#parents were startled by how much color I had gotten done but it's manageable- however I forgot I

[spotaus]

Posting this pre-emptively since I might doodle in the meantime- Happy new years eve y'all!

And my shenanigans? The ones I mentioned? Got my hair dyed! N is going to need a new upgrade in her aesthetic in the coming year and I'm going to enjoy my new vibes <3

[oligbia]

Rat- Chapter 1

Mirio TogataXreader

The sun peeked through the windows of your room, curtains dancing as the light breeze flowed in the room. It was too hot in Musutafu, and you weren't fond of the heat. The way it made everything warm and made your body sticky with sweat- you much preferred being inside. You wanted to be somewhere cool. Young kids played in the streets, learning how to use their newly found quirks. Some kid down the street was clearly training himself- explosions sounding out as additional waves of heat fell through the air. A glass of iced tea sat on your bedside table, the ice melting quickly, condensation slipping down the glass.

You sat at your desk, notes and designs spread across her desk. You sat unconventionally in your chair, one leg dangling above the ground, one pulled into her chest. Your chin sat on your knee, tounge slightly sticking out as you studied the documents in front of you. The extra lessons weren’t curriculum for your middle school, and they definitely weren’t required for the summer break remediation. You had passed her last year of middle school with flying colors, top of your class. These were for your own good. You had one goal for the future, and a dozen back up plans, and if this goal fell through, you had to rely on your brains to figure the rest out. If you didn’t get into this school, the school, you weren't sure exactly what you would do.  

You were pulled away from your thoughts when a soft knock was followed by the soft creak of the door. Your grandfather peaked through the door’s opening.

“Y/N dear, you aren’t working too hard, are you?” The older man had a soft smile and short stature. He was clearly losing hair, his comb over thinning out. His eyes were dark, the wrinkles of his face drawing them further into his head.

“No, just some personal learning. I thought if maybe I got into UA, it would be good to know what stuff I want in my hero costume, so I’m looking into the way Present Mic’s uniform works. I think I want mine to be like his-”

Your grandfather scuttled over to you and placed an envelope at the corner of your desk. It was larger than a traditional envelope, it was more like a package. On the back of the white envelope, it was sealed with a large sticker, the UA crest. You looked at your grandfather with large excited eyes. You felt your pulse quicken and your hands shook slightly. You went to grab the envelope, your grandfather taking your hands in his grip softly.

“Whatever happens, Y/N, I am incredibly proud of you- and your parents would be too. I will do everything we can to make sure your future is as bright as you.”

Small tears threatened to overflow from your eyes as you looked into the gentle eyes of your grandfather. You nodded slowly before removing your hands from his grip and returning to the envelope in front of you. You slowly opened it, afraid of ripping the seal. Inside was a small box. You placed the box gently on the desk, a large screen appearing in front of you. A heroic typed melody played as a small animal-like creature appeared on the screen. You honestly weren’t sure if her was a mouse or cat- but what you knew was he was someone of importance based on what he was wearing.

“Good day students, I hope this letter finds you in good health. We would like to congratulate you on completing the acceptance exam for UA, even if you didn’t make the cut to our school, the test is no easy test. It was designed to figure out the best of the best, and was written by some of the best heroes in our world today. Now, to the part you are really looking forward to- the decision regarding your acceptance into our school...”

Your grandfather placed his hands on your shoulders in reassurance. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding, the anticipation ringing in your ears. This was not just a decision about a highschool- this would decide your future. You knew you passed the written exam with flying colors- there was no way you hadn’t. But the hero part- you admittedly didn’t have a super flashy quirk and had minimal quirk training, you were unsure if you had managed to complete that part adequately.  

“You have been accepted into the hero course 1-A! This is one of two hero classes. We are looking forward to seeing you on the first day of classes. Have a wonderful day, and remember, to go beyond plus ultra!” The mouse-man waved a goodbye before the screen condensed itself.

You felt your body sink, disbelief taking over you. Your grandfather looked down at you, tears spilling down his face. “I am so proud of you. Your parents would be too, Y/N” You hugged him gently, tears falling from your eyes.

As your summer break passed by, you grew more anxious about your upcoming school year. You found out no one else in your middle school had been accepted into UA, so this was a completely new experience for you. You spent a lot of time training, hoping to get a better grasp on your quirk before transferring into the school. It was a safe bet to assume that these other kids had quirks better than yours, and falling behind was not an option. You weren't trying to be a number one hero- but you would be a hero, and a pretty damn good on at that. On the first day of classes, your grandfather saw you out the door. Your new uniform was pressed and ironed clean, the white shirt and grey skirt matched with black knee highs. Your grandfather tied your tie for you, smiling the whole time. You stared holes into your shoes, nerves clogging your mind.

“There is no reason to be nervous, you are there for a reason.”

You looked up at your grandfather, taken back by his ability to tell how distracted you were. You smiled at him as he removed his hands from your now tied tie. He smiled, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Good luck today, Y/N.” You nodded and left out the door, walking to UA.

It wasn’t a long walk, it was about twenty minutes. You walked through your small neighborhood, your neighbors waving as you walked. Word had gotten around that the small orphaned girl had gotten into UA, and they were perhaps more excited than you. You appreciated their support and hoped you could be their favorite hero one day.

You looked up at the stairs of UA in front of you, the anxiety growing in you gut. You felt your jaw clench in tension, the pressure of a new school year in such a large and elite building threatening to cause you to hurll. You once agains began to question your worth. Could someone with such a small quirk really be good enough for such an intense school? Some of the kids you had seen at your entrance exam had flashy quirks that some of the current heros could even envy. You took in a deep breath and accepted that if you were here you were meant to be here and you had earned your place here. You would train hard enough to catch up to the others. Despite feeling as anxious as you did, you would fake your confidence. You fixed your posture, trying to release the held tension in your shoulders and jaw, and made your way inside the building.

Once you found your class, you noticed a lot of other students sitting in their seats looking about as distant as you, clearly as anxious. A few students were already speaking as if they were friends, they likely came from the same middle schools. You found a open chair in the second row from the back on the outside row, closest to the door. You sat down and looked down at your folded hands, fidgeting with your nails and fingers. You heard rustling next to you, someone sitting down.

“Hi! My name is Nejire Hado!”

Your heart caught in your throat, a bit startled.”

“L/N Y/N.” You looked at the girl who had seated herself next to you. She was a bit shorter than average height, but she was more midsized, a combination of being more developed than others your age and her trained body. Her hair was long and thick, its sky blue color working in unison with her deep blue eyes. Her smile was big, her demeanor warm and inviting.

“L/N?” She cocks her head to the side, inquisitive. “I think we were in the same entrance exam…” She wasn’t able to finish her thought before getting distracted by another student sitting down behind her. He was much taller than Hado, however he was much more reserved than her. His eyes looked down the entire time, slouched down over his seats. His hair was done upward and was a deep purple, however you could see the soft point of his ears through his hair.

“Amajikii! I’m so glad we get to be in the same class!”

Tamaki Amajiki didn’t bother to look up at her, his voice was soft, barley above a mumble.

“Yea, me too.”

“Amajiki, this is L/N, she was in the hero exam with us! L/N, Amajiki and I ended up working together during the physical bit of the entrance exam. I’m so glad that three of us ended up together!”

You gave her a small nod, a bit overwhelmed. The new environment of the new school and Hado’s constant pep was unfamiliar to you. You weren’t necessarily shy like Amajiki was, but you were more reserved. You didn’t have many friends growing up, you always saw something like school as a place to learn, not really a place to play.

Hado kept talking, her conversations following sporadic trains of thought. She was rambling on about your new teacher, wondering who it could be. She listed off popular heroes at the time, Gang Orca, Grand Torino- she seemed to be the most excited out of all the students there, most of them seemed to be just as anxious as you and Amajiki. What you didn’t expect, however, was Eraserhead to wander into class.

“Hello everyone, I’m Shotua Aizawa, I’ll be your teacher.” His voice was mono-toned and deep, like how you imagine someone would sound after waking up from a nap. His eyes were red and swollen, large bags under his eyes. His hair was long and seemingly unkept, his face sHado wed with the stubble on his chin and upper lip. From the initial look of him, you felt your face almost completely turn up at him. He didn’t seem to be a teacher, never-the-less a Pro Hero. You glanced at some of the other students in your class, most of them sharing a common look of confusion. A few seemed to recognize Mr.Aizawa, but you couldn’t remember him being a hero of any sort of major significance, not a top 10 hero.

Mr.Aizawa started class off by going over some general rules and a somewhat underwhelming welcome to UA. It was very apparent that he didn’t see your time at UA to be a time to make friends, it was a time to become a hero. You agreed with him, in the end you will have to be better than your peers if you want to be at the top, you can’t make friends just to turn around and stab them in the back. He took down the seating chart, securing your neighborship to Hado and Amajiki. He informed you that it was time to start your physical hero training- he wanted you to learn more about each other's quirks. He led you all to the gym locker rooms and explained that the gym uniforms you would be wearing were inside.

The uniform wasn’t exactly the most flattering thing, it was a blue short-sleeved zip up with matching blue pants, the whole ensemble making the UA logo. You wore a black t-shirt underneath and pulled your hair out of your face. You were curious to see the quirks of your peers and wondered how yours would compare. Your quirk wasn’t traditional, but it was a good one. Your grandfather always said it would come to be a quirk liked by all and it showed a lot about you as a person. It was a unique quirk that was an attachment to you, like it or not.

All the students lined up outside, two large floor mats were in the field in front of you. Soon after, a second class of students appeared outside, their uniforms matching yours. They seemed to be the same age as you. They were escorted by Pro Hero Vlad King, who was presumably their teacher. Vlad King made his way over to Aizawa and exchanged an attempt at pleasantries, one Mr.Aizawa didn’t seem to want to return.

“Class, this is Pro Hero Vlad King, but in school he is Mr.Kan. He is class 1-Bs teacher. Class 1 B is also in the hero course, just like yourselves.”

Mr.Kan smirked, his underfangs poking up through the corner of his mouth. His build was much larger than Aizawa’s, he was built of more muscle and height.

“Class 1-A, it is a pleasure to meet you all, good luck in your training. Mr.Aizawa isn’t easy.”

Hado placed a hand on your shoulder lightly. You hadn’t even noticed she was next to you. She whispered into your ear, her eyes wide.

“Do you think this is going to be a hard exercise? It’s only the first day-”

You shrugged at her, noticing Amajiki cowering behind her. Mr.Aizawa returned his attention back to your class and looked at Amajiki dead on, daggers piercing from his gaze.  “Amajiki, you scored the highest on the entrance exam- you’ll go first.”

The class turned to look at Amajiki, the poor boy visibly shaking. He felt himself coward down, the glares from his peers enough to make him want to disappear. He felt a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, coming from Hado, of course. Amajiki made his way to the front of the class, his posture leaving his shoulder pushed forward, his eyes burning holes into the ground he was walking on.

Aizawa pushed a small button, a large wall growing behind the mat. It was probably 6 feet tall and made of concrete bricks. “Your task is to break this wall down. It’s made from concrete. You have to remain on this outering of the mat. Good luck.”

Amajiki took a deep breath and started to use his quirk. His arm began to dissipate, turning into a large tentacle. Amajiki didn’t even look up from the ground before sending his new appendage hurling at the wall. A small crack formed in it, but it wasn’t enough to break it completely. Amajiki groaned and looked even more visibly nervous. He retreated back to where he was standing at the back.

“Aw, poor Amajiki, that's too bad.” Hado pouted a bit. She smiled at Amajiki when he reached her again. “Good try Amajiki! You almost made it!” You looked over at them both in a side glance, noticing Tamki’s arm hadn’t completely returned back to its original kind, it was just a smaller tentacle.

Mr.Aizawa looked at the damage of the wall and made his decision. “Amajiki didn’t break it enough to give anyone an advantage, L/N can go next, you were the top score on the written exam.”

It was your turn to be the center of attention. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, wandering forward. You hadn’t known you had scored the highest on the written exam, you had only had a feeling you did. You wandered onto the mat, trying to get an idea of what you were dealing with. The wall was clearly going to be heavy, but it didn’t seem super long. It was only 4 or 5 feet across.

You let out a high pitched whistle and watched dozens of small rodents scurry towards you. Some of your peers looked down below them, remarks of confusion rising as a soft murmur. You concentrated your thoughts, trying to desperately focus on the task at hand. It was hard to focus on hundreds of rats when you felt the gaze of 20 kids, those kids all murmuring. The growing pressure from Aizawas wasn’t helping either. You hated your quirk for this reason, it wasn’t discreet. People were going to notice it, and they were going to know you were the source. You were able to get a message to the rats, your quirk allowing you to provide them with short commands, assuming they can hear your whistle and you can focus on them.

The rats began to shimmy themself through the opening between the wall and the mat. It had only been a few centimeters tall, but it was enough you could notice it and hope the rats would fit under it. The remaining rats began to scale the wall, creating an unbalance of weight on the side of the wall. You took a deep breath and let out one last whistle. You watched as the wall slowly toppled over. The bottom few rows remained tacked, but the top few walls fell off, hitting the ground. You let out a breath you weren’t sure you were holding in. The class behind you began to speak louder, but you weren’t interested in what they had to say. You whistled again and watched the rats scurry away into places you couldn’t see.

“Very good, L/N, but you have a lot to work on.”

You nodded before retreating to the back of the group again. Your peers parted for you, their gazes heavier than when you started. You reached the back, only to be bombarded by dozens of questions by Nejire. She asked you about your quirk, when you found out you had it, and if it only worked for rats. You tried answering her as she spoke, hardly able to keep up. Most of the students had shifted their gaze off you, their attention restored on the new students demonstrating on a reset wall. However, you could still sense you were being watched from someone.

You turned to look at class 1-B. They were working on training like yours, but they seemed to be doing something different. Their training seemed more adapted to their quirks. You were able to trace the gaze back to someone standing in the middle of their class, his eyes focused on you. His eyes were big and a deep blue, his expression seemed puzzled as he watched you. You locked eyes with him, cocking an eyebrow at him. He looked flustered and moved his gaze away from you and back to the training happening in front of him. His hair was blond and was pulled into a short ponytail behind his head. He was a bit shorter than Amajiki, but his build was much larger, and he had well developed muscles. You had no idea who he was or why he was watching you.

You were pulled out of your observation when Hado was poking your shoulder. “Y/N, do you have a lunch plan?”

You shook your head. “I hadn’t thought about it-”

She grabbed your hands in hers, swinging them around a bit. “Sit with me! Amajiki says he has a friend from middle school to sit with- but I want you to come.”

You thought about what Aizawa had said. The idea of getting close to anyone seemed bad. But, at the same time, spending 3 years alone would be difficult. And Amajiki had a quirk you wanted to study. You looked at her, her eyes wide with wonder. “Yea okay.”

Hado threw her hands up in joy, and you felt the gaze from the blond boy in 1-B return again, but you didn’t look back at him. Amajiki spoke up, his voice still hardly above a whisper. “I think you are going soon Hado-”

Hado dropped your hands and returned her focus back to the mat. You felt a soft smile grow on your face watching her. She practically radiated a welcoming warmth. Even if you didn’t want a friend, you couldn’t have avoided her.

➡�� Chapter 2  ➡

[snowdice]

A Twist of Fate {Part 6} (Everything’s Fine Universe) [Dice Roll 13]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus & Janus & Patton, Remy & Patton

Characters: Janus, Patton, Remus, Remy

Summary: It wasn’t unheard of for people to gain soulmarks later in life, but it was quite rare. Usually fate was set in stone. Yet, when one’s fated death was prevented, fate had to make some adjustments.

As he fell, Patton may have felt a strange prickling feeling across his skin. He however, was not paying attention to that, far too distracted and confused. All he knew was that by the time he hit the ground, both of his hands were covered with marks. Later when he went home he’d notice even more in other places, but the ones he noticed when he hit the ground were the obvious ones on his hands.

Then, there was Janus. Janus had only one soulmark on his body. At least. He had only one soulmark that hadn’t been burnt off years ago. When he landed on top of Patton, he did not notice the marks that suddenly appeared on his arms and face. Patton did, however, notice two little designs appear on him: one along the side of his nose and the other right below the scaring on the left side of his face. The second was already colored in by the time they hit the ground.

Universe: Soulmate AU and Superhero AU

Genre: The Dice Roll said fluff and it is… but… it’s more fluff and angst, hurt/comfort-ish

Notes: Child abuse, homelessness, malnutrition, acid burns, platonic soulmates, car accidents mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned, chronic pain, abnormal growth

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Patton hurried to his front door, his mind frantically trying to figure out what he was going to say to Remy when he opened it. Yesterday, Remy had been his only soulmate, but now that was very much not the case. Patton wouldn’t know how to begin to explain the change even if he didn’t have two easily spooked children in his kitchen right now. Even if he knew where to start, he wouldn’t be able to explain without bringing up Evan and Jimmy, and their trust in him was so fragile, he feared even saying their names aloud to someone they did not know would shatter it forever.

He wanted to tell Remy though, if for no other reason than to have someone he knew and trusted to talk to about it. Patton had done his best to take everything in stride, but his head had been spinning since yesterday. Part of him thought he really had been hit by that car, and he was now having a vivid hallucination as he died. Maybe his mind was recalling the conversation about wanting children he’d had earlier in the day and was spinning a web of dreams before his consciousness faded away.

…Reality had yet to truly sink in even after a night’s rest.

He’d stayed up later than usual after he’d managed to finally find a sleeping arrangement that the children would tolerate. He’d taken the time to find and categorize every single new soulmark on his body before finally letting himself collapse into bed long past midnight. Considering what he’d found, it still took him a while to calm his brain enough to sleep.

There were, of course, the first ones he’d noticed on his hands. Three of these were in the middle on the back of his hands. Evan’s stood alone on his left hand. It was slightly towards the wrist, but still firmly in the territory that meant it was a parent-child relationship. Jimmy’s and one of the unfilled in soulmarks were on his right hand. They were so close together than someone might mistake them for one soulmark if one was not filled in and the other not.

The other two on his hands drifted more towards the side of each hand, close to, but slightly out of the range of a parental soulmark. When he cross referenced it with a diagram on the internet, he found it was more than likely a very close uncle like relationship. He wondered if, or well, hoped that those might match up with Remy’s two parental ones. It would be what made the most sense, after all.

That was five new soulmarks, but that was not where the surprises ended. When he’d finally gotten a chance to look at himself in the mirror, he’d been shocked to find a little crescent moon shaped outline on his neck. That was. Well. Patton had not expected that. It made sense, he guessed, that it was on his neck. He had definitely not expected a romantic soulmark which would be more towards the chest. He’d never really had those feelings, after all. On his neck meant it was a platonic soulmate, but not exactly friends. They probably shared the children as soulmates, at least the three definitely parental soulmates. It was probably a good thing considering all of the children Patton was suddenly responsible for. Or at least… he hoped he would be responsible for.

Those six had been startling enough, but he’d also gotten a few more. His back was now filled with friendship soulmarks that had not been there before. There were 5 more, in fact, putting him at a grand total of 14 soulmarks.

He was considered a Well-Loved now. He was an Unloved yesterday and a Well-Loved today. It was wonderful, but also strange and a bit terrifying. How was he supposed to explain this all to Remy, the one soulmate he’d always had, without even being able to mention the two new ones he’d found by name?

He still had not found an answer to that question even as he opened his front door.

“Sup babe,” Remy greeted immediately. “I brought coffee, but I already drank mine, so I’m going to go invade your kitchen. Kk? Here’s yours.”  Patton took the coffee cup automatically as it was thrust at him. Remy then went to push past Patton into his house, but Patton quickly stepped in his way. Remy’s nose scrunched up in confusion.

“I’m actually busy today,” Patton lied. “I forgot. I have plans. Could we reschedule?”

“Busy?” Remy asked. His voice was skeptical. Patton wasn’t a good liar in general, let alone to the man who had known him since elementary school. “Busy with what?”

“Uh, just… stuff.”

Remy studied him for a long moment, his gaze somehow sharp even though Patton could not see his eyes. “What’s that on your neck?” he asked. “‘Cause it looks like some sort of weird ass hickey, but you’re ace as hell.”

Patton quickly slapped a hand over the soulmark there. “It’s uh, nothing,” Patton said.

“…What’s on your hand?”

Remy reached for Patton, but Patton jerked away, tilting his head to hide the soulmark on his neck and hiding both hands behind his back, almost spilling coffee on himself in his haste. “It’s nothing. Sorry, I can’t spend the day with you today. Can you leave?”

Patton saw Remy’s eyebrows pop up over his sunglasses. “Gurl what is wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Patton promised, “but I need you to leave. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Uh huh…” Remy did not seem convinced. In fact, despite his standard cool demeanor, he looked rather alarmed.

“Oh god,” Evan groaned from behind Patton, “just let him in.”

Patton turned back to look at him. “But…”

“You’re a shit liar, and he’s going to call the cops on us if you don’t,” Evan said. Patton really wanted to correct the swearing but held his tongue. “Just… let him in.”

Patton turned to look at Remy who was giving him that slightly to the left head tilt that meant ‘I’m squinting at you in confusion.’

“Why don’t you come in?” Patton said. He stepped out of the way to let Remy walk into the house and closed the door behind him. They all awkwardly stared at each other for a long moment. “Let’s…” Patton finally said. “Living room. If that’s okay with everyone?”

Evan didn’t respond but stalked back towards the kitchen. Patton assumed he was getting Jimmy. That or bolting.

“What the hell, Pat?” Remy asked, voice low.

“They’re my soulmates, apparently,” Patton said. He waved the hand with Evan’s soulmark at him.

“You’re what?” Remy asked, then, “… ‘They’?”

Patton reached over to grab his hand, giving it a little squeeze, more for his benefit than for Remy’s. “I’m just as confused by it as you,” he said. “I got new soulmarks yesterday and two of them are already filled in.” He pulled him towards the living room. “It’s not just those two either. There’s… there’s a lot Rem.”

Remy took the coffee out of Patton’s hand and set it and his own empty cup on the coffee table so he could study both of Patton’s hands. One of his thumbs rubbed gently over one of the marks on the side of his hand. Had he done the math too? Patton had to wonder. Had he wondered why Patton did not at least have soulmarks for Remy’s children? Patton had never dared to bring it up, but Remy wasn’t stupid. Did he see the same thing in those two soulmarks as Patton?

“And some on my back too,” Patton told him.

“Not to mention…” Remy gestured at his neck. Patton put his hand over the mark, blushing a bit.

“Yeah…”

Just then, Evan and Jimmy entered from the kitchen. Jimmy looked at Remy and instantly opened his mouth. “Oh! I know you.”

Patton glanced over at Remy, but he seemed just as confused as Patton, so he turned back to the kids. Evan had gone tense all of a sudden as though readying to run. His hand dug into Jimmy’s shoulder and Jimmy’s head jerked to him. “No, something happened to him. He didn’t do something.” That confounding statement made Evan slowly relax, but he still looked over at Remy and Patton leerily. Jimmy did not seem to have the same hesitancy as Evan. He shook off the grip on his shoulder and waved. “Hi! You’re a doctor!”

Remy opened his mouth slightly. “…Well,” he said slowly. “I’m currently in medical school.

“…That’s what I meant.”

Patton watched curiously as Evan’s eyes slipped closed in frustration. Something was… off with Jimmy. Patton could not quite figure out what it was yet, but clearly something about him was being hidden, and Evan knew what it was. Patton had some suspicions, but like his knowledge that Evan was shapeshifter, he kept them to himself.

“Uh huh,” Remy replied.

“Why don’t we all take a seat?” Patton suggested. Remy looked over at him and then sat on one of the armchairs next to the couch. Patton sat on the couch next to him a moment later. Jimmy bounced over to the couch too and with no hesitation, he climbed into Patton’s lap. Patton put a hand on the boy’s head, heart in his throat. He did not dare to hug him though, as Evan was already shifting nervously without Patton effectively trapping Jimmy. Evan was left the only one standing, and he did not seem inclined to rectify this. Patton did not comment.

“So, you three got new soulmarks yesterday?” Remy asked.

“Uh huh,” Jimmy answered for them all. He curled one of his fists into Patton’s sweater seemingly not even aware of what he was doing.

“I’m not quite sure how,” Patton said. “I didn’t even know that could happen.”

“Usually it can’t,” Remy replied. “There are only two documented cases in the last century. We learned about them a few weeks ago. One was a polio patient for his doctor in the 1950s, and the other was only a year ago in New York, I think. Someone born with no soulmarks gained one randomly. In both cases, they only gained one. I haven’t even heard of any instances where multiple were gained and why it happened is greatly debated, but there aren’t enough cases to prove any sort of pattern.” Remy looked at him curiously. “Was there anything that happened to you that may have caused it?”

Patton hesitated. There was a clear answer to that question, but it wasn’t exactly easy to tell your best friend that you’d almost di-”

“He almost got smushed by a car!” Jimmy informed him. “Evan ran across the street and shoved him out of the way, but he was going to bleed out in the street and die.”

Patton winced as Remy looked at him, expression unreadable. “You were going to die?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Patton replied softly.

He could tell that the thought badly hurt Remy, but he seemed to shove the pain down. “And being saved caused the new soulmarks?” he asked.

“They were there by the time we hit the ground,” Patton confirmed.

“I guess that makes sense,” Remy said after a moment of thought.

“It does?” Patton asked.

“If you suddenly weren’t going to die when you were before, it makes sense you’d gain soulmarks.”

There was silence as the room absorbed that.

