#pretty sure this is jagged deep-ish at least

[robo-dino-puppy]

horizon forbidden west | jagged deep 5/?

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

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A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!

Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: on chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)

Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.

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PRESENT

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Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.

When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.

November, 2018

They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,

“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.

“No, why?”

“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.

“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”

“What did you do?” Elias was curious.

“Oh, I broke his face”

Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”

“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Yeah so anyways-“

Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.

_______

Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.

Dice and ice (February)  2019:

Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock. 

He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.

Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.

“Petey!” Brock shouted. 

Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock. 

“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.

A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion. 

Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night. 

“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you. 

“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”

Elias nodded and looked back at her.

She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.

“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”

She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”

He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.

Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.

Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.

“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.

“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.

As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.

“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.

“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”

Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”

“Wait, so she’s moving here?”

“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.

Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.

The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her. 

“You doing ok?” he asked.

“That obvious?”

He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”

That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”

“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.

“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”

There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.” 

She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”

The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-

Oh shit, what is he doing?

He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.

That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”

“Jackass,” she quipped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.

“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.

He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.

Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed.  He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.

So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.

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

PRESENT

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As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.

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

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[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 20

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 part 14 part 15 

part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Part 19

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 20

NEXT

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“But MDC is still...” Alix started and suddenly realization dawned on her. She finally connected the dots. From there, she realized more and more. It was like she woke up from some trance. Image of utter fear and regret on her face was priceless. “No…“

Alix run out of class just as madame bustier entered. 

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

After the matter with Akumatized Alix crashed the classroom and was defeated by ladybug and her team, the classes were canceled. Marinette spent the afternoon with Damian, happy to crush him several times in Ultimate Mecha Strike and several other games.

“Can we play something else now?” He moaned as the big red defeat displayed on the screen. He convinced her to go to arcade to have more choice, which proved to be his biggest mistake. The girl decimated him in absolutely everything. 

“Oh. Ish baby shad that I win?” Marinette tried to imitate english babytalk, but it did not really work in her favor.

“I see no dishonor in losing to a titular champion.” Damian tried to defend his ego, but she only giggled.

“I have an offer for you. If you beat me in any game, you can choose what we do tomorrow.” She tried to motivate him.

“You want to repeat it?” He asked surprised.

“Yes silly. I really like you… I mean spending you with time… No wait! Timing with you spend… Spending time with you! I like spending time with you!” She finally shouted, getting some confused looks from people around. That is until they met Damian’s gaze and run away before Marinette could get more embarrassed.

“I was just kinda... surprised. Not even my brothers want to spend that much time with me.”

“They aren’t married to you now, are they?”

“Only you Angel.” Damian grinned as she blushed deep shade of red. “I challenge you for a dance.”

“What?” She asked confused.

“tt. Dance Off. The game. You asked me to challenge you for a game. That is what I choose.” He explained.

“I… never played before.” She said a bit shyly. 

“Is that a surrender?” He gave her a challenging look.

“Dream on.” She retorted and moved to the panels in the back. there were no people currently using it so they jumped on the platforms. 

Damian confidently got into stance while Marinette just copied him. One of Jagged Stone’s older songs started playing. While the boy immediately started to follow the rhythm and get the perfect score, Marinette clumsily tried to follow his footsteps. She was off balance and hardly following the keys. She missed every third one and never scored perfect. She would definitely loose. 

She stopped dancing and took one deep breath. She focused on the song instead of just pressing the buttons. When she started dancing, there was no more clumsiness or flailing hands while losing balance. She was confident, strong and she would totally kick Damian’s ass in this game just as well as in the others. 

As Damian danced, he kept perfect score. If not for the fact that she’s beaten him in every single other game in this arcade, he would actually pity his wife. At least until she started to get perfect score too. Suddenly, they were moving in perfect synch with music and each other. A crowd gathered around them. People were cheering for them. He was pretty sure he heard some wolf whistles from the boys in the back that were directed to Marinette and he was pretty tempted to drop the game and just throw some things at them. Maybe exploding batarangs. Yeah. That would work… 

By the time they were getting to the final, Damian had a quite firm lead. Then, he heard someone from the crowd actually dare to call some slurs at Marinette and got distracted. It was something along the lines “I want to see your other moves”, He only slipped for a moment, hitting several wrong buttons while getting up, but Marinette got in the lead by mere ten points. She was completely unfazed by the cries and words of the crowd. It was like she was in her own world. Damian caught himself staring at her instead of dancing so he doubled the effort. In the end, she still won. 

“Yeah! You go babe! I want to...” Damian saw red. It was the same guy as before. He jumped over the railing that kept players from falling off the stage and punched the guy mid-air square in the face. There was a cracking sound and the idiot fell down with bloodied nose. The crowd dispersed as if it was never there.

Immediately, almost half a dozen of other guys appeared around to support their mate. 

“Now you just got yourself a problem boy.” One of them commented.

“Actually…” A new voice joined the ‘discussion’. “I think your friend is the one in trouble. He was calling my friend here some very inappropriate names and suggesting several less than legal things.” Alix rolled into the sight.

“So since the girl can’t take some compliments! Doesn’t mean he can punch our friend.”

“He is her boyfriend who was defending her from an elderly man. She is underage so get lost before I call the police.” Alix threatened them. While the idiots were distracted, Damian took the opportunity to grab normal dusters and put them on his fists. He was ready for a fight. The fact that this tugs didn’t pull knives or guns already was close to a miracle. If it was Gotham, he would have a gang-fight on his hands ready and set. 

“Sowwy madame.” The one with broken nose spoke, showing that he also lost some teeth. “I was not awawe of that. You looked so full of confidence that I fowgot myself.” He apologized and got lost with his friends as per instructions. 

“Ugh! I swear they keep getting in trouble.” Alix complained to himself. Damian was suddenly in front of her. Because of her rollerblades she was taller so he had to look up. 

“Excuse me, but where from do you know this criminals?” He started to interrogate her.

“Calm down Short Stack.” She cooled him off. “My brother and I sometimes volunteer at the homeless center. They tend to come there from time to time. One of this guys even works there.” She explained. 

Marinette walked to the scene and practically pulled away the still fuming Damian. “Thanks for the assist Alix.” There was an awkward silence interrupted only by Damian’s breath. He was not tired, only angry. 

“No problem.” Skater girl finally shrugged. “Listen Mari. I wanted to… apologize. Lila is a liar and an idiot. I was even bigger idiot for believing her.”

“tt. My plan worked at least partially I see…” Damian commented.

“Your… plan?!” Marinette shouted at him. “I asked you specifically not to do that because we will have another scarlet moth at our hands!” 

“I think that is something the two of you should solve between yourself so I will leave you to it.” She was about to ride away, but Alix took one last look over the shoulder. “Are we cool MDC?”

“Yes Alix. Yes we are.” Marinette smiled before making an angry face at Damian. Alix chuckled and zoomed away.

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

Late in the night Red Robin, Ladybug and Robin met in the Wayne Enterprises headquarters. 

“Anything new on hawkmoth?” She asked. It was more than a month of them working separately but so far there was little they could do.

“Well, I think I tracked the Akumas to this general area.” He pointed to the holograph map of Paris.

“This is like one-fourth of the city!” Damian was less than amused.

“It is still something. At least Akuma appear on camera.” He said, reffering to the time when Tikki (convinced by Marinette) sneaked into the building to switch Tim’s coffee for the non-caf version so he would get some sleep. He didn’t forgive her to this day, but he would not take vengeance when mr. I-stab-anyone-who-harms-her was on the same continent, much less the same city. 

“So we are not really that close.” Ladybug sighted.

“I do have some suspects. Out of the people in Paris who were not akumatized only handful match the criteria. And then, if you eliminate those who are not living in the area, then you have… an empty list.” 

“So hawkmoth only owns a hide-out in this area.”

“That would be hard, unless he works from the sewers.” Red Robin zoomed on the area. “This is stricltly living space. Not even that many shops. I also don’t believe a shop owner would have time to attack the city on so many occasions. At least not while keeping a steady revenue.”

“So we have literally no clue?”

“Well, if you take in account that Hawkmoth could somehow akumatize himself, we do have one solid lead.”

“Who?” Ladybug was very eager to finally be done with all of this and return to being a normal teenage girl.

“Gabriel Agreste.” Red Robin displayed a profile picture of the artist for reference.

——————————————————————————————————–

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[willadisastercry]

Retrieval mission gone horribly wrong: nearly everyone is whumped...

tw: discussion of blood, breathing difficulties, impalement, loss of conciousness, discussion of the aftermath of an explosion

The mission should’ve been simple. All they had to do was blend in, which meant no armor, only concealed bayards. Everybody knew the deal, Pidge has the tablet that tracts the artifact, the rest follow and protect Pidge who retrieves said artifact. They were supposed to get in and out quickly, to not leave time to dawdle, or room for error. And most importantly, not get caught. But the entire team was off that day, leaving little that went according to plan and multiple members of the group badly injured and in need of tending. It didn’t matter if it was a lack of focus or proper intel... but who was left to save them?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Hunk had refused to enter the crudely lit corridor and watched in horror as his teammates were enveloped into darkness aside from the shrinking green and red and grey glows of their bayards.

The vibes were just off, he’d argued in protest since the power hadn’t wavered once when they combed the previous floor. We don’t have our suits and cannot afford to blindly walk into an ambush with only our bayards. Not to mention, there is not a single guard around—absolutely nothing to protect this artifact located down a dark and mysterious hallway, does not mean go and check it out anyway?!

But Pidge’s radar confirmed the signal was emitting from just a couples yards ahead and the other boys couldn’t argue with that.

“You don’t have to come with us, bud.”

“Yea, don’t sweat it...”

“...we gotta get moving.”

They were already running short on time for the estimated window of opportunity to retrieve the artifact they were tracking before the security system rebooted. They just couldn’t pass up the chance, but Hunk also just wasn’t going to be caught dead following them down there.

“I guess I’ll cover you on this end...”

There was nothing on his end though. Not a single thing.

He relished in the steady influx of their voices discussing what they saw over the coms. Nothing for a while, Lance stepping on Pidge’s heel, Keith bonking his bayard on the wall accidentally and it scaring them, Pidge saying they were closing in on the artifact. But immediately after they started closing in the clear stream became crackled and unintelligible.

Hunk wanted to throw up, he knew something had gone really really wrong when their coms went down completely but Shiro and Allura could still be heard urging everyone to move faster, that they wouldn’t be able to hold the attention of their defense fleet much longer.

They had drawn the patrol fleets’ fire and were serving as a distraction for nearly thirty dobashes now, their lions had taken a substantial amount of damage and wouldn’t hold up much longer.

“Guys?! Pidge, come in! Lance? Keith? ANYONE?!”

“Yelling! In my ear! Why are we yelling?”

“Shit—yeah, hi Shiro. So... Keith, Lance and Pidge followed the signal down this sketchy hallway, but I didn’t go because it looks like the type of hallway you get murdered in—I shouldn’t say that, but it looks like that. It’s pitch black, zero visibility, I can’t see them at all. Man it felt so wrong down there! I knew something was up, I felt bad about not going with them but I couldn’t, I couldn’t go, something wasn’t right!”

“Hunk! Focus! I need you to calm down and tell me you’re exact location, better yet send it to me.”

“Gosh—okay, yeah, I can focus. I can—“

But Shiro never got to calm Hunk down enough to have him even describe where he was because his end of the coms went out and was replaced with a similar static.

“Crap, Allura I’ve got to go in and help them,” Shiro stated as he sprayed the battle ships with a hail of fire before stealing the castle away.

“I’m coming, guys,” Shiro assured even though they likely couldn’t hear him.

Allura stayed back to draw base’s defensive fighters away and then get them off her tail while Coran cloaked the castle. Once they were out of range, Shiro used their last drop ship to bypass the planets defenses while they were still distracted and landed on the base near Pidge’s green lion.

Shiro had no idea what he’d be walking into when he tracked the artifact on the server Pidge created to identify quintessence.

He sure didn’t think he’d first find a passed out Hunk at the beginning of said sketchy hallway with a heavy plume of smoke billowing from it. His forehead bleeding pretty significantly and he didn’t stir when Shiro shook him.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he lugged the larger boy up by his arms and draped him over his back, using their combined momentum to keep them both upright as he trudged into the thick smoke and dense darkness of the sketchy hallway.

It was so dark he couldn’t see five feet in front of him, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the smoke anyway, the only reason he remembered it was there was how it filled and sat heavy in his lungs.

He called out hoarsely. But nothing for the longest time until he followed the blinking light from the server and turned the corner.

The first thing he heard was heavy breathing. He called out, but no one responded. His glowing hand casting a vague purple sheen that illuminated his path slightly and allowed him just enough visibility to not to eat shit over the debris that littered the floor.

There had been an explosion.

Hunk had been right. There was no one guarding the suspicious hallway with the precious artifact because the guard was the spooky hallway itself.

Shiro slowed and began scanning the entire width of the hallway as he moved, looking for the first sign of life or anything that looked like it would set off a bomb, but wasn’t too worried about that since his team had obviously made it that far without...

He forced any thought about what he might stumble upon when he found them out of his head. All he needed to focus on was finding them in the first place, which got a little tricky when the hallway forked. The server wasn’t precise enough to pinpoint the difference of fifteen feet accurately. So he stopped altogether now and called out again.

He heard nothing for second, but then he heard wheezing, the strangled rattle of someone’s chest working and darted down the right most corridor.

Before he turned down the next corridor he was stopped dead in his tracks when his purple hand illuminated a shaggy haired form crumpled around the corner of the wall. Keith.

He knelt down and grabbed the shuddering boy’s shoulders. His raspy breathing was what he’d been hearing. He refrained from rolling him onto his back to check for further damage because it was peppered with shards of metal, so instead he assured him that he was safe now and that he’d come back for him once he checked on everyone else. Keith only grunted.

Shiro let Hunk down next to Keith and activated his hand once more to begin scouring the hallway.

He called out again, and this time someone responded. Shiro took off on a weary trot as he followed the weak response, he told them to keep talking as he scanned the floor, very aware of each skinny twist of metal that looked remotely like an arm or a leg until he actually saw a leg attached to one. Lance.

Lance was on his side, his shoulder tucked unnaturally under him, with the tip of a jagged wrench of metal sticking into the fleshy part of his thigh.

“I’m okay,” he huffed as Shiro eyed him worriedly, “I just can’t get up. My shoulder is done for but the bleeding on my leg has sort of stopped or slowed at least, it’s not even that deep it’s just very securely in there.”

“Okay, do you think you can stand?”

Lance laughed dubiously, but extended his uninjured arm out to Shiro anyway.

“That was not at all convincing, but I guess we’ll find out... hook your arm around my neck, yeah just like that, now I’m going to brace your bad arm against your side so nothing moves weird and you’re going to put weight on your good leg... on three, one—three!”

As soon as Shiro hoisted Lance up he nearly topppled back over with the wave of excruciating pain that washed over him, he yelped and writhed as he breathed through it, his legs wobbling while he gripped Shiro’s shirt to keep himself upright.

From what Shiro could tell as he carefully manuevered his arms around Lance’s waist and good arm to keep him from falling, his shoulder appeared to be very much dislocated. But it was now safely clutched against his side, so any jostling of it would be awful, but no further damage would be made.

Lance took a shakey breath and stepped back, giving himself a second to sus out if he could make do with his bad leg. A fresh gush of dark red welled around the shard protruding from his thigh and dribbled slowly down his leg. He grimaced, but it carried his weight.

Shiro’s heart sank. An explosion like this wouldn’t have hurt his team as badly if they were wearing their armor, not just the under suit. It was his order, to be discreet. This was his fault.

“Hey, I’ll live. Pidge was father down, she was closer to this explosion,” Lance mused as he leaned heavily on the wall while he made his way forward.

“There were like several. Keith got the brunt of the first one, is he okay?”

“Uh, ish. I had Hunk with me, he’s out so I left him with Keith.”

“Shit...”

“I know, usually takes a lot more to take out the big—“

“No, look.”

Lance pointed to Pidge with the light of his bayard. She was slumped against the wall and looked like she was mostly okay asides from being unconscious, that is if you didn’t mention the glistening pool of blood below her.

Shiro rushed forward and his stomach turned. Only when he got close did he realize that the entire right side of her body was torn up by metal debris.

A lot were minor knicks, but there was one particularly jagged gash in her side that was likely the source of all the blood.

“Pidge? Hey, you with us?!”

The smaller teammate hummed when Shiro shook them.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? This probably won’t feel good, I’m sorry.”

Shiro lifted up Pidge’s limp form effortlessly, ignoring her pained cries as he held her against his chest so that her head rested on his shoulder, one arm clutching the back of her thighs and the other free to help Lance limp back to the rest of the team.

Hunk was responding by the time they got back. A large hand pressed firmly on Keith’s arm as his chest worked, his breath ragged and his lungs wheezing while he breathed through the thick smoke. Shiro made a mental note that he probably had some other injuries to his chest that were making him so susceptible to the effects of smoke inhalation.

