "Please don't make me regret it."

And with that he turns away and heads back towards the elevator, leaving you leaning against the wall, lips bruised and life upended.

You will, though. You will make him regret it.

Even if you don't want him to.

[chaniters]

A day in the life

I wanted to write something that went through the emotional spectrum (don’t ask me why) so I came up with this. 0 planning ahead too. I kind of like it! 

A day in Cyrus’ life. Enjoy and pls reblog if you like it!

Contents:

Fluff, Romance, Angst, sadness, hope, mention of torture, revenge, shock moment (attempted), gotcha moment (attempted).  

Hope you enjoy it!

_____________________________

“Why? Why can’t you see me?!” you scream pulling off your shirt “I’m right here!”.

But Ortega has his back to you, looking at the window… the window you jumped through. But this is his house… It can’t be the same window… right?

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

7:00 AM

BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

Your hands reach for the clock…  You heard it already.

Did that even count as a nightmare…? It was confusing as heck. You close your eyes for a second, preparing for what comes next...

Get up. Get a bath. Deodorant....Get dressed. Eat some crunchy snacks or whatever.  Do something with your hair… take a very brief look at the small mirror and walk to the door…

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

7:30 AM

BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

“Aww fuck!” you say as you wake up again…

Great.

It’s going to be one of those days of course.

Now you have to get off the bed again... and do all those things, for real this time.

It takes a while, but you manage to stand.  

Take 2. Bath. Deodorant. Clothing. Crunchy snacks. Hair, mirror… ugh. Hair again, then mirror again… better.

Check your phone… training with Herald. You need to hurry to take the bus, or he’ll come to pick you up, and that’s not someone you’re mentally prepared to accept this early in the morning.

Walk outside… and it’s hot again. But you can’t let that stop you.  

8:37 You can’t believe you made it in time. Herald’s there, smiling, and you smile too. Some of his cheerfulness at training with his childhood hero rubs onto you every single time. That’s not the only thing rubbing onto you, of course, he thinks he’s so subtle with all the touching during combat, and of course, you’re not sure about what to do with it.

He thinks you’re sexy.

Sexy. There’s something wrong about the word itself. It makes you want to hide in your room and never come out.

He thinks you’re sexy in a crude, physical way. It’s infuriating and confusing… Luckily he’s quite good at reading the water and knows not to say it aloud.  Ortega gave him a list of things not to do around you, it’s clear as water in his mind.

“Don’t talk about his appearance. Don’t ask too many questions about his past. When he says he’s ok, he usually isn’t. Wait a bit and ask again. Don’t invite him to places where he can’t take a taxi if he needs to leave. If he offers to do you a favor and you say yes, he’s going to follow through all the way so keep that in mind” and the list goes on. The Cyrus guide. Or is it the Sidestep guide? It’s so fresh in his mind you can almost recite it in Ortega’s voice.

He wants to be your friend, and you’d like to be his friend too, he seems like a really nice guy. It sickens you to lie like this, but then again, this is hardly the worse thing you’ll have to do before this is all over.

Also, you agreed to train him… and that means that you have to follow through, don’t you? Ortega said so, and he knows you damn too well.

Training ends by 10:10 and you’re both sweaty… of course you can’t get off your clothes unlike him… Shirtless Herald is a very confusing experience for you, and it forces you to exert harder than you normally would in order to hide the blushing. You can detect hints in his mind that he’s sometimes posing on purpose. They’re hard to track because he’s not even admitting it to himself, but it’s there … bastard.

“Keep it up,” you say with a smile, handshake, and fistbump.

You can handle those. You just hope he doesn’t hug you, and you’re dreading -you know- he’s going to do just that one of these days.

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

10:34

Heading home again… A quick shower, change of clothes and then back outside. Why is it still cold?!

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

11:15

Ortega walks you to your psychiatrist, making sure you’ll get past the door. You look like you’re waiting your turn for the guillotine, he says encouraging you. He’s so right…

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

12:15

You walk out, then have lunch with him. Talk about life, whats’ going on in his, and what details you made up about yours… He flirts, and that just makes you sad, because you know it’s pointless for you to play along. It just won’t work out in the end.  

He’s confused as usual. That’s how it goes these days. You try to change the subject and even flirt back a bit but he’s not fooled, he knows somethings up. He wants to know, he wants to help, but he can’t. The reasons are written all over your body, and the only truth you have is that stupid mask you wear every night.

You lie… you say you’re ok. He digs in… you complain you say you’re already getting treatment. What else does he expect you to do? And of course, you know,  he just wants you to tell the truth, but that’s not something you can do. You don’t even know how It’s not like you’ve done it before.

“Try to downplay your powers. Try to keep your skill acceptable, but don’t go overboard. Never volunteer for ANYTHING, you get that you? Don’t volunteer. Also, learn how to lie and do it well. Use all the training you’re getting and it’ll keep you alive” That’s what she told you. That night, after you saved her life… Your handler. Those words of advice saved your life. Learning not only to lie to for your owners but also how to lie to them… You wish you had gotten to know her better. But you didn’t, and then she died, and you were alone. That’s what you deserved because you were horrible to people back then… and given the circumstances you still are. You’re just a bit better at getting to know them well.

Ortega finally relents, and you agree to meet later.

You feel exhausted, tired of the lies and tired of the truth.

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

14:23

Dr. Finch's attempt to piece you back together only served as a reminder of how broken you are, while Ortega’s attempts to rekindle old feelings are like a rusted dagger twisting in your guts.

Walking through the park to watch the dogs play is what you do to rest your mind of them both.

And then Steel appears.

He comes here too sometimes. You never know whether he’ll be around or not, his walks seem to be guided by Spoon’s mind more than a tight schedule.

He’s the only one you hate.

Because he never trusted you

Because he knew something about what happened to you and kept it to himself while you were tortured.

Because Ortega chose to save him instead of you.