“What’s your name?” Jimmy asked suddenly, voice lighter than it probably should have been considering the previous topic. “Why are you a doctor? Why are you wearing sunglasses inside? Why are you carrying around an empty coffee cup? Are you going to refill it or just throw it away? Did you know that 16,009,402,282 disposable coffee cups were thrown away last year? Wha-”

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time kid,” Remy said, his mouth edging up into a smile. “My old brain can only process so much at once. My name is Remy.”

Jimmy frowned. “Not being able to remember many things is probably bad if you’re going to be a doctor,” he said.

Patton couldn’t help but laugh and pat his head.

“I guess you’re right,” Remy agreed. “I’ll have to work on that. What’s your name?”

“I’m, uh, Jimmy,” he said. “Like I said, that’s Evan. He’s not going to introduce himself because he’s crabby.”

“I see,” Remy replied, lips twitching. “That’s okay. He can be crabby if he wants to be. I’m sure he’s a little stressed out about everything.”

“He’s stressed out about a lot of things all the time,” Jimmy confirmed. Patton glanced up at Evan to see he was very displeased with this statement, but he kept his mouth sealed shut. “Oh!" Jimmy said, bounding a couple of times in Patton’s lap. “You should do a doctor thing to Evan!”

“Jimmy,” Evan hissed.

Jimmy didn’t even blink at the vehemence of Evan’s tone. “His bones are growing in wrong,” he declared, matter-of-factly, “and he’s bad at being warm enough. Like a snake!” Patton internally winced. He wasn’t an expert, but that sounded like it was probably the result of shapeshifting too much and for too long. “Plus, he has bad burns on his back that are healed but still hurt him.”

“Traitor,” Evan accused hotly. He looked like he wanted to escape the room, but he obviously wouldn’t leave without Jimmy, and Jimmy was in Patton’s lap. Patton wondered if that was on purpose.

Jimmy frowned at him. “You need to see a doctor,” he insisted. “You almost pass out every day!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other for a few long moments.

“I’m not going to make anyone accept medical care they don’t want,” Remy said evenly. Evan looked at him. He was pretty twitchy and looked like a trapped animal. “If you want me to look at you, I will, but I won’t make you even if you are sick, and you can stop me at any time.”

“Really?” Evan asked suspiciously.

“Really,” Remy confirmed. “It’s an open offer, but we can stop talking about it if that would make you more comfortable.”

Jimmy was frowning at Evan, but Evan just glared back. The younger boy seemed to shrug it off after a moment. He tilted his head back to look at Patton. “Can we make the cookies now?” he asked.

Patton laughed. “Sure,” he agreed. “We can make the cookies.”

 Evan slowly seemed to relax just a bit as the day went by. As promised, Patton made double chocolate chip cookies with the help… well ‘help’ of both Jimmy and Remy. Jimmy was a bit too enthusiastic and often almost knocked things over. He also had… interesting ideas for additions to the batter that he did not always remember to ask for permission for before putting them in the bowl. Remy, on the other hand knew exactly what he was doing when he tried poring coffee into the batter, and Patton was very unhappy with the fact that he was trying to caffeinate Jimmy of all people. Evan ended up being the most help despite insisting on just observing. He warned Patton about almost all of the potential disasters before they were put into the batter.

After the cookies were put in the oven, they went with Remy and Patton’s original plan of watching movies, though they chose more age appropriate ones than the planned romantic comedies. If Patton was being honest, he actually preferred the Disney movies over whatever Remy would have inevitably chosen.

Despite there not being any caffeine in the cookies they ate, Jimmy insisted upon bouncing between sitting on the couch with Patton and in the recliner with Evan every 30 minutes or so. This had been going on for 2¼ movies and didn’t show signs of stopping. He’d just jumped onto Patton without warning, causing Patton to jerk and accidently knock over a bowl of popcorn into Remy’s lap. Remy just laughed, looking over at Jimmy with a smile and that’s when Evan broke.

“What would you do?” he asked.

Remy blinked over at him, one hand still distractedly brushing popcorn off of his front.

“In the doctor thing or whatever,” Evan clarified.

Remy didn’t move from his seat in the armchair next to the couch, instead just folding his hands together over the popcorn in his lap. He calmly explained from across the living room with Lady and the Tramp running in the background every part of a normal doctor’s check-up. Then he explained about wanting to take a look at his burn scars as well as do a couple of X-rays.

“How would you do the X-rays?” he asked suspiciously.

Remy smiled slightly and tapped the edges of his sunglasses. “There’s a reason I wear sunglasses inside,” he said.

“You have a superpower,” Evan said, something odd in his tone.

“X-ray vision. Believe it or not, that’s not why I’m becoming a doctor.”

Evan bit his lip. “You can… do the first few things. We’ll see about the rest.”

“Alright kid,” Remy agreed easily. “Pat, you have a thermometer and blood pressure cuff, yeah? Can you get those for me?”

“Sure,” Patton said, gently pushing Jimmy off of his lap and walking to the main bathroom to grab what Remy had requested. When he returned, Remy had stood and crossed to kneel next to Evan’s chair and Jimmy had abandoned the couch to sit on his armrest.

“There was also a stethoscope,” Patton said. He set the instruments on the side table and then quickly backed off to give Evan some space and sat on the couch again.

“Thanks Pat,” Remy said without looking at him. He was careful not to crowd Evan, giving him the thermometer to take his temperature himself and asking him to tilt his head so he could flash a penlight in his ear instead of guiding it to the side himself like doctors usually did when Patton got checkups. Evan even allowed him to put the stethoscope under his shirt to listen to his breathing.

“Okay,” Remy said once he was done with that. “We’re done with that part. Up to you if you want me to do the rest.”

Evan hesitated. He glanced over at Jimmy. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “You can look at the burns.

“You’ll have to take your shirt off,” Remy said.

“Right.”

“Would you like a blanket to cover up the rest of you?” Patton offered.

Evan glanced at him. “I… Yes, I would.”

Patton nodded and grabbed one of the blankets on the back of the couch. He walked it over to him and handed it over. He took it and wrapped it around himself before starting to squirm out of his shirt from underneath it.

“Okay,” he said after he was finished. Patton could see the stress at his vulnerability growing in his eyes.

“It’s on your back, right?” Remy asked, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Alright. I’m going to touch your shoulder,” Remy soothed. When Evan nodded, he reached out and slowly pulled the blanket away from his back. The acid burn scar there was much worse than the one on his face, deeper and more widespread. It made Patton’s chest ache to think about the pain that injury had caused when it had happened, especially if it was bad enough that it still hurt him now. “Okay?” Remy made sure.

“Yeah,” Evan answered.

Remy nodded and leaned forward, his fingertips just brushing the skin on the child’s back. The second their skin touched, they both jumped. “Interesting,” Remy said, surprised.

Patton’s eyes were glued on what had startled them both. A soulmark had filled in on Evan’s back right in the middle of the deepest part of the burn. It looked like nothing Patton had ever seen before. Before he and Remy had touched, Patton hadn’t been able to see that there had ever been a soulmark there. Whatever had been used across his shoulders had seemingly completely erased it, but now there was an emerald blot of color, twisted and distorted by the burn, but still definitely there. Whatever shape it was meant to be before was indiscernible, but the way the color subtlety popped out against his dark skin was still incredibly beautiful.

“I…” Evan twisted around to try to look at the soulmark in confusion, “didn’t know you could get a soulmark that was burnt off.”

“You can’t,” Remy said. He squinted at Evan and then at Patton, “but I guess you’re weird kid.”

Evan’s eyes flickered up to him. “You’re the other half of this equation,” he pointed out, “so what does that make you?”

“Eh,” Remy replied with a smile. “I already knew I was weird.”

Evan smiled tentatively back. He seemed to be calmed by the fact that Remy was his soulmate, contrary to how he’d felt when he’d learned Patton was his soulmate. Patton was a bit surprised, but he guessed it made sense considering a friendship soulmark didn’t give Remy any legal rights to him unlike a parental one. His fear was about control, Patton had surmised by the way he’d acted and the things he’d said, about autonomy. He felt Patton was a threat to that, but Remy was not one.

“I’m going to continue looking, okay?” Remy said, laying a hand on his shoulder again. Evan allowed it and Remy kept looking at the burns through his glasses still. He asked questions about how much and when they hurt, and then sat back after a few minutes. “How about the X-rays.”

Evan took a breath. “Yeah, why not?”

Remy nodded and took off his sunglasses. He spent a few minutes looking at Evan, asking him to move into certain positions every so often. Eventually he put the sunglasses back on and sat back.

“I’m going to be straight with you kid,” Remy finally said. “Are you a shapeshifter?” The tension that had left him after learning Remy was his soulmate returned full force. “It’s alright if you are,” Remy placated. “I won’t do anything or tell anyone outside of this room, but I haven’t heard much about impaired thermoregulation in anyone without a brain or spine injury unless they were shapeshifters. That combined with your bone growth irregularity imply you’ve been using shape-shifting too much.”

Evan did not seem inclined to answer, his eyes on his knees. Jimmy did not have the same reluctance. “Yes, he is,” Jimmy said.

“You’re a dick, Jimmy,” Evan grumbled.

“You probably shouldn’t teach him that,” Patton tried.

“He taught me most of it,” Evan replied with an eyeroll.

“I know all of the bad words!” Jimmy declared, cheerfully. He held up a finger as though starting to count. “Cu-”

“No, no,” Patton quickly cut him off. “I believe you.”

Evan seemed amused at least, his mind evidently taken off his powers for the moment.

Remy snorted a bit himself. “You are a character, aren’t you?” he asked.

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Evan said.

Remy reached out to pat Jimmy on the head, and really Patton shouldn’t have been surprised when they both jolted a bit.

“Cool!” Jimmy enthused. “I have a doctor soulmate. Can you X-ray me, like with a real X-ray machine not with your weird eyes? I want to see my insides! Then can you label all of my bones for me?!”

Remy snorted. “I reiterate: a character.”

“I don’t know what ‘reiterate’ means!” Jimmy declared proudly.

“Say something again,” Remy informed him. He glanced down at his arm. “Huh,” he said. “That one wasn’t there yesterday,” he said. There was one on the back of his hand almost at his wrist, meaning it was somewhere between an older brother and an uncle relationship. Jimmy likely had one higher on his arm.

“You didn’t notice?” Patton asked.

“Bitch please,” Remy waved him off. “I woke up 5 minutes before I had to leave for my exam and came right here.”

“Remy, can you please not…”

“He almost said the ‘c’ word Patty. I think they’re a lost cause.”

Patton frowned, unhappily, but decided to let it slide for now.

Remy turned back to Evan, still smiling softly. “So,” he said. “I’m guessing you’ve been using your shapeshifting a lot.”

Evan nodded.

“Well, doctors typically recommend that people don’t shapeshift much until their around 14,” Remy informed him. “Mostly because overextending it can cause some problems. How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Evan answered after a beat of hesitation.

“Alright,” Remy said. “That’s a little bit young… and I can tell you’ve been doing it for a while. You’ve honestly messed up a bit of your growth process.”

Evan looked at his lap, not saying anything.

“I don’t blame you,” Remy said. “I don’t think you probably wanted to do all of that, which means you probably had to. You’re obviously a survivor, but it does pose some issues moving forward.”

“So, should he try to stop shapeshifting?” Patton asked.

“It would actually be worse if he doesn’t use it at all at this point,” Remy replied. He turned to Evan who was still not looking at him. “There are exercises I can give you. For now, you should only do those twice a day and no other shapeshifting. After a couple of weeks, you can start using it a bit outside of that, but no full shifts and not for more than a few minutes at a time. That should get your body heat to regulate more normally.”

Evan did not look happy with this prospect. “I’ll try,” he said dubiously.

“I guess that’s all I can really ask,” Remy said with a sigh. “The bone growth would take more to fix. More physical therapy with your shape shifting as well as without. Some of it’s probably permanent damage.”

Evan shrugged. “I’d figured,” he said a bit bitterly.

“It will be alright though,” Remy assured, putting his hand on Evan’s knee.

Evan looked up at him and Patton could see exactly what he was thinking. The being able to not shapeshift at all for two weeks. The extended physical therapy necessary to even start to fix the bone growth irregularities. Those things depended on having somewhere safe to do so. It depended on staying with Patton, and Evan still wasn’t sold on that.

“Of course,” Evan said, and Patton could tell he was lying.

Patton would need to do his best to convince him to stay. A lot more was on the line than he’d thought.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 7

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

It Takes Two to Tango

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, guns, knives, violence, self destructive behavior, mentions of mania and depression, mentions of bipolar disorder, descriptions of tattoo guns, slight slut shaming maybe, a bong, allusion to corrupt government, mentions of prostitution, mentions of parental neglect, and mentions of piercings.

Word Count: 6.5k

Songs: Drew Barrymore- SZA, No Role Modelz- J.Cole, Baby Blue- Action Bronson, Little Dark Age- MGMT, Gansta- Kehlani, Shutter Island- Jessie Reyez, Good Days-SZA, King’s Dead, Kendrick Lamar, and Saint Bernard- Lincoln.

“Which was odd because usually he talks the most on these rides. After we got over the initial awkwardness of the whole fire and Vulture thing we fell back into the way of things. Well if he was going to play this game I would too because what’s that saying? It takes two to tango.”

A/N: Hold on tight a lot goes down and it’s not looking up anytime soon. 

Series Masterlist  Previous Part   Next Part 

I was running faster than I’d ever had before the heels I had been trying on? Not helping my case. Since this is apparently my brand now I backed myself up onto the edge of the building. 

I had a gun trained on me.

“Come with us Y/N please,” 

“No! Who the fuck is Y/N?”

“Don’t play dumb ma’am we’ve done extensive research on you and we see you’ve done the same with us,” 

I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck you! I have no idea what you’re talking about and this is harassment,”

“You’re cornered there’s no way out,” 

The man wasn’t going to shoot me. No one would’ve come all the way out here and have chased me for this long when they had a gun if they were really planning on killing me. They would’ve done it already. And if this was who I thought it was I was not going with them. 

“Just come with us, we’re on your side, we’re not trying to hurt you,” That sounds exactly like someone who was going to hurt me would say.  

“Yeah says the man who has a gun aimed at me,” I rolled my eyes. 

“This is simply a safety precaution, just make this easier for everyone,” 

I looked back at him before making my decision. I was getting the hell out of here now. 

I bent backwards towards the street underneath me. Instead of free falling I put my hands behind me going into a backbend kickover grabbing onto the ledge. 

Using my legs as a propeller I launched myself closer to the wall. I’d gotten lucky and the walls had protruding bricks that I could scale. 

The man who I think was from SHIELD was hot on my tail. So I had to move fast. I scaled my way to the nearest balcony jumping into the pool in a leap of faith. 

I’d made it in thankfully. Guess my story wasn’t over.

Then I had to run. I was running down the streets. Thankfully this was New York and no one would bat an eye at someone who was drenched head to toe running down the street. They’d just pass me off as another nut job and go about their day. 

So much has happened I feel like this is an episode of shameless. You really were too busy to tune in last week you skank ass bitch? I almost died twice and I still managed to check in, whatever, just pay attention to the next clip. 

“So that building exploded and that loud siren noise I think I told you about was going off in my ears and when I left the plane with Vulture and Spidey were fighting by a crashed plane and Vulture put too much power onto his wings and they were gonna blow up. And I got mad like fucking top of the anger iceberg mad. So when I was like on the verge of blacking out like fucking fire came out of my hands and disintegrated those wings. Like they turned to ash before my very eyes. Then I had a panic attack of course and that’s pretty much it,” 

“Uh… I just called you here to tell you I found something about that SHIELD guy who came after but, I’m glad you’re okay,” Felicia told me.

“Sorry… I guess I got too excited,” 

“What'd you find?” I moved over to her in her spinning chair. 

“Look and see for yourself,” She moved out the way.

I sighed plopping down onto the small twin bed.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said, picking up a piece of popcorn. 

“What are you talking about?” Carmen asked as if she was genuinely confused. 

“You’re trying to trick me into eating and sleeping, which is totally not fair because if I want to wallow in self pity I should be able to,” 

“I know what happens when it gets bad and I’m not letting you get there again,”

I sighed again. She is always claiming that she sees herself in me and she wants me to be the best version of myself. 

She acts like since she’s one year older than me that she’s my mentor or something.

 Plus she also thinks I have an undiagnosed and untreated bipolar disorder so who’s to say everything else she says isn’t a lie also. 

We were watching a Wrinkle in Time and I knew I was going to cry when the girl’s dad came back. I always did and I didn’t want to cry today. 

“Wanna go do something?”

“Sure... Where are we going?” 

“Out,” 

I tried on a lot of Carmens clothes and ended up wearing the most extravagant outfit I’d ever worn. I felt extremely giddy for no reason in particular. I was wearing a puffy skirt and corset. We were walking about the streets of Brooklyn with no clear destination in mind just talking.

“I just find it funny that all you have to do to be famous on Tiktok is be white and skinny like smoke a cigarette in a subway station or some shit,”

“Why don’t we get famous?” 

“Now how would we get famous,” I poked. 

“I’m offended that you don’t think we could,” She stopped on the side of the street. 

“Gimme your phone,” She demanded in a kind way.

I plopped it into her palm. 

I’d honestly forgotten where I was for a second because I’d zoned out yet again. She put the phone back in my hand and she had made a Tiktok account for the both of us. 

She was only checking to see if I liked the account name because she took the phone right back afterwards.

I didn’t mind. 

“I should get a tattoo right?” I asked, putting another one of the chamoy gummy worms in my mouth. 

“How many do you have now?” 

“I think like twelve?”

“And that’s not enough for you?”

“Noo! I like the ones I have. I just want a bigger one.” 

“Then do it?” 

We were actually in walking distance of a tattoo parlour I just didn’t trust them. Never cheat on your nail tech or hairstylist and it goes the same for tattoo artists. 

Two subway rides later we were in Queens. I walked up to the front desk and was about to ask for my go to artist but she walked out the back room before I had the chance.

“Y/N, ‘s that you?” She asked. 

“The one and only,” I twirled around in my dress. 

“This dress is very different than your usual style but I can’t say I don’t love it,” She pulled at the fabric then glanced up her eyes, lighting up in recognition. She gasped “Is this Carmen?” 

I nodded “My bad lemme introduce you to each other. Carmen this is Enchantress and you already know Carmen apparently,” 

I’d played a Russian roulette sort of thing with my tattoo Pinterest board just clicking one with my eyes closed. Then there was the buzzing of the gun moving along my skin. Puncturing it in a way that felt extremely bittersweet. 

I never understood people who said tattoos hurt. I could always barely feel them. They felt like a simple scrape over your skin. Also at this shop they still give you the wrapping for your tattoo but it’s filled with ink still so you can move it around in the bubble. I like messing with the ink sack. I think that’s why I come here so often.

I was admiring the tattoo on my lower abdomen in the mirror when I was startled.  

“Wait!” Enchantress exclaimed, starling me “I just realized you got a piercing. Come here,” She beckoned. 

She turned towards me 

“It’s actually super straight, did you do this?” 

I opened my mouth to respond when Carmen answered for me.

“No, some girl did it for her in her school bathroom,” I really gotta stop telling her everything. She’s always snitching on me.

“I want to be mad but I can’t because it actually looks super healthy,” She titled my chin up to get a better view “However if it gets infected I’m beating your ass,” 

We exited the shop after I paid well, Carmen paid but I’ll pay her back. There was a pretty hefty discount too, because Enchantress loved me apparently, I loved her too. She’s an older sister figure like my role model. I mean she was when I was a few years younger. I think I’ve grown out of role models.

I felt a sharp uncomfortable sensation in my body which sort of felt like those anxiety brain zaps but located in my abdomen. 

I looked behind me and there was something off about this man who was standing a few feet behind me. I accidently made eye contact with him and he bolted off. 

Weird. 

“Y/N are you even listening to me?” 

“Huh,” I turned in Carmen’s directions “Sorry what'd you say?” 

“I was saying that since you got a tattoo, I’m gonna cut and dye my hair,” 

“Cool what color?” 

“I don’t know yet let’s go just to CVS ‘nd decide there,” 

I was sitting on the kitchen counter behind the chair Carmen was in as I applied the bleach to her hair singing along to the song playing. 

Why is it so hard to accept the party is over?

You came with your new friend

And her mom jeans and her new Vans

I set the bowl of hair bleach onto the counter hopping down to get ready for my favorite part of the song. 

And she's perfect and I hate it 

I sang it loudly moving my hands around like I always do releasing my energy. It was almost like therapy. Who am I kidding SZA is therapy. 

I used the bathroom and I couldn’t find soap. I looked under the cabinet and found the soap. I also found something else I wasn’t expecting to see. I brought it back into the kitchen with me.

“You have a hello kitty bong?”

She grabbed it from my hands examining it. 

“Well actually I stole it from my sister,” 

“No way, this is Dinah’s? Because she just got ten times cooler,” 

“All I know was she got back in college, then she just stopped using it,” 

I finished Carmen’s hair which for some reason she trusted me enough to cut curtain bangs for her honestly they didn’t look too bad. It was just very time consuming. 

“Okay but are you sure, how’d you know he’s gay?” Harry questioned leaning back to look at the kid again. 

“Just watch,” I raised my voice just enough for him to be able to hear me “Charlie!” 

He turned around as if he were stunned that I was talking to him. 

“Who me?” He asked.

“Yes you,”

“Oh,”

“So can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah sure I guess…”

“What’s your favorite Percy Jackson book?”

“The answer Lightning Thief is pretty basic but it’s my favorite or maybe the Titan’s Curse, I’m not sure,” 

“Okay cool, thank you,” I turned back to face Harry “See,” 

“That doesn’t prove anything but okay,”

“He knew more than one book in the Percy Jackson series that tells me all I need to know,” 

“I know more than one Percy Jackson book,” He eyed me.

“Yeah and you’re gay,”

He just huffed. Got him there. 

“He still wouldn’t fuck you though,” I sat tucked my legs underneath me.

“Whatever shouldn’t you be in your class? Which is it again?”

“Physics,” 

“Oh…”

“Oh what? Don’t oh me,” 

“You’re avoiding Peter,” 

“I’m not avoiding Peter,” I totally was. Just Harry thinks I’m doing it because I like him. I didn’t tell him that but I might've let him believe it, because how do you even go about telling someone Hey I’m avoiding the person because fire came out of my body and they saw it.  I’d sound insane. 

As I was walking to the gym and by to, I mean away from, but that’s not the point, I could’ve sworn I saw the same man from Saturday in the window near the crowd of students. 

Accompanied by the same gut feeling. 

I pushed my way into the gym. To avoid him. I bumped into someone. Off instinct I got defensive but then I heard an 

“Oh, sorry. Sorry!” Once they’d turned around I realized it had been Peter. Just my luck. 

“You’re fine that was basically my fault anyway,” 

I was going to just walk over to one of my friends but they weren’t here and Liz literally just left the school. So I had no escape. 

Well there was one escape. There’s always a way out.

“Y/N!” The female gym coach called. 

“Yes?” I rolled my eyes.

“Where are your gym clothes?” 

“Probably in the locker room...” 

“Why aren’t you wearing them?”

“I didn’t feel like it,”

“You need to change for your grade, participation is important,” 

I picked up my backpack off the floor before pushing open the doors to the girls locker room. Instead of going towards my locker I headed straight for the metal doors leading into the hallway. I went to the space I always seemed to drift to when I had nowhere else to go. 

The teachers bathroom. 

I know that sounds weird but it’s the only one I can lock. I stole a key a while back when I went to get my phone back from one of the teachers. 

I guess Carmen was a psychic or something because one of the videos she’d posted on our group account of us eating in the dresses, me getting that tattoo, and dying Carmen’s hair had blown up. 

I did not see her take any of the clips but the proof was right in front of me. 

The video had half a million views and I assumed that was because of all the comments helping pushing the algorithm.

Some of them were nice like

hey lol 

you’re both gorgeous omg 

That tattoo is cool af 

I want to be you 

I should pay you to do my hair lmao

I can't tell if i want to be you

The other half were like 

No child should be getting a tattoo you look so young

That is the devils sign I’m praying for you. 

Why please Go To God✝️✝️🙏🏻🙏🏻♥️

Im praying for you 

At first I was confused as to why half of the comments were people praying. Then I realized it was because Carmen had on her pentagram necklace. 

I’m definitely not complaining about the comments though because they got me that many views, likes, and follows, but the ignorance upsets me. A pentagram only represents Earth, Air, Water, and Fire it’s about balance. 

 I think it’s cool, kinda like the Avatar. It has nothing to do with Satan. I didn’t really want to think about Fire. I was still freaking out about Friday. It hadn’t happened again so maybe I dreamt it or something. 

Somehow I spent the rest of gym and half of what should’ve been me heading to detention responding to every Christian’s comment with something dumb or witty. 

I was walking towards the detention room and was startled by Peter. Again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?” 

“Um… this is gonna sound insane but,” he paused looking down fiddling with his hands. 

My face twisted up in confusion as to why he still hadn’t spoken. 

“Are you gonna to speak…”

“Oh. Oh!” He looked back up “Yeah you remember my internship right?”

“Yeah…” I guess he was going to act like I didn’t know about him being Spiderman again.

“So now Mr. Stark is interested in you and wants you to come with me upstate,”

“Why me?” 

“I’m not sure, but if you’re coming someone is outside waiting for us,” 

I’m sure this was just another attempt to lure me into some SHIELD mess. However Peter had no idea about Thorn or any of the other fucked up shit I’d done. So it would look suspicious if I didn’t go. Because what kid or any other person wouldn’t want to meet Tony Stark. 

“Okay then, what are we waiting for?” 

The ride there was completely silent. I spent the whole time texting Carmen as she complained about her boyfriend. I really hated him oh my God. Peter had gone into the building about 15 minutes ago. 

