#wouldn't be just another straw on his back..... or another Brick in The Wall as Pink Floyd would sing it lmao

[flowerbloom-arts]

You claimed that “it's like [Skinner] is just a kicked puppy sometimes and I wanna hug him” so could you maybe make something where he gets comforted please?

He needs a good cry so so bad...

[bludrogue]

Another Random Headcanon About Jason Todd

This is another weird experience I have had, but this is due to a personal experience. If I slam on my breaks too hard, witness a car accident in front of me, or bash the back of my head against the driver's seat (or any seat in the car for the matter), I tend to have the scent of burning oil fill my nostrils.

I don't know if that's normal, and sure, I'm projecting myself onto the headcanon, but I think it's an interesting experience. With that said, here's headcanon #3:

Headcanon #3: Phantosmia

-- Every time Jason has bashed his head against a hard surface, whether it be a wooden table, a brick wall, a lamp post, the concrete streets, a car door - honestly, the list is so long he can't even remember what he's smashed his head against -- the first sense to kick in was his olfactory.

-- Now he wouldn't care if this was just a physical response in general, but his nose always picks up on a scent that's never there. He's not entirely certain why his nose fills up with nonexistent fumes, this has been the case for as long as he can remember.

-- You'd think the scent of bourbon would remind him of Willis, the man always had one in his hand or in the cup holder of his arm chair. Jason can still recall the scent to this day - oak dipped in smoke, tinted in caramel, and saturated with vanilla. And as much as his mind can recognize the smell like he can recite a Shakespearen play off the back off his hand - that's not the scent his body would use to recall Willis.

-- No matter how many times Willis got close enough to burn his nostrils with his breath, it's never been the whiskey either.

-- Instead, it's fucking drywall.

-- Of all the scents in the world, it's fucking drywall. Because of course it is.

-- When he was a kid, it was this putrid scent of a heavy dose of rotten eggs nearing sulfur with a hint of chalk dust. And maybe those particular remnants are from a memory where Willis probably bashed his head hard enough into their shabby walls that he made a hole. Not that Jason remembers aside from the egregious smell - whether that's a side effect of the pit or straight up trauma, Jason is not would willingly attempt to recall any shared memories with his biological dad by choice.

-- If he could, he'd bury those memories deeper than when his body was trapped in the earth and surrounded by an ocean of soil.

-- But it's not just before being Robin.

-- During his time spent as Robin, if he hit his head hard enough, Scarecrow gave off a musty odor with a tinge of the world's worst garbage dumpster. Peguin, oddly enough, reeked of spoiled milk. And don't get him started on the Riddler -- that one he can't even describe with just words. (He weirdly gives off the scent of nail polish remover, do not ask him why.)

-- But the Joker?

-- The Joker's scent was nothing what he expected.

-- His sense of smell doesn't go toward the crisp and suffocating scent of smoke, the one that clogged his lungs so much that he wondered if that was the final straw to lead him marching towards death's door. Nor was it the smattering metallic smell emitted from the crowbar that bashed him over and over and over and - And his nose does not recall the Joker with the lead heavy scent of blood, no matter how much of his own spilled the day he died.

-- No, instead the monster carries the scent of fucking bubble gum.

-- Sweet, fruity, pink chewing gum.

-- Because of course the universe just has to ruin the little things, those simplicities of enjoyment. Like the birds chirping in the morning become screeching alarm clocks, his coffee mug always being chipped, a hole in his favorite pair of pants, just anything to ruin his day. He wonders whoever the fuck is in charge of mapping out his life is relishing in the misery he endures every fucking day. When he fucking gets his hands on -

-- Did you know it took him a solid year to even so much as spare a glance at a pack of the most basic, minty chewing gum again after his spent training with the League of Assassins? Did you know that it was until two years after his whole war between him and the bats he was finally able to even hold a stick in his palm without gagging? Did you know that only four years after all the bullshit he went through, he could finally place one stick of ice peppermint gum in his mouth for a solid ten minutes without throwing up immediately after?

-- He still can't handle the fruity flavor gum - no sour apple, no watermelon, no strawberry, no cinnamon, and especially no bubble gum flavored shit - without the dreadful urge to vomit lingering after.

-- And before Jason mended his relationship with the bats (or is still trying to, he has plenty of ups and downs with Bruce that he's getting dizzy from the ride.) Bruce's scent was ruined.

-- When he was Robin, Bruce carried the redolence of leather and a warm campfire. There was just something that screamed safety in his scent that he couldn't explain. The every time he woke up in the gurney from a concussion, the smell would hit before he would open his eyes and he knew Bruce was there.

-- But everything changed the night Bruce chose the Joker.

-- Bruce had hit his head hard enough against a porcelain toilet seat that his nose was bashed with the scent of leather instantly. He thought he had picked on his own jacket, but once the campfire wood wafted into the air he knew that was his designated scent for Bruce.

-- The emotional side was then crying for his dad, begging him to keep him safe from the monster in the closet, pleading to just let him come home, to choose him - his son - please - But the logical side was louder, especially when he aimed the gun at the Joker's head and gave Bruce a choice to make.