“Okay, Hunk how you doing? Can you walk?”

“I ‘on know,” he slurred, “pro’ly.”

“I can help him. You get the mullet, he’s not looking too hot.”

Lance hefted a dazed Hunk to his feet with his uninjured arm. He swayed, but Lance steadied him.

Shiro knelt beside Keith, balancing Pidge on one side while he probbed his stomach.

“Anything hurt over here?”

“No, agh! Not really, mostly my chest... and my back,” he groaned through labored breaths.

“Good, hold on to me,” he postured before pressing the boys hips against his own and bringing him up with him.

Keith’s breath hitched as he adjusted to the new orientation, but he got his feet under him and clutched Shiro’s shoulder before doubling over. He was almost retching like he was going to be sick, but he just couldn’t breathe.

Hunk who was hanging on Lance held out his arm for him to grasp and he did, grateful for the extra support while he struggled to fill his lungs.

“Easy, Keith. Just relax. I know it hurts, but we have to get back to the Castle. We’ll fix you up soon you just gotta work with us for now,” Shiro soothed, dragging him along sluggishly.

“Shi— o— iro— Shiro? Shiro can you hear me?”

As they moved farther and farther away from the artifact, the coms grew clearer until they could hear Allura’s voice distinct and worried.

“We’re here Princess, we’re all here,” Lance answered.

They heard Allura let out a sigh she tried to repress, she didn’t even know she was holding her breath.

“Are the paladins alright?”

“Uh...”

“Ish.”

“Should I patch Coran in and tell him to prepare a pod?”

Pidge let out a particularly pointed whine as Shiro shifted her so she wouldn’t slip lower, his moving also tweaked something for Keith who moaned a very deep and crackly ‘ouch’.

Shiro eyed the darkened expanse of Lance’s thigh, Hunk’s wavering balance.

“Have him prepare a few... just to be safe.”

“Oh dear, alright.”

They had to move quickly but carefully. Shiro had never tread so lightly during an escape except for now when he was toting two very injured and in pain paladins. He moved even quicker when he realized that Keith had gone from only clutching at his shoulder to leaning entirely into his side, his feet at times merely dragging along. Shiro’s grip on his hip pressing it against his own was uncomfortable for them both but there was no other area untouched on his upper body for him to lug him by.

Lance and Hunk made their own way together, swaying and stumbling the entire time. Lance’s leg had pretty much stopped bleeding, the metal protruding from it effectively staunching it for now, but the damage around it grew more and more apparent. His muscles felt both excruciatingly taut and achingly loose as they squelched around the piercing metal.

It would altogether buckle beneath him every now and again, leaving Hunk mostly holding up Lance but relying on him to reorient himself when his head ached so bad that his vision blurred. Hunk was always careful of his shoulder when he’d stop and hang on him, Lance’s bad arm remaining clutched tightly against his side and out of the way anyway.

“We’re almost to Green, come on buddy,” he said as he urged the larger boy forward, practically hoping now.

No one really knew how they made it out without getting stopped, but the robotic foot soliders seemed to only take into account that the perpetrators who set off the explosions would be running, not hobbling.

Green’s whines were present in everyone’s head with Pidge’s conciousness wavering, the jaws of the smaller lion opening up as soon as they neared.

My paladin! Green lion save paladin! Green lion fly paladin to castle!

“We’ve got her, Green. You just get us back and we’ll do the rest,” Shiro assured, settling down on the ground of the cockpit with Pidge between his legs, her back against his chest so he could put pressure on the gash in her side.

He had guided Keith to his knees where he then practically pitched forward onto his stomach.

Looking at the wounds on his back with some of the metal bits still sticking out in better lighting made Shiro want to hurl.

Then again holding Pidge’s insides in place also made him want to hurl but that was why she was positioned the way she was, so he didn’t have to see it.

Her breathing was fast but it was better than Keith’s. Every now and then she’d make a pained sound and he would just whisper in her ear that she was safe and she would calm down soon after.

And then he’d take her pulse. It had gotten slightly weaker but he could still feel it.

Lance had lowered himself to the ground slowly but his good leg was tired and cramping from the effort of getting out of there and so the descent down was anything less than smooth, his legs giving and his back hitting against the wall. It jarred his shoulder so badly he was wailing.

Hunk held his hands against his ears when Lance screamed out, he hated the fact that his friend was in pain but the shrillness of his cries sent stabbing pains into his skull where a pulsing welt had been growing. There had been an explosion at every key checkpoint on the way to the artifact, including the entrance he was supposed to be covering.

When the wave of nausea and blinding pain subsided, Hunk placed his hand on top of Lance’s who didn’t have the energy to tighten around it while he clenched his teeth together, hissing as every movement Green made only hurt him further.

Keith could sympathize.

The only option was for him was to lay on his stomach, shifting his weight to the side of his ribs that hurt less was all he could do. He could feel every one of Green’s movements reverberating in his chest, riling up every bit of hurt that was now present and dialing it to well past ten.

He just wheezed through most of it, the smoke from the explosion still thick and heavy in his throat, but when his lungs ached so bad he couldn’t help but cough it made his bruised and broken ribs hit the ground and his vision whited out several times.

It wasn’t until one fit racked his body so badly he coughed up a bit of blood that hands were on him pulling him to his knees and putting his head between his legs so he could calm down enough to breathe.

“Hey, Green? Please hurry...”

[sports-balling-blog]

NFL hot(ish) takes for 2020 (AFC edition)

FOOTBALL IS BACK…if you ignore high school football and college football and soccer football but we’re ignoring that! So here we go my 2020 power rankings

AFC West

4. Las Vegas Raiders- lead by everyone’s 17th favorite starting quarterback and the rest of the silver and black are in for a long year stuck in the AFC West and not making moves themselves. Just add this season to the broken dreams that pave the strip…at least y’all have hockey?

3. Denver Broncos- John Elway must have really been hoping he could make lightning strike twice and bring Aaron Rodgers to the mile high city only to be stuck with a combination of Drew Lock and Teddy Bridgewater to see through the season instead of you know drafting a quarterback. There is too much talent *cough cough Von Miller cough cough* for the Broncos to be a complete disaster but you guys are dangerously close to Kyle Orton/Tim Tebow territory.

2. The S̶a̶n̶ ̶D̶i̶e̶g̶o̶ Los Angeles Charges- much like everyone else I’m pretty high on the Los Angeles Chargers (of Anaheim) after seeing the team’s second half of 2020 and Justin Herbert. It’s finally looking like the rebuild will yield results but we have one last question for the team will they have more wins than fans in So-Fi this year?

1. Kansas City Chiefs- shock of all shocks the back to back AFC Champions with an MVP QB and hall of fame coach will repeat as division champions. While it should be a cake walk to their seventh straight playoff appearance (and sixth straight division title) it’ll be interesting to see if they did enough to keep pace with the other top teams in the AFC.

AFC South

4. Houston Texans- HAHAHAHAH do I really need to talk more. Everything this last off season seems to have been the incorrect move more Huston especially the whole deshaun Watson situation. At least on the bright side at least no one can claim you’re tanking.

3. Jacksonville Jaguars- the Trevor Lawrence era has officially began. Too bad it’s going to start like the Minshew/Nick Foles era ended, with lots of losses. That much is clear when they chose to pander to Florida Gators fans by hiring Urban Mayer signing Tim Tebow instead of actually improving. To the three Jags fans out there be glad the Texans are in your division.

2. Indianapolis Colts- ahhh the Colts and injuries quarterbacks can you name a better tradition? The Carson Wentz era In Indy will have to wait a good chunk of the season to get started in Ernest given the newly acquired QB will miss up to 12 weeks. There’s certainly enough talent there for the Colts to stay in wild card contention and not fall in with the other two teams listed above.

1. Tennessee Titans- I don’t think there’s anyone quite as happy to be in Nashville as Julio Jones is. After years of trying to get out of Atlanta this falcon is free and here to help a titans squad looking to capitalize on the teams back to back playoff appearances.

AFC North

4. Cincinnati Bengals- congrats bengals you’ve found your franchise savior! Now you just need to scrap him off the turf every other play. And to add insult to (hopefully not another) injury AJ Green left to the Arizona desert after a decade. There’s still a long rebuild ahead bengals.

3. Pittsburgh Steelers- WHAT? How can the team that went 11-0 to start rank third? The Steelers are a long way from being one of the NFL’s top teams and the end of last season especially the game against Buffalo showed it. This year there’s no easy schedule for the black and gold to pray on. While everyone else in their division got better at least to a small extent Pittsburgh just got older and slower.

2. Baltimore Ravens- It will be an interesting season for Lamar and the Ravens and we’ll get a good taste almost immediately as they take on Kansas City in week two. The defense is there for sure a deep playoff run the only question is can the receivers include new addition Sammy Watkins can stay healthy and productive enough for the offense to match that pace.

1. Cleveland Browns- hard to believe the browns went 1-31 not very long ago. Cleveland looks like a completely different team these days boasting what looks to be one of if not the best defenses in the league especially after adding Clowney. Making the playoffs will be the least of the browns problems the only question is how far will they go. The way this team is built I’m guessing far.

AFC East

4. New York Jets- Zach Wilson is here after some rather uneventful years with Sam Darnold at the helm, but more importantly Adam Gase is gone! You’re Free! While the Jets won’t have much to show for it this year I think mean green’s perpetual rebuild sneakily took a turn for the better. We might have to stop calling them the butt fumble in a few years.

3. New England Patriots-yeah I know it feels weird for me to put them here too, but let’s face facts the Patriots are no longer a Super Bowl caliber team. The 7-9 record last season speaks for that. Its rather unlikely that lightning will strike twice in the form of Mac Jones right away. Give it a year or two and we’ll see where you are.

2. Miami Dolphins- another AFC East team looking at a bright future without Adam Gase! Brian Flores has done a great job righting the ship of state and now the dolphins look primed to build on last season and make a playoff appearance! Unfortunately the AFC is too too heavy for you to really do much there but good job none the less!

1. Buffalo Bills- another long suffering team now enjoying great success this time with Josh Allen. The Wyoming Alum looks to lead what will be one of the NFL’s best offenses past the AFC title game and into a Super Bowl this time. Their first since 1993

Playoff time!

1. Kansas City Chiefs- I don’t think they’re leagues better than the other playoff teams but when you’re looking for your fourth straight AFC Title game appearance I’ll give you a bit of a pass.

2. Buffalo Bills- not much to say here the Bills are a talented squad who are going to be successful.

3. Tennessee Titans- the regular season may be kind of a mixed bag for the Titans when it comes to record (obviously not too bad) but I think the playoffs is where this team will come to shine.

4. Cleveland browns- four feels too low for this team but when you look at who’s above them it’s kinda hard to disagree with it.

5. San Angels Chargers- look at you Chargers fan! You’re in the playoffs maybe you can make some magic happen.

6. Miami Dolphins- after coming so close last year you can loose in the first round just like in 2016.

7. Indianapolis Colts- just like last year you get to play Buffalo first and just like last year you won’t get a second game.

All in all the AFC is really a three team race. While I think I best team in general is the Chiefs I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Tennessee represents the AFC.

[twitchesandstitches]

Skylla/Konyyl - Meal Among The Plains

Commission of a giantess and ravenous Konyyl being romantic with Skylla! Commissioned by @biggestcuttlefish on behalf of @fuzzynecromancer

----- 

On the plains outside of any settlement populated by sapient beings (troll or otherwise), a terrible beast spawned by ancient and malignant magic lay slain, and the huntress responsible was resting before her next task.

Skylla sat heavily upon a loose spine, her legs calmly extended. As a troll, she stood far larger than any other species short of a true giant-class, but the beast was so abnormally big, she looked tiny all the same.

She had some time to think, and she considered that most trolls occupied an interesting niche in the loose assortment of inter-species unity. As as fleshy beings tended to be concerned, trolls were usually the biggest, the strongest, and the meanest (when meanness was warranted, anyway; care and snuggliness was also a main facotr of their people), as long as you didn’t bring up the ways cybernetics or physical alterations could level the evolutionary playing field.

As the enormous and somewhere grotesque corpse beneath Skylla indicated, trolls certainly excelled at monster hunting.

Skylla flexed her leg again, and her boots clicked. A complex arrangement of crude moving machinery, gas-powered projectile systems and a lot of spikey bits, they looked more or less like she was wearing extremely large shotguns on her feet, and given the large holes paired with devastating kicks she’d delivered to the serpentine monster she sat upon, that was a fairly reasonable assumption.

For a troll, she was honestly on the slim side. To a human, of course, she would have been at least twelve feet tall, and have some serious trouble getting through doorways, but by troll standards, she was very slim, all corded muscle sheathed in soft, curvy suggestions beneath a bulky one-piece jumpsuit that was mostly just emplacements for various weaponry. An interesting quirk of her weapons was that few of them were outright lethal; grappling hooks, climbing claws and nets were the general theme, and it suggested a hunter who wanted to avoid damaging prey too much.

She was quite busty, though. Troll girls, almost without exception, were astoundingly curvy by human standards. Skylla was on the petite side for a troll; that was, her breasts were only a little bit smaller than her head. This said a lot about troll beauty standards, which mainly leaned to ‘you can probably kick my ass and i think that’s really cool’.

Polypa slid off her conquest, making sure to click her heels in such a way that set her shotgun boots to safety mode to avoid the whole ‘accidentally perforating something’ scenario, and hopped on down. It was quite a long way for her to go, and the air rushed around her, flipping her long, voluminous mane around her like an extremely useless but pretty parachute as she dropped down.

To her, the beast’s side was like a fallen building, a huge and towering wall of scales, meat and blood, and it took her a long time just to reach the ground beside it. She hit with a heavy sound, her boots absorbing the impact and dispersing it harmlessly (an important thing when you regularly ascended extremely large creatures!), and her chest smacked against her fit belly with an impact that was honestly painful. She winced, but dealt with it.

She admired her kill, and then smirked as she pulled out a whistle. She blew into it, and it produced no apparent noise.

At least, not noise that could have been heard by a normal troll. But it could be heard by a very, very large one.

And from a distance, there came an answering roar. A monstrous roar, staring so low and deep she almost could not hear it at all, and then it rapidly rose up the noise scale, and by then it was a feral scream, a snarling dare to all the world to ‘come at me, bro! I DARE YOU!’

And then, there was a terrible stomping noise, heading in her direction. Terrible in the old sense of the world; arousing terror. It approached her way.

Skylla leaned against her kill, making sure not to stand in any blood-falls and look less than absolutely cool, and she waited.

Soon, something massive broke through the trees, splintering branches and tearing aside hills in its way. A great cloud of dust, flying wood bits and the occasional lump of boulder shrapnel surrounded an approaching figure, which was first visible as a vaguely (but extremely, indisputably) feminine shape, coming close and on the rise. If you ignored the distinctly curvy shape, hips apparently as wide as a mountain trail for behemoths swinging with a slow and alluring orbit sure to draw the eye and annihilate anything they hit, you’d see the outline of hair. A massive, shaggy mane defining it’s whole outline, an enormous wild mass broken by two extremely thick and jagged horns pointing towards the sky like very angrily extended rudeness fingers.

Soon, it, or rather, she (and Skylla couldn’t but smile, even if she was trying to look cool) appeared. Most trolls were among the smaller of the big species… but not all. And one of the few to develop a mutation that transformed consumed biomass into sheer size and mass was Konyyl Okimaw, and even when they’d both been young and Konyyl had only been roughly as large as a house, Konyyl had still been such a fierce hunter that no monster plaguing the countryside had been safe.

But they both liked it best when Skylla hunted the bests and presented it to her, like an offering to a goddess.

Finally, Konyyl stopped before the slain beast, clad in mostly improvised fabrics; a tapestry looping over a breast so large as to obscure her entire upper torso and make up a decent chunk of her body mass, matched by a tent she’d apparently borrowed from somewhere and cut into a rough bikini shape. Her gut was unadorned; a massive, round and distended roundness, sinking low somewhere around her knees in a heavy and inviting curve, rumbling slightly as it constantly converted its fat into muscle, chitin, bone and more mass for Konyyl, so that she was very visibly growing by the moment. As broad as her shoulders were, as huge as her muscles were even beneath the thick slabs of yielding fat over her entire body, her belly was completely squishy.

Skylla’s gaze drifted up from feet mutated into ferociously clawed and digitigrade shapes, past enormously round thighs massing nearly as much as the rest of her body, to massive hips just barely clad in a mess of wooly fabrics inexpertly looped together into some vague attempt at modesty. They were nothing as impressive, she fancied, as Konyyl’s specular gut. That belly! Nothing could possibly withstand it’s fearsome digestive fluids; Konyyl had swallowed whole entire buildings, and not even a single scrap of stone or concrete could endure the battle within her. Entire armies have gone past those huge, soft green lips, countless monsters of unspeakable ferocity and cruelty, and all of them had met their match in her ravenous belly.