“Okay, if he’s always getting on your nerves and trying to control you why are you still with him?” I asked in the snap meant for Carmen. 

“You know why, I’m not going to say it because then you’d get mad at me,” She sent a video back.

“Thank you I do not want to hear about your boyfriends dick-,” I was interrupted by a knock on the window “Okay I can’t talk got to go,” I sent the video before sliding across the seat pushing the door open. 

“What happened?” I asked as Peter sat back in the car. 

“It was a test,” He said, providing no further elaboration. 

The back window was rolled down and the guy who drove us here. Happy, I think. There is no way that was his real name. He stuck his face in the window. 

“Hey, the boss wants to see you now,” 

I turned back to Peter and whispered.

“The boss? Am I about to walk into some mafia meeting,” 

He just laughed at that. 

“We don’t have much time,” Happy urged. 

As we began walking the halls of the giant building as I pocketed random trinkets that I could sell for a quick buck. 

“So what’s your real name?” I asked Happy since this whole time he was leading me it was a silent ride. 

He continued to ignore me.

So I asked again. I could tell from his body language that I was getting on his nerves. 

I asked twice more and by the time the last sentence came out of my mouth we’d already reached our destination. He walked away not before mumbling a quick I hate kids. 

“Y/N it’s nice to meet you,” Tony greeted as he reached out to shake my hand. I allowed it.

“You’re a lot shorter in person,” I pointed out after releasing his hand. 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He reached for a bowl putting something in his mouth. “Grape?” He offered.

“No thank you,” Not like they’d be poisoned  or anything, no one had even gotten the chance to question me yet. Also there was the fact that he was eating them but this could be a Princess Bride situation. Not taking any chances. 

“Okay,” He clapped, dusting his hands. “Let’s get to the point now,” 

“So I’ve been informed that you had an instance with pyrokinesis,” He continued after I nodded. “I was hoping to research this to get to the bottom of this,”

“So you want to use me as a lab rat?”

“No of course not, the research would be used purely for your personal benefit,” 

For my benefit my ass. They were going to turn me into a lab rat or a soldier.

“Okay I’ll think about it,” Thought about it. A hard hell no.

“If you do choose to do so since you are a minor I’ll need parental consent,” 

“Of course,” I nodded.

There was a pamphlet that I wasn’t going to read. I wasn’t really going to ask for permission. Was I? If I wasn’t then why was I back at ”my” house. 

I just missed my bed, it was messy but it was mine. 

I started sobbing for no reason at all. Maybe it was the old sketchbooks on my bed, or my mom's broken jewelry box. It could’ve been the smell of incense that never left from the lack of ventilation. It was probably the pile of crystals on my dresser. Then again it could’ve been the nazar eye amulet from the broken bracelet on the ground or the hole in the wall where I used to keep my favorite knife. Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was so much more. Maybe it was something different entirely. Maybe it was the colors of the wind. Who knows. 

My eyes stung as my eyeliner dripped down and into them. I blinked the tears away as I went through all my clothes and I mean ALL my clothes. 

I found another bodycon dress. I slipped it on after stuffing a few other articles in my bag. I continued searching to the very back of my closet and I found an old purse. There were at least $50 in the back pocket and in the front pocket there were- Oh. 

There was a small plastic bag with at least 500gs of Xanax. I must’ve left them there after Washington.

 I wasn’t going to take them. I really wasn't; I just put them in the bra. You know for safe keeping. I heard the front door open and made a break for the balcony. 

Although I’d regularly seen my sisters. I still hadn’t seen my dad since I’d left. They’d seen him a couple times though he was fine with the idea of them staying at our grandma’s for who knows how long. He doesn’t care as long as he’s still got that girlfriend of his. I can only imagine what he told her about us not staying with him.

 I jumped down the stairs of the fire escape and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. As something hit my calf. 

I looked down to see it was just Salem climbing up my leg. I lifted her up to my chest nuzzling the top of her head. 

“Hiii baby!” I cooed in a baby voice. 

I now more carefully made my way down the steps so as to not disrupt her. Now I was going to go straight to my grandma’s house to drop off the clothes, but I wanted to go shopping before it got too late.

 I already had no money so I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea but there I was with a $300 charge on my credit card. 

I probably looked insane walking around the mall with a cat in my backpack and black streaks underneath my eyes. 

If you’ve never done this I highly recommend it. Every subway train comes with carts and the last cart is a door with railing and no other restrictions. You can just sneak into the very back. 

The wind hitting your face is the most freeing thing in the world and you can scream as loud as you want and no one will hear you. That fact can be unsettling to some but to me it’s beautiful. 

Releasing your true emotions to no one but you and yourself. I closed my eyes holding onto the railing with one hand and Salem in the other. I put her back into my backpack before sitting down. 

Since the app is addicting, and you can’t tell me it’s not, I opened Tiktok and the first thing I saw is a guy pouring what I hoped wasn’t I thought it was into a bowl. 

So naturally my first reaction was to make a video about it because who doesn’t overshare on the internet. 

“Tell me why,” The track rumbled underneath me, making Salem whine, I picked her up letting her cuddle into my chest. 

“Okay, I have a cat now but-” The track rumbled again “It’s so fucking loud but tell me why I opened this hellfire app and see some dude pouring cum into a bowl, I hate everyone,” 

Within like six minutes of me posting it I had multiple likes and comments. 

The only reason being is that Harry dueted.

 I gotta say being the kid of a mayor and a multimillionaire gives you some form of clout. So he had a pretty heft following.

Harry’s similar to me in the way that we’re mean to our friends. So naturally  we’re ”mean” to each other. 

“You look stupid,” Harry claimed in his video “Also who’s fucking cat did you steal put it back and get in the trains properly and go wash your face,”

I hadn’t even realized I was on my new account at first. 

Of course I made a response video. 

“First of all this is my cat, her name is Salem and she’s adorable” I mean not really but she belongs to no one else, and I feed her. “Second, ignore my eyeliner. I actually think it looks kinda cute,” Lie, It just made me look crazy. “Also how'd you even find this account so fast? Stalker. I’d advise you shut up before I post your phone number then you’d have to ward off groupies. I’m sure you’d like that though.” 

I’m pretty sure the majority of the people in our comments thought we were being serious. So in turn they commented things like I have no idea who you are but I’m on your side, is this gonna be another scandal, or here before the news is talking about it. 

I’m not complaining. His history of scandals got me to 5k followers for the pure assumption that I was involved in some other secret. 

My mind was moving at 100 miles per hour. It felt like I was on a whole bottle of adderall.  I was going somewhere. At least I remember I was supposed to be somewhere. I’m pretty sure my grandma’s house was where I was going. Right?

“No weapon against you shall prosper mija,” My grandma squeezed my hand “You are stronger than you know,”

“I know. Thank you,” 

I’d got here and we had a 30 minute conversation about my mental health without outright saying anything about mental health. It was just mostly her taking shots at my dad. With the exception of her telling me I was dressed like una furcia. 

“Okay well,” I pushed up off the couch “I just came to bring some clothes and I need to get back anyway,” 

“Get back to where, where are staying?” She asked. 

“Oh you remember MJ right?” I lied. 

“Oh yes, I like that lil’ girl,” 

I went into the guest room to where my sisters were staying. I could hear rustling as I got closer to the room. I flicked on the lights. To see both of my sisters asleep. It was only 10:30 so that was highly unlikely.

“I know you’re not sleep it’s just me,” 

They peeled open their eyes, sitting up. 

“I come bearing gifts,” I announced kneeling down next to the bag. 

I placed the bag on the floor carefully so I wouldn’t hurt Salem.

Sapphire squealed when she saw her. 

“You got Salem? I missed her!” 

“Well actually, I just brought clothes,” I dumped them on the bed “Aaliyah come here?” I asked. 

She hopped down from the bed. 

“All of Sapphire’s clothes are over there but I know we’re like the same size so pick what you want,” I told her. 

She took at least half of what I had but I wasn’t complaining because at least she wasn’t going behind my back and taking them. 

“Okay but like am I really allowed to hate my father like cause,” I tried to move only to immediately lose balance “Shit- but like can I even hate my dad if I do the same shit he does, like maybe, maybe it’s like some contractual blood magic shit and I’m just destined to be a shitty person,” I was sending videos to some group chat I didn’t know who was in it because I couldn’t really read the name I just know Harry was the only one responding. 

“I get it being like your parents is scary but you’re not and I won’t let you be like that, now get some sleep please,” Harry reassured. 

“NO! It’s like,” I struggled to get the sentence out “It’s like crazy because before I existed it like someone fucking planted this, like it- it’s a-,” I hit my forehead on each word as if I could physically knock them out. “It’s a seed in my brain and it’s only going to grow as I get older and I’m just gonna be an asshole, it’s fucking happening already and I-“ Carmen came into the living room I flipped the camera onto her “Say hi!” I slurred. 

“Y/N you okay?” She said making her way over to me. I stopped the video and sent it. 

“I’m fine how are you?” 

“I thought you went to bed,” she ignored my question. 

“I did. Then I couldn’t sleep,” I leaned back onto the couch. She crouched down next to me feeling my forehead.

“You have a fever,” She claimed.

“No I don’t! Why does everyone keep saying that?” I whined. 

“Are you high?” She moved closer to my face. 

“No I’m not fucking high,” 

“You’re slurring your words,” She pointed out moving into the kitchen “What’d you take?” 

“What?”

“I said what’d you take,” She going into one of the cabinets “I know you’re not drunk because you don’t smell like alcohol and you don't smell like weed, so I’ll ask you again,” 

“I didn’t take anything, I'm not high!” I explained. 

“It was Benadryl wasn’t it?” She came back into the living room and handed me a glass of water. “You know that stuff kills people,” 

“Yeah I think I of all people would know that,” Truth is I wasn’t lying. I didn’t take anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, maybe sleep deprivation.

“True,” She sat down on the floor next to me “You know how I said I can tell when it’s getting bad,” I nodded. “Well like I was saying before it’s getting bad for you-”

“No it’s not,” I interrupted “I’m literally the happiest I’ve ever been today,” 

“I was getting there,” She held her hands up in an attempt to placate me “That’s just the calm before the storm it’s mania,”

“I’m not manic! Stop trying to psychoanalyze me I’m perfectly fine,” 

I must've woken Salem up because I could hear her footsteps as she paddled over to me and sat in my lap. It’s like she knew when I was getting angry. 

“That’s the thing you’re not fine, just let me know when you’re ready to admit that,” She pushed off the ground using her hands “Try to get some sleep please and thank you,” 

I think it was the weight and warmth of Salem on my chest that finally lulled me to sleep like a weighted blanket. 

“Sapphire!” I yelled to catch her attention “Stop running you’re gonna hurt yourself,” 

She slowed down before making her way back to Aaliyah and the other kids at this birthday party. 

I sat back down on the table’s bench before getting back on my phone. I saw this post one time about how people use technology to distract themselves so they can't have the chance to have a depressive thought. Then I decided to prove that theory wrong so I put my phone up and I thought. 

And boy did I have a lot to think about. The biggest thing on my mind was why. Why did Tony Stark come after me? Why did the guy with the gun come after me? Why did my mom feel the need to make an “Incase I die” video? Why did she have connections to people like Kingpin? Why did she even know Wade? Wasn’t he some science experiment gone wrong? 

Then that got me thinking what if I was a science experiment gone. What if that’s why Tony Stark wanted to experiment on me. What if that was under the orders of someone from SHIELD, because how would he have known about me otherwise. 

Welp, there was only one way to find out. 

“Okay I’m in,” I settled. “What do I have to do?”

“Uh are you sure?” Tony asked.

“Positive,” I affirmed. 

“Well first we would probably do some blood tests and an MRI. Then see where that takes us.” He looked back over at me “Can you do this tomorrow?” 

“Yeah tomorrow works for me,” 

“Great,” He clapped his hands together “I’ll send Happy to pick you up from school,” 

“No it’s fine I can get here myself.” 

“It’s a different location,” He revealed. 

“Okay tell me where it is and I’ll make it there myself,”

“I can’t not even I know where it is,” 

“Fine, I’ll do this, but only if I can bring a friend,” I requested “You know for safety reasons?”

“Safety reasons? Do you not trust me?”

“Not really…” 

“Wow okay, you can bring this friend,” 

“Who doesn’t trust Iron man?'' I heard him mutter to himself as I made my way out of the building. 

I always thought the apocalypse would come in colors. The sky flashing from red to pink to purple to orange. Then there would be a loud sound almost like the Big Bang. Then nothing. I had a vivid imagination when I was younger. 

I guess I was wrong though because it was already here and the sky was as blue as ever.  And the air was as humid as ever in this crusty ass building. 

“I told you already I’m not a soldier you’re gonna have to pay me for this,” I spoke into the comms.

“Shh,” Tony hushed “Just wait for your target.”

Life hadn’t been all that bad. Just for the past two weeks I’d been training with Peter since at the end of the week that I agreed to testing, Spiderman joined in the Avengers officially. Which, good for him I guess. 

Trying to get my brain back on track now. I’d been training with Peter and now we’re going on our first mission. I was not loyal to Tony at all. Nor would I ever be. I’m not calling him Mr. Stark like Peter does either, he doesn’t deserve it. I was trying to look up my mom with the information Felicia gave me and I saw she was listed as level orange in a shield file. Whatever that means.

One thing it meant was I couldn’t back out just yet now.

This would be one deep inside job.

“Peter?” I whispered into the comms

“Hello?” He asked.

“Where are you?” 

“I’m guarding the entrance like I was told too?” He asked more than stated. 

“Well, come here,” 

“But Mr. Stark said-“ 

“I don’t care what Mr. Stark said come here,” I interjected without even thinking about the fact he could’ve been listening in somehow. 

“Yes?” He questioned once he was standing in front of me.

“Take my role for a second,” I pulled my gun out the holster “You know how to use a gun right?”

I thought back to the last time we’d actually fought as our alter egos. Except then he didn’t know it was me and he still doesn’t. He definitely didn’t know how to use a gun then let’s just hope he did now. 

“You know what, I don’t have time just take it,” I placed the gun in his palm before speeding off.

“Wait!” He called out “Aren’t you defenseless now?” 

“I’ll be fine baby boy,” I called back.

I made my way into the farthest depths of the warehouse. I’d been here once before. That was before I knew Felicia and we’d gotten into a scuffle about a diamond. Let’s just say I was young and I went home bruised that day. 

Apparently I was under the impression she had it and she was under the impression I had it this whole time. So maybe. Just maybe it was still there. It was somewhere in the back last time I checked.

 There it was. I grabbed it and recoiled when I heard a voice accompanied by the sharp zap in my body. 

“Looking for something?” They asked. I turned around only to be faced with a large burly almost Frankenstein looking man. 

“Oh yeah I was looking for you actually, you just made my job a lot easier,” 

As if my words were a signal for him. They probably were. He lunged forward towards me with his left side fully open. I evaded and left a sharp kick to his side. 

He wailed out in pain before slinging me backward as I tried to reach for the diamond off the floor. 

I skidded across the floor before hopping back to my feet. 

“I found the guy,” I spoke into the comms.

“Who are you talking to?” The target teased. 

“Your mom,” I taunted. 

“Hey!” He cried. 

“Where are you?” I heard Peter ask I didn’t get a chance to answer because the man swung at me again. 

That hit made contact with my shoulder. He continued to swing and I continued to walk backwards. I realized almost too late that I was backing myself into a corner.

I’m not sure where or who I heard this from maybe Wade but sometimes the only point your opponent has his guard down is mid punch.

 I scrambled for my knife, fingers dancing around the holster on my waist as my feet continued to slide along the pavement underneath me. Just as the man swung at me again I sent my knife towards his torso. Except it didn’t make contact. And I had never missed before, especially not from this close. 

I was confused until I realized it was because I heard that all familiar wet sticky sound of Spider-Man’s web shooters except this time I was glad to hear it. 

Peter webbed the man's arms and mouth all while my fingers went lax in shock for only a moment but one moment too long. 

The knife clattered to the ground making a noise that drew Peter’s attention. I tried to swipe it away with my foot but Peter had already grabbed it. 

“This is Thorns knife,” He spoke calmly and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or if it was for himself.

“And how would you have Thorns knife unless you were,” I saw his eyes light up as he made the connection. “Wait, you’re Thorn, holy shit, I’m so stupid how’d I not notice before,”

“Peter seriously you can’t tell anyone,” 

He looked up as if he were just noticing I was still there. 

“Don’t worry I won’t be saying anything at all,” 

Yeah, this was definitely the apocalypse because I don’t know if it was just me but life was ending.

Another silent ride and I realized exactly what he’d meant when he said he wouldn’t say anything. He was giving me the silent treatment. 

Which was odd because usually he talks the most on these rides. After we got over the initial awkwardness of the whole fire and Vulture thing we fell back into the way of things. Well if he was going to play this game I would too because what’s that saying? It takes two to tango. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[minuteminx]

Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Two: Quincy

Chapter Summary:  History is different when it plays out before one's eyes.

[First Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

“What is to give light must endure burning.” ― Victor Frankl

Quincy, September 2287

An early autumn sunset fell over the splintered buildings and raised walkways that surrounded the tattered homes and market stalls known as the Quincy Settlement.  Preston wondered if the sky had always looked like that, or whether the hazy pinks and oranges were yet another lingering effect of the nuclear fallout that had destroyed the Commonwealth some two-hundred years earlier.  Even if that was the case,  it was comforting to think that the end of the world hadn’t been quite enough to darken the Sun.

To call Quincy “the most prosperous settlement in the southeast” was doing it a big favor.  That its settlers had managed to survive in the harsh, swampy land rife with ‘lurks and ferals long enough to establish sound supply lines with Diamond City and Bunker hill was impressive, but Quincy itself was no thriving center of life.  It was just the only place where humanity had managed to establish itself in the region, and as such, it was a big target for raiders and mercs of all sorts, who sought to claim it for themselves.

Preston traveled to the settlement with Colonel Hollis and a small contingent of Minutemen in response to a distress call from the mayor.   Apparently a batty, old jet-head had some sort of vision that Gunners, a ruthless pack of cult-like murderers, were plotting to seize Quincy.  It was a stretch, in his honest opinion.  He’d never been the religious type, and he definitely didn’t believe in psychic visions.  It was just a coincidence that the militia had to drive back a small band of the mercenaries less than a day after their arrival. Many of the attackers fled when they were met with resistance; however, a young boy had been shot in the leg.  Last Preston heard, he still hadn’t recovered.

He finished driving a nail into the latest of many wooden boards he’d been using to fortify the settlement walls and stepped back to examine his work, dropping the hammer to the ground by his feet.  It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing at all.  Besides, there wasn’t much else he was qualified to do.  He’d never been any good with technology, so wasn’t any help to that mechanic, Sturges, nor was he important enough to sit and strategize with Colonel Hollis, Lieutenant Colonel Richards, and Mayor Jackson.

As far as Preston and anyone else was concerned, the only job he really had left was to walk around with a gun in his hand and wait for reinforcements. Not that he believed reinforcements would actually arrive.  Ever since General Becker died, the Minutemen hadn’t been known for being reliable, timely, or helpful.  It almost seemed hypocritical to use the name of an historical group named for being ready to help at a minute’s notice.

“Hey Preston,” chimed a familiar voice, snapping him out of the gloom and doom.  He looked up in time to watch Millie jump down from the walkway just above his head.  She frowned when she saw his face. “Oof.”

“You really need to be more careful,” he remarked as she put her hands on her hips.

“And you need to stop sulking,” she retorted, and handed him a container of purified water “You know, I had no idea when my dad recruited you all those years ago that you’d grow up to be my mother. ”

Preston offered her a shrug as he took a long swig of the water.  Amelia Hollis was the daughter, and only child of Colonel Ezra Hollis.  A handful of years older than Preston, Millie’d been his unofficial mentor since he’d joined up with the Minutemen at seventeen, lost, alone, and hoping to turn his tragedies into something meaningful.  Over the years, she had become his closest friend and constant shoulder to lean on, even after she and Richards coupled up. Part of him had always wondered if his feelings for her were mutual.  Turned out they were just friends after all.

“The walls are looking good,” said Millie, tilting her head and looking at his work.

“I did my best,” he replied, laughing and shaking his head, “Not sure what a bunch of old wood’ll do against laser rifles besides catch fire.”

“Better for it to catch fire than us.”

“That’s true.” Preston frowned and surveyed his surroundings as if reinforcements and an armory full of ammunition would miraculously pop up from the rubble.  He flinched when Millie grabbed his shoulders and squared him up to face her, eyebrows stern.

“We have done everything we can, Preston,” she insisted, grip tightening, “You’ve done everything you can.”

“It’s not enough.”  He shook his head and pulled away from her, attempting to walk past her.  “These people are counting on us, and all we’ve managed to do so far is get a kid shot.”

Millie blocked his path and crossed her arms.  “At least we showed up!  Listen, I know you’ve got these big ideas about what the Minutemen are supposed to be about.  You always have.  But it’s not the reality.  Sometimes all the good guys can do is show up.”

“And that’s just… okay with you?  Just showing up?”  His voice shook, but he refused to raise it.

“No.  ‘Course not,” she huffed and shifted her weight from one leg to another, “Look, the old man said he got a radio message from some guy.  Clint, he said.  Apparently they ran together when Becker was still alive.  Anyway, he’s coming with some of his people to help us out.”

“Didn’t Clint leave the Minutemen after Joe Becker died?”  Preston narrowed his eyes.  He’d heard rumors about Clint, none of them good.

“Dad thought so, too, but he’s offering help and we’re not exactly in a place to turn him down.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed, “Look, I’m sorry for being so pessimistic, it’s just…”

“I know you’re taking what happened to that Long boy personally,” Millie stated matter-of-factly, “But that ain’t your fault and you know it.”

Preston had a hard time convincing himself that he wasn’t responsible for Kyle Long’s injuries.  He had been so caught up with fortifications, he hadn’t noticed the boy following him around toting an old broom handle like it was a laser musket.  Gunners attacked before he could even tell him to run to safety.  Damned snipers had gotten up onto the walkway.  Several other members of the militia dealt with them while Preston Carried Kyle to safety, but the boy had already lost consciousness and a lot of blood.  Marcy’s desperate screams and curses still rang in his ears.  He deserved them all, no matter how many times Millie told him he didn’t.

“I failed to protect him,” he snapped, “And unlike you, I don’t think that showing up is good enough.  So, yeah.  It’s my fault.”

“Christ.”  She threw her hands up in surrender.  “I was just trying to help.”

“I know,” he said, and then paused, a brief, heavy silence hanging in the air between them before he pointed to the pharmacy with his thumb, “I’m going to go check on him.”

Millie nodded, and he turned to walk away, but she called after him.  “Hey… Preston?”

“Hmm?”  He looked back at her over his shoulder.

“Are we… good?”

He softened at the question and smiled.  After all, it wasn’t her he was mad at.  “Yeah.  We’re good.”

The Longs’ home was situated just above the pharmacy, which they owned and operated.  Preston could already hear shuffling footsteps and Marcy’s muffled, angry voice as he stepped inside, stomach twisted to hell  at the thought of facing her again.  He knew he needed to, that it was the right thing to do, but damn it if he didn’t want to avoid the painful conversation at all costs.  Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the back of the store and up the rickety wooden stairs and knocked on the locked door to their room.

“Who is it,” snapped Marcy.

Preston flinched.  He wasn’t used to people taking that kind of tone with him.  People usually liked him, and he didn’t immediately know how to react.  “It’s Preston, ma’am,” he said, sticking to his M.O.

“Great,” she replied emphatically, and with sarcasm that wasn’t lost on him, “Just who we wanted to see.  What do you want?”

“I came to check on Kyle.  I can come back later if—” He was interrupted by the door swinging open, nearly smacking him in the face.

Marcy stared him down, scowling from head to toe. Her eyes were red and swollen. “Well, come in.”

He nodded and walked inside, taking his hat off as he did so.  When he was just a boy, his dad taught him that it was disrespectful to enter someone’s home with a hat on; however, the gesture was wasted on Mrs. Long, who had not even seemed to notice.  She directed him around the corner of a divider that separated Kyle’s room from his parents’. The boy lay in bed, pale and breathing shallowly.  Jun sat beside his son’s bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands, hair dirty and disheveled.  Preston cleared his throat, hoping to not startle the man.

Jun snapped his head up at the noise, a sad smile twitching on his lips.  “I’m glad you stopped by.”

“Really?”  The disbelief slipped out before he could stop it. “I just, well, I figured—”

“He’s been asking to see you,” Marcy explained, tone softening as she moved to sit on the edge of Kyle’s bed, nudging him gently.  “Sweetheart, wake up.  There’s someone here to see you.”

Kyle stirred, grunting as his eyes flickered open, first glancing between his parents then up at Preston.  A wide grin stretched across his face and he rose up to his elbows as best he could.  “Mr. Garvey!”

“Hey buddy,” Preston said, smiling back at him and kneeling beside the bed, “How are you feeling?”

The boy pointed to his injured leg and whimpered, “It hurts.”

Guilt and rage churned in Preston’s chest.  From the stain of blood that seeped through Kyle’s sheets, and his lack of color, he was far from being out of the woods.  It was not a good state to be in with an expected Gunner ambush.  Even if he survived an evacuation from the settlement, it wasn’t clear he’d be able to keep his leg.

“I know,” Preston managed, “I’m sorry.”

“Daddy says you’re gonna keep us safe from the bad guys if they come back!”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he answered, ignoring Marcy’s unimpressed scoff in the background.

Before the conversation could continue, commotion had stirred outside, first the loud metallic creaking of a gate being opened, frantic shouting, then a gunshot.  Marcy and Jun jumped at the noise, looked at each other, then to Kyle, then to Preston, eyes searching for directions.