Yet here in the park you make small chat. Talking about who’s a good boy, the weather and the latest movie. It’s odd that he’s the one person most interested in your present than your past or future.

There is a sort of guilt in his mind.

He thinks you know exactly what it is.

But you don’t, and never will. You’re not curious to learn the secret of his guilt.

He thinks you’re always reading his mind, no matter how many times you tell him you don’t…

And of course, you never do.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right.

You don’t want to read the mind of the one person who wanted you out of the picture during the only time during in which you were happy, even after you risked your life for the team.

You don’t want to read the mind of someone who only stopped hating you after you died.

Above all, you don’t want to know if he also thinks Anathema’s death was your fault.      

And thus, you keep the smallchat, and praise spoon, because he’s a good boy.

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

15:33

You say goodbye and walk your separate ways. Back to the shop… get some more repairs done for paying customers. That’s the best way to keep your mind off things…

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

18:46

It’s time.

Another change of clothes… this time you ditch the hoodie in favor of reinforced body armor, your shoes for Jump-Jet boots and throw in a mask.

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

20:12

Fighting Lady Argent for the cameras… The battle seems to be going her way, that is until you shove her through a concrete wall with your trusters, the floor giving away, and the both of you fall out of sight of the media under a ball of dust and into the tunnels below.

You stop fighting, hold a hand for her.

She takes it and stands up, crossing her arms… She follows as you walk the tunnel ahead. You take off your helm and take a deep breath.

“Sabotaging Biomax’s new plant inauguration? Why? What’s the big plan?”

“Expose their bribes and the health risks obviously. Weaken the government bastards” you state.

“Yes, but how does that help you at all? Because I don’t get it”

“It doesn’t… “ you confess “... but that’s hardly the point. I can’t fight the symptom, I have to fight the whole system”

“You mean to tell me you’re doing this just out of pure altruism?”

You struggle with the answer before speaking again  “No, not really… it’s just… something that needs to happen. It needs to be done and I’m the only one who can do it”

“And how do you know you’re the one to do it? There are other ways… safer ways…”

“No! No one can strike at them as I’m doing now… I have to do this. I can’t help it… it’s inevitable..”

She stops in her tracks and you realize she just *saw* something in your face because she looks at you with serious concern.

“Cyrus, you’re not well… maybe you and I should talk to Ortega… You can’t keep doing this”

“NO!” you turn and shout almost instinctively in a tone that would have sounded more natural if it came through your voice distorters. “I can’t stop now! I have to do this Argent… I just… I can’t… I can’t stop”

The hand on your shoulder catches you unaware.  Not choking you. Not trying to stab you.

“You’re going to get killed”

“That’s been a given since the first day I ran away from them” you smile weakly

You barely finish the sentence when she just leans in and kisses you, holding your thin armored self closer with strong silver arms. Well, you did not see that coming, and since you can feel her mind, that means she didn’t see it coming either. Does she always act on impulse like this? It would explain a few things.

It’s downright confusing because you never thought about kissing women… but you still kiss her back.

“You’re insane, you know that right?” she says

“Is that your pickup-line?” you smile.

“Better than yours”

“Oh really?” you say, and this time you’re the one who leans to kiss her instead…

Is this really happening?!?! What is wrong with you?!

“Wait, which was my pickup line again?” you say, and this time you’re the one who leans to kiss her

“You’re a dork. And you talk far too much,” she says pushing you away. Your legs feel weak after this, and your whole body’s tingling. And she’s smiling. Smiling at you.  

“Let’s give them a show!”

You nod, grinning….

And then the wall in front of you breaks to pieces, as she drives you directly through it and back into view of the media. You both stumble back into the open street, fighting the hell out of each other. You’re not really holding back, she would tear you apart if you did… but her claws are not as sharp as usual, and you’re not attempting to break her skull as much as you used to. This time, you’re both enjoying the dance. 

And you’re the only ones who can tell the difference.   

Still, you’re lying to her. She’s the one that knows the most, but she doesn’t know you well enough to tell just how far you’re willing to go for this...

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

21:46

Back home… you’ve got a score of new bruises, but the present pain is a distant memory compared to Argent’s lips.

How the hell did this happen?!

You risk a brief look at the mirror.

“Are you going Bi, Cyrus?” Your reflection asks.

You don’t answer… Whatever happens, happens you guess.

Fucking rangers. They all know a part of you, but none of them gets the whole picture.

Ortega knows the person you could have been If it wasn’t all a fantasy you created.

Herald knows the person you wish you were, but will never be.

Steel, he knows that no matter who you are, you can’t really ever be trusted…

And Argent, she knows what you are, but she just can’t really understand it. That’s the only explanation for the kiss… yes, that must be it.

Enough. Time to rest…

You collapse on the bed…

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

21:52

A different bed. A different apartment. You slowly come to your feet.

Let them all wonder who you really are… you can just let go and be someone entirely different.

Eat... Exercise… call Mortum…

He says he’s not ready to see you yet… Not this body... Nor the other one. And it’s been two weeks.

But at least he doesn’t hang up on you.… You can still talk over the phone, and share text messages, as you go through all of Eden’s nighttime activities. He’s pulling an all nighter too, working on some project.

You’re just happy he hasn’t revoked your telephone privileges. Having someone to talk to makes all the difference in the world. Even if it’s a mad scientist you tricked by possessing someone else’s body.  Mortum goes to bed at about five am, leaving you alone. He says he might be willing to meet you in a few days. He apologizes. You apologize to him. He ends the call.

It comes to a close at around six am, when you stop by to leave Rosie the envelope with her payment.

Time to head back… leave Eden back in his bed…

You have no rush really. Let Mortum take his time.

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

Closing your eyes and leaving Eden, you plunge back into a brief nightmare, one in which you are back at the farm, bound to what seems the unhappy marriage of a medical bed and a medieval torture device.

You’re back at the farm.

And of course, they are torturing you… but you won’t speak.

