#which means now i will be even more invisible for whoever knows how long

[limeleviathan]

Light, Dark and Loss

4.5K words There is a warning that should probably go here, but I also don't want to spoil the plot, so be warned

“Hah! Dodge this!” LEVIATHAN called, thrusting her blade at ARACHNID’s throat. “Will do!” they responded, parrying the swing with their daggers. “Oh yeah? Well how about…” she trailed off as ARACHNID faded into the background, going invisible once more. “Really? You’re pulling that one again?” She began swinging her swords wildly, desperately hoping they would make contact. They didn’t. “What now, huh?” ARACHNID said mockingly while placing their knives around LEVIATHAN’s neck before digging them in. She collapsed to the ground before disintegrating.

Moments later, they stood facing each other once more. “Well played,” LEVIATHAN said reluctantly, before shaking ARACHNID’s hand. “Anyway, how about we try and fight something bigger?” “Oh, you’re on. Whoever finishes it has the other do their chores for a week!” “Bring it on!”

LEVIATHAN created a holographic panel in front of her hand, glowing with the lights of countless buttons and symbols, the sheer number of them being enough to confuse even ARACHNID as to what did what. She opened another, smaller panel, used to control the simulation that the two sticks were currently in, floating a few centimetres in front of the first, with fewer buttons. As her fingers of energy typed something at an impossible pace, a large machine began appearing in front of her. That was the target of the race.

*

As I blinked the panels out of existence, I summoned my dual launcher to face the Brig that was just summoned. At 5 metres tall, the bipedal machine was fully covered in reinforced plating, and armed with many weapons capable of levelling buildings, which made it a worthy challenge for training, especially when you have the immortality of this realm. We’ll see if ARACHNID knows how to even defeat these things, since their weapons really don’t seem cut out for the task. At least, not the first part of it.

ARACHNID immediately went running in, daggers drawn, and slammed them full force into the leg of the Brig. While a torrent of purple light burst out momentarily, it quickly faded, leaving the machine unfazed. It raised its other leg, and sent it falling down toward ARACHNID. I took the chance to fire a grenade into the joint connecting leg to body. Direct hit. It staggered back before it could finish its attack, giving ARACHNID all the time they needed to get out of the way. As they returned to my position, we began talking tactics.

“Alright, stabbing it clearly isn’t the answer,” ARACHNID said annoyedly. “Correct,” I responded cheerfully. “You seem like you already know plenty about these things.” “Correct.” “So what are we meant to do against this?” “You weren’t watching what was going on around you, were you?” “I was bus-”

Before they could finish the sentence, I tackled them to the smooth ground of the artificial platforms we stood on. “Why did you-” they began, before the unmistakable whoosh of a missile went right through where they were standing only a moment earlier. “Ah. That’s why.”

*

I really need to do this more often, I thought to myself, as I lay in the field with the deep blue of Cerulean by my side, our hands interlocked. We were just going on a flight through the lands around the facility we called home, as we do nearly every day, when we saw the blots of colour over a beautiful green landscape that had to have been a flower field. We flew down, marvelled at the beauty of nature, before just laying down and enjoying each other's company in the long grass.

“Tanj, have I ever told you how grateful I am that you worked with me that one time?” she asked, her soft voice as loving as ever. “Oh, only like… every day since we started dating?” She giggled at my response. “Well, anyway, thank you so much for trying to get to know me when no one else did. It really means a lot to me.” As per usual when she said this, I could feel my face going even redder than normal. “Thank you,” I responded softly, before pulling her into a tight hug. I never want to let go of you, my dear. I love you.

*

As LEVIATHAN and ARACHNID stood against a wall that LEVIATHAN summoned for cover, covered in burns and bruises, they reevaluated their choices.

“I’ve died 5 times!” ARACHNID said angrily, “You’ve died 4! This is too much for just the two of us!” “Yeah I’ve realised that now!” LEVIATHAN snapped back, “We haven’t even taken it down to half durability!” “What do you mean we haven’t?!” “The front of it hasn’t even opened yet! These things aren’t just something I just thought up, I used an enemy from Destiny because I thought it would be hard! I didn’t think it would be this hard!” “Well why didn’t you mention that it was going to work like this?! I don’t have the weapons to deal with this kind of armour, you could have at least let me know!” “In a real situation like this we wouldn’t always know what works and what doesn’t, I thought you figured out that you weren’t doing anything to it!” “Well can’t you just get rid of it?! This is your simulation, right?!” “Yeah, give me a moment!”

She opened her simulation control panel once more, to delete the Brig so they wouldn’t have to keep fighting it. As she pressed the delete button, though, nothing happened. The Brig remained, still relentlessly attacking the cover the two sticks sat behind. She began to panic, rapidly pressing the button again and again. 

*

Suddenly, the world around us began to tremble, before reaching a full, violent earthquake. Cracks began forming in the air, and the Brig was pulled into one, causing a violent pulse of energy to erupt from where it vanished. That energy shattered the floor, and we began to fall. I tried desperately to create a portal to catch ARACHNID, but they would not remain open for more than a moment before shattering.

“I need you to slow your fall!” I called out, hoping they would hear me over the tremors. “I can’t hold a portal open for long enough without catching up to you!” Luckily, they heard, and spread their arms to slow their descent. I caught up to them, and grabbed on. “Alright, hold on tight.” I pulled them close and we began to skydive together, until I opened a portal beneath us, returning us to the real world.

*

Suddenly, an ear-splitting crack sounded through the valley in which me and Tangelo lay. She quickly released me and jumped up, her wing blades moving into a position where they could attack whatever approached. I jumped up too, unfortunately unarmed, as my sword was still in the facility. We never took our weapons with us on trips like this, since we didn’t think we’d need them.

As I turned, I saw a blinding source of light for just a moment, before it imploded, releasing a pulse of energy that knocked the wind out of me. I lay there, stunned, when I heard what sounded like a gasp of horror. When I finally caught my breath, I looked up to see a towering machine, completely encased in tough-looking metal. I wished I had my sword.

It looked to have multiple guns and cannons mounted on it, which, honestly, was really terrifying to witness. Two of the guns began glowing, and before I could regain enough breath to roll out of the way, they fired. I thought that was it for me, until Tangelo grabbed me and took to the air, faster than she ever had before. 

*

That was way too close, I could have lost her! I thought, flying as fast as I possibly could away from that mechanical… thing. Right as I thought I was out of range, a bolt of energy hit my left wing, and my brain shot into panic. All stability was gone, even shifting the working wing to the middle gave little more control than before, simply stopping the spiral. In my panic, I almost dropped Cerulean, which would have been catastrophic. I repositioned, and held her tight to lessen the impact when we made contact with the ground.

Unfortunately, that repositioning left us open once more, and another bolt struck her right in the chest. “CERULEAN!” I yelled in panic. “Just hold on, stay with me!” In her barely conscious state, she looked up at me and groaned in pain. She was growing pale, and her breathing was ragged. No. No! She will not die in my arms! I glided down toward a tree so that we could have cover while I tried to tend to her wounds. I’m not losing you! Hold on! Please!

*

The portal from the simulation opened in the skies above the fields where the Brig was walking slowly towards a distant patch of trees. A blur of green and purple shot out of it, high into the sky, before their momentum ran out and they began their descent once more. ARACHNID and LEVIATHAN both grappled in the air to swing back down to the ground safely, although not exactly smoothly.

“Did you see them while we flew upward?” LEVIATHAN asked, concerned. “Who?” ARACHNID responded, confused. “AVIAN and Cerulean! It looked like they were flying past, but I think the Brig hit them. They looked like they lost control, spiralling to the ground.” “A Brig? Is that what that robot thing is called?” “Yep. But that’s not important right now. We need to get to the others before the Brig does. I don’t have the strength for any more portals right now after everything that happened in the simulation.” “Grappling it is. Let’s go!”

*

All I could see was the blurred glow from Tangelo’s face, dark at the edges in my battle for consciousness. The sharp, burning pain in my chest would not go away, and I would have screamed in pain if breathing wasn’t complete agony. I seemed to be on solid ground, and my hearing was finally returning, if dulled.

“... with me. Don’t… don’t leave me! Please!” That was Tangelo’s voice, and I noticed her face catching more light than normal. Wait… those were tears. She was sobbing. I tried to talk to her, but my words came out as a weak groan. She knelt over me, hugging with as much strength as she could without intensifying the pain. I felt my consciousness slipping, and I grabbed on as tight as I could. I refused to abandon her like this. Unfortunately, though, it was not enough. I felt my eyes shut, and then… nothing.

*

As me and ARACHNID swung through the air, we heard a cry of anguish echo throughout the field. That voice was unmistakably AVIAN, but I couldn’t make out any of the words at this distance. However, ARACHNID could. They turned to me in horror.

“She… she…” they said, voice pained for whatever reason, “she was calling out Cerulean’s name, as though something had happened. Ignore the Brig, go over it, whatever, but we need to get there now!”

Reinvigorated with rage and fear, I focused the last of my strength into forming a portal for us to get to those two as fast as possible. As we stumbled through the other side, I saw AVIAN crouched over Cerulean, sobbing harder than she ever had in her life. She didn’t even hear us walking up to her. She was more focused than ever. Suddenly, she let out another sob of a scream, which shocked both of us.

“Something happened,” I told ARACHNID, terrified, “and I don’t like it already.”

*

I felt as though all meaning had been ripped from my life in an instant. As I lay over Cerulean’s lifeless body, my head was vacant of all thoughts except rage and despair. An uncontrollable stream of tears ran from my eyes, likely glowing with immense rage. I finally collapsed over her, and just sobbed. It seemed like hours that I just lay on her, tears flowing at a rate I never believed possible. Finally, when I ran out of tears to cry, I stood up, hands clenched in rage, grabbing my broken wing blades as swords. I was going to kill this machine if it was the last thing I did!

“AVIAN!” I heard LEVIATHAN’s voice call from behind me, “what’s wrong? We heard you scream.” “Cerulean…” I sobbed, voice breaking, yet filled with fury. It was a miracle anything intelligible came out. “She’s… she… I… that thing… I am going to avenge her!” LEVIATHAN looked at ARACHNID, face filled with fear. “No… is she…” she started sobbing too. ARACHNID walked over to her body. “Yeah…” they said, worriedly. Nothing ever seemed to faze them, so that made the situation seem even more tense. “She’s… she’s dead.”

The silence that overcame the group was deafening. Next thing I knew, LEVIATHAN had her launcher out and ARACHNID was holding their daggers so tightly that the hilts seemed like they should have been crushed. We were ready. Or so we thought.

*

I was floating around in complete darkness, yet blinding light at the same time. I could see partially through to the real world, yet could do nothing about anything. I saw Tangelo, face full of tears, twisted with rage at my death. Lime was the same, launcher ready and loaded, gripping the trigger tightly. When did she get here? ARACHNID stood next to my body, looking tense. They never looked tense. 

Suddenly, as I blinked, strange balls of some kind of energy began to form in the clearing, one a pale yellow and consisting of countless strands, the other a light purple, pulsing in a regular pattern. Everyone turned to look at them, me included. Tangelo and ARACHNID seemed confused, but shocked regardless. Lime, though… she seemed terrified, yet her face still held as much rage as before, if not more. She looked at the balls in disbelief, and no one noticed my body beginning to lift off the ground.

*

No… there was no way… I thought that they had abandoned me, months ago. Lux and Tenebris, who left me on my own after I replaced my charred limbs with the cybernetics I wore now. They had some motive here, they never do anything without a reason. I was only granted their powers when I had proven myself, and then they took it away. Maybe it was something to do with Cerulean…

As I looked over to her body, I saw that it was absolutely something to do with Cerulean. Her body was floating a metre off the ground, yet her eyes still remained closed. Everyone else began to notice, and AVIAN looked in horror. She likely thought that they intended to attack Cerulean’s body in some way. I knew better, though, and held her back before she could even consider anything. And as I did that, torrents of Light and Darkness erupted from the spirits, as their power was transferred to Cerulean’s body. AVIAN screamed, and I hugged her. “Trust the process,” I told her, trying to reassure her.

*

As the balls of energy suddenly erupted into my corpse, I felt… something… pulling me back, into a vortex. I tried to fight it as best I could, knowing that if I were to fall into it, I would likely never see my friends again. I mean, that was wrong, but you don’t often think all that rationally after being literally killed. Anyway, I tried to fight it, but it was too strong, and I fell into the blinding light, the pitch darkness…

And then my eyes shot open, looking straight up into the leaves of the tree above me. I tried to move, but something was stopping me. I tried to turn my head, but nothing happened. It was as though I was merely a spectator in my own body, which was being controlled by something else. It was then that I heard the voices.