“Stay here,” he directed them as calmly as he could, returning his hat to his head before rushing downstairs and out into the street.

At the gate, several Minutemen had gathered, weapons ready and aimed at a line of Gunners.  In the center stood a tall, burly man with an ugly mustache and hyper-reflective sunglasses.  A body lay on the ground at his feet—Mayor Jackson’s body, from the looks of it— and he held the colonel at gunpoint, laser pistol to the temple.  Millie fought against Richards’ arms, screaming as he held her back and out of harm's way.  Snipers once again lined the roofs and walkways as more Gunners poured in from all directions.  How in the hell had the Gunners managed to catch everyone off guard with such a huge contingent?

“Clint,” Hollis shouted, “You dirty, backstabbing son-of-a-bitch.  I should have known better than to think you’d actually help us.”

Clint, once an esteemed militia veteran, now a murderer. A traitor.  Preston’s blood boiled, sweaty palms tightening around his musket.  No one had seen him yet.  He could shoot, he thought,  just once before the mercs lining the walls would fire on the other Minutemen and innocent settlers alike.  Even if Preston managed to kill Clint with that one shot, it would be a bloodbath.

“You never were too bright Ezra, always letting that bleeding heart of yours get in the way,” he said,  finger moving up just slightly to hover over the trigger, “Should have put you out of your misery a long time ago”

“Dad,” Millie cried, breaking away from Richards, and rushing forward. “ Clint, you don’t have to do this.”

“No, sweetheart,” the man replied, despicable lilt in his voice, “I don’t, but where’s the fun in that?”

A gunshot rang out, a loud, searing blast of energy that caused Preston to flinch away, and he allowed himself to hope it had just been a warning.   But Clint didn’t exactly seem like the generous, warning shot-offering type of guy.  No, he and his whole crew were cruel and bloodthirsty, and Preston had just heard someone die.  He hadn’t been prepared for it to be Millie, who he saw fall to the ground just as he forced his eyes open.  The Lieutenant-Colonel cried out and attempted to rush to her, to catch her, but was met with a laser blast directly to the chest instead, collapsing in the dirt.  Panic pounded in his ears so loudly he didn’t even hear the shot that killed Hollis, and time stood still.  The settlement fell completely silent, no noise at all but the crunch of Clint’s boasting footsteps as he and his men advanced further into town.  

“Any more of you pathetic maggots want to take your chances?”  It was less of a question and more of false promise that anyone could survive.  If the people stood their ground, they’d be shot in the chest.  If they ran, they’d be shot in the back.  Some kind of options those were.  

Without anyone to give orders, without a prayer, the remainder of the militia and settlers scrambled, caged animals trying to escape the slaughter, Gunners stalking after them.  Preston stood numbly, watching the chaos from the pharmacy doorway.  He wanted to charge into the fray and take out every Gunner bastard he could before the snipers got him, go down with the sinking ship that was the Commonwealth Minutemen.  As useless as he was to anyone alive, he figured he’d be even more useless if he died.  After all, he’d given Kyle his word that he’d protect him and his family, and that’s what he intended to do.

As he turned to re-enter the pharmacy, he caught a glimpse of two crouching forms clinging to the shadows of the building next door. Sturges, rusty pipe pistol in hand, used his body to shield Mama Murphy  from any potential gunfire aimed at them.  Preston shouted at the mechanic, just loud enough to get his attention, and motioned for him and the old woman to get inside.  Relief washed over Sturges’ face, and he nodded, looked around to make sure they could make a clean break, and rushed past Preston and through the door.

“Shit fire,” Sturges exclaimed, more to himself than anyone else..  

“I told you he’d save us, Sturg,” Mama remarked wistfully, high as a goddamn kite, “I saw it.”

“I know.  I heard you all twenty times you said it before, Mama,” he answered, words clipped but not unkind.  He glanced up at Preston.  “Doped up prophecy or not, I’m sure glad we ran into you, man.  Got a plan?”

A plan.  Were things not so dire, Preston might have laughed.  He couldn’t even put together a single thought, let alone a plan that wasn’t “run” or “don’t die.” He shook his head. Stay here.  I’m going to head upstairs, get the Longs, and then we’re all going to get the heck out of Dodge.”

“What about the others,” Sturges asked, “Everyone’s trying to hightail it.”

“We’ll grab whoever we find on the way,” he answered somberly, “That’s all we can do right now.”

“Sounds good, boss.”

Preston shook off Sturges’ suggestion that he had any sort of authority or leadership over anyone.  He was trained and better equipped to fight than the others, sure, but he was no more in control of the situation than anyone else, no less scared.  He rushed upstairs to where he’d left the Longs just minutes before.  They’d left the door open, and Marcy and Jun jumped up from their seats at Kyle’s bedside as they heard him enter.

“What’s going on,” Marcy asked, desperation in her voice, “It sounds bad out there?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Preston insisted, keeping his voice as low and calm as possible, “I’m really sorry, but we have to go.  Now.”

“But—” Jun said looking back at Kyle who’d lost consciousness again, “It won’t be safe to move him.”  

“Safer than staying here and getting killed by those bastards outside,” Marcy argued, lifting her son up into her arms and then turning to face Preston. “Thank you for coming back to get us.”

Preston smiled, eyes lingering on Kyle’s face, peaceful despite all of the chaos around them. “It’s what I’m here for.”

[ja-baby]

Oooo, drabble about baby Klav/childhood? 👀 (super late don’t mind me RIP)

"What are you doing?" 

Klavier startles, the bottle in his hand slipping from his grasp. It crashes onto the floor with a loud shatter, shards sliding across the tiles as if it were ice. He steps in front of it shakily, hoping to hide the evidence with hands behind his back. Futile, of course, when said evidence is scattered everywhere. Like this, he looks like a child caught in the cookie jar. Which isn't too far off. He is a kid, after all. It just wasn't cookies he was messing with. 

The previously hand shaped nail polish now sits in pieces. With its demise comes a deafening silence, only broken by Klavier's nervous breathing. He's too scared to look up. Too terrified to face the scolding he knows he'll get for this transgression. He knows he has to though, so cautiously, he raises his gaze from his shoes to his brother. 

Even in youth, Kristoph has an intimidating air about him. That aura only grows in situations like this. When Klavier is caught doing something he shouldn't. He just wishes this was one of the things he'd gotten away with. He isn't sure whether or not he should be grateful that Kristoph isn't looking at him. However, when Gavin realizes that his eyes are on the transparent pieces, he decides he's unlucky. 

Kristoph's gaze travels from the shards, to Klavier's hidden hands, then finally to his bedroom desk -- where his spot for his nail polish is decidedly empty. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. As it dawns on him, Klavier can see the start of anger tense his shoulders and glint his glasses. 

"You...! What have you-...!"

Klavier flinches. The sentence is cut short, yet it still holds frothing fury. Enough to set Klavier's heart into a tempo too fast to be healthy. He can hear Kristoph inhale. See the bob of his adam's apple as he reels in his annoyance. He's restraining himself. He always is. He has to when the pressure of being the golden child is on his shoulders. 

Approaching steps add to the broken symphony of Gavin's hitched inhales, eventually stopping right in front of him. Kristoph doesn't say a word as he puts a hand on the five year old's shoulder, moving him aside with a grip that's fighting to be gentle, but too tight to be pleasant. That alone has Klavier's breaths dissolving into whimpers. 

He watches anxiously as Kristoph looks at the scene before him. Polish is dying the floor and threatening his desk rug. Even if Klavier had somehow managed to hide all these pieces behind his little form, he'd never be able to get rid of this incriminating evidence. However, Kristoph didn't stop there. Because his brother is someone who made sure to collect all the proof to back his case. It's one of the things Klavier admired him for. Right now though, he disliked that part of him. He isn't surprised when Kristoph crouches in front of him, grasping Gavin's hands and coaxing them from their hiding place. 

Neither of them were shocked to see gloss on Klavier's fingers. 

"....You touched my nail polish...."

A statement. Not a question. 

Klavier immediately bursts into tears. 

His hands tremble in Kristoph's grip as he wails. One hand pulls away to rub at puffing eyes, words a blubbering mess as he tries to explain himself. 

"I-It was an a-accident!!", A hiccup. His breaths keep hitching, unable to obtain the oxygen he desires in between cries and wobbly sentences. "I d-didn’t mean to! I didn't mean to break it! I...I just wanted to...I-I wanted to be...!!"

'Like you' goes unsaid. He can't get much else out. The knot in his throat saw to that. So he sobs instead, shoulders shaking from the force of it all. Kristoph scans his growingly wet face with dimming anger. His eyes lose their fire, his shoulders loosen, and eventually...he heaves a sigh. Cautiously, so Klavier doesn't assume the worst, he pulls the younger to him. In this position, his face is pressed into Kristoph's chest. One arm is loosely wrapped around him while the other sits on his head. He can feel his brother softly pat his hair, fingers threading through yellow strands.

"It was an accident. It's not your fault, so stop crying", Kristoph sounds exasperated, sure, but not mad. There doesn't seem to be any malice hidden within his tones. 

Despite this, Klavier's guilt isn't eased. He knows how much his brother adored that bottle. Ever since their parents had gifted it to him, he held it quite close. Not even when the polish ran out did he throw it away. Klavier knew, because he'd always peak in and see him cleaning the inside, before carefully refilling it with whatever color he desired. Their parents had said it was a good luck charm. Klavier had wondered, in his childlike curiosity, if this was one of the many secrets to his brother's coolness. So pretty soon he'd done what kids do, and snuck in to sloppily put some on his own nails. Maybe then some of that luck would brush off on him and he'd be just like Kristoph. Apparently not. Kristoph certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to drop such a fragile bottle. 

He tries to voice the argument that this was, in fact, his fault. If he'd never been messing with Kristoph's stuff, this would have never happened. Yet the words can't find their way out, except for maybe some strange mewls and unrecognizable vowels. The older simply rubs circles in his back in response. 

They sit like that for a while, with Klavier boohooing and Kristoph muttering the occasional reassurance. He's snotting up his brother's nice outfit, he knows. The pretty one that he wears when he practices piano. Nevertheless, he can't bring himself to stop. So he continues, wetting the warmth of his chest with mucus and tears. Eventually though, like all things, his cries come to an end. He quiets into worn out breaths, clutching Kristoph like his life depended on it. 

"Sorry....m'sorry...."

He feels arms curl under him in a silent answer. Gently, he's shuffled into slim arms, relocated onto Kristoph's lap. The 13 year old has chosen to give his previously crouched and currently numbing legs a break, sitting at his desk where it all happened. There's still glass beneath them, glistening side by side with heavy scented polish. In spite of its danger, it's ignored in favor of tending to little Klav. Kristoph pulls a tissue from his box and holds it to the youngster's nose. 

"Blow", he says simply, and Klavier does. 

Only when his boogers are removed and his face is cleaned does Kristoph get up. Klavier is left to sit as his brother cleans up his mess. Shards are carefully swept, and liquid mopped. By the time he's done, it's almost as if the incident never happened. Except for maybe the new stain on his rug, and the lack of a bottle. When Kristoph returns, Klavier is lifted back onto his lap. One arm wraps around to keep him in place, while the other pushes into his desk drawer. With a little digging, he manages to pull out a different bottle. It isn't nearly as fancy as the hand shaped one, plainly round and wide. But nail polish is nail polish, that thought only confirmed when his nose is met with the familiar scent of solvent. Klavier looks up at his sibling with questions in his eyes. Kristoph just dips the brush in liquid purple. 

"Put your hands on the table, and stay still"

Klavier's gaze shines bright with excitement. 

So there they sit, Kristoph painting small nails with ease. Klavier watches delightedly all the while, completely engrossed with the simple motion of small strokes. The sight and quiet is relaxing. So steadily, as each finger is given color, his eyes grow heavy. The exhaustion of a good cry finally weighs down on him. Kristoph can sense it, too. In the way his breathing slows, and how his body leans on the pianist. He doesn't stop painting, even when he feels the preschooler's head lull back onto his chest. Soft snores are his new companion as he finishes the job. 

And once the less impressive bottle is put away, and Klavier's nails are dry enough to be moved -- Kristoph places a small kiss onto his brother's head and carries him to bed.

______

Send me something to drabble about

[getuponthehydrasback]

Fragmentary Memories: Fanfic Preview

This is still a work in progress but I promised yall a rewrite with all of my head canons and its  HAPPENING. Gotta love me my Trans! Sora The fic, pairing is SoRikai, with moments of every combination! PS This fic also includes REAL TECHNIQUES FOR DEALING WITH PTSD and Panic attacks 

Tap Tap Tap the distant sound of rock against glass persisted againstthe calm sound of rain outside of the small room. On the bed sat a petite feminine figure of a person, crouched in a corner, their back pressed against the walls of their room, and their gaze fixed upon a tan paper, ink etched into its surface. It had become a nightly routine for the ‘girl’ to jot down her thoughts; it helped with the nightmares. On pages she could map out her deepest fears, that which were inarticulable to even those she held dear. The emotions that still ruminated in her soul, and weren’t yet ready to make themselves known. It was a practice she found to be almost sacred in that aside from being the arms (or sometimes plopped down ontop of or in between) of her two dearest people, eased the ever growing fear that nestled in her heart. Though this practice was sacred, she found herself snapped out of the moment by in incessant tapping.

“What on earth is that sound” she exclaimed as she pushed the curtains aside only to see a water drenched boy standing a story below, looking up solemnly at her. “Sora! What the hell are you doing out in the rain, you’ll freeze to death!” She exclaimed as she quickly opened her window.

“I know…it’s stupid but please …” he didn’t have to finish his sentence, Kairi saw the desperation in Sora’s eyes a look she hadn’t seen since the night that changed all of their lives. Without hesitation Kairi held her hand out to him knowing he could make the jump up into her window without rousing the attention of her sleeping grandmother a few doors down.

Sora backed up and ran towards the side of the house, skillfully using the leverage to jump up and grasp Kairi’s hand. Within a few moments he stood, soaked in the middle of her bedroom. “Thank you” he whispered softly, his voice husk and devoid of its usual playfulness. Kairi could make out the puffiness and faint red tint in his eyes and faint salt streaks along his cheeks almost washed away by the rain. Without saying a word Kairi reached out, clasping her hand in his giving him a gentle affirming squeeze. She didn’t have to know what happened or what was wrong, she only knew that whatever it was, it had shaken him to his core.

“Of course, is there anything you need right now, you’re soaked let me get you something to change into”. Kairi offered as she turned to go to her dresser. The suggestion sent a wave of nausea to the boys stomach and itch under his skin in protest; however all he could externalize was a faint defiant tug at her hand.

Drawing her attention back towards him Kairi tilted her head in confusion. Sora’s expression had quickly changed. There was a quick flash of fear, and storminess in his eyes, sending a wave of concern throughout her. Though she began to become increasingly worried about what could have possibly caused such a reaction out of him, she knew that remaining calm would be the best way help her friend. “No worries” she said softly, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Sora’s grip on her hand seemed to tighten at that statement as he averted his gaze. His body was tense, his breathing beginning to become increasingly shallow, as echos and images flashed in his mind.

We’ve had enough of this. You disappear for god knows how long doing god-knows what and you expect us to be okay with it? You’re delusional. You don’t know what youre walking about all of that stress has gotten to your head!

The voices and images of his parent’s anger continued to resonate over and over. His precious belongings, gone, his clothes gone everything. He couldn’t stop the recent memories, they replayed on repeat until he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand again, tethering him to the reality before him. Bringing him back into his body. His gaze darted around the room, taking in their surroundings.

“You’re safe” Kairi whispered softly as to not startle him.

“Sorry” he managed to choke out, worriedly “Sorry…sorry sorry” his words seemed more like expressions to himself, or an invisible other rather than to his friend as he repeated the words.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset, you’re safe…I will stay here with you as long as you need” she responded quietly. “Is it okay to hug you?” she asked to which Sora’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head.

“Sorry” he replied again, his breathing growing more erratic.

“It’s okay, do you want to try some grounding exercises?” she asked, knowing that Sora’s condition would most likely escalate if he wasn’t able to ground himself soon.

Sora thought for a moment, or rather attempted to gather his scattered fragments of thoughts before slowly shaking his head.

“Okay, what’s five things you can see?” Kairi asked quietly, as she gently ran her thumb along the back of Sora’s hand in a soothing pattern.

Sora couldn’t formulate words but merely pointed to a few items in the room, each item slowly drawing his focus back from the fear ridden fog it had been in. He looked around, noticing the dimly lit lights, he pointed to the note book perched upon Kairi’s pale pink cotton sheets, the Crayon drawings of their adventures hanging on Kairi’s wall, the way Kairi’s face though relaxed, still showed concern in the faint furrow of her brow, the pale pink color of her nails as they brushed against his hand. Sora could only point at the things as Kairi gently urged him on.

“Good, what’s four things you can hear?” she asked again.

Sora closed his eyes for a moment taking in the sound of the rain pounding against the window, the sound of his own slowly stabilizing breathing, his occasional coughs and sniffles, the buzz of the heater, and the calming sound of Kairi’s steady breath. For each thing he heard he managed to choke out a single word indication.

“That’s excellent” she gave his hand another gentle squeeze “What’s three things you can feel?”

Sora thought for a moment, he could feel the gentle caress of Kairi’s fingers stroking his hand, their consistent motion soothing his racing thoughts. He could feel the fuzziness of carpet beneath his feet, as he’d ran over barefoot, and he could feel the cling of his damp clothes against his skin, and the tight nylon fabric of a binder pressed against his chest.

“I-I think…I’m okay…” he managed to respond, as he gave Kairi’s hand a gentle squeeze.

They stood just like that for a few moments in silence, as Sora gathered his thoughts, his breathing had stabilized and his incoherent memories began to solidify. After a few minutes he finally uttered.

“They threw out everything…they hate me…they’re…they’re going to disown me.” His voice cracked at the statement as tears began to fill his eyes. “Everything! All of my clothes, all of my belongings anything they thought was too boyish my parents through out! They screamed at me!”

Kairi felt a wave of anger course through body at Sora’s distress, at the way his usual happy kind eyes seemed so defeated, and broken. She clutched her free hand in a fist, trying to swallow her anger to be fully present for Sora but she couldn’t.

“Listen to me, they’re wrong. They are so incredibly wrong, whatever they think whatever they say, they’re wrong for treating you like that you hear me Sora?” She placed her hands gently on Sora’s cheeks to direct his gaze to her.

He stared back at her, eyes wide with tears. “You’re one of the strongest, kindest, loveliest boys I know, and if they can’t see that, if they can’t see all the things their sonhas done then theyaren’t worthy of you. You’re the boy who saved the universe for crying out loud. And they’re mad because what? They got your gender wrong? I’ll fight both of them goddamit.” Kairi tried her best to manage her anger.

Kairi’s words broke the floodgate Sora had been suppressing in his whirlwind panic. Relief, fear, sadness, hatred, visceral pain all bubbled their way to the surface as Sora reached towards Kairi, burying his face into the crook of her neck in a half attempt to muffle his sobs. Taking Sora’s lead on physical contact, Kairi wrapped her arms around him, gently placing the flat of her hand on his back, and gently rubbed circles into the damp fabric.  They stayed like that for a few moments, Kairi’s arms firm around him as he fell apart.

Kairi had always known Sora’s parents did not approve of who he really was even before their journey across worlds, but she never imagined they’d do something as drastic as disown him. During their time on the islands when they were younger, Sora always passed himself off as a tomboy much to his parent’s disapproval. But spending so many years away from them, meeting new people, new places, had allowed Sora the freedom to be himself. No one questioned, no one knew, except her and Riku. Sora had grown into the young man he was always meant to be, and yet, his parents could not see him for who he really was. The thought angered Kairi, the pain they caused him sent her into a rage, but more important than her rage was her ability to comfort her dear friend. She continued to simply breathe deeply and rub soothing circles into the boys back.

After nearly twenty minutes, Sora had cried himself dry. All that he could make out were faint whimpers and sniffles. He’d tired himself out emotionally, his head throbbed and his eyes were puffy and red, contrasting against the electric blue of his irises. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble…I should probably head back” he managed to whimper out.

“Heck no” Kairi responded adamantly “you’re staying here tonight, or going over Riku’s but no way are you going back to that hell house. You’re no trouble at all I’m glad you came here, and that you’re safe. I will always be there for you Sora, you know that” she gently cupped his cheek with a soft smile.

Sora glanced up at her, his gaze meeting hers for a moment. Her tender smile sending an ache in his chest, the contrast of her kindness against a growing wound he carried, her warmth contrasted against his own. He hadn’t quite realized how warm she was. In their years a part, the quiet girl, had grown to become a kind warm protector. The tenderness of her touch and the gentleness of her smile enveloped him in a sense of safety. Content with her offer he simply nodded and snaked his arms around her in a grateful squeeze.

“I can even call Riku if you want, and make it a sleep over.” She suggested as she began to shift around looking for her phone. “Though god I don’t know what would stop him from not storming over to your house and fighting your parents on sight if he finds out.” She said with a slight chuckle to lighten the mood as she began to step away to grab her phone. However her actions were stopped by Sora tugging her back closer.

“In…in a moment…” he responded softly, not wanting to lose the warmth surrounding him. He felt far to tender and exposed to break the moment.

Kairi let out a surprised huff, before settling back into him, wrapping her arms around him again. Sora in response nuzzled into her and closed his eyes.  

Pt 2

[slothgiirl]

FOREVER ISN’T FOR EVERYONE (IS FOREVER FOR YOU?) part 2

Lucy and I are up before the sun. I've called a cab and manage to grab a banana from the complementary breakfast. Most of the team's still asleep.

 "Fucking techies," Ben mutters, rubbing at his eyes from behind his sunnies, "get to sleep while I do all the work.” He'd stayed out with the rest of the band all night. Who knows they'd gotten back in. And now we had actual work to do. 

"Just you," Lucy replies archly.

"You two weren't out until three in the morning. At least I got a nice shag out of the whole thing."

"TMI Ben!" It's too early for this. But the whole city is too beautiful too miss. New Zealand. I have too at least make it to the beach once during these few days we have here before heading to Auckland. Maybe even make it to hobbit town. 

"It's true. I hate dealing with the business side. I just signed on to party and travel."  

"Where did you guys even go?”

"A bunch of bars. Got some late night eats." He shrugs, looking way too relaxed in jeans and a t shirt. But maybe I was the one out of place in slacks and a silk cami. I just couldn't get my head around doing business in jeans. "You should've come with us Ellie. We missed you last night."

"I prefer not feeling like shit two days in a row actually."

Lucy snorts, "oh you're perfect. You'll do great out here with us."

There's complimentary coffee and I make sure to pour as much creamer as I can into the cup. Ben and the venue manager talk, go over some last minute papers. He passes them to me and I read them and nod, passing them back. They're the same as I have in my files. 

Ben signs off and then they're joking and bantering and I want to stab my eye out. Lucy's gone to go over the press list and signing off on the state of backstage. It's not a huge venue. Nothing like the O2 back home. But the size does give everyone a better look at the stage, probably without selling a kidney for it. 

We're done, having taken longer than we planned. We have to race back to meet up with band to do press. Fuck. Our taxi gets caught up in traffic. 

"How's there even enough cars for there to be traffic," Lucy complains. She doesn't trust the band to speak without her there to do damage control. 

"Fuck it. We're just meeting them at the radio station. Then we can head to hotel and do the rest of the day's press in there." He sends a text. "Can you send a taxi for them Ellie?"

"Got it." At some point I've got to get lunch. A banana and coffee isn't enough to hold me over. 

We barely make it in time and I run off to get them all breakfast while they do their radio interview for the morning. Without specifics I'm left with a bit of time to wander about and find someplace to eat. 

The air feels fresher. Everything has a rose colored cast from it's newness to me. Even I feel lighter without the weight of being known here. Like I could change and be the person I wanted to away from home. In this new place. 

There's a restaurant a street over and the coziness amid the skyscrapers catch my eye. It's homey and welcoming and it smells amazing. I order a couple of their breakfast specials and lunch sandwiches, taking one for myself as the kitchen preps the rest. 

"Large family," the waitress asks. 

I shake my head, "for work actually. I went to school for years to be a glorified assistant." It's funny. I did. But this job, it felt right, even now. 

"That's what my son keeps telling me." 

The foods great. I sip at some tea and wait to be called back. Content to use to wifi. After we get back to the hotel, where some of the crew are setting up for the press, and with the help of the first interviewers of the day, I'll finally have some free time. 

Go walk about the beach. Oriental bay is supposed to be beautiful. And close by. 

Ben texts me and I met up with them at the curb, carrying a large bag of takeout, "It's good," I promise. 

"You ate without us," Miles accuses, all boyish naughtiness, clad in a wife beater and trackies. 

"Down old boy," Lucy says, slapping his chest. Nick laughs, taking a box eagerly as Ben hails us a cab, of which there are plenty in this part of the city. 

"Do we really have press all day," Jaime groans. 

"Bet you didn't think of that when you wanted more people to hear you play," Ben notes with a mouthful of sandwich. 

Miles shimmies, features twisted in delightful amusement, "fame's half the reason I joined a band. Who doesn't want to be a fmaous rockstar. Sex. Drugs, and rock n roll baby."

"You look more like the fifth Beatle than Mick Jagger," I note as we pile into a cab. His hair's certainly Beatlesque. He's also got the boyish charm down, however rakish. 

"Oi!"

Lucy and Ben shepherd the boys to another interview, with promises of partying and beaches later on our last full day before the concert here. 

I wave them off and head up to our room to change out of slacks. I'd been right, I'd been overdressed. And the heat only made it worse. 