“I’m going to stop you all!” you scream “That’s the reason I was created! To put an end to it all! That’s the one true reason! It’s inevitable!”

A figure walks up to you, caressing your forehead softly.

“No my deluded child. You are an infiltration unit, and you’ve been far too long away from home. We captured you two days ago. You malfunctioned. But don’t you worry, we’re going to fix you, get you back into the flock in no time. We just need a tiny bit more information… Now, answer me… where… Where did you leave the nanites you stole? They weren’t in your apartment, or your hideout.” she asks again.

“You… You can ask and torture me all you want. Put me … put me through any of your tools” You cough, the blood coming out of your mouth all too real “You’ll never find them!” you say, laughing feverishly.

Regina looks at you with a sad expression. “You know I don’t like doing this… but you’re not really leaving me much choice…” She turns to look at the operatives behind the glass. “Put him through another round… have him relive the whole day again, from the beginning”

“That will kill him... He’s already gone through it six times”

“The White House is demanding we find out where the nanovores are. Unless you have any more bright Ideas on how to find out where he left his weapon of mass destruction, then you better do as I say or I’ll find someone who will” she snarled “DO IT NOW!”

The operator goes silent and simply answers with a few words.

“Rebooting system now… synchronizing with his implant in 5…”

“You should try to cooperate with us child”

“...4”

“This is for your own good”

“...3”

You smile, with blood on your teeth. The farm is going to end… It’s all going to be over…

“...2”

The nanites... You can feel them activate them as your pulse accelerates. Each time they come closer to release…

“...1”

Hidden in your bloodstream. That’s where you store them every single time. Take them off the containment glove and let them inside you… That’s why you didn’t want them able to eat through organic matter, so they could be ready for this precise moment. You knew they would catch you eventually. The nanites are linked to your vitals and once they kill you… Well, that’s their cue. They’ll devour everything in their path. The entire installation and all its experiments will be gone in a pile of rubble in minutes.

You close your eyes, waiting for them to trigger their own destruction...

….

A few seconds pass

“Well?” Regina asks impatiently.

“I’m getting reports of a breach, Director!”

“What?!”

“It’s the Rangers! They are coming to rescue him…!”

“Impossible…!”

“They’ve taken down the gate guards”

“Well.. if they like to play rough… we’ll do it their way. Alert security right now! Tell them to send in class 4 Gene-warriors.”

They are here? No.. no no no, this is bad… They shouldn’t be here. They need to leave right now. This isn’t how you planned this... You begin struggling with your bonds and the mind dampener both.

“In the meantime, activate the device anyways… Let the Ranger situation resolve itself. They can’t make it past our forces, and now finding the nanites is all that matters.”

“... n... No…, please... I’ll tell you” you gasp

“Good try child, but I won’t let you buy time for your friends. We’re not making deals today.”

She looks back at the operator.

“Do it!”

“Going in 3”

“...2”

“Noooo!!” you scream

“...1”

……………………...

7:00 AM

BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

Your hands reach for the clock…  You heard it already.

Did that even count as a nightmare…? It was confusing as heck. You close your eyes for a second, preparing for what comes next...

__________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[animaopen]

logan facts™ that i’m going to add to over time

— swears a lot. she’s grown, she can do what she wants.

— loves to take risks (just about lives on them) but only under her terms. control is important to her.

— likes to understand how things work, and likes to fix things, tinker around. can’t say for sure if this also applies to people.

— very self-contained, doesn’t like depending on others.

— pattern fixation. when she gets tired, she focuses on rhythms, made by her, by someone else, whatever. tapping or humming or ticking. anything with a beat blanks her out, and then suddenly it’s been ten minutes.

— talks to inanimate objects. don’t ask her about it.

— curls into a tight little ball to sleep, one hand under her pillow, heavy on her gun. very easy to get into work mode, hard enough she will sleep through days, but regularly operates on naps and light sleeping. constant vigilance. 

— preferred weaponry is heckler & koch, specifically the P30L, sometimes retrofitted with a suppressor. depends on her mood.

— once, chen made a statement that no one would ever be able to startle him. naturally, logan spent the next year purposely trying to find ways to do so. perfectly capable of slipping into small, cramped places, to then jump out, chen got away with mild surprise and nothing more. until one day she hid herself in the dryer of the rangers hq. chen hadn’t sworn so loudly since then.

— doesn’t like bugs. and not in a flippant, they’re gross, no, she knows what they feel like. to crawl. she doesn’t want them on her skin.

— always has food on her person. always has food stashed somewhere in the nearby vicinity. why? layover habit from the farm, of not ever having just enough to eat. once she got free, and was able to eat what she wanted, she is the one carrying snacks, juice boxes shoved in her jacket pockets, fruit bars pulled out of her sleeves. ortega finds varying pot plants carrying different kinds of kitkats.

— despite the resets and rewiring, her memory is pretty good. can remember quite minute details, which was expected when being brought back to do mission reports. double whammy, as she remembers just about everything she has ever done, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

— whilst logan isn’t entirely a neat freak, post operation she is very careful about how she slows down. cleaning up is precise, such as taking apart the gun, getting the blood out of her suit. lay it all out and work through the motions to get her mind in the right place.

— doesn’t mind heights so much, even in the face of heartbreak, but it’s the weightlessness that gets her. hanging. that’s the point of letting go.

— there’s a fine line between realistic approaches to conversations, and over exaggerated. she goes either way very quickly. too stiff, too expressive. talks with nothing, not even blinking, talks with her hands, knocks something over. 

— covers her mouth with her hand when she laughs genuinely. 

— she can’t swim.

— her first closet was a lot of hand-me-downs from the rangers. she loved it, truly. made her feel like she belonged, even if she was the one to turn down a chance to join.

— logan is trying her best. she swears she is. good life? truth? revenge? the whiplash even strikes her too hard, too fast. she wants out, but she can’t get out, unless she exposes the truth. but there’s costs and time and she wants to do good. be good. go back.

