#so here's the best tip: block anything that even mildly annoys you

[tomonari-nue]

using the block button liberally and for even the most pettiest shit has really improved my overall experience with fandom but it’s also lowkey hilarious bc i miss even the mildest of discourse so i feel like im just sitting in a lawn-chair, lifting my sunglasses slightly while sipping a can of root beer like “what?”

[jjkpls]

Flavours (m) - 1

> genre : angst, implied smut

> pairing : kim taehyung x reader (f)

> total words : 1.4k

> content/warnings : e2l!au, office!au, fuckboi!tae, mature language, undesired dickpic, mention of sexual harassement, the office boss is a dickhead, mention of anxiety

masterlist - next

Greasy

He is so greasy. He's grease embodied.

From afar, he's staring. One hand holding the little coffee he's ordered, the other is high close to his face. He has an absentminded smile on, with his long and thin index finger, the tip of it, caressing his bottom lip. His sharp dark eyes are solely aimed at her.

The beautiful girl doesn't notice for a long, long while. She's being talked left and right by different managers and your boss, all very manly right now, as they try to welcome her and introduce the company and the building.

Then finally, she notices. She must feel the heat of his gaze on her face, she turns slightly his way, looks curiously at him until he waves his hand, smiling gently, with a little wiggle of the fingers. She nods in greeting, smiles, and then gets back to her conversation at hands. That's the moment you decide you have seen enough. She's turned her back to him, and he's still gazing, drooling all over the fucking place.

Gross.

He's also blocking the entrance to the lounge area. That's why you bump into him, totally on purpose, even grazing the side of his Italian shoes with your heel leaving a cute little personalized imprint in the leather. You hoped to have his coffee spill a bit, at least on his hand, but unfortunately, gravity must be one of his bitches and doesn't care to please you on this one.

You pass by him, he barely gives you an acknowledging brush of the eye, busy as he is, actively restraining himself from getting a boner while simultaneously eye-fucking this poor girl he doesn't know.

The poor girl is about to get even poorer, you realize, as you hear the loud voice of your boss getting nearer. Taehyung chooses this moment to back away from the entryway, aiming for the wall where he can lean, because people like Taehyung lean here and there like they're fucking posing instead of say, using one of the numerous chairs available as you do.

When the big boss arrives and sees you there, his smile grows only wider and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.

"Perfect! Here, you have the prettiest!" You giggle, a bit sheepish, ignoring the way Taehyung is observing you like he's trying to see it but can't. The boss adds your name after and you wonder what the girl's nickname will be. Not that you care so much for yours but it would be quite awkward to have her steal it from you. Even though, she is very beautiful (no homo). "For anything, any question, you can go to her. You're in the best of hands with her, right?" You nod and he asks again, "Right?" He hates when you don't use words but you also hate speaking uselessly. He's the big boss though, you can’t really stand him but you're smart enough to humour him.

"Yes, of course!" He's satisfied with the answer. His attention switch to Taehyung whom he gives a mildly unenthusiastic look. "Here's Kim Taehyung. He's also part of the accounting team." Taehyung does more of his eye performance. Something that should probably be illegal, strongly looks like sexual harassment. But she doesn't seem that fazed. Smiling kindly to both him and you. "This is Alena, she's our new intern starting tomorrow. You'll take good care of her, right?"

"Sure." You reassure at the same time Taehyung says, "Will be my pleasure."

Greasy. as. fuck.

They leave and Taehyung decides he doesn't need to Vogue anymore therefore he comes to sit next to you, on the sofa, when there are a million other available seats. Very annoying. But you're not moving for his stupid ass.

"You need to befriend her, talk to her about me." You frown, taping a little more aggressively on your phone from the irritation his baritone voice, too close to your ear, brings.

"And why exactly would I do that?"

"Tell her I'm nice and funny and (more importantly) packed." He goes on, ignoring blatantly your question.

"I don't know any of these things to be true though and I don't wanna lie." You mumble with a quiet enjoyment you choose not to express. When you only show annoyance and boredom as a reaction to him talking to you, he still fucking sticks to your ass so what would happen if you'd show any sign of even mild content? You don't even want to risk it.

"You don't?" Your attention raises to him from your phone only long enough to see the look he's giving you. Insistent stare, cocked eyebrow and dubious pout.

"Did you delete the picture I sent you?" This actually makes you groan.

About this picture. The cursed picture. That's Taehyung in all his glorious grease. You're still confused about how he even thought that this was a good idea, that he could allow himself to do that. Point of the matter is, he sent you a dick pic a long time ago, when you barely knew each other.

He's Seokjin's, your favourite cousin, dear dongsaeng and as so, when he heard from you that your company was hiring he placed a word about Kim Taehyung. There's nothing you wouldn't do for your cousin and trusting him, you simply got him the job. You hate this place but this place loves and relies on you. Therefore you didn't even have to do much to have them consider seriously his application. He passed the interview with flying colours because Taehyung is good at talking his way. And the very same day, he was stalking you through the hallways to find you and thank you personally and ask for your number. He wanted to take you out to dinner as a thankful gift and even if you acted coy out of politeness, that sounded amazing as there's nothing that tastes better than free food as a broke adult. Therefore you very willingly so gave out your number and the very same night, how surprising, instead of receiving maybe a text naming a day and place, came in a dick pic.

Him, in cursed grey joggers, tongue out and winky face on, one hand helping the cloth to wrap perfectly around the monstrous thing he was hiding under his pants. The only reason you didn't call your boss or at least Seokjin to report the offence was that you spent too much time trying to figure out what the deal of this thing was. You could not believe it actually was his dick. After further analysis, either he hid a monster rubber cock under there and took the picture, either he is indeed packed.

But it doesn't matter.

You despise rude creep fuckboys and he is the very epitome of it. Hence you kind of hating his guts. You're too good, or too stupid maybe, and didn't say anything to anyone, feeling sort of petty for even considering getting him fired already. The prospect of having to work with him filled you with so much anxiety, you wondered if good karma was really worth it. Turns out he's not half bad at his job. He's not as dumb as others in your team. He is lazy though. And obnoxious and annoying too. But at least, he can do his job without having you explain over and over again to another windy brain how the hell they're supposed to do what they are paid to do.

You did not keep the picture by the way. You never saved it on your phone. But you also never deleted it from the conversation. After closing the messaging app, you just never came back to it. Because you never answered, he did not try and insist further. At least, he can take a clue. Boys usually can't.

When the following day you welcomed him with the nastiest, gloomiest glare you own, he shut down completely and didn't mention it. He could have apologized. Honestly, you would have appreciated that. But that's Kim Taehyung, you're pretty sure he can't physically do that.

It has been months, almost half a year now, and he feels comfortable enough to bring that damn picture to the table and this really irks your tolerance for him. You hate talking, especially when it's not necessary. And here comes a perfect instant where it comes full force. You have eyes expressive enough that will do the talking your mouth doesn't feel like doing.

He sees them, almost shudder, before he gets up mumbling to himself like a petulant ass child, "just asking, was a good one", and leaves.

Finally.

An actual break.

A/N: hello! here, we’re starting! tell me, how are you feeling? what are you expecting? do you hate tae already or not yet? as always, thank you so much for giving my fics some of your time, i hope you have a wonderful day, and even better week :)

if you want to be added to the tag list, please, ask on the teaser/masterlist post, thank you

if you want to support me on ko-fi

taglist: @hoefortaeshands​ @ggukkieland​ @somewhereofftheglobe​ @deliciouslydisturbed365​ @codeinebelle​ @takochelle​ @teresaisla​ @taehugger​ @flavaflav​ @joon-july-agustd-septaember​ @mwitsmejk​ @bunbundesu

[lxvestxned]

y/n is massively afraid of toads, but tries to at least touch trevor for the first time with the graceful help of her best friend neville. while also in complete denial about the feelings they are starting to have for neville. fluff + gender neutral reader! 2500 words.

side note: please don’t make fun of me if i got toad-logic wrong in this one — the fear is real bro. LMAO.

Neville talks about Trevor nearly the same way one might talk about a younger brother. Mildly annoying, but also so very important to the point that he could not even remember his life before him.

Trevor couldn’t be a better gardening pal for him, save for when he disappears while Neville is deepest in concentration with his plants. He always entertains Neville’s miniature hat creations, sitting still and proper while Neville has a good laugh.

I could not be happier about his connection to Trevor. I haven’t brought it up to him yet, but Trevor seemed to be an important figure of worthiness to Neville. I also had to appreciate that Neville had the company of a pet in his quiet house on breaks.

I only wish I would have wised up and got on better with the toad.

Amphibians and reptiles are a bit of a sore spot. To put it gently, they are a thing of nightmares to touch or even to look at. Trevor’s skin was bumpy, coarse, and loose looking. Eyes bulging, dark, and unblinkingly horrifying.

Was his skin rough? Was he heavy? Was he slimy? Oh god, and what would his bones feels like? Could Neville feel him breathing in his hands?

My stomach swam to my throat with every thought. However, the guilt from my fear of Neville’s beloved pet made me feel much worse.

I can’t help recalling from years ago, the way I once jumped a foot away from Neville’s attempt at a lighthearted pat on my shoulder. Simply because I was hyper aware that he had held Trevor in that same hand not even five seconds before.

Neville recoiled too, shock washing off his features only while I frantically showered him in embarrassed apologies. He then promptly washed his hands for a full two minutes to make me feel better. The memory was one of those that frequently replayed in my head when I laid in bed trying my best to sleep over the wailing thoughts of regret.

In place of physical adoration for the toad, I bombarded Neville with questions about him any time they struck me. Each was gratefully met with a patient and particularly-amused response from the proud toad owner.

“Trevor is bumpy and all, he sort of feels like really extreme goose pimples— no, acne.” Neville spoke while lovingly stroking his pointer finger down Trevor’s back in the Gryffindor common room.

“He isn’t heavy at all actually. One time I had him in my hand, looked away for a moment, and when I looked back he was gone. I didn’t even realize.” He whispered to me, just as Professor Binns rambled back toward their side of the classroom.

“Trevor’s not slimy!” He said whilst playfully pointing the prongs of his accusatory fork at me, “you’re thinking of frogs! And even then, I’ve read that they only look it and don’t feel it.”

“I don’t know what his bones feel like?!” Neville laughed incredulously, “seriously, where do you come up with these questions?”

Turned out my latest inquiry was the one that lead me to my doom.

The clump of red, yellow, green, and blue students travelled up the snow-white hill, returning from a full and chilly Magical Creatures lesson. I walked alongside Neville on the trek, body automatically crawling with shivers on the thought of toads once again.

“When you’re holding him, can you feel him breathing?”

Neville let out a huff of laughter between pants for air against the hill’s incline. “I suppose so, I mostly notice his heart beat normally.”

“His heartbeat?!” My gloved hands squeezed into tight fists to resist my overreactive imagination from taking over. The ghost of a toad pumping it’s lungs and beating it’s heart in my palms was enough to make me visibly cringe— which I was determined to suppress at all costs.

Hermione, who was a bit ahead of us, slowed to join our pace, “Yes, Y/N, toads have hearts too, y’know.” She said.

“You’re joking!” I announced sarcastically.

“Why don’t you just hold Trevor once, then you’ll have all the answers you need?” Hermione laughed.

“I’ve asked her and she doesn’t want to.” Neville said.

“I do want to!” I sighed, “I just can’t.”

“Yeah, she said she can’t.” Neville reiterated.

“And why not?” If Hermione was anything, she was a problem solver. And I was suddenly determined to prove that I did, in fact, have a plan of action.

“I’m scared,” I said, “but, I figured if I could gather enough information about what exactly to expect... then, maybe I could do it eventually.”

Neville finally lifted his gaze away from the trail at our feet to smile at me. His smile was open-mouthed almost like he had words on the tip of his tongue ready to fall out. But, Hermione spoke up again.

“Honestly, it’s not as bad as you might think. I think you may even be over thinking all of this. Holding Trevor is almost like... like a leather pouch.”

I muttered, “sure, a living, breathing, beloved leather pouch.”

“You should probably try touching him first before you start carrying him around,” Hermione said right as we reached the plateau level with the archway back into castle walls.

Neville and I hung by the archway like we usually do, recapturing our breaths through the rigid air. I did not expect Hermione to stand with us, allowing Ron and Harry to be carried away with the crowd entering the hall.

Her determination loomed over the silence and I felt the need to accept that solution. After all, Hermione was bound to have another seven loaded up and ready to be dispensed. And not to mention, Neville’s eyes had an unwavering sort of gleam in them that I could not quite put a finger on.

I was suddenly and weirdly diagonal with one palm against the brick arch, the other on my hip, and the toe of my boot scuffing the snow. “I could probably do that,” I had to wonder whether I was at all convincing.

“I can help you,” Neville peered into my soul, to which I decided the gleam was, at the least, highly influential.

I gulped, “yeah, I can do it.”

— — —

There Trevor was, 15 centimeters of pure, mind-numbing terror.

I felt like I had only blinked since we were standing out in the pure white snow. Except, Hermione, Neville, and I were very much in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. Comfortable in my casual change of clothes after dinner, but also filled to the brim with dread as the reds of the room edged in my vision.

“Are you ready?” Hermione smiled as encouragingly as she could.

I finally tore my eyes away from the toad perched on the couch’s arm that Neville was half-blocking with his body.

“Yeah, of course! It’s not that serious!” I gave my best snarky smirk, as if I hadn’t just gnawed a small tear into my bottom lip.

I didn’t want to refuse Hermione the opportunity to be a part of her own solution to the problem that wasn’t hers. But, then again, I wish I did only for the sake of privacy.

Hermione’s presence was a bit heavy to endure. She conjured a very deep desire to prove myself a good friend to Neville with her eyes alone. Which meant false bravery was all I could manage to show at the moment. True feelings buried not-so-deep below that crumbling surface.

“You can do it, Y/N, don’t think.” Hermione relayed that unhelpful bit of information atleast a hundred times within the span of the last fifteen minutes. Although, I did entertain it every time.

With the sudden distraction of Neville turning to pick up his pet, I managed to squeeze a “Thank you, Hermione! I got it!” through the corner of my lips.

Unfortunately, every statement of bravery was like a mating call when among Gryffindors. I could feel sets of interested eyes triple upon our little gathering without even lifting my head. In fact, I was almost positive that Dean had made his way from across the room to lean over the couch cushions from behind.

I wasn’t ready for Neville to stand from his spot on the couch, nor was I ready for him settle down in a kneel in front of me. I could’ve forgotten Trevor entirely with the way I was focused in on Neville’s face. He hadn’t looked one bit nervous, which was a rare and reassuring sight. I had to smile at the thought that, for once, I was the one emitting enough nervous energy for the both of us.

He was pretty quiet up until that point, so his voice made my breath quicken as finality closed in around me. “I’m going to help you, alright?”

That was it, no going back. My face felt as though it was glowing redder than the room. The fluttering in my stomach clashed awfully against the dread that was already shacked up there. I clenched my jaw tight, trying desperately for a look of certainty as I nodded.

Trevor sat comfortably still between Neville’s palms, face nearly pressed into Neville’s chest. I almost wanted to joke that it looked like I was about to be proposed to with the arse of a toad, but Neville brought some humor of his own.

A mischievous grin crept over his lips first, “and you can wash your hands right after.”

I grinned despite the huff of sorrowful air that escaped me. The horrid memory filled me with a brand new sense of urgency to right my wrongs. I held him by his shoulders, “I’m really, really, really sorry about that!”

Neville almost bent forward in hearty laughter, until he realized that he shouldn’t bring Trevor any closer. “No, I know, I know! I was trying to lighten the air.” He shook his head gently, “Come on now.”

I scooted forward in my seat to plant my feet flat on the carpet, fists already balled up tight. “Yeah, come on now,” I echoed, perfectly-thoughtless, as Hermione instructed.

“I’m going to hold him right here, and he’s not going to move. All you have to do is put your fingertips on mine, okay?” Neville instructed so gently that I was ironically totally overwhelmed.

I took the look around the room that I was avoiding, and sure enough, Gryffindors were gawking from every angle. Hermione nodded and Dean was smiling extra wide.

I couldn’t find words. Instead a single shaky hand of mine unwound itself and reached forward. It very unhelpfully occurred to me at that second that I had never even touched Neville’s hands before. And you know what, it shouldn’t be strange to admit your best friend has nice hands. Because he does. Not helpful information, but definitely information.

I was almost worried that my aim was so shaky that I would miss his nails altogether and jab Trevor.

But before I knew it, I was touching the hand that was touching Trevor. Which, of course, reintroduced the smile to my face when reminded of Neville’s joke.

“Yes! Now, I’m just going to pet Trevor, and you can keep your fingers on mine until you’re ready, alright?”

I was too nervous to move my gaze from Trevor any more, but I presumed from the cheer in Neville’s voice that he was smiling hard.

He slowly moved his fingertips to the top of Trevor’s head, and I had to press harder to keep from slipping astray. Then, Neville did exactly as he explained.

My upper lip began to furl up as my imagination ran buck wild in my mind. The worst of all textures invaded my senses and made me want to cringe out of existence. My eyes squinted at the seemingly violent breathing and heart beating that bumped against his warty surface. Our fingertips stroked down his back so many times that my movements felt robotic.

It was automatic enough to break my stare away from it when Neville called my name, “are you breathing?”

I blinked a few times, and let in a gasp of air that I hadn’t even realized I needed. “Apparently, not.” I laughed, surprised by my hushed volume.

“Merlin, so much suspense for this?” a Gryffindor near the windows was met with a brief glare from Neville, but he concentrated on me.

“Why don’t you take a big breath, and then try putting your fingers in front of mine?”

I loosened up my face, as I took a deep breath in. The long breath out allowed my other hand to unwind as well. I parted my teeth, while my fingertips eased on to the very tip of his nails. “Okay,” I tried another deep, thoughtless breath.

“You can do it, Y/N.” He whispered.