“They may have abandoned you…” an unfamiliar voice whispered in the back of my mind, not simply my thoughts. “They did not abandon me,” I thought back at it, “they did all that they could, they just didn’t have the power they needed.” “Well…” another voice whispered, “we can give you all the power you desire. You have been deemed worthy of the Light.” “And with training…” the first voice added, “you will become far stronger than those you choose to surround yourself with. You have been deemed worthy of the Darkness.”

*

As LEVIATHAN restrained me, I tried to run back over to Cerulean. I don’t know what that energy is doing to her body, but I was not going to let it defile her memory. She will be buried as is, it’s what she would have wanted. I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought I’d grow old with her… she was still so young… I should have done more for her… it should have been me… it should have been me…

“Lime, let me go! That energy is going to… I’m not sure what it’s going to do, but it can’t be good!” “That’s where you’re wrong, Tangelo. What Cerulean is going through right now… it happened to me too. Those spirits used to inhabit my mind and empower me through their abilities. Cerulean is going to be okay.” “Wait, she’s… she’s going to come back? That’s not possible! She died!” “Yes, she did. And she will be back. As I said: trust the process.”

Before I had the time to properly process everything that happened, Cerulean’s eyes shot open, although glowing with the same colours as those spirits as LEVIATHAN called them. I broke free and ran over to hug her.

“Tangelo, no! She’s not herself right now, wait!”

I ignored LEVIATHAN’s words, and kept going.

“Cerulean! You’re back!” “Silence, bird!” she commanded, voice filled with an uncharacteristic rage, and echoing across the field. I was flung backward by a gust of wind to the rest of the group, and ended up face down on the ground. “If you want your girlfriend safe, you need to let us deal with this!” “Tangelo, I told you not to do that, and that’s why!” LEVIATHAN said, exasperated.

I lay there, stunned, terrified that she had come back wrong. She seemed to be possessed in some way. I hope she was just possessed.

“I feel like I owe you a bit of an explanation here,” LEVIATHAN said compassionately. I rolled over to listen. “Those spirits are the incarnations of Light and Darkness, forces that make up the very fabric of reality. Their names are Lux and Tenebris, the Latin words for what they represent. If they deem someone worthy, they then go to inhabit that person’s mind, and that can also revive a person if they are dead at the time, which is what happened here. I’ll explain everything else when Cerulean is properly back.” “How do you know all this?” I asked. “Personal experience,” she laughed.

*

The conversation I overheard between Lime and Tangelo raised many questions. I couldn’t turn to listen to them, but I heard enough. Lux and Tenebris, Light and Darkness. I wondered if I would have powers of my own, how different they would be to the Subjects. I wasn’t sure if I would even get my own body back. I really hoped I would, I longed to hug Tangelo once again, tell her that I was here and alright. Tell her that it wasn’t her fault, since I was right about my guess that she blamed herself.

There wasn’t time for that, though. The spirits in control of my body turned towards that machine from earlier, as it was now only about 30 metres away from the patch of trees. For the first time, I noticed the intense flow of energy through my body, even if I wasn’t in control. Suddenly, I felt that flow intensify, as though a floodgate had just opened. I felt like I held the power to reshape reality itself. In fact, it turned out that I did hold that much power, if not in the way that I originally  imagined.

Then my hosts raised my arm and pointed my palm at the machine.

*

As the three sticks watched their friend who had been dead a few minutes prior face down the machine that had injured or killed every one of them, they held their breath without even noticing. As Cerulean raised her palm towards the machine, the flows of Light and Darkness surrounding her intensified, flowing towards her hand. LEVIATHAN gasped, AVIAN watched in awe and fear, and ARACHNID stood there, wondering how this would end.

As each flow reached Cerulean’s wrist, it flowed inwards, until a torrent of intertwined Fire and Ice, Lightning and Water, even Earth and Air, erupted outward, straight toward the Brig. The torrent split near its target, striking every part that wasn’t armoured, with the Lightning arcing across the machine’s entire chassis. Very quickly, the already partially damaged machine suffered an internal explosion, and the armour covering the main body was blasted off, sent flying towards the observers. LEVIATHAN and ARACHNID wove barriers to protect both themselves and the defenceless AVIAN.

With the Brig’s armour gone, the beam refocused, becoming one singular torrent, striking the exposed circuitry previously covered by the plating that was just sent flying.

*

I stared at the spectacle that unfolded before my eyes. Even at my strongest point, I could not have hoped to channel this much power at once. She would likely become the strongest out of us four, and that's before I even give her my old focus. However, I have no way of telling how powerful she can be on her own until she is in control of her own body once again. In the meantime, it’s best that we let her focus. We can celebrate her return once the danger has been dealt with. With how it’s going, that won’t be long.

*

The power Cerulean held in her hands was shocking. I’d often had to be the one protecting my girlfriend from harm, since she had no augmentations for additional combat capabilities besides the Blinking allowed by her sword, but now, she may need to protect me. An interesting shift of balance indeed. I really hope she’s just being possessed right now, since if this is her permanent state, then we may never truly get her back.

*

I couldn’t believe my own eyes. I may not be controlling this power myself, but if this is what I’m capable of with these spirits, then this could be a massive change to… everything, really. It’s always been so cool seeing the powers that everyone else holds at their fingertips, and soon I may learn what it’s like to hold power like that. But most importantly, I’m alive again. I get to feel the air against my skin, the sun on my cheek, and most importantly, the embrace of Tangelo. 

With a final pulse of energy, the machine exploded, and the flow of energy was abruptly cut off. I fell to the ground, and collapsed. Moments later, I turned over to see Tangelo, Lime and ARACHNID all standing over me. As I saw them, they all had a realisation of some kind and immediately ran to hug me and pick me up. I then realised that I was in control of my own body once more. I checked where I had been shot earlier, and the wound was gone without a trace.

“Cerulean!” Tangelo exclaimed, hugging me tighter than she ever had, “I thought you were dead! You’re back! You’re okay!” “Glad you’re back with us,” ARACHNID added, “I don’t know how I would handle losing another person this close to me.” “It seems like I have a lot to teach you, Cerulean,” Lime said, “but first, we need to celebrate your return! I have something to give you.” Before I could even say anything, she went through a portal and vanished. “It’s so good to be back, guys,” I said, starting to tear up, “I thought I would be gone without saying goodbye for a while there. I’m so glad I get to be with you guys again.” “I’ll…” ARACHNID began, awkwardly, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Come back when you are done.” They began to swing away, but Tangelo stopped them. “My wings are damaged. I can’t fly. Can you get Lime to open a portal back here in five minutes? We need a little time.” “Sure thing.” And with that, they began to swing away.

*

As me and Cerulean stood there, reunited at last, we refused to leave each other’s embrace. We just stayed there, hugging tighter than we ever have, each so glad to have the other back that we could barely think straight. I mean, we rarely think straight around each other. Usually we thought pretty gay. After a few minutes, Cerulean collapsed, and I had to pick her up.

“That display was tough work, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, even though I didn’t do a single thing myself. It’s actually a little scary, not having any control over your own body as that much energy flows through it.” “Well, it’s done for now. You’re here, I’m here, and that’s all that matters right now.”

*

After I finally found my old Elemental Glaive, I waited a few more minutes before returning for AVIAN and Cerulean, since they wanted a moment alone. Eventually, I opened the portal to where I left, and saw the two still hugging, but with Cerulean seeming to have little energy left.

“Hey, you two,” I called to them, “you’ve had the time you requested, and I have something I need to give Cerulean. Let's go home.” “Alright, coming!” AVIAN called back, some of her usual cheerfulness returning to her. She carried a tired Cerulean through the portal with her, and we ended up in the facility’s living quarters. “Cerulean, I have something that I used all the time back when I wielded Light and Darkness rather than the energy I use today. I had just kept it as a souvenir until now, but I think you’ll find a better use with your new powers.” 

As AVIAN put her down, I handed her the Elemental Glaive, a double-headed spear constructed to channel both Light and Darkness simultaneously. One end was the same pale yellow of the light of Lux, while the other was the same light purple as the darkness of Tenebris. As Cerulean picked it up, it began to glow with reawakened energy, before returning to the slight glow it always held when I wielded it back in the day.

“This is not a power you will easily be able to learn on your own,” I began to explain, “but you are not in a position to learn right now. Get some rest, and when you want to, come talk to me. I’ll be able to teach you how to wield your new power as best you can.”

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: SpyDad - New Love Interest

Summary: I wanted to request a DadSpy when he finds out that Scout was dating and goes to threaten his team (assuming that his son was dating one of them), but it turns out Scout was dating one of the BLU members when Spy sees his son kissing a BLU member (it can be which Merc you want).

~

Scout finally having moved on from pursuing Miss Pauling was good news. Spy was proud of him for that. Enough so that for a while he’d missed what had to have been the final push in that direction; Scout had found a new love interest. Someone who presumably returned his affections based off the multiple time’s he’d sneakily – though not quite sneakily enough to get past Spy indefinitely – bought romance leaning items from the store, some of which indicated a sexual component to the relationship.

Now, Spy didn’t have an issue with Scout dating or having sex with whoever he wanted to. However, the lengths he went to to keep his relationship secret was a bit worrying, especially with how blatant he’d been about his desire for a relationship with Miss Pauling and how blatant he usually was in general. It could of course be that this was Scout’s first relationship with another man and that made him nervous. But after going to the bar with the rest of the team as many times as he had it would’ve been impossible for even him to miss that none of them were completely straight and thus he should know that no judgment would be leveled at him. So his extreme caution to the point of actually being able to keep it a secret from Spy for as long as he had felt wrong.

Which didn’t necessarily mean for sure that Scout’s partner was abusing or manipulating him in any way but it could. And that was enough for Spy to need to get to the bottom of it. Not that he wouldn’t have investigated no matter what, letting secrets lie went against his nature. When he found out who they were, he was going to make damn sure they knew what would happen if they did harm Scout.

Finding out quickly proved to be easier said than done. No one else seemed to be acting strange or giving Scout any more or less attention than usual. And Scout hung out with everyone seemingly about as often as he always had. His interactions with them seemed largely the same was well. The two of them were doing a really good job of being casual about it when around everyone else. Impressive but annoying.

Eventually Spy was almost forced to drop subtlety and just stalk Scout until he went to see his lover. An exhausting task given Scout’s penchant for going on runs at random times of the day and sprinting all over the battlefield. In addition, doing so was also only a few steps removed from brute forcing the issue like some kind of inexperienced fool, making him much more likely to be caught at it. But when all else failed, one did what they had to.

For the first couple days of this seemed futile too but then they had battle. Not even an hour in Scout broke off from the rest of the team. Far from unusual but, ignoring his own duties, Spy followed anyway. He was barely able to keep up and struggled to keep the invis-watch charged enough to allow him to do so while remaining invisible.

Spy knew of all the substantial secret areas around Sunshine and Scout seemed to be heading for one of them. A small out of the way building with what looked like all the other locked metal sliding doors but actually just needed a little elbow grease to lift open. As soon as Scout reached it, he paused to glance around before sneaking in, closing the door behind him. Not giving Spy anywhere even close to enough time or space to sneak in with him. Damn it!

That left Spy with two options; give himself away by opening the door – there was no way that wouldn’t go unnoticed – or wait around out here to see who eventually stepped out with Scout or who else snuck in if the other hadn’t yet. The latter was certainly wiser but he was tired of this game. And while it wasn’t likely, there might be a back way out that Scout was even now sneaking through. If so, Spy would lose him for sure, prolonging this whole thing even more.

With a sigh, he stepped forward and bent down to open the door. Knowing that at least one armed person was inside though, he kept to the side, making it a bit more difficult to open but he managed.

Inside was of course Scout, pointing his scattergun at the door. Next to him was… the BLU Sniper, also pointing his gun at the open door. Not the man Spy had expected Scout to be dating in the least.

“Well, I suppose this explains why you were being so secretive,” he said as he disengaged his cloak.

Scout lowered his gun. “What the hell, Spy? Why are you here? Did you follow me?”

“Yes because I was curious.” And worried but they didn’t need to know that. “Finding out you’re dating the enemy is… interesting to say the least.”

Sniper had lowered his gun a little but now raised it again, no doubt aiming at Spy’s head through the scope. Not a comfortable position to be in but Spy wasn’t about to let that show in his stance. “That going to be a problem?”

“Ah, c’mon Snipes,” Scout interrupted before Spy could even try to respond, “at least try to deny it.”

“Oh… uh, right. Sorry, mate.”