— when she gets in the zone, she forgets to eat. sleep. everything becomes secondary. won’t even talk. and then it’s over, and she crashes. shovels junk food and caffeine into her body, sleeps for nearly a week, back at it again next monday. quite frankly, it terrifies some people.

— the cigarettes used to be just a cover, something to do with her hands. always had to look human, so keeping hands busy meant less attention. she stole the first packet from her handler just before her last mission. but now she has the fancy kind, coloured and flavoured cigarettes. still keeps that old packet. one smoke left. she’ll get through it at the end.

— she hates hearing secrets. being told them is one thing, but having them leap at you, like gossip in the morning, pisses her off. if only because she’s very good at keeping them. 

— survivor’s guilt. from getting out of the farm (twice). from heartbreak. from surviving heartbreak. she doesn’t know why, but it eats her up. she shouldn’t be here.

— drinks juice, milk, soft drinks, whatever, straight from the bottle, no matter who is watching. will spray whipped scream straight into her mouth. has eaten an entire tub of nutella in one sitting. don’t think about it.

— she’s on a lot of pain medication. isn’t taking most of it around rebirth, but it’s for her limbs. the joints mostly. the replacement organs. her back. last lot of surgery before getting out went alright, as best as it could, and whilst everything matches, it’s her, it’s stiff. she doesn’t get the regular upkeep outside the farm. no doctors to turn to. stares at the bottles and shuts the mirror. 

— lies about injuries terribly. she’s fine. forget about it. 

— she can’t tell you if the ballet memories are real, or the violin ones. hasn’t tested the theory, even though she’s fairly sure the ballet might be real from how she fights, and something holds her back from picking up the instrument just because of that.

— logan may not claim to be suicidal, but she keeps reality in check. statistically, she’s going to die at some point. be it tomorrow or next week, or christmas in three years time. have to keep on top of the game, by accepting the fact that in a year, she could be gone. next year, tomorrow, that could be the day too.

— she’s a damn good pickpocket. so much so, it became a game to put the most ridiculous things on their person, and get her to take it. even taking to the skies with it. made anathema’s week she pinched exactly five buttons off the front of ortega’s shirt, the crumpled receipt from last night’s shout from sentinel, and the twelve cents from the front of chen’s coat. 

— in saying that, time with the rangers introduced reverse pickpocketing. putting things in place. and it was harder, logan found, because it meant that moment of being a little closer, instead of just walking on. from ortega’s personal money clip, as once he found about the excursion, he was more than willing to get involved, they distributed quite a lot of funds to those having a bad day around los diablos. 

— logan went to exactly one (1) congratulatory dinner, post nanoswarm, and it was a disaster. absolutely. not only did she wear her mask, even with a fancy dress on, but a reporter got a little too handsy and she not only blasted him into next week mentally, oh no. she kicked him so hard, that he cracked through a window and landed on the balcony, shoe lodged in his gut. it actually got her a place on the fridge because it was so stupid.

— on that note, during her time as sidestep, she got some of the stupidest injuries to date considering her level of skill

impaled by a fork

fell off the kitchen counter, smacked her face, split her lip and knocked out her tooth

scaled a tree to hide from ortega, unintentionally climbed through poison oak

dropped over a tear gas canister in rangers hq

fell down four flights of stairs, relatively unharmed, but slipped on a welcome mat at the bottom

jammed hand in car door and subsequently broke a finger

— she’s a magpie. likes shiny things. obnoxious things. maybe she does it on purpose, to get the most ridiculously brightly coloured things and leaving them everywhere as a reminder, but ortega spent a long time finding pens laying around his office. put them all in a jar eventually, in the office that was hidden from anyone else. 

— there’s another jar with stones somewhere in rangers hq as well. ortega is convinced it has it’s own life, as he sees it sometimes, and never again for nearly two months. but there’s a couple of stones, etched with all their names.

— she loves to be warm. loves to stretch out in the heat. hot showers that are damn near scalding, hair up and out of her face. maybe it’s because it helps her joints, maybe because it gives her a reason to face herself.

— but that’s only because she’s always cold. can feel the outline of metal if she digs her fingers hard enough into her sides. a con of not being all that human is that nothing really needs to be organic. she doesn’t need to be warm, all the time, but she wants to be. means she can feel something other than cold. 

— logan is actually an alright cook, but feigns ignorance whenever someone offers to cook for her. has she ever set something on fire on purpose, just so she could have an excuse to sit back and watch? no, never! perish the thought!

— if she’s being honest, a lot of time spent in ortega’s company was in silence. that she remembers anyway. like there was this easy way of living, just then, convincing herself she deserved it. his mind is soft and comfortable when quiet, and it’s like a warm hug, thinking about it. being near it. being near him. she misses him, misses the quiet they had.

— once upon a time, logan loved scented candles, and all those funky little things. but now it reminds her of heartbreak, of anathema, and her stomach drops.

— honestly logan can’t even place her own accent, even though it’s remarkably subtle, as she has that many languages literally ‘on file’, is english her first language? she can’t say. somewhere vaguely european, maybe a little slavic depending on how angry she gets. or maybe that’s on purpose, to through people off. 

— adopting three dogs was the best decision she had ever made for herself. the triplets, as she calls them, are big bundles of love. she was definitely inspired by spoon, but hadn’t expected to literally drop on them. tilly, teddy and trixie honestly do give logan more time, whether she wants to admit it or not. 

— trains them in multiple languages too. although it can be argued, even by herself, that as she mentally connects with them, maybe they just understand her thoughts. or maybe they just trust her. too many branching ideas there.

— a lot of her early training was about exploitation. she tries to change that for herself, around early sidestep days. one of those things was physical affection. she had only ever known it to be used to twist people, so she doesn’t really touch or hold someone. except, if she trusts them deeply. if they trust her. once they cross that bridge, it’s over for them. it’s a big thing for her, to find that comfortability for both parties, to then be able to move into something that’s a little more human.