I blinded myself with my unoccupied hand.

Trevor felt gravelly.

Like extreme acne.

His breathing was not nearly as noticeable as the racing heart, beating at the top of his body.

He had a spine.

Noticeable only because the several wobbly scribbles of a line that I tried to draw was not nearly as straight as the subtle ridge at the center of his back.

I eased the hand off of my eyes. Sure to embarrass myself as the sting of tears felt closer than ever. When I looked between us, the room felt a little bit bigger. Almost like we weren’t surrounded by onlookers awaiting my first true reaction.

Our knees were resting so carelessly against each others. Neville’s hand was no longer stroking Trevor with me, it was upright exactly the way someone would hold a ring box ajar. His face was flushed pink, a dopey smile on full display.

My heart floated up and out of my body, drifting high above my head like a balloon. A smile of my own lit up my entire face, while I cupped my palm on Trevor’s back like Neville did minutes before.

Dean and Hermione congratulated me on my fierce battle versus a backwards toad.

But then Trevor made an awful noise that made me jump to attention.

“Okay, Trevor’s done for... the rest of the year.” Neville hurriedly placed the toad on the table behind him.

When he turned to face me, the tiny bit of nerves that infinitely plagued his features returned while he was very caught up between continuing to kneel or standing up.

I hopped to my feet, helping Neville choose to straighten himself up as well.

“That was amazing, Y/N!”

“You’re, you’re— amazing, Nev!” I must have forgotten to resume thinking because I trapped him in a hug. His arms pressed against his sides and all.

After a burst of his nervous laughter rattled through the air, he tried to hug me in return. When only able to bend at his elbows, he hovered his hands over the edges of my back for a moment. Until finally he placed his hands even softer than the touch I just shared with Trevor.

Dean and Hermione swapped looks then, and I had to shut my eyes to pretend I didn’t notice.

[reidgraygubler]

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader)pt 2

Title: A Different Type of High (part two)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: angst

Content Warning: swearing, talks about drugs and the usage of drugs, drug use (oxycodone), drug abuse (oxycodone and dilaudid), attending narcotics anonymous, smoking (cigarettes), drug withdrawal, mentions of possible death (but no actual death), 

Word Count:  3378

Summary: reader and spencer have become best buddies after attending NA together. Reader goes to a meeting and panics when she doesn’t see Spencer there. Worried that he might have done something wrong, she calls him in a panic. 

A/N: this takes place in late-ish season two early-season three when spencer is going to the NA meetings. spencer was 26 around this time, reader is about 22 :) anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!  and here is a mood board/pintrest board i made for the series!

Previous Part  Series Masterlist  Next Part

{***}{***}{***}

I tugged my sweater tight around my body as I walked towards the community center. I stayed a fair distance away from the doors as people entered. There were way too many people entering at once for me to go in now. The way the small crowd entered the building, with a few stragglers behind, only made me a little nervous. 

It was… chilly out today. The last of the warm days were behind us now as we were heading into Winter. That would mean I’d have to find a way to and from the community center and home sooner rather than later. I wonder if Spencer would help me…

“Hey!” A woman’s voice came from beside me as I neared the doors. I looked up from the ground and looked at her. Marie, who practically became my mother after my mom died, was standing at the doorway. “You walked here?” she asked as I entered the building.

“I don’t exactly have a car, Marie, you know that,” I shrugged as I buttoned my sweater up. 

“As long as you’re here, that’s all that matters,” she smiled and wrapped an arm around my body. Part of me wanted to shrug her off me, but another part of me welcomed the embrace. “Go eat something, you’re skin and bones,” she rubbed her hands up and down my arms, as if she was warming me up.

“I do eat, okay. You don’t need-Is that Shephard’s Pie?” I cut myself off when a familiar smell hit my nose. She looked at me and smiled.

“Go eat something,” she winked before leaving me alone. I sighed and looked around the room, looking at all the people around. And just like before, people were standing around and talking to each other, or sitting down. Only a few people were eating what was made. The times when people who work for the community center make food were my favorite days. Granted, they only do it once a month, very rarely was it twice a month. The food they make is always so good.

So, with that knowledge, I walked to where they were serving the food and got myself a plate. I didn’t exactly know where to sit, mostly because I didn’t want to sit beside a bunch of strangers and eat. Actually, I didn’t want to be around anyone while I ate. That left me going to the hall where the bathrooms were to eat. 

I could tell tonight was going to be different. Something about the feeling of everyone was… Off? I’m not really sure how to explain it. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, and everyone else was with someone or talking to someone. And, I was just me, sitting in the hall to the bathrooms, poking at my Shephard’s Pie.

When I finally finished eating (I took my sweet time), I brought my plate back to the kitchen. The people around were sitting in their respective chairs, waiting for the group to start. I looked around at everyone one last time before I realized something… Spencer wasn’t here. 

Now, I know Spencer is a busy guy with whatever it was that he did for work. And, I know I’ve only known him for a few short weeks, if not a month. But I couldn’t help but allow my mind to wander and race to the scary thoughts that I shouldn’t have. Like, what if he made a mistake… What if he was sitting in the bathroom at his home, overdosing? Shit, shit… Shit. Or, what if he already did overdose and it’s too late. It’s bad that I allow myself to think those thoughts. I really shouldn’t. 

I’m not obsessed with Spencer. Okay? He’s just the only person who’s cared about me in a long time. And, he’s the only person (and thing) I’ve cared about since… Well, since I was 15. Of course, I’m worried about him.

I swallowed roughly as I looked over at Jacob, who was sitting away from the circle, reading over some papers (probably what he was going to say during today’s meeting). He’ll know where Spencer went. I mean, Jacob knows everything about everyone here. He’s gotta know where he is.

I pulled the sleeves of my sweater so my hands were pulled inside them. I looked at the ground as I walked over to Jacob. My heart was beating so hard in my chest it was actually scaring me. I shouldn’t be this scared.

I cleared my throat when I got to Jacob. He slowly lifted his head from the folder and looked at me. Glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, and his eyes were peaking from over the frame.

“Hey, happy to see you here,” he smiled as he closed the folder and placed it to the chair beside him, “What’s up? Did you eat?” he asked, looking around me to the table of food.

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” I nodded and looked back at the ground, “Uhm… Is Spencer coming tonight? He’s usually pretty punctual to meetings… And, he’s not here. I’m just… I’m scared he might have done something,” I whispered, keeping my voice low just in case other people were listening. 

“Oh, no. Spencer’s not coming tonight. He had a work trip that he had to go on. He’ll be back next week,” Jacob smiled at me. I looked back up at him, keeping my eyes on his face.

“Do you… Do you have his phone number?” I looked away from him again, worried that I’d be doing the wrong thing or invading his life. “I do believe you, Jacob. I just…” I wiped my eyes because I didn’t realize I had started crying. 

“Yeah, yeah, no I understand.” Jacob fumbled his pockets for his phone before finally pulling it out. “He might not answer. So you should wait till after tonight’s meeting to call.” he looked up at me as he wrote Spencer’s number on a slip of paper. “I’ll let him know you have his number,” he smiled as he handed over the paper. I nodded before taking the paper from him and pocketing it. 

“Thanks, Jacob… I appreciate it,” I whispered before turning to go find a seat. I kept my head low as I sat, not really wanting anyone to look at me. I could still feel tears rolling down my cheeks, and at this point, I didn’t know why I was crying. I think it was just the overwhelming emotions that I was feeling in general. My emotions are just too much for me and I guess this is where I’m left off.

Jacob was standing up in the circle this time, doing the greeting and welcoming everyone to the meeting. I always hated that part. Where he acts like no one is actually here, dying off coke, or oxy, or meth. But, what can I say? He’s just trying to make a good time out of a shitty situation. 

I was snapped back to reality when Jacob said my name, repeatedly. I looked over at him with wide eyes. 

“Do you want to go first,” he offered. I looked at him and shook my head. 

“Why do you always have me first?” I whispered, mildly annoyed that he always wants me to go first to share life over the last week. “I mean, I’m a month clean if that’s what you want to hear. I have my struggles.” I sighed and looked at him.

“Do you want to expand on those struggles?” He started. I bit my lips together before shrugging.

“Last week, uh, I had a bad week. And, I guess… I have some stuff leftover. Like, hidden away. I just really wanted to not feel anything.” I looked at my lap and shook my head. “I have a friend, though. He’s helping me with my struggles and stuff. I wish I could help him as much as he helps me though,” I sighed and looked back at Jacob. “It’s really hard, not taking whatever to get high to just not exist for a short time,” I explained. I wasn’t sure if it made sense to anyone, but it made enough sense to me. And that’s all that mattered, that I knew what I meant. 

“But you’re working through those struggles, and that’s a good thing. Having a support system is really important. So, your friend that you have is really good.” Jacob smiled and nodded. I stared at him before slowly nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. It is a good thing. I’ve never had a support system like him before. He’s right alongside me.” I whispered. I never really thought of Spencer as my support system. It’s true though, he is. Even if I wasn’t his. “Someone else should share,” I muttered. I made sure my tone was annoyed, just so Jacob would know to stop having me be the first to share.

{***}{***}{***}

After the meeting ended, I walked to the laundromat that was a block or two from my apartment. They had a payphone there that I’d be able to use, which is nice because I didn’t have a cell phone or home phone to use. I’ve done it before, using the laundromat’s payphone. 

I knew I had some change stuffed into the pockets of my sweater. I just hope no one would be in the laundromat. Well, it was late so I don’t expect people to be doing their laundry now. Unless it was someone who didn’t want to be seen during the day, like me.

A shiver shot through my body as I entered the building. I was happy to see that there was only one person here, and it looked like they were almost done doing their load. I glanced at them as I walked to the 3 pay-phones. I sat right at the second one, my hands jingling the change in my pockets. I pulled out four quarters and the paper with Spencer’s number. My eyes scanned the numbers that had Jacob’s sloppy handwriting on it. 

I picked the phone up off the hook before dialing the number. I stared at the numbers on the pad as I held the phone to my head. 

“This is Spencer R-” I slammed the phone back on the hook before he could say anymore. I stared at the phone with wide eyes. My hands were shaky and I could feel my head starting to get a little dizzy. It was just the nerves, anxiety, and everything of the day hitting me all at once. I stared at the phone. I pulled all the change from my pockets and placed it on the counter. 4 quarters, which means two more calls. I swallowed roughly before dialing his number again.

“This is…” “Hi Spencer, it’s me,” I bit my lips together and closed my eyes. I pressed my free hand to my face and shook my head. “I, uh… Sorry if this was inappropriate or anything. I just… I asked Jacob for your number… And, I missed you today, sorry if that’s weird,” I blabbed, my words trailing off. 

“Hey! No, no it’s okay!” Spencer spoke. His tone was happy, like whatever it was that he was doing made him happy. “Sorry I didn’t come tonight. I had work stuff happening.” He explained. So, I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. 

“Yeah, that’s what Jacob had said.” I retorted and shrugged.

“But you didn’t believe him, did you?” Spencer asked, a certain amusement in his tone. I held back my laughter and nodded.

“Well, I told him I believed him. But I didn’t really believe him,” I rested my face in my hand and leaned against the counter. “A work trip?” I asked, changing the subject back to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice got low, like he tried to not be heard by whoever he was with, “Probably won’t be home till the end of next week, though,” he sounded sad. 

“So, you won’t be home for the next meeting?” I frowned and tried to make it so he could hear my frown. Assuming he did because he started laughing. “God, I fucking hate Jacob, I swear,” I sighed and shook my head. 

“You know, at first I didn’t understand why you hated him… But I’m starting to understand why,” he laughed. I smiled and looked around the laundromat. The previous person was gone, leaving me alone. I was happy about that. I didn’t want people listening in on my conversation. Man, it’d be awkward if he worked for the FBI or something where someone is always listening.

“He always makes me go first to share, it’s getting annoying,” I scoffed and shook my head. “Like, is it because I’m the youngest one there? Because I’ve been attending for so long?” I shook my head again because of my annoyance.

“Maybe you’ll have to ask him. Could be because you’re young,” Spencer answered. On his side of the call, I could hear papers shuffling. 

“God, that’s annoying,” I scoffed, “How was your week?” I smiled, asking the question that is usually first answered in group. Spencer cackled, not just a laugh but a cackle. 

“It was good. Uh, work whisked me away and I wasn’t expecting it. But, here we are.” Spencer sighed. The image I had of him in my head right now was nice. He was just sitting at a desk, coffee in front of him while he read whatever papers he needed. Wait… “What about you? What phone number is this?”

“Oh… Uh, I’m at the laundromat down the street from my apartment… I don’t have a phone,” I bit my lips together and sighed, “Uhm, but my week was meh. I mean, like… Last week was pretty rough… Not gonna lie,” I rubbed my face and shook my head, “Uh, yeah, it was just. I don’t even know why it was a rough week.” 

“You didn-”

“No, no, I wanted to though,” I slouched in the chair and shook my head. “It was really hard not going to my stash… And just taking whatever I had.” I shrugged.

“One minute remaining,” an automated female voice spoke. I widened my eyes and fumbled for quarters.

“Shit,” I muttered, nearly dropping them back to the counter. I also nearly dropped the phone too.

“Is… Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, legitimate worry in his words. I sighed once I finally inserted the quarters into the machine.

“Yeah, yeah. Yep, uh… I don’t use payphones, let alone actual phones, often. And I never have quarters on me for these things,” I shook my head in annoyance. “Sorry if I scared you,” I cringed. 

“It’s okay.” He replied. I sighed and shook my head. “Now that you have my number, you won’t hesitate to call me, will you?” the worry was back in his voice as he spoke. It kinda scared me how much he worried about me. I’ve never had someone worry about me like this before.  What if I disappointed him? Or he disappointed me? I’m used to being a disappointment and getting disappointed. So, what’s it going to do if I get disappointed one more time?

“It’ll depend on the time of day and where I am… If I’m able to get to the laundromat, then sure. But if I’m not near a payphone or if I don’t have quarters, I probably won’t,” I answered. 

“Time of day doesn’t matter. I never sleep anyway. And I assume you never sleep either,” he pointed out the obvious. I laughed and nodded.

“Okay, time of day is no worry. Then, it’ll depend on if I have quarters for the machine,” I pointed out.

“I’ll figure something out for you then,” Spencer stated. I smiled again and nodded. “What time is it?”

“Almost 10… I had to walk to the community center, and then back here.” I sighed.

“You should go to bed,” Spencer spoke firmly. I rolled my eyes and smiled. 

“You’re not my real dad,” I feigned a playful disappointment in my tone. That made Spencer laugh. “I thought you died… When you weren’t at group… My mind kinda wandered and I had thoughts that weren’t the greatest,” I wrinkled my nose. My stomach sank and my body hurt slightly at the thoughts and memories of all the previous thoughts I had of earlier today. 

“Hey, hey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, like he knew I was visibly upset. The kindness he had in his voice made me feel better. “If I have you in my life, I can guarantee that I won’t die,” he had a small chuckle in his tone. I smiled.

“Accountability buddies?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. The smile that was growing on my lips was probably too happy for us to be talking about death and drugs. It was Spencer’s turn to be laughing.

“Okay, okay, accountability buddies,” he agreed, his tone being as happy as my smile was. 

“You know that stupid step? The one about a greater power or whatever?” I asked, tapping my fingers across the counter. Spencer laughed.

“You mean Step Two ‘We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.’ or Steps Five through Seven?” He asked, his tone somewhat cheery. I laughed and shook my head. 

“Honestly, all of them,” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.

“What about them?” 

“What if I don’t believe in a higher power or God?” I asked. I lifted my hand and looked at my fingers around the phone cord. And with that question, Spencer hummed. I wished he got to answer the question.

“One minute remaining,” the automated voice was back, causing me to frown because I knew our time on the phone would be over soon. I really didn’t want it to be. Spencer was someone I could trust, and he knew that. He was even a better distraction to stop me from doing anything stupid.

“Get some sleep?” Spencer asked, his tone only slightly begging. I smiled and nodded. “Okay, if you nodded, I can’t see you.”

“I’ll get some sleep. I promise,” I sighed, even though I knew it was a lie. I mean, I know Spencer isn’t going to sleep either.

“How many quarters do you have?”

“On me, 4. I’m sure I have more in my apartment,” I sat up in the chair and nodded, “I’ll call you if I need you, Spencer. Thank you for letting me call you,” I wrinkled my nose. 

“Of course. I’d rather have you call me instea-”

“You’ll be home next week?” I asked, cutting him off. He didn’t really need to say anything further, I knew exactly what he was going to say.

“That’s the plan. Could be sooner.” He answered, sounding upset with his own answer. “I’ll take you to get coffee when I get back?” he offered, like that’d make me happy. Okay, yeah it worked. It did make me happy. 

“Coffee?” I asked, raising an eyebrow because I wasn’t sure if he actually offered to get me coffee. “Y-yeah, coffee. That sounds good,” I nodded. I’ve never gotten coffee before.

“I’ll see you then. Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, Spencer,” I smiled before placing the phone back on the receiver. I sat back in the seat and looked at the machine. My eyes then shifted down to the quarters on the countertop. I really wanted to keep talking to him, mostly because I liked talking to him. And, if he was so willing to talk to me, I’ll do it anytime.

I stared at the payphone for a moment before finally standing up. I slipped the last of my quarters and paper back into my pockets before leaving. By the time I finally got back outside, it was cold, colder than before I called Spencer. I suppose that’s what I get for wanting to make a call late at night. 

When I got to my apartment, I couldn’t feel my fingers or my toes. I didn’t want to take a shower, because I really didn’t want to get cold again after the shower. So, I just slumped my way to my bedroom, not like that’ll make me any warmer.

series taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm​, @itsametaphorbriansblog​ , @bxtchboy69​ 

if you want to be apart of the series tag list, just let me know :)

[feedmecookiesnow]

Can I Stay With You?