And every single one, Skylla thought lovingly, had largely gone there because of Skylla. Adding their mass to the belly of Konyyl, making it bigger with each and every meal, adding more layers of soft and lovable fat to her enormous body, and Skylla beat them down and fed them to the giantess, or tricked them to their doom, or simply slid them down that throat, one at a time.

It was almost like a score card. That massive belly, now so big that it blocked out the sky for Skylla, had grown so large from her work, her devotion!

(Skylla was prone to being a bit too enthusiastic about tolling Konyyl’s many and varied attributes, to the point that local bars she visited were known to clear out just to avoid information overload. Konyyl knew this, and teased her fiercely about it, but kept it to herself that she did the same exact thing at all the giant meetings.

They both had images to maintain, after all!)

Now Konyyl crouched down, with some effort, and it was, again, mostly for the look of the thing. She grunted with some effort as her huge belly slapped against her thighs, forcing her to awkwardly spread her legs and hunch down a bit at a time, so that her stomach hit the ground, and let her angle herself downwards to get a better look at today’s prize.

She grunted in acknowledgement, and as reluctant as she sounded, Skylla grinned at her. She knew when Konyyl was trying to hide something. Konyyl reached out only a little bit, and could lay a clawed hand on the beast’s side; it was so large that she could have ridden on it, even if it would probably have been brought low by her weight. With its many limbs, though, it’s body was long, and stretched out longer than she was tall.

Given that Konyyl’s tread could flatten some streets if she wasn’t careful, and her occasional approach near cities could brought night at full noon from her size blocking out the sun, that was saying a lot. Honestly, Skylla wasn’t sure how large Konyyl was. She knew that she was a little over twelve feet tall herself; she supposed a couple hundred feet was a decent estimate, but it still felt like lowballing it.

Skylla mentally chastised herself for adoring Konyyl so much; it was time to focus! To get into blackrom character! She breathed in, out, and tried her hardest to think stern, spade-ish thoughts. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle this one,” she said aloud.

Konyyl snorted dismissively. “You wish, short stuff!” She stared down at the creature, her green eyes glowing down with the special kind of disdain you had to work really hard to fake. Skylla smirked; Konyyl thought she had an image to maintain, and you could just see her struggling to keep her feelings from just bursting out.

(The irony was, honestly, lost on her, but at least she was better at it than Konyyl. Marginally!)

“You did not kill that thing all by yourself,” Konyyl said, settling on a suitable contentious topic, and snorted with a tremendous noise that rose a heavy wind; branches snapped before the power of Konyyl’s enormous lungs, one or two of the small shrubs were torn right out of the dirt, and Skylla was knocked head over heels.

Skylla snorted and stepped forward. “Check the bullet holes; all of ‘em have my signature on ‘em!”

“Nah. You probably found it, shoved the bullets in there, and then preened like a cute little maid. Waiter, whatever.”

Skylla smirked. “Pick me up, will you?”

Konyyl rolled her eyes, in a theatrical movement. “Sure, I guess,” she grumbled, as if she couldn’t wait to get Skylla onto her. She leaned forward, made awkward by the sheer girth of her belly and her breasts resting on her stomach with a heavy motion that made it ripple like a pond with a rock dropped into it, and plucked Skylla off the ground. With a careless gesture belied by how very carefully she was handling this most precious person, she deposited Skylla on her shoulder, with a perfect view of the scene, Konyyl’s cleavage, and everything else.

Skylla whistled. “Looking good, big stuff!”

“You’d know, shortie!”

Konyyl stayed hunched down, staring at the prey. Despite her completely made up complaints, her belly still grumbled mournfully, and Skylla felt, rather than heard, the thunderous growl of a truly massive belly, the sound so loud she couldn’t hear it at all.

“This thing ready to eat or what?” Konyyl said, her expression twisting up longingly, the ravenous hunger making her mild, meek, almost begging.

Skylla moved, to keep herself from sinking too quickly into Konyyl’s pudgy shoulder. “Go for it, if you think you can handle it.”

Konyyl scoffed, with a hint of relief there. Glancing back to make sure that Skylla was anchored to a small platform she’d wrapped onto her shoulder like a tiny shoulder-guard specifically for this purpose, she leaned forward and tugged the beast onto her stomach. As big as her belly was, it afforded her a LOT of leverage as long as she worked it in somehow. On her own, Konyyl would have been sorely pressed to actually move it around at all with her powerful body in the way. But this way, that was another matter.

Her belly was, at least at the pure fatty areas, almost liquid in how smooth and easy it was to roll something up. Even with her somewhat limited reach (considering how her belly and breasts could constrain her movement right in front of her), Konyyl had an easy time sliding the beast straight up, towards her waiting jaws.

“You’ll never fit it in,” Skylla said, to egg her on.

Konyyl growled. “Watch me!” Her jaws opened, unnaturally wide even for a troll, with their jaws structured for feats that would make a snake somewhat appalled and even a bit queasy to watch. Her lower jaw dropped nearly into her cleavage, just enough for her to insert the blunt end of a tail into her mouth, down into her throat.

And that was enough. Her throat muscles, as ludicrously powerful as the rest of her, squeezed on the tail, and pulled with a single mighty swallow.

It was an impressive thing to watch so many tons of armored meat moving into Konyyl’s mouth, Skylla thought with an awed silence, not going particularly fast but with an inevitable sort of patience. It took several minutes for the tail alone to be gulped down, but it went all the same, and then the creature’s back-most pair of hips, along with a small pair of legs that stuck out of her lips briefly. Both became a big lump in her throat, and then the next sext pushed it down as a larger set of lumps, and so on. The whole beast slid down, slow and gradually, the lumbs getting larger as she worked her way through it…

Skylla watched, in open fascination, in awe, and a certain amount of pride. She’d made this happen, feeding her giant quadrantmate.

Finally the beast’s head lolled down into Konyyl’s lips, the rest of its body already drawn down into her gut, and with a loud smack of her lips, Konyyl swallowed it whole with a second gulp. Her throat swelled briefly with its weight, and then the whole beast splashed into her gut, now rather firm with the creature’s body.

And, over the next few minutes, increasingly less so. Her digestive acids went to work, and over the next few days, the scales and meat and bones would be reduced to just so much biomass.. And then fat, and raw materials to make the gorgeous troll even bigger.

“Not bad,” Skylla said teasingly. “You actually pulled that off!”

Konyyl chuckled, impishly plucked her off her shoulder and giving her a heavy kiss that totally submerged Skylla in soft dampness, her lips briefly sealing around her completely. “I might go with you having a LITTLE bit of a hand in it, huh?”

Skylla leaned into her lips, returning the kiss with a fierce one of her own against the wall of Konyyl-lip. “Hey, I’ll take it~!”

[sarareynolds]

Random

1. What’s one animal you wish you could have as a pet but can’t?

Ocelot. 

Lol no… but it probably would be a big cat of some sort. Snow leopard maybe. I've always loved those

2. Favorite thing to wear to sleep?

A tank top and underwear. Pretty much the standard for me.

3. What song really gets you going?

I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston

4. Where do you usually eat your meals?

I'd say at home but lately my boyfriend's place is winning for that currently.  

5. Favorite meal: breakfast, lunch, or dinner?

Breakfast. I'm hardcore into brunch options and brinner.... I also tend to have cereal as a snack and a weakness for donuts, so yeah, breakfast wins

6. Most embarrassing habit?

Oh, I don't know… I'm not embarrassed by a lot. Self conscious, yes, but not embarrassed.

7. Chocolate or fruity candy?

I choose chocolate covered gummy bears. Take that. :p

8. Soft or hard tacos?

Soft, and corn on top of that. Unless it's Taco Bell, then always crunchy.

9. Worst way to break up a fight?

Try to get in the thick of it? I really don't know, this is a talent I've never really had.

10. Best thing to say in an elevator of strangers?

I don't really talk to people in elevators. :/

11. What color/design are your bedsheets?

Currently they're a baby blue color and I have a quilt that's mostly white with a splash of rainbow triangle starbursts that I made when I was like fifteen to see if I could.

12. Any hidden talents?

I can clover my tongue. I don't think I have any other

13. Favorite thing to drink out of (mug, glass, etc.)?

A glass.

14. Socks or bare feet around the house?

Bare feet.

15. Favorite board game?

Stop Thief. It's awesome and retro and I bet you've never even heard of it.

16. Do you sleep with the fan on or off?

Off which can be problematic in summer. I can sleep with it on if it's unbearable I just prefer not to.

17. Heat on or keep it cold with lots of layers?

Heat on. I'm really not a fan of the cold but I don't like endless layering either.

18. Do you sing in the shower?

Um, yes. #unashamed

19. Favorite song to belt out at the top of your lungs when you’re alone?

I honestly don't need to be alone to belt out a song like that. I also don't have a go to. Usually it's whatever record I put on. Lately it's been jams off of Alanis Morrisette's Jagged Little Pill. In a 90’s mood.

20. Last thing you cried about?

See this is unfair because I feel like it keeps coming up and it's not even a thing anymore, but the last thing I cried over was my boyfriend ghosting me for a week. We talked. We're good.

21. At what age did you first have alcohol?

13? I think. I don't know, somewhere around there.

22. Relationship status?

In a relationship.

23. What’s the most amount of money you’ve spent on a single item of clothing?

400-ish. I've spent more on clothing than I usually would as of late. Kind of a requirement for my job.

24. What do you typically wear to formal events?

Cocktail dress.

25. Favorite memory?

It’s not really a specific memory but Sundays growing up. My dad would play his old records and make cinnamon rolls.Well, put cinnamon rolls in a tray and bake them but still... It was our thing and it was nice while it lasted. 

26. Gum or breath mints?

Breath mints

27. Favorite shoes?

I have a pair of black Adidas I wear all the damn time.

28. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I care what people think. I wish I didn't but I constantly worry about how people interpret me. It annoys me that I can be sure of myself and yet care that people may judge me for the choices I make in spite being sure. Ugh, Contradictions.

29. What is the natural state of your hair?

Merida lol 

30. Have you ever had braces?

Nope

31. Most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?

I used to sneak out. At the time it didn’t seem dangerous but looking back yeah, that was fucking dumb. 

32. Most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?

I can't remember them catching me doing anything….I’ve always sort of flown under the radar with them.

33. Last time you had an orgasm?

I know you want the overshare....

34. Celebrity crush(es)?

Nikolas Black. ;)

35. Windows or Mac?

Windows. At least if it breaks you can cobble it back together, I can't say the same for a Mac.

36. How old were you when you learned to ride a bike?

7?

37. Makeup or natural?

Makeup. I don't really feel comfortable with a bare face.

38. What color do you wear the most?

Yellow. I like colors but yeah, I think that wins.

39. Favorite season?

Summer. Hands down I live for summer.

40. Umbrella or rain coat?

No. No to both. All you need is a decent hoodie and maybe a leather jacket. A treated leather jacket. Don’t be an animal.

41. Have you ever fallen out of a tree?

Yes. Again, if you say you haven't it's probably false. Or you had a hellofa helicopter parent at your side.

42. First car you ever owned?

None. I have never owned a car. No reason to.

43. What time do you usually go to bed?

Depends on the night. I don't think I have a usual bedtime. I go to sleep when I'm tired. Some nights that's 11 others it's like 2 am and rarely it's like 8.

44. Are you a competitive person?

Yes. Very. I like winning. 

(yes, I realize the gif is inaccurate to reality but I’m about that competitive when I get going)

45. Least favorite color?

Brown. 

46. First pet you’ve ever owned?

I have never had a pet of my own.

47. Sweet or salty?

Sweet but again I see not why I can't have both. Chocolate covered potato chips are good.

48. Favorite pasta dish?

Shrimp scampi in linguini. Yum.

49. Favorite kind of chips?

Sour cream and onion

50. What are some of your hobbies?

I paint. I'm a bit of an audiophile... I think that’s about it actually. 

51. Caffeine? If so, what kind?

Yes. Coffee and teas. I'm not big on the whole energy drink thing.

52. Favorite kind of pizza?

Pineapple with bacon. Yeah, I'm sorry to those of you I have offended. Pineapple is great on pizza.

53. Fast food or sit-down restaurant?

Sit down but fast food has its place. I'm not going to knock it.

54. Lots of acquaintances or a handful of close friends?

Handful of close friends. Hands down one good friend is better than a handful of fake ones.

55. Something that ruins your appetite?

Um… not much. Honestly being sick is about it.

56. Favorite labels about you?

I try really hard not to pay attention to labels. I know blah so cliche but seriously, I tend to focus on the negative ones so it’s better for me to just not go down this road at all.

57. Are you a religious person?

I can't say that I am, no. I believe things happen for a reason but as for a higher power being in control of that…. Not so much no.

58. Night out with a bunch of friends in public or night in with one friend having deep conversations?

Lately it's been the latter but I enjoy a night out with a group of people as well. I have zero alliances with this one, both are enjoyable for their separate reasons.

59. What size shoe do you wear?

8. I'm average af.

60. Favorite thing about yourself?

I don't really take shit from most people. I think that's mostly a good thing. Mostly.

61. Have you ever told someone you loved them first?

I have not.

62. Have you ever had sex on the first date?

Ha… try sex without a date, but, yes, I have done that too.

63. Heroes or villains?

I’m borderline neutral on this but maybe tend to teeter more toward villain overall

64. Favorite fruit?

Pomegranates

65. Least favorite fruit?

Oranges, actually, not a fan. I know, weird.

66. Favorite vegetable?

Carrots

67. Least favorite vegetable?

Peas

68. How many plates can you eat at a buffet?

I probably average three. One round, second round for seconds or missed maybe items, if I have room that and then dessert.

69. Favorite dessert?

I like mushy desserts. Mousse, ice cream, cheesecake, pie… I have a sweet tooth but favorite is probably tiramisu.

70. Do you play any sports?

I don't know if it's a sport but I like flying. For no-maj things I’d probably go track and field. 

71. Age you learned how to swim?

3? Does anyone actually know the number for these sorts of things. I was very young.

72. Tell a funny story.

My littlest sister was going up the stairs and I heard a thud. I yelled, “You ok?” and she responded, “Yeah, uhh, I just a little clumsy, uhh... I fell on da stairs.” 

73. What’s one interesting thing about your culture?

Um... I’ll get back to you on this one.

74. What’s one annoying thing about your culture?

Everyone’s got their head up their ass. 

75. What job would you be terrible at?

Waitressing... lol 

76. Would you rather watch a TV show or a movie?

TV Show. There are very few movies I get super jazzed for. I think 90% of them are Marvel.

77. What’s your favorite compliment to give?

I’m really awkward about compliments actually.

78. What’s your favorite compliment to receive?

Yup, still awkward.

79. Has your opinion changed on something recently?

Not recently no, but I am open to other people’s opinions and hearing the other side of something. I may not always show this truth, but you can’t grow if you don’t try and hear someone else’s perspectives on things. 

80. Do you always order the same thing at a restaurant or order something different each time?

Depends on the restaurant. I try to order new things but there are places I definitely have a regular order, especially if I don't go to that place often.

81. What’s something you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet?

So many things. I have a nearly endless bucket list in my head of things I want to do. Shark diving is the most recent one to make the list.

82. If you could learn to do anything right now, what would it be?

Pottery. Specifically on a potters wheel. It seems like it’d be a fun challenge.

83. Favorite physical feature about yourself?

My hair.

84. Least favorite physical feature about yourself?

My hands

85. What’s one amazing thing you did that nobody was around to see?

I caught a thrown pen perfectly upright once in class. Snagged it out of the air like nothing and nobody saw it happen. The only time I had mad skills like that. 

86. If you could change your height, would you?

No. I'm good with 5'6"

87. What’s something you would rate 10/10?

Ooh, um... pfft. I dunno. 

88. Heels or flats?

Flats. I love fashion but I also enjoy comfort. Though, heels definitely have a place.

89. What’s something you wish you had more knowledge about?

Art. I have a very basic knowledge. I’ve mostly figured shit out on my own when it comes to painting but I do appreciate what others create and would love to know more.  

90. Would you want to know when you'll die?

No, I don’t think I would. I feel like that would taint things knowing when it would all stop.

91. Would you want to be famous?

I'm thinking by proxy is enough for me, honestly.

92. What’s something you would get arrested for?

Protecting someone I care about.

93. What’s your spirit animal?

That’s basically a patronus right? So: hippogriff

94. What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

Nik, he'd disagree but he's wrong.

95. Are you the type to have an organized mess, or no mess at all?

Organized mess. My whole life is compiled of organized messes.

96. Do you tend to make decisions based on the past, present, or future?

Present. I don't often think very far into the future because it's impossible to predict and dwelling on the past can lead to forgetting to live at all. Now is the most important moment you have.

97. Are you a planner or a more spontaneous person?

Spontaneous, if my previous answer shows anything it's that.

98. Thoughts on the oxford comma?

Valid option. I am a cautionary user of the Oxford comma. No accidentally eating grandmother's here. Lol

99. What do you hope never changes?

I don't think I would ever hope for something not to change. I want to keep the people I care about but I wouldn't wish for my relationships to grow stagnant by refusing change.