By the time I change into some shorts, I feel to tired to go out and sigh see, figuring tonight I'll actually go out with the rest of the crew. It'd be more fun that way. Instead of alone. 

Instead I head down to the lobby with a bag and book and head out to wander the area at least. There's some fast food, the names I know, Mcdonalds and Domino's, and some obvious tourist traps that I go into. 

My family and roommates will at least want a mug. For the first time, I use my own card to buy some souvenirs, opting for keychains to save space. I wander into some of the regular shops to kill time. 

All the stores nearby have a striking similarity to the ones back home. But the architecture's all different. 

My phone is soon full of pictures of streets and buildings and me wearing a New Zealand hat, before I give in and get Mcdonalds, heading back to the hotel, ready to curl up in the beautiful lobby with the book I've lugged all the way from home. 

The air conditioning is a gift. The couch by the indoor fountain perfect and I try to focus on reading Anna Karenina. It's been nagging me since uni. But I've never managed to get through it. 

So many beautiful quotes out there and I can't ever finish a book. 

I almost drop my book as Lucy startles me, taking a seat next to me. "Want to grab lunch by the beach? I mean dinner really but either way?"

"And the boys?"She rolls her watery eyes, the color of fog bound sky, "up to change before having margaritas by the pool. I think they're going out bar hopping again later if you're up for it."

I shrug, "let's see how we feel after wandering about." It's a long walk, but how else will we get to see everything. 

Lucy makes me take a pictures of her against various backdrops. "Make sure you get that building!" She poses. "Wait, over here!" She fixes her hair, back and out of her eyes, "Wait! I think I closed my eyes in that one."

I laugh, willingly taking photo after photo and waiting for her to check them, swiping and zooming in to make sure she likes how it came out. 

"Thank you so much Ellie!"

"It's really no problem."As we get to the beach we duck into the first place that smells good and has a line. 

"First rule of traveling," Lucy grins. "Follow your nose."

It's not half bad. Fish and chips. The fish claiming to be fresh from the day's catch. A perfect dinner. 

Lucy tells me about her last job. "A smaller band, mostly big in europe. I think breaking out into the world's the hardest part. So many bands flounder in the states and unfortunately it's a huge market setter."

"Did you always want to do this kind of PR?" 

"No. But who could refuse traveling! Especially compared to a desk job."

We each pay for our food and head down to the water. The water too inviting to refuse, both of us wading in. 

"It's warm," we both squeal, use to the icy waters of England. 

"It's probably easier to deal with them though."

Lucy's eyebrows rise as she snorts, "you'd be surprised at how crazy things in the boardroom can get!"

We go in past our knees. Yelping as the waves splash, breaking against us. "My underwears soaked," I admit, blushing fiercely. The wet feeling making me want to go running into the water or for a change of clothes.  

"Didn't you say we were just dipping our feet in?"

We laugh. 

The groupchat goes off and we glance at each other, before heading back out of the water. We read over the texts with the sun setting on the water. "This place is paradise," I tell her. Its warm and by the beach and so green. 

"Oh and we've barely even started. Ben told me you didn't even have a passport?" 

I blush. "Yes. I'd only ever been up as far as Scotland." It had been the first and only time I had met my mother's parents. Her family. And despite how it ended, it was a lovely time in the highlands. 

Lucy laughs, scrolling through the messages. "Ben and the rest are heading out to drink up on Cuba street. 'cept for Miles and Alex. They want to go catch some film at a quaint little theater."

"What movie?" 

"The Red Shoes. There'll be food and drinks there too." We trudge through the sand and peddles and reach the sidewalk. This time we hail a cab. 

"How's Cuba street," I ask. She's travelled before. Probably been here with a different band. A different crew. Older than me, lines around her eyes. 

"I mean it's cool," she offers, "but mostly pubs and-it's very much Camden town than Shoreditch."

"A movie sounds nice after all the walking. Maybe along with a nice glass of wine."

"I'll tell Miles we'll be over then," she says, looking up with a smile. It's great to have her here, to get along with her so easily. I'd been nervous before, never having made friends easily in school. Just my dorm mates and whoever I ended up sitting near in class. 

"And I'll tell the cab where to."

Miles and Alex are waiting for us outside when we pull up. Even illuminated by dim streetlights, it's easy too see how pretty Alex is, his face now sans aviators and with a good night's sleep.  

Large and expressive caramel eyes, a softness to his sharp jaw, and a well formed mouth. It helped that he was a good mood, joking with Miles.

"-and I said fuck that mate and drained the whole thing. Burned to bloody hell and back though!"

"Just can't beat an englishman!"

Lucy rolls her eyes, "boys will be boys."

"Ah my dear sweet Lucy who pelts me with candy as I mouth off! Reminds me of me history teacher," Miles winks exaggeratedly. "This is me mate Alex ," he clasps him on the shoulder, pulling him into his embrace, "Alex. This is Lucy and Ellie who I know you already met but."

"Speaking of which," I note, aware of the sand still stuck to my legs and the drying hem of my shorts, "you owe me a drink."

"Oi! What a woman! Hell El, gotta at least wait until we sit down or you might be what we call the local old dog who spends all his days in the back booths of pubs." His voice is all over the place as he twirls an imaginary mustache and it's a combination of it all and him being him that has us all laughing at his antics.

We order chips and a bottle of wine, "to keep it classy," Miles winks, and take our seats in the tiny theater. 

Alex takes the seat between me and Miles, attention dominated by the other man. All the better for me to sneak glances off and it's stupid but I already feel my heart speed up at the sight of him like I'm a teenager all over again. 

"Any if you seen this movie before," Lucy asks conversationally.

" 've not but then again i'm not the most cultured," Miles does a very bad accent as he continues, "je ne sais quoi."

"The french give us films and Serge Gainsbourg and this is how you pay them back," Alex teases, smacking Miles lightly in the arm. I chuckle at that, watching Miles go all mock affronted and tease Alex right back. 

"Is it anything like that old fairy tale?" I can vaguely recall something about cursed red shoes, but the twelve dancing princesses was the story I asked for night after night to my mums despair. 

Alex nods, with a delighted smile on his lips, "loosely. It's great. I think you'll like a lot."

The lights dim and the screen flickers on. I sit back and watch, glass of wine in hand feeling like I'm finally living that life that doesn't really exist, the moments that come straight of of films like this one.

Alex is right. I do like the film.

Its beautiful and I'm not bored at any point. I can here Miles making quite snide comments and am not surprised. 

"It was good," Lucy remarks after as we head out, "very black swan."

"Wouldn't black swan be like this film since it came out before?" I utter. 

"She's got you there Lucy darling," Miles snipes. "Who's up for some drinks! The rest of the boys are still out and about and I've got a bloody mary calling my name." 

He glances at Alex for a second before erupting into laughter that has Alex smiling as well. Must be an inside joke of there's. 

"Are you two coming," Alex asks, meeting my gaze. 

I shake my head. If I wake up early enough tomorrow I could probably squeeze in a trip to hobbit town and back before I had to run anywhere. 

I tell him as much. "Mums a huge Tolkien nerd, so I kind of have to."

Alex nods in understanding, "I've never cared for Tolkien. 've always preferred science fiction. Going way back to good ol Mary."

It take me a second for it to click. Mary Shelley. As in Frankenstein. "Never read it."

"You should. It's a great little book."

Miles snorts, "just watch the movie with the willy wonka fella!"

Alex rolls his eyes fondly. 

We hail a cab and part ways. 

Lucy boldly proclaiming she intends to get a good nights sleep and still look "banging in my fourties."

"Ya that old Lucy darling," Miles snorts, unable to help himself.

"Don'tcha know never to ask a lady her age Kane," Lucy calls out as the cab pulls away and I'm giggling, carefree. No one here knows me. I feel unabashed, making a scene and taking cabs about town. 

"So that Alex is right fit," Lucy states with a knowing smile as she plays the spice girls loudly in our room, handing me more wine. I blush and think I must've drunk way more than I though I did. He is! And I don't know what to do with that. 

So I shrug and reply, "I guess," to her very unconvinced face. With ease, a down another glass of wine, shamelessly crying out spice girls lyrics. 

I might as well be thirteen again. 

[singingwordwright]

Untitled: Malec Rock Star AU concept

Okay, after @ohfreckle​ and @faejilly​ so cruelly encouraged me yesterday, I had to at least take this concept out for a test drive.

The plot still hasn’t come together fully, this is totally unedited and unbetaed so far, and I have no posting schedule planned for it. Also, I have no idea what s3 is going to do to my head and whether it’s going to drive this story totally out and fill my brain with other stuff. Thus, like the D&D concept, I’m not putting it up on AO3 yet, because I don’t want to start anything else I may not finish.

However, for those of you who were intrigued, I thought I’d give you a hint of what it would look like.

Also, this piece is 100% inspired by @noksindra​‘s fanart based on the People’s Sexiest Men photoshoot, and I’ll be borrowing each characters’ instrument/role in the band from that, as well as the band and album names. Credit goes to them for that portion.

Anyway, enjoy!

Trigger warnings for sham marriages, drinking, mentions of past drug use, and past minor character death.

Gideon’s dark hair was soft beneath Alec’s fingers. He sat on the edge of the bed in the Captain America-themed bedroom they decorated together last year and stared down at his sleeping son, eyes burning and his throat tight.

Rubbed a shaking hand across his mouth, nearly overwhelmed by the temptation to go crawl into his own bed and hide away to avoid the pending confrontation.

Or, alternatively, he could get his shit together.

Eventually, headlights painted the wall, splashing harsh light into the quiet, comfortable darkness. Since there were only two houses on their—his—cul-de-sac, and the other one was currently empty, it wasn’t hard to guess whose car had just arrived.

Lydia’s key jingled in the lock. The front door squeaked softly as it opened, and clicked quietly shut. He could hear her in the dining room, the clink of crystal suggesting she’d made a stop by the liquor cabinet he hadn’t gotten around to purging.

Alec sighed and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, then rose.

As he thought, there are two whiskey glasses on the dining room table. Lydia hadn’t turned the dimmer switch up very high; she sat there in semi-darkness, staring down at her folded hands.

“Alec, I’m so sorry about Max and Jace,” she said before he could speak.

“Yeah, well, that might have meant more if you’d actually been there at the funeral,” he replied tightly. Which was unfair. His parents had never really warmed to her and his father had been convinced he’d shot his career in the foot, marrying and having a child so young. They wouldn’t have wanted Lydia at the funeral.

Rather than deal with all that, though, he gestured to the glasses. “You shouldn’t have poured those. Simon and I made a pledge after we—well, after. The band is going totally dry.”

Lydia snorted. “Easy pledge for you and Simon to make. Neither of you likes to drink much.”

Alec took a chair, but didn’t pick up his glass. “Still, we thought it would be easier for everyone…”

“And it will. But do you think it’s going to help Jace later, when you’re on the road, if you refuse to have a drink with me tonight, to make a difficult conversation go more smoothly?”

“Good point, counselor.” Alec sighed and lifted his drink. The whiskey seared his throat and he shuddered, but the warmth that radiated from his stomach soothed his temper and nerves, and damn Lydia for right about that.

“How was Gideon this weekend?” she asked once their glasses were empty.

“How do you think?” He pressed his lips together, because that was way more snarly than he wanted to be in this conversation. The sudden surge of anger didn’t surprise him much; he’d been tamping it down for almost a week. But a lot of it had nothing to do with Lydia and if he unleashed the part of it she did own, he’d end up heaping the rest of it on her as well.

“I spent all weekend answering the same question over and over: why won’t he and mommy be living with me anymore. And I had to bullshit my way through it every time, because I don’t even know the answer!”

“Alec—”

“No!” His hand shot up, cutting her off, and his well-intentioned effort not to rip into her verbally hung by a precariously thin thread. “I get an email from you one day telling me you’re taking Gideon out to your grandparents’ old place in the country, so you won’t have internet or phone. Which would have been fine but it meant I couldn’t reach you after the accident. And then I get home from burying one brother and delivering the other to fucking rehab, only to find divorce papers sitting on my goddamn table, with a note saying you’d talk to me when you got back. Then, two weeks later, you call saying you’re back and you’ll stop by and drop Gideon off to spend the weekend with me, and we could talk after he fell asleep. Well, fine. Here we are, Lydia. Our son’s asleep and I think I’m finally entitled to a damned explanation.”

She gave him a long, tired look, and reached for the decanter of whiskey once again.

“You are,” she said after pouring another shot and taking a slow sip. “But first you’re entitled to an apology. I left the divorce papers and the note three days before the accident. I was out in the country when the news about Max and Sebastian and Jace broke. Please believe me, I would have wanted to be here. I would have done things entirely differently if I’d known—”

“Yeah, I get it. You didn’t mean to kick me in the balls while I was already down, it was just bad timing.” Alec scrubbed his hands over his face until his eyes stopped burning. “Sorry. That was unnecessary.”

“No, it wasn’t. You’re totally justified in being angry with me. I needed space to think and prepare myself for this conversation, but I ended up making what was a terrible time for you far worse, and not being there to support you when you needed me. I truly am sorry for that.”

Alec closed his eyes and swiped the back of his hand across his damp lashes. “I just want to know why. We were a family. I thought we were happy. What am I missing?”

She didn’t quite roll her eyes at him, but there was an incredulous really? riding heavily on the wry gaze she fixed on him.

“What, are you trying to make me say it?”

His hackles rose at that knowing look. It left him feeling exposed and defensive. “Why not?” He flung out a hand. “You’re the one with all the damn answers!”

“Not this one, Alec. This one can’t come from me. You need to be the one to say it.”

“Don’t.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the table until his temper was back under control. “Have I ever done anything to make you think—” Except, of course, it was what he hadn’t done that confirmed what she’d always suspected and he’d never said. Dammit. “Have I ever been papped in a compromising situation or done anything to end up on the gossip blogs?”

“No, of course not. You’d never take that risk with the morals clause still in your contract with Idris Records, nor would you humiliate me that way. I’ve always appreciated that about you. But I need more.”

More. A more that he couldn’t offer. “You know I wouldn’t mind if—”

Then she did roll her eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’d be terrific. I’d get papped slinking away from some illicit encounter. I’d be vilified all over the blogosphere as the scarlet woman who broke shy, quiet Alec Lightwood’s heart. The Nephilim would probably have to break ties with my firm, which would cost me my job, but at least you’d become a media and fangirl darling for fifteen milliseconds. Robert Pattinson Goes Rock-n-Roll.”

He didn’t have an answer for that, because of course she was right. They’d somehow managed to trap each other, when they’d always intended the exact opposite. He nodded, hanging his head.

“We were using each other and you know it. Not callously; we truly care about one another, but not the way we’re supposed to. Not in the way that will sustain a marriage.” She stared at him levelly. “We each had something the other needed for a time. I needed a husband after John died, because I didn’t want to be a single mom just finishing law school, and because John’s awful family would have made a bid for custody if they’d known about the baby, and they had enough money that they might have won.”

She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. They’d had very frank discussions at the time about how his coloring was similar enough to John’s that no one would question it if he’d claimed the baby was his.

“And you needed a plausible excuse for why you never banged any groupies or showed up to events with some up-and-coming starlet or model on your arm,” she concluded, her voice subdued.

Alec’s mouth twisted. The idea that he was a devoted family man helped bolster his appeal with some of the band’s audience. Jace cultivated the image of the wild party boy, while Alec was the deadpan sidekick who kept him grounded. It played well in interviews.

Except now it was clear Alec had failed spectacularly at fulfilling his role.

He huffed in irritation. “Okay, so it wasn’t a traditional marriage, but it was working. At least, I thought it was. When did that change?”

“When I got lonely, Alec.” Lydia’s eyes were sad when she met his startled glance. “I know you being off touring is part of the package, and for a long time, I was okay with that. After losing John, when Gideon was little and I was so wrapped up in him and starting my career, I didn’t want anyone else. But it’s been six years, and I’m ready to try to find someone. And I—”

Her voice hitched and her eyes swam. She hasn’t wept in front of him since the day Gideon was born, looking exactly like John. “I care about you enough that I started coming dangerously close to deluding myself. Telling myself that maybe you and I could make it...make it real. Maybe I just hadn’t ever tried to be attractive to you, and it wasn’t that you couldn’t want me, it’s just that you were being a gentleman, giving me time to get over John. That you might want me once I let you know I was ready.”

Alec sniffled and wiped his eyes again. Hurting Lydia was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do, yet somehow, just by existing as who he was, he’d managed to do just that. After all the blows he’d taken these past few weeks, that was one too many.

“That’s when I knew I had to get out.” She shrugged, her smile forced but fond. “But you? You don’t like change. I know leaving the divorce papers was cowardly, but I didn’t know how to convince you it was time to let go. I thought if I gave us both a few weeks to settle in with the idea before we talked about it—”

“Alright. Alright. I get it.” His breath shuddered, but he nodded, lifting his head. “Okay. So what do we do now?”

“We sign the papers, and release a statement through your publicist that we are amicably divorcing, our son continues to be our top priority, we’d appreciate privacy during this time of transition, et cetera et cetera. Then, you take a while to heal and support Jace in his recovery. I’ll work on buying out Sebastian Morgenstern’s rights to The Nephilim’s brand and catalog. In fact, I’m already on it.”

Alec bared his teeth in fury at the mere name of the drummer who had gotten Jace hooked on drugs. Sebastian had been behind the wheel, higher than a fucking kite, the night of the accident. Yet somehow he walked away with only a few bruised ribs while Max…

Dammit.

Lydia gave Alec a moment to seethe, then continued, “Once Isabelle has had time to grieve, she’ll return from staying with your parents and begin work on finding The Nephilim a new drummer and front man. Then I’ll do what I do and handle the contracts.”

“I don’t think we can do that,” Alec said, shaking his head. “Ask Izzy to replace Max?”

“She’s your manager, Alec. Who else is going to do it?”

“I’m just… The Nephilim happened because of Max. Yeah, Simon and I were the songwriters, but it was Max as the child-prodigy with the angel face that really made it happen. I’m not sure the band can exist without him. I’m not sure I want it to.”

Lydia frowned. “So you’re all...just going to retire? Try for solo careers?”

“Come on, Lydia. We both know I don’t have the vocal chops for a solo career.” Alec snorted. “Simon could pull it off, and maybe Jace if he can keep his nose clean, but I’m just, you know, Tony Banks. I’ll always be stuck playing keyboards and singing backup.”

“You’re a brilliant songwriter, Alec. You and Simon together. Max may have been the face of The Nephilim, but you are the soul.”

Alec’s cheeks warmed. “Thanks. But not the point. Actually, we were thinking of forming a new band. Simon and I talked about it over coffee after Max’s wake. We didn’t want to put it on Izzy to try to find someone to fill his shoes, and we knew it wouldn’t be the same anyway, so we were thinking maybe building something new of the skeleton of The Nephilim. Like the core members of Joy Division forming New Order, or David Grohl moving on from Nirvana to Foo Fighters.”

“Mike Rutherford forming Mike + the Mechanics while Genesis was taking a break,” she added, picking up on his chain of thought.

“Exactly. Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page going from The Yardbirds to Cream and Led Zeppelin, respectively.”

“It’s risky.” Crystal chimed as Lydia tapped her fingernail against her empty glass. “It rarely works out as well as it did for Grohl and Page. You’d be giving up all the branding you’ve built as The Nephilim and starting from scratch. Some diehard fans might follow you, the same way they would if you decided to split up and try for solo careers, but you’d lose a big chunk of your audience.”

Alec shrugged. “Max is—was—The Nephilim. This is the way it has to be.”

“All right. There’s going to be a whole stack of new contracts that will need to be negotiated, then. Like whether the new band will have the rights to The Nephilim’s old catalog and brand. But that’s something to figure out once you have a singer and drummer. I assume, even if you won’t be using the The Nephilim band name anymore, you don’t want Sebastian to have rights to it?”

“I’ll fucking kill him if he tries,” Alec growled, and buckled in to talk business.

“Magnus Bane,” Izzy announced two months later, apropos of nothing as she slid into the booth across from Alec.

Alec rubbed his forehead. “That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“What name?” Simon asked, returning from flirting with the bartender. Or whatever passed for flirting with him. Jace had never quite managed to get a grip on his jealousy over Simon’s inexplicable appeal to girls. Jace was the one with the golden-boy good looks and charm, the one whose skill on the bass was frequently compared to greats such as Sting and Geddy Lee. But Simon, with his nerdy hipster appeal and adequate but less showy handling of the lead guitar, always topped the popularity polls, far ahead of Jace.

Alec, for his part, just wanted them both to shut up about it.

Izzy leaned over until her chin rested on Simon’s shoulder, her hand slipping into his lap as she peered past him toward the bar. “She’s cute.”

Simon smirked and kissed her jaw. “If you want to find out if she’s into girls, you have to ask her yourself. Her name’s Maia.”

Izzy mock-pouted. “I didn’t come up in conversation?”

He shook his head fondly. “Nope. Two things guaranteed to get a girl to stop talking to me. One: mentioning I have a girlfriend, and two: acting like some skeezy asshole and asking a girl if she might be interested in a threesome with me and my girlfriend. No way, not going there. Besides, she’s really nice.”

“Oh!” Izzy’s eyes widened. “You like her. Well, how about I ask her out for you? That way, she knows all about me and there’s no danger of her assuming you’re a cheating creep.”

“Or you could ask her out for yourself?” he shot back as Alec wished that his glass of cola was large enough to dunk his head in and drown out their conversation.

“Who says I won’t ask her out for both of us?”

“Can we please, for the love of God, get back to the subject?” Alec demanded.

Simon and Izzy both gave him guilty looks, which Alec interpreted to mean they’d literally forgotten he was there.

“Right.” Simon cleared his throat and folded his hands together on the table before him. “Something about a name?”

“Magnus Bane,” Izzy announced again, triumphantly.

“Oh! The guy who went viral after he was on that reality show! Which one was it, again? He was good!”

Alec gritted his teeth. “Let’s assume for a moment that I don’t know what the hell either of you are talking about and clue me in.”

Izzy sighed and pulled out her phone, poking at it as she spoke. “Last year, Magnus Bane made it past the audition rounds on one of the reality singing competition shows. He was incredible, but the producers had already decided who was going to win and they made sure that happened. Magnus was eliminated four weeks from the finale, but by then his first performance on the show had gone hugely viral and he’d built a fan base. Enough so that, even though he didn’t win the competition, the labels took notice. He happened to sign with Idris recently, and now that the deal is inked, his manager has been auditioning talent to back him as a solo artist. But rumor has it he’s a Nephilim fan, and I think I could convince the label, and his manager, to let him join our new project instead.”

She passed her phone over, along with her wireless earbuds. Alec inserted them, unpaused the video she had loaded for him...

...and promptly forgot how to breathe.

Magnus Bane was amazing. His voice was a smoky bari-tenor with just the right amount blues-tinged whiskey-and-growl. His fashion sense was glamorous without being either ostentatious or campy, and his eyeliner was sultry enough to oust Dave Navarro from Alec’s catalog of wet dream fodder and make Bowie and Lambert look like a toddlers who’d gotten into their moms’ makeup kits.

He strutted across the stage like sex on legs, wild and dangerous and...kind of sweet, too. It was there, easy to miss, but lurking in the way a dimple appeared when he smiled at the applause when he was done performing.

“He’s, um...wow.” Alec passed the phone and earbuds back to Izzy. “He’s not much like Max, though, is he?”

She smiled sadly, leaning against Simon, who rubbed her shoulder. More than any of them, Izzy blamed herself for what had happened to Max. She’d been the one to persuade them that Sebastian was the right fit for The Nephilim, after all. “Is that really a bad thing? If it’s actually going to be a new band, we need a new image.”

“Yeah, but, musically, I mean.” Alec forced himself to ignore the part of himself that was salivating at the idea of writing music for Magnus’s voice. “Can we adapt to playing with someone whose style is so different?”

Simon’s hand shot into the air. “I volunteer as tribute!”

Alec blinked. “Huh?”

Izzy shoved Simon down. “Ignore him. He’s being a film nerd again. It’s a quote from that movie you couldn’t bring yourself to watch because it came out just after Gideon was born.” She patted Simon’s hand as he sulked. “But maybe that answers your question? Simon thinks he can play with the guy. If you do too, then Jace is the only one we need to convince.”

“What about the sobriety pledge?” Alec met Simon’s eyes, then looked back at Izzy. “He looks like he might like to party a bit.”

“So far no rumors of any problem behaviors have emerged from behind the scenes of the competition or from anyone who has worked with him since. I’ve scoured his social media feeds and while he has been out to bars and clubs with friends, there haven’t been any drunk tweets or videos. Then there’s this.”

She poked at her phone for a moment and handed it back to Alec, a tweet thread dated late July filling the screen.

Magnus Bane @MagnificentBane

So heartbroken to hear about Max Lightwood. He may have been younger than me, but he was decades beyond his age in talent. #RIPMaxL

I’m even more heartbroken to hear he wasn’t even the one who was high. He was just in the wrong car with the wrong guy.

I hope @SebMorningStar faces the consequences for his choices. The rest of us need to take this as a lesson.

We’ve lost too many talented people in this industry, friends and loved-ones, to drugs, alcohol, and irresponsible behavior.

No one, however talented, is indestructible. Fame is a very unreliable airbag.

That was weirdly poetic, Alec though, smiling despite the fresh pain in his heart at seeing those thoughts on Max. The guy was probably a capable lyricist.

I love a night out at the club as much as the next guy, but I’ve learned from a lot of close calls who not to trust with the keys.

Sometimes the guy who shouldn’t have the keys is me. I’ve learned to make sure everyone gets home safely then, too.

It’s a fucking tragedy that Max will never get the chance to learn how to make that call.