For @hopelessly-me who asked for a Winterhawk “Can I stay with you” from the prompt list:

Not NSFW, but we’ll say 18+ just to be safe.

***

At three am, there’s an unholy sound of someone pounding on his front door. Bucky stumbles out of bed, remembering at the last second to put pants on, and wrenches it open with a very irritated, “What?”

Clint is standing there, looking just as exhausted and annoyed as he is. “Hi,” he says. “Can I stay with you?”

Bucky rubs his eyes and tries to force his brain online. “What?”

“Can I stay with you?”

He stares at Clint for a moment, then opens the door a little more and gestures to the couch behind him. Then he turns and goes back to his own room. Behind him, he hears Clint close the door with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Bucky makes a sound that could maybe be described as “whatever” and is asleep again before his head hits the pillow.

It’s seven am the next time his eyes open,  He sits up fast, still covered in cold sweat from his last nightmare. Nothing unusual there.

What is unusual is the smell of pancakes drifting through the apartment. Burnt slightly, but still kind of appealing. Bucky rubs the grit from his eyes and gets up, tired and sore from sleeping wrong, and goes to investigate.

Clint is standing in his kitchen, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers with little purple things on them. Eggplants, maybe? His back is to Bucky, and he’s humming something quietly.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Clint jumps a little, dropping one of the pancakes onto the floor. “Hi. Good morning. You let me in last night, remember?”

“Yes.” Bucky rubs his forehead. “No. Kind of.”

“There was a gas leak in my building,” Clint says. “The fire department dragged me out of bed and made me leave.”

Bucky sits at his little kitchen table and looks at the two plates set out. “Why?”

“Why did they make me leave?” Clint raises an eyebrow. “It’s a gas leak, Barnes. The building could have exploded.”

“Why are you here?” It’s not that he doesn’t like Clint, but it’s weird that he’s here. At the very least, he would’ve thought Clint would try Natasha or someone first.

“Oh.” He grabs one of the plates and starts putting pancakes on it. “Because you live closest to me, it was three in the morning, and I was standing outside in my underwear?”

Well. That’s probably fair.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Clint says. “I wouldn’t have if I could’ve avoided it.”

Bucky waves a hand. “Whatever.” He takes the plate from Clint and looks at it. “Pancakes?”

“Consider it an apology breakfast.” Clint pours him a mug of coffee. “We can eat, wake up a little bit, and then I’ll go back to my place and see if I can get in. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The pancakes are good, if not slightly burnt, and the coffee is perfect. It’s nice, actually, to sit and eat breakfast. He usually skips it---either too keyed up from his nightmares, or too busy to have real food. “These are good.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky drains the coffee and gets up for another mug. “So...gas leak?”

Clint shrugs. “Apparently. I don’t know much. All I know is that I was sleeping, and next thing I know, there was some super hot fireman standing over my bed, shaking me awake and telling me to come with him. I thought it was a dream until I got outside and saw everyone else.”

Bucky laughs. “What about your roommate?”

“Kate’s with her dad in California. She’s got Lucky too, so it was just me in there.” He looks at his legs with dismay. “They didn’t even let me get real pants. I had to walk twelve blocks like this.”

“You can borrow some of my stuff,” Bucky says before even realizing he’s made the offer. “I won’t make you walk back wearing just eggplants.”

Clint smiles slightly and nods. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

They finish breakfast. Clint insists on doing the dishes too, so Bucky goes back to his room and tries to find some clothes that’ll fit him. He finally settles on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. “Here,” he says, handing them to Clint. “I think these’ll fit you? Might be a little short.”

“Curse of being tall,” Clint says with a grin. “Thanks, Barnes. Seriously.” He pulls the jeans on right there, almost tipping himself over while he hops around on one foot.

Bucky rolls his eyes and steadies him. “Are you capable of doing anything without injuring yourself?”

“Yes,” Clint says, sounding mildly offended. He buttons the jeans, then reaches up and pulls off his shirt, revealing a very muscular torso half-plastered with bandages and medical tape. He looks at himself for a moment, then adds, “This means nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky says, oddly disappointed when Clint puts the new shirt on. He takes the other one and tosses it in his laundry basket. “I’ll wash that and give it back.”

“You’re awesome,” Clint says. “Insults to my capabilities aside.”

Bucky grins. “Come on. Let’s go see if you can get into your place.”

They can’t. They can’t even get close to it. A main gas line has blown, apparently, and they’re not letting anyone in. The whole block is cordoned off. After an hour of fruitless negotiating, pleading, and begging, the best answer they get is “It’ll be about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Clint throws his arms out. “But I don’t have any stuff! What am I supposed to do for two weeks, be homeless?”

“Sorry, sir,” the fire chief says. “Can’t help you.”

He walks away. Clint stares after him. “Great,” he finally says, and tilts his head up to the sky. “What did I do to deserve this, huh?”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, not sure what to follow it with.

Clint waves a hand and rubs his forehead. “It’s fine. I’ll figure out something.”

“You can stay with me again,” Bucky offers. “It’s only two weeks. We can buy you some clothes, and I’ve got an extra toothbrush.”

“No, I don’t want to be in the way---”

“It’s not,” Bucky says quickly, for some reason desperate for him to say yes. “It’s fine. It would be nice to have a roommate. For a bit.”

Clint studies him. “You sure?”

“Definitely.” Bucky nudges him with an elbow. “I expect breakfast every morning, though.”

Clint laughs. “Okay. I can do that.”

So that’s how Bucky ends up with a temporary roommate. It��s weird at first, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself. He hasn’t lived with anyone since joining the Avengers, not even a guest, and it takes him awhile to get used to sharing a space---particularly the bathroom. But other than a couple of arguments, they manage to make it work, settling into a comfortable rhythm.

Three weeks into this new arrangement, Bucky comes back from the grocery store to find Clint packing his clothes into a duffle bag. He’s wearing Bucky’s jeans again, and Bucky can’t help but notice how tight they are, riding low across his hips. “What’s going on?”

“I’m good to move back,” Clint says, grinning at him. “Building is safe for habitation again.” He hefts the bag. “I’m just using this for transport. I’ll bring it back.”

“You can keep it, I don’t care.” He tears his eyes off the jeans and looks up. “Well. Congrats on getting your apartment back.”

“Thank you,” Clint says, apparently oblivious to the disappointment in Bucky’s voice. Bucky swallows it down and helps him pack the rest of his things. When they’re done, Clint shoulders the bag and looks at him. “Well. This has been fun.”

“It has,” Bucky agrees. “Do you need help moving in?”

“Nah, I’ve interfered in your life enough.” Clint taps his fingers on his thigh for a moment, then says, “Seriously, though. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says, trying to imbue the words with all the subtext he can. “I liked having you here.”

Clint looks like he wants to say something, but after a moment, he shakes his head. “I’ll see you at work?”

“Sure.”

He leaves, then. Bucky doesn’t close the door until he disappears around the corner. Then he turns to look at his apartment. It seems smaller, somehow, which definitely doesn’t make sense. It should feel bigger now that there’s not two grown men taking up space.

Maybe smaller is the wrong word. It’s not smaller. It’s empty. There’s a distinct sense of something missing. Like losing a tooth, Bucky thinks, and all he can do is probe at the blank space where there used to be something better.

“Get over it,” he says to himself, and starts picking up blankets from the couch. “It didn’t mean anything. You were just being a good friend. That’s all you want from him. You’re just friends.”

He keeps telling himself this. He repeats it all day.

He doesn’t believe a word of it.

A week later, he’s watching TV. He misses Clint’s running commentary, which usually ended with both of them laughing their assess off. It’s just not the same on his own.

His phone rings, and he answers without looking. “Barnes.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Bucky sits up straight and mutes the TV. “Clint? What’s up?”

“Kate’s back,” he says, “and she’s having a sleepover.” There’s a distinct shrieking of laughter in the background, and Bucky can almost hear Clint’s wince. “They’re loud and they’re very girly. Which is fine, but also they’re so loud. Did I mention they’re loud? We’re talking undiscovered decibels here.”

“I think you mentioned it, yeah.”

“Anyway. Can I stay with you?”

Bucky blinks. “What?”

“Just for tonight,” Clint rushes to add. “Not three weeks again. I just need a break. They’re loud. Have I said that yet?”

Can’t you just take your hearing aids out? is the first thing that comes to Bucky’s mind, and he almost says it.

Then he looks around at his empty apartment, and the newscaster on television, and instead says, “Bring something to drink.”

“Awesome,” Clint says. “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up. Bucky stares at his phone for a moment, then looks around his apartment. It’s---well, it’s not a mess, but it’s not pretty. Not fit for company. He quickly gets up and does some frantic cleaning. He’s not sure why---Clint’s worse than he is, he makes Bucky look military neat---but he does it anyway.

He’s working on the dishes when the door opens. “Hey,” Clint calls. “Door’s unlocked, I’m coming in.”

“Hey,” Bucky calls back. He puts the last plate on the rack and dries his hands. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Clint says, flashing a smile, and Bucky’s chest gets a little tighter at the sight. “I brought beer.” He raises a six-pack.

“Works for me.” Bucky sticks it in the fridge. “So how’s Kate?”

Clint winces. “I love her, but man, when she gets together with her girlfriends...” He shudders and drops his bag by the couch. “I don’t think they communicate with words. I think it’s just high pitched squealing noises. Seriously.” He shakes his head.

Bucky pulls two beers out and drops on the couch next to him. “Well, you’re welcome over here anytime.”

“It’s very appreciated.”

They drink beer and watch TV. It’s like how it was before, stepping back into their routine with barely a beat missed, and Bucky can’t stop himself from smiling.

Clint notices. “What’re you so happy about?”

“I like having you here,” Bucky says honestly. “It’s nice.”

Clint blinks, and then a smile spreads across his face. “Yeah?”

“I liked living with you too.” He’s already started, he might as well keep going. “I didn’t realize until you left, but it was really nice to have someone around.”

“It’s nice,” Clint agrees. “Roommates can be awesome.”

They’re quiet for a while after that. Bucky tries to think of something to say, but he can’t focus. Clint is wearing his jeans again, and they’re still too tight, and they’re still obscenely low across his hips, and the casual way he’s sitting---

“Eyes up, soldier,” Clint says, watching him, and Bucky blushes hard. Clint grins at him and sips his beer.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, face still burning. “I’m---that was rude, I shouldn’t do that.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Clint winks. “I don’t mind. I know these look good on me.”

“They’d look better on my bedroom floor,” Bucky says without thinking, and then nearly drops his beer from shock as the statement hits him a second later. “I mean---that’s not---”

Clint is suddenly very still, eyes fixed on the beer in his hand. After a moment, Bucky stops stammering out excuses, and resigns himself to dying of embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mutters again, and wishes he could just disappear into the couch.

“You mean that?” Clint asks after a moment, He turns and sets his beer down, then looks at Bucky. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugs, trying for casual and definitely not making it. “Just a thought.”

“Just a thought,” Clint echoes. “Okay. And if I wanted it to be more than a thought?”

Bucky stares at him, barely daring to hope. “Wait. You do?”

“Uh, yeah.” He sounds a little breathless, a little excited. “Have you seen yourself? Of course I want that, you’re---”

He cuts off with a surprised noise, as Bucky leans forward and kisses him. Then he loses his balance and falls backwards, whacking his head on the arm of the couch with a soft, “Ow.”

Bucky chuckles. “Can’t do anything without hurting yourself, can you?”

“Your fault,” Clint pants, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down. “You knocked me over.”

“My bad.”

They kiss again, intense and hungry and heated. Part of Bucky feels like he should take it slow, make it a little softer. But then Clint’s leg hitches over him, pulling him closer, and all coherent thought flies out the window.

They break apart with a gasp, both panting. “Think we knocked your beer over,” Clint says.

“It’s empty,” Bucky says, kissing him again.

“Good.” Clint’s hand slips under his shirt. “Off.”

Bucky tugs his shirt off and tosses it somewhere. Clint puts a hand on his chest, skimming over his torso with an appreciative touch. “Your abs are unfair,” he says, poking them. “Seriously. Like, Greek god levels of unfair.”

“You’ve got abs.”

“Not like this.”

“Do more sit-ups, then.”

“I do sit-ups!”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“You---” Clint scowls up at him, and it’s honestly kind of adorable. “I don’t need your judgement. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, leaning back down. It’s a little slower this time, a little less frantic. Bucky hasn’t done this in a long time, but he’s missed it. He’d forgotten how nice it can be to get wrapped up in this, how easy it is to get lost in the taste of someone else---

They tip sideways and fall, Bucky twisting at the last second so he takes the impact instead of Clint. “Shit,” Clint says, flushing red. “Sorry, that was my fault.”

Bucky laughs. “It’s fine,” he says. “But why don’t we take this to my room before you really hurt yourself?”

“Works for me,” Clint says, standing up. He offers Bucky a hand, and pulls him to his feet. “I have been known to fall off beds, though. Fair warning.”

“That’s okay,” Bucky says. “I’m sure I can figure out a way to keep you in one place.” He winks. “For safety reasons, you know.”

“Looking forward to seeing your methods,” Clint says with a grin, and lets Bucky tug him down the hallway to the bedroom.

***

Charity Hawktion Self-Promo! If you like the things I write and would like me to write something specifically for you, you can bid on me here!  Winner will get a 5-10k word story of their choosing (possibly longer because I am a verbose motherfucker). If you can participate, I encourage you to do so, and if not, that’s okay too! Thank you for reading!

[annaraebananawriter]

(Part One) Cold Truths

Yellow again everyone! I am back yet again with another oneshot. In fact, this oneshot will have around three to four parts. I think. That’s the plan anyways, but it might change. Who knows.

And I want to say this now, this is meant to be seen as platonic, however you can think of it as a ship, if you want. This is also my first time wring FGOD Error. If you don’t know who that is, then I suggest checking it out! 

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically Dreamtale and Errortale

Characters: Dream and Nightmare (Who both belong to Joku), Error (Who belongs to CQ)

Pairings: None really, but you can read it as such

Warnings: Implied/Referenced panic attack/flashback, and I think that’s it? Let me know!

Word Count: 2649

~oOo~

Someone was crying.

Error blinked, closing the portal behind him.

He stood there for a moment, mildly surprised by this. He says mildly because he always figured someone would find out about his reoccurring visits to Outertale without it being destroyed. It was only a matter of time.

Hopefully, it wasn’t any of the ‘light’/’Good’ Sanses. He doesn’t think he could handle another run-in with them so soon after a battle. Especially if that battle had ended up…well, let’s just say no one got out of it without injury. Even him, and he had all these glitched stats that made it impossible for him to die. Though, he could still feel pain.

He was getting sidetracked.

Where was he…ah, yes! So, hopefully, the crying wasn’t a trick from his enemies. He doubts it was, but he could never be too careful.

Although, there was a possibility that it was Blue, who was his dear friend. He smiled despite himself. Blue had been his friend for a few years now, ever since he kidnapped the Sans and told him about the balance. From then on, the other saw through the creator’s lies and basically acted as a spy for Error and the ‘Bad’ Sanses.

The smile widened slightly at the thought of Nightmare and the others. He could still remember the first time they met…

~oOo~

He stumbled blindly through whatever AU he had ended up in.

Error signs had overtaken his vision, leaving him defenseless. He was glitching quite frantically, too. Pieces of him breaking off and slamming back into place, only to unsettle another piece opposite of it, repeating the process over and over.

It hurt. It hurt so much. But he was used to it. This happened to him all of the time, so how could he not be? Even if the pain was amplified by the injuries leftover from his latest fight with Ink. The creator did know how to throw some mean attacks, he’ll give him that.

“Stupid squid…” Error grumbled to himself, voice glitching so much that he could barely make out his own words, tripping and just managing to catch himself with a tree, which he leaned on after. He growled, frustrated with himself. “Stupid soulless bastard…” He closed his eyes, not that it made a difference, and leaned his head against the bark of the tree, breathing for a moment.

“My, my…you don’t look good at all…”

However, when a smooth voice spoke from right in front of him, his eyes snapped open. He flinched and squinted from the sudden light. His eyes had cleared up.

Well…at least he could see again.

Once his eyes were somewhat adjusted, he glared at the person in front of him. He then blinked, half in shock and half in curiosity. The person in front of him was covered in a sort of…black…goo…thing. He didn’t know what it was. Despite the sludge on him, the other was surprisingly calm, gazing at him with a piercing cyan eye (the other was covered with the sludge) that almost seemed to both glow and look deep into his soul. There was also a hint of…concern in his gaze.

Error couldn’t place a reason about why. He was the Destroyer. No one was supposed to care about him, as much as he wanted that to happen. He was just a filthy glitch. He was—

None of that mattered right now. Well, it did, but it wasn’t the most important thing. That was knowing who this newcomer was and why he radiated a powerful aura, which he only now realized. He straightened so he wasn’t leaning on the tree anymore.

“Who are you?” He croaked out, voice back to the normal amount of glitches.

The other blinked, tipping his head forward. Error got the feeling that he was surveying him, sizing him up. He tensed, prepared to fight if need be. The other seemed to notice this and frowned further. A cold feeling, like if someone dumped ice down his shirt, overcame him and he froze. The other was CHECKing him.

He watched warily as the other’s eye grew in surprise. Then, Error grew surprised when the others surprised faded to…concern and…anger? At Error? No, for Error. Interesting. No one reacted like that before. Then again, no one even checked him before so…

He could never be sure of anything. This was all new.

The other seemed to come to a decision and walked a few steps toward Error before stopping when Error tensed, his hand coming to rest by his cheek, ready to draw his strings to fight. “I’m Nightmare,” the other spoke, finally revealing who he was.

Error narrowed his eyes.

Nightmare noticed and held his hands up in a surrendering position. “Relax. I’m not here to fight you. In fact,” he smiled, “I want to help you.”

~oOo~

Error had been rightfully surprised. No one wanted to help him. No one was supposed to.