“No. There’d be no use trying to lie about it. You’ve been caught basically red handed. You did do a very good job of keeping it secret though, congrats.” Spy was proud to see Scout being so sneaky, especially since it didn’t seem to be out of fear or shame but instead because it was the wise thing to do. “Keep that up. You know what the Admin will do if she finds out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Scout said. “Now fuck off. We were kinda trying do something here before you barged in like the sneaky rat bastard you are.”

As annoying as being talked to like that was, Spy didn’t particularly care to stick around longer. He didn’t approve of Scout’s chosen partner for multiple reasons but as long as Scout wasn’t being abused that wasn’t his call to make. Expressing his disapproval would only lead to uncomfortable questions about why he cared so much. “Very well. Before I go however, I will assure you that your secret is safe with me.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped back and pulled the door back down, letting it fall the rest of the way closed with a clatter.

He moved a fair distance away and pulled out a cigarette – if anyone asked, he’d come out here for a smoke break. He would have to keep an eye out to make sure no one else found out about Scout and the BLU Sniper and to make sure the BLU Sniper wasn’t using Scout for any reason related to the war effort and/or personal gain. But secretly watching out for Scout was something Spy had been doing for years now so nothing new there.

[triskhellion]

Sunday Snippet

tagged by @dear-massacre

from Honey Wine

The Compact had been between shifters, magic users, the fae, and the majority of the Hunter clans. It was the result of years of determined negotiation and sacrifice, including numerous attempted and successful assassinations by those who wanted the bloodshed to continue. But in the end the supernatural beings came together and presented a united front to the Hunters, most of whom chose to change their ways and survive. 

As of 23 years ago, the days of all-out, species or classification based violence which had embroiled countless generations and decimated races, clans, covens and so on, were over. Coyotes vs. wolves. Fae vs. kitsune. Druids vs. witches. Etc. The myriad and ever changing combinations of belligerents that existed over the years. And of course Hunters vs. them all. 

It didn’t mean that no one could ever act against a member of another group (there was an entire section on justifiable force,) but that any such conflicts were to be kept to a personal level and were heavily frowned upon unless for a very good reason. There was a council with representatives from each people that oversaw the handling of rogues.

And so the Argents had ostensibly become upstanding, non-homicidal citizens, never mind that such hateful attitudes were extremely unlikely to simply just disappear. Gerard’s daughter had seemed more than willing to accept a courtship with her newly of age 16 year old son and that had been enough for the great Alpha Hale. Apparently, the bar for concern about his well-being had been physical violence and it turned out that they’d been wrong in that assessment too. Not that they had taken his word for it. 

Derek clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, letting out an involuntary whimper-growl at the painful memories.  

“Who goes there?” a drawling and amused male voice called out from nearby, snapping him back to the present.

Derek startled and jumped up, spinning around to look for its source. How did he get that close to someone without noticing?

Searching intently with his more heightened senses he soon realized that he still couldn’t hear their heartbeat and breathing or scent them in the air, which could only mean one thing: magic. Of what kind he had no idea. 

Cautiously, he crept closer to what he figured was the one place within range that a person could remain unseen. Assuming they weren’t also invisible somehow. Derek shivered at the thought, looking around anxiously as if that would do any good were that the case and feeling even more vulnerable. 

Neither magic wielding humans nor the various fae had given him or his family any real trouble before, but he was out here alone and one could never know. The fae in particular often had a mischievous streak and he was currently outside of the considerable stretch of the Preserve that was part of the Hale territory. 

Knowing that whoever it was likely already had the upper hand and could attack him if they wanted to he supposed he might as well try to face the being that he was dealing with. When he peeked around the other side of a large, uneven tree stump he saw what appeared to be a brunet young man in his late teens, maybe 20, sitting sideways and half sprawled across the seat — no, throne — that had been carved into where the trunk had broken and fallen over some time ago. His head was resting against the back of the recess, long-lashed eyelids closed above an upturned nose and cupid’s bow lips. An open flask of some fruit flavored alcohol was held loosely by the slender fingers at the end of a dangling arm.

Derek tried not to make a sound, but the magical youth knew that he was there, staring.

“Hi,” came that syrupy voice again, tousle-haired head abruptly turning to look straight at him with a raised eyebrow and an impish smirk. His laughing eyes were the color of amber honey. 

“Now I know there aren’t any regular wolves around here, so unless you’ve escaped from a sanctuary or some wannabe House Stark super fan somewhere — and are unusually chill in the presence of strangers — I’m going to assume you’re a Were.”

Derek nodded in confirmation and the unknown supernatural’s grin widened. He was suddenly glad that he’d gone out in his wolf form because otherwise he was sure he’d be blushing under the inquisitive gaze. Well, visibly blushing. The thought of shifting now and standing naked in front of the attractive and self-assured young man on his forest throne only made Derek even more flustered.

Consider yourself tagged if you want to play along!

[donnerpartyofone]

Have you ever read any of Grant Morrison's Doom Patrol comic book stuff? I think it's so weird and overlooked

Is it overlooked? Isn't there a recent TV adaptation of it? I'd agree that it's not as big as Avengers or whatever, but frankly anything that's *smart* tends to be a little more niche and not-for-everybody, and that kind of makes it special, not to be such a snob. But no, I never read it, it's a personal failing. My exposure to the British Invasion is kind of spotty to be honest; I read a lot of Preacher and Transmetropolitan, not very much Hellblazer for some reason, I forget what else. I read From Hell and V and Watchmen, naturally, but I never forgave Alan Moore for Lost Girls, what an obnoxious piece of shit! The major Grant Morrison title I read (setting aside little random things like We3 and some Seven Soldiers stuff) was The Invisibles, which I was really hot and cold on. It's a great repository for Morrison's amateur pop culture scholarship and it is written with a kind of infectious passion, but I felt like if the premise is "the stifling forces of order and conformity vs. the liberating forces of rebellion and anarchy", that gets kind of sabotaged by the fact that the chaos agents still have to be represented as cliches and stereotypes for them to be legible to the reader. Like a true non-conformist wouldn't just look exactly like Johnny Rotten or whoever, a real rebel wouldn't be so straight-from-central-casting. So there's kind of a big flaw in the basic conceit, because in order to have archetypal resonance, you have to default to preordained cookie cutter images (in this case of flappers and mods and harlequins and stuff), which is the opposite of the whole idea of the winds of change and the triumph of individuality and everything.

I'm sorry, this is totally not what you asked, I'm just riffing now. I have every reason to believe Doom Patrol is really great! Maybe I'll get around to it some day, but I haven't read a superhero comic in a long time. The last time I read them really devotedly was in a time before irony, to be frank, and sometimes I find modern titles a little too *knowing*, like a little too smug and proudly self-aware at the expense of having an engrossing narrative with convincing characters. (And if the only alternative is soapy fetishistic bullshit of the Joss Whedon variety then I am REALLY not about it) It's funny because I have this memory of reading Grant Morrison's Marvel Boy miniseries that was drawn by J.G. Jones when it first came out and I was a teenager, and it blew my mind so hard! I thought Jones was everything, I would have done anything to be able to draw like him, and it didn't hurt that I knew somebody who was friends with him and I got to visit his studio once and it was probably pretty obvious that I immediately fell in love with him. But that Marvel Boy series had a bit of a meta, post-modern quality to it, which at the time wasn't so common and I found it really excitingly intelligent--so I raved about it to this friend of mine, one of my best friends in high school who was slightly older and who I looked up to in some ways, and he just sneered and spat something about how it's fucked up that comics aren't this innocent thing for kids anymore, and he refused to do more than glance at the pages of this very slick, adult book that I loved and wanted to share with him. And I mean now that everything feels like its saturated with this juvenile sense of irony, I kind of get where he was coming from! Even though I still think he was being a dick to me at the time, because in hindsight I've realized how our friendship was a total one-way street and he would say this stuff to me about how I was "still a mystery" to him and he'd make it sound like he was anxious to get to know the Real Me, but if I let him in on anything he didn't directly relate to in a personal way then he wouldn't even tolerate a conversation about it. Ahem. This is also not part of your question at all. But now you know! My sincerest apologies.

[lunarscaled]

“Is there anyone catching your fancy, here?” Wyll grins, conspiratorially, ever more conspicuous as he leans towards them. “You know, when I was your age, I was quite the talk of the town in the Upper City. My Father had to drag me away from the Ballrooms after dancing all night long with my many lucky suitors. I daresay whoever catches your eye tonight will be just as lucky.” (Wyll, you’re only six years years older than Lyric, maybe five, maybe even four soon, please calm down.)

-> They were normally more perceptive of their surroundings than this. They only see the red and glitz of his coat out of the corner of their eye a moment before he speaks, and somehow his voice still jolts them just a little---a brief tensing of their shoulders like they didn't expect anyone to talk to them. ( they didn't. they guessed a skirt of roses was suitable if they were being a wallflower. ) His voice has the lilt of someone who is in their element amount the tittering guests, tables of food and glowing lights, which Lyric cannot empathize with at all. Their skin feels like it's prickled with needles at the thought of such a crowd, and they're sure it shows in their somber expression as they keep their arms crossed over their chest and close to the wall. Was that why he approached them? Did he think they were holding out for someone particular and needed a hand? They couldn't think of a single specific face they had seen all night that hadn't become a blur.

"...have you said that to everyone you've come across, or am I particularly pitiable?"

-> There is less restraint to their bite than they wanted; he only means well. Almost as soon as it has been said, their face scrunches and their mouth flatlines as they turn their head away from him, their shoulders hunching up just a bit closer to their ears, white fur cloak and silver armor hiding them in the much the same way their normal clothes so. ( as if they could catch anyone's eye. as if they could do anything but stand and want for things at a distance, never to achieve them. a never-to-be-fulfilled wish. )

"---I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I just don't think I'm someone who is fit for this kind of thing. I don't dance. I don't know how, even if I did, and I'd probably kill myself in these shoes."

-> They try to smooth out their anxiety and the folds of their skirt and succeed in neither; they wish they still had their Invisibility Cloak. At least then they wouldn't look like a buzzkill standing around with a vaguely irritable and despondent look on their face. Lyric gestures with one hand towards the twirling, rhythmic crowd in an attempt to be equally as supportive of Wyll's purported ballroom success as a young man. But their enthusiasm lacks and does not reflect the same cheeky charm.

"You should dance, if you enjoyed it so much. I'm sure the Blade of Frontiers will have no lack of suitors and dance partners even now."

[askyuuandco]

‘To whom it may concern….

I don’t know if this letter will reach anyone. Hell, I doubt it CAN reach anyone, considering life goes on as normal. But if you’ve found this letter, it means that….I’m going to do something drastic. I don’t know how long it’s been since….well, I’d rather not speak about it. Although I’ve people who care for me, and friends that I treat like sisters, and….I believe it to be unrequited love from….certain boys who’ll never know the choking and slow-cracking in my heart. But looking back on my actions, I always end up sticking my nose into everyone’s business. And through my actions as a reaction, I did something that made everyone forget a certain person who affected their lives. These are traits I will take with me to the grave. No one needs to worry, I won’t bother anyone ever again. To my closest comrades, you’ve always been there for me and have had my back in times of peril. But now you must carry on into a better future. To my band of sisters, We will always remain as A family, and I leave whatever belongings I have left in this world for you to possess. And to the boys I loved before….I still love you. But there are other people out there who will love you more than I ever could…..and lastly: please take care of Grim. Whoever so wishes.

Farewell,

A broken-hearted and invisible girl.

P.S. no one will even know this but…..forgive me…..and goodbye….Yuu…..’

The figure finished the letter and laid the pen down gently, standing and pushing their chair back from the desk. They proceeded to fold the letter perfectly into thirds and tape it shut. They placed a small golden pendant on top of the letter, and shoved the chair into their desk neatly and quietly. With the clothes on their back and a black cloak they threw on, the hood up concealing their identity. They look up and out the window. A black sky with a full moon painted the sky. Their eyes turn to the clock. The big hand and small hand met together at the 12. The midnight hour. They nod.

Approaching the window, they unlatch the door with quiet and graceness, carefully place one foot onto the railing, then the other, squatting to keep balance. They leapt off the railing and flew down to the grassy floor of the Ramshackle grounds. Looking back up to the window. They wave their fingers and forced the window to close silently. They stand, getting their bearings together before running around towards the front of the dorm, retreating down the hill and past the barren tree, hopping over the iron fence and levitate off the ground, flying past the forest, the greenhouse, the mirror Hall and the Mystery shop, and soon end up at the front gates. They land softly onto the cobble ground and look back over their shoulder one last time to see Main Street and the giant school towering in the distance. They let out an inaudible sigh, turning forward once again and proceeded to unlock the school with a spell. The lock effortlessly clicked open and fell with a subtle flatter. The iron gate squeaked as it was pushed open, but the figure slips out between an opening big enough for them to get through and shut the gate quickly, magically locking it once more. Now outside the school, they look through the bars of the gate and nod towards the college with ease. Then turn forward and ran down the dirt road to the drawbridge, which would lead to the town on the Sage Island. But they vaulted over the gap between the plateaus and landing on the other side, they proceeded into the night without turning back.