My heart goes out to his brothers and the rest of @NephilimBand and the Lightwood family. May they find comfort and solace. #RIPMaxL

Alec blinked rapidly and passed the phone back to Izzy. “Wow. Okay. So I don’t think we’d have a hard time talking him into the sobriety pledge.”

Simon glanced at the tweets over Izzy’s shoulder. “Especially if we just make it clear that he’s free to do what he wants when he’s not in the studio or touring with the rest of us. I mean, I’m not interested in telling anyone they can’t have beers with the guys while watching a game or go out for a drink with friends. Just, you know, not when the rest of us are there.”

“You really think you can get him to agree to it?”

She took a slow drink of her virgin daiquiri. “I think so. There’s no downside to it for him. He needs a band; you already have a band, minus a drummer but we can fix that. True, he won’t be billed as a solo act, but signing on with you guys means he starts out with a bigger fan base than just his social media following since the competition. Plus, we know he likes your music.”

“Any potential downsides for us?” Alec asked.

“None that I can think of. In fact, he’s openly bisexual so we might end up increasing our LGBTQ fanbase.”

He frowned sharply. “What? How’s that going to work with the morals clause in our contract?”

“Lydia’s renegotiating from the ground up.” Izzy gave him a grin so toothy it would make sharks swim away in terror. “Whole new band means the old contract gets thrown out. She’s insisting on getting rid of the morals clause.”

Alec stared at her for an incredulous moment, then narrowed his eyes at Simon, who sank down in the booth a little. “The new band was your suggestion. Did Isabelle put you up to that?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that was totally the first thing on her mind when she was crying her eyes out over Max.”

“Right. Sorry. That was out of line. I just—” Alec rubbed his forehead. However coincidental the timing, Simon and Izzy couldn’t know why Lydia was divorcing Alec. They might suspect, but they didn’t know.

“Alec, do you think Simon and I like hiding who we are?” Izzy asked softly. “Thanks to that morals clause, we have to pretend we’re not dating, or otherwise we’d have to pretend to be monogamous. I mean, sure, since Simon’s the one bound by the old contract, the label would probably turn a blind eye if we only saw other women.” She nodded toward Maia over at the bar. “They’d assume he was cheating on me, and for some odd reason they’d decide that didn’t violate the prohibition against illicit sexual behavior. But God forbid if we wanted to date another man.”

Alec struggled not to shudder or wince. “You get that this is way beyond TMI, right?”

“But you get what I’m saying.” She gave him a censorious look, the kind that never failed to whip the band into shape whenever they started misbehaving in the studio. She’d mastered it since she’d taken over managing the band from their father, when their parents had divorced. “It wasn’t as big a deal when Max was with us; The Nephilim had a certain image that was entirely appropriate for a band whose first album dropped before their lead vocalist had to shave regularly. But we’re starting with a clean slate. New image, new outlook. I’m just saying, there’s more than one person in the band who will benefit from losing the morals clause, okay?”

“Okay.” Alec caught Simon’s eyes and nodded. “I’ll let Jace know when I pick him up from rehab next weekend. I don’t think he’ll have any objections, So if Magnus is interested, have him join us in the studio as soon as possible; we can bring in a session drummer temporarily if we have to. Let’s just all jam and see how we work together.”

On to Chapter 2

[veryrealimagination]

Whumptober Day 4

Day No: 4

Prompt: “Do you trust me?” | Taken Hostage | Pushed

Fandom/OC: Superman & Lois (2021)

Medium: Fic

Trigger Warnings:

SFW/NSFW

Additional Tags: Smallville (2001) Enemy Appearance, Some of original Multiverse still exists after Crisis,

He doesn’t know how he fell into this Smallville. He only knows that it’s not his Smallville. Lana Lang isn’t married to Lex Luthor. Never had been. He never even lived in the town. Neither, none of the Luthors did. (Another Luthor sister, although this one wasn’t Tess Mercer. She actually carried the name Luthor.) He didn’t know anyone named Kyle Cushing. The Talon doesn’t exist. The name Chloe Sullivan gets him a lot of strange looks. There’s never been a Chloe Sullivan here? She was Lois Lane’s cousin. That name got attention, as the woman now lives in Martha’s old house with her twins and her husband, Clark.

Clark Kent.

He exists here, whatever universe he apparently ended up. There was a Clark Kent here. And there was a Superman. He remembered those powers. He remembered feeling great, powerful and stronger than everyone else around him. The fear of his parents, but the satisfaction of being better, finally. He could get them back. This Smallville still had Kryptonite. He saw it wandering through the woods trying to find evidence of people. There was already a good sized crystal in his pockets. Another surge of electricity with a Clark Kent that didn’t know what it could do with him holding the other side.

But, would that work? This Clark was older, married to Pulitzer Prize winner Lois Lane. She would figure out what happened after a minute of listening to the story. Her father was DOD, the military had recently been here. Would he be able to get away with the switch?

It was hard finding a hiding spot, but the man managed it. The trees were further away than he liked, but the stuff he stole off of someone that didn’t lock their house. God, people were really idiots in small towns. He remembered people doing that as well back in Smallville. His Smallville. The Kents were always like that, although they had a superpowered kid to protect them.

The first one out was some teen. Did Clark have a kid? The kid had some of his traits. Tall, easy-going. He had lighter colored hair and he knew Kent and Lane were dark brunettes. Maybe she cheated. It was a dark thought, but one that brought a chuckle. He doubted Lois Lane, cousin of Chloe Sullivan, would ever cheat. Chloe Sullivan-Queen was a bitter thought that popped in. Chloe had been a natural blonde. Maybe it was from her side. It was the second one that really looked like Clark, although he didn’t look to really act like him. He had two?

It was a shame that he couldn’t hear like Clark at the moment. And the people that he stole the binoculars, the money, and a few other things from didn’t have a listening device. Instead, he could only watch as the two threw a football around. He was an only child, and no one stayed friends with him after they experienced his parents a couple of times. The easy way they treated each other, laughter as one fumbled a bit, fake fighting, grew and gnawed as his already depleted state of mind. Clark Kent had to have it all. A loving set of parents, some of the hottest girls hanging off of him. Friends that would die to keep his secret and protect his life.

Why couldn’t he have that? He got stuck with the father that berated him for not being good enough. A mother that didn’t fight for him. People that shoved him around when he tried to help. Okay, he was really only helping Holly because she was cute, but even just getting a smile from a cute girl was something that he never really got. When he got powers, it was the best for a short while. People wanted to be near him. To know him. If he got those powers back, he could have that again.

His eyes had glazed over with the trip into his inner consciousness, but it came back when he saw the boys had switched games. The truck that had to be older than he was, and that was saying something because he was just as old as Clark, his Clark was. The lighter haired one was egging on his brother.

The man gasped as he saw mini Clark lift the truck from the side and hold it for a good sixty seconds before placing it down. “He inherited them,” he muttered, before realizing he had talked aloud near two possible superhearing people. Seeing that the boys hadn’t noticed him, he watched for their father to come out instead.

Lois came out instead.

It was horrifically weird seeing this woman. There was a freak in the asylum that managed to woo over a Luthor guard and would find out everything from the outside. She managed to get pictures in. That’s when he first saw Chloe’s cousin. It seared in his mind, along with Chloe, Pete, Martha, and other superheroes that helped the man out. People that Clark got to have. She wasn’t a clone of that one, but she was similar enough. As if someone played with pictures and applied filters to her face to get a new one. Creepy.

She must have been chastising the boys, both looking sheepish. It wasn’t too terrible though, because she just shook her head and started laughing. He could hear scant amounts of it. It must be nice to have that. The three of them went into the house after that, and he took the opportunity to escape before their version of Clark showed up.

-

Jonathan had gone out for a quick run around town. It was more to keep himself in shape than to train for anything. He wasn’t sure if he was going to do football again in the fall. He wanted to, it was his favorite sport to really play. Jordan wanted to as well, even though his first season was bumpy. The coach liked them well enough, the guys were still okay with them even after leaving roughly. A few seniors were obviously leaving and that would give them some places that they could fill.

There was, however, always the family stuff. Jordan still spontaneously spouted powers that sometimes took him out of school for a few days. His strength control was better, much to Jordan’s comfort. Jonathan was wary of his own possibility that he might develop something. Jordan’s happened because he was in danger. He hasn’t developed any yet. But it was always a yet.

His running took him around the three stages of school, elementary, middle, then the high, before he decided to start going through the old industrial park as well. The broken cement reminded him of some of the parking lots, roads, and running trails that he ran around Metropolis. He had to be more cautious, and he considered it a bit of field training as well. Some of the schools they used to go to had lumpy fields that the schools probably tried fixing and couldn’t manage like bigger schools could.

He didn’t wear earbuds now, so the scrapping of metal stopped him in his tracks. The industrial park was mostly abandoned, as companies started leaving when the economy turned bad. There were two that still had operations there. A Queen plant, and a Luthor. He was near neither of those.

Curious, he moved over, seeing a broken door barely covered by plywood. He thought about calling Jordan, knowing he would be by in a couple of seconds. He should call Jordan, or better yet, walk away. Mom’s voice was in his head insisting that. Instead, he pulled it back and headed inside. Looking around, he saw a sign for Mercer & Company. He hadn’t heard of them. Maybe he would have to ask his Dad after this. The floor of the building had deep holes. Above those were old cauldrons for smelting metals. Most of them were barricaded, but a few of the metal poles had rusted and given out. “Maybe I just heard one of those breaking,” he muttered, to himself. “Creepy old factory. Bad idea, Jonathan.”

“I don’t know, I thought it was a pretty good one,” someone said, startling him. Before he turned around, someone had an arm around his neck. He struggled, hoping that a cliched appearance of super strength came out so he could toss whatever creep decided to lure him into an abandoned factory. Jordan was going to hold this over him. Going into an abandoned area to investigate some sound. Mom was going to ground him when this came out. “You know, I am so glad you haven’t gotten your father’s powers.”

That shocked him to stop struggling, which made it easier for this strange guy to drag him over old metal stairs. “Powers? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried, a strained smile settling on his face to try and pass for easy-going, “My Dad’s just a farm guy. Mom’s got the real superpowers. She can manage me and my brother at the same time. We’re kinda a handful.”

The guy actually chuckled a bit as Jonathan started struggling again as they got higher. “Oh, yeah, Clark’s a real farmer. Good old Jonathan Kent taught him. Your grandfather, right?” he said, “Everyone always wondered how the old man got things done so fast. As it turns out, having a superpowered kid dropped into your lap helps.”

Again, shocked. How did this guy know so much about his family? They were steadily getting to a catwalk that went over the entire floor. Bits were broken, and it squeaked, but held as he was let go for a moment. However, the guy brought out a gun, and pointed it at him. He held up his hands automatically. That’s what he was supposed to do. His Mom usually did that until she brought out a taser, or the ELT to get Dad to respond. He had the ELT. In his pocket. In his jeans. At home. He forgot his ELT. Did he have his phone? Yes, he did, it was on his bicep in the holder. “Okay, so, how did you meet my Dad?” he asked, half interested, half terrified.

“I didn’t,” he said, “Keep moving forward.”

Jonathan was now confused. He knew about Dad, knew about his powers. Knew about his grandparents adopting him. Maybe knew about the alien part? He had to stop thinking as the catwalk threatened to give out from underneath him. He kept going after hitting a safe area. “For someone that’s never met my Dad, you sure know a lot about him.” He scanned ahead of him and saw a pair of suspiciously white zip cuffs ahead of him.

“I said I never met your Dad. I know my Clark Kent, though. And his family.” That actually made a lot of sense. The guy’s from a different universe? Jonathan turned around when he got to the zip cuffs. The guy actually smirked. “Sit down, put those around your ankles.” Nervous, he tried to gently sit down and got his feet through the loops. “Now tighten them.” Jonathan stared at the guy before he carefully closed the loops to where he could barely move around.

“Alternate universe? Cool,” he said, his voice only slightly cracking. His parents were always careful, and they weren’t really in any danger from their stories. It was only after coming back to Smallville with Jordan’s powers and Edge’s plans that they really started seeing some of the danger that their parents faced for years. A little crack in his voice was better than breaking down screaming for help. Why did he do that? His Dad could just fly in, grab this guy, then fly off again. He watched the guy pull out another zip cuff.

“Hands in front of you,” the man directed. Jonathan watched him zip his hands with one hand, keeping the gun pointed at his head.

“So, what, uh, what’s different about our universe?” he asked.

The guy glanced at him for a minute. “Anyone in your family named Chloe Sullivan?”

He had never heard of that name. “Nope.”

The guy nodded, getting confirming the answer. “In mine, she’s a cousin of your mother. Grew up in Smallville and went to school with Clark. They were best friends.”

Third shock of the day. Besides the hostage situation, which he felt he was handling very well. Very, very well. “Mom never mentions any cousins. She barely mentions our Aunt.” And his Dad doesn’t mention his cousin. They rarely talked to ‘Uncle’ Jimmy anymore. Their Dad really needed more people to talk with. So did they.

Maybe he wasn’t doing so well with the handling part with his mind and mouth running faster than making Eliza angry a year ago.

The guy put the gun away. Didn’t need it at the moment. “So, how should I contact your brother?” he asked, staring down at him.

Jonathan looked at him, the pit of his stomach developing ice blocks. “What do you want with Jordan?”

The guy shrugged. “His powers.”

That sounded crazy. “What?!” The man had a twitch in his hand, and he hoped that the gun wasn’t going to come back out. He didn’t want to get shot today. He also didn’t want to fall down any of those holes in the ground, but he had a bad feeling about those things.

“I can take his powers,” he stated. “Got everything here for it. Your brother gets to be human, and I get to be better.”

“There’s gotta be a catch,” he said.

“It hurts a bit. The best things do.” The guy was smiling. “How do I call your brother? Has his hearing picked up?” He noticed the band on his arm and held him in place to remove his phone. “Damn. Didn’t have this when I was a kid.”

“That’s been out for a year.”

“Yeah, the ‘smartphone’ stuff started happening after I was locked up in an asylum. Wasn’t even old enough to drive yet,” he mused. “I missed a lot.”

“You were institutionalized?” Good, Jonathan. Nice language that won’t hopefully piss the guy with a gun off.

He laughed. “Yeah. ‘Institutionalized.’” He knelt down to directly stare at him. “All meteor freaks were. Develop powers, then get shipped off to a hospital that kept you contained so you don’t harm other people. Experimented on to see if your powers were good for weaponizing. They couldn’t weaponize me, but they couldn’t let me out thanks to my many issues. Then, there’s the fact I know that Superman is Clark Kent.” He stood back up, holding off on so much that he could tell this kid.

“Hey!” Jonathan would never admit it was a squeak that came out when the man dragged him up. It didn’t completely pass his attention that they were set up near one of the deep holes. The furnace that sat above it was half-gone. The catwalk had a suspicious part of its railing right over that hole, and he was being forced to stand right in front of it. His toes were just over the catwalk. “You know, I think I should sit back down. I’m getting a bit of vertigo and kinda wobbly on my legs right now.”

“Don’t move too much and you’ll be fine,” he jokingly warned. Jonathan glared at him.

Staring down at the darkness below was a terrible idea. Too bad it was sort of enchanting in a black way. Fall over and disappear. So, he switched his head up. The sun was higher, lighting up the interior of the factory. He could see more rust on the metals, broken equipment and forgotten tools lying about. The hole beneath him, however, grew more shadowed, the darkness getting darker as the sun couldn’t get over the lip of the edge to get through. He was staring down at the hole again. It terrified him now, thinking about not knowing what he was going to land on if he was pushed over. He could hear himself getting worse.

Any anxiety that was about to boil over was shoved down when his phone started going off. The guy started messing with the phone until he managed to answer. “Hey Jon, Mom and Dad want to know when you’re going to be back,” Jordan said.

“Jordan, get Dad!”

“Jon, what’s going on?”

“Jonathan, named after your farmer grandfather. How adorable,” the guy said, “But, I’m the one on the phone, and not you.” A hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and held him out over the hole. He screamed, his knees locking to keep his legs straight so he wouldn’t collapse.

“Jon!”

“Still here!” he yelled. That hole was looking blacker than a power outage in a Metropolis subway. He didn’t want to fall in today.

“He’s fine, maybe.” His arm moved, dragging Jonathan’s body around to increase his fear.

“Oh my god! Please stop doing that.”

“What the hell are you doing to my brother?!”

“Oh, nothing much. Just holding him over a concrete hole about 50 feet above the ground.But, hey. You can get him back, almost mint condition. You just gotta meet us in Mercer and Company’s old factory. Don’t tell your parents where you’re going, though. We don’t want SuperDad to show up and have me drop Jonathan.” He ended the call after that and pulled back his arm. “You’re doing well, kid. Keep that up.”

Concentrating on his breathing, he vaguely noticed that the man was grabbing a severed power cord. The guy touched the exposed wiring and jolted when he felt it. He also smiled. “How are you taking Jordan’s powers?” he asked, his self control gathering a bit.

“It’s my freak power,” he said, pulling out a two inch solid piece of Kryptonite. “I was holding this and lightning hit Clark and I when he was trying to pull me back up the bridge. That’s how I got his powers. The times after that, we switched with electricity. It’s all I need now.”

Jordan had come in after hearing that. He wasn’t sure what the plan was, but they were trying to figure that out. First things first, he had to get the man’s attention. He entered the factory and looked up to see Jonathan on the catwalk. “Jon!”

He grinned. “Jordan!” He squawked when the guy grabbed him again.

“Up the stairs. I’ll hand him back.” Jon’s attempt at warning him were cut off when the hand tightened around his upper arm. “Start moving, kid.”

Jordan scanned for where the stairs were and moved up quickly. He just had to get Jon away from the guy. Dad actually had a whole plan for this type of stuff. He said that he and Aunt Kara had run through it a few times when someone had grabbed Mom for the same reason. To stop Superman from interfering in something. The stairs only looked weak as he moved up them quickly. It was the catwalk that he felt unsafe. The thing had more rust on it than he first saw. He moved slower to avoid breaking anything. He needed to be closer to Jon before the plan would kick in.

“That’s perfect, Jordan,” the guy said, releasing Jon’s arm. “All you have to do is give me a little handshake and you can walk out of here with your brother.” Jordan looked down at his hand and saw the tale tell sign of green Kryptonite along with a live wire nestled next to it.

“He wants your powers, Jordan. Don’t do it,” he said, wincing at the increase in pressure from the man’s hold.

“If you don’t do this, I will push your brother over and let you listen to his body breaking on the floor down there before getting those powers out of you anyways,” he threatened. Jordan looked over to Jon. Trust me? He nodded. The man seemed to know what was happening,

and pushed Jonathan over the edge.

The scream he let out was innate, terrified as he twisted in open air with his body trying to figure out what to do next. Jordan jumped after him, the guy just missing him by two inches. His focus was just on getting to Jon. Five seconds too long, he was holding onto his brother, righting himself before he switched. The air around them slowed down, until he finally was able to stop and hover. “Jordan?” his brother asked, still slightly breathless.

Staring up, he was waiting for the signal to come back. “Yeah?”

“Are you holding me bridal style?” he asked. Jon felt him nod. “Great, because I already had an embarrassing moment entering into an old factory to investigate a sound. Now I’m being held like Mom by my brother. Great.”

He snickered, “Would you rather it be Dad?”

It took a couple of seconds for him to think about that. “Only if it’s not my fault.” After a minute, he felt the two of them slowly fly up out of the hole. The first thing he searched for was his Dad, who wasn’t wearing his suit. Steel was there in his suit. The man was on his knees, apparently handcuffed. “You know, he was a little scarier like five minutes ago.”

“I can imagine,” Clark said, coming over when Jordan landed just outside of the hole. He carefully broke the zip cuffs until the pieces landed on the floor. “So, are you good, or do you want to be carried home like your Mom?”

Jonathan took the opportunity to swing an arm around Jordan’s shoulders, completely ignoring the fact that Dad heard that. “You know, I could go for being carried home by my dear, wonderful,” he said, before Jordan forcibly dropped him onto the ground. “Rude twin brother.” He got a little help standing back up.

His Dad had his phone. “Where’s your ELT?”

“In my jeans. At home,” he admitted.

He sighed, pulling his child close to wrap an arm around his shoulders, “Jonathan.” Jordan started snickering again. He lightly bopped the other on the shoulder. “Let’s get going before the Military shows up.”