After some explaining on both ends, and getting to know each other a little, Nightmare asked Error to come with him. To come to his home and stay there. Hesitantly, Error had agreed. It was the best decision he ever made. He got to know Horror, Killer, Dust and Cross, who had become good friends of him.

Now, they all saw each other as a family. A family who protected each other.

No matter what.

Coming back to himself, Error shook his head. None of this was important now.

Now, he had to focus on finding who was crying.

Yes, it could still be a trap. Yes, he could get hurt, even if it wasn’t. But he couldn’t ignore it. Just because he destroyed things, does not mean he didn’t have morals. He had feelings. And besides…the crying reminded him too much of himself.

He shook his head again, scolding himself. Focus, Error, he thought to himself, Focus.

He followed the crying to near the edge of the rock they were on. Any further, and you would fall from existence. You would fall into the Void. This was, in his opinion, the best place to view the stars. It was so clear and pretty. It was so peaceful, too. He loved coming here and relaxing, making some more of his dolls.

But that’s not what he was here for.

The crying was coming from behind a boulder a few steps away. Whoever it was, it seemed they were quite sad, or whatever emotion they were feeling, they were surely feeling it strongly. Error watched the boulder for a few seconds before walking around it, to the source of the crying.

He blinked in surprise.

Dream was there.

The positive guardian was curled up into a ball, hands held over his ears with his head bowed low. His chest was heaving rapidly, almost like he was just on the edge of hyperventilating, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He sobbed, tears running down his face as fast as his chest moved. It was like…it was almost like he was trying to block out someone who was saying something mean.

Suddenly, Error felt a great deal of sympathy for the guardian. He knew how it felt, trying to block something out that only you could hear. He himself did it all the time. Usually, no one helped him.

He won’t let Dream suffer the same. Even if the other was his enemy. Even if he had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the first time this happened.

He knelt down next to the other. Hesitating slightly (he briefly wondered where Nightmare was. He should have felt all this negativity.), he reached out and placed a hand on Dream’s shoulder. He flinched at the contact, glitches wreaking havoc on his arm in his dislike. But he pushed through it, ignored it.

“Dream?” Error said, watching as Dream didn’t react to his hand. He frowned. He was worried now. “Dream? Can you hear me?”

All he got was a sob in return.

He sighed, settling down. He knew he would be here for a while, but that was fine. He didn’t really have anything he was going to do anyway.

~oOo~

Error wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, rubbing Dream’s arm in hopes that that was enough, before the other finally broke out of his…trance? Flashback?

Whatever it was, he perked up once he felt the other shift. He retreated his hand just in case, but stayed where he was sitting. He wanted to make sure the other would be alright before he left. So, he had to wait for Dream to get his bearing and notice him.

(He might be attacked, but he was willing to risk it.)

Anxious, but hiding that with a calm attitude, he watched as Dream took a few shaky breaths. The guardian blinked a couple of times, his eyes focusing more on his surroundings. Then, he stiffened. He didn’t look in Error’s direction, not yet, but the destroyer could tell that he knew he was there.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Error figured that Dream was expecting to be ridiculed or attacked, much like he did. But he wasn’t going to do that, so he just shifted into a more comfortable position and looked at the stars. They were as beautiful as ever.

He waited.

After a few more minutes—probably even longer but he had no way to track the time, so oh well—Dream shifted as well. Error suddenly felt like he was being stared at, being judged. He forced himself to ignore it, however.

“…what are you doing?” Dream finally said. His voice was a bit rough and small.

“Watching the stars.” Error replied. It wasn’t the answer Dream was looking for, he knew that, but it was the truth.

“What are doing here? Now?” Was that annoyance Error heard?

He turned to look Dream in the eye. The guardian flinched slightly, wound up like a cat ready to run, and Error felt the slightest bit of guilt. “I told you. Watching the stars.” He continued before Dream could get even more annoyed. “And making sure you’re okay.”

Dream blinked. It seems he had expected something far worse.

Error laughed inwardly, finding a bit of amusement in the guardian’s reaction. He decided to explain anyway. “I came out here to relax, originally. Then, I heard someone crying, which worried me.”

“Worried you?” Dream sounded like he couldn’t believe what he had been told.

Error felt a bit annoyed. He rolled his eyes. “Yes, worried.” He shook his head. “Is that really so hard to believe? I followed the sound to you.” He gave Dream a searching look. “It looked like, to me, that you were having a flashback, or panic attack.”

Dream looked away and Error, somehow, knew that he was right.

A flashback or panic attack.

Hm…

Those weren’t two words that he thought of when he heard the title ‘guardian of positivity’.

Error sighed and continued, looking at Dream even if he wasn’t being looked at in return. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Dream was silent. He didn’t look back at Error, who only sighed again, diverting his attention back to the stars as he waited again.

“…why?”

Error blinked and looked back to Dream. The guardian hadn’t moved his gaze from the rock in front of him. “Why what?”

Dream huffed. “Just…” He waved his arms around, gesturing to nothing in particular. “Why?”

Error tilted his head. He was confused. Did he mean why he stayed to see if he was okay? “I wanted to make sure you were okay because I was worried. I—”

“No!” Dream interrupted him, snapping his gaze over to meet Error’s confused one. “I mean, well, yes, thank you, but…” He sighed in frustration. “I didn’t mean that. I meant…why do you destroy?”

Error blinked. Once. Twice. His confusion intensified. What did that have to do with the current events? Why he was here with Dream in the first place? He raised a brow at Dream. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Dream sighed and gained a pleading tone in his voice. “Just tell me, please.”

Error gave him a last searching look. He didn’t find what he was looking for. He didn’t even know what he was looking for in the first place. “I destroy because of the balance. If I don’t destroy, the AU’s will start to crash into each other, which will cause the Multiverse to collapse.”

Dream nodded slowly. “The balance…” He repeated. There wasn’t any confusion or disbelief in his voice, which cause Error to become confused.

“Yes.” Error was very confused and beginning to get a bit mad. “Did you know this already?” If he did, then why didn’t he speak up? Why didn’t he see the suffering and put an end to it? Was he just that selfish?

Error shook his head. No, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that. There must be a reason for this. A good reason, not a bad one.

“The balance…” Dream mumbled. He didn’t seem to have heard Error at all. As he continued, he seemed to be in pain, like something was stopping him from knowing this stuff. “There are…f-four…main balances…in the multiverse.”

“Yes.” Error confirmed, leaning forward. “Did you know this already, Dream?”

“I-hng!” Dream doubled over, suddenly grasping at his left forearm, like it was causing him pain.

Error’s eyes widen and he sat up a little, now on his knees. He shifted towards Dream, hovering over the guardian, but not touching him. “Dream! Are you okay?”

Dream breathed hard for a few minutes. He then let go of his arm slowly, though his hand was shaking quite bad. He shook his head and leaned back up, which made Error move away a tad. Dream’s gaze met Error’s and Error frowned in concern. Dream’s eyes were clouded with pain and confusion.

Dream swallowed and cleared his throat. “I-I knew that.”

Error blinked. “Knew what?”

“About…about the balances.” Dream frowned at himself, like he couldn’t believe himself. “I knew that. But I also didn’t.”

Now Error was confused. “What?”

“I know I knew about the balances, but I don’t…I don’t remember knowing about them. But I…” Dream frowned even further and screwed his eyes shut. “I swear I knew about them. Why did I forget?”

Error also frowned, thinking over what was just said to him. “I don’t know.”

They sat there for a minute, trying to find an answer.

They didn’t have enough pieces, though, so it was hard.

Eventually, Dream groaned in frustration and stood up, prompting Error to do the same. Dream met Error’s eyes and smiled weakly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put this on you.”

Error frowned. “It’s no problem. I’m happy to help, if you’ll let me.”

Dream laughed. “Of course, sure. I think I’ll need it.” He took a deep breath, turned and opened a portal. He stared at the golden circle before turning back to Error. “What are doing today?”

Error blinked and tilted his head. “Blues made us some tacos, so probably just eating those and chatting with Nightmare. Why?”

Dream nodded his head. Something had flashed across his face at the mention of his brother, but it was gone too fast for Error to pin down. “Okay. I just wanted to know.” He smiled at Error. “Hope you have fun.”

Something warm entered Error’s chest and he smiled back. “I will. Thanks.”

Dream laughed again and waved him off before disappearing through his portal. Error watched the empty space before him for a few seconds before sighing, looking to the stars one last time before entering a portal of his own. It was time for tacos.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his chest that told him something bad was going to happen.

[lunatens]

sunrise

word count: 1380

genre: magic au, fluff

pairing: gender neutral forest nymph!reader x water nymph!chan

summary: you always watch the sunrise with your bff chan but today you accidentally slept in

song rec: sunrise - got7 (jb) (haha wow i really tried hard with this one huh but the lyrics and everything work perfectly so!!)

a/n: okay i finallY wrote this after a billion years and i’ve decided i’m in love with chan anyways hope y’all enjoy!!

~

“wake up, sleepyhead,” chan’s voice fills your ear, and you pry open an eye to see his face hovering in front of yours. you jump in shock, suddenly wide awake, and chan sits up with a laugh. you shoot him a glare and rub the sleep from your eyes, then brush the morning dew from your shoulders. the early sun is just peeking over the horizon, golden rays of light streaming through the forest, and the sky is wearing faded pinks and blues and oranges, the subtle colours all melting into each other in the way that you love.

“i wanted to sleep more,” you grumble, but you aren’t really upset. you sit up from your little den in the bushes, and chan sticks out an arm to help you up.

“well, good morning to you too,” he says sarcastically. he grunts a little with the effort of pulling you up before continuing.

“we’re late to watch the sunrise; i’m surprised the birds didn’t wake you,” chan says, nudging you as the two of you walk barefoot over the soft layer of dirt and pine needles covering the forest floor.

“they’re my friends, they let me sleep in. sometimes.” you say with a smile. now that you’re awake, the birds of the forest have begun singing their melodies, choruses of chirps and tweets bringing life to the forest as they greet you good morning. you pause when you spy the tiny bright green tip of a plant trying to poke its way up from the soil, larger, leafier plants blocking it from the sunlight it’s desperately trying to reach. you crouch down and help it grow, feeling satisfied as you watch the plant wind it’s way up from the ground. it’s new leaves unfurl to catch the rays of sun, and you feel the plant’s relief. you reach back to lightly tap at chan’s leg, asking for his help. he gets the message and you smile when you see the dirt around the bottom of the plant grow dark with dampness.

“it says thanks for the drink,” you say as you stand back up, brushing off the dirt from your palms.

“i don’t know how you do it,” chan says, smiling and shaking his head at you as you continue walking towards the river.

“well i mean it’s not that hard, chan, growing little plants like that is nothing! you should see what it takes to—“

“no, not growing the plant; you take such good care of the forest, y/n. how you even noticed that little plant beneath all the undergrowth is beyond me. without you, this forest wouldn’t even be half as beautiful as it is right now,” he says, almost mumbling that last part. you blush at his words, suddenly taking interest in a toad sitting in a small patch of sunlight. “ooh, bet you think he’s the most beautiful thing in this forest; i saw you eyeing him when y’all were swimming yesterday, i KNOW you were staring at his abs,” its croaky voice mocks you, and you scowl at it (probably because it’s right), prompting chan to laugh at your suddenly sour face.

“what’s that face for!!” he asks, squishing your cheeks. you swat his hands away.

“nothing important, the toad just made a stupid comment.”

“what did it say??”

“it’s a secret,” you say, sticking your tongue out at him. he pouts at you in return.

“oh come on, that’s no fair; i always tell you what the fish say!! like yesterday, the minnows would NOT shut up about about how good your hair looked,” he protests. your cheeks burn even more red; it’s not like compliments from chan never happened, but recently he’d been making more and more little comments that made the butterflies in your stomach go wild. you try to ignore it, pretending like your best friend’s comments just fly over your head. in reality, they most certainly do not, but you are definitely not ready to risk confessing to chan (which you sometimes are very close to doing, like yesterday when you were sitting beside him on the riverbank dipping your toes in the water and the way the sun caught his hair made it look like spun gold and his eyes sparkled like the water of the creek and his lips looked soft flower petals and you just wanted to KISS him) because you don’t think you could handle it if he were to reject you, his flirting merely just him being kind; no, best not to risk it and to just settle for best friends with chan for now.

“oh look, we’re at your pond already,” you say, trying to change the topic, and chan responds with an annoyed huff. you go to step out onto the surface of the water, then pause. “don’t let me get drenched this time,” you warn. yesterday, chan had gotten distracted by a butterfly that had landed in your hair and forgot to focus on helping you walk across the water, so you were unpleasantly submerged in the cold water of his pond.

“oh yeah, sorry about that,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry. you cautiously place your foot on the water, letting out a sigh of relief when you stay upright. the cool liquid moulds to the shape of your foot, supporting your weight as you skip across the pond towards the waterfall. you reach the other side and begin to nimbly clamber up the rocks to the top. chan follows suit, and you sit together on the big flat rock at the top. the sun is fully in the sky now, and you let its rays hit your faces—up here, higher above the trees, it’s much brighter than in the thickly canopied forest below.

“yeah, we definitely missed the sunrise,” chan comments, sounding mildly disappointed.

“it’s okay, we see get to see it pretty much every day, i’m sure missing it once doesn’t hurt,” you say. you feel a little bad, but it shouldn’t really be a big deal. “besides, it didn’t look like it was going to be anything extraordinary,” you say to try and make chan feel a bit better. he merely sighs at your words, gazing off towards the horizon and thinking in silence before turning to look at you.

“it’s always extraordinary,” he says, and you look at him in confusion. there’s a quiet pause while you sit there, your legs dangling off the rocky ledge, little droplets of mist from the waterfall speckling your skin (it’s not a big waterfall by any means, but it’s definitely large enough to still make your head spin a little from the height). chan tentatively reaches his hand up to cup your face, his thumb softly caressing your cheek.

“it’s always extraordinary because you’re always here with me,” he says, voice barely audible over the rushing water. your breath catches and your heart beats double time. chan’s eyes flicker down to your mouth then back to your eyes, hesitating, almost as if asking permission. in perhaps your bravest moment yet, you close the distance between you and you press your lips to his. they’re soft, just like you thought they’d be, and they remind you of how it feels when you run your fingers along the dainty petals of a newly grown wildflower. he tastes of the purest water imaginable, refreshing and cool, like when you step in the shallows of chan’s pond on a hot day and giggle as the minnows tickle your feet. chan moves his hand to the back of your head, and he deepens the kiss.

eventually the need for air prompts you to pull apart, breathless and grinning wide from ear to ear, both of you giggling softly.

“i’m sorry we missed the sunrise,” you say, although it feels silly now. chan let’s out a laugh, eyes wrinkling with his smile and dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“it’s okay, i think this was much better than a sunrise,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss on your forehead, and you can’t help but agree as the two of you sit there looking over the forest as if it’s your kingdom, a realm for you and chan to rule together for eternity.

[fallenfurther]

Fluffember Thank You

Fluffember is finished! (I know it’s the 3rd of December but seeing as I started on the 6th November, I’m letting myself off.) This was my first steps into fanfic writing and I’m happy that I managed to write something for all 30 prompts. It was an incredible achievement and not an easy one either finding myself getting ahead of myself, only for other things to get in the way and be back to writing the post on the day. I’m definitely looking forward to being able to slow down on the writing front (My husband is mildly annoyed I’ve delayed the completion of our crochet blanket again, especially with it getting cold!). But I’m going to continue writing on the tube on the way to work as I’ve found I can get a fair flow going when I’ve got the plot in my head. I want to thank everyone else who has posted during Whumpember and throughout Fluffember as it is you who made me want to join in and write.

 I have to say a big thank you @gumnut-logic for the prompts. There only one way to really show gratitude and that’s to write a fanfic, so this is for you. Enjoy!

***

Nina walked down the crevice away from the others. They had just finished lunch and the guide had given them the go ahead to explore freely, as long as their digital trackers were on. A quick check on her phone and she confirmed her little dot on the map of the caves. She knew it was best to travel in pairs, but she had done the larger caves before and had come to look at the smaller ones.

Nina ran her hand gently along the rock, looking at the striations in the light of her head-torch. Her family had always thought her fascination with rocks and geology weird, but then she didn’t see the world as disposable as they did. Nina valued the resources held within the earth, but not to the point that they should destroy it. The rock dipped, and Nina had to duck low for the next 20 meters before she had to climb up to cavern aptly named, The Grand Passageway. Nina walked the entire length of the passageway before twisting sideways down a thin tunnel to The Seamstresses’ Tomb. Most people passed on visiting the Tomb, but Nina had to come see the fine stalagmites and stalactites which had formed in the cavern.

It was while standing in The Tomb that the rock shook. Nina wobbled, and in the shaking light of her head-torch, saw a crack forming in the ceiling above. Twisting, she headed to the exit, only to trip over in the dark. She felt the sharp tip of a stalagmite run along her side as she fell and winced in pain as the headteacher hit the wall ramming it into her skull. Her body crumpled to the floor. 

Nina blinked. It was pitch black. The rock had stopped shaking but reaching up to her head, she felt the broken front of the torch. Flipping the switch a few times confirmed it was dead. Feeling the floor around her, she found a good place to put her hands and tried to sit up. Pain shot up her leg and along her side, causing her to flop back down on the ground. Nina reach into her pocket. She felt for her phone only to feel the cracks on the screen. Carefully she pulled it out. Nina pushed the power button, but nothing happened. Great, it was dead so no calling for help. She hoped the tracker was still working. Nina reached around and pulled the small pack from her back. She took out the emergency kit and felt for the light. She turned it on, and the Tomb lit up. She looked over her shoulder. Nina could see the rock trapping her feet. Nina wiggled her toes and was relieved that she could still feel them, which meant the rocks were just pinning rather than crushing her, which was a relief. She fetched her water bottle from her pack and had a drink to clean the dust from her mouth, and settled down, ready to wait for someone to find her.