'well, shit...wasn't expecting her to run away.'

[monster-fricker]

Chapter 8: Invisible Ink and Boxing Gloves

Male Orc (He/Him pronouns) x Female Human Reader (She/Her pronouns) - Flirty, but SFW

- It's been a busy few days, so I apologize for the delayed addition. Hope you enjoy the chapter even though it's short. -

After breakfast, Oluan returned the call he had missed. You could hear Rasdane's boisterous voice on the other end, loud enough that you could almost make out the words, even across the room. Oluan held the phone a few inches from his ear to ease the volume.

"No, no, I'm okay. I was just-" His gaze lingered on you, smirking, "-preoccupied." And boy, did you both enjoy every preoccupied minute, evidenced by the mutual soreness and long, thorough showers. Right now, the two of you were comfortably lounging in the living room, you on the sofa and him at his desk, bellies full of waffles.

"So, what's u- Yes, she's here with me, I- alright, yeah, hold on." Watching him have a conversion with Rasdane was amusing. Their personalities could not be more different, and yet there was a sweet familiarity between them, a genuine fondness. Even when he rolled his eyes in annoyance, you could tell he didn't mean it.

"Rasdane says hi," Oluan informed you, then turned his attention back to the minotaur. "No, I'm not going to repeat it in a more excited voice... Rasdane, she knows you were happy when you said it, I-... What do you mean I always sound grumpy?"

"Hi, Rasdane," you cried, laughing uncontrollably at the orc's frustrating phone call. Oluan shot you a scowl, which only served to make you laugh harder.

"Alright, did you hear her?... Yes, she is lovely, thank you... yeah, I'll tell her..." He pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose and huffed. "Rasdane, what is it I can help you with?" This seemed to do the trick, as he swiftly turned to his desk, scribbling down notes. You slipped from the room to give him a little privacy and poured yourself another cup of coffee. You knew you'd have to go home soon. The prospect of saying goodbye left a strange knot in your chest. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you told yourself, but you were pretty sure whoever came up with that saying was an asshole. You decided to clean the syrup stained dishes left on the counter.

"You don't have to do that, you know." Uluan's voice cooed behind you, his muscular green arms sliding around your waist. If he had not chosen to be a writer, he could have been a professional hugger. Or kisser. Or waffle maker. A professional hugging, kissing, waffle making orc. Maybe that was an untapped market.

"How is Rasdane?"

Oluan snorted. "As talkative as ever, but good." He hesitated for a moment. "So the book will officially be released in two weeks."

You spun around. "That's great! You must be excited."

"Excited. Nervous. A little nauseated," he laughed. One of the orc's hands left your body to run through his unkempt, damp tresses. "There's a lot to worry about. I don't know how well it will be received, but I don't even have the time to focus on that. I have another party to attend, then a dinner." He grimaced and continued. "After that, I start the book tour."

"How long will that last? The book tour, I mean." You instinctively caressed his face, praying the touch could stop time, keep the world from spinning for awhile. You couldn't imagine putting your emotions and effort into something, knowing there will be people who inevitably hate it. If you were in his position, you would have invested in invisible ink or boxing gloves.

"About three weeks," he sighed, leaning his cheek against your palm. "Three weeks of driving, of reading excerpts of my novel to strangers, of talking and pretending I want to be there and practicing my signature."

You offered him a sad smile. "I have seen your signature- it does need a little work."

Oluan chuckled, but his expression quickly returned to stress. "It's just a long time to be away from home... from you..." His voice was a whisper for those last two words, as if the silence would remove them from the air. "Rasdane even suggested I have you join me, but I couldn't ask that of you." His eyes were hopeful. No, Oluan would never ask, you knew that much, but he was asking now, in his own way. In a way where rejection would land softer, indirectly, sparing him the impact. He towered over you, but he looked small in that moment. He looked fragile.

You considered the suggestion. It was risky. You had only officially started dating last night. On the other hand, he did watch you try and fail an entire career, which is long-term relationship stuff. Maybe you could convert the sugar baby section of your dating history like cat years.

Regardless, it was awfully soon to spend such a long time with him in such close proximity. Spending the night is one thing, but three weeks is another experience entirely. He would see all of your quirks and weird habits. You would see his. There is a lot on the line when getting to know someone that intimately and you were not ready to mess this up. There was no way you could go.

"I'll go, but I need a suitcase," you said. Your inner monolog was a coward. More of a suggestion, really.

Oluan's eyes grew wide. He searched your face for even the slightest hint of doubt.

"Besides, I could use an incentive to do laundry. I just need to find someone to feed my cat," you said.

"Oh? I didn't know you had a cat."

"I don't, but it's best to be prepared on the off chance I find one."

Oluan chuckled and kissed the tip of your nose. His posture had relaxed entirely. "You're an idiot."

"True, but you chose to date me, so what does that make you?"

"Hm. An idiot, but a very lucky one," he hummed.

"That was cheesy." You cupped Oluan's chin in your hands and pressed your lips to his. "You taste like maple syrup," you muttered against his mouth before pulling away.

"I could taste like something else if you want." He winked, lowering his hands down your back, grabbing your ass roughly. He smirked when that was met with a gasp.

"How dare you! I am a sweet virgin woman."

His eyebrow raised, his mouth still curved in amusement. "Is that so?" He squeezed your ass again, sucking gently on your neck.

You let out a heavy exhale. "And here I thought you were a kind and submissive boy."

"I am," he murmured between nibbles along your throat, "but that doesn't mean I always behave." With that, he pulled away laughing, making you whine.

"We should get you home, shouldn't we? I wouldn't want your imaginary cat to go hungry."

You remained breathy, nodding. "Duty calls."

Once you arrived in front of the apartment complex, you both tumbled into a mess of kissing and groping. You thought about begging him to come upstairs, but absence makes the next fuck hotter or whatever that asshole said. Dragging your bodies apart was an endeavor, one that you finally succeeded in.

As you excited the car and shut the door, Oluan rolled the window and called your name.

"Hey, by the way, the third stop on the book tour is close to my parents, so we are going to visit them. Anyway, I'll text you later tonight."

"Excuse me?" you exclaimed, but he sped off, clearly aware that was a conversation to be avoided. You glared at the car until it turned out of view. Family? That was a commitment much bigger than you had mentally prepared for and, while you were admittedly curious about where Oluan had come from, you were also going to give him an earful during your next video call.

I mean, you were still going. That was a given. And perhaps, if you were honest, you were a little flattered that he liked you enough to introduce you to his family. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing such.

No, that was the type of secret you write in invisible ink. Now if only you had the boxing gloves.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[mrs-march-ahs]

how the evans would act when they have a crush on u ^^

How The Evans Act When They Have A Crush On You & How They React When You Tell Them You Like Them Too

Award for the longest title goes tooooo... me!

JAMES SUCKS BUT I MAKE UP FOR IT BY DOING BOTH KYLE’S AND A DETAILED KIT

Two other requests-

Could I please request how the Evans would react to their best friend (reader) admitting they're in love with them? 

Heyo! I’m not sure how this would go but how would the Evan’s react to a nervous/insecure reader confessing to them?

-I hope this is satisfactory, even though I don’t think it’s what you two wanted<3

Enjoy! :)

--

Tate

-Would always just be interested in you

-Wanting to help you, watch you, talk to you, just constantly be around you

-But he’d also be insecure whether he was annoying you, so occasionally he would make himself invisible and just watch you

-Whatever hobbies you had, he’d love to watch you do them, paint, draw, write, play games

-If you played any instrument he would love to lay on your bed and listen to you, no matter how good or bad you were

-He would leave little sweet messages on the chalkboard and leave little post-it notes for you to find

-They would have fun little facts about birds or other trivial stuff but you would find them cute

-The occasional fact about something romantic, like ‘Every time you kiss somebody, your heart beat increases by 10-15 beats per minute’

-He might go a little far and leave a message like ‘Your dress looked pretty’, which you would find creepy since you didn’t know Tate was a ghost

Kit

-He thought of ways to tell you how he felt but because it seemed like your family was gonna live in the murder house for a while, cause you were all settling in well, he didn’t want to risk losing his friendship with you, since you were the only ghost with whom he really got along

-You walked down to the basement and said his name in a sing song voice, “Tateeeee”, “Come out come out wherever you are!”

-He showed up and you asked him if he wanted to go out on a real date

-He was obviously nervous, because you didn’t know yet that he was a ghost, but when he hesitated and you looked upset, he said yes right away

-You ran up and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush and laugh, and whilst you were at school, he got some things ready and got candles and a table cover so make your kitchen look like a restaurant

-He ordered McDonalds delivery and got your chicken nuggets under a serving platter for effect

- “We are dining on, nuggets of the chicken”

-Although you were a little disappointed and wanted to go out on a real date with him, you found his effort cute

-He definitely played footsie with you under the table the whole date

-Definitely walked you to your room

- “Well… this is me…”

- “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe”

-Kissed you

oh my god I got so carried away

-You would first meet Kit when you first come and move to Massachusetts

-One day you want to venture out and get an taxi to go to town, only a few minutes later to realise you don’t have your wallet

-You awkwardly tell the driver that if takes you back home quickly, you can get money and you will pay him right away

-But since Boston men aren’t usually so sweet, he just kicks you out, leaving you to wander the motorway alone late at night, far away from your home and hoping to quickly find somewhere to go

-Eventually you stumble upon a gas station, and as you walk up, a hand appearing on your shoulder makes you automatically turn around and push whoever touched you to the ground

-The man in blue uniform gets up slowly with his hands up defensively, “Hey hey, didn’t mean to startle ya, miss”

-You apologise, feeling stupid for this kind of encounter, but he doesn’t seem to mind as much as you’d think

- “It’s always nice to see a woman able to protect herself”, he smiles

-He offers to drive you home, and you thank him dearly, explaining to him that you don’t have a car yet, having only just moved here

-He offers to take you to buy one, knowing an awful lot about cars, and to convince you further, tells you that any man working in a car salon will try to sell a single lady a piece of junk for a high price

-You agree, thinking that the offer is sweet, and he takes you to buy yourself a car, to make the date even more fun, Kit tells you to pretend you’re an old married couple

- “Miss Walka over here needs a car, good Sir”

-At some point while looking at cars, Kit holds your hand and you don’t even notice

-He negotiates a good deal with the salesman, and you get a car together

- “Your husband just got you an awfully good deal, Madam, he’s a man who deserves a good meal and a cold beer if I’ve ever seen one”, the salesman laughs, signing the last of the papers before handing Kit the keys to your car. “Oh, he’ll get more than that”, you say to tease Kit, before smiling at him sweetly. Kit blinks at you, before turning back to the salesman and shaking his hand. As the two of you walk away, Kit looks at you in disbelief, the thought of your dirty words clearly plastered in his mind. “Did ya mean what you said back there?”. He says, as he opens the car door for you. “Whatever do you mean?”, you act stupid. “I was just pretending to be your wife, Mr Walka”

-When he has a crush on you, he gives you sooo many compliments

-Little dirty innuendos

-Would definitely call you and talk to you late night on the phone until one of you fell asleep (house phone if they had them)

-He’s the kind of person to tell you that he got a visit from a cute dog earlier at the gas station and it made him think of you

 Kyle

-Every time you go to get gas from Kit, he gives you only a little amount, so you have a reason to keep coming back

-One time when you go get gas from him, you forget your wallet again, and he teases you about it

-He lets you off and pays for your gas

- “I owe you, Mr Walka”

- “How about a date?”

-You smile at how confident he is, and nod excitedly, having been waiting for him to ask you for a while now

-Kit winks at you and waves as you drive off, completely melted inside about finally getting his girl

-Even though he’s always confident, he’s still a little shy and awkward around you when he sees you in class

-If all of his friends are in a class messing around, throwing stuff, being loud, and you walk it, he tells everybody to shut up because there’s a lady present

- “Hey careful, make sure you don’t throw it at her”

-It’s not until he sees you at a huge party, that he’s confident enough to go up to you

-Even though he’s more than happy to flirt, he’s just not confident enough to do that last step and ask you out somewhere

-He’ll bring you a drink and  talk and flirt with you, and you’ll definitely get the hint

-He slowly lifts his arm up and stretches it over you, trying to do the classic yawn move, hoping you won’t notice or mind. You look over at him and narrow your eyes in fake suspicion.