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Blue Hippo -- Klance Fic

Finally done with finals and packing/moving (now I have to unpack grrr) so to celebrate, I finished this story I’ve been working on... It gave me a headache so now I’m throwing it at you guys. I don’t want it anymore lol. That being said, I’m debating making this a part of a larger Voltron AU I kind of want to write, so I might one day revisit this and reshape it to fit the fic later. Idk yet. In the meantime, enjoy. If you don’t, then please don’t tell me. I’ll probably cry

~~~~~

Keith could feel his eyelids drooping. He was simply too tired to deal with any other family members. He tried to dredge up some lingering frustration towards Shiro for leaving him in this mess, insisting he actually “do something” for Christmas, instead of just staying home while Shiro visited Allura and her family. However, knowing Keith’s indifference towards the holiday, Shiro hadn’t pushed the matter too far. And, to be fair, he probably would’ve still gotten away with ignoring the holiday if it hadn’t been for Lance.

After seeing Hunk, Pidge, and Matt off, Lance had insisted on getting lunch with Keith before taking off himself. Somehow, in a way only Lance could, he’d gotten it out of Keith that he had no plans for the holiday, choosing to instead hide himself in his room until the holidays were over. Lance had called his parents on the spot, secured his parents’ blessing to have Keith stay with them, and had Keith’s bag packed before Keith could come up with a valid argument against it.

They’d arrived later that day (after the most intense crash course Keith had ever received, all about Lance’s family and a few of their traditions, though he had promised that there was still “much to learn, young padawan”), and their time since had been spent greeting various family members: cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, nieces, nephews. Keith couldn’t understand how Lance still had so much energy. This family probably fed off of each other’s energy or something, that would make the most sense. Keith, however, was exhausted.

Sitting next to Lance on the couch, Keith tilted his head to the side until it made contact with Lance’s shoulder. Lance paused in his enthusiastic story-telling for a moment, making small adjustments until both he and Keith were settled comfortably, before he resumed telling his story to one of his uncles, Keith thought it was. Before he knew it, he’d begun dozing off, enjoying the rich sound of Lance’s voice, and the joy he radiated.

 Lance couldn’t have been happier. What better way to spend Christmas Eve than with his family, and his boyfriend? He looked down at the sleepy boy slumped against him. His mouth was open ever so slightly, and Lance knew that if leaned closer to Keith, he would be able to hear the small puff of air that came with every exhale. Of course, it was very hard to hear that over the din of his family. As two of his nieces rushed over and demanded his attention, his hand moved to stroke through Keith’s hair. Keith tensed for a moment, and Lance was worried he was going to wake up and move away, but instead he just slid further down until he was nestled with his head resting on Lance’s lap, sighing as he drifted off to sleep again. Lance smiled to himself as he returned his focus to his family, contentment spreading through him as he basks in the glow of the Christmas lights surrounding them.

 After what seemed like only a few moments to Keith, he felt himself being nudged awake. When he stirred, he heard Lance whisper, “Babe. C’mon. It’s been like 3 hours. We gotta move up to the bedroom so they can set out the presents.” Then he added as an afterthought, “Besides, you’re going to hurt like hell if you don’t move to a bed.” Keith let out a small whine (though he would never admit to whining when asked later, Lance knew it had happened and treasured the memory), but allowed himself to be moved until he was standing, heavily leaning on Lance. Lance guided the sleepy boy up the stairs and into Lance’s bedroom before letting him land on the bed. With a few annoying pokes and prods, he managed to convince Keith to change into pajamas before tucking him into bed.

After a few minutes, the bed shifted and Keith vaguely realized that Lance must’ve joined him on the other side of the bed. For a minute, Keith froze up. Dimly, he remembered that this was one of those things he had preciously been anxious about. While the two of them were dating now, their relationship was still new, and sharing a bed seemed like a line he didn’t want to cross until he was sure he and Lance were both okay with it. But, right now he was just sleepy, and it wasn’t as if there were a lot of other options, anyway. There were simply too many people in the McClain’s household for them to have separate rooms. Or beds. And with the weight of another body in his bed – something he hadn’t experienced since his childhood with Shiro – and the comforting blankets above them and the soft pillows under them, he couldn’t bring himself to worry anymore. Drifting off to sleep even more quickly now that he was more comfortable, Keith hesitantly shifted a little closer to Lance. He heard a soft sigh come from the other boy, who also wiggled closer, though he moved much further than Keith had, and they were now touching. Their fingers and hands were brushing against each other as they made smaller adjustments in their positions. Despite his usual aversion to touching and cuddling, Keith felt himself relax even further, lulled to sleep by the feelings of safety and contentment.

 The next morning, however, Keith felt like crap. Sure, he had gotten a decent amount of sleep, but he had woken up very nearly spooning Lance. He couldn’t tell if that was thanks to himself, or to Lance, though he was inclined to believe it was Lance. Thankfully Lance hadn’t woken up yet, and only gave mild protests when Keith carefully scrambled out of bed, both desperate to put some space between them again and unwilling to wake Lance up too early. Finally untangling himself from the blankets, Keith located his phone and checked the time. 5:45. Lance had told him the day before that the present-opening usually started around 6, sometimes closer to 6:15. Keith decided to go downstairs and try to make himself some coffee before the mayhem began.

 Lance was regretting his decision to stay up so late catching up with his family. Yet, despite his exhaustion, when the kids had run to their parents’ rooms barging on their doors, Lance was right behind them, encouraging them the whole way. Keith couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or amused, but as he looked at Lance, with sleep still present in his eyes, clad in… was that Keith’s sweater??? Oh god, he was dying. Not once had he imagined that this unplanned trip to visit Lance’s family would include him seeing Lance in his own clothes! Thankfully, he didn’t have a lot of time to try to process this fact, because Lance suddenly came flying at him.

“Keith!” he practically shrieked. Keith startled, rearing back in defense before he realized it, but Lance was used to this and nimbly ducked out of the way of the fist that launched itself towards him. He caught Keith around the waist as the momentum of his attempted punch caused him to fall forward, and Keith found himself wrapped securely in Lance’s arms. Lance didn’t even falter.

“Keith! Aren’t you going to come and open presents with us?!” Keith could only stare up at Lance in surprise and wonder. As he continued to stare, Lance’s bright smile slid into a smirk, and Keith felt a familiar well of embarrassment and anger at the situation rise. He squirmed out of Lance’s arms, fighting for his freedom. Finally free, he turned to look at Lance and snapped out a terse, “Of course I am! But some of us would prefer to get some coffee first! I’m surprised you’re not still asleep, Lance.”

Lance looked offended. “Dude! It’s Christmas! You can’t sleep in on Christmas!” By this point, Lance’s younger cousins had caught up to them and were bouncing around shouting, “Santa came! Santa came!” Keith barely managed to stop himself from faceplanting and shaking his head in exasperation.

One of Lance’s nephews came up to Keith and grabbed his arm. Lance looked at him in concern, but Keith just shook his head at him. “Come on! We gotta go open presents!” the little boy told Keith. He seemed very worried at the idea of Keith missing out on their valued tradition. Keith wasn’t sure what to tell the boy. As he fumbled for a response, Lance grinned again and reached for Keith’s other hand. Together, the two boys dragged Keith back out to the living room, where a medium-sized mountain of gifts was now beneath the tree. It looked like nearly everyone else was already in there, so Lance and Keith quickly found themselves seats on the small recliner, squishing close together to make room for each other. Keith knew he was turning red when he saw the quick smiles that were exchanged at that, but he refused to look like an idiot just to find another seat. Especially since Lance was sitting right next to him, giving him side-glances and offering a shy smile whenever their eyes met. he could feel the warmth of Lance’s body pressed against his own, and was surprised at how good it felt. Distracted as he was, he barely managed to catch the gift that came swinging at his head, pulling it from the air down to his lap.

“What are you waiting for?” Lance laughed when Keith just looked at it. “Open it!” He leaned in closer and confided, “It’s from me, so don’t worry too much.” Keith glanced up at him even as set the notecard attached off to the side and searched for a good place to begin tearing, and Lance winked at him cheerfully. Everyone else began to pass around gifts, as well, and, feeling sufficiently shielded from unwanted attention, he slowly pulled the gift from the wrapping paper.

It was a plush hippo. A pretty blue color, one that very strongly reminded Keith of Lance himself, since blue was his favorite color. Keith felt his breath catch as he remembered how once, a few months ago, before the two of them had started dating, Lance had bounced question after question at him, gathering useless bits of information. Keith had initially refused to answer, but Shiro had become so annoyed with Lance’s questions that he took over answering for Keith. Of course, this meant that Shiro had a golden opportunity to make Keith look stupid, and after Shiro told Lance that the last time Keith had wet his pants was in the 8th grade, Keith had snapped. Angrily, he cut in to correct this false information, and the game had continued, this time with Keith answering. One of those questions had indeed been Keith’s favorite animal, and he had been teased relentlessly about his choice for weeks after. Keith glanced down at the small note that had been on the outside of the package. ‘Your secret’s safe with me. I think it’s cute! Merry Christmas, Keith!’

 For the rest of the morning, Keith was amazed. Never before had he spent that much time working through Christmas presents. And even though he knew in his head it was because there was so many people gathered, he was also surprised to see that a fair amount of them were his. Lance had gathered up all his gifts from their friends so he would have some for the festivities, and there was even one from Shiro and another from Allura and her family. Lance’s family had even gotten in on it and given him some generic gifts. Now, he really was thankful that Lance had advised him to get some small things for random family members. Of course, he had planned on doing so anyway, but Lance had even gone out with Keith to help him find gifts. It was a happy mess of chaos and confusion, but everyone still enjoyed themselves. Keith found himself content to just observe how everybody interacted with each other, the concept of such a large family getting along so well still very foreign to him.

It wasn’t until almost two hours later that all of the gifts had finally been opened. Yet now that all of the excitement had died down, it seemed to Keith that Lance had lost all of his energy. His head kept bobbing forward, eyes closed and posture relaxed. Keith found himself grateful the other adults were too focused on the children running around, because this gave him a good opportunity to just watch Lance. After the fifth time Lance startled himself awake by nearly falling over, Keith chuckled. Lance turned bleary eyes on him, prepared to defend himself, but Keith simply grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch.

“What are you doing?” Lance squawked as he stumbled. The only reason he didn’t fall was because Keith still had a hold of his arm.

Keith winked at him, trying to ignore the blush springing to his cheeks as he mirrored an action that was so… Lance. “You’re going to hurt like hell if you fall asleep on the couch. Let’s get you up to the bed.”

“But. It’s – Christmas! What about Christmas?” Lance was still protesting, even though at this point, his eyes were shut again and he was relying solely on muscle memory and Keith’s guidance to get back up to the bedroom.

Keith huffed out a breath in irritation, but when he looked back at Lance trailing after him, he felt an even stronger wave of affection wash over him. But he brushed this off to adopt a stern tone. “Lance. Just a couple of hours. It’s still early, and it’ll still be Christmas when you wake up. I promise. I won’t let you sleep too late.”

Lance cracked open a single eye to study Keith for only a couple of seconds, though Keith wasn’t sure how effective that was. “You promise?” Lance mumbled.

“I literally just said that I did.” Lance didn’t say anything more in response to this, instead just pulled his blanket further over himself, clutching one of his own gifts closer to his chest. Keith focused on getting Lance safely up the stairs and then tucked him into bed, replaying the fuzzy memory of Lance doing the same for him the previous night. Once he finally got him settled, he reached for the blinds and blocked off the stubborn sunlight streaming in, turning back around when he heard Lance sleepily call his name.

“What is it, Lance?” Lance’s eyes were barely open – nothing more than slits – but that must’ve been good enough for him, because once Keith was within reach of him, Keith grabbed his hand and tugged him to the bed. “Okay, okay,” Keith chuckled and climbed back onto his own side of the bed. Lance was just as cuddly as he had been last night. He only pulled away to yank the gift he’d smuggled up with them out from under the covers, passing it to Keith with a yawn and a muttered, “Here. ‘S yours.” With that, Lance promptly fell asleep, occasionally wriggling and squirming, slowly inching closer and closer to Keith as he did so.

Keith stared at the blue hippo in his hands, surprised to find he could feel a small smile sliding across his face. Glancing next to him at the sleeping boy, he let out a soft sigh and reached for his phone, setting an alarm to wake them in a couple of hours so they could catch up on some well-deserved rest. Then he slid himself under the blankets and allowed Lance to wiggle his way to his side, feeling happy and peaceful the whole time.

[byerly-strange]

Something happens and will and mike get scared and hold each others' hand and someone gives them a Look but everyone in the party just. Glares at them

It was Halloween night of the party’s sophomore year.Usually they would have gone trick or treating and then just hung out in Mike’sdimly lit basement. With everyone huddled together in one massive blob watchingscary movies. Will and Lucas’ screams would fill the room as everyone else justlaughed how easily scared the two were; however, this year was going to bedifferent for them.

Ever since El had been allowed to join everyone in school thisyear, she had gotten massively popular with the boys. Her and Mike had decidedto be just friends that summer. She had looked at her life and decided what sheneeded wasn’t a boyfriend, but rather just friends. She had to figure out whoshe was outside of Hawkins Lab, and outside of the Upside Down before she couldfigure out who she was in a relationship. Her popularity and the allure of herbeing the “new kid on the block” had gotten her an invitation to a party, andsince Max was gorgeous and fiery, and standing right next to El, she also gotinvited. They had promptly turned this invitation for two into an invitationfor six through, what they called “just asking” but the rest of the party wasconvinced they threatened a kid. They could be quite persuasive together

Will had tried to get them all to turn down the invitation.He wasn’t a fan of crowds and knew that the people who made fun of him atschool would also be there. Lucas and Dustin though had made a valid argumentthat they should at least try a party, and that free alcohol would be betterthan stealing Mrs. Wheeler’s secret wine stash. Also, Mike suggesting that theycould go as Chris and Gordie from “Stand by Me” was a pretty good sellingpoint. They saw the movie in theaters and both loved it, so it was a greatcostume idea.

After everyone had convinced Will to go and costumes weredecided the next step was picking a designated driver which was simple. Maxdidn’t drink and was by far the best driver, so she was picked out naturally.When Halloween night came they had all agreed to get ready at Mike’s house forthe party, his parents were there but they never much cared if a bunch ofpuberty ridden teenagers filled their house.

“OKAY!” Mike was bounding down the stairs of his houseyelling. Will could see the smile across his face as he came down which madethe whole ordeal of going to the party worth it to Will. He ran over to Willand slung his arm around him awkwardly. Mike had shot up in the last few yearsand still didn’t seem to have full control over all his limbs, everything he didjust seemed kind of awkward. Will loved it. “How do I look Gordie?”

Will looked the lanky boy up and down. He had to admit theChris costume was pretty on point. Mike had put together a plain white t--shirtwith ripped jeans, which by itself wasn’t special it just looked like normalclothes, but the sleeves was rolled up around a box of what Will assumed wasNancy’s cigarettes. Pair that with Wills striped Gordie shirt and washed outjeans and they made for a pretty good looking pair of explorers.

“You look awesome, Mike. Like straight out of a Stephen Kingstory.” Mike’s smile spread till he was in full frog smile mode, he leaned downand wrapped Will into a quick hug.

“Thanks, and thanks for agreeing to come. I know you don’treally want to. But it will be fun, I promise. Just us, going to a party,acting like normal teenagers for once.” Mike’s smile had faded a little, it wasstill present though, lingering behind his words, giving Will a reassuringfeeling that made his heart skip a beat. Ever since Mike and El broke up therehad been this unspoken thing between Will and Mike, like the first half of ateen Rom-Com. Even Will hadn’t been so oblivious to notice the stolen glances andlonging looks.

Will had come out to his friends and family in freshmanyear, no one outside his small group knew he was gay for sure. didn’t stop themfrom speculating though; however, Mike’s sexuality was more up in the air. Hehad kind of told Will he liked him, and everyone could see the electricitybetween them, but nothing ever came from it. They would cuddle when theywatched movies, and seek comfort in each other but that was as far as they got.The party had kind of come to accept it and let the two take things at theirown pace, which, if Will was being honest, was actually just Mikes pace.

“Anything for you.” Will blushed, “And for everyone else ofcourse” This gave Mike a devilish grin.

“Of course...” His grin spread as he took a quick pause,“EVERY-one.” The extra annunciation on every caused them both to giggle, and itwasn’t until El spoke up that they realized they’d been so entranced inconversation that everyone was staring at them.

“Are you two done...uh,” she looked around at everyone tohelp provide her with the word she needed. Lucas grinned cause he had the wordand was very please with himself that he could provide it.

“Fllllirting.” He added a little extra something to theword, really making it clear that he was lightly teasing his two friends.

“Yeah, flirting. If you two are finally done flirting can weget on the road? Max spent an hour on her hair and it would be a real shame ifnone of those mouth breathers could see her and Lucas together.” It was almoststrange how fast El had gotten used to being in high school. She was still thesame vindictive El with a strong sense of justice, but she had become waybetter at not needing her powers to hurt people. Now she just needed a fewchoice words, or a small little set-up to grind the gears of the people shedidn’t like.

“Oh! Will you two shut up. Yes, we are done, it’s not myfault we are running late too. Max took an hour getting her hair to look likeMolly Ringwald’s, or that Dustin took two hours trying to look like RiskyBusiness.” Mike giggled as Max floofed her hair and Dusting just ran a handthrough his.

“Screw you man! We look good, and you can’t convince me anydifferent.” Dustin struck a pose to truly over emphasize his statement.

“Correction, Max looks good. You look like someone loweredyour hair on you like Darth Vader’s helmet.” Lucas put his arm around Max, hispurple Prince suit shining in the light. as the group burst out laughing andDustin flipped him off.

“Okay, Okay boys. It is time to go.” Max hurried everyoneout the door and into the car that she was borrowing from her parents. It wasonly supposed to seat 5 so Will had to sit on Mike’s lap. “Everyone ready?” Maxasked, but didn’t wait for answer before she put the car in reverse and spedout of the drive way.

At the party everyone kind of split up. El and She-Racostume split off to the dance floor where she was quickly surrounded by abunch of boys she showed no interest in. Dustin followed her to keep hercompany while she dance so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable by herself. Max andLucas split off to go play beer pong, the two of them were a team to bereckoned with, the party had learned that one night when they had practicedwith water and the two of them never lost a game.

Will and Mike went over to get a drink. Mike grabbed a beerand Will grabbed whatever juice the party had, he knew it had alcohol, but hedidn’t much care what if it would help him deal with the crowd. It wasn’t untilthe 5’3”, 95-pound boy had drunk 3 cups that Mike realized that the juice wasgetting Will super drunk.

“He-hey Mike.” Will managed to get out through his hiccups.“We should, we should go,” Another hiccup, “dance.” He leaned on Mike forsupport as he grabbed his arm and began walking him towards El and Dustin whohadn’t left the dance floor in the 30 minutes they’d all gotten there.

“Are you sure buddy? This isn’t really your scene.” Mike,who was still on his first beer, couldn’t believe that little William Byers wasdragging him out to dance to “Party All the Time”.

“Oh, cooome on, Mikey!!! It’s a party! Even I can enjoyshitty music as long as I am dancing.” He continued to pull Mike towards thesea of drunken teenagers who were dancing in the middle of the hosts livingroom.

They danced for what seemed like hours. The two of thementhralled completely in each other and no one else, not even El or Dustinseemed to be able to bring their attention away from each other. OccasionallyWill would leave to get a drink and Mike would follow. Eventually Will trippedover the stairs, spilling his drink on some poor girl, and Mike decided it wastime to call it a night.

“Awwww, come on Mikey!! I said I was sorry.” Even drunk Willnever slurred his words, the kid’s drunk speak was something to be admired.

“Nah, let’s go find Max and Lucas and get everyone home. Wehave been here for almost 2 and half hours anyway.” Mike was pushing Willtowards the door leading to the basement. Dustin and El had seen the wholespilling incident and knew that it was best to follow Mike and keep drunk Willsafe. “Okay man, one step at a time here we g-”

“I can do it Mike! I don’t need your coddling.” Will pushedhimself off Mike and quickly hurried down the stairs. Mike gaped how quickly hewas moving at first but followed him as soon as he saw him almost fall down. Theywere almost to the bottom when two boys jumped out at Will. He jumped backquickly and latched his hand onto mikes as he screamed.

“HOLY CRAP!” He squeezed Mike’s hand tightly , and did whathe always did when he was startled, almost swear. “YOU FRICKIN’ PRICKS!”

“Those are some colorful words there Byer’s. You are reallyhitting us where it hurts.” The boy who Mike could only assume was Troy fromthe sound of his voice, his face hidden by a mask. “And aww look at you holdingyour boyfriends hand.”  Will and Mike noticedeveryone begin to glare at them. Will tried to pull his hand away, but Miketightened his grip, it was time. “HEY EVERYONE, LOOK AT THE LITTLE FA-” He wascut off by quick punch from Max right to his face.

“Shut the fuck up Troy. I will turn your ass to grass if youkeep fucking with my friends.” Max pushed him away from Will and Mike to givethem space. “And if anyone else has a problem with my friends either me, orher,” She gestured to El, “will give you a whole lot worse to worry about thantwo boys holding hands. And I hope for your guys sake that you only have todeal with me, ‘cause she is a whole lot scarier.” With that she grabbed Lucas’hand and shuffled everyone out.

Will was still startled by everything that had justhappened, all he really knew was how right Mike’s hand felt in his. The warmthand comfort that radiated throughout his whole body just from the small amountof contact. He held it all the way until they reached Max’s car. Where afterbeing promptly sat in Mike’s lap he leaned in and whispered something. Not loudenough for Dustin to hear them from the middle seat, or Lucas to hear them fromshotgun, just something for the two of them.

“Thank you” Will placed a chaste kiss on Mike’s lips, he wassure that he tasted like fruity alcohol and smelled like rum, but he didn’tmuch care. He just felt safe in this moment and decided to go for it. It wasWill’s second kiss, first with a boy, and first since he got out of the first grade.He pulled away after just a few seconds, but a few seconds was all it took forhis breath to be taken away. It wasn’t taken away by the terrible smell of beeron Mike’s breath, or the smell of liquor that was filling the whole car. It wasfrom the feeling of Mike’s chapped lips on his own. The grin that Will couldfeel Mike’s lips turn too after just a few seconds. His breath was taken awayby everything Mike did.

“UGH… get a room you two! Max can you drive faster beforethey start making out right next to us.” Dustin made a little face which gothim a look from El, telling him to leave the two boys alone.

“Max can you drive a little slower so that Will and I canmake out right next to Dustin.”

“Is that what we are doing? Making out in a car filled withpeople?” Will was still drunk, he knew it now too, and the mix of alcohol andeuphoric feeling of kissing Mike was making him bolder than usual.

“Only if you want to, don’t wanna go to fast for you.”

“Well damn Mikey, if I had known we were going at my pacethis would’ve happened months ago.”

“Then let’s get to it.” Mike smiled and leaned in, placingWill’s second kiss of the night on his lips. They both ignored Dustin’s groansas they drove towards Mike’s house. To enthralled in each other to notice whenthey pulled in. 

[wellesleyunderground]

WU Reviews: The Problem With Apu by Shelly Anand '08 (@shellypolitik) & Shloka Ananthanarayanan '08 (@shlokes)

(Source)

Hari Kondabolu is a New York-based stand-up comic. He is also of Indian origin and therefore has a long-standing gripe with the character of Apu in The Simpsons. His hour-long documentary, The Problem With Apu, features conversations with South Asian actors, Simpsons writers, and people on the street, some of whom were genuinely flabbergasted that their favorite character on The Simpsons is voiced by a white guy (Hank Azaria, who refused to be a part of this documentary).

‘08 alums Shelly and Shloka are both Indian women living in America but with very different backgrounds. Shelly was born and raised in the American South (what up ATL alums) while Shloka grew up in Bahrain surrounded by Indian immigrants and only moved to New York when she was a teenager, where she went to an international high school. Below are their takes on The Problem with Apu, which are only two of the myriad reactions people across the South Asian diaspora may end up having to this documentary.

Shloka:

I already knew what I was getting into when I started watching this documentary. I’ve seen some of Hari Kondabolu’s stand-up so I was fully aware of the premise. What startled me was his personal story of why he hated Apu so much. Turns out, as a kid growing up in America, apparently people would just yell out “Hey Apu!” or “Thank you come again!” if they saw a brown person? I never experienced that kind of overt racism growing up (also The Simpsons wasn’t particularly big in Bahrain), so while I’ve personally never really cared about that character, this documentary made me much more angry on behalf of all the brown folk who did face discrimination because of Apu.

Shelly:

I am a big fan of Hari and was excited for him to tackle this topic in a documentary; I had seen him first address the problem with Apu on W. Kamau Bell’s show Totally Biased a couple of years ago. I definitely related to what Hari and the other featured South Asian actors and comedians had to say about growing up with the Apu stereotype. I do recall being asked if my parents owned a gas station or a 711. When my father became CEO of a company in his field (electrical engineering), a manager came up to him and said something along the lines of he thought Indian people only worked and/or owned Dunkin Donuts, to which my father responded “I’d be happy to help you find a job there.” (Go Papa!). #radbrowndad

We dealt with a lot of racism living in the South. People were always making fun of my mom’s accent--from her patients (she’s a psychiatrist) to clerks in stores--and she still deals with this racism to this day. My dad felt the pressures of assimilation and actively got rid of his accent by impersonating radio djs. People at times think he is second generation like me because he no longer has an accent and now has lived here for most of his life. The only time it comes out is when he is code switching, sitting with family and friends, in a safe space where he can be his true self. I wish I could say that “The Problem of Apu” was a thing of the past but it has gotten worse in the post-9/11 current Trump world. Even today, I have had people do the Indian head bob or do a fake Indian accent thinking it is funny. Of course, the accent and head bobs are just one of many issues South Asian kids face in the U.S. Having non-Christian religions (Hinduism, Jainism, Sikhism, Islam, to name a few) made us subject to ridicule and still does to this day. And Indian food and yoga weren’t so cool when we were growing up. Our whole identity and culture was under attack. It still is today, with Islamophobia, continual ignorance over non-Western religions (Sikhs and Hindus being subject to Islamophobia because we’re brown and have turbans), and cultural appropriation of food and religion (ahem, YOGA and that chicken tikka masala bullshit, oh and don’t get me started on “chai tea”). I am excited to see not only more representation of desis on American film and television, but am grateful for folx like Hari that use their platform to address the issues us desi kids faced growing up.

Shloka:

The Problem with Apu addresses a number of problems. First, there’s the idea of how this character even came to be. There are conflicting stories about whether the writer thought that an Indian store owner was a complete stereotype, but had to concede when Hank Azaria came out with the voice and a room full of white guys laughed. Azaria himself didn’t take part in this documentary and continues to do the voice all over the place, despite a half-hearted attempt at acknowledging its racist undertones in an old HuffPo article. Then there’s the problem of representation. People argue that The Simpsons has broad stereotypes of Italians or Scottish people, so why be so fixated on Apu? 

Kondabolu’s rebuttal (of course) is that there are nuanced portrayals of Italians and Scots all over TV and movies. Whereas for the longest time, the only representation of an Indian in American media was this servile store clerk who bought into every stereotype under the sun. Kondabolu proposes a number of ways The Simpsons could redeem themselves - have a brown actor do the voice, add some new South Asian characters who demonstrate other aspects of the diaspora, or just kill off Apu and be done with the whole mess once and for all. Sadly, I doubt any of these will come to pass. When he interviews his own parents, they have a weary sense of resignation - they came to this country and did what they had to do. They think Apu is a terrible portrayal, but to them, they have fought many other battles and this question of media representation pales in comparison to their real journey to buy in to the American dream.

Shelly:

It definitely seemed like the goal of the film was for him to go head to head with Hank Azaria. I don’t know if the problem of Apu can really be resolved with respect to the show. It’s been, what, almost 30 years since the show was started? Does anyone ever watch the Simpsons anymore? The Problem with Apu isn’t the Simpsons itself, but that it started this trend where it was acceptable to mock and ridicule South Asian people for the way they talk and their professions. The film discusses how the Apu caricature made it really really difficult to be an South Asian actor in this country; most of the actors and comedians Hari interviews talk about how they  have been expected to audition for roles (btw Aziz Ansari addresses this issue really well in Season 1 of Master of None). I learned about the term “patanking” for the first time, which is the stereotypical accent, head-bob, caricature South-Asian actors are often asked to portray when offered miniscule roles (like taxi driver, 711 owner etc.)