— this also kind of developed into tugging on jackets, to get attention. to signify she was close. her footfalls are remarkably light, and she always forgets that these people like to be told someone is nearby. only so many times she could cough, announce her presence. so it’s a tug, four times, left side. she’s here. 

— logan is disgustingly good at noticing little things and twisting it around to make it seem like someone is forcibly doing something for her for their own benefit. like on the anniversary of marshal hood’s anniversary, not only did she set up a week in advance a conveniently placed series of photos and accolades that chen would have to walk by, but it meant that he would have to talk to ortega. or how anathema was off put by something said by a reporter, and sentinel happened to find out through a series of well placed whispers, meaning that he would end up talking to them. she will win the game of the rangers taking care of themselves.

— she doesn’t remember what the last song on her iPod was the day she died. ortega could probably tell her. it was likely stuck in his head for a couple of months.

— that said, she wonders if it would be rude to ask for it back. these days, she doesn’t wear headphones so much anyway, because she’s ready. ready for what, you may ask? anything. not just her mind on high alert. it’s everything else. but back then, when she was nice and safe and sure? it meant she could relax. 

— phantom pain fucking sucks, and she wants a refund. like how she can feel the glass cut into her face, the way her ribs are jammed back in place. how the constraints tighten and needles press in and god, she hates it so much. only when her mind gets too quiet, not enough noise. 

— her sweet tooth actually puts many people off because they’re sure that coffee is more sugar than anything else but i dare you to tell her off.

— logan isn’t allowed to take care of succulents anymore, because she killed exactly eight of them in the space of a week. she claims that so called indestructible plants are actually very sensitive, but. there you go.

— ortega sings a lot, and it kind of introduced logan to a wealth of music. he was her primary source of a lot of stuff, actually, whether he realised it or not. you can download information into a chip and call it a day, but actually knowing what it is, is something entirely different. just like how when he gave orders, it never meant logan had to change. just be herself. ortega was a lot of firsts for her.

— do not dare her to climb something, because she will, repercussions be damned. nine times out of ten, it was a mild comment, that got turned serious, but logan had climbed both rangers hqs several times over, both in and out of costume. she will scale that apartment building with her bare hands, don’t test her. 

— maybe she just likes to be tall

— even though she’s like 5’9

— she’s a horrible artist, really. but she doodles in borders, and on official documents, and whenever her mind so much as wanders. ortega keeps them all.

— she can and will break into things to prove she can. ties in with quick fingers, old habits. gotta break and enter and get a lay of the land. only place she never broke into was ortega’s. literally, the only place.

— a lot of her layover habits, are not even really layover. still actively utilised and honed. logan just boxes them into the then and now. makes her separate the person easily. herself. if she can keep an eye on the days, it means that that time is further away. who she was doesn’t need to come back out and be remembered. but those habits, those abilities, they’re just as much a part of her as the memories and the person. she knows she’s an idiot for trying to ignore that.

— her and anathema got so good at high fiving each other during their time together, they were able to do it without looking at each other. ortega used to tease it was because logan read their mind, but they were just on another plane of friendship he could never achieve.

— hand-me-downs were a thing, but she’s also outright a clothing thief. daniel ends up being on the receiving end of this later, as his clothing is softer than ortega’s. but he doesn’t mind, because there’s something about her seeing an old sidestep hoodie, washed too many times, and not frowning. she actually looked happy, seeing it.

— during her sidestep days, her hair was long and brown and curly, no reason to hide her identity. she left behind the contacts and the makeup and anything else, that would help transform her face. the red during rebirth was partially a mistake, from not reading a bottle properly and just rolling with it, because it was done poorly and who would look twice at someone like that, right? but she misses her hair. misses what it meant. the extensions and dye just aren’t quite the same. maybe she should just start again.

— on many separate occasions, she had been caught napping in places around rangers hq. anywhere from the linen closet, to on top of lockers, to underneath the infirmary beds. politely, most people don’t comment. 

— she’s also responsible for several broken dummies, all of which she would vaguely blink at, and refuse to explain as to just how she managed to behead one with her thighs alone. what do you mean she kicked it so hard it cracked down the middle? no, sir, she did not in fact punch it with enough brute force to rip it from the ground. you’re mistaken.

— she’s good for roughhousing. for play fighting. can’t turn away from a tumble. fighting’s good because she doesn’t need to think, and instinct takes over. granted, again, found herself tightening a chokehold a little too well, and then having to laugh it off. it’s all luck.

— but fighting is dangerous, and the one time she had been pulled into it while angry, there was a swear. never again. dislocated her opponent’s shoulder and walked out for two weeks. ortega had found her smoking then, acting like nothing had happened. but she could tell you in exact detail how it felt. how it sounded. 

— logan claims she can’t drive, if only to see how far she could get ortega to try to teach her just because it was hilarious when she pretended not to know what the brakes were. but she had a motorcycle, anyway. prefers the low turn. just barely touching the ground.

— that motorcycle was probably one of the only material things she owned. that’s not to say she didn’t have things, especially when outside the farm. and that she won’t in future. but it was hers, paid and bought for by herself. she loved that thing. doesn’t know where it went when she died, but damn if she doesn’t want it back.