***

The noise startled Nina. She lifted her head to see a light entering the cavern. Nina had to squint as it beamed into her eyes, but relief filled her body. As the light moved closer, Nina could make out the vague form of a man below it through the tears that slipped from her eyes.

“Virgil Tracy, International Rescue. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Her rescuer placed a hand on her shoulder. His face slowly come into focus and Nina smiled at him, noting that he smiled back. She blinked as he moved the light, which was on one of his broad shoulders, out of her eyes. Nina’s heart skipped a beat. Surely it was illegal for someone that handsome to be in the rescue business? It was her light that lit up his face, allowing her to gaze into his chocolate brown eyes.

“N…N…Nina.”

Nina swallowed as heat spread across to her face. Although she was sure many women stammered and blushed when he came to rescue them, she still wished she hadn’t.

“Okay Nina. Just lie still while I scan you for any injuries before I move the rock that is pinning you.”

Nina lay still and watched his face as he concentrated on checking her over. His brown hair was styled, and his jawline was sculpted, making her want to stroke her fingers down in. His uniform was close-fitting, allowing her to see every bulging muscle. From this angle his arms were thick, and she enjoyed the way they moved as he waved the scanner over her body.

“Looks like you’re fine apart from the gash on your side. I’ll see if I can’t move this rock and well get you bandaged up and out of here.”

Nina observed Virgil as he turned to the rock. He crouched down to find a grip on the rock, and Nina was glad the scanner had been put away. There was no way she could hide the increased heart rate brought about by the fabulous pair of buttocks that she had a prime view of. Her rescuer lifted the rock which allowed Nina to pull her feet free. She twisted her body and sat up. Virgil was at her feet almost immediately. He inspected her legs, his hands gripping them lightly, before placing them carefully back down.

“No wounds, but there’s going to be some serious bruising later. You are lucky no bones were broken. Now, if you don’t mind, may I lift you top and quickly clean that gash?”

“Please do.”

Nina took a deep breath as Virgil came closer. He slipped a small medical kit from one of the compartments on his belt and placed it beside him. Replacing his blue gloves with disposable medical ones, he carefully lifted the left side of her T-shirt. Nina winced as he pulled the fabric out of the wound.

“Could you hold you top up for me?

Nina placed her hand over his, before he pulled his away to let her hold the fabric he had been holding.

“This is going to hurt, but it should clean the wound and stop any infections.”

The cold wipe was placed against her skin and brushed gently over the gash. The pain was sudden, and Nina gasped and screwed up her face. The pain dulled as she felt gentle fingers pressed a dressing to her side. She opened her eyes and looked at Virgil at the same time as he lifted his head to look at her.

“All done. Now let’s get you out of here.”

Nina dropped her top and released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. He removed the medical gloves to reveal large hands which Nina wanted to get to know intimately. The dexterity he displayed as he nimbly packed everything away left Nina staring. The last thing he did before standing, was to pull the protective gloves back on. He towered above her and offered out his hand, which she took. He easily pulled Nina to her feet. Pain throbbed in her ankles, causing her to crumple. A hand under her arm kept her on her feet, though it didn’t stop her sucking in a pained breath.

“The bruising is pretty bad. Are you sure you’re okay to walk?”

Nina nodded through the pain. How else were they meant to get through the narrow tunnels if she wasn’t walking? Opening her eyes, Nina took a step forward, Virgil’s hand still under her armpit. Her ankles complained but she stayed upright. Her next step fell on uneven ground, twisting her ankle and forcing Virgil to keep her standing again.

“That’s enough. You can’t walk.”

With that Nina felt his hand move around her back and his other arm behind her knees. Before she could say anything, she was in his arms, and she felt the blush in her cheeks. Nina’s arm automatically reacted around his back. He carried her to the entrance of the Tomb, each of his steps caused her uninjured side to rub against his chest. Nina was thankful his concentration was on the narrow path, as she was sure her cheeks were beetroot red from the contact. His pecks were firm, just like the arm muscles she’d been admiring earlier and now felt against her back. His shoulder was strong beneath the grip of her hand, and she felt safe despite the circumstances. As the cave narrowed, Nina pressed her head into his shoulder, to reduce the likelihood of it hitting the rock. She was surprised at how he carried her even through the lower sections, with barely a grunt. Nina observed his face throughout the journey, his brown eyes looked ahead, his face a mask of concentration. Nina resisted the urge to touch the five o’clock shadow that covered his jaw, as well as the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him close.

He carried Nina the whole way down the Grand Passageway and out into the cavern she’d last seen her group. There was another rescuer standing in the middle of the cave, surrounded by equipment. He was dressed in the same uniform, except his belt was yellow. Nina was lowered onto a stretcher and the other rescuer came over and smiled at her.

“Hi, I’m Gordon. I’ll be taking you from here. Virgil, there are another rock slide blocking the way to the last two people. Would you mind using the exosuit to free them?”

“Of course. You’re in safe hands, Nina. Gordon here is going to take you back to Thunderbird Two, so we can transport you to hospital with the rest of your group.”

Nina’s heart sank at the prospect of saying goodbye to her rescuer, her body already feeling cold without his warmth against her. But she smiled at him and nodded.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“You’re welcome.”

Nina watched as he disappeared down the tunnel and fought the sigh she wanted to release. Gordon started guiding the holostretcher in the other direction, towards the cave system’s entrance. Nina lay back and smiled. What dreams she was going to have tonight!

[tiny-cloud-dragon]

Random Bits: FF7 03

I’m actually not sure I’ve already posted this here or not, so I’ going to post it (possibly again)

[Setting - Cloud finally finds out what gets under Zack’s skin.]

[Location - the streets of Midgar Edge - noon.]

A disembodied Angeal Head floated across the velvety black screen of Cloud's memory, bouncing slowly in random directions like the ghost of an old Windows Logo screensaver. 

"Go take a walk!" it commanded with each ricochet.

It was joined by a Zack Head, which also began bouncing randomly around and repeating "No, don't eat him!"

Cloud scowled to himself as the memory flickered unbidden across the backs of his eyelids.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo*

1st Class SOLDIER Timothy Titsworth burst into the conference room with the force of an angry soccer mom who has just found out her little angel was allowed to watch a PG-13 movie. Known as "Tiddy" (because there was no joining an army without acquiring some kind of weird, cool, humorous, or downright embarrassing nickname that you either loved or hated), Timothy showed great promise as a SOLDIER, but he was overly ambitious, and more than a bit egotistical.  

"What the hell, Tiddy!" Angeal barked, rising from his seat at the conference table, where he had been discussing plans for the upcoming Games with Zack, Cloud, and President Rufus Shinra.

"What the hell, indeed, Sir!" Titsworth snarled, saluting as an afterthought. "I want to be assigned to a higher level training mission-!"

"No." Cloud said firmly as Angeal apologized to Rufus for the interruption. "I already told you that you aren't ready. Get out, now. I am in the middle of a meeting, and you are out of line, Private Tiddy." he continued, deliberately stressing Titsworth's rank as an unspoken reminder of who he was speaking to, and unintentionally making a pun that caused Zack to make a very un-General like snorting sound.

Titsworth looked at Zack like a miffed child hoping that Daddy might say 'yes', even though Mommy  had already said 'no'. 

"General Fair, I-!"

The room was suddenly full of angry dragon. Papers scattered, people made exclamations of surprise, chairs tipped, and someone laughed as Cloud Shifted into his ELIETE form and, with mouth gaping, lunged across the desk at Titsworth. 

Zack jumped on Cloud's long neck, landing just behind his head, and managed to grab the long, whisker/tendril/moustache/feeler thingies trailing from the sides of his snout and hauled on them like reins while shouting "No, don't eat him!"

Massive jaws with long fangs snapped shut inches from Titsworth's face and Cloud goose-honked in pained surprise, pulling his head up and back, twisting it from side to side while backing up as he tried to relieve the sharp pulling on his face feelers.  He Shifted back to his normal shape, leaving Zack sitting in mid-air for the length of an eye blink before gravity caught up with reality and he crashed to the floor.

Zack immediately bounced up and grabbed Cloud by the arm before he could lunge at Titsworth again.

"Go take a walk, "Angeal snapped at Cloud, who was all scowls and hisses. 

"But what about-!" Titsworth began from where he had fetched up against the wall. Like a terrier with a rat, he was not about to let the argument go, out of either a poor sense of self-preservation, or out-right stupidity.

"Shut up, before I tell General Fair to let him go, and we end up having to send your mother an 'In Sympathy for Your Loss' card!" Angeal snapped with that tight-lipped, angry-eyed expression that most teens didn't even have to see to know it was being made. It was an expression that had its own sound. 

Titsworth huffed, but closed his mouth. He remained on the floor, sitting very still as Cloud stormed out of the room. Dragons were like cats. They would go after anything that moved, so it was best not to draw their attention.

*woowoowooscenetransitionwoowoowoo* Cloud shook his head at the memory, causing the Heads to bounce violently around and collide with each other with a double "ouch!" before they faded away. He was only mildly annoyed by now, having walked several blocks, but he couldn't help but feel unjustly put-upon. It wasn't like he'd chosen his ELITE form, and he couldn't help that it would sometimes take over.  It wasn't his fault that dragons had a very simple idea of what constituted 'conflict resolution', and that it mostly involved eating whomever caused the conflict. 

Go take a walk...

Cloud would have rather gone out for a nice long flight. It was much more fun, and relaxing, but it did tend to stir up the city's inhabitants. There was just something about a black winged shadow passing overhead that would send people screaming in panic. Old instincts died hard, and deep in most the primitive part of their brains, people were still just small, soft-bodied squeaky creatures hiding under leaves and flinching at shadows.

He turned a corner and continued walking briskly along the shop lined street, noticing that other pedestrians were trying to avoid him without looking like they were avoiding him. It might have worked, if it had been one or two individuals. There is just nothing subtle about an entire crowd suddenly crossing to the other side of the street.  

Cloud found himself completely alone on the sidewalk. That was fine with him. At least he didn't have to feel like he was in the middle of a school of salmon during their running season. 

The ponderous growl of a heavy engine pulled Cloud from his musings. He paused and turned just in time to watch one of the army's humvees pull up to the curb beside him.

Zack, grinning from ear to ear, leaned toward the open passenger side window and said, in his best Creepy Witch Voice, "Need a ride little girl?"

Cloud hissed at him and resumed walking, forcing Zack to drive slowly along beside him.

"Come on, Spiky! I'm sorry I pulled your face feelers!"

Cloud pointedly ignored him.

"Don't be salty,"

Cloud kept walking.

"Don't be like that-!" Zack steered around a parked car and rolled back along side Cloud. "I'll let you work my stick-shift!"

The offer was met with an icy side eye and frigid silence.

"I'll pay you," Zack venture playfully, with a cheeky grin.

"You can't afford me." Cloud replied curtly.

Zack's grin froze, then shattered into an open mouthed gape as the comment hit him like a cast-iron lightning bolt. The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the feeling that a white-hot icicle had just been fired through his brain.

"I...did...did you...just...?" he stammered, the humvee stalling as he briefly forgot how to drive. Well, I'll be dipped in shit! Now I know how Dr. Hyansen felt! Zack thought after he recovered enough from the unexpected sarcasm that he was able to get the vehicle restarted.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Zack called as he caught up to Cloud and parked. "Just get in, okay? Look," he said, holding up a brown paper bag, "I brought shrimp yum yum sitcks!"

Cloud's eyes were instantly glued to the bag. The scent of shrimp and vegetables in a crispy wrapper covered in toasted sesame seeds hit him straight in the olfactory receptors. He struggled with himself, pushing for Caution, while the dragon part of him drooled all over Common Sense. 

It's obviously a bribe, Cloud warned the dragon.

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

No, he's using food to-!

Shrimp yum yum sticks!

But, listen, he-!

NO! SHRIMP YUM YUM STICKS!

Cloud's stomach growled, and he gave in. As he climbed into the passenger's seat, he had to laugh at himself. Hey little boy, I've got some candy in my van, he thought with a wry snort.

"What are you laughing at?" Zack asked.

"Nothing." Cloud said slightly irritated at how he would do almost anything for those stupid sticks. It was a good thing Zack hadn't brought canned cat food... Cloud snatched the bag from Zack and took a big bite out of one of the sticks while the dragon part of him happily chanted Shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp, shrimp!

"You can still work my stick-shift if you want," Zack offered jokingly, patting the shift handle. He completely missed the slight tightening around Cloud's eyes, and the tiniest of upward curving at the corners of his mouth. 

"I'll pass," Cloud replied, the words coming out slightly distorted as he shoved another yum yum stick into his mouth. "Your knob is too small."

"Wha-!" Zack all but yelped, a full body cringe slamming down his spine as his body tried to physically force the word 'knob' back out through his ears. 

"The knob," Cloud repeated as Zack cringed again, "It's, too small so it makes your hand hurt on long drives."

Zack shot him a suspicious look, but it merely ricocheted harmlessly off the look of genuine sincerity and yum yum stick crumbs on Cloud's face.

"Maybe I should put in a request for bigger knobs..." Cloud suggested, "Bigger knobs would fit more comfortably in your hand and make them easier to manipulate for longer periods of time, right?"

Zack flinched and Cloud could almost see his brain shudder as it tried to use its own stem to tear out his eardrums.

"Stop it!" Zack snapped.

"Stop what?"

"Saying...'knob',"

"What's wrong with the word 'knob'?" Cloud asked, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion while Zack cringed.

"You saying it. It's just...wrong,"

"I'm saying 'knob' wrong?"

"NO! Just stop saying it!"

"There's nothing wrong with knobs," Cloud chided. "Lot's of things have knobs," he continued while Zack cringed  and flinched along. 

"Like radios. Radios have knobs. And tv's have knobs. Dressers have knobs. Oh, and cabinets have knobs. Beds have knobs, and you can put a knob of butter on your toast. Trees have knobs too, and hands can get knobby, and even people have knobs! My mom had knobs and she said that when I annoyed her I was 'twisting her knobs'...or was that 'pushing her buttons? I forget-!"

"Stop saying 'knob'! Zack wailed, hands clamped protectively over his ears.

"Why are you getting so bent out of shape over the word 'knob'?

Zack bristled at the word, his hair lifting like the hackles of an angry wolf. It was then that he noticed the slight crinkling around Cloud's eyes.

"You dick!" Zack snarled, annoyed. "Play Backwater Dummy with me, will you?" He leaned in close, and with a malicious grin, started wiggling his eyebrows.

Cloud recoiled, Shifting into his half-form and hissing shrimp yum yum stick all over Zack's face as memories of a certain Inspector's rather mobile eyebrows rose up to haunt him like a greasy meal at 3am after six beers. 

Unperturbed by the macerated mist, Zack continued wiggling his eyebrows, laughing evilly, "How do you like that huh? Say 'knob' again, you little turd!" He reached out to playfully poke Cloud. 

Out of pure reflex Cloud bit the offending appendage.

Zack yelped more out of surprise than pain, and snatched his hand away, retreating back to the driver's seat to inspect the damage.

"Not cool, man, you gave me a noodle hand!" He said with a pout, illustrating his grievance by flapping his now numb hand around on the end of his wrist.

"I didn't mean to,"

Zack started using his left hand to rapidly and repetitively smack his right arm against his thigh. 

"You want a rag...or... something?"

Zack paused, eyeing Cloud suspiciously. Almost afraid of the answer, he risked asking "For what?"

"So you won't be walking around the rest of the day wearing that  shrimp facial."

"Oh. Yeah." Zack replied, realizing that the remnants of shrimp yum yum sticks were quietly getting crusty on his skin. He took the napkins Cloud fished out of the crumpled bag  on the floor boards and awkwardly used his left hand to wipe his face.

"How's your hand?" Cloud inquired, a note of guilt hovering in his voice.

"Hanging in there," Zack replied with a lopsided grin.

Cloud signed into his hands in mild irritation at Zack's penchant for making jokes out of everything.He felt Zack patting him on the shoulder. There was something awkward about the gesture that had nothing to do with the current atmosphere. 

Looking up, Cloud saw Zack using his left hand to hold his numb arm up by the elbow and slap the appendage down on his shoulder. He imagined that this was exactly how it felt to be patted by a zombie. Cloud snorted in reluctant amusement and shoved the dead arm off his shoulder. The limp limb bounced off the back of the seat and slithered down the armrest to swing loosely at Zack's side.

Both men stared at the arm mutely until it stopped swinging like a slowly winding down clock pendulum before looking at each other.

Zack arched an eyebrow and said, "What? You like the angle of the dangle?"

Cloud rolled his eyes so hard he almost became the first person to find out what the backs of his own eye sockets looked like.

Zack laughed and started the vehicle.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asked in alarm, "You can't drive like that!"

"Sure I can. I'll drive, and you can work my stick!"

"Move, I'm driving."

"Fine. Killjoy.Want me to shift your stick?" Zack asked as Cloud settled into the driver's seat.

"No thanks, I can do it myself."

"Riiiight!" Zack drawled, doing a single finger gun.

"Do you want two noodle arms? Because that's how you get two noodle arms."

"Okay, okay. It's gone, see?" Zack pretended to chuck the offensive appendage armament behind him. 

"You know, it's a good thing we aren't too far from Base." Cloud said as he pulled out into traffic. 

"Why?"

"My hand won't have time to cramp up because of the--!"

"Don't say it--!"

"Knob."

Zack's distressed cry of "Stop saying 'knob'!" rang in the air before dopplering into silence as they drove away.

End.

[chopper-witch]

AWOMOD: I’m Impressed (Ch 7)

Characters: Loki x OC (Ashira)

Warnings: blood, stabbing, boredom induced fighting 

Locations: Her ship

Word Count: 3000+

Summary: Loki figures things out; Ashira is restless.