100. How would you celebrate your 100th birthday?

Fucking party!!! Giant cake, loud music. All my people with me. A rager like I'm young and vibrant because dammit celebrating life is important, especially if you're getting that close to death.

[egotisticalee]

part two to this. warning for hospitals cause I know some peeps don't like them ^^ 

"Dark!"

He calls out the name, even though it's clear that the angel has no chance of hearing him. As carefully as he can, he catches Dark as he falls, instead guiding him down as Anti sits on the floor. He instantly holds the angel close, cradling him, as tears burn in the corners of his eyes.

"Dark, no, please, no... angel, wake up, wake up, please," he murmurs. He brushes some stray hairs away from Dark's face with trembling fingers, his heart sinking further as Dark doesn't even twitch. The point of the knife stands out against Dark's bloodstained shirt and Anti longs to get it out of his angel and preferably stick it right through the heart of who dared to put it there, but he knows from watching those doctor shows with Henrik that the best thing for now is to leave it there.

After a steadying breath, he starts to say Dark's full name, hoping to get through to him somehow. His tongue struggles to wrap itself around the syllables and a sharp, burning pain stings his mouth and throat, his body warning him against speaking the language of the angels. This language wasn't meant for demons like him. Dark wasn't meant for demons like him. The strange feeling he used to get from holding him, like he's touching something forbidden, only proves his point. The word eventually makes its way out and Anti feels something, some faint acknowledgement, but Dark doesn't stir.

Something wet falls and splashes on Dark's face and only then does Anti realise he's crying. It's just in time for a sob to rip through him. He knows he has to do something fast but the tears make the world blurry, reduces the angel in his arms to a mass that's way more red than he would like. After gently shifting Dark, he reaches into his pocket, taking several attempts before finding his phone. He sniffles once more and wipes his eyes quickly to try and bring the screen into focus. With his shaking hands, it takes even more time, but he finally finds Henrik's contact and calls him. Whilst the phone rings, he tries to remember Henrik's shifts, but his mind doesn't want to focus on anything but making sure Dark is okay.

"Hello, Anti," Henrik greets, and Anti lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He breathes in again to speak, but the only thing that comes out of him is another sob.

"Anti? What's wrong?" Henrik asks worriedly, and Anti desperately tries to get his breath back to explain. He can't do this, not now, he needs to get help for Dark. Maybe, he thinks, it's that small part of him hoping that, if he doesn't say it out loud, Dark might not be hurt at all.

"Need help- my house," he gets out. He hears movement in the background and guesses - and hopes - that Henrik is already preparing to leave.

"Keep breathing, you're doing great. What happened?"

"It's Dark..." he starts. He takes another deep breath and words start pouring out in a flood he can't stop.

"He's so h-hurt, Henrik, please come and help, I need you, p-please," he rambles, instinctively holding Dark even closer.

"Anti, Anti, stop, breathe. I'm on my way. I've got my spare key so I'll just let myself in, is that okay?" Henrik asks. Anti must somehow get out a "yes" in the midst of his babbling and sobbing and hiccuping, since Henrik speaks again.

"Alright, I'll be over soon. Stay on the phone, okay? Talk to me. Where is Dark hurt and how?" Anti swallows, grateful of how calm Henrik is and that he even agreed to help. It grounds him, stopping him from going into hysteria as he looks more closely at his angel's wounds.

"H-he... he was stabbed..." he explains quietly.

"Okay, can you tell me where and what weapon was used? Did it have a straight or jagged edge?" Henrik asks. Anti opens his mouth to speak again but no words come out; none can force themselves past the lump in his throat. The image of Dark being stabbed replays itself over and over in his mind, shortening his breath and sending more tears down his face.

"I..." he starts, trying to push past it or at least explain to Henrik why he suddenly went quiet. He can't be doing this, he needs to get over himself because every second puts Dark's life at even more risk. The thought just makes him more frustrated, expressing itself as another gut-wrenching sob. Another follows before he can stop it. His phone almost slips out of his hand as his whole body shakes.

"Anti? It's alright. I'm two minutes away, I'll see it soon enough. Can you tell me what other wounds Dark has?" Anti forces himself to listen to the voice of his big brother and let it calm him enough to speak.

"H-his leg... I'm p-pretty sure it's broken... his... his wings a-are in shreds..." he mutters after a moment. Tears still stream down his face, but at least he can talk.

"Alright, thank you, Anti. I'm almost there. Stay where you are and don't move Dark. I'll use my key, okay?" Henrik asks. Anti takes a shaky breath and looks up at the door, wishing that Henrik could already be walking in.

"Okay," he replies before putting his phone to the side. He pulls Dark minutely closer and gently strokes through his soft hair.

"Help is coming, Dark. Henrik is... is almost here, so you have to s-stay with me until then, okay, angel? You c-can do it... you can do it, angel..." he mutters, his voice trembling.

Though he knows it can't be more than two minutes, it feels like hours of whispering assurances before the door swings open and Henrik quickly joins him.

"It does look bad... you did a good thing by leaving it in," he says as he looks over Dark, humming in thought occasionally. Anti lets himself relax slightly; every part of him is still terrified that he could lose the precious being in his arms at any moment, but his trust in his brother soothes his nerves just a little. Henrik looks up at him eventually with worry on his face and Anti's heart sinks again.

"We need to get him to the clinic. I can save him, but I can't do it alone and I can't do it here," he explains. Anti nods, sniffling quietly, and looks down at Dark, cautious about moving him. Henrik seems to pick up his worry as he places his hands by the knife and mutters something Anti can't make out. A green-ish light glows from his hands for a few seconds.

"There. It's okay to move him now," he explains once the light fades away. Anti nods and carefully stands up. His body protests, his own wounds starting to catch up to him, but he pushes through it. His angel needs help and he won't let anything get in his way.

The car ride is quiet, the silence filled only by the rumble of the engine and Anti's whispers of reassurance, more to help himself than Dark. He senses Henrik glancing at him through the rear view mirror but he can't tear his eyes away from Dark for a second or he could just disappear.

The tense, quiet atmosphere shatters when they arrive and Anti snaps into action, almost jumping out of the back seat. Henrik talks with another doctor for a minute before leading Anti into an empty room. He gathers equipment from around the room in well-practised motions as Anti makes a beeline for the bed and carefully sets Dark down on his side. Kneeling down beside him, he takes Dark's hand gently.

"You're... you're gonna be okay, angel. You'll b-be just fine, and I won't let anyone hurt you again," he whispers. A hand on his shoulder startles him and he looks up at Henrik with what must be pleading in his eyes.

"I'm going to have to take him into the operating theatre. You stay here, Chase is going to come over and help you, okay?" he asks. Anti swallows and looks back down at Dark, shaking his head slowly.

"I.. I can't leave him," he admits quietly. Henrik sighs softly and kneels down next to him, the hand on his shoulder squeezing gently.

"I know, Anti, but you can't come into the operating theatre and you have wounds that need healing. You need to trust that I will help him." A quiet sniffle makes its way out of Anti. Before he knows it, Henrik pulls him into a hug, holding him close. He even makes sure to leans forward so that Anti doesn't have to move so far that he breaks his grip on Dark's hand. Anti takes a deep, shuddering breath, hardly believing how lucky he is to have a brother like Henrik.

"I trust you," he whispers. He reluctantly lets Dark's hand slip out of his own and returns the hug for a moment, not wanting to delay Henrik any longer than that. The doctor smiles as he helps Anti up and onto a chair.

"I'm glad." He doesn't say anything more before pushing the bed out of the room. Anti watches them go in silence.

The moment is broken when Chase comes through the door less than a moment later, but Anti is glad for the company. The man gives him a small smile as he guides him into a chair.

"I know you're worried about Dark, but I need you to focus on yourself for a few minutes. Will you let me look over you?" he asks gently. Anti nods and Chase gets to work, poking and prodding almost every inch of his face and humming in thought every so often. He gets out some wipes and carefully cleans the few small wounds before placing plasters over a few of them. Once he leans back, he looks over Anti's bloodied and torn-up shirt and bites his lip. Anti shrugs it off before Chase can say anything, moving slowly so his tired muscles don't protest too much.

The man gives him a small, sympathetic smile again before continuing to clean and patch up the various cuts and scrapes dotted on Anti's skin. The dark shadow of worry hangs over them, even though Chase's presence eases it a little. Anti finds his gaze gravitating towards the door no matter what he does. His heart aches, wanting nothing more than to see his angel again, or even just to know what's happening. He's been in hospitals more times than he can count, but he never thought he would be one of the people waiting around, looking up at the slightest movement with hope and fear in their eyes. He thought it was stupid to be that attached to someone. He thought it was stupid to be attached to anyone at all, and yet, here he is, his stomach twisting itself into tighter knots with every minute.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Chase asks to pull him out of his thoughts. Anti shakes his head slowly.

"Just a couple of bruises. You're not getting my trousers off that quickly. I'm taken," he says, allowing himself a small smile. Chase beams as he puts his things away.

"Yes, and he'll be here soon to fend me off," he replies. Both of them glance towards the door again and Anti lets out a quiet sigh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Chase asks quietly. Anti opens his mouth to speak, but he can't seem to find any words to make sense of his feelings, feelings he shouldn't even be capable of. He closes his mouth and shakes his head.

"That's okay. We can talk about something else if you want." Chase starts to rummage through one of the cupboards as he speaks, finally emerging with two mugs. A box of tea bags follows suit, alongside a bowl of sugar and a bottle of milk.

"What do you take? You can have something else if you want, but you have to drink, okay?" he asks.

"Milk, one sugar, please," Anti mumbles. Fond memories fill his mind of Dark greeting him after a rough night with a tray piled high with food that smells amazing. As Chase makes their tea, he remembers the first time Dark did it. He had grumbled about it, complaining that Dark was wasting food when he would have been fine with a slice of toast. Dark, to his credit, didn't look too smug when Anti finished it all in ten minutes. Nowadays, it takes a lot longer for Anti to eat his breakfast, on account of the fact that, more often than not, he puts the tray aside and pulls Dark onto his lap instead.

A faint blush forms on his checks at the subsequent memories that come up. Chase gives him a curious look as he presses a steaming mug into his hands, but he doesn't voice his thoughts. A heavy silence falls over them, but Anti feels better than before. He suspects Chase has put something in the tea to soothe his nerves and he's grateful.  The man's company helps; something about him just gives him the feeling that everything will be okay.

He doesn't know how much later it is when the door finally opens again. He stands up immediately, but finds himself stuck on the spot. Chase moves past him and helps Henrik bring the bed into the room as Anti stares in shock at the person lying there. He can hardly see Dark beneath the wires and bandages, but his angel is there, and that knife is gone and he can vaguely hear Henrik telling him he's going to be okay.

"Dark," he chokes out. He steps closer, wanting to hold his angel tight, but he settles for taking hold of his hand. It feels entirely too delicate. Dark himself still looks like he could shatter at any moment, but he at least looks better than before. Instead of Dark slipping through his fingers, he's slowly making his way back to him.

"He's going to be on non-magical treatment until tomorrow and after that it will still take him a while to fully recover, but he's on his way," Henrik explains. Anti manages a nod as he tears himself away to hug his brother tightly. He takes a shaky breath and smiles softly when he returns it.

"Thank you," he mumbles, looking up so he can catch Chase's eye and make sure he gets the message too. Henrik heaves a sigh, one that tells Anti just how exhausted he is, and moves a little closer.

"It's okay, Anti," he says. Anti leans back and shakes his head.

"Don't brush it off, Henrik. You just saved Dark's life on a moment's notice. Thanking you is the least I can do. Go home and sleep," he says. Henrik gives him a tired smile and nods slowly.

"I will. Take care of yourself." Anti starts to reply, but Chase beats him to it.

"I'll make sure he does." Henrik nods once more before leaving the room. Chase gives him a small wave as the door closes. He turns his attention back to Anti.

"I'll give it a few minutes, then I'll give you some time to yourselves, but I'll check back in an hour and you'd better be sleeping somewhere, okay?" he asks. Anti allows himself a smile and rolls his eyes.

"Sure, Dad," he mutters as he sits down next to the bed again. He hears the man's laugh as he pulls up a chair next to him.

"Usually that word is reserved for my actual kids, but just this once, I think I can let it slide." Anti simply hums, knowing Chase has said that to many a patient before. Chase is probably fully aware of that fact, but the fact that he still said it anyway makes Anti smile.

"I think Henrik's gone by now. I know he would want me to stay with you, but you don't need someone hovering over you. If you need anything, just ask around, someone will be able to find me, and if it's an emergency, you know where the call button is. I'll see you in an hour - well, unless you're going home to sleep," Chase continues. He stands up and heads to the door. Anti watches him go with a small smile. That man really is amazing at his job.

Once the door closes, he looks back at the sleeping Dark, simply watching his chest rise and fall now that his breath isn't isn't shallow and stuttering. He does want to sleep. Exhaustion is pulling at every muscle and even the desk looks inviting. Before he can give in, though, there's one person he needs to talk to. He can't let what happened to his angel happen to someone else.

He gets out his phone again, finding Jackie's contact. A few hours ago, he probably would have been furious at his younger brother for sending him out to that call, but he knows it wasn't his fault. Jackie was only doing his job.

"Hello?" Anti holds in a snort. Of course Jackie wouldn't check who was calling.

"Hey, Jackie."

"Oh, hey, Anti! Is everything okay?" He sighs softly and glances at Dark again before answering.

"Be careful. The call was fake. It was a trap set by hunters." He hears a sharp gasp and a faint voice asking what's wrong.

"Fuck. They knew exactly what to say to make sure I sent you out," Jackie mutters. Anti starts to hear footsteps - most likely Jackie falling into his pacing habit.

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully. Anti takes a moment to think over his reply.

"Nothing some sleep can't fix, but... Dark was with me. If it wasn't for Henrik..." he trails off, his voice a little more shaky than he wanted it to be.

"I'm sor-" Jackie starts, but Anti cuts him off, shaking his head even though he knows Jackie can't see it.

"It wasn't your fault. Just... just make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

"Yeah, I'll get it investigated and I'll have them tracked down. And... Anti, listen. Dark's tough. Whatever happened, he'll pull through," Jackie assures. Anti can't help but smile softly at his brother's optimism.

"Thank you. I hope so," he muttered, hanging up before Jackie can reply. He puts his phone away and squeezes Dark's hard as he looks over him again.

Tough, Jackie said... but he looks so fragile, with wires and bandages everywhere, his leg propped up. His angel has never looked so human.

A yawn takes him by surprise, and he considers Chase's mention of going home. He dismisses the thought almost immediately - there's no way he's leaving Dark. He really does need sleep, though.

Not wanting to get up again, he opts for laying his head down on the side of the bed. The mattress is soft, even though the sheets are a little itchy, so he folds his arms to rest them there instead. He drifts off to sleep, still holding onto Dark's hand like a lifeline, which really isn't so far from the truth.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

the one with the beginning (...okay not THE beginning, but A beginning)

“What exactly got Kara to decide to be Supergirl in the Cool Aunt Kara AU?”--Anonymous question I received like...seven months ago.

Shot answer: I randomly selected 24-ish as the age Kara starts hero-ing, placing us somewhere in 1992. Guess what seminal comic book event took place in 1992?

Long answer:

“Krssssssshhhhhh—headed north along highway thirteen,on foot, but pretty damn fas—rrrsssssshhhhhh—fatalities, this thing literally walked through Mainstreet, and took out—rrrrrrrrsssssssssssssshhh—not—rrrrrrrrrrrrrsssssss—ulated—ssssssssssssshhhhhhhh”

“Come on, come on—”

“Get that thing working, Ron!”

“Gimme a break, Perry, this thing is older than dirt. Who the hell still uses transistor radios?”

“We do, apparently, so fix it.”

Kara can hear the argument from out in the hall, thus she's prepared for the cluster of grim-faced Daily Planet reporters gathered around Ron Troupe's desk.

“Hey, what's—” she starts to ask, but Perry throws up his hand, eyes still trained on the radio in Ron's hands.

“I swear, Ron, you get that thing working or I give your job to Lombard.”

It's probably sheer coincidence that the radio starts working again, but Ron sighs in relief all the same.

“—unsure at this time where this creature originated, as all attempts to detain and question it have proved unsuccessful. Currently, WGBS is working closely with local authorities in order to give you live, up-to-the-minute coverage of this event, and—oh, hold on, we've just—there are new reports coming in, as the creature has reached the outskirts of Mount Royal—”

Kara listens intently, trying to piece together what's going on, but the report is frustratingly vague. She eyes one of the nearby TV monitors; it's on, but there's no picture.

“Perry,” she starts, prepared to repeat her question, but Perry holds up his hand again. Kara worries he's going to ignore her, but then he speaks.

“Something's tearing up highway thirteen, south of the city,” he says. And that much, Kara's gathered.

“Okay, but...what exactly is 'something?'” she asks.

“Nobody knows,” Perry tells her, turning away from the group and stalking back towards his office. A few of the reporters turn to watch him go, but none of them leave the radio—they're hanging on every word.