— she was banned from the rangers hq for some time for the following offences: 

threw a spoon at anathema and shattered a window with the sheer force of it being thrown (seriously, logan, what the fuck), 

learned all the words to cell block tango but would purposely utilise inflection around chen with ‘he had it coming’, 

broke into the security system because she wanted to find out how it worked and subsequently shut down electricity on the block, 

had to unpack all weapons on her person after setting off one of the newer, more sensitive scanners. was there for nearly an hour, 

challenged sentinel to a duel, 

which was accepted, 

which started a betting pool of ridiculous outcomes, 

challenged marshal charge to a duel, 

locked marshal charge in an octopus hold and refused to let go until he said she was pretty, 

changed the wifi password, 

changed the screensaver on the computers to marshal charge’s award winning grin of ’08, 

every time marshal charge would say something would respond with a lightning pun for three weeks, 

placed a fake suggestion box in the lunchroom and encouraged responses, 

bled out on the weight bench and when provoked about it, gave her worst new york accent (fuggehhda abotit!), 

bought one of every ranger doll and would leave them in the worst places, may have actually replaced the eyes on them to glow

— stick her in a patch of sun, and she will start to fall asleep. guaranteed. she claims she’s photosynthesising. 

— whilst she hasn’t done this since her sidestep days, once she decorated her ceiling in those glow-in-the-dark stickers. with as much accuracy as feasibly possible, it was damn near a star map. mostly because ortega insisted on pointing out all sorts of stars, and she didn’t quite believe him, but it helped her sleep, staring up at that little star map of hers. she hasn’t quite committed to the idea of repeating it, because it’s a tender memory and she’s not that person anymore.

— there was a “it has been __ days since our last incident” board in the old rangers hq. mostly involving her, and ortega, and sometimes anathema, getting up to all kinds of bullshit. was just a big black smudge by the end of its use, as not a day went past without incident.

— her eyes were retrofitted post heartbreak with micro optic cameras, constantly filming and recording. once logan escaped, she turned the devices off with some effort, but ultimately rendered her eyes dark (when they’re on, her eyes get a red shine in most lights). some days she still wish she left them on, if only because filming from behind her villain helmet just isn’t the same as watching the trajectory of a hero with your own two eyes. 

— the eye cameras though were also unfortunate because it meant she could rewatch every little thing that happened. stuck with the memories in more way than one whenever she closed her eyes.

— prior to sidestep days, logan was continually reset, wiped clean, to serve as the perfect soldier. post heartbreak, that wasn’t her reality anymore. if anything, the intention to keep her memories as reminders served purpose better.

— whilst not in the habit of invariably mimicking voices nowadays, at one point in time, she was very good at not only throwing her voice, but imitating. it meant for some funnier times, but also naturally quite dangerous to those unaware. she did have her limits though, of course.

— at one point, she took up skateboarding. claims it was part of her cover for pre-sidestep to explain how she could get around so fast without a car. one of the first few things she actually enjoys by herself to do, and one of the easiest ways for her to just lose herself in the city and listen in.

— being handy with technology means several things, such as she’s good at breaking and entering, not having much of a traceable footprint, and helping with effectively mod related issues. but it also means that she has had a hand in quietly upgrading security of those she cares about, and fixing something mundane like a car radio or the air conditioner. 

— she had a some efforts in local life to improve it, be it anonymous donations, a sudden drop in crime rate, or general attempts to at least get kids to school safely. ortega referred to it as her stomping ground as a vigilante, and a lot of her accounts left open to supply money were kept by him, as well as food donations. ortega made a regular effort a year after her death to visit the area and keep on top of her work.

— logan, once far more comfortable as sidestep back in the day, had been caught more than once moonwalking or something similar post mission upon a successful detainment of a villain.

— one time chen returned to rangers hq to find that ortega had been duck taped to his office chair. politely, he had declined to comment. she proclaimed innocence, and subsequently was banned from hq for a week for “leaving the marshal in a position of lowered security”.

— never was much of a laugher, until her sidestep days. and even then it was hidden behind her hand right up until the end, when she finally started to let loose.

— betting pools were all the rage for her. constantly about mundane things: “i bet you can’t eat this in one go”, “i bet you don’t know all the lyrics”, “i bet you can’t do a flip from the roof”. the best ones were trying to get certain phrases slipped into conversation. most food related ones are banned however, due to spikes in food poisoning. 

[royal-babey]

Ranger Highschool AU

Since I love Fallen Hero: Rebirth and have no self control whatsoever, I decided to write a highschool au. Ft my sidestep, Robin Monrosa, as your local 17 year old anxiety filled new kid at school. As well as Wei Chen being an awesome adoptive Father

Only got three chapters done, but I am definitely planning to write more! So here they are for the time being ^^ I hope you all enjoy! :D

Content Warning: PTSD, Trauma, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Tendencies, Intrusive thoughts, Needles, Blood, Past Child Abuse, Insomnia, Nightmares

Happier Tags: Gay! Fluff! Cute and dorky teenagers galore! M!Sidestep/M!Ortega! Yay!

-

Chapter 1

“Hey kiddo, how do you feel about moving?”

That was not what Robin expected to hear as soon as he walked in the front door to his and his fathers apartment.

No forewarning, no hints, just his dad having managed to pack half the small house in the span of six and a half hours whilst his son was off to school, surprising his adopted son as soon as he came home.

“I...Wha?”

Robin couldn’t think up much of a question. How was someone supposed to respond to this?

His adopted father, Wei Chen, glanced up at him briefly from his place kneeling on the floor, currently preoccupied with packing pictures and photo albums into a box.

“I mean it’s not as if you really have a choice. The moving van is coming tomorrow afternoon. I got a really good job offer at a school as a self defence instructor about three hours from here, so I took it. We’ll have a proper house, two separate bathrooms, a backyard for Spoon...”

“Wait wait wait.”

Robin felt like his head was gonna explode. He already had a headache, now this? His dad was talking a mile a minute. Which...Honestly wasn’t really like him. Was he scared Robin would throw a fit or something? Have a tantrum and run off to his room, slamming the door?

But a quick sweep over of his father's mind revealed no thoughts like that, just him being in a hurry to get as much done as possible. At least Robin could stop overthinking on that front…

His father looked worried now. He had spaced out and been quiet for too long again. Shit.

“Just...Just gimme a second.”

Robin shook his head, digging into his bag to pull out some painkillers and his water bottle. He washed one down with a swig of water, and once he didn’t feel as overcharged…

“So...We’re moving?”