- “Didn’t you come here with a movie star? Surely you get handsome men bringing you drinks all the time?”, he says, motioning to the drink in your hand.

“You calling yourself handsome?”, you tease him. Kyle laughs a breathy awkward laugh and nods. “Well yeah”

-When you do ask him for a date, he insists that he take the initiative to plan what you two do

-Clearly wanting to make a good first impression, he’d take you somewhere interesting

-Aquarium, in which he’ll make up clearly fake facts about the fish just to make you laugh

-Bowling, just so he can tease you about how much you suck

-Mini golf, so, even though you know how to play, he can wrap his arms around you and help you put

-And if he does take you to the movies, you aren’t spending a dime

-He’ll also wrap his arm around you not-so subtly

Franken Kyle

“Whatcha doin there, hm?”. Kyle leans into your ear and whispers.

“Just in case you get scared, you can cuddle up to me”

“Kyle we’re watching the Lego movie”

Jimmy

-You’re a witch at the academy, and with Kyle’s very slow progress to getting better, both Zoe and Madison are getting slightly tired of having to constantly take care of him

-But you don’t mind, finding his Frankenstein state cute

-Whenever he stumbles into the kitchen by himself you always help him make food

-If he’s ever struggling with anything, he usually comes to you, knowing you’re the most patient out of them all

-Then, one night, all the teens in the academy go to a party, while you lay in bed

-But when the rain starts to get really heavy and the first thunder growls, Kyle rushes into your room, before slowly knowing and peaking his head out, clearly scared

-You let him come and lay with you, rubbing his back to calm him down

-Although no real words are spoken, it’s from that moment that you decide to take on all responsibilities relating to Kyle, the good and the bad

-He’s admired you from afar for a very long time, ever since the first time you joined the circus

-You were incredibly flexible, and always showing off to everyone and practicing on stage

-He would always come and watch you practice, cheering you on more than anybody else

-You called Jimmy ‘my cheerleader’

-It made him blush every time

-Amazon Eve always told him to just ask you for dinner, but the only thing that stopped him was the thought that you wouldn’t want to go out and be seen with a freak like him, especially since your body looked so normal that you didn’t have to hide anything

-Eve and Paul reminded Jimmy that it’s him who’s always the most confident in going out into the real world, and he mustn’t be scared

-When they all plan to go to a diner together, as a protest to being shunned from society, you find his leadership charming and happily go with them

-Even though you all get kicked out, you calm Jimmy down and take care of him when his dad beats him up

James

-You wipe the scars on his face and tell him how brave you think he is

- Trying to gain confidence, you take a deep breath before making the move. “Maybe the two of us should go to that diner”. Jimmy looks up at you, as if he expects you to keep talking. When the nerves hit you all at once, you begin rambling. “You know cause if the two of us go and they’re okay with that then maybe we can start going with the others one by one, and then you know we’ll ease our way back into society and stuff”. You laugh a breathy laugh, but Jimmy says nothing. With every silent second passing, your heart begins to break. But luckily for you, Jimmy speaks up. “Wait, are you asking me out? Like… on a date? To the diner?”. “What if I were?”, you quietly reply. He smiles wide and pulls you closer to him, “I’d love that”.

-James is definitely the least subtle

-Constantly giving you compliments, kisses and gifts

-Opening every door for you and listening very carefully to everything you say

-He doesn’t want you to even think about another man, so he overwhelms you with every way he can show you he likes you

-I can imagine him organising a big ball or event at the hotel just so the two of you can dress up and go together

-He is also the most confident out of them all, although he is a softie around you, he has no trouble asking you anything he wants to you

-He’ll kiss your hand a lot and you’ll eventually get the hint

Kai

- “I would be most delighted if we were to make our relationship more official, and vow fully loyalty to one another”

-You agree and he is over the moon

-Once the two of you are in a relationship, the compliments, kisses and gifts don’t stop

-He will give you your space without him, but when the two of you are in the same room together, he treats your precious time together as if it’s sacred

-He will approximately 43 seconds into your relationship begin planning how he’s gonna kill you

-You can tell Kai likes you when he’s harsher on you than he is on other members of the cult

-He’ll be pissed at you for being a distraction for him

-He’ll definitely tell you when he’s impressed with you, when you murdered somebody or helped him plan something

-Even though he definitely would not want it

-If you proved to be smarter than him in any aspect, he’d be furious

-You’d be sat on his sofa while he’s talking to you about having to kill Sally because she’s getting in the way of him winning city council

- “Samuels looked at where she lives, and it has no back doors, no nothing, it’ll be impossible to get in her house without smashing windows and causing attention”

“Why don’t you get Ally to go to her first? If Meadow convinces her to go to Sally to talk about the cult, then the front door will be open”. Kai looks at you with angry eyebrows. “We’ll sit in the car and wait for a few seconds, she’ll let Ally in, won’t lock the door straight after her, and then let them talk for a minute before we just walk right in”

-His ego won’t let him take suggestions from somebody below him, so even though he wants to be proud of you for being smart, he’s mad

-He’ll sit for hooours trying to think of any other solution he physically can think of, to not go with what you suggested

-Around the cult, he’d treat you like everybody else though

- “Y/N’s idea was brilliant, Ally just walked in and they walked straight to sit down, she didn’t lock the door”

-He’d praise you to encourage you to think of ideas, which he would later be mad that you have

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

-You’d find out how he felt about you during pinky power

-After being suspicious that he may have feelings for you for a while, you realised this is the only way to truly find out how he feels without him trying to manipulate you

-He’d ask you about something deep, and you’d latch on after he finishes a sentence to ask him your question

- “I have a question for you”

“Go ahead”

“How do you feel about me?”

Kai stays silent and continues to look you in the eye, taken aback by the question but not wanting to show it.

“When you’re with me, how do you feel?”

“I think you have real potential, you’re strong-”

“I’m not asking the Divine Ruler, I’m asking Kai, Kai Anderson”

He takes a deep breath before unintentionally breaking eye contact for a few seconds to think. You wait anxiously for the answer, and with every second passing you know what it will be.

“You’re special”, he starts, looking you in the eye again. “You’re valuable to the group, and to me. And I think you’d be a great… mother”. The last catches you off guard, not expecting Kai to be a family man or to think about this with you.

“You… you want me to… have your children?”

“I think our children would be indestructible, strong, powerful, decisive. They would be the seed of the better future”. Although it was a little forward for somebody you’ve never even kissed, you were beyond flattered, knowing how specific Kai is with traits in people.

“Let’s make a baby”, Kai says.

“Whoa whoa”, you laugh and unlink your pinky with his. “We’re not even dating, Kai”

“Why date if children is the ultimate purpose?”

“Then don’t look at is as dating… look at it… as getting to know the mother of your future children”

-Kai would love this and you’d soon end up dating

-And have like 6 kids

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira         @tatesimper  @thxc0untessesgl0ve  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020@elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid  @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

As usual, if you wanted to be added or taken away, dm me or comment!! I won’t mind! <3

[likeastarstar]

Invisible String Pt.2

Part One

(A/N: read part one before this part if you haven't already so it'll make sense!)

masterlist.

Jungkook interested you, so you kissed him.

"I don't normally do this," You promised, feeling breathless as Jungkook kissed his way down your jaw to your neck.

"Same," Jungkook nodded urgently, barely processing what you said in favor for tugging you by the waist so that you were straddling him in the back of the cab he had called for the two of you. He said he just didn't want to leave you stranded at the club, that he'd see you home. But one thing led to another and you were currently praying the cab driver didn't yell at you.

Jungkook's hands were everywhere, rubbing at exposed skin, grazing through your hair, flattening against the small of your back. He rocked your hips back and forth against his lap, frowning again in concentration. Shit- he was really hot.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, wondering what he looked like under his leather jacket. He felt so solid under your touch, like he belongs there. You dragged your other hand through his hair, pushing it back and off his forehead. He keened under your touch, smiling slightly while his eyes fluttered closed as your nails dug into his scalp lightly. You reached the nape of his neck and tugged on Jungkook's hair so that he was looking up at you in his lap, eyes snapping open in sharp attention.

Jungkook's lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something before-

"First stop." The cab driver interrupted, making you jump slightly as the car came to a screeching halt in front of your apartment complex.

You would've asked him to come inside- except that Jungkook practically pushed you out of the car with a fleeting reminder about the money you still owed him. Ouch. You had clearly completely misread the situation, but that didn't stop you from thinking about Jungkook from that moment on.

You looked for him everywhere, scanning crowds on your daily commute, lingering at the same crosswalk you had met him at. Your eyes stayed glued to the floor when you boarded the bus on your way home most days, trying to catch a glimpse of those black boots.

The next time you did see him was three weeks later, at a gaming cafe, of all places.

"No, no, no- NO!" You whispered, scoffing in disbelief as you lost for the third time that night.

This was not normal for you- loosing, that is. You blamed it on the other abnormality of your current situation: being in a gaming cafe. Normally, you'd be playing LoL in the comfort of your own home sans-pants. But one overly excited moment and a mug of tea placed too closely to your set up and boom- no computer for you. At least while it's in repair.

"You're very dramatic," A voice said next to you, snapping you out of your spiral.

You frowned and looked over to whoever was next to you, locking eyes on Jungkook, who was currently slurping down noodles like someone was going to take them from him. You shrieked in surprise, the two of you jumping in your chairs at the same moment. "Are you stalking me?" You whisper-yelled, leaning away from him.

"No," He snapped, talking with his mouth full. "I got here two hours before you, I just didn't feel like saying hi until now. I could ask you the same question."

You watched him eat in awe, trying not to fixate on the way his tongue looked snaking out to lick his lips every now and then. There had been too many coincidental run-ins between the two of you for this not to be fate. You shook your head, throwing the incredibly stupid thought out of your head.

"Anyway, good thing I ran into you," You shrugged, choosing to ignore the fact that the last time you had seen him, you were rubbing your pussy all over his lap. "I have something for you."

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, waiting expectantly as you dug around in your bag for a moment. You found what you were looking for, a small keychain of a skeletal hand in the same positioning as the tattoo on his forearm. "I saw it and thought of you, so I got it for you. Here, rock on." You explained, handing it to him.

He laughed slightly, taking it from you gingerly and inspecting it closely. "My tattoo means I love you, not rock on." He pointed out, pulling out his keys and putting the token on the loop.

There was a warm feeling in your chest knowing he was actually going to use it, one that only grew when you noticed the slight blush on his cheeks, "Yeah, well, the keychain means rock on." You quipped, "Do you like it or not?"

"I do," He said quickly, holding up his keys with a bright smile. You sent one back to him, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt. "Thank you."

At this point, neither Jungkook or you ever made plans to see each other. You knew it would just happen on its own. Which is exactly what happened a month later, on what could only be called the worst day of your life.

Things hadn't been going your way for a very, very long time. You usually had pretty good luck, but suddenly it was like the universe had forsaken you altogether. After a particularly terrible blind date, you had had enough- no more dating. This guy was all kinds of awful, he didn't laugh at any of your jokes, he had a terrible taste in music- he even wore the wrong clothes. He had loafers on- loafers. God, Jungkook would never wear those.

Instead of wallowing in a ruined night, you did what any struggling girl boss would do- you got yourself dessert.

You walked to the nearest 24 hour diner, pushing the doors open quickly. There was barely anyone here, thankfully. It was the perfect place to be alone.

Except that two seconds after you sat down in a quiet booth next to a window, Jungkook came marching up to your table. He was wearing a color other than black- this time it was a patterned buttoned down shirt and loose fitting trousers. You couldn't see his shoes, but that wasn't really what you were focused on at the moment. No, instead you could only stare at his latest haircut, cropped short on the sides and parted neatly. Who was this guy and what did he do to your fluffy headed soulmate?

"Are you sure you're not stalking me?" You asked calmly, at this point you were completely unsurprised to see him popping up at the most random times.

"I saw you from the window on my way home and figured I'd say hi," He shrugged, sliding into the booth beside you, immediately tossing his phone haphazardly onto the table. "Although I'm beginning to think you're a figment of my imagination. It's bizarre how you just keep...appearing."

"You're telling me," You snorted, resting your chin on your hand propped up on the table. "But I'm not sure if you'd be able to kiss a figment of your imagination."

Jungkook blushed deeply and you laughed for the first time that day. He was just so easy to mess with. Jungkook pouted childishly and stole your menu, burying his face in it.

"We did a little more than a kiss in that cab," He said in a whiny voice, "It's pretty late, why are you at a diner at one in the morning?"