However, I wish there was more discussion of how the caricature of Apu effects South Asian immigrants like our parents. There are many South Asian immigrants who own and/or work in gas stations and hotels. How does the Problem of Apu impact them? I know here in Georgia, there are a number of South Asians who own gas stations in rural areas and many of their lives have been threatened because of xenophobia. While the actors complain about playing gas station owners and taxi drivers, they don’t complain about the stereotype of the model minority myth, playing doctors, lawyers, tech startup bros, etc. There is an element of classism to all of this. We are fine with the model minority myth (that we are successful immigrants) but not with the prospect of someone assuming that we are working class.

I did appreciate how the documentary placed Apu in the historical context of ridiculing and mocking people of color in the United States specifically with respect to Blackface. Whoopi Goldberg is interviewed and talks blackface in Hollywood at the turn of 20th century. At one point Hari asked Whoopi if Apu could be considered blackface and she confirms that it is. I remember a couple of years ago, Popchips did a commercial with Ashton Kutcher, who literally painted his face brown and did an indian accent. I know when I was growing up, something like that would have been seen as acceptable, but celebrities like Himanshu Suri (of Das Racist and Swet Shop Boys fame) called it out and I believe Popchips ended up pulling the ad. That was really affirming for me.

Shloka:

This documentary is only an hour-long and I can see why. There isn’t really much meat to this story and after a while it does get a bit repetitive and seems to be stating the obvious. But again, I’m a liberal brown person. The people who really ought to be watching this are the ones who never will. I think it would be eye-opening for a lot of people who are oblivious to the challenges minorities face in day-to-day life. While I found myself growing bored of the Apu premise, I loved how many South Asian people from all walks of life were interviewed in this movie, from the former Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, to comedienne, Aparna Nancherla. And this speaks to my ongoing thirst to see more brown people on TV. I don’t watch The Simpsons and I think Apu is a ridiculous character. But as more South Asians emerge on screen in shows like The Mindy Project or Master of None, they are filling a void in the media landscape that I never acknowledged before. 

While I’ve never been openly discriminated against, I’ve had moments when people made assumptions about me because I was brown or were shocked that my “English is so good.” Sometimes their assumptions are right, but sometimes they’re wrong, and it is frustrating as a minority to not be given the privilege to be my own person instead of immediately being put in a box. When I talk to a white person, I treat them like an individual being and don’t categorize them right off the bat, because I have seen thousands of different representations of white people in the movies and TV. But when a white person is talking to me, are they immediately thinking I might be like Apu and I have to convince them otherwise? What a terrifying prospect.

Shelly:

It was definitely repetitive and it also focused on just one small facet of the myriad of issues South Asians and South Asian Americans face with respect to discrimination in this country. Not only are our [assumed] accents ridiculed, but our lives are threatened because of religion [either real or perceived] and because we are from non-European immigrant community. I can’t tell you the number of times my mother has heard “go back to your country.” Hell, I was called a “foreign dyke bitch” in North Carolina in a grocery store parking lot (what a trifecta!). The mockery of the accent is indicative of a larger theme that many of us in the immigrant community face: you don’t belong here. I wish that was addressed a bit more. We also have our own dirty laundry in the community-- shadeism and anti-black racism. Not that we need to do a documentary airing our dirty laundry but identity is a complicated beast (not to mention others like caste, Islamophobia from non-Muslim South Asians etc.).

Overall, I am happy the film exists and happy that the caricature of desi folx has been placed in the context of other discriminatory caricatures like black face -- I think that link is critical to helping the desi community build foundations of solidarity with the black community and other communities of color in the U.S. I see Hari’s film as the tip of the iceberg and I’m excited to see more.

[remedialpotions]

Heya! So, for your four word prompts, how about "I'm not wearing that" and/or "I need to go"? I don't think you've done either of those...?

Thanks for the prompts! The other one will follow (eventually) in a separate post… and wow, this one got away from me a bit, can you still call it a drabble if it’s 1300 words? Whoops… Hope you like it 💕

***

I Need To Go

Harry and Ron had taken to sharing Pigwidgeon during the early months after the war, partly because Harry had not yet been able to bring himself to replace Hedwig and partly because all of their letters were going to and from the same place: Hogwarts to Grimmauld Place and back again. Always eager to make a delivery, the minuscule owl never minded the extra cargo, instead flying enthusiastically into the Great Hall at breakfast and depositing shoddily-folded bits of parchment into Hermione’s and Ginny’s laps. The first Tuesday of October, however, only one letter fell from the owl’s beak next to a plate of buttered toast.

“Oh, no, Pig, did you drop one?” asked Hermione as Ginny unfolded the letter, the little bird landing on her shoulder. “Who’s that from?”

“Harry,” Ginny said slowly, her face draining of color, “but it’s for you.”

Hermione’s head snapped over at Ginny’s rattled voice.

“What? Let me see that.”

Snatching the letter for herself, Hermione began to read, ignoring that Ginny was now nursing a sizable paper cut on her finger.

Hermione, Before you panic, let me start by saying that everything’s going to be fine, but I reckoned you should know that Ron’s in St. Mungo’s - and it’s nothing serious, it’s just that we were in training and I cast a curse and it rebounded and it hit him - I’m SO SORRY - and the Healers say there shouldn’t be any permanent damage and he’ll be fine once he wakes up. I just knew you’d want to know and they say he should wake up and be back to normal (or, back to being Ron, anyway) in a day at the most. I’ll keep you updated. Actually, Ron will, because he’ll be fine, and please don’t worry or do anything crazy. - Harry

Hermione felt like her bones had turned to dust. Harry could sugarcoat it as much as he wanted, but the truth was right there: Ron was lying in St. Mungo’s, cursed and unconscious, and Hermione was thousands of miles away at Hogwarts, trapped there by magical wards and her own obligations. The thought was too much to take. There had been so many times in the past when she had thought that she’d never see him again, that she would lose him before she ever really had him, and now it was happening again.

“It says he’s going to be completely fine-” began Ginny bracingly as Pigwidgeon hopped down to the table and nibbled on a slice of toast.

“I need to go,” Hermione muttered, almost tripping in her haste to vacate the table. Several students stared after her, perplexed, as she rushed out of the Great Hall and up to the third floor. Her feet could hardly carry her quickly enough; what if, in the time it took the the smallest owl in England to fly from London to the Scottish Highlands, something had changed? What if the Healers were wrong? She and Ron had barely even gotten started. Their summer together had been brilliant, even in the aftermath of the war, but they’d been separated now for only a month and this had already happened, and if she lost him-

“Harpies,” Hermione gasped to the stone gargoyle standing guard outside of the Headmaster’s quarters. As she knew it would, the gargoyle stepped aside so Hermione could bolt up the circular staircase and into the office.

Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk at Hermione’s entrance, startled by the sudden intrusion.

“Miss Granger, what’s-”

“Professor,” Hermione began, breathless, “I’m so sorry to ask you this, I know I’m Head Girl and I know I need to be here, but it’s just-” She paused, trying to determine a way to word her request without sounding like a boy-crazed teenager. “Ron’s in hospital, he’s at St. Mungo’s, he accidentally got cursed during training, and I know I shouldn’t be asking this, and it’s completely ridiculous to think I should just be leaving the castle whenever I please, but if there’s any way at all that I could go there, even just for an hour or so - and I completely understand if that’s not acceptable-”

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall repeated patiently, eyes twinkling behind square-shaped glasses. “You’re welcome to use my fireplace.”

“I am?”

“Be back in the morning, please.”

“I - really?”

“Yes, and go on before I change my mind,” added the Headmaster, gesturing toward the fireplace in the back of the office.

“Oh, thank you, Professor, thank you so much, I promise I won’t be long-”

And she was still gushing her gratitude as she scooped up a handful of Floo Powder, stopping only to declare her destination and send herself swirling through the acid-green flames.

Hermione didn’t stop at the receptionist in the lobby of the hospital, instead proceeding directly to the fourth floor - Spell Damage. The mere thought made her stomach churn; this same ward housed the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart and the Longbottoms.

Ron’s room, she learned from a Healer who was passing by with a large tray of potions, was a private one at the end of the hall, and she set off for it, beyond desperate to see him.

To her knee-buckling relief, Ron was awake when she burst through the door, propped up against several pillows in his bed, while Harry sat reading a pamphlet on proper cauldron-cleaning technique in a chair next to him. The pair of them had drastically different reactions to Hermione’s arrival: Ron’s eyes lit up, while Harry looked exasperated at best.

“I told you that everything was fine-” said Harry irritably as Hermione strode toward them.

“And you should have known I wouldn’t accept that,” replied Hermione curtly before turning her attention to Ron. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, a smile breaking through the exhaustion on his features. “I’m all right, this git’s not that good at curses, anyway.”

He was awake, he was alive, and he was already poking fun at Harry. He was, as promised, completely back to normal. Hermione ducked down and pressed a gentle kiss on Ron’s lips, a long-absent warmth flooding through her at the contact; Harry pretended to be deeply interested in various types of scrub brushes.

“How on earth did you manage to get here?” asked Ron as Hermione perched on the edge of his bed.

“McGonagall let me use her Floo,” admitted Hermione. “I might have panicked a bit.”

“Which is exactly what I told you not to do,” Harry chimed in. “Ron, I’m going to go tell your parents that you’re awake now, we’ll probably be back in a few hours, all right?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“And I’m really, really sorry,” Harry added, looking sheepish.

“Yeah, well, you oughta be,” Ron grinned. “See you later, mate.”

The second the door closed, Hermione took the liberty of settling against the pillows next to Ron, her head on his shoulder.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” she asked, resting a hand lightly on his chest.

“No, not at all, I’m just tired.” Ron placed his hand over hers, linking their fingers. “And I love you for it, but you didn’t have to come all the way here, I know you’ve got your classes-”

“I can handle a few absences,” Hermione asserted, “what I can’t handle is-” She broke off, unable to put her worst fear into words. “I just needed to be here.” She felt him exhale, then touch his lips to the top of her head. “I just have to be back by tomorrow morning.”

“So I have a whole day with you?” Ron said brightly. “Brilliant, maybe I should get cursed more often.”

***

you can find more four word prompts here!

[preeshera]

If Love Be Blind

Chapter 4

Angsty multi-chapter love square monstrosity (you have been warned)

(Chapter 1) (read on AO3) (I owe my life and sanity to my lovely beta Bell! Special thanks to Tala who is a sweetheart and indulges my ML rants)

Summary:

‘Marinette’s life is slipping through her fingertips, all the dreams and plans she made for herself shattered, as she falls deeper and deeper into misery.

What happened to Ladybug’s famous luck?

And could there be a way to bring it back? … a certain black cat, perhaps? Only time will tell.’

It was his hand that turned her world to ashes, but he must never know

-----

   “Bullshit. Ever-fucking crap-covered hell!” Marinette exhaled heavily, her shoulders sagging in frustration. She was supposed to be happy to be home. Sure. She was in pain, completely blind,  treated like a ticking bomb by her parents, and couldn’t even make it to the bathroom without knocking something over, but she was home.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes as she gripped at the piece of furniture she bumped into. See, all the blind people in movies somehow automatically knew where they were going, but that, she quickly learned, was some rotten Hollywood propaganda.

As if she were supposed to magically know the layout of her entire house by heart the second she lost sight. Well , Marinette thought bitterly, her brain must have not gotten the memo.

She sat down hard on the tile floor and let the tears run free. Crying-that’s the only thing she was good at anymore.

‘Cheer up, Marinette,’ Tikki spoke up softly from above her.

Yeah, right. Easier said than done.

The stupid bandages itched and her head still hurt in irregular intervals, but apparently, she was well enough not to be on the good drugs anymore.

Marinette sighed. She hated this, all of it. Hated how she was angry all the time. Hated the noise, the dark, the stabbing pain behind her eyelids anytime she tried to lie down to sleep. Chat’s visit the other day made her feel so much better. She wished she could just go out and...

“Tikki, say, are my parents busy right now?”

The kwami pursed her lips disapprovingly, but Marinette wouldn’t have cared even if she could see – which she couldn’t.

‘ Last I checked they were downstairs in the bakery, but I don’t think –” but the kwami never got to finish her sentence.

“Tikki, spots on!”

  Flying on her yo-yo through Parisian streets was an amazing feeling. Marinette felt that she hadn’t truly appreciated being Ladybug before.

Sure, there were the akumas and the danger; she knew that better than most. But even gray and cloudy, the vast expanse of the evening sky sang to her. She could finally see. Screw plain, boring, blind Marinette – she was Ladybug. She was a superhero. She could do anything.

Chat’s crimson eyes flashed in her mind, and she startled so badly she missed a step and twisted her ankle painfully, crashing down onto an empty roof. She shook as the memory took over. Distorted and unreal, it took a shape of her nightmares and  overtook her senses.

Chat Noir was walking towards her. His black suit looked different, darker somehow. It was bulkier in the shoulders and made him look imposing. Monster-like. He smirked at her, but his teeth looked too sharp. His eyes were all wrong. Not warm, not laughing, but red – like blood.

Marinette shook like a leaf.

Then she realized her shaking legs weren’t covered in the polka-dotted red and black of her suit. She wasn’t Ladybug, just herself. Just Marinette.

Chat let loose a cold, disturbing laugh.

“My Lady.” he crooned, faux-sweetness, like venom, dripping from the words.

“My Lady?”

“Buginette?! What happened? Are you okay?!”

The warm, familiar voice colored with so much fright and concern was what finally brought her out of the episode. This was her Chat   – this bright, warm, friendly presence. Not that horrible nightmare.

“Ladybug?”

Marinette shook off like a wet dog and tried to piece her confident Ladybug persona back together.

“Hey Chaton,” she said softly and met the familiar pair of bright green eyes after a beat of hesitation.

“Don’t just ‘Hey Chaton’ me! What happened LB? You looked totally terrified there...” He was drawing in a breath to continue on his rant, but stopped at the look on her face.

“I am sorry I worried you, Chat Noir. I am still a bit shaken by the last attack, that’s all.”

His expression turned somber.

“Have I told you that I am sorry?”

“No! Chat you know it wasn’t your fault!”

“I used my Cataclysm on you, you could have died!”

“And I didn’t. It wasn’t you, it was the akuma, and you know it – just like you knew it all those other times. I am fine, really.”

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being Ladybug was helping her mood anymore. She swung her yo-yo around and pushed off the rooftop without a single look back.

“See you at patrol, Minou.”

  The moment she de-transformed she fell prone to the floor. Part of it was the banging headache caused by the meds Lady-bugging out of her system. Part was her general lack of will to attempt to get anywhere like this.

After a few beats, her head cleared a smidge, and she almost went to sit up, when she heard a strange noise from down below.

She realized where she landed must be directly above the kitchen, and straining her ears to focus as much as she could, she heard the whispered argument from downstairs.

“Sabine, you can’t mean to lie to her forever.” She covered her mouth. Daddy never argued with mom. It was always her chiding him for something or other.

“She is not ready for another set of bad news. Tom, she barely gets up in the morning. She doesn’t eat properly. What good would it do to tell her?”

There was a beat of silence, and Marinette could feel tears pricking her eyes underneath the bandage. Her parents, her loving, amazing, supportive parents were arguing because of her.

“False hope doesn’t help anyone. She needs to accept her condition and learn how to move on, Sabine. We all do.”

With a gasp Marinette realized her mom was crying.

Enough.

She shot up to her feet and after fumbling for a few steps she threw herself in the general direction of her bed.

Accept her condition? Move on? They had no idea, Marinette realized. Her parents thought she believed her blindness was only temporary. They thought she didn’t know!

Well, yes, it was easy to pretend with the bandages pressing heavy over her eyes, but Marinette wasn’t stupid. Cataclysm to the fucking face doesn’t just heal.

Not overnight. And probably not ever. If Tikki couldn’t heal her she doubted some conventional medicine had a shot.

But they thought she didn’t know. How could she have?

And they’re arguing about how to tell me... Marinette thought grimly. Her musings, however, were cut short by footsteps coming up the stairs towards her room.

Marinette focused on the footsteps, but she had honestly no idea. Seriously, popular culture gave her such unrealistic expectations for this. A soft knock on the door echoed around her quiet room.

“Come in!”

“Hello dear, how are you feeling?” Mom drew the short straw, then.

“Okay. Blind.” Marinette said dryly, then instantly regretted it.

“I am sorry mama, I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days – I feel so angry all the time.”

Warm arms wrapped around her and her mother’s comforting smell calmed her down.

“Here, it’s okay love, it’s okay. I am pretty sure you are not the first teenager to ever snap at her mom. Given the situation, I would say you have more reasons than most.”

Marinette nodded, lips pursed.

“Do you feel like coming down? Your father and I need to talk to you about some things. It can wait if you are tired, or –”

“No, mom, I’m fine. Help me down?”

Marinette let herself be led by the hand like a child and tried her best not to feel too bitter about it. She could just about make it into the kitchen on her own these days. She asked her parents not to move furniture around and leave things in her path so she could move around on her own. Sadly, they all forgot about it way too often for her to be sure she could make the longer trips through the house unscathed.

It was probably a good thing that Marinette couldn’t see her parents just then. Sabine’s blotchy red eyes and Tom’s worried, tired look wouldn’t have made the upcoming talk any easier.

“Marinette, your father and I,” her mom started, but her voice broke, “your father and I need to tell you something important.”

I know mama. I know, it’s okay, Marinette wanted to say, but she remained silent and still.

“We decided to move away from Paris.”

Wait. Rage bubbled inside her like hot lava.

“What? What do you mean move away?!” Marinette demanded angrily, “why would you do that? And what about the bakery? Mom you can’t be serious!”

“Calm down, Marinette,” her father pleaded.

“We found an amazing institute that could help you, and we decided it is worth moving for.”

“ You decided?! Well that’s just grand, isn’t it. None of you thought to ask the poor, blind Marinette what she thought about it, have you?!”

She was screaming now, but she didn’t care.

“Well if you think I will let you abandon all your dreams and hard work just because of me, you are wrong. I will stay in Paris alone if I have to. I am not going anywhere!”

Her father was about to say something, but she stood up, storming off into her room. If she knocked over a chair or two on her way, or stubbed her toe on the stairs, it really was nobody’s business but her own.

I will not let them do this , she seethed internally once she finally made it into her room.

I just won’t allow it! Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to restrain the angry tears threatening to spill.

You won’t allow it? How cute. A cruel little voice piped up inside her head. And what exactly do you think you can do about it?

Marinette bit her lip.

Arms extended in front of her she made her way towards her table, there she pawed at the smooth wood for a second before managing to locate her phone.

She unlocked it with her thumb and calmed her shaking voice to activate the voice recognition:

“Hey Cortana? Call Alya Cesaire, please!”

Three beeps later her best friend picked up with a wall of blabber.

“Marinette? Are you okay? Is everything alright? Are you hurt? Do I need to come over?!”

“ALYA!”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” her friend apologized sheepishly, “Chilling out. Sorry. No overcompensating – I remember what you said the last time.”

Marinette sighed.

“I need my awesome, smart, incredible best friend to work a miracle for me. Is she there, or is this my new helicopter mother talking?”

Alya grumbled.

“So, which one is it?”

“Your best friend, always.” she replied dutifully. “So what is it, Mari, you sound kinda, well, mad?”

“It’s my parents. They want us to move away from Paris - to some village that has this amazing institute for blind kids.”

There was a beat of silence.

“That sucks. But maybe the new school will be super great for you, and, and I can always come to visit, right? I’ll drag Nino, and Adrien with me! And Juleka, Rose and Alix will want to come too, I –”

“No!” Marinette stopped her resolutely.

“No? You don’t want us to visit?” Alya asked, her voice tiny.

“No, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to move away, and I don’t want to go to some super special school for blind kids. I want my old life back - okay? I know that I can’t see now, okay, I know! But plenty of people can’t, and they aren’t all locked away in some institutes in the countryside !”

Stunned silence followed suit.

“Mari, I...” Alya started gently, but Marinette interrupted her again.

“Alya – I don’t need your pity! God knows I have enough by myself. What I really need right now is my best friend to help me find some way around this. I know my parents don’t really want to leave. The bakery is their life Alya. And I don’t want to take that away, not because of this.”

“I get it, Mari, I do. I will go do some research – I promise I will find something!”

The new fire in Alya’s voice spread warmth of relief in Marinette’s belly. Finally. Her best friend was back.

They could do this.

   -----

[shelivesinthewoods]

The Beginning of the End

The Royal Romance Drake x MC Rating: eh I'll go with PG13 cause I think there's an f-bomb or something. This was written before the most recent chapter because I was pretty unsatisfied with the previous one and because I've been pretty unhappy about MC and her being unable to not flirt with Liam. I'm toying with a part two. Maybe three. Meh. We'll see. The day of the coronation ball had come. Olivia was her normal mean mouth self, Hana was as sweet as always and Alix had spent too much if her travel money on a beautiful dress (again😰) she was however on auto pilot. This... Today was supposed to be the day they learned who won this competition. The day of the pay out in the prince's hand as well as the Cordonian crown. Honestly, she wasn't certain how she'd even gotten to this point. Sure, she'd come for the competition... well, truthfully she'd come for the travel opportunity-- that wasn't to say that she didn't genuinely like Liam, they'd had a spark in New York and she'd been interested to see if it might ignite. Liam was a doll. Truly a prince in all senses of the word. She hadn't actually expected to become one of the front runners. In fact, she'd mostly anticipated being more or less shunned. Instead, she'd made better friends than she even had back home. Surprising, right? Both Hana and Maxwell were nobles but had accepted her with open arms. Drake... Drake was a commoner too but much more versed in nobility and subsequently more cynical. He was grumpy and bitter; sometimes downright mean, but never really to her. Cynical, absolutely... mean, no. If all people, she hadn't expected to find a kindred spirit in him. What had come after that friendship... *That* realization had blind sided her. She'd come to Cordonia to see if she could love Liam... and she did... just not the way she was supposed to. She cared about him... loved him... but she wasn't *in* love with him. No. No... against all odds (and her better sense of reason), she'd gone and fallen in love with his grump ass best friend. Liam on the other hand had started to tell her his feelings on multiple occasions. Each time, they were interrupted. So, maybe not meant to be. Really really not meant to be. Even so, she'd managed to gain favor from the press, the ladies of the court... his parents. A part of her wishes she felt more, but you couldn't help who you loved... or who you didn't. She knew she should have nipped things before they'd gotten so far, but she didn't want to let anyone down. Maxwell and Bertrand were depending on her. Liam needed someone less crabby than his best friend to "vent" to at times. Hana needed a friend in the court and Drake... he needed a friend who wasn't a prince. She related to him in some ways simply in their similarities. She was not an extrovert; though clearly not as antisocial as he was- she'd never put herself out for people either. Yet one more reason she had no idea how she'd made an impression, let alone a good one. Alix stared blankly into the mirror as she took great effort in curling her blonde, purple and blue hair into ringlets- making sure that the sporadic highlights were tucked into the curls. She's already done her make up, covered her freckles-- turned herself into the now familiar stranger in front of her. She'd lost a bit of herself with this competition.. cover the freckles, hide the hair colors, temper the personality that made her who she was. Today, this was the first time she'd noticed how sad her eyes looked... even with her crappy job and apartment in New York she's at least been content. A movement behind her caught her attention and gave her a startle; her green eyes darted up meeting brown and her heart gave a soft thump. Drake's features were readable for once- wide eyes, mouth slightly open and she was reasonably certain she read him mouthing, 'Wow.' He managed to school his features back to aloof when he realized she'd noticed his presence. She did the same with her features, cooler. Still friendly-ish. "How long have you been back there lurking, creeper?" Drake's lips turned up into a smirk, "Long enough. You look..." his words failed him. In this dress, with the hair and make up, she looked every bit the queen she would become. A reminder of why he'd stayed scarce since their time alone together in the Beaumont's study. "You look perfect." He muttered, his hands curling into fists in his suit pockets. The moments he had with her... the moments that meant the most to him were when she wasn't perfect. The skiing race. Their jaunt into the woods in the snow storm, when laughed at herself for almost falling overboard at the regatta. So many others. Sunburns and freckles. Colorful hair and fun. Always the moments in between. Her head tilted minutely. "Why are you here, Drake?" All of a sudden even to her own ears, she sounded very tired. She was relatively certain she already knew. "You already have put this together, I'm sure, but what happened in that study was a mistake. I should have never..." Alex winced when he called it... them... a mistake. She didn't feel that sharing her feelings while still at the Apple festival or in the study had been a mistake. "You didn't." She replied her gaze going distant again as she put another curl into her hair. "I did. I, however, don't regret it." Drake blinked, clearly not expecting those words. 'Blind obedience, quiet agreement, Drake? Clearly you haven't been paying attention.' " I don't regret how I feel, or making it known. I'm sorry you disagree." "That's not.. you know I-" he took a breath, wishing he'd thought to bring his flask with him. He could really use a drink right now. Of course she wouldn't make this easy. "It isn't that easy, Klein. Liam... Liam's happiness-" he trailed off. One perfect eyebrow arched, "Takes precedence over your own." His jaw squared, "Absolutely." "And over mine as well." Drake looked for a moment like she'd struck him. "You *came here* for Liam! *He's* the one you agreed to travel here to compete for. The one Maxwell's families fate depends on. Don't... don't act like you didn't know that." "Actually," her voice was clipped, "I came to compete and see if I might actually fall for him. To find out if there might be *something.* I didn't. There's not." She was still looking at him through the mirror, her eyes were narrow and the expression on her face was not one he enjoyed having directed at him. "Then why are you still here?" Placing the curling iron back on the table, slightly harder than was absolutely necessary, Alix replied with, "At the moment, that's a very good question." Dragging a hand over his face, Drake finally muttered, "He's my best friend, Klein. I *will not* do this to him." He watched her eyes darken again, "Maybe it doesn't make sense to you-" "I don't want to hurt him either, Drake! I don't want to ruin the two of you. It's not like I planned for any of this." Her eyes filled, but she looked away from him. "Alix..." he took two steps closer to her before he was even conscious of doing so and then stopped abruptly. The fucking draw he had to her. "It doesn't matter. You're right. Liam needs the support you give him. I don't want to damage that." "What do you want Alix?" She turned off the curling iron as she stood, then smoothed the creases from her dress. She turned toward him; he was between she and the door. 'You.' Was the simple word at the tip of her tongue. In particular, with his suit-- a very different way to see him. He'd said once that he'd only dress up if there was someone he wanted to impress. His cheeks colored a little when he realized she'd noticed his suit. "You look handsome." He chuckled, "Well, I know I'm no Prince Liam, but..." the snarky comment died on his lips at the expression in her face. "What?" "Stop doing that!! Yes, Liam is a prince. Yes Liam is attractive. So what?! It doesn't make him any better than you. Honestly probably one of the biggest reasons he's not an insufferable prick is because of you!" She took a breath, "You deserve everything just as much as he does! Maybe more, because you've never had anything handed to you." She was angry. She physically shook herself after a moment and he stood staring at her as she started toward him, "I should get out there."she said softly as she tried to edge around him. Against his best judgement, Drake brushed the back of his hand against hers and she looked up at him. This felt like goodbye... he knew it needed to be... the knowledge didn't mean he was ready for it. "Klein.." he brought one hand up to the back of her neck and his lips swept down to meet hers. She stiffened for a moment and he was briefly concerned that she'd pulled away, that he shouldn't have... he started to pull back when her lips softened against his and one of her hands was in his hair. He pulled her snugly against him, his arms around her waist, hands squeezing, bunching the dress. He wanted more. Her. He wanted her. That was it. They broke the kiss and both were panting as he allowed his forehead to rest against hers. "I've never been jealous of anything about Liam. I've never wanted anything of his, the way I want you." Her left hand lifted to his right cheek, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, "I'm not his." He gave a completely humorless chuckle, "No, not yet.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." The warmth in her expression melted away, "No, you shouldn't have." Just like that, the spell was broken. "I really must go." Her expression changed again, but this one.. this one he couldn't read. She did, however reach up to rub off the lipstick stain she'd left on his lips. "Goodbye Drake."