A/N: There are probably still like a thousand mistakes in this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also, all the fighting is like super, super quick and only within the span of a few minutes. Also, as fanfic writer I’m entitled to do whatever the fuck I want and you can’t stop me.

AWOMD master

Previous

__

The following morning, they leave again with a new set of respect and trust. Instead of messing around with weapons, Ashira decided to stay in the pilot’s seat, mindlessly fidgeting with a dagger as she stared out to the stars. This gave Loki time to rack his brain for everything he knew of Greek mythology. 

“Athena,” Loki declares after five hours. 

Loki’s voice causes Ashira to jump from her seat. The pure white dagger clatters to the ground, droplets of blood with it after knocking her thumb. Her right hand flies to grasp her chest, her left lifting to her lips to stop the bleeding.

“Do not scare me like that, oh my god.” Ashira exhales loudly. “I could have just sent us anywhere, fuck.” 

“Athena,” Loki claims again, coming to stand in front of Ashira. “If she is Selene and translations are messy, Athena. Or Artemis.” 

Ashira laughs at his far too focused face. “Surprised? Athena is not a tall, glorious warrior yet instead is a short, kind of chubby runaway.” 

“I mean Norse mythology claims I gave birth to Odin’s horse... so I know things get sloppy.” 

Ashira blinks a few times to try and adjust her reality, ensuring what he just said is real. Rumors and stories always have a drop of truth to them and thinking he gave birth to a horse is not something you just make up out of thin air. 

“I don’t even want to know why they would think that.” 

Loki shrugs with a smile before it fades just as quickly as it happened, a suddenly confused twist to his features. “Then why are you so weary of magic? Wasn’t Hecate like the Goddess of Magic."

“Her name is Helene, Selene’s younger sister.” Ashira leans her head back. “And no, not really. She was just a major drama queen, like her sister.”

“So then why is Greek mythology so full of mysticism and magic?”

Ashira raises a brow as if it is so obvious. “It’s called high tech science that humans weren’t able to make sense of.” 

“I have a hard time believing that.” Loki slips into the co-pilot seat. “There is amazing technology on Asgard and we still use and practice magic.” 

“That’s fine with me.” Her head tilts back upright. “You’ll see.” A mildly evil grin appears on her face. “You’ll see.”

— 

And he does see, three days later.

They landed on a planet Loki has already forgotten the name of about four miles outside of the closest village (forget city) yesterday. Today Loki is sitting beneath one of the trees in the prairie while Ashira sorts through her weapons. While he much rather be inside where it is cooler, after he witnessed her grabbing a a live bomb seconds before it touched the ground and detonated, he decided to hang outside. 

Surprisingly enough, he isn’t in the mood to die, especially by the hands of stupidity on her part.

So he doesn’t think of anything of the sounds of her walking around the opening in the field as she has already done so several times to layout various equipment. 

Ashira then towers in front of him, the bit of sun he was using to read blocked by the secondary shadow. 

“Here.” A pure black dagger falls on top of Loki’s book. 

It’s entirely matte and unbelievably smooth everywhere but a few spots along the handle where there is clearly texture added to help the grip. 

“What’s this?” He asks. 

“A dagger,” she replies slowly. “I assumed you knew.” 

Loki scowls. “Of course I did. Why did you give it to me?” 

She shrugs. “I’m bored.” 

“So you’d like me to kill you?” Loki questions, mildly concerned about her phrasing. 

“I want you to fight me.” 

Loki finally looks up from his novel to the person blocking his sunlight. Ashira is standing above him, right arm across her body so both hands can rest on her jutted left hip, yet another different outfit donning her body. This one is unusual however: it is simply very short shorts and a tight half-length top without sleeves, both in the same deep royal blue as the items he has identified were likely either standard issue or part of a uniform from her home world. Her hair is braided back into a ponytail for once instead of its normal partly down or entirely braided state. 

And gosh, it’s long even when tied up.  

How fast does her hair grow? 

“You want me to fight you?” 

“I’m bored and haven’t gotten in any real fights recently and you’ve done sparring before so why not?” 

Loki shrugs. “I must ask before we begin: the outfit, standard training wear from your home?” 

Ashira looks down at her clothes, even picking up her right foot to observe her specialized ankle height shoes. 

“Only worn for running and weightlifting, not for this kind of training but it’s hot and my armor is buried deep among other stuff.” 

“You still have your armor?” 

“Of course. I still have everything. It was my ship I took to get off Hala.” 

Loki’s brows furrow. “Wait you escaped Hala? I thought you escaped your home?”

Ashira’s eyes narrow as her face twists at his stupidity. “Has all the chatter on the radio talking about also trying to attack the Kree been erased from your mind or are you just stupid?”

“I just don’t get why you would be there.”

“They have bodies to spare to test powers and also it was decided I would be better suited in their facilities while things were figured out.” Ashira shrugs, ignoring the annoying tiny nagging voice in the back of her mind reminding her that they promised to be honest with each other. “Until of course it was no longer about testing and more about training. Their little experiment program, Inhumans, was then a good source of bodies. Powered enough to face off, not powered enough to actually hurt me.”

Loki nods. “So they kept you there.”

“So they kept me there.”

Loki looks down at the dagger, twisting it between his hands. “Alright, I’ll fight.” 

“But no magic and I won’t accidentally disintegrate myself, deal?”

“Can I at least have more than one dagger?”

“Summon it now.” 

Loki summons a second dagger, changing it to match the one Ashira gave him. He admits this all black look is nice. He stands and carefully leaves the book by the tree. 

“And exactly what will you be fighting with?”

“If I need anything, I can grab it,” Ashira smiles. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. But I have to ask you something that has been bothering me now that you are basically baring yourself to me, what’s with all the scars? Do you normally hide them with cosmetics or something?” Loki asks, twirling around the daggers. 

“Cosmetics?” Ashira chuckles. “No, a biomorphic nanomask that I just stick to my skin and it smooths it over.” 

Loki has never seen anything like that before. “Alright, then why are there so many deep ones with such hacked edges? That’s not torture or surgery.” 

“Well I couldn’t just walk out of there.” Ashira walks closer to him as he stays against the tree. “Had to rid of stuff implanted in me since a few days after my birth. Right wrist tracker, left wrist biomonitor, and near my tailbone was what we called a carousel. Needed any medication? It was fed through there.” She steps closer yet again. Loki presses himself further against the tree to the point where he feels the bark pressing into his skin. “Left upper arm is where they put this disk thing that confined me to the facility I was being held at before I escaped and oh, my neck.” She forces him to stay against the tree, tilting her head to the left to exposing the jagged scar. “Here on my neck is the lovely place where I started my hack job. Whatever bar implant thing they put here was keeping me mostly subdued and basically enslaved.” 

“That does sound like a pain,” Loki replies. He’s grinning. 

Ashira doesn’t reply. She knows he is going to attempt to attack her, likely by her arms. So while he thinks she is still focused on the scars littering her body, she really is thinking of the best spots to hit him.

His right leg swings between her legs and hooks around her right knee. While he expects her to fall, she instead throws herself backwards into a handstand, Loki losing his balance as she does so. She stays upside down and turns herself to face him. 

He’s growling now, body bent over awkwardly from falling. Without a though he flings the dagger in his left hand directly towards her. 

It’s flying towards her right side so she lifts her right arm up and tilts her whole body to the right. Just as the dagger tip flies past her she reaches out and grabs the handle. 

Now upright, Loki is not any happier with her. 

He lunges towards her. She doges by twisting her upper body away. Her hand switches the grip of the dagger and moves it so that the blunt end lands between the tendons in his right wrist. 

He involuntarily releases the dagger and she grasps it in her left hand.

And as he pulls away she knees his stomach yet again. The prince falls back into the tree with each dagger crossed over his neck.

“I’m impressed.” He throws his arms up in defeat. 

Ashira smirks. She tosses the daggers to the side, standing and walking from Loki. As she walks away, Loki takes a moment to stand, honestly impressed with fighting style and technique. And he cannot help but watch her walk away. He catches sight of white along her spine and looks closer. A tattoo, it appears, of some form. A combination of swirling organic shapes and perfectly geometric cubes from what he can tell, even though he can only see half. 

“Wait, you have a tattoo?” 

Ashira looks back over her shoulder to him. “You never noticed?” 

“No…” Loki huffs. “No I haven’t.” 

“Besides when we go out I don’t try to cover… though I guess my hair does a pretty good job at that.” She glances down her spine where only the bottom half of it is visible. 

“So your tattoo, what does it symbolize?” 

“Well do they symbolize things back home on Asgard?” 

“Not typically. Decoration only sort of thing, though sometimes people will get family crests.” 

Ashira nods once before moving her hair from her neck. “Well the spinal tattoo is basically the history of a person on Ares. It begins on the neck with their birth rank which is why I have such a bizarre pattern near my hairline and then goes down from there: battles, kill count, awards, discoveries. Those weird swirls? Got those for making new technology.” 

“And all those tiny little dots?”

“Kill count.“

While he cannot count every single one (mostly due to the nature of her shirt) there are easily thousands of little white dots totaling somewhere near 6,000 that he can see, forget the ones he can’t.

Ashira chuckles at his slightly agape mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re frightened.” 

He looks back to her face. “Curious.” 

“Good.” Ashira turns back to face him. “Again?”

“I’ll beat you this time.”

“No you won’t.”

He summons the daggers into his hands again. 

They both go charging at each other, this time Ashira jumping over him and grabbing a branch easily. Loki spins to slash at her but she just lifts her legs up with the rest of her body as he goes charging back towards the tree. 

He spins around again. Before he can get far, however, Ashira drops her legs down, thighs wrapping tightly around his neck, ankles crossing. She releases the branch and throws her torso towards the ground. Her hands touch the grass just as Loki grips her calves with the knives tucked in his thumbs. His fingers press into the underside of her knees to attempt to force her legs to move, but she just yanks him forward as her hands finally touch the ground. 

Loki skids forward and catching himself right before he lands face first. He looks up to see Ashira coming down from a handstand perfectly. 

She grins at his nearly fallen form. 

Then he charges at her with his daggers ready. His right hand swings out to swipe at her but she simply ducks, grabbing his left arm and pinching between the tendons on his forearm and he involuntarily drops the dagger. 

Now they stand opposite to their previous stances, his left dagger now in Ashira’s left hand. 

“Ready?” Ashira teases. 

“For what?” 

No words are said as she charges at him. He ducks to avoid her and possibly catch her with his dagger only for her to jump up again suddenly. Before Loki even knows what’s happening the dagger lands in his shoulder and Ashira perfectly rolls upright. 

“Ah!” He screeches, hand flying to grab his left shoulder with his right hand.

“Sorry.” Ashira shrugs. “Not really though.” 

“By Valhalla and Hel you couldn’t just tap me instead?”

Ashira shakes her head as she attempts to hide her smile. “Nah. And I know you heal quick enough for it to not be a problem. I’ll grab something if you’d like to seal it entirely right now.” 

“That’d be lovely.” He grunts as he yanks the dagger out. 

She comes back a minute later with a tube no larger than her pinky finger in her hands. Loki has fallen back against the tree. His seidr isn’t working as well as he hopes it would for healing - in fact, it is doing absolutely nothing. 

“Here.” 

Loki grabs the bottle from her. While he fumbles with opening something so small, she leans against the tree as well, internally laughing at how ungraceful he is at the moment. 

The second the gel hits his skin he hisses. It stings; it stings worse than that time Thor thought it would be funny to pour wine mixed with salt in one of his worse cuts from a training incident gone wrong. But then it seals over like he was never cut in the first place. He watches as his skin and muscles and nerves stitch themselves back together, miniature tendrils attaching back to one another. 

“Huh.” Loki touches his skin gently. No pain, no blood. 

“Yeah, huh.” She pushes away from the tree and turns on her toes to face him. “Now, go ahead and use your magic. But try to keep up.”

She reaches her left hand out towards the ship. A pair of white batons goes flying through the between them, landing in each of her hands. 

Loki’s brows furrow. “You know magic?”

“It’s called science, like I said.” She twirls the batons around. “Let’s do some science versus magic fighting. Show you why the humans were wrong.” 

So he goes for his magic instantly. Any form of memory reading or even an attempt to usually puts people down for a moment or two.

He presses his palm to her forehead. 

Instead of memories, it’s blank, fuzziness. Static, just like before. No, not like before. Even worse. It’s pure blackness in her mind. 

Loki, the stubborn asshole he is, keeps trying to push into her mind.

While he is distracted trying to pick her mind, Ashira grabs his left hand and pins the wrists together. Loki pulls back at this. Ashira knees his stomach, pulling herself back to extend his arms behind him as he falls to his face. Her grip causes both of his arms to pull uncomfortably behind his back. Then she steps onto his back with her right foot, wedging it between the shoulders and pulls up.

Loki yelps at the twist in his upper back as she forces his muscles to separate in ways that are most definitely not natural.

“Science,” Ashira gloats, releasing his arms and stepping away from him. She calls her batons back to her hands. 

Loki stands slowly. “I’m impressed, I’ll admit. But how do I know you aren’t using magic as well?”

“Truce, for now, so I can show you.” Loki nods once. “Alright, here.” She switches both of her batons to her right hand and extends her left. “Feel.” 

Loki takes her hand tentatively. She could flip him over even if she is cupping her hand and she has no legitimate traction.

“Feel it. There’s a bit in there like a magnet.” 

His thumbs run over the crevices in her hand. He uses his magic to feel for different particles in her hands, finding an entire circuitry of electronics within her. There is a device in the center of her left palm, little tendrils of metal reaching up her wrist, deeply embedded in her arm’s nerves, extending as far as her brain stem. 

“My right hand only has the magnet. I’m left handed so this was installed to go through my left arm to align with any of my weaponry.”

“So you can call anything to you?” 

“Not anything, but things aligned with it. Batons, my sword, most of guns and grenades... Important things.” 

Loki drops her hand. “What if you need to improvise?” 

“You did just see me beat your ass like a bunch of times, right? And stab you?” Loki rolls his eyes. “Plus near anything makes a weapon.”

“Suppose you aren’t wrong about that. I must say, I’m impressed.” 

“That’s why I am weary of magic. If it can be done through mystical means, it can be done with science.” She rests her hands on her left hip again. “Science is proven, nearly infallible once everything is factored in. Magic is messy.” 

Loki cocks an eyebrow. “Science is still messy.”

“Yes but it makes sense.” She motions with her batons still pressed against her hip. “Magic doesn’t.” She points at him with the baton in her left hand

“Alright, another question. Why is all your stuff white? Why white?”

“Every planet has its colors, right?”

“Right.”

“Well Ares’ colors are that blue color and silver and white,” she taps the left toe of her shoe on the grass and leaves it there, weight moving almost entirely to her right leg. “As you get higher in rank, people can change their weaponry from the blue and silver to another color or a custom pattern. Most people go to all blue or all silver or something simple like that, but I wanted something different. So all of it is a pure white.”

“Interesting. But doesn’t white get dirty easily?”

A very terrifying grin pulls at her lips. “The blood falls right off.”

Loki opens his mouth to ask how that is possible, but closes it. He doesn’t want to know. Sort of scared to ask in the event she just tries to swipe at him to show him. 

“Now come on, we should move soon. This planet actually has a Kree and Aresian outpost on it and capture or death is not in my plan for today.” 

He gapes at that. 

“How stupid can you get?” 

“Oh, it can get a lot worse.” Ashira tosses both batons to flip them around. “For real, we need to leave. The radars degrade the cloaking over time and there is approximately two hours before it will be entirely uncloaked.” 

“It’s like you want to be captured.”

The ex-princess simply shrugs and sighs. “I know the limits of the technology because I either built it myself or with Er -” She stops herself suddenly. 

No, she reminds herself, don’t bring it up. 

“Some others.” 

The prince knows she cut herself off to avoid telling him something. A name, most likely. 

Something too personal to her. Something she won’t share. 

Or maybe something she can’t. 

___

Next

___

Taglist: 

@illogicalfangirl @tarynkauai

[pendragonfics]

Half-Magic Bookstore Girl

Paring: Stephen Strange/Reader

Tags: female reader, bookstores, magic, canon compliant, idea of soulmates, set after Doctor Strange (2016), kissing, an almost mugging, fluff. 

Summary: To be honest, the whole notion of magic was not quite as shocking to you as to other people; your grandmother, and her mother, and her grandmother all had the Sight themselves, and with that, had the ability to see strange things that were within the world. That was great and all, but it was 2018, and New York City had used its capacity for magic up when it allowed for the superheroes to roam.

Word Count: 2,401

Current Date: 2018-01-18

As the primary owner to the bookshop on the corner of West street, it should have been more of a shock to you when you found a very special book come in with the shipping of new stock. To be honest, the whole notion of magic was not quite as shocking to you as to other people; your grandmother, and her mother, and her grandmother all had the Sight themselves, and with that, had the ability to see strange things that were within the world. That was great and all, but it was 2018, and New York City had used its capacity for magic up when it allowed for the superheroes to roam.

You’d went almost all your twenty-seven years of life without seeing a scrap of magic, and yet, when it arrived, it wasn’t that much of a shock. Because laying within the crate between the new titles for upcoming release and the freshly minted special edition printed Mr. Men & Little Miss series, was a different book.

It had a leather cover, bound with strange markings, and once your fingertips touched it, you felt a chill run up your arms, settling behind your neck. Sure, you’d seen your grandmother practicing simple disappearing spells on teacups from the kitchen to the bathroom, but they never had the same feel as this item.

The only logical thing to do was flip the sign to the shop to closed! and sit in the back room with a cup of peppermint tea and a slice of lemon cake and stare at the thing.

“Um…hello?” you speak to the book, like it’s alive. It’s better to be respectful than not, and treating it like an equal was one way to do that. “My name’s ________. If you could –,”

With all the windows closed in the back room, there was a sudden breeze that smelt of summer wind, and the cover and pages flicked open, sending your tea dribbling down your fingers as you jumped. Slowly, the pages stopped moving, until it settled upon an open spread nearly midway in the book. But peering, you saw that there were no words upon the page, no pictures, no lines, or markings at all. There were only blank pages the colour of aged parchment or tea-stained napkins.