"Nothing, bad day." You mumbled, "I needed pie."

"Valid reasoning," He said pensively, "You look nice, by the way. I like your earrings, they match mine."

You looked at the chain looping through his double piercings, realizing he was right- you had a similar version in your own ears. Weird. You didn't get a chance to return the compliment before the waitress came over and Jungkook ordered literally every kind of pie on their very extensive menu and two coffees.

"If pie will make you happy we might as well go all out." He reasoned, only noticing your outraged face when the waitress left. "Anyway, I got you something."

He dug around the backpack he has dumped in the booth beside him when he got here, pulling out a flash drive with a a tiny keychain of a butterfly connected to it.

"I don't know if I've never mentioned this before, but I'm a musician." He explained, holding it out to you. "This has my latest stuff on it. Nothing fancy, just wanted you to listen before I send it off to my label. Plus, the keychain reminded me of you."

You took it from him slowly, holding it as if it were worth a million dollars- which to you, it was.

"Sometimes I think I dreamt you up," You mumbled, still staring at the flash drive. You couldn't wait to listen to it, to hear his velvet tone and silvery vocals whenever you wanted. This was the first, tangible thing that connected him to you, a reminder that even if the universe hated you right now- at least Jungkook was in it.

"Touch me and see," He offered, leaning back in his seat with a small smirk on his face.

Your eyes flicked back to him, a dare written across his features and a thread pulling at your heart. You leaned forward, a smirk of your own on your face until his phone buzzed, interrupting the heated moment.

You weren't trying to be nosey, but the bright light of the screen caught your eye and you glanced at it quickly. It was a text from someone, their contact saved under a series of hearts and one word: wifey.

Wait- his what?

TO BE CONTINUED...PART THREE

(A/N: MUAHAHAA! If you've made it to the end, thank you, I love you, I'm sorry. Next part is the last part, as always feedback is so so appreciated! Send me an ask goddamnit!)

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

wooohooo MCU gremlins drabble

Thor and Bruce examined the burn patters swirling on the remains of a wall, as Tony and Steve chatted to themselves.

“It’s been a month since these so-called Four Warriors were summoned, and we still haven’t found them. And now we know they have energy-based weapons.”

“But don’t you think that’s strange? These Warriors have been in New York for a month, and this is the first we’ve seen of any sort of attack.”

“Ahem.” Thor stood up. “I’m afraid that you are incorrect, Man of Iron.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Bruce stepped in, data pad in hand, which he passed to Tony. “The burn patterns here are too sporadic to be man-made. They look like natural lightning- or the kind of stuff Thor can summon. If I didn’t know this came from the middle of the city, I’d say the wall was just struck in a storm.”

Tony hummed. “So, what are you saying? Instead of the Warriors running around my city with weapons, they’re running around with superpowers? That’s worse!”

“Tony, you have to calm down.”

The Thunder God shook his head. “Actually, I have seen this kind of lightning before. It was made by a child of the stars- your people do not have a name for their race.”

Steve blinked. “An alien?”

“Yes, but one forged in the heart of a star. That is not the concerning thing about these markings, however.”

“What is it?”

“They are powerful, but wildly inaccurate. Whoever shot these blasts was not trained to use them effectively.”

“Meaning?”

“They are either a non-combatant... or a juvenile. I would tend towards the latter, as a fully grown star child would have more power in their blasts.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “It’s a kid? You’re sure?” He stopped. “Fuck.”

“Language.”

“Shut it, Rodgers. I just remembered something.” He tapped the data pad. “When we fought that weirdo with the staff, we saw a bunch of teenagers.”

Steve made a noise of realisation, and his heart sank. “Four teenagers. I thought they’d been caught up in the blast, so I made sure they got out safely. I only saw two of their faces- but they were definitely just freaked-out kids in over their heads.”

Bruce took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Are you saying he summoned teenagers to do his dirty work? Are you saying the dangerous Warriors SHIELD has been tracking are kids?”

“Most likely stranded kids, if they’re still in the city.”

“Fuck.”

Steve didn’t admonish him this time.

——————————————————————————

A good thing about a city that’s constantly under attack is that nobody looks at a beat-up teenager twice, except with pity. Tommy knew that from back in L’Manberg, and it still rang true in... wherever the fuck they were. New York? He kicked a rock. “Fuckin’ stupid name. I would have come up with a much cooler one.”

Purpled scoffed, but there was no malice in it. “Uh huh.” The Starborne kept an eye on the entrance to the alley, fingers flexing around a hidden knife. He wouldn’t be caught unawares again. “You’d have named it L’Yorkberg or something.”

“Like I said, a much cooler name.” Tommy shot his friend a grin, and the wall behind them promptly disappeared. A tall figure with a hood over his face beckoned them through, the wall clicking seamlessly back into place behind them.

Finally, safety. The house they’d found was abandoned, and if anyone had come across it they’d be... confused. Random chunks of soil, sand and marble in perfect cubes were scattered around the room, and every surface was covered with random bits and pieces of machinery.

Purpled swept some scrap metal off of a cube of granite, and emptied out the bag of food he’d snagged on top of it. “I got enough to last us the week. I don’t think they saw me, but we should go to a different store next time to be safe.” Tommy passed the hooded figure a handful of first-aid kits. “Did Tubbo get that fridge working?”

The hooded figure- Ranboo- nodded. “Yeah, put the meat and stuff in it so it doesn’t go bad.” That had been a shock- food in this world spoiling over time. They couldn’t get ill from it, just Hunger, but it was still unpleasant to eat. The worst part of it was that they couldn’t just stock up on bread and wait for someone to find them, they had to constantly go out to get food. At least the first-aid kits were just a precaution.

The ram hybrid in question leaned into the room. “Hey, guys! Did you run into any trouble?” Tommy shook his head emphatically, while Purpled looked sheepish. “No...”

Tubbo put his hands on his hips. “What happened?”

Purpled coughed, embarrassed. “We kind of got mugged. They wanted this green paper stuff we found.” Tommy puffed out his chest proudly, wings flicking mischievously under his hoodie. “Purpled kicked the shit out of them, you should have seen him! Zapped them right through a wall.”

The ram’s eyes lit up, radiation symbols dancing in his pupils. “Sick!”

Ranboo, on the other hand, looked slightly panicked. “Uhm, aren’t we trying to keep a low profile?”

Tommy shrugged. “Eh, we had our hoods up, plus there’s a fuckin’ million people in this city. It’ll be fine.”

Tubbo clapped his hands together twice, banishing the nervous air that had grown in the room. “Right. Ranboo, you’re still banned from the kitchen after the Spaghetti Incident, so Tommy, it’s your turn to cook.”

——————————————————————————

Tony Stark was not good at waiting. It took approximately seven seconds for JARVIS to illegally download the CCTV footage of the attack, and about sixty for everyone watching to see what had really happened. It was still too long for him.

Two teenagers were walking down an alleyway, one in a red hoodie and one in a purple one. They were talking together and laughing about something.

“Red has blond hair, blue eyes, about 6’3. I think he’s got a dyed white streak in his hair.” He’d roped Natasha in for this, her spy training making her excellent at spotting details others would miss. “Purple has lighter blond hair and... purple eyes? Huh. They could be blue too, just a trick of the light. He’s shorter than Red, maybe 5’11?”

One of the teenagers swung his bag at the other with a grin on his face. The other yelled at him. Two older men appeared at the other end of the alley.

The spy’s eyes narrowed. “Two adults, 20-25, Caucasian, wearing beanies and dark clothing. They’re armed, one of them is nervous but the other has done this before.”

One of the men pulled a gun, and the other cracked his knuckles. The teenagers scowled.

“Huh. Interesting. Red and Purple aren’t afraid of them. They look... annoyed, but not scared.”

The man with the gun lunged forward, and was promptly knocked through a wall with a blast of electricity. The other man froze, and the teenager in red hit him over the head with a bag, before bursting into nervous laughter.

Nat’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Okay, now I get why you wanted me to see this.” She looked at Tony. “Mutants? Have you contacted Xavier yet?”

Tony shook his head. “Not just mutants. Thor thinks Purple is an alien. Called him ‘a child of the stars’ or something.”

Shadows appeared at the end of the alleyway. The teenager in red swore, the words clearly visible despite the silent recording. He tore off his hoodie to reveal a large pair of wings, and grabbed his purple-clad friend. The pair flew out of sight of the camera.

“Red might be a mutant, we don’t know. Neither of them are showing up on any databases. No birth records, schooling, missing persons reports, anything.”

Nat sat back in her chair. “Right. You got any idea where they went after this?”

He shook his head. “Not one. We can assume Red landed in a remote area and hid his wings, before meeting up with the other two.”

She rose an eyebrow. “Other two?”

“There were four teenagers at that battle, remember? Just after four great Warriors were supposedly summoned.”

Recognition flashed in the spy’s eyes. “You think they’re the Warriors? They’re a little young.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Steve was pissed when we put two and two together and Bruce nearly Hulked out. Kids don’t belong on a battlefield.”

“What do we do now?”

“Look for patterns. Where we see them, and when. JARVIS is looking through all public cameras right now, and he’s already found Red and Purple stealing food from a nearby store a couple of times.”

“No sign of the other two?”

“Not yet. Although, they could just be better at hiding. Hell, one of ‘em could have invisibility powers or something. Hard to tell.”

She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

Tony recognised that calculating look in her eyes. “You’ve figured something out. Alright. What’ve you got for me?”

She steepled her fingers together. “Put it this way. You’re a kid, and let’s for argument’s sake say you’ve been summoned to an unknown city, possibly even an unknown planet. You’re lost, and you’re evidently not able to get money or food, if you’re stealing from stores regularly.”

“Right.”

“If one of you has invisibility, why risk the visible ones getting caught? Why not just send them instead? No, my money is on Red and Purple being the most inconspicuous.”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the easiest to blend in- the most baseline human-looking. And considering one’s an alien and one has wings, that’s saying a lot. The other two might not be able to go out in public without causing a scene.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about it that way. But it makes sense.”

She shrugged. “Or the other two could be injured. Red was holding a bag full of medical supplies.”

“Shit. We need to find them, and fast.”

!!!!!

:D

[redorich]

For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[manonblaqkbeak]

Dating and Goodreads

Back for Day 8-Blind date (how the hell do u guys come up with good title fics i struggle so bad lol). I wasn’t really going anywhere with this one, but when i read all of the others and saw how fun the fics were, i decided to finish this one.

also for Summertime and Fresh Strawberries, I deliberately left it blank but I can’t hold onto the secret bc two people were curious as to what happened, so i’ll let the rest of you know that aelin and rowan decided to keep summer and be a cute little family, bc im a sucker for happy endings lol (unless its angst, it’s safe to assume that all my rowaelin fics have happy endings bc they’ve all ready been thru so much and even in alt fics i need them to be happy lmao)

anyway, on to the next one. hope you enjoy!

1.8k words

cw: none

Aelin was a confident woman, something that she was proud of. But that didn't mean that there weren't times she didn't feel self-conscious or awkward and full of doubt.

Because right now, all those negative feelings were swimming inside of her.

And those feelings were just magnified today, especially since she had gotten fired only a few hours beforehand. It was utterly unexpected, she had never received any prior warnings, and while she was a fighter, Aelin didn't feel like stepping into the ring for this one. Not when her boss was a demon from hell that made life unbearable and she had to physically push herself into entering the work building.

Aelin told herself that it was for the best. She was miserable there and hated working in an office typing up the worlds most boring reports and working in a space that was entirely too drab.

But she wasn't looking forward to job hunting. Aelin was aware that she could ask her friends for favours, but if Aelin did something wrong, she didn't want it reflected back onto whoever helped her.

And she was still a little peeved over the damned argument she had online again with that haughty prick on Goodreads. Aelin wasn't sure why those arguments kept going, but each time she would post a review, White Tailed Hawk would respond, telling her that she read the book wrong and this and that and blah blah blah.

Aelin repaid the favour each time, telling him how he was wrong and he had no reading comprehension skills. And on and on it went until Aelin or whoever the fuck that guy was went back to their own lives.

Depressingly, it was the most fun she had some days.

Shaking her head, Aelin forced herself to think of the now and not of her shitty day. Still she sighed, not quite believing that she had agreed to this blind date. Couldn't believe that she had let Aedion convince her it was a good idea.

Aelin had said no at first, after Aedion had voiced his offer, and her cousin left it at that. But days went past, and he would bring up the topic of Rowan, about the things he had said that day, how his dry sense of humour took some time to get used to but once you figured it out, he was actually pretty funny, how he had finished a project perfectly and this and that.