Kara, however, trots after him.

“The report said—it was some sort of creature?” she frowns. “Like...an animal?”

“It doesn't look like any animal I've ever seen.”

“You saw it?”

“The Daily Star had a copter out, following the thing. Got footage of it tearing up some town out in the middle of nowhere.”

Kara looks back at the blank TV monitors.

“Why aren't they—”

“Copter went down,” Perry grunts.  

Kara's head swivels around.

“It went down?”

“That thing took it down,” Perry clarifies. “Several, in fact. The only time I've ever been glad we lost out to the competition.” He takes a breath, and pinches the bridge of his nose, looking pained. “That wasn't—I shouldn't have—people are dead—”

Kara swallows thickly, anxiety mounting. This thing—whatever it is—sounds like a problem.

The kind of problem she could probably fix.

Because as Perry continues to explain the carnage they witnessed on the news this morning, it becomes clear that the police can't stop it, the military can't stop it...

It just keeps plowing ahead towards Metropolis, destroying anything and everything standing in its way.

…I can stop this, is what Kara realizes, as Perry's voice fades into meaningless ups and downs of intonation, and she listens, instead, for something that doesn't belong. Something foreign, unnatural.

Alien, she thinks, a little forlornly. But she doesn't have time to dwell, because not too far outside the city—it's there.

Large, by the sound of it. Large and...and definitely not human, but then, like Perry said, it's not an animal.

“—Kent!” Perry yells sharply, and Kara jumps. “Are you listening?”

“Uh—” Technically, yes... “Sorry, I'm just—this is bad, right?”

“How very astute,” Perry rolls his eyes. “Yes, Kent. This is bad. We've got some giant, unstoppable monster coming into town, and the last I heard, the military was thinking of nuking it.”

“What?!” Kara yelps. “Nuking it? Here?”

“They're already clearing out Bakerline—and they're trying to clear out Suicide Slum,” Perry grabs his coat and a hand-held recorder from his desk, and storms out of his office, Kara following hot on his heels. “I've been a news man for a very long time, Kent. People will do crazy things, when they want something gone and buried.”

“But people will die—!” Kara protests.

“People are dying already,” Perry says, hastily tugging on the coat, and slipping the recorder into his breast pocket. “I'd say we have...a few hours, tops, before this entire thing goes south.”

“That's...” Kara stares at him, not bothering to hide her horror. “This is insane.”

“Glad we're finally on the same page.”

He turns to address the rest of the newsroom—probably to rally the troops, or maybe evacuate; Kara doesn't know, because she's running towards the nearest stairwell, her brain working almost as fast as her feet.

She can't sit idly by—it's not an option. But...this isn't nudging a drifting eighteen-wheeler back onto the road at three AM; this isn't slowing a run-away freight train, or slipping into the Smiths' burning barn to make sure their cows get out alright.

This is a monster, in broad daylight, coming straight for Metropolis, with the police and the military and just about every news channel in the nation on its tail.

She runs through these thoughts as she sprints up the stairs—she's nothing but reaction right now, reaction and reflex, pushing forward at a breakneck pace. She's worried that, if she stops, she'll turn back, retreat to the safety of her desk and a pair of hunched shoulders.

Once she's on the roof, though, the wind hits her, as well as the reality of what she's about to do. Her sensible brown shoes skid to a stop just shy of the edge.

They'll come back.

She steps back and paces a bit. They'll come back. Those government agents. They'll find Kal. You won't be able to keep him safe.

She runs her hands through her hair, taking deep breaths. But if you let this happen...people will die. The monster goes free.

And is it worth it?

Keeping Kal safe on a planet ravaged by...by that?

She can hear it, off in the distance, getting closer.

She can hear screams, too.

She runs to the edge, and jumps.

Nearly three thousand miles to the west, Eliza Danvers turns on the news, languidly stirring her morning coffee as she waits for the weather report, while Alex Danvers stubbornly refuses to eat her Cheerios.

“What you're seeing now is...is not a hoax, folks. This appears to be...footage recorded earlier from a news helicopter, just before it was downed—oh, god, what the hell is that thing—?”

The spoon clatters to the floor. Alex looks up from her cereal.

“Jeremiah...” Eliza calls. “You need to see this.”

It's larger up close.

Not necessarily tall, just...Large. Muscled. Wide.

It looks like it's barely contained in the eerie green hazmat suit it wears, jagged tears revealing rough, colorless flesh beneath. Bony protrusions jut from its shoulders and upper back, sharp and menacing.

Kara lands directly in its line of sight—presumably, anyway. Its eyes, or, what she assumes to be its eyes, are hidden behind dark lenses built into the suit.

“You—” Kara starts, somewhat unsure. She has...absolutely no idea how to proceed. But she has its attention now; it's stopped moving, its gargantuan limbs coming to rest at its sides. “You...you have to stop. Please, you're hurting people.”

She waits for some sort of response; some indication that it has, at the very least, heard her. She doesn't really see any ears sticking out of the green suit...

But the creature doesn't move.

Which...was kind of the goal, right? Kara shifts her weight, nervously eyeing the monster, trying to gauge what's going on, what's going through its head. ...If anything. She can't tell with those dark lenses.

(She gets the sense, though, that its watching her very, very closely. And that...makes her feel very, very uneasy.)

“—have visual in three minutes—”

There's the faint crackle of static, followed by some grim muttering—the squad cars are close, and the press is no doubt right behind. Kara doesn't even need to listen all that hard in order to hear the sirens in the distance. She doesn't have much time—not if she wants to get out of this with her 'low profile' intact.

So she tries again. “Do you...do you understand? That you have to stop?” And again, no indication of comprehension. Maybe it doesn't speak English...? It doesn't really look like any species Kara's familiar with...though it could be some sort of...K'hundian offshoot.

She tries a basic K'hundish greeting.

No dice.

She cycles through the other twelve alien languages she knows offhand, and then struggles through a few that she really doesn't.

Nada.

The squad cars are seconds away.

In her frustration, she drops her head, rubbing her temples, muttering in Kryptonese, “Rao, what was I think—”

The backhand catches her entirely off-guard, sending her sprawling backwards, straight into—and ultimately through—a small, grassy embankment.

She lies on the other side, dazed, because that hurt. Her entire side throbs.

She hasn't felt pain like this in...years.

She struggles to sit up, trying to get her bearings, but the monster is barreling towards her, not giving her any time to blink, let alone brace for impact. She's thrown farther this time. Much farther. She hears the traffic but doesn't really register that it's cars—moving cars and vehicles and PEOPLE—until she's face down on a section of highway that hasn't been blocked off.

Two sedans swerve to avoid her, and an SUV doesn't even bother. Just. Runs right over her.

She groans into the pavement, and struggles to her knees.

“The hell?!”

Her head whips up, ready to run, or hide, or strike some sort of deal with these motorists, maybe buy their silence?

But they aren't staring in horror at her—they're looking at the seven-foot nightmare thundering towards them.

It swats a car out of its way like its nothing, and leaps, arms raised, ready to strike.

Kara's prepared this time. She whirls and plants her feet, and essentially catches the creature, hurling it over her shoulder, using its own momentum against it.

It roars angrily as it tumbles across the lanes of traffic. More cars honk and swerve and crash. The sirens are right behind them now. And Kara can hear larger vehicles on the way.

She has to get this thing away from people.

But she has...no idea how to do that.

This is a fight, and she's never been in a fight before. She did punch Dev-Em once, back on Krypton, but that was hardly a fight. His nose started bleeding and he ran back home to his parents.

This thing...does it even have a nose?

Kara shakes her head, wondering if her frenzied thoughts are the result of mild hysteria, or doing a face-plant on asphalt. Probably a little bit of both.

She launches herself at the creature's back, intent on forcing it away from traffic, and further into the rural areas outside of the city.

It's like hitting concrete.

Except not, because Kara can crush concrete with minimal effort. This...this is...something else entirely.

She feels something snap in the general vicinity of her right shoulder. The creature grabs her by her injured arm and slams her into the ground.

“Hnnng,” Kara wheezes into the dirt before it's got her by the arm again and okay, okay. No more messing around.

She waits until she's eye-level with the monster, staring into those black lenses. A dull blue glow is reflected back at her—Kal calls it 'heat vision.'

And she's just about ready to let it have it, but there's something odd about the reflection.

With sudden dread, she realizes why that is.

It's not a reflection at all—it has heat vision too.

“You're Kryptonian—!” Kara shouts, just as the world goes white.

“I don't know, the image—it's blurry footage—”

“I understand that, I do. But, look, that has to be—”

“You're making assumptions.”

“I'm—alright, it's maybe a stretch, but look at it. Humanoid, bipedal, exhibiting a degree of invulnerability—”

“But what about the spikes Jeremiah?”

“It could be some sort of...mutation?”

“No, no, that doesn't track...”

Eliza and Jeremiah go back and forth, the discussion heated, intense.

Alex takes the opportunity to turn her Cheerios into a nice, neat pile of milky mush. It's really coming along, in her opinion.

“—doesn't matter, that's all theoretical, based on the Luthor Model and--”

“Not anymore, it's not!” Jeremiah jabs at the small TV set on the kitchen counter. The news has been running the same footage, over and over, as they wait for word on the mysterious, dangerous thing terrorizing the outskirts of Metropolis.

“We still don't know—oh, wait a minute, wait a—we have new footage. We have new footage!” The anchorman's face is replaced by more grainy, shaky video—this time taken from the ground. Twisted metal is visible along the bottom of the screen—a totaled car.

The reporter on scene breathlessly describes how he pushed past the police barricade and five car pile-up and, honestly, it has to be the dumbest move, putting himself that close to something so demonstrably deadly, but the camera man does have the clearest shot of the monster, and...

A...young woman? Fighting it?

Fighting and losing.

“Call Emil,” Eliza says, but Jeremiah is already tripping over himself, running for the phone.

So, the revelation that this thing is...in some part...Kryptonian—that's...not as helpful as one might think.

Because sure, it's nice to know that the thing is capable of flash-frying her with its eyeballs, so she can avoid said flash-frying, but. There's not much else she can do with this knowledge.

Kryptonians are nigh invulnerable, beneath a yellow sun.

She tries to remember if her parents said anything, about what could hurt them. Her and Kal.

Certain kinds of radiation...

She dodges a punch and throws herself up and over the creature, careful to avoid the spikes. She wraps her arms around its thick neck, and squeezes.

Very specific kinds of radiation—radiation not found on this planet.

...Grife.

She curses under her breath, tightening her hold as it bucks and flails and fights her. She hangs on, just barely.

She can feel its strength flagging—they might be super strong, and basically impervious, but they definitely have to breathe.

The creature lurches—she thinks maybe it's going to go down.

It does. Violently. Throwing itself backwards, pinning her beneath its body. One of the spikes catches her side, tearing through her jacket, drawing blood.

“Hrrrng—!”

The monster gets up, and she curls in on herself, favoring the side that's been hit. The situation is...basically awful. Kara is certain that it can't get any worse.

Which means, of course, that it does.

“Clark Kent?”

The vice principal stands at the front of the classroom, interrupting Mrs. Simmon's lesson on the emperors of Rome.

Clark blinks, more surprised than nervous, even as the class breaks out in whispered 'ooooooh's and 'someone's in trou-ble...'

“Yes?”

“Why don't you come with me, son,” is all the vice principal says. Clark doesn't even know his name—he's never been in trouble, and he's never been called out of school.

Today, he thinks he might be both.

He gathers his things; the vice principal doesn't protest, so Clark guesses he won't be coming back. They walk out into the hall, and on towards the front office in silence.

“Um,” Clark finally works up the courage to speak. “Did I....do something wrong?”

“No, no...” the vice principal tells him. The man's heartbeat doesn't change, so he's not lying, but...he still looks very uncomfortable. “Your parents are here, they're...they're waiting for you, in the attendance office.”

“Oh.” Clark isn't sure why something like that should be so upsetting. “Did they say...why they're here?”

The man tugs at his tie.

“There's ah...the news this morning...” he says. “...There's been some trouble, in Metropolis. I guess...I guess your cousin's out there? Out East?”

And all at once, Clark is nervous. Just as nervous as the adult walking beside him, if not more so.

Because if something is happening out in Metropolis...something that could potentially harm his cousin...something that's worrisome enough to have Ma and Pa coming to pull him out of school?

Well.

That's very troubling indeed.

“—ces have been powerless against this...this creature, and the military is prepared to engage, in spite of the fact that there appears to be a...a civilian, taking it on...directly. I...I honestly...I'm seeing it but I'm still not really believing it, it's—oh, God, it's here, it's he—”

Forty-five minutes.

She keeps it out of Metropolis for forty-five minutes, distracting, redirecting, pushing back as best she can.

But after nearly an hour of taking a literal beating at the hands of a super-strong Kryptonian monster that can match her punch for punch (something she's not all that good at to begin with) she's sloppy. She's slow.

She's getting kicked through an office building on Delaney and praying to Rao that the military has, at the very least, managed to evacuate some of the downtown area.

WHUMP!

She lies in the rubble for a bit, struggling to take in a satisfying amount of oxygen. Everything from the neck down hurts, and there's...there's so much sound. Everything is too loud and too close and—

“Did you see—?”

“—faster, we have to move faster!

“I'm seeing it but I'm still not really believing it, it's—oh, God, it's here, it's he—”

She knows that voice—that's the channel twelve news team. She's's picking up a local news report—a Metropolis station.

There are still people in the city.

Of course. Of course there would still be people in the city—she only delayed the monster by an hour. Barely.

Get up. Get up. She wills her arms and legs to do as they're told. They put up a mighty protest but, in the end, they bend to her will.

(They bend...a little too much, actually. At the knee, to be specific, once she's struggling to stand. She has to lean against a ruined wall for support.)

She'd like a little more time to recover, and maybe wait out the fuzziness that's plagued her eyesight since that thing used its heat vision on her, but the sounds of destruction pull her from the ruined interior of the office. She's still too rattled to fly—all she can manage is a few measly leaps over some tall buildings.

And then she's right back where she started—The Daily Planet. The plaza out front is unrecognizable—chewed up and littered with wrecked cars, rubble, broken glass. People run, screaming, from the rampaging monster.

“It's the god-damned apocalypse!” some guy yells as he flees. “Freakin' doomsday!”

Kara decides this is an apt description.

She doesn't quite stick the landing, as she comes to a halt twenty feet from the bellowing monster. She barely makes any noise as she stumbles, but the creature's heightened senses pick it up.

It turns. It's long since burned through the lenses; she has a clear view of red, serpentine eyes. Eyes that reveal a thinking mind—a consciousness. An awareness.

And that, more than anything else—more than her reluctance to engage in violence, and her overwhelming lack of experience in that area—that's what's held her back. The only way to stop this monster is to destroy it.

And Kara...

Kara doesn't think she can do that.

It charges. She doesn't have the strength to go on the offensive. She digs her feet into the ruined asphalt and throws her arms up.

The resulting clash shatters windows as far out as the harbor.

Kara grits her teeth in an attempt to stop the disconcerting sense that her entire skeletal system has been torn loose from its figurative moorings, and silently marvels that she still has teeth to grit.

She's grappling with the monster, hands straining against its much larger fists, absently noting the unstoppable force, immovable object situation before her.

She's not the unstoppable force in this equation, and she's having a hard time maintaining the 'immovable object.'

As she struggles, the ongoing sounds of the the surrounding panic wash over them. People are still screaming...but littered through the incomprehensible shouts...

“...We have clearance.”

“But there are people down there, the area's not—”

“Just do it.”

She inhales sharply, thinking back to the conversation with Perry.

They really are going to try and destroy this thing with a bomb.

The monster capitalizes on her momentary distraction; a spiked fist sends her sideways into the front steps of the Planet. She hardly feels the hits now, which is both disconcerting and freeing. She pushes herself upright, thinking fast.

It has to be stopped. That much is obvious. But it has to be stopped by her. Because otherwise...otherwise people die.

The realization is heavy, coming to rest on her exhausted heart and lungs, chest constricting at the thought.

She has to kill it.

And she wishes she had time to process that—to wrap her head around the fact that she has to end its life in order to preserve the lives of others. Does it deserve it? Does it know that it's hurting people? Did it have a choice in becoming...this?

But the monster prepares for another charge.

And a B-52 heads for downtown.

Someone yells for help.

Someone else prays.

Kara thinks about the fact that one of the few things that can hurt a Kryptonian...is another Kryptonian.

“Zhalish khap,” she murmurs; whether it's to the monster, or Rao, even she's not sure.

The creature jumps, a terrifying onslaught of unchecked power and directionless fury, and raises its fists for a killing blow.

Kara does the same.

** In the years to come, a few witnesses will tell of the power of these final punches, that they could literally feel the shockwaves. Others will remember the enormous crater that resulted from the sheer force of the blows. But most will remember this sad day—as the day that —**

ALIEN LIFE CONFIRMED? MYSTERY WOMAN STOPS EXTRATERRESTRIAL MONSTER FROM DESTROYING THE PLANET—PROMPTLY VANISHES.