“What are you showing me?” you ask the book. Beside you, a biro began to wobble, shaking where it lay upon the table. Discarding your tea, your fingers take the ballpoint pen, and move to the open book. “You want me to draw? I’m rubbish, I can only draw clouds, and they look like hats…” the pen pulsates in your fingers, and moving itself, puts its tip down upon the page, and writes a word.

Hello.

“Write? I can write,” you tell the book, chuckling under your breath. If this magical book that acted like it was part Ouija board knew anything about you, it was once upon a time before dropping out of college, you had worked toward a degree in writing literature. “Alright, here we go…”

Hello, was already written…my name is ________. Is anyone there?

---

Somewhere across the world, there was a sorcerer supreme who seemed a bit down on his luck. Of all days, this could have potentially been a good one, but, alas, it was not. The magic he channelled into his hands to heal was not working so well, and he had woken up with an ache within his phalanges, riding up his arms until he felt mildly annoyed. Ever since he expended a lot of energy aiding the Asgardian prince Thor and his brother Loki in their quest, he found himself tired often. Perhaps he needed to consult some more ancient texts for guidance, or meditate.

But he wasn’t doing those today. Instead, he was cataloguing the recent intake of relics found all over Earth and the known galaxies, and taking precautionary reasoning with all of them. Not all had come from friendly guests, and not all had been taken willingly, but, there was magic within all of them. Wong, the former librarian of Kamar-Taj, was helping him with this task, and within a short amount of time, they were nearly all secured.

“I do not see why we do not put them into a safe location after we find them,” Wong grumbled, “letting them sit around isn’t a good practice, Strange.”

He nodded absently, tired, and not taking in the words of his colleague. “Hmm.” The other man shook his head, and moved on to the next artefact to store. But the item, a small leather-bound book with strange markings on it moved from his reach, and with its own magic, flew itself into the hands of Doctor Strange.

“We’ve got a runner!” Wong cried, starting the spell for fire with his hands.

But Stephen waved him off, feeling a sensation run through his entire body at the mere touch of the book. He recognised some of the markings – one for protection, for balance, and upon the top of the spine, the mark of the Ancient One. Though misguided in her later years, he understood the gist of what his old teacher had gotten into, and in hindsight, understood her. His fingers fumbled at the edge of the book, working to open the pages when they moved on their own once more, opening to the near mid-centre, where eight words were written with penmanship he hadn’t seen before.

“Did the Ancient One tell you anything about this book?” He asked Wong, showing him the marking upon the top of the spine. “…this is strange, I feel something bizarre about it, like…like it’s supposed to happen.”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re going crazy too,” he said, and moving toward where he stood, pointed to the mark. “She had many secrets in her time, but…” he glanced around the room, making sure they were alone, “she did confide in me that she had created an artefact. Twin books, alike in every way, meant to be found by people who were destined to meet.”

Stephen looks once more at the words, wondering what it meant for him.

“Do you have a pen on you?”

---

Closing the shop up for the day, you turned the key in the door, and set down the way with your messenger bag and playlist of Pink Floyd. The best part about being the primary owner of the store meant that you could close the store at five, count the draws, tidy up for the next day, and be out by five thirty. But today, with the sun going lower in the city skyline, night came faster, and so did the trouble that followed. While you loved living in Hell’s Kitchen for all the great history and things found in impossible places, those same impossible places produced people who would do terrible, terrible things.

You turned down your music as you came to a street corner a block away from your apartment block, feeling a niggling sensation in the back of your mind that you were being followed. A quick glance in the streetlight-lit reflection of the deli behind you proved that suspicion correct; there were two men, and a woman following you. As soon as the light turned green, you walked out, but even though your fear is incensing you to fly, you don’t stop long enough to see the speeding taxi.

It’s then a golden circle of light appears, and the taxi disappears – falling into the circle, and appearing three feet away, out of another circle. Your eyes are wide, and the girl who had been following you bolted away at the sight of magic.

But the two men were still there, and all you could do to your feet was wiggle your toes, not run away. When ever had wiggling your toes been an advantage in a moment like this? Rummaging in your messenger bag, you look for something that can be used to deter them, some sort of weapon, but all your fingers can find is the magical book you came upon this morning.

“Get away from me!” you cry out, holding the book like it’s a baseball bat, ready to whack one of the men following you. It wasn’t a copy of Eragon, stuffed-full of 1,000+ pages, but still, you’d been to softball camp eight summers in a row during childhood, and right now, were filled with rage and confusion and would fight to the very end. “Want a piece of me now?”

As you said that, the men shook where they stood, looking afraid. You were just normal ol’ ________, nothing scary about you except for the fury you had for people who returned borrowed books back with dogears and stains. Glancing over your raised arms, you see a man. He has a kind face, focused, with slim eyes and trim facial hair. He wears blue and red, a mystical cape flowing behind him as he floats behind you. Hands raised, there are glowing sparks and shapes coming from his moving hands, and he projects them toward your would-be attackers.

But while one goes to run, the other grabs a loose brick from the nearby storefront, and throws it toward the floating man behind you. You manage to duck in time, but the two-fingered ring falls from his hand, clattering to the pavement. While the man approaches, undeterred by the magic, you dive for the strange ring upon the pavement of Hell’s Kitchen.

The book in your hand vibrates at the presence of this artefact, your fingers fumble, trying to work the ancient good luck and magic that your grandmother had told you time after time while raising you. Within seconds, you manage to create a circle of golden light like you’d seen before, and grabbing the ankle of the man behind him, you pull him into the circle, away.

---

Stephen Strange had never seen a common person use a sling ring. He’d never had good luck with them, either, and when he sees the frightened yet determined face of the woman before him operating it, he was taken aback. Even more so when she took his ankle in her grasp, and pulled him into the portal.

When he opens his eyes, he’s atop a building of apartments upon the roof, standing unsteadily at the unwilling transportation. Looking over the city, he sees he’s travelled a block away from where he had just been, rescuing the girl who had written to him in the magical artefact.

She knelt before him, panting, a small pool of sick in a puddle beside her.

“How do you know how to use a sling ring?” He asks her, kneeling to her level. Using his grasp of magic, he sends her expelled vomit elsewhere, and pushes her chin up, so he can see her face clearer. She looks just like anyone he could see in the world – ordinary. Except…her eyes. They stare back at him, and he feels the same that he did when he looked at the handwriting in the book. “How did you encounter the magical book created by the Ancient One?”

She chuckles. “I’m half magic,” she tells him, like it’s an inside joke he doesn’t understand. “All the women in my family are, all the way back in history.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well, so is having a guy appear out of nowhere and scare a pair of muggers off.” She retorts. “And to be honest, I didn’t know what your ring did. I just…got a pull to it. You can have it back,” she takes it from her fingers, and places it in his hands. “Good thing I saved myself.”

He blinks, wading through the sarcasm, but undeterred, he asks, “Are you the ________ who wrote in the book?” She sits there, silent. Then, she nods. Using his mystical abilities, Stephen reaches into the mirror dimension where he stored his copy, and writes in the space under where her text had been. “I would look in your book if I were you.”

He opens his to where he wrote earlier with Wong’s quill, taking in his terrible doctor’s handwriting.

Hey there. My name is Stephen, and I’m here.

She reads the words, and looks to him. Then glances back at her pages, and then back to him. “This wasn’t there earlier.” He shows his copy of the book to her, where he conjures a pen, and begins to write upon the page. As he does, it appears on her pages, and quiet, she sits there, dumbfounded. Then, “How did you get the book?”

Stephen closes his copy, and clears his throat. “It was from a raid upon an old stronghold of the followers of a rouge sorcerer, Kaecilius. While we recovered old scriptures and artefacts, we also found a book, leather-bound, and containing nothing but empty pages and runes on the cover. He turns the book over, running his fingers over them. “A friend of mine said the previous Sorcerer Supreme created two books, alike in every way that were meant to be found by people who were destined to meet.”

________ frowned. “Destined? Like soulmates or something?”

Stephen shrugged. “Something like that, I suppose. She saw into the future, and died recently. As I understand, she had some tie to me in that way, but you…perhaps she was a part of your lineage.”

“Wow,” she whispers, and leaning toward him, goes to sink her head against his chest. But Stephen moves at the wrong time, and suddenly they are nearly inches away from their lips touching each other’s, and ________ laughs. It’s warm against his skin, and before he knows it, her hands are around his shoulders, and they’re kissing. “I’ve already had a crazy day, kissing you just feels right.”

As they break apart, he pushes the hair from her eyes, taking her in. Maybe the Ancient One wasn’t so blinded by her actions, and her foresight with this venture was something he needed, that ________ needed.

“So, half-magic bookstore girl,” he says, smiling as he saw how the stars above reflected into her eyes. “Can I walk you to your home, and then ask if we can do this once more?”

She considers his proposal, kissing his cheek. “Yeah, except I don’t want to be nearly mugged next time. Sorcerer.”

[someonesingingalong]

taxi (I)

elevate my heartbeat

- 

The neon lights from the local bar reflect onto the streets outside. The cool weather isn’t unusual for January, but the occasional gust of wind makes it feel like the temperature is dropping by the minute. Hope’s hands shake as she ends the call on her phone and returns it to her back pocket. She clasps her hands together and brings them to her mouth, blowing hot air in a poor attempt to remain warm. She regrets not grabbing anything else but her oversized sweater- usually, she stays out long enough to the point of overheating in an overcrowded bar, but tonight she’s turning in early. She lets out a yawn that turns into a visible puff of cold air and realizes that camp had been more exhausting than she originally thought it would be. She knows the first one of the year is always tough, with fitness tests and all, but Hope feels her. The influx of younger players isn’t necessarily a bad thing; they have pushed them all in different ways. Their team is getting faster and stronger each day, and while they still struggle to find chemistry, Hope is certain they’ll make significant progress in no time and be an even better team than the one in Vancouver. They have to be if they have any chance at earning another star.

 Hope looks at her watch; it’s a quarter past ten. Her ride back to the hotel should arrive within the next five minutes, but she can barely keep her eyes open. They just about flutter shut when she hears a door swing open followed by a stumble of steps. She’s mildly annoyed that she’s not alone anymore- she doesn’t have the energy for a conversation- but when she turns around, her expression softens. She can’t help it (she never can).  

“Hope, hey!” It’s Kelley, face flushed with a nearly empty drink in hand. She walks over and Hope feels her energy roll off in waves. She stands up a little straighter.

 “Hey.” Hope greets in return. A part of her knows it’s just in Kelley’s nature to be so approachable, so likeable. But another part of Hope wonders if there’s intention behind her actions. She wonders if her younger teammate purposely seeks her out; it’s more often than not that she finds the younger woman lingering around her, even if it’s just for a small fist bump or an exchange of looks. This thought alone is enough to make her palms sweaty. It shouldn’t, but there’s always been a lot of should nots between them. Should not have been roommates. Should not have been friends. Should not have left the after party in London, alone. Should not be alone tonight.

 “Where are you running off to?” Kelley asks, her eyes widening with an idea. “Wait no, I want to guess. Let me guess! Don’t tell me!” She grips Hope’s arm, as if her alarmed tone wasn’t enough.

 “Okay…” Hope says slowly, more concerned by Kelley’s hands and their potential to wander. She knows from experience.

 Kelley lets go though and brings her hand to her chin in a classic pensive look. Hope smiles at her dramatics, completely oblivious to the fact that Kelley’s actually serious about whatever game she’s trying to play. Hope doesn’t mind though; it’s killing her wait time.

 “Oh, I got it!” Kelley’s on her toes now, taking a step closer to Hope without actually touching. “You’re going to a coffee shop!”

 “Yeah,” Hope’s on auto-pilot, completely distracted by the distance (or lack thereof) between her and the shorter brunette. She quickly corrects herself, “What? No, Kell, what coffee shop would be open now?”

 “Well, I don’t know…I’m close though, right? You’re getting coffee, but at one of those gas stations, right?” Kelley shoots her finger guns, making some sort of clicking noise with her mouth.

 Hope stares at Kelley in disbelief. Sometimes it’s hard believing she graduated from Stanford. She reasons, “Kelley, why would I be getting coffee this late? It’s ten at night. Where do you think I’m going?”

 “Ahhh, yes, yes…I know exactly where you’re heading. It’s that place we all came from. You know, it’s like home but sorta not really home. There’s a bed with pillows and complimentary breakfast in the mornings and those really nice old men who greet you every time you enter or leave. It’s called, uhm…oh gosh, don’t tell me, it’s on the tip of my tongue…”

 “You’re joking right?” If it weren’t Kelley, Hope would’ve walked back to the hotel by now. Where was her damn ride?

 “Don’t tell me! I almost have it!” Kelley pauses shortly before giving up, “Okay fine, I give up. It’s too hard.”

 “A…hotel?”

 “YES! That’s it!” Kelley’s eyes shine like a kid on Christmas morning, completely unaware of her drink sloshing all over the place. “Yes! Thank you! I knew it. You and I, Hope-” She points between them wildly, “We’ve always been on the same page!”

 Realization dawns over Hope, she can’t believe how tired she was to miss this. Her response is flat. “You’re drunk.”

 “Am not!” Kelley shoots her a look, taking great offense.

 “Yeah, you are.” Hope bends down slightly, her suspicions confirmed as she gets a strong whiff of alcohol. “Give me that before you spill the rest of it.” Hope takes away her drink, grabbing her arm at the same time. “You’re going back inside before you wander off lost and it’s New Orleans all over again.”

 “Hey, I was not that drunk that night! I mean, we had to do Abby’s sendoff justice.” Kelley tries to struggle free, but after realizing she’s no match to Hope’s goalkeeping arms, she grins stupidly. She kind of likes it. Hope rolls her eyes.

 There’s definitely intention.

 Before Hope can drag her any further down the sidewalk, she sees an outpour of her teammates from the entrance to the bar. Alex is the first to spot them. “Oh, I found Kelley!”

 “You guys leaving already?” Hope tugs at Kelley, bringing her over to the rest of the group.

 “Well someone got us kicked out.” Emily glares at Carli, standing next to a timid Sam.

 “What karaoke bar does not have ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’? Absolutely ridiculous. That’s a classic duet!” When Carli’s riled up, the team can’t help but pick on her. It’s amusing- and it’s good for her.

 Becky smirks, “You’re just mad that we destroyed you guys at pool.”

 “No, I’m not! We deserve a second challenge. I vote for darts, but oh no, Pinoe insists on karaoke and you listen! We wouldn’t be here if we just stuck with darts. We never listen to Pinoe! Why would we do that now?!”

 Pinoe perks up from afar, hearing her name. “Keep your panties on, Carl!”

 Sam speaks calmly, “It’s really, okay, Carli…I don’t mind. It was just one game of pool. We can come back another time and-”

 “Are you giving up on me?!” Carli turns to Sam, sending her a look of betrayal. “We don’t give up. You understand? I’m tired and I want to be anyone else but here, but we’ve been challenged. We don’t give up ever.”

 Pinoe shouts back, “Guys, quit the bitching. Let’s go! Alex and Allie found us another bar, just a couple blocks down.” The three of them begin to lead the way.

 Hope sees a bright yellow taxi turn on the street (finally). “Oh, thank god. Guys, my ride is here. Take Kelley.” She gently pushes her forward.

 Sonnet looks at them, confusion etched on her face. “She’s not going back with you?”

 “Hey, that’s a great idea!” Kelley looks up at her, excitement building.

 “No, it’s a terrible idea.” Hope cuts off Kelley. She tries not to overthink the fact that her teammate would think she and Kelley were leaving together. Hope walks towards the taxi, placing a hand on the door handle. She’s close to her escape, but she can already tell things are only going downhill from here. “I’m going straight to bed when I get back.”

 “Now you’re talking.” Kelley winks, and Hope feels warmth rising to her face and she’s never been more grateful for the darkness outside.  

 “Look, she’s drunk- like too drunk- to come out with us anymore.” Becky points out, “Can’t you just make sure she gets back to the hotel in one piece?”

 “Oh no you don’t…” Hope shakes her head, now opening the door of the taxi. “You cannot just leave me alone with her.”

 “I’ll be good, I promise!” Kelley begs, her eyes widening almost to the point that Hope can’t say no.

 “See? She promises, Hope!” Becky chuckles and then continues seriously, “Please just take care of her for us, okay?”

 “Well of course I would.” Hope glares, resigning. She doesn’t know where the night is heading, but she also wants to find out. She beckons, “Okay, come on, Kelley.”

 “Really?!” Kelley’s eyes shine as she skips over to Hope. She gushes, “You’re so kind.”

 Carli is heard yelling at them to hurry up. Becky sighs heavily, “Okay we have to go before your best friend rips us a new one.” She fishes into her pockets, “Here’s our room key. I’m guessing we won’t be back or quite awhile. You can leave it at the front desk or I’ll probably just crash somewhere else. See you later!” She and Emily jog after the rest of their team.

 “Bye.” Hope barely gets out, before realizing and calling out, “Wait, Becky, why would you crash somewhere else?! I’m not staying with her!” She hears distant laughter and lets out a heavy sigh. She’s about to step into the car when Kelley startles her.

 “Curb! Curb!” Kelley’s pointing towards the ground at their feet.

 “Yeah, I know.” Hope says, “Come on, just watch your step.”

 “You watch your step.”

 Hope gives her a stern look, “Get in the damn taxi, Kelley.” She grips the younger woman’s shoulders, guiding her in.

 “Help! Help! I’m being kidnapped!” Kelley jokes, struggling against Hope’s touch until she’s well situated in the back.

 Hope apologizes to the driver, “Hi, thanks for waiting.” She leans further forward and whispers. “If you can get us back to the Marriott on 6th street in less than twenty minutes, I’ll tip you extra.”