But it got to her, annoyingly. So the other day when he was helping her out with some housework that was a two person job, Aelin told him to set up this date. Aedion cheered as if it was the best thing he had ever heard, telling her how she and Rowan were the perfect match for each other.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything of the assessment.

She had only agreed because it was getting frustrating being asked at every family event if she was dating someone, when she was going to give her parents grandchildren (that question pissed her off the most, as if Aelin was nothing but a birthing machine and that was all Aelin could contribute to society), and who was going to look after her when she was old if she didn't have children (because apparently carers didn't exist).

Aelin was also lonely—she could entertain herself just fine, but she did like the idea of coming home and talking to someone that could respond. She loved Fleetfoot and her enthusiasm when Aelin came home, but human companionship would be nice.

But Aelin didn't have high-hopes for this date because the universe liked to kick Aelin's ass from time to time, she suspected that they were going to hate each other.

Taking a deep breath, Aelin got out of her car, smoothed down her romper and went inside the restaurant, head held high.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't believe that he was about to go on a blind date. That Aedion had convinced him to go out with his younger cousin. He hadn't dated anyone since Lyria and he knew that his dating skills were going to be rusty as hell. He had been with Lyria since they were nineteen, married at 23 and divorced at 31; he had been single for the last two years.

It had been...fine, a little strange, after being with someone for so long to find himself a bachelor. Rowan never thought that he would apart from Lyria, but their relationship had just faded. Long before the divorce, it had been more like a housemate relationship than a marriage. He wasn't surprised when his ex-wife had come home after work with divorce papers. He had only stared at the paperwork for an hour before he signed the forms. Truthfully, Rowan was just glad that he was still on good terms with Lyria, that they could still talk to one another from time to time.

Rowan had almost called her earlier today, to ask how the hell dates went, but felt that it would have been crossing some invisible line, so he didn't call and instead had Googled the questions instead.

They didn't really help.

Rowan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, telling himself that if things went wrong, then it wasn't the end of the world. That if he had to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, then that was fine. He had plenty of ways of keeping himself busy—he had a good career, a nice house, plenty of books to read and to argue online about them with.

He had one earlier today, actually, with Queen of Wildfire about a new release that Rowan had eagerly read within days of its release. And once again, he ended up with an argument with the woman about the messages and themes within the book.

It was stupid, he knew, to be at his age and to be fighting online with a stranger, but something about this woman just had his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Some days he looked forward to it, as embarrassing as that was to admit. He didn't really want to look into himself to figure out what it all meant.

Eyes drifting to the dashboard, Rowan realised that his date was about to start. Popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing out his clothes, Rowan took a deep breath and left the car and went to his first date in twelve years.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

X X X X X X

The date had started out a little awkward, but that wasn't a surprise to Aelin, because what blind date started smoothly?

It picked up after Rowan admitted that he was divorced and that he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Aelin appreciated that stark honesty and admitted that she too had no idea what to do.

Since then, the conversation went well, the food was good and Aelin had even swiped a few bites of his dinner because it just looked so much better than hers. Rowan had playfully grumbled underneath his breath, but smiled as he said it.

It was going really well. Maybe the universe had decided to give her a break for the rest of this evening. There was a part of her that maybe wondered if they would have sex, because the man did look fucking fantastic, but at the same time, she didn't want to rush anything in case this actually turned into something more.

“What's the dumbest thing that you've done recently or in the past?” Aelin asked. There was no such thing as small talk between them—Aelin had all ready asked if he believed in aliens and was glad when he said yes, because “it's ridiculous to think that we're alone in this wide universe of ours. It makes sense that there'd be other lifeforms out there.” Which was pretty damned close to Aelin's reasoning as well, so asking him about stupid moments felt like nothing in comparison.

Rowan smirked at the question and took a moment to think before answering. “I engage in online arguments.”

“Really? About what, exactly?”

“It's stupid. But my all my arguments occur on Goodreads of all places. Not Facebook, or YouTube, or Twitter, but Goodreads. It's never anything insulting but just arguments about how wrong some people's in depth reviews are.”

“Fair enough,” Aelin said, “I've been known to do the same thing as you. There's this one user on there, White Tailed Hawk—a stupid name if you ask me—and he just never...” Aelin stopped when she noticed that he stopped eating and was just looking at her weirdly. “Rowan? Are you okay?”

“Do you, by any chance, go under the name of Queen of Wildfire?”

Aelin blinked, and then blinked again, and once the pieces fell into place, she knew right then and there that the universe really hated her. She let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing throughout the space. Aelin wasn't really sure what to say, because it was true what he said; it had never been insulting, but ending up on a date with the man she had regularly arguments with was just...she had no words, other then, “It really is a stupid name.” She took a sip of her wine, needing to do something other than wanting to bang her head against the table.

“I couldn't think of anything else to write.” And it wasn't also his favourite animal, he had told her that earlier.

They lapsed back into the awkward silence of earlier, both picking at their food.

But Aelin didn't want this night to go to waste. “It'd be stupid to let something as small as this get in the way of whatever this could be,” Aelin said, deciding to be blunt.

Rowan nodded. “It would be. Although I have to be honest, you really have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Call of the Wild Winds.”

Aelin just about stormed off when she noticed his playful smile, his eyes sparkling bright. Laughing, Aelin threw a bread-roll at his handsome face, and once he caught it and split it in half for them to share, they went back to their earlier conversation.

And when Rowan walked her to her apartment door and kissed her on the cheek goodnight with a promise to text her later, Aelin couldn't help herself by telling him that all his opinions sucked and that he had no idea what he was talking about—all with a big smile on her face as Rowan sputtered as she closed the door on his face.

They spent the rest of the night texting, and all of Aelin's earlier woes faded away. And she looked forward to tomorrow, despite the horror of job hunting. Maybe the universe will finally let things turn around for the better for her.

Aelin went to sleep with a smile on her face, all because of White Tailed Hawk.

And on the other side of the city, Rowan also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Warnings: not rlly anything

A/N: a lil bit of a deeper dive for these two’s relationship👀... enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Sam invited him out to some restaurant, but after the last one he suggested, he decided to pass. And when Sam asked him what he was doing instead, if he was seeing you, Bucky lied and said yes. It made Sam happy and got him out of going to another ridiculous restaurant, so he saw it as a win-win.

Once Sam left, though, his thoughts did drift to what you were doing.

You two exchanged numbers at the pizza place after your date, but you two haven’t texted much. He texted you making sure you got home safe, which you did, and a day or so after, you texted him a picture of some advertisement with an awfully cheesy pick-up line written on it, which even he agreed was awful.

But that’s about it. So, he texts you.

Hey. What are u doing?

About to make dinner. Y?

Told Sam I was seeing u. Wanna hang out?

Come over.

Simple enough, he thinks.

You two haven’t had the most meaningful text conversations, clearly, but it’s still nice. No flirting, no typing and retyping messages in order to hook, line, and sinker, no ghosting. No relationship texting.

It was a dream for him. To have a new friend. He’s made plenty of friends, both in New York and in Wakanda. But it’s all under the same… umbrella. Always an agent, a fighter, an analyst of some sort. Someone to train with, to fight with, to fight for. Never someone like you. Someone that works a mundane job and lives in a mundane part of New York where her weekends are filled with going on mundane blind dates or otherwise cooking dinner for one.

It’s a breath of fresh air to not talk about fighting or missions or press or media or anything else he has to hear about at work. The only connection you have with Sam is that you met in a coffee shop a few years ago that has since closed down. He was one of your first friends here.

You could care less about Captain America, too. Which hurts Sam’s ego, and in turn, makes Bucky smile.

So, he goes over to yours.

He’s not sure what you’re making, but he brings a bottle of red wine as a courtesy. You are making dinner after all. Besides, women love wine, right?

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Enough going on to show that someone does indeed live here, but also enough to show that you’re not exactly swimming in riches, like most people that live in this city.

The place smells like garlic and basil, and he’s glad that he brought the wine.

Shoes discarded at the door, he helps chop up the rest of the ingredients while you put a pot of water to boil. He chops up mushrooms, onion, pancetta, eyeing the bottle of vodka out on the table and tube of tomato paste next to his hand.

It's an understatement to say he’s excited. Most of the pasta he makes is from a bag of precooked noodles and a jar of tomato sauce.

Basic small talk floats through the air as the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen. Even though you’re “dating”, you don’t know much about each other. This isn’t too uncommon from how dating was for Bucky when he was a teenager; you’d marry women knowing very little about them.

Your favorite color is orange. You played violin in grade school. You had a childhood dog named Chowder. Bucky tells you his favorite color is green. He played a little bit of piano when he was younger, but did boxing in his late teens and early twenties before the war. You poke fun at him when he can’t remember the name of his own childhood dog.

“He’s probably rolling over in dog-heaven.”

“Good boy; he’d deserve a treat.”

You laugh.

Easy conversation continues on the couch as bowl after bowl of pasta is eaten and replenished. As fun and seemingly simple questions are asked, like each of your favorite movies or whether or not you pour the milk before the cereal, the room that’s left is used for deeper questions.

“What’s your most embarrassing moment?” You ask him.

He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, only to close it again. “One time when Princess Shuri was fixing my arm it wasn’t secure completely, so it flew off while I was playing with some of the children.”

“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. I know it’s not, now you have to tell me what it really is.” You tease him.

He’s never been the best liar.

“You’re right, it’s not my most embarrassing moment. My actual most embarrassing moment is just kind of… sad. And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or anything.” He explains, hoping you’ll accept that but instead you give him an encouraging smile to hopefully give him some comfort that whatever it is he wants to tell you is safe in your apartment.

“Okay, uhm. So, in the 40’s, after I was rescued by Steve, but before we shipped out again where I was recaptured for the second and final time. We were all holed up in this little dance club, all the soldiers and their gals. And in walks Peggy Carter in a pretty red dress,” He begins, only glancing at your eyes periodically as if to make sure you’re still there.

“I know she’s Steve’s gal, he told me all about her. I wasn’t flirting with her because I wanted her, I was flirting with her… to make sure I still could. I mean, after being held in that… place… they injected me with stuff, told me things that weren’t true, I mean Steve told me I was repeating my number over and over again when he found me, I didn’t even remember doing that. I felt… violated, used, not like myself. I felt like I wasn’t me anymore.

“So, when Peggy walked in, I thought about how everyone always called me a ladies man, how good I was with women, I mean, I’d take girls out about every damn weekend, you know? I wanted to feel normal, so I flirted with her, tried to get her to dance with me. And she completely ignored me. She never even took her eyes off of Steve. It’s like I was invisible. And it just sort of felt like the nail in the coffin for whoever James Barnes was before the war. It was a realization that I’m never going to be that person again. And it was embarrassing for me.” He explains.

He hasn’t looked up at you again, but he heard your fork stop moving around your bowl a minute or so ago. He feels a lump in his throat thinking about that time, how he knew he’d never get back the man he was, even before knowing what was in store for him after falling off that train. How he used to be this man that wanted a long, happy marriage, six or seven kids running around a big backyard, a white picket fence surrounding a big two-story house in a neighborhood of identical homes. He wanted the cheesy life, at one point. But the same man that wanted that life died falling off a train many years ago.

All of that’s forgotten, though, when you open your mouth, and seem to say the perfect thing to make him feel better.

“One time in the third grade, this girl pulled my skirt down in front of my crush, and I wasn’t wearing any undies.”

A snort escapes his throat as you, somehow, after he’s shared something so deeply personal, something he never even told Steve or Sam about, still found a way to make him laugh. Which is what he wanted, he realizes. The comfort of moving on from that confession and not having to wallow in it like other people would try to. His hand leaves his fork to cover his face as tears threaten to leak out from how hard he’s laughing.

He took that secret to the grave, even if it wasn’t his own. He told himself he’d never tell Steve about how he felt in that situation, and he never did. He never told Steve that he didn’t enlist, either. He couldn’t imagine how Steve would’ve felt knowing that the army would’ve rather taken men that didn’t want to go to war, men who were terrified to go to war, had too much to lose and wanted to be selfish and stay home, than men like Steve who would do anything to enlist. Including lying on the damn enlistment form.

He wonders if Steve is looking at him now. Watching over him as he shares something that he never did with his best friend, with you, a girl he’s met barely a week ago, on your couch over bowls of pasta while he points out leftover sauce on the corner of your lip.

“What’s your greatest fear?” He asks you next.

“Dying alone. Actually, no. Getting kidnapped, probably.”

“Oh, mine’s spiders.” He shares.

It’s so easy to laugh with you, he finds. He jokes with Sam a lot, all the bickering and teasing all in good fun at the end of the day, and it’s mostly pretty funny. But laughing with you. He feels like a teenager again. Somehow, everything is funny; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed so much, especially about things that aren’t even that funny.