Kara is certain that she is dead.

It's dark and it's quiet. And it's the quiet that really unnerves her, because her mind is never quiet.

It is varying degrees of loud. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

But never quiet.

She can barely remember a time when she didn't have to share head space with half a county. It has always been a negotiation, an allotment of volume and attention.

So, yes. She must be dead. That's the only explanation.

“—Danvers keeps calling, not sure how much longer Dr. Hamilton can field them.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I know, right?”

“No, the syringe broke again.”

“Oh...damn.”

...Okay, perhaps she is not as dead as she suspected.

“...hhrrrrrrgn,” she says. “Mmeyeded?”

“...Did she just...?”

“...Yeah, I think she did.”

Kara tries again. “Am I dead.”

There is a long pause.

“...By human standards...yes.”

Kara finds herself nodding, because, sure. That sounds reasonable. Dead by human standards.

...Human...

She gasps, and sits upright, and opens her eyes, all at once, which proves to be her undoing. Too much stimuli, too much movement, too much...everything.

But as she falls back and passes out, she can't help but fret over the fact that...whoever these...disembodied voices are, they know her secret. Or. They’re well on their way to knowing her secret.

That she's not human.

Round two goes just as poorly as round one. Round three is marginally more successful, in that she's able to keep her eyes open for a full five seconds, and even distinguish some blurry shapes that may or may not be other people.

(...Or maybe potted plants?)

Attempts four-through-eleven are not nearly as dramatic...just a few fleeting moments of lucid thought before she falls back into a dreamless sleep.

Ultimately, it's the twenty-seventh time that's the charm.

“Easy, easy.” An unfamiliar voice coaches her as she blinks against harsh white lights. “You've been through quite an ordeal, Miss....Kent, is it?”

Kara doesn't answer. Wouldn't answer, even if she could.

Someone else, though, answers for her. “Yes.”

She frowns, still adjusting to the light. “Jn'than?”

“Hey, Sunshine,” she feels a callused hand take her own, and a welcome sense of relief soothes her slightly erratic heartbeat—she's...so glad to see him.

Well. Hear him, mostly. He's just a blurry blob, at the edge of her peripheral vision.

“Hnn,” she says back, ever eloquent.

“You'll find that your vision will be a bit...limited for the next few minutes. Try not to blink too much, and don't expend too much energy just yet...your system is still...ah...repairing...itself?”

That unfamiliar voice intrudes once more, and tension involuntarily seeps into her muscles. Her grip on Jonathan's hand tightens.

“Whoa, now, it's okay,” he says gently. “That's just Dr. Hamilton. He's a Xenobiologist here at STAR labs...fortunately, his team got to you before the media or the military did.”

It takes a moment for the memory to return. Facing the creature; using her own invulnerable Kryptonian physiology as a weapon against it.

She'd been so preoccupied with stopping it, she hadn't really considered the...morbid consequences, of leaving behind two alien corpses.

She shudders, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes shut.

Jonathan gives her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

“'s Martha here? Is Kal?” she rasps.

“Both back in Smallville,” Jonathan says, “which you should be glad for—Ma's gonna have some choice words for you, young lady.”

He's teasing her, Kara can tell. But she still feels inclined to defend herself.

“Had to stop it,” she argues.

Jonathan's chuckle sounds watery.

“I know, sweetie,” he tells her. “I know.”

“Now this...this is...it's all very theoretical, at this point,” Dr. Hamilton leads with the disclaimer, “but...but what we've gathered, thus far, based on...well. Based on...you, is that the Kryptonian system, when pushed to its absolute limit, will undergo a sort of...regenerative cycle, during which the solar energy stored in your cells is diverted solely to repairing the sustained damage. Now...to us humans, this looks a great deal like...either a very deep coma, or, well. Death. But in all honesty, it's a little more like...like when a plant goes dormant in the winter.”

It's several days later, and Kara is almost back to normal. The vision in her right eye is still a bit...off, and the puncture wound on her side is still healing.

“So I'm like...a plant,” Kara says slowly.

Dr. Hamilton nods.

“Or a battery.”

“That's...” Kara's brow furrows. “...Okay. Okay, sure.”

On some level, she knew this. Though her parents had been a bit...vague, in terms of explaining how Earth's yellow sun would affect them, the general...idea was easy enough to intuit.

More specifics had been stored on the Sun Stones, of course, but. She'd never been able to get those to work.

So hearing someone explain the particulars, for the first time in...over a decade.

It's...

It's not unwelcome, but it's...

Certainly something to think about.

“Unlike a plant, however,” Dr. Hamilton forges on ahead, either indifferent to Kara's pensive expression, or just oblivious. “I...don't believe your body could take the strain of something like this routinely. Or...ever again, really.” He consults some of the papers in the file folders on his lap. “Of course. It's hard to say for certain. As you know, we had a very narrow window of time to gather samples, while your invulnerability was limited, so we weren't able to perform all the necessary tests to be conclusive, but—”

Kara nods, reading the data on the papers with her good eye. Some of it looks like the test results from her stay at STAR Labs.

Other pieces of information, though, look like they're from...some sort of book, or paper.

She scans the excerpts, gaze coming to rest on a word that rattles something, at the back of her mind. “Who is...E. Danvers?” she asks, the name familiar.

Dr. Hamilton looks a little startled at the question.

“Ah,” he says, eyes darting to the page, and then back to Kara. “Right, yes. That's...” he squints. “You can see that? From all the way over there?”

Kara nods.

“Incredible,” Dr. Hamilton murmurs, looking a little lost in thought. Kara leans forward slightly.

“Uh, Dr. Hamilton?” He stares. “E. Danvers?”

“Oh, right, yes,” he blinks several times, and Kara notes that he almost seems to be stalling for time, as he looks down at the files. “A colleague,” he says. “Yes, a...one might say something of an expert on the subject.”

“There are...experts?” Kara asks, more than a little uncomfortable, given that the 'subject' is essentially her.

“In a sense,” Dr. Hamilton offers her a warm smile—he's finally caught on to the fact that this is freaking her out, so he attempts to reassure her. “It's a small field, though. Really only three or four individuals with viable research.”

“Oh,” is all Kara can think to say.

Dr. Hamilton asks her a few questions after that, taking careful note of her answers. Kara's attention is elsewhere, however. Namely, it's on the files in Dr. Hamilton's hands.

“Do you think I could see their research?” Kara asks, once Dr. Hamilton is finished.

He's distracted, gathering his things and preparing to leave. “Hmm?”

“The other experts. Their research on aliens,” Kara clarifies.

“Oh, there's really no need for that,” Dr. Hamilton explains with an easy smile. “Anything you'd need to know, any questions you have,” he gestures to the room around them, but it's clear he means the entire facility, “STAR Labs can help you.”

And Kara has no reason to be suspicious of Hamilton, or STAR Labs. Thus far, they've been extremely helpful, entirely cordial. Jonathan says their coffee is top notch.

Still.

Hamilton's response isn't quite as...reassuring as he intends it to be.

“...Right,” Kara smiles back, “of course.” She's a reporter—she knows what it looks like, when your source doesn't want to share the limelight. She dismisses Dr. Hamilton's reluctance as pride, nothing more. “Thank you, again. For...everything.”

She genuinely means it, because STAR Labs has been a great help. She owes them...her life, possibly.  

That doesn't stop her from making a quick note on a prescription pad, once Dr. Hamilton's said his goodbyes and left the room.

Find E. Danvers.

“So, this brick comes out of nowhere, and I—”

“Can you write?”

Kara blinks, adjusting her new glasses.

“...What?”

“Write.” Perry repeats. “Compose. String words together in a coherent manner. Can you still do your job?” he wants to know.

Kara blinks again.

“Well....yeah. Yes, I can.”

“Then that's all I need to hear, Kent,” he says in a gruff tone that suggests she's dismissed. Kara slumps, more than a little disappointed that she doesn't get to finish the rest of Martha's carefully-crafted cover story.

She gathers her things and heads for her desk.

“Kent!” Perry barks as she walks away. She glances back, confused. “What are you doing?!”

Her brow furrows. Is this some sort of trick question? “I'm...getting back to work?”

“Jeezus Kent, take a sick day. You've had severe head trauma,” he rubs his face, muttering under his breath as he turns and stalks back into his office. “Go home.” Kara watches him go, smiling a little.

Aw. He does care.

In the end, she's grateful for the forced time off. It gives her a chance to retreat to the relative safety of Smallville, and figure out...where to go from here.

“That's so cool,” Clark says, a little breathless, as he watches the fight play out on TV. Though news coverage of the event is tapering off some, specials are now being aired regularly; hastily produced 'documentaries' on the Discovery Channel, 60 Minutes interviews with known conspiracy theorists...Kara saw in the TV listings that there's going to be some sort of celebrity variety hour to raise funds for one of those new 'Humans First' groups that have been springing up.

“Not how I would describe it,” Kara teases him a bit. Clark ducks his head, belatedly realizing how his statement must sound.

“Not the part where you get your butt kicked, obviously,” he says. “But. The other part. That had to feel good, right? Using your powers to help people?”

Kara can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

“Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, it felt pretty good.”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

Kara frowns, not understanding the question. “What?”

Clark turns from the TV, but does not leave his spot on the rug. “Use your powers. To save people, and stuff.”

Kara rubs the side of her face. “I already do. You know that, Clark.”

“Save people for real,” Clark says, excited. “I mean. Stopping bad guys and stuff!” he throws a right hook. “Not just...checking on cows and trucks and cats in trees.”

“Let your cousin be,” Martha says, causing Clark to jump a little. “She's supposed to be resting, remember?”

“Aw, she's rested,” Clark argues. He turns to Kara. “You're rested, right?”

“Getting there,” Kara tells him with a smirk.

“Go on and finish your homework,” Martha says. And though Clark looks like he wants to do anything but, he dutifully obeys, trotting up the stairs to collect his backpack.

“I'm gonna bring it downstairs!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Fine!” Martha replies before joining Kara on the couch.

“Is he right?” Kara asks, once Martha's settled. “About the whole...saving people 'for real' thing.”

“He's twelve,” Martha reminds her. Kara sighs, and grabs one of the throw pillows.

“I know, but I mean...” she twists the pillow in her grip, “there's cows, and then there's that,” she nods towards the image on the TV—it's just barely possible to make out two small, smoke-obscured figures fighting in downtown Metropolis.

“I'm sure if you'd asked Bill and Edie, they'd say you saved them 'for real,'” Martha counters. “Those herds are their livelihood.”

“I just—I can do more,” Kara abandons the pillow, and stands to pace. “I've always been able to do more but I was so worried about Kal, about those government guys finding us but now...now there are giant Kryptonian monsters that exist, apparently? So who knows what else could be out there, and...and it—it doesn't seem—” she groans in frustration, hunting for the right words. “It doesn't seem right. To hide anymore.”

She looks to Martha for advice, or comfort, or both—yes, definitely both—and Martha smiles softly, standing to wrap her in a hug.

“Are you asking for permission? It sounds like you're asking for permission.”

“Um.” Kara thinks about it for a moment, and then nods into Martha's shoulder. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You're twenty-four.”

“I know, but I mean—”

“You don't need our permission to help people.”

“I know, but—”

Martha steps back, and laughs.

“Yes, Kara. Yes. You have our permission to save the world.”  

It's a joke, obviously. But. She's still relieved to hear it. “...Thanks.”

“But you can't save the world in sweaters and slacks,” Martha says suddenly, and pulls her towards the kitchen. Kara doesn't disagree, but the conversation has taken such an unexpected turn, she has no choice but to stammer a little.

“I...can’t—what?”

“Also I'd imagine you'd want to keep your hero work separate from your...what would you call it. Civilian identity?” she continues, and opens one of the cupboards in the corner that Martha has graciously given to Jonathan to serve as his 'office.'

She pushes aside some yellow legal pads, a number of phone books, and removes a sheaf of crinkled papers.

Kara tries to get a good look at them, but Martha's already making a beeline for the dining room table, and it's only once she's spread the papers out that Kara can see the contents.

She stares at them for a long while, taking in the pencil sketches and fabric samples.

Slowly, she grins.

“You've...been planning this,” she says, thinking of the glasses, and Martha’s cover story.

Martha nods firmly. “Since you were fourteen. Just, you know. In case.” She crosses her arms. “Do you like it?”

Kara touches the corner of one of the sketches.

“Very much.”

“Because we can certainly change it, if you don't. And I thought—I thought that crest might be nice? Right...” she ducks into the kitchen, and returns with a pencil in hand. “Right here,” she points to a vacant area on one of the designs.

Just beneath the collarbone. Like the shirt she'd arrived in, all those years ago.

Kara nods, and Martha takes a step back. “Of course, you'll have to draw the 'S.' I don't remember how it goes.”

Kara's reply is soft—not a reprimand, but rather, a recitation.

“It's not an 'S'....” she says.

Of course she'd pick a slow news day. Of course.

She keeps listening in on the squad car patrolling Centennial Park, but there's nothing.

Which...is a good thing. Obviously! That nothing terrible is happening.

Kara sighs and picks up the phone, ready to call up UC Berkeley and continue her search for the other individuals on that list, starting with E. Danvers.

But a burst of static, followed by an unfamiliar tangle of cop-speak has Kara rushing for the stairwell once more. (She makes a note to ask some of the senior reporters what a 'ten sixty-five' is.)

As she races to the roof, she's struck with a profound sense of déjà vu. It hasn't even been a month yet, and here she is again, staring at the Metropolis skyline, filled with apprehension and uncertainty.

Her fingers hover over the buttons on her shirt. If she thought there was no going back before, well.

She almost finds herself thinking of Kal again. ‘Do it for him.’ But....no. That's not quite right. Not anymore, anyway. Even if she's not sure about this, she is certain of one thing: she can do more.

Her cape unfurls in the late autumn breeze.

She runs to the edge, and jumps.

Another day, another satisfying pile of mushy cheerios.

Alex has added banana slices to the mix this time, to great effect. She's looking to see how she might procure some apple sauce for this endeavor, but. Judging by the stern glare her mother's giving her—that's probably out.

“Alex Danvers,” Eliza shakes her head. “Food is for eating. Not playing.”

She takes the cheerios away, which. Is a setback, certainly.

But Alex still has the bananas to work with, so. All is not lost.

“Is Emil still stonewalling us?” Jeremiah joins them in the kitchen, and takes a moment to appreciate the structural integrity of the banana mush.

“I just don't understand it,” Eliza shakes her head, and leans against the counter. “In all the years we've known him, Emil's never been...territorial.”

“That we know of,” Jeremiah reminds her. “He's never had access to a live subject before, he's probably...I don't know. Gone mad with power,” he shrugs, and then, his face darkens. “...I...certainly hope the subject is still alive.”

“Jeremiah,” Eliza hisses, even though it...is a valid concern. “What about those...those sightings. Out in Metropolis?”

“Everyone in Metropolis is crazy,” Jeremiah tells her, shaking his head. “You're talking about that kid with the cape, right?” Eliza nods. “Hon. No one in their right mind would put that kind of a target on their back, and in primary colors, no less—”

Jeremiah's interrupted by a knock on the front door. He turns, confusion apparent in the downward pull of his mouth.

“The mail already came,” he says, even as Eliza makes her way to the front entry. “A package, maybe?”

“It would have to be, we aren't expecting anyone...” Eliza replies. She reaches for the doorknob, and Jeremiah snaps his fingers.

“Ah, no, you know what? It's probably Nick, from down the street,” he joins his wife near the doorway, ready to intercede. “He borrowed our lawn mower two weeks ago.”

“Sshhh!” Eliza insists, not in the mood to deal with an insulted neighbor. She opens the door and it...is not Nick.

It's a complete stranger, actually.

A nondescript twenty-something in a sweater and glasses, fidgeting nervously on their porch.

“Oh, ah,” it's Eliza who recovers first, as Jeremiah is busy preparing some sort of excuse as to why they can't commit to another magazine subscription. “Hello...”

“Uh...hi,” their strange visitor says brightly, offering a jaunty, if small, wave. “Are you—um. Is this the Danvers residence? Are you,” the young woman looks down at a crumpled Post-It note, ”Eliza and Jeremiah Danvers?”

“Yes,” Eliza says, and Jeremiah adds, with a suspicious squint, “can we help you?”

The young woman folds the Post-It note, twisting the paper between her fingers.

“I...I think you already...ah. Did.”

By now, both Danvers are hopelessly confused.

“I'm...sorry. We don't understand,” Eliza says, and their visitor laughs lightly.

“Yeah, I'm—I'm realizing now this was maybe not the way to go. I didn't really think this...um. Just one—”

Maybe she says second. Or minute. Neither Danvers can be certain, because the end of that sentence is lost on a deafening breeze that kicks up, as the young woman appears to vanish before their very eyes.

Another gust blows in, and she's back. Sans glasses, and wearing that bright costume that's been popping up in the news lately.