 They begin to move and Hope notices Kelley fidgeting. She sighs, “Will you keep still?”

 “You’re no fun.” Kelley frowns, frantically touching everything all at once to spite her seatmate in the back.

 Hope yawns, “Please, I’m tired.”

 Kelley now occupies herself with the little button on the inside of the door handle. The window slowly rolls down, and then up….and back down….and back up. Hope closes her eyes and silently prays for patience. She hears Kelley and by the sound of her voice, she already knows her eyes are bright with no good. “Oh! I want this to be like that one movie!”

 “What movi--Jesus, Kelley! Get back in here!” Half of Kelley’s body is hanging out of the window, and she knows that if she doesn’t do something in the next ten seconds, their ride would include a visit to the emergency room. She reaches across the back seat to grab Kelley’s waist.

 “This is the dream!” Kelley shouts, the cool breeze sending her hair in all sorts of directions. She frowns as she feels herself being reeled back in. “Hope…” She whines loudly, “Let me live for a few more seconds!”

 “Sit down and I’ll let you live for the rest of your life.”

 Kelley struggles for good measure. She looks down at Hope’s strong grip, and when she lifts her head, a smirk forms. “You can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

 “No, I cannot.” Hope watches as Kelley’s brows wiggle, teasing her. She almost laughs, but keeps it together because- well, she’s an adult.

 “I think it’s nice.” Kelley’s cheeky smile is both irritating and cute.

 “Well I think it’s necessary.” Hope rolls her eyes, freeing a hand to reach around Kelley and roll the window back up. Kelley responds by hovering a finger around the button, the window going back down. “Roll it back up, Kelley, I’m cold.” Hope feels the temperature of the taxi continue to drop.

 “Well I’m h-o-double-t-hott.”

 “Not funny.” Hope’s expression is serious. When Kelley fails to listen, she raises her voice, “Quit playing with that!”

 “Okay, Mom.” Kelley sticks out her tongue in a childish manner.

 “Don’t test me.”

 “Fine, fine, I’m sorry.” Kelley puts her hands up apologetically, but there’s a spark of trouble still evident in her eyes. She clears her throat. “You can let go now.”

 Only now does Hope notice her hands, dangerously placed at Kelley’s hips. She lets go immediately without a word and moves closer to her side of the vehicle. She looks out the window and feels warmth creep up her neck. She hopes Kelley doesn’t notice (oh but she does).

 It’s quiet, but only for a minute. Kelley can’t stop playing with the zipper on her leather jacket and it’s not even that loud, but Hope hears it ringing in her ears. “Psst…psst…Hope?”

 Hope reluctantly turns her head to the side, whispering, “Yes, Kelley?”

 “Do you want to know a secret?” Kelley asks in a hushed whisper.

 “No, but you’re going to tell me anyways, aren’t you?”

 Kelley giggles, sharing, “I haven’t been this drunk since the World Cup.”

 Hope knows it won’t do any good trying to convince her otherwise so she brings a hand to her chest, appalled, “No! The World Cup?!”

 “Shhh! Shhh!” Kelley hushes her, moving closer to Hope. “Keep it on the down low! You can’t tell anyone.”

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” Hope promises.

 “Pinky swear?” Kelley adds.

 “I swear.”

 “No, Hope, pinky swear?” Kelley emphasizes, bringing her last digit of her hand up in front of Hope’s face. It’s ridiculous.

 “Kelley…”

 “Come on, you gotta do it! You gotta!” Kelley whines until Hope can’t do anything other than hook their fingers together to shut her up. Kelley literally has her wrapped around her fingers.

 Kelley, of course, is far from done. She sighs loudly, and then again and again. Hope sees their hotel in the far distance; she just needs to last another five minutes or so. “Do you have something else you want to say?”

 “Well, not really. It’s just…well, things were so different back then.” There’s a raw honesty underlying Kelley’s voice, and Hope wants to hear more.

 “It’s only been a year.” Hope responds.

 “Things were so good.” Kelley’s short statement makes Hope think. Kelley wasn’t wrong. They had been on top of the world- they still were, but in a different way. The road to Vancouver wasn’t an easy one, but when they arrived, it was like life had only just begun. They played like they never played before, and loved the game fiercely. They won, but they were hungry for more. They would have that chance to make history at Rio.

 Hope peruses, “I know you’re drunk right now, but if we’re going to have this conversation, I’m going to need a little context around ‘things’.”

 “Everything. The tournament, the team, my role on the team-”

 “Hey, you’ve earned your starting spot.” Hope cuts her short. She doesn’t understand why Kelley’s still second guessing herself.

 “Sure. Maybe.” Kelley looks down, shielding herself from Hope’s intense stare. She asks timidly, “But am I ready?”

 “You’ve been ready since London. You played every minute with me. I know, Kell, you’re a good player.”

 “But the team is so different now. I just don’t feel connected to as many people as I did back then. I don’t know who I can lean on, both on or off the field. I can’t juggle a relationship outside my career. It’s too hard and I…I’m going to die alone.”

 Hope watches Kelley’s insecurities unfold in front of her, escalating at a rapid pace. She knows she’s not exactly coherent at the moment, but she knows that these thoughts are coming from deep within nevertheless. She confronts her, “Whoa, slow down. You are not going to die alone.”

 “How do you know?” Kelley stresses.

 “Because…” Hope is careful with her next words. “Because you’ll have me.” The instant flicker in Kelley’s eyes makes her realize that she hadn’t been careful enough.

 “Oh! Oh-”

 “No-”

 “-Oh! I have an idea.” Kelley scoots unbelievable close, her voice low. “If we’re both like 40 and still single, we have to get married, okay?”

 “Yep, there it is.” Hope knew this conversation was inevitable, especially with Kelley in such a state. She plays along for the second time- somewhere along the ride, she’s given up on fighting all logic and reason. “Let’s elope in Vegas. That’s one everyone does!”

 “That’s what I was going to say! I like it! Quick and dirty!” Kelley grins, and Hope’s breath hitches. “You know what, Hope? You are my soulmate.” Hope can’t help but laugh, now that finger guns are involved. Kelley smiles, too, cocking her head to the side, “What’s so funny?”

 “You are hammered.”

 “I am not! I mean it, Hope, I really do. You’re my soulmate!” Kelley’s voice increases in volume.

 Hope makes eye contact with the driver in the front, and he’s laughing with them. She shifts her look back to Kelley. “I’m sorry, Kell, but I’m kind of taken.”

 “Only kind of?” Kelley tests.

 “I’m very much taken.” Hope repeats, holding her hand up and pointing to her ring. “See?”

 “Oh.” Kelley deflates back into the seat. She realizes, “So I am going to die alone.”

 “No!” Hope wants to chuckle, but she keeps her tone at bay. “No, you won’t, I promise. You have me-as a friend,” She quickly clarifies, her eyes softening. “You will always have me.” Maybe it’s the way Kelley looks back at her or maybe it’s the sudden realization that their night was just beginning that causes her heart to pound against her chest, but she had spoken the truth. She meant every word.

 “Thanks, Hope.” Kelley’s hands are now playing with the ends of hers sweater (Hope’s not at all surprised). “You’re pretty lucky, you know, to have found your soulmate.”

 Hope just stares at Kelley. She truly was. But she finds herself telling her, “Marriage isn’t all that it seems, Kell.”

 “No.” Kelley refuses to believe, “No, it has to be with you. Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.” Hope doesn’t know how to answer; she’s in no place, anyways. Kelley’s hands have ventured to her legs now. She swallows, “Your hands, Kelley.”

 Kelley responds nonchalantly, “I know.” She winks. “Now, we’re even.”

 Hope is wide awake now. The taxi driver announces their arrival and Hope quickly fumbles with cash in her wallet. She grabs Kelley’s hand, leading her up the steps and through the lobby. The elevator ride is incredibly long- Hope spends the entire time prying Kelley’s hands away. They really shouldn’t be left alone any longer.

 Hope finally opens Kelley’s hotel room. She sighs in relief. They had made it back without any problems (yet). She busies herself with tidying things around the room, telling Kelley, “Get ready for bed.”

 “Now you’re talking.”

 Hope freezes, deciding no response is the best response. She continues around the room until she hears Kelley. “A little help over here?”

 Hope turns around, and she realizes that maybe she shouldn’t have let Kelley get ready alone. She sighs, helping her take off her shirt. Hope tries not to look, hastily tripping over a pile of clothes on the way to the bathroom. She fills up a glass of water and rummages for a bottle of aspirin. She returns and Kelley still doesn’t have a shirt on. Go figure.

 “I can’t find a clean shirt.” (No shit, Kelley.) She looks at the items in Hope’s hands. “Are those for me?”

 “What?” Hope can only stare before blinking back to reality, to responsibility. “Oh yeah, yeah…it’ll help with the hangover in the morning.” She puts everything down on the nightstand.

 Kelley slowly climbs into bed. “Thanks for taking care of me, Hope.”

 “You can thank me when you have a shirt on.” Hope turns around again, looking for a clean shirt- or really, a dirty one would do at this point. She hears Kelley climb back out of bed, and she feels her dangerously close.

 “I don’t need a shirt.”

 “You—you’re going to get cold.” Hope stutters. The minute she turns around it’s over.

 “It feels pretty hot to me.” Kelley replies huskily, placing her hands on Hope’s hips. Now, she really can’t concentrate.

 “F-found it! I found it! Here!” Hope whips around, taking the shirt and pushing it against Kelley’s chest.

 Kelley doesn’t move, their faces only inches apart. She places a hand on top of Hope’s, still holding the article of clothing in place. “I’m not saying this because I’m drunk right now, but I love you, Hope.” She steals a quick glimpse at her lips. “Like a lot.”

 “I…I know you do.” Hope barely gets out, amidst a swirl of responsibility, excessive pining, and desire. Hope feels Kelley’s touch fueled by the alcohol coursing through her veins; it commands her to no control. All Hope can think about now is that Kelley’s body is pressed up against her own and that she wants her- sober.

 The t-shirt falls to the floor.

[periodicreviews]

RWBY Volume 4 Episode 6

This was probably the first episode this volume/season that I thought showed some promise. It wasn’t great in comparison to previous volumes, but it did what it needed to do and is perhaps the best episode of this season so far. The scenes with Weiss at the party continued to show the consequences of the fall of Vale and how at least one particular part of society is brushing it off. The fight between Tyrian, the crazy laughter guy, and RNJR got a little weird but for the most part everyone is acting consistent with what we know about the characters and that’s the bare minimum of what I’ve wanted this season.

Schnee Dinner Party

Amongst all of Team RWBY, Weiss seems to be acting in the most consistent manner with what we know about her character. She goes along initially with the plan to perform at her father’s benefit possibly as a means to keep the peace at home. The benefit concert will hopefully lead to restored faith in the Schnee Dust Company, continued profits for her father, and credit cards that don’t get declined for Weiss. Weiss asks in Episode 2 if he’s asking her or telling her to sing at the benefit and her father’s reply is that it would make a lot of people happy. She clearly is not excited to be a public relations tool, but thinks it’s best to play along for now.

Her song, not surprisingly claims that she won’t be held by riches, she won’t surrender, and that “this life is mine”. That all falls into line with what we’ve seen from Weiss before in “It’s My Turn” and her actions in general in the preceding episodes.

Volume 1 Episode 2

Blake: “The same company infamous for its controversial labor forces and questionable business partners.”

Weiss: “How dare you!”

Volume 4 Episode 6

Jacques: “We offer our Faunus the exact same wages as the rest of our mining staff. Their argument is completely invalid right out of the gate”

Weiss: *sighs*

We already knew that Weiss has grown, but this scene with her father definitely reinforces it.

When some random dude shows up and doesn’t have a clue that he’s at a benefit for the victims of the fall of Beacon, she understandably gets angry at him and tells him to leave. She seems to reach her “tipping point” to borrow the episode’s title, when she hears another couple talk about how Beacon deserved it because they didn’t beef up their defenses. She accidentally summons a creature that is then taken down by General Ironwood.

After presumably watching innocent civilians die, presumably because it’s not explicitly shown on screen, and having two other acquaintances die, any one would rightfully be upset with the implication that they deserved it. It’s also great that this emotional outburst caused her to trigger her summoning power because this is what we’ve seen on previous occasions of emotional distress.

The scene had a consistent tone and everyone acted consistent with their previous behavior. There were no jokes to break up the tension and indeed humor in this scene is portrayed negatively as Jacques jokes with the fellow guests and Weiss reacts with disgust.

I’m really looking forward to the next piece of Weiss’s story where her father either asks or forces her to control her emotional outbursts by training with her glyphs, which is alluded to in the opening. Jacques demanding it would fall in line with his desire to keep up appearances that everything is fine with the family and everything is fine with the company.

The show, in my opinion, still hasn’t dealt enough with the consequences of the fall of Beacon, both practically what it means for the rest of Remnant and emotionally for the characters. This scene is thankfully able to do both at the same time.

 Tyrian vs RNJR

Tyrian’s laughter was one of the first things that mildly annoyed me about the character and of course it’s full force here. Thankfully, it feels appropriate or at least is a little easier to understand why he is laughing, compared with Episode 5 where I wasn’t sure what the joke was.

At one point he laughs when Ruby hits Nora with a lightning shot because he thinks it’s going to be lot easier if the team is shooting each other.

Tyrian’s remark that “Well, you do interest me” while pointing to Jaune could be interpreted several ways. The most obvious being some connection to his aura potential or his connection to Pyrrha. But it’s also possible he’s referring to a romantic interest. Fans have wanted a confirmed LGBT character for some time, so they unfortunately may have to be satisfied for now with it being the craziest character we’ve seen yet. The creators have always said something like “It has to feel natural” and if this is what they feel is natural, I feel like they could’ve made any character gay. We don’t really know anything about the character so I don’t want to rush to any conclusions.

Tyrian vs RNJR Analysis

I almost felt like this battle was meant only to set up Qrow’s dramatic entrance with a triple replay of Tyrian’s attack being blocked by Qrow’s blade. Right before he shows up, the camera cuts to each of the fighters.

This seems like an odd choice of shots. From what I can see, besides maybe Ren and obviously Ruby, Nora and Jaune seem to be perfectly fine. Jaune is even standing straight up, almost as if he’s not hurt at all, and even closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch. So why are these conscious and seemingly healthy team members just looking on, or not looking in Jaune’s case, as this terrible thing is about to happen to their teammate?

I get that the purpose of the scene is to set up the reveal of Qrow and this happens all the time in shows and movies. Characters get beat up a bunch by the enemy and just when it looks like all hope is lost, the hero shows up to save the day. I’m totally fine with all of that, but it wasn’t executed as well as it could’ve been here.

Let’s look at the last set of hits that everyone takes besides Ruby.

Jaune appears to take a hit to his shield that pushes him back and then just stands there for the rest of the battle.

The last hit Nora takes is when Tyrian’s tail parries her hammer strike and she is thrown backwards. You can still see Jaune awkwardly standing there in the back.

Ren appears to take an attack from a phantom weapon as neither Tyrian’s fists, feet, or tail make physical contact with his body as far as I can tell. But even so he is thrown across the screen. This seems to be more of an animation error or I’m mistaking a reaction for him jumping away. It also seems like Nora and Ren are thrown in completely different directions, but because of the changing camera angles, I’m not going to try to argue that.

Ruby of course seems to struggle the most as she is the focus of the attack and the visual indication that her aura collapses clues us in that she is really in danger. 

But neither at the first break when Ruby shoots Nora, nor at the second break when Tyrian is revealed to be a Faunus, do the other members of RNJR appear to be in any sort of dire situation. Visibly there doesn’t seem to be any cosmetic effects on their models indicating cuts, which admittedly hasn’t been done much before. They also don’t make any indication verbally or non-verbally that they are tired, low on energy, or really struggling to keep up. I will admit they take most of the hits in this battle and Tyrian’s tail seems to be super strong and resistant to damage.

I’m not saying they have to dramatically break someone’s arm like when Vegeta loses horribly to Android 18 in DBZ. But they have to do something more than just show a character takes a few hits because we don’t have any on-screen health bars to look at.

The problem is that RWBY has done this well in previous episodes.

When Ruby fights Cinder in high heels, it’s pretty clear that she is struggling to keep up as she wobbles all over the place. Even before this fight, she is shown to be uncomfortable in high heels and that discomfort plays a role later in this battle.

During and after the fall of Beacon, Weiss and the others show signs of exhaustion after fighting for so long.

General Ironwood actually does sustain considerable cosmetic damage to his outfit.

The harder the struggle, the better the payoff when the characters get rescued. At least to me, it didn’t seem like they struggled enough, so when Qrow comes in, the moment isn’t as triumphant or emotional as it could’ve been. As usual maybe they didn’t have the time or budget to model torn outfits or animate the characters in a fatigued state, but this seems like a pretty basic fight aspect to slack off on. 

Interestingly, it appears the scene from the opening where Ruby is fighting Tyrian doesn’t appear in this fight, at least not the specific 360-kick parry against Ruby’s scythe. They usually try to reuse that animation so maybe the fight changed a lot from the original plan.

I get that this all sounds very picky. “Why are you going frame by frame looking for mistakes?” I didn’t explicitly go looking for issues, they really just stood out to me on my second viewing of this fight to look for screenshots of what I wanted. I’m not trying to hate and I understand animation is tough, but there’s substantial room for improvement and if we don’t acknowledge that, I feel like nothing is going to get better.

So it’s Episode 6 and this was the first decent episode. But to be at the halfway point and still be having these sort of technical issues? I’m not overly optimistic about the rest of this season. Is it going to take the whole volume for them to “find their footing” as fans keep saying? I kind of hoped they would’ve done that with the latter half of Volume 3 when they were essentially alone, but it seems they still need more time. It did take 4 episodes for me to warm up to Volume 2, but at the moment, I’m sticking around for Jeff Williams and Weiss.