It’s raining at the end of the night. Early morning, rather.

“You can take the couch, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I don't mind a little rain, and I like the ride home.” He fed Alpine before he left, but he imagines his cat misses him, even if she’s probably busy licking herself to even notice he’s left.

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t push him. A simple pleasure that’s more of a luxury for him. There’s no pushing or convincing or Are you sure’s with you.

Certainly a luxury, you are.

[thanks-mike-stamford]

Fics that inspire my writing - Part I

This is Part I. The other parts will be linked here as they are posted: Part II | Part III

When people ask "What's your favourite fic?" I can't truly give an answer. It depends on my mood! How can I choose only one? Sometimes you want to reread that one fic for emotional comfort, sometimes you want that other one for the hots, sometimes you want to suffer a bit with the characters and have the relief of the happy ending, and sometimes you love a fic so so so much, but it hurts and you don't pick it up again ever. There's no way I can choose a favourite.

So this is just a disclaimer that this list is not really about favourites.

This list is about writing.

I'm not as prolific as a writer than I am as a reader. I try to do my best, of course. The best way to learn a lot about writing, though? I have to say it's reading. I can attribute most of my vocabulary (in all languages I know) to reading. When talking about writing fiction, it's more than vocabulary, though: narrative, prose, dialogues, plot, characters, themes... It's a lot happening.

These fics I'm going to mention are the ones that I read and think yo myself: oooh, I wish I could write like that. So I use them to study! Perhaps I could try this type of narrative? Or I could build my characters to be complex in this way? Perhaps I could phrase things in a less mechanical way, like this author does?

I'm drafting a lot of stuff recently and in these new works I'm trying to improve the way I write. I'm a quick reader but slow writer, but I hope my future works can show I learned from these stories below.

So, here we go, 10 Fics That Inspire My Writing, in no particular order. This list is not exhaustive either, it was horrible to choose just 10.

Part I

Limping forward series by bendingsignpost

I absolutely love this series, which is a main fic from John's POV and a short prequel from Sherlock's POV, supposed be read after the main story. I'll refer to the main story from now on.

This fic is dialogue-heavy. The moments of description are usually very close to the POV, and while it's used to indicate actions, the main purpose is always to show what John is feeling by how he interacts with whatever and whoever is around him. Sometimes we are left with dialogues that are not explicit. The characters know exactly what they mean, by the described reactions, but the reader is left to wonder - or most importantly, to actually think about what they mean given the context. The fic feels almost like an intelectual exercise in which we practice how to read people's feelings. The climax of the fic doesn't come from a misunderstanding that can be fixed with a conversation, for example. It comes from an emotional misunderstanding, and it's brutal, because there's no way it couldn't happen. Both John, Sherlock, and the reader need to understand the meanings behind the actions - if you have a bias or trauma, it can be hard. Sherlock's deduction at the climax scene comes from an emotional perspective - he deduces how John felt, and that would finally explain John's actions, which weren't clear for him. Just like Sherlock says in the story - it's magnificent.

These two aspects - dialogue with implicit meaning and description with a purpose - are aspects I lack in my own writing. I struggle immensely with dialogue, and my descriptions are usually "Character A is here or there, talking to B or C, and they're thinking X or Y". I look up to how this fic works in trying to get better, and I did try to incorporate those "invisible conversations" into my works.

The Illusion of Control series by starrysummernights

Uuuh, omegaverse! Not everyone's cup of tea. I love omegaverse though, for two reasons: you can create completely different world dynamics and sex/gender dynamics, and play with it.

This series needed to be a series. Every part is important. We have alternating POVs of John and Sherlock. If you read the series as a WIP, as it was posted, you could have been under the impression that it was strictly porny. But it helps a ton to read it following the chronology of the story (the prequels and sequels to the original one were attributed accordingly). Because the trick of this series is John's character arc. We are immediately presented with John's life story since childhood until he starts a relationship with Sherlock. He has endured great emotional trauma, but at first he doesn't even recognise he has been traumatised. Lifelong issues build up and eventually will spill over. It's not quick to deal with it, that's why it needs a full series. His relationship with Sherlock deepens, he needs to make some important choices, he faces great struggles. And step by step, we follow John's journey. It's absolutely brilliant to get there. It hurts, but it hurts good. And it's nobody's fault, at the end. He's not reduced to his issues, he's an entire complex person, but we are always aware how said issues played an important role in shaping this character.

Writing such a long story, posting it out of chronological order, and not losing sight of the character arc is what makes this fic stand out. One of my published fics specifically took great inspiration in this one while building a character arc for John.

Trying to Find The In-Between by NoStraightLine

Later on this was re-posted as a multi chapter fic, but I originally read it as a series when it was a WIP, and personally I think it works better this way.

This amazing work taught me a lot about causes and consequences. I think the entire series can be grouped in three parts. First part is the beginning of their relationship. They are learning about each other, playing piece by piece like a puzzle. Then second part is around Reichenbach Fall, they separate and emotional fuckery ensues, up until Sherlock comes back, the pinnacle of angst. Third and last part is them relearning each other from scratch. The relationship needs to be completely different - and they don't even know if they will get together after all, if it will ever work again. And here's the main point: it's not a single decision that warrants consequences. They had a super intense relationship at first - but if you go too high, the fall is worse. Everything is borderline unhealthy, but it could easily be attributed to love. The author doesn't shy away from showing us it's a bit of both: big love can be a bit unhealthy. To put up boundaries between them so they both keep sane you also need to limit how you treat each other, and what you expect from each other.

This fic made me think I need to estimate the consequences of how I build up characters' interactions. The reactions need to be accordingly to that measure. In one fic I tried to play with this intensity ended up being borderline unhealthy. Not something you'd want in real life, of course, but in fiction... anything is possible.

This is the end of Part I. Stay tuned for Parts II and III!

[redbeardace]

I was asleep.

Everyone remembers where they were. I was sleeping.

I was in college then. Summer quarter had ended a few weeks ago, and Fall quarter was a few weeks away, so I had nothing to do that Tuesday. I was sleeping.

My mother would get up to help get my father ready for work. He'd leave a little after 6 AM. Then she'd stay up and turn on the KTLA Morning News. We weren't in Southern California, but we'd lived there and had family connections there, so it felt like a "local" newscast, even though it was a thousand miles away. So most weekdays, I'd fade into consciousness, hearing the rhythm of the broadcast.

Carlos to Mark, Mark to Jennifer, Jennifer to Sam, Commercial, Repeat.

That morning, none of that.

I couldn't really hear what was going on, but it wasn't normal. There were no jokes, no music, no commercials, no changes. Just a steady drone.

I started to listen, to try to hear what was happening.

I heard something about the Pentagon and a bomb at the State Department.

Well. That's not good.

I roll out of bed and into the living room. It was a little after 7:30.

There's a helicopter shot of giant cloud of dust on the TV. Dust. A few buildings. here and there. But dust. Everywhere. It looked like Mt. St. Helens had moved to the city and erupted.

It wasn't the Pentagon. It wasn't the State Department. Was that New York?

"Planes hit the World Trade Center towers." My mother's voice is shaky.

Okay, then, somewhere in that dust are the towers. They build those things to survive plane strikes. It survived the bomb in '93. The Empire State Building got hit by a plane and it's still standing. She told me that they'd fallen, but I didn't believe her. I couldn't believe her. They're just hidden by the dust and the dust will clear.

The dust will clear. The towers can't just fall. You'll see.

The dust will clear.

There was nothing there.

---

We watched what was unfolding on the other side of the continent all day long. I think my father got sent home early and joined us.

Watching a day like that unfold live is an experience that's hard to describe. You look back now, and there's a clear timeline, there are clear events. But on that day, nothing was clear. The news was an unbroken stream of numbing repetition and confusion. The anchors narrating what's going on have a worse view of it than you do, because they're squinting at small monitors halfway across the studio. You can flip between CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, and pick up little tidbits here and there, but they can't. They only have what comes through their earpiece, what ends up on their TelePrompTer, what's handed to them on paper. No one knows what's going on, not even the people telling you what's going on.

That day was full of rumors and confusion. There were attacks at the State Department and the FBI, there was a plane that had crashed in rural Pennsylvania, there was a plane that had been hijacked in Alaska. We didn't know what was real, and what was a phantom of fear. But mostly, it was just the numbing repetition. There was nothing new to add. Nothing more to say at 1 PM that hadn't been said at noon. What got repeated is what had happened, what didn't get repeated hadn't. The plane crash in Pennsylvania got repeated. The attack at the State Department didn't.

All day long, it was the same video from earlier in the day. Maybe a new angle as reporters and survivors got their footage to a TV station. But we watched it again and again. Maybe there'd be a new detail to see, something to fill in another piece of the What The Fuck Just Happened puzzle we were now living in.

In a weird way, that day didn't seem as bad as it went on and the rumors subsided and the scope became clear. My morning started with a dust cloud that covered all of Lower Manhattan and obscured what had happened. Had the towers toppled sideways and crushed dozens of buildings for blocks around? It was 9 AM on a Tuesday, a work day, those buildings were full, and the area was a major commuter hub. 10000 people in each building, maybe tens of thousands passing through, hundreds of thousands in that cloud of dust. There's no one alive down there. The initial estimates they gave were 20-30 thousand in the collapsed towers alone, to say nothing of the people suffocated by that cloud of dust and smoke. And then Washington DC is under attack and they're even hijacking planes in Alaska. What are they going to do to us next? But the death toll steadily dropped, other rumored attacks were found to be false alarms, they didn't come back for a second round. But that "good" news didn't make us feel any better. What would've made us feel better would've been word that they had been rescuing dozens of people from the rubble, stories of survivors being found days later, but that news never came.

---

Where's the President? Why haven't we seen the President? Why hasn't he said anything?

"He's safe and in an undisclosed location."

On September 10th, George W. Bush was just a bumbling dumbass who'd stolen the election from Gore. He wasn't yet a warmonger, although he'd surrounded himself with them.

On September 11th, Bush was still a bumbling dumbass, but he was our President. I was actually glad that he was invisible and hidden most of that day. We didn't know what in the hell was going on. If I knew where the President was, then the assholes who did this to us would know where he was, and no matter how much I didn't like the guy, I certainly didn't want to see a terrorist attack on Air Force One or the White House.

But I was worried that he'd send in the missiles and bombers and turn everything from Morocco to Pakistan to ash, which is what some people were calling for before we even knew who was responsible. And that's not what happened. All that happened that day was... nothing. I respected that, and I still respect that. Rushing headlong into revenge isn't what we needed that day.

---

We ended that day, not with Dan Rather or Peter Jennings or Tom Brokaw, but with Hal Fishman, legendary anchor on the KTLA News at Ten. He was a plane guy. He'd know what happened. He was comfortable to us, familiar, and we needed to know there was still something out there comfortable and familiar.

---

The next day, my mother wanted a break from it all, so we went shopping. I don't think we needed to, and Wednesday wasn't the normal shopping day, but we just had to get out, so we went to Wal-Mart.

Throughout the store, there were TVs hanging from the ceiling. Normally, they'd show ads and music videos and things. Not that day. They were all tuned to CNN. People stopped in the middle of the aisle, watching Condoleezza Rice or Donald Rumsfeld or Colin Powell or whoever giving a press conference.

There was no break from it.

---

Does everyone else know it was a Tuesday? I mean, just know. Like somehow that is an important, integral part of what happened that day. Because I know it was a Tuesday with that same fierceness as I know that the towers fell. I don't remember all the flight numbers or which tower was hit first or which one fell first or even a single word of what the President said that night, but I know it was a Tuesday. And I don't understand why.

---

I've cried over it. I just did while writing all this. It's one of the few things I have cried about. But it's never sustained weeping. One tear. Maybe two. It feels like it should be more, but then it's like the scale becomes incomprehensible and unreal and it stops. What good will my tears do? They won't fix it. They won't change it.

---

"Never Forget", they say, but twenty years on, many of you have no memory of that day, maybe even weren't born yet. You've only seen the packaged videos from the perfect camera angles. You know what happened, the full story told from beginning to end across three acts in a two hour movie. You know the death toll, you know about the box cutters, you know how Osama Bin Laden ends, you know where the undisclosed location is, you know about the plane that said "Let's Roll". We didn't know any of that, sometimes for days or weeks or years. We only knew shock and confusion and sadness and anger and numbness and a giant cloud of dust that has not cleared and will never clear and still coats everything in our lives, even if we were thousands of miles away.

For those of us who saw that day...

Never forget?

How could we?