Both Eliza and Jeremiah gape. “You—”

“You're—”

“My name is Kara Zor-El,” the young woman tells them, “and I came to say 'thanks.'”

Notes:

- **Narration pulled directly from Superman #75 by Dan Jurgens. - ‘Grife’ is an expletive that appears in Legion of Superheroes. Mon-El says it in episode 307, and Kara herself uses some form of it in the tie-in comic.  - Kara has her own iconic comics death; she need not steal her cousin’s, really but. This AU presupposes that the stuff that happened to Clark was not specific to him--those horrible events just befall whatever Super comes first, I guess. - Terrible, poorly-researched comicbook science is terrible.

[metahuman-misadventures]

Cisco x Reader - Acrylic Aftermath

I’m sick of looking at this one, so it’s getting posted.  Now that this is out of the way, I can get back to that smut request that will be just as long, if not longer than this one.  

Description:  Reader is a meta that’s lost her powers and her brother, Cisco takes it upon himself to help her move on.

Timeline: Meh.  It's vague.  Just roll with it.  Season 2?  Post Season 3?   Mentions Harry, cause why not.

Rating: T-ish

Warnings: Angst, hurt, comfort, friendship

Notes: Because the idea of “Y/N” and “L/N” stuff takes me right out of a good story, I like to insert a random Reader name.  Today's Reader name is Kelly.  Feel free to copy/paste/replace with whatever name if you need.  I won't take offense.

Word Count: 3949

--

“Not home, don't care.”  With a mouthful of chocolate and a sigh you answered the phone and hit the speaker icon before setting it down on the armrest of your faded blue couch.  

There was a few seconds delay before Cisco's voice responded.  “Okay, A, I know you're home.  I'm looking at the GPS location for your tracker right now.  And 2, if you didn't care, you wouldn't have answered.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you set down the spoon you were holding and poked at the spot in your forearm where the small microchip was implanted.  “How do you know I didn't carve it out, hmm?  I have plenty of sharp knives in the kitchen.  Maybe I just up and Jurassic World'd that bitch.”  

“Yeah, that's disgusting.  And you're the one who suggested I put it there, what with the blackouts... and stuff...” his voice trailed off, like he was suddenly sorry for bringing it up.

“I was having a mid-life crisis.  You shouldn't have listened to anything I was saying.”

“You're 25.”

“Yeah well, the average lifespan for this little team is getting shorter every year.”  There was silence on the other end and you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the couch, instantly regretting your words.  “Too soon?”  You asked, but didn't bother waiting for a reply.  You laughed bitterly and then had to bite your tongue before it could turn into a sob.  

“Y'know...Maybe I should come over?”  Cisco didn't acknowledge the question, which was probably for the best. “We can watch The Goonies, eat some junk food, paint each others nails... Just like old times?”

You idly glanced at the worn down, chewed-up remnants of your fingernails and felt the start of all the emotions you'd been pushing down the last few months threaten to well up again.  Back before 'that day' happened, as you called it in your head, you'd always kept your nails looking gorgeous.  New acrylics every few weeks, fancy polishes, glittery tips, sometimes the occasional nail art.  

Then your brother had died and you'd stopped caring.  The acrylics you hadn't already painfully picked at on the days leading up to the funeral had finally all fallen off, and after that, you'd started biting your natural nails down to the quick, a habit leftover from your childhood.

It had been almost four months since you and the rest of Team Flash had buried him, and you'd tried to move on.   To say it was 'difficult' was an understatement.  And everyone had said they understood and they had felt the pain of loss before... they'd do what they could to help you get through it... blah blah blah.

But they didn't understand.  No one did.  When you lost your older brother, you lost part of yourself... literally.  The night S.T.A.R. Labs nearly exploded was the night you and Keith had become bonded with dark matter; it created a link between you... and not just thoughts and emotions.  The Entity you could form, merging two bodies into one; becoming a being more powerful, stronger and faster than a normal human.

You'd only been working with the Flash for a few months when 'that day' happened.  A telekinetic blast from a raging metahuman had caused you to lose concentration and you and Keith were torn apart, your bodies flying in opposite directions.  You'd landed on soft grass with barely a scratch.  Your brother...

Closing your eyes once again you could still see his body hanging from the crumbling concrete, the jagged edges of two pieces of rebar slick with his blood.  Some nights you still woke up screaming, the feeling of the phantom steel piercing your heart.  You had felt his life force draining away and with a guttural scream you'd flung yourself toward him, already well aware that you wouldn't reach him in time to reform.  

The physical body the two of you became was strong enough to return from near death, and if you could have just gotten to him in time...

But you were mere seconds too late, and your fingers had grasped at dead flesh.  You'd tried to be angry at Barry for not seeing what was happening until too late.  You'd also tried to be angry at Cisco for not opening a breach that would have gotten you there faster.  But down deep in your shattered heart, you knew that the only one you could truly be angry at was the meta now sitting in the secure wing of Iron Heights.

After the fight, someone had pried you away from Keith's body, you weren't sure who and it didn't seem important to ask after the fact.  Your mind was blanking out, almost like a glitch.  You could remember flashes of memory, a few seconds here and there, like someone was turning a light switch on and off in your head at random intervals.  

It took a full day for you to come back to yourself for any real length of time.  They told you it was like your body was on auto pilot in those blank spaces.  Without someone to watch and guide you, you would just wander aimlessly, vacant eyes looking at nothing and not responding to touch or sound.  Caitlin had run the tests and while you didn't really understand the complexities, you knew there was something very wrong with your brain.  It was just... shutting down randomly.  Losing the link to your brother so viciously had ripped out some essential parts that were needed to keep it running smoothly.  

By the grace of god, you were lucid enough to remember bits of Keith's funeral, though Cisco had taken it upon himself to make all the arrangements.  You didn't have any other family you were close to; Keith was it.  So there hadn't really been too much that needed to be taken care of.

They buried Keith in a small cemetery on the north side, next to your parents.  Someone said a few words, someone placed some flowers on the casket...  someone must have driven you home.  It was all a blur.

Without Keith, there was no Entity.  You had no power.  You didn't even have the brains to be helpful.  At least Keith had been studying biometric engineering.  At 17, you'd dropped out of high school three months before the rest of your class would graduate and started working as a server in a cafe; the only job you'd ever known.  And now you couldn't even do that.  And so, Cisco had placed the tracker in your arm, and then outfitted your home with some sort of scanner that wouldn't open the door to let you out without an eye scan and verbal command.  It kept you from wandering.  

The implant would also alert Cisco's phone when your heart rate and blood pressure dipped, signaling that you had slipped into a blackout, just in case you weren't at home and needed someone to come find you.  It had been happening less often, but still enough to be a problem. Less than three times a week if you were lucky; and on a good day you'd only blackout for a half-hour or so.  Good days were few and far between.  Driving was out of the question, as was holding down any sort of job.  Most days you spent at home, keeping yourself busy with old hobbies...  a hundred sub-par paintings hidden in the basement... boxes of half-knit sweaters and scarves.  Your brother's room was filled with hundreds of mini origami cranes... he'd always thought they were neat so you left a few in there every day.  

Everyone had tried to convince you to stick around S.T.A.R. Labs more often. They said they could find something to keep you busy, but you knew that it was more that the team wanted to keep you where they could see you.  You understood, they were your friends, the only ones you had left.  But every time you walked in the Cortex, all you could see was the empty spot by your side where your brother should have been.

So you stayed at home, roaming the halls that used to be filled with the voices of your mother, your father, and Keith; a different but more familiar form of emotional torture.  Delivery services brought you groceries and Cisco or Barry checked in on you when the blackouts started.  Occasionally Harry or Caitlin would stop by when the boys were busy, and you were gracious and courteous and the perfect host. You smiled at the right moments, told them you were doing okay, and let them give you awkward hugs when they left.

All of them could see through the facade.  You knew it, they knew you knew it...

“Hey... are you spacing again?”

“What?” You heard his words and realized that yes, you had been.  The worn down nubs of your fingernails were still staring back at you. “No, I'm fine.”

“Riiiight. I'm on my way.”

“Don't, Cisco.  Please.”  But he wasn't listening.  

“Too late.”  

The slight rush of air from the breach opening behind the couch caused your hair to float listlessly around your face and you sighed in annoyance, leaning over to hang up the call.  Not bothering to turn around and look at the portal, you reached over and picked up the bowl and spoon from where you'd set them down on the coffee table.

The blue glow that had briefly lit up your living room suddenly cut off and you knew Cisco was standing behind you.  “Isn't there some sort of superhero code against using your powers when it's not an emergency?” You questioned, dipping the spoon into your bowl and taking a large bite.

“Uh, have you MET Barry?  Using his powers when it's not an emergency is pretty much all he does.”  

You sat back and let your head fall against the top of the cushion, stretching your neck back until you could see Cisco looking down at you from behind the couch, his head tilted in concern.  “Hey.” You sullenly greeted him, resigning yourself to his company. Sighing, you closed your eyes.  “You really didn't need to come.”

“Well, you've ignored the invites for the last five movie nights, and you weren't returning anyone else's texts... and the whole spacing out again.”

“I'm fine.” Opening your eyes again, you watched as Cisco made his way around the couch to flop down next to you.

“Besides,” he continued, “I think this qualifies as an emergency.  You're sitting alone in your underwear listening to Sarah McLachlan at five in the afternoon eating... is that a bowl of brownie batter?”

“Triple Fudge, yeah.  You don't like me using the oven, remember?”  You looked down at your bare legs and wrinkled your nose in annoyance. “And, I'm wearing a tank top.”

He looked you over with skeptical eye and shook his head.  “Barely. Girl, you're about half an inch away from a nip slip.”  Cisco gestured with his eyes down at the strap of the light pink tank that had been sliding dangerously low off your shoulder for the better part of an hour.  “It's a good thing I've already seen you naked, otherwise I'd think you were trying to turn me on right now.”

“I was on fire that time. I had to get my clothes off.”  The memory brought a small smile to your face, but it was brief and bittersweet.

He was still looking at you, eyes running up and down your mostly unclothed body, but there was nothing suggestive in his gaze.  “You haven't been eating, again.”  It wasn't a question.  Cisco sighed and rubbed the side of his face.  

You held up the bowl of brownie batter in answer and took another bite.

“You can't keep this up, it's not healthy.”

“Says the guy who survives on burgers, soda and hard candy.”  

“Kelly...”

You hated it when he got that tone in his voice... the I-care-about-you-and-I'm-really-freaking-worried-about-you tone.  It made you squirm uncomfortably.  “I don't mean to... you know that, Cisco.  I just... forget.”

With the loss of your brother's consciousness, you'd also oddly lost some of your ability to feel physical pain.  Things still hurt... just not as much.  And you weren't really able to tell when you were hungry anymore.  Even with Cisco texting you to remember to eat a few times a day... you forgot.

“This is why you need to be back at S.T.A.R. Labs.  I can take care of you there.”  The two of you had had this conversation so many times, you'd almost memorized it.  But this time there was one subtle difference that you almost didn't catch.  I can take care of you there.   Not 'we'.  Not 'the team'.  I. He continued on, trying to lighten the mood.  “I mean... I suppose I could move most of the Cortex's systems here if I had to...”  He made a show of looking around your mother's beach cottage inspired living room; usually a bright and cheery room, but now dark and drab with the curtains all drawn and the lights off.  “All the wires and electronics might not quite go with the décor... but I can make it work.”   He gave you a smile that at one time had made your heart flutter, but now seemed only heartbreaking.    

“I'm not your responsibility, and I don't need you to be my savior.” You frowned and turned your face from his.  Refused to meet his eyes. Why couldn't he just leave you alone?  “Besides, I'd just distract you from the important things.”

“You don't think you're important?”  He almost sounded offended and you swallowed back a sarcastic response.  You were clutching the spoon and bowl tightly still, and you almost thought he would have reached to hold your hands if not for that small simple barrier.  

“Not anymore.” Your words were quiet... strained, and your jaw was starting to clench and tighten as you continued to fight back the emotions.

There had been a time... a moment between you and Cisco before Keith died...  The night before 'that day', a Team Flash movie night, when you'd sat with him on Barry's couch, one glass of wine too many, and you'd giggled and laid your head in his lap when sitting upright had seemed like just too much effort.

He'd placed a hand awkwardly on your shoulder, then eventually stroked your hair as the night wore on.  You didn't remember what the movie was anymore.  When everyone else had called it a night, Cisco had taken you home and grinned like a schoolboy when he walked you to the front door.  You'd said goodnight and thanked him for the ride... and then he'd grabbed your hand and bitten his lip.  You'd looked at him curiously, but he couldn't quite meet your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”  The words had tumbled out of his mouth so quickly you almost didn't catch them. Certainly, you hadn't heard him right.  You weren't sure how he could stand there and look so nervous in his Star Wars t-shirt and faded gray hoodie, and yet seem so wildly confident.  

You'd stood there, utterly shocked.  It would be a lie to say you'd never thought about kissing him.. he was sweet and nerdy and funny... but way out of your league.  He and your brother could talk for hours, going on and on about sciencey things way above your head... you were a glorified waitress for god's sake, not to mention a high-school dropout.

“I know, I'm not really your type.” He'd continued, trying to look anywhere but right at you, probably afraid of your answer. “But I thought maybe-”

You'd cut him off with a kiss, perhaps a bit sloppy, but you were giggling against his mouth and then you knew he was smiling too.  It wasn't the passionate embrace of a Nicholas Sparks romance, but you could feel something there.  Something that was definitely worth exploring. When you finally pulled away from each other, you were blushing and laughing and everything seemed so perfect all of a sudden.  Another small kiss, and he had bid you goodnight with a brilliant smile.  

The next time he saw you, you were screaming and clutching Keith's corpse.

The two of you never talked about that kiss.  It was like it had never happened...  and maybe it hadn't.  There were a lot of things you weren't sure about anymore and perhaps it was just some happy hallucination your mind had come up with to fill one of your memory gaps.  Better to pretend that was it than think about the truth.

“Not anymore?!  How can you even say that?”  Cisco was nearly beside himself, gesturing randomly with one hand.  “You're important to me, to all of us.”   He pushed himself off the couch and started pacing trying to keep his voice calm. “When you lost your powers, you didn't stop being our friend, Kelly.”

You dropped the spoon into the chipped orange bowl and reached up to wipe away the start of a tear.  “I can't do anything, Cisco.  I'm just..  I'm useless.”

“You're not usel-”

“I AM!” Slamming the bowl down so hard on the glass that a spiderweb crack suddenly marred the otherwise pristine surface of your mother's cherished antique coffee table, you pulled yourself up from the sofa and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears.  You could feel it starting to bubble up.  The despair and pain, the feeling of hopelessness.  “I've lost everything!  I lost Keith, I lost our powers!    I'm not strong or fast or smart!”  You lashed out and knocked over a vase filled with long-dead flowers, a frustrated groan escaping your lips when there was no satisfying crash as it thudded to the hardwood but didn't break.  “I can't even leave the house without worrying I might not make it back by myself!  I don't know why you're wasting your time on me!”

“Kelly, stop.”  A hand touched your shoulder and you shrugged it off angrily.  

You ignored the pleading in his voice and stalked toward the kitchen, tears blurring your vision so much that you nearly ran into the door frame.  With a anguished cry you stopped, turning to brace yourself with both hands on the counter top.  The wetness falling from your eyes seemed to grow and it wasn't long before you found you didn't actually have the strength to hold yourself up.  How long had it been since you'd slept?  You didn't remember.  A day or two.  One more thing you didn't keep very well track of.  With a sob you started to slide to the floor, not surprised when Cisco caught you from behind and gently helped you down.  The old sea green linoleum was cold on your bare legs but finding the strength to care was proving difficult.  

Without saying a word, he carefully sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight.  Absolutely sure that you looked like a blubbering idiot, you clung to him and buried your face against his shoulder, trying to stop the hiccuping sobs that racked your body.  You hadn't had a good honest-to-god breakdown since the day of Keith's funeral and it seemed like this one was overdue.  Vaguely aware of him starting to whisper soft soothing words and the feel of his hands, one holding your arm, the other wiping away the trails of your tears, you continued to clutch at him, suddenly starved for the feel of another body close to yours.

Time trickled by, and you didn't know how long you'd been on the kitchen floor when the tears finally stopped.  Even after, when your head was still on his shoulder and your breathing evened out, he still just held you, murmuring gentle things against your forehead.

“Cisco?” When you were finally able to speak again, you weren't quite sure what to say.

“Yes, chica?”

“You know I hate it when you call me a chicken.”  The words left your mouth before you even had time to think about it, and you let out a strangled laugh at the end and tightened the grip on his shirt.  It was an old joke between the two of you, one that had evolved out of a slightly embarrassing misunderstanding.  Suffice to say, Spanish was not one of your strong suits.  “Sorry.” You whispered quickly and closed your eyes, your cheeks flushing softly.  