Chen nodded at Robin, waiting for him to continue as Robin sorted this out in his brain. Easier to go over what he was already told and put it in order.

“You got a better job offer, so we won’t be living in this shitty apartment anymore?”

“Language.”

“Sorry...But an actual house? For Spoon too?”

Chen nodded again, a small smile playing on his lips now. Robin just leaned against the kitchen counter, picking up a pen that was there to start clicking and fidgeting with.

“That’s right.”

“You said it was three hours away...Where are we going?”

Chen hesitated for a moment, then finally, answered.

“Los Diablos.”

Robin was puzzled. He didn’t have a problem with it per say, but...His dad seemed hesitant.

“Something wrong?”

“No, no...I’m just...Worried about how you’ll adjust to a new school.”

Robin snorted, shrugging. His dad was worried about his incredibly anti-social son with the ability to make people forget him and ignore him entirely, in a new school? Sure Robin had crippling anxiety and depression and sometimes was sick at even the thought of going to school and struggled to keep his grades up because of how often he dipped out after having bad panic attacks but…

“It can’t be any worse than the one I’m at now.”

Chen let out a dry chuckle at that, and Robin could see it did seem to comfort his dad some.

“That’s...True, I suppose. It will be a good fresh start for the both of us. I promise.”

Chapter 2

The rest of the night and most of the morning was spent frantically packing away whatever was left needing to be packed, but then by noon their belongings had been collected, Robin had officially been taken off of his old schools roster, and he and his father, as well as Spoon, had piled into the car and were driving not too far behind.

Robin couldn’t say he was sad about moving from his old school. He was always being bullied constantly despite his dad being one of the most intimidating teachers there. Part of why he was so anti-social and had a very tight “Don’t look at me” telepathic guard. Better to just keep people away and out of his life, he doesn’t trust people who aren’t his family. His Dad and his dog are the only people he feels safe around, and it’s been that way since he was a child…

About an hour into the car ride, Robin had fallen asleep. He wasn’t exactly in the most comfortable of positions, but with the rumbling of the car, the radio playing music quietly, and the rain beating down from the skies, creating a rhythmic and almost comfortable atmosphere…

Well, he hadn’t really slept all week. Major anxiety about the next school day and homework keeping him up. He had been largely relying on coffee to keep him going. Coffee and soda plus whatever random nutritional drink his dad offered him, to try and put some bulk on him. So it surprised no one when he drifted off…

Robin may have been exhausted, but he hated sleeping. Too many memories to creep up on him. Too much fuel for his nightmares.

This rest was no different. Flashes of needles, being held down, blood running down his arm and a bright light...Then sirens in the distance, large hands carrying him, crying into the shoulder of some stranger he doesn’t even remember…

That wasn’t even the worst nightmare he’s had, but it’s still enough for him to jolt in his seat and wake up gasping, arms burning and seatbelt suddenly uncomfortably tight.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

Robin flinches lightly as his father reaches out to touch his shoulder, but relaxes into it some after his rational brain catches up to his fight or flight instincts. He inhales, holds his breath for a few seconds, then exhales. At least he isn’t on the verge of hyperventilating anymore...Still, he can feel his hands trembling lightly, so he sticks them inside his hoodie pocket.

“Bad dream?”

Chen knows it was. He knows what Robin dreams of. Knows what happened. Well, as much as anyone knows what happened. But Robin’s distress is obvious, even if the teenager takes a second to collect himself with a small nod, face that was pulled into an expression of fear and confusion just a few seconds earlier quickly schooling itself back in a neutral scowl at the glove compartment.

“Yeah...Yeah. But it’s fine. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Chen knows Robin better than that, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he just lets his son go, leaning back in his own seat and letting out an awkward groan as he stretches his arms above his head, back and shoulders popping and cracking in protest. Even Robin cringes at the noise.

There’s silence between the two for a little bit, the only real noise being Robin shaking his leg, and Spoon panting like a happy pup in the boot of the car. It’s not as if he was cramped and shut in though, there was still enough room and space for him.

Robin breaks it first, feeling awkward.

“So...Is this the place?”

Leaning forward slightly to look up at the house before them, Robin finally realises it doesn’t seem like they’re planning to drive anymore. Did he really sleep for three hours?

Chen’s only answer is a quick but bright grin, then a short “Yep!”. After, he climbs out of the car, then walks around to open up Robin’s side.

Robin sort of tumbled out, but he does manage to stay standing. And afterwards, he stretches his limbs some. It’s not as if he had been cramped in the car, being as small as he was, but still...Sleeping in an awkward position for hours wasn’t something he could recommend.

Walking up the gravel driveway to stand beside his dad, Robin looks up at their new home.

It was two stories. Big, and Robin could see two sets of windows and even a smaller, clouded up one. A bathroom perhaps? On the lower level there seemed to be two large rooms judging by the windows, maybe a living room and kitchen, and finally, they also had a porch! With a swing seat on it!!!

Robin could see the beginnings of a fence on either side of the back of the house, so he supposed that was their garden. Wonder what it looked like...Chen had commented that it was big, but how big was, well, big?

Hearing a bark coming from behind them, Robin had to smile. Turning around, Chen walked over to open the large padded boot of the car, letting Spoon hop out. The Greyhound almost immediately bound out of the car, barking joyfully at nothing in particular. He ran a few random laps of his owners, before finally deciding to stop next to a street lamp post to relieve himself.

Lovely.

Robin was startled out of watching his hyperactive dog by Chen putting his hand on Robin’s shoulder, but Robin managed to suppress the surprised flinch. He always felt bad when he couldn’t because his dad always felt just as guilty...But right now, all Robin could read from Chen was “Happy”...Robin didn’t have a certain feeling or opinion on all of this yet, but...It was a new beginning, like Chen said. What could be the harm?

Chapter 3

After the moving van had dropped off their stuff, Chen and Robin spent the rest of the day moving it inside. It wasn’t like they had much, but still, it was a lot of work for two people. They managed to drag their couch inside though, along with their mattresses. Chen had deconstructed their beds to make it easier to move them, and planned to rebuild them in the morning. That was fine with Robin.

After that they just had to carry boxes into their house, which wasn’t too hard. They got piled up in the corner of the living room, along with their small tv. Wifi wouldn’t be on for a couple of days though, but at least they had a radio and Robin had a rather extensive book collection and some data on his phone if he got really bored.

So now, at six in the afternoon, the pair were sitting on chairs around the dining table in the kitchen that was already there when they arrived, eating instant noodles and silently listening to the boring news droning on in the background.

Robin had zoned out for the most part. He was staring down at his food, silently picking and eating at it. He wasn’t very hungry. His brain picked up a few of his dads stray thoughts here and there, but they weren’t very interesting. Unpacking boxes, calling some companies, getting work clothes set out, building stuff up, moving house stuff Robin supposed you could label it.

One thought did catch his attention though.

“Gonna have to call Robin’s new school…”

“New School?”

Robin couldn’t help it. He blurted it out before he could stop it, and immediately his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed sheepishly as he watched Chen’s own eyes widen for a few seconds, before he sighed and shook his head.

“Robin, what did we say about mind reading.”

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Robin almost immediately started rocking back and forth slightly in his chair. It was a nervous habit of his. He knew Chen wouldn’t yell at him for it but sometimes his body instinctively slipped back into old habits before he could stop it. It was used to anticipating slaps and insults, and maybe even being shut tight in a room with telepathic dampeners blasting until he was crying. Even ten years later…

“Robin? Hey, hey, it’s fine kiddo. I know you can’t help it sometimes. It’s okay.”

Chen saying his name pulled him out of his thoughts again, and Robin realised he was breathing a little too heavily. Ugh, he hated it when he got like this. When stupid memories clouded his stupid judgement over the tiniest of things.

Swallowing around the thick lump that had appeared in his throat, Robin just nods, before shakily pushing himself up from the table. He couldn’t bring himself to look his Father in the eyes. He didn’t want to see the worry or sympathy.

“I’ll be a minute…”

“Robin-“

Robin doesn’t pause, and Chen doesn’t go after him. He just needs a few minutes. A few minutes to clear his brain, splash his face with some water, put his guards up so he doesn’t do that again tonight. Both read Chen’s mind and have an involuntary break down over an old memory he didn’t even need to be worrying about.

Entering the bathroom on the ground level of the house, Robin locks the door behind him. From there he walks over to the sink, turning on the cold tap. It’s dark, but he doesn’t bother turning on the light. He doesn’t want to see right now.

Once he’s deemed the water cold enough, he holds his hands under it, letting it spill into his hands. He leans forward, closes his eyes, and finally splashes it on his face.

He does this several times, each one harsher than the last. He knows he shouldn’t be so mean to himself but sometimes, knowing was different to wanting to not be mean to himself.

Call him a masochist, he called himself broken.

But gathering himself together again, he grabs the small hand towel hanging on a rack. He dries his face with it as much as possible, as well as rubbing it over his hair, and he lets out a small sigh as he hangs it back up.

He’s okay now. Or as okay as he can be.

He takes a deep breath, unlocks the door, then steps out of the bathroom.

Straight into his father’s arms.

He’s caught off guard by this. How long had Chen been standing there? Every instinct in him tells him to fight, to lash out and get away from the sudden hold.

But he kicks those back down. He doesn’t need them. Instead, he relaxes. That in turn seems to make Chen relax even more, and his hold on his adopted son tighten.

“I know you don’t like to talk about things, Robin, but...I’m here for you. You’re my son, I love you, and...I just want you to be able to talk to me and feel happy and safe…”

Robin couldn’t help but wince at that. Not because of Chen entirely, but because, well...He felt guilty. He did feel safe and able to talk, he just...Didn’t ever know how to start.

“I know, Dad...I love you too…”

It was the best answer he could give Chen. At the moment, anyway…

“Okay…”

Chen finally pulls back then, but one hand does go up to pat Robin’s head gently and affectionately. It’s always been a small thing between them. It actually calms Robin considerably.

“I wanted to talk to you about school, but it can wait until tomorrow. Get some rest, kiddo. You’ve had a long day.”

As if on cue, Robin moved his hand up to his mouth to stifle a loud yawn. It just made his Dad laugh in amusement. Robin hadn’t really felt tired until that moment, but now…

Robin hated sleeping, but he could definitely feel it tugging at him. It had been a few days since he’d actually slept through the night…

Maybe if he took enough pills…

What if he…

Robin inhaled perhaps a little too sharply, and shook the thought from his head. No. Not going there tonight.

“Yeah...I’ll try, pops.”

Robin gave Chen a small smile. He was too exhausted to try for a bigger and brighter one. A more convincing one…

After that, he made to walk past Chen, to go upstairs. On his way past, Chen ruffles his hair. It’s something he’s always done before Robin goes to bed. Robin usually complains, and tonight was no different. He tuts and whines “Daaaaaaaad”, which earns a chuckle out of his adopted Father. It’s normalcy they need. Especially in such an unfamiliar setting…

But Chen lets go of his sons head, who in turn trudges up the stairs. He kicks off his jeans as soon as he’s in the door of his bedroom, pulling on some pyjama bottoms from the pile of clothing sitting on a still unopened box, then walks over to his mattress, already covered in his pillows and blankets, and he flops onto them. He just lies there, not thinking about anything in particular. He doesn’t count on getting any sleep, was probably just going to wait for a bit then turn on the lights to read a book.

But he closes his eyes. And...They stay closed. His mind stays inactive. No nightmares or past traumas coming to haunt him.

Just...Blissful radio silence. As well as a peaceful rest.