You could hear the smile in his voice though. “Don't be.  I missed that.”  He pressed a gentle kiss to the hair just above your ear and then gently bumped his forehead against yours.  It didn't seem like it was possible to snuggle any closer to him, but you tried to anyway.  The warmth radiating off of him was almost euphoric; it had been so long since you'd let anyone truly hold you for any length of time.

“I know you think you'd be a distraction... but it's worse not having you there.”  His words were soft and you sighed heavily, not ready to start this conversation yet again.  But you didn't have the energy to move, and if it wasn't now, then Cisco would only bring it up again later.

“But if I was there-”

“If you were there,” Cisco reached up with one hand and tucked a stray length of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn't be worried about you for every second of every day.”  The soft plink plink of your perpetually dripping faucet echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen as you tried to form a response, and he must have taken it as an encouraging sign when you didn't immediately argue with him this time.  “Look.... just think about it, please.  And I mean really, truly, honestly think about it.  We can start small.  Like... one day a week.  I'll order pizzas, we can play World of Warcraft when Harry's not in the room.  Besides, I seriously need my pocket healer back.”  He squeezed you a little tighter.  “You would not believe the randoms I've gotten stuck with lately.”  

Plucking at a stray piece of fuzz on the front of his t-shirt, you sighed and crinkled your nose in thought.  “Just one day a week?”  This morning you wouldn't have considered it.  But now, sitting here in Cisco's arms, having found a badly needed emotional release, you thought that maybe.... just maybe... you could try.  

“Just one day, little chicken.”

“Okay.” You whispered, trying not to immediately regret it.  

“Great, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at 8.”

“Tomorrow?” He didn't miss the nervous stutter in your voice.

“Yep. I would recommend wearing some pants.”  You pulled away enough to glare up at him, but found it was really hard to be mad at that wonderfully mischievous smile on his face.  “Or not.  I don't mind either way.”

“Y'know I don't have to heal your sorry ass.  I can just let you die.”  You forced the words out, trying for playful, but knowing that it just didn't quite hit the mark yet.  It would be awhile, you knew, before things felt right again... but dammit you were going to try.  You would try for him.  

He laughed anyway and for the first time since 'that day' a flash of hope found it's way into your heart; and you thought maybe... maybe someday you would be okay again.

fini?

I may or may not continue this one eventually... I've kind of fallen in love with this Reader/OC.  And now I want to see her and Cisco actually get together.  What do you guys think?   Anyone out there?  

[smoothshift]

Car Enthusiast Buys a Tesla Model 3 Performance: It's an Electric Muscle Car via /r/cars

Car Enthusiast Buys a Tesla Model 3 Performance: It's an Electric Muscle Car

TL:DR: At its core, the car is a stereotypical amercian muscle sedan, but electric. And I think it’s quite cheap for what it is.

  Let me preface this with a warning that in the text below I likely offended plenty of car enthusiasts and Tesla fans in some way. I apologize for that, these are just my personal views.

  I’m your stereotypical car enthusiast. The latest eight new/used performance cars I’ve had were all stick-shift and either RWD or Turbo-AWD. A few were hatches/wagons. The last few were all RWD. Over the years I also co-drove a bunch of other fun cars (and lots of Miatas) at autox. I’ve had my Chevy SS for 4+ years now, and only recently got the itch for a new performance car to dailydrive. I ‘normally’ get the itch after less than two years, so the SS was/is pretty awesome. The new car had to be not slower than my SS and feel different/special enough to justify the switch. See the bottom for a list of cars I cross-shopped.

  I was thinking of a BEV for a while. With the nearest Tesla service center 170 miles away I never really considered one. Until May, when a new service center opened in Toledo, OH, just south of the Michigan border and like 30 minutes away from me. Once I learned that, I made an appointment for a ‘demonstration’ drive in Troy, MI. Drove a base Model 3 with ‘premium’ interior and a dual-motor 90(?) KWh Model S to get a sense of acceleration and was sold. Ordered a black Model 3 Performance (P3D is how people call it on Tesla forums), with white seats and no extra ‘full-self-driving’ vaporware for an extra $6k. Picked it up about a week ago and drove it home from Cleveland. Been driving it every day since, have about 500 miles already.

Obligatory picture.

  A perfect one-liner to describe it to an enthusiast: an electric muscle car. And I mean it in the stereotypical sense, ignoring good handling the Camaro/Mustang have these days. The best thing about the P3D is its acceleration/launch. It’s effortless, quite violent, repeatable, pretty thrilling (gotta make sure to have empty-ish stomach), and very usable in regular driving. For the money, it’s a ridiculous bargain. All the new cars I’ve tested in the price range are slower in a straight line. For all of them, to get their stated street acceleration you’d be risking ‘reckless-driving’ tickets for tire squeal/slip on launch. The rest of the car is okayish (to the point of me thinking getting a tacky license UMichigan plate that’d say Mehsla). Fit and finish is just passable (just like a lot of muscle cars), handling is decent but not spectacular, and the tires won’t last long if pushed. The basic autopilot I got is nice for highway cruising behind a truck on a nice sunny day to save electricity, but I wouldn’t trust it with anything else. The “self-driving capability” gives you enhanced autopilot which will change lanes by itself. I got to try it briefly on my test-drive and it was scary at how cautious and undecisive it was. I am virtually certain there will be no ‘robotaxis’ based on Model3s in a year. Not doable w/o plenty of LIDARs.

  But the way the P3D slingshots from a stop makes a long list of minor annoyances (see below) kinda irrelevant. Now, people do get used to power. So, it’s possible that I’ll miss the noise of a V8. But at this point I’m not so sure. Think about why car enthusiasts are attached to the noise. Probably because racecar. Those have free flowing exhausts to go faster. But if you can go faster w/o the noise in the EV should you be attached to the noise? If so, just buy a Harley. Don’t get me wrong, I still like a nice exhaust since that preference got engrained deep into my brain over the years, but I think I’m gonna be fine w/o the engine noise in a car that’s fast w/o it. I’d prefer to have more responsive/communicative steering before the noise.

  I’m not a Musk apologist, neither I’m a Tesla corporate fan. Probably closer to the opposite. At the moment I think the Tesla may not survive the next recession+stock market downturn on their own. So why did I buy one? Mostly because I think that at the moment TSLA stock investors are basically subsidizing Tesla customer prices. If Tesla had to stand on their own and show consistent profit margins, P3D-level performance would be a lot more expensive. Look at Audi/Jag new EV offerings. Slower/heavier/shorter range, tens of thousands of $$ more expensive. I took this as a sign of things to come: once Tesla brand gets acquired by a larger manufacturer, prices will likely go up because that’s what people pay for this level of performance from established manufactures. So, if you’re in a position to buy it, there’s a service center near you, and you have a warm garage (or live where there’s no real winter), go schedule a test drive, you might be surprised. Having another car as a back-up is a plus though.

  I don’t want to make this a super-long post, so here's just a bunch of random points about the Model 3, some from an enthusiast’s point of view I haven't seen covered much:

Little need to warm-up before flooring it, at least during the three warm seasons, unlike normal cars which need 5-10 minutes to warm the engine/transmission oil (there’s still the differential fluid to warm up though)

The ‘Performance’ model is really all about straight line acceleration, especially the launch.

Almost no camber stock

No way to add more with stock hardware, no aftermarket hardware other than lowering springs or coilovers to pick up some much needed camber.

As a result, tracking/autox-ing requires stupid-high tire pressures not to kill tires very quickly, but they will still die just regular-quickly

Very limited aftermarket suspension options

Not much clearance to upper control arm for wider tires/more camber while staying close to stock offset.

Not much space in the wheel well to go wider w/o killing paintwork by having the wheels stick out.

Thick stud bolts, so many popular aftermarket wheels might not fit, despite a popular 5x114.3 bolt pattern. Weird shape of rear calipers that limits wheel choices further.

Has bigger Brembo brakes though.

Only tried the ‘track mode’ a handful of times yet. It’s a bit detrimental to street acceleration, and brake vectoring makes the turn-in a bit livelier. Haven’t pushed it yet.

Handling is pretty good, especially for the weight. It feels less heavy than my SS with Magneride in Track mode. The wheel has nice weight and very quick ration, but very little feed back. But you can hear the tires. The first time you hear those work the turn is a revelation previously muffled by engine noises.

It's pretty comfortable even with 20” wheels. Low center of gravity means the springs can be softer w/o much body roll.

The 20” wheels are reportedly very prone to bending, looking to change those out soon.

I find myself driving it in a lot more relaxed manner w/o the engine growling me on.

Doing interior mods with the car plugged in/music playing/AC on is nice. In a regular car it’d require hooking up a battery tender and would still be no AC.

There's a considerable amount of condensation from battery thermal management and A/C. Make sure your garage drains work well.

Seats are fine for me. Felt a bit tight at first, but all good now. It may be a problem for bigger butts. Feels like driver’s seat has a hair more lateral support than my Chevy SS (low bar to surpass). Not performance seats in any way.

Pretty decent adjustable (in/out up/down) lumbar support.

Pre-warming/cooling the car via the app is nice.

Regen braking will come natural to stick-shift drivers. Feels just like driving in 2nd-3rd gears. Lift off the gas and the car slows deliberately but not too aggressively. There’s also a setting to make this feel more like a typical automatic car with some loss of efficiency.

Order to delivery was barely 10 days. Felt weird, in an instant gratification kind of way, after having to generally wait months for my recent new cars.

Rear visibility is pretty poor. Excellent view out of the front, however. No dash really opens up a lot of space for the eye.

  Annoyances:  

Automatic emergency braking and Emergency Lane Departure assist needs to be disabled every time you drive. I hope there’s a software fix to this at some point.

Software bugs. Had to reboot the screen a few times already. Those were while parked, but still annoying. But in general tablet for an interface doesn’t bother me at all. The software in generaly is pretty polished and intuitive.

Paint quality. Looked okaish at delivery. After washing the wax away, it was terrible. Caked in water spots on most of the hood (but not elsewhere). Spent whole Saturday polishing. Only got it to ‘passable’. Orange peel level is again similar to some of the Detroit products.

Jacking it up would be a pain w/o a lift. It only has 4 designated jacking spots, so no clue how one would jack one wheel and put a jack stand in there at the same time.

The car does not come with a spare, nor is there an inflator kit.

No seat ventilation/cooling. Seats can get pretty warm.

No ‘basic’ cruise control, only the ‘traffic aware’ one, which will come up on someone doing 10 under and sit there.

  Today is the last day of my 7-day return window, and I’m keeping it. Just for reference, if one wanted to return, it could take 1-2 months to get their money back from Tesla. If one wanted a replacement car in that time, they’d likely have to get a new loan with their financial institution.

  Now I just have to make sure not to get rear-ended. Cause that could lead to 2-4 months of wait for replacement body parts. Statistically, it’s a 2-3% probability event in a given year. I hope the situation improves in the future.

  I’m definitely keeping my S2000 for raw feel and top-down driving. Not sure on the SS. It’s too nice to keep it as a winter back-up car.

  For reference, here’s what I looked at before pulling the trigger on a Tesla: I’ve looked at a bunch of different slighly used C7 Corvettes. Non-Z06 ones didn’t feel different enough from my SS to justify giving up two doors for. The Z06 is awesome, but the power is not really usable below 40-60mph. It’s a waste of a car to daily it. The GT350 was the frontrunner for a while, but in the end it’s conceptually very similar to the SS with just a different noise (heavenly, yes). Also, living in Michigan, I see a least a couple GT350s every day. The ZL1 looks/visibility are not my cup of tea. The M3/4 is nice, but the sound they make during warm-up absolutely turns me off. I’d also want to do a euro-delivery if I were to get one, but doing that right now exposes one to risks of tariffs going up on euro cars over the next few months. Those are also quite a bit more expensive in livable configs. The M2c is somehow too small and too heavy for a compact car at the same time. If it was available as a hatch I’d own it already though. That pretty much exhausted my stick-shift options. Then I decided to widen the search to sigh automatics. I’ve looked at discounted new MY18 Alfa Quadrifoglios (got a CEL during a test-drive, lol), Audi TT-RS (the dealer wouldn’t let me launch it, naturally. It felt fast but not crazy fast otherwise, probably the most similar car in straight line performance). Also tried the G70 Sport. It’s pretty nice, but not for the price they are asking. I’ve tried a Hellcat Charger, and the 392 Charger a while back. Those are nice, but I’d rather supercharge my SS instead. Same feeling about the ATS-V. Throwing a blower on the SS was starting to look like a plan until I test-drove a Tesla. I was thinking of an electric car to daily for a while. In Michigan, GM doesn’t offer much in a way of sweet Bolt lease deals they have in Cali, and even for a recently-discounted prices I couldn’t get over how slow it is other than off the line. Didn’t consider the new Audi/Jag EVs, too expensive, too slow, too heavy.

[eridianshores-blog]

Ezra Bridger and Death Trooper - Character Cars

I mentioned these 2 new(ish) character cars a few days back and posted some quick screen grabs, but as of a couple of hours ago, I now own both!  I’ll let you in on a little secret too - I actually bought the same 2 from another seller just because I wanted 2 “clean” Death Troopers and I thought I might hang on to an unopened Ezra for a while.  For the record, the Death Troopers are pretty easy to find (either singly as the new “clean” version or the battle-damaged version packaged with a battle-damaged Stormtrooper) but Ezra still seems to be in short supply.  A few sellers are getting them in small amounts, but they seem to go fast.

Ok, so now that I’ve got these bad boys all to myself, let’s take a closer look.

Ezra Bridger

"This adventurous rally car has the street smarts and independent spirit of young hero and Jedi-in-training, Ezra.”

“Ready to race into action for the REbellion, the headstrong vehicle sports a helmet-like design and Ezra’s iconic weapons: a lightsaber and slingshot in the rocker panels.  The long road ahead will be tough and treacherous, as evidenced by the deep battle scar on the hood, but this fierce fighter possesses the grit, speed, and courage to fight for the greater good!”

Let’s be honest, the original Ezra isn’t the most...exciting...of the Star Wars Character Cars.  The design is sort of flat and cartoony, and he sortta looks like a muddled version of your typical original trilogy-era starfighter pilot.  This new “battle-damaged” version is essentially the same, but there are some noteworthy changes, the most obvious being the 2 scratches indicating damage.  The cool thing is that these scratches are actually in the mold; you can feel the indentations in contrast to other battle-damaged versions who simply sport different paint jobs.

The other big(ish?) change is Ezra’s lightsaber.  On the original model, the lightsaber is simply a section of the right rocker panel painted blue.  It’s plain enough to see, though not quite as “cool looking” as other lightsabers on character cars.  With the new battle-damaged variant, a portion of the rocker panel has actually been omitted from the main mold and replaced by a clear blue piece, much more in line with the other character car lightsabers.

The remaining differences I’ve noticed are just small variations in color, of interest to only hardcore nerds.  For one, the antenna on the back of the original is gray, and on the new one it’s white.  Also on the front left, about where the headlight would be, there’s a jagged little lightning bolt thing that appears to be derived from Ezra’s helmet.  The bolt is yellowish on the original and darker and more orange on the new one; there appears to be a similar change on the right side where we have that weird little separate piece that I don’t really know what is - the yellow is updated to the darker orange as well.

Overall Ezra may not be may favorite of the series, but hey, I’m cool with giving the cartoons some representation.  Plus the improved lightsaber is pretty cool.

Death Trooper

"Death Trooper is an elite form of Stormtrooper and part of Imperial leader Krennic’s personal army.  Poised to destroy all enemies, this villainous vehicle brandishes a blaster rifle and grenades on its battle-ready build, resembling the fearsome fighters’ helmets and masks.”

“Armed to attack the road with unmatched velocity and ferocity - will the Death Trooper be powerful enough to defeat the Rebel Alliance?”

The differences between the clean and battle-damaged Death Trooper cars are a bit more conventional than Ezra’s updates.  Basically the original (battle-damaged) features a number of painted-on gray scratches, mostly on the left side of the hood, the top of the cabin, the frontmost right corner, and then the edge of the matte plastic flap on the rear right.  Not that exciting, I know, but clearly these were intended to be 2 “different” (distinct, maybe?) vehicles.

Well there you have it!  As I said, this new version of Ezra can be difficult to pin down.  The best thing to do is stay vigilant on eBay and buy it as soon as you see it.  (As of right this moment, there are none available.)  The Death Trooper shouldn’t be any trouble at all.  If it’s an original Ezra you’re after, you should be able to pick up the TIE Factory Takedown trackset for about $20 - $25 at most Wal-marts - be sure you go to Wal-mart, ‘cause Target doesn’t stock this stuff, at least not any around here.  If you’re lucky you may be able to pick up the Blast and Battle Lightsaber Launcher for about $10; I’ve only ever seen it at Barnes & Noble and even then it’s been rare.  As far as the original battle-damaged Death Trooper, you can find these pretty much anywhere in a 2-pack alongside a battle-damaged Imperial Stormtrooper.  The Targets around here have been woefully devoid of Star Wars Character Cars for the most part, but these things are usually in plentiful supply at Wal-mart and Toys R Us.

Have you picked up either of the new cars?  Let me know what you think!