-- He had a job to complete and Bruce had a choice to make.

-- And Bruce decided and his scent was tainted.

-- Now, when there's a meeting held in the bat cave, or the only company he shares is with Bruce, he has to resist the urge to rub the scar on his neck to reassure himself he's not bleeding. To remind himself that his nose is just playing tricks to get himself to believe his throat is sliced open again.

-- But he never minded his olfactory any attention about these scents. Honestly, it was more subconscious than anything else, so why pay any attention to the matter? Plus, it wasn't like the matter was giving him any issues or disrupting his routine in any sort of way. He was still able to patrol and function to his usual capabilities -- which was not the standard, but still... functional.

-- And that meant had nothing to be concerned about. That these phantom scents had to be normal, right?

-- Maybe this was just another secret human function nobody spoke about. Kind of how the American education system fails to explain safety for sex because of the desire to keep a 'puritan' image.

-- But, as usual, he was proven wrong.

-- According to Tim, phantom smells were not a normal human function. Because, 'No, Jason. People do not have specific scents when you hit your head too hard,' and 'No, Jason. It is not common when you hit your head hard enough to smell a person or smell a nonexistent scent.' And blah, blah, blah.

-- He stopped paying attention after the third no.

-- But how did this conversation come about? Allow Jason to draw the scene for you:

-- Jason 'allowed' himself to be dragged to the manor by Bruce due to the severe concussion he received due to an Arkham breakout, followed by the orders of mandatory bed rest. And so, he was trapped under one roof with his siblings, who were piled into his room to force him to remain awake for the required hours necessary to be deemed safe from a coma.

-- He knew Dick was besides him, and the head massage he was receiving was not helpful in keeping him awake. But the others were somewhere in the room, he didn't need to open his eyes to know. He could tell by their scents.

-- The only person who wasn't in the room was Tim, who claimed he'd come right back without another word. (He's positive Tim went to go refill his coffee mug for the seventh time, and someone needs to get a handle on this kid's caffeine addiction.) But when Tim returned, he heavily smelled of apples - he always did when he was anxious.

-- Not that Jason usually minds if he hits his head, but this time the pounding was an incessant bitch who brought a drill to ram against his skull, so he couldn't handle the heavy scent at the time.

-- Jason immediately scrunched up his nose the moment Tim entered the room the moment he caught a waft of green apples. He rolled onto his side to have his back face the door, followed by a groan of, "Dude, Timbo, you fucking reek."

-- If Jason hits his head, sometimes he can practically smell Tim's potent and eternal state of anxiety. It's just as bad as Bruce's paranoia (but no one can ever beat that man in his levels of anxiety). However, when Tim is anxious, he carries the particular scent of green apples.

-- He hears Tim scoff, and there's a dip of weight at the corner of the bed. Jason lightly kicks Tim to shove him further away, only for the asshole to scoot closer.

-- "Hey, I took a mandatory after-patrol shower," Tim retorts, and he lifts his mug up to his lips and sips his coffee.

-- "No, you smell like fucking green apples," Jason hisses, burrowing his face into the pillow. If Tim gets any closer, his churning stomach might aim at Tim as his puke bucket. "You always do when you're fucking anxious about something, but Jesus fucking Christ, tone down the scent or, fuck, go sit in the arm chair."

-- "Green apples?" Dick mumbles, pausing in the movement of his hand. Jason almost whines at the loss of movement and he taps Dick's wrist. The moment Dick's hand continues those soothing circular movements, he relaxes.

-- What Jason doesn't see - or decides to blatantly ignore -- is the wide - eye stares everyone is glaring into his head. If Jason were to look, he would find a 'what the fuck' expression on each of their faces.

-- "Are you positive you're not smelling one of Tim's scented shampoos, tough guy?" Steph asks with curiosity lacing her tone. Tim has an array of scented shampoos and unscented ones -- the kid may be shit at self-care, but he certainly knows how to tend to his hair -- ranging from pomegranate to coconut to lavendar to oaky to vanilla, etc. (The list could go on.) But he certainly does not have a single apple scented shampoo.

-- "I'm positive," Jason replies. "He has a scent, you have a scent, everyone has a scent. Especially when I hit my head, it's normal."

-- People having individual scents is totally normal. He's positive of it. Plus, he's hit his head a multitude of times that the phantom scents kind of linger.

-- Tim taps the side of his coffee mug with his nails. "Jason... that's not- that's not normal."

-- Jason lifts his head from the pillow, the combination of scents burning his nostrils, but he ignores the hot twinge in favor of glaring at Tim. "It's fucking normal, Tim. I fucking experience it every time I hit my head."

-- "May I implore that none of your human experiences are what is considered 'normal', Todd?" Damian raises an eyebrow. He's settled on the ottoman by the end of the bed.

-- Jason opens his mouth to argue, but quickly clenches his jaw shut. As much as he hates to admit... the demon-brat has a point. Not that he needs to elaborate.

-- 'Is this a side effect from the lazarus pit?' Cas signs, tilting her head at a slight angle. Her eyebrows furrow together and the corner of lips curl - just as she always does when she's curious about a topic she doesn't understand.

-- "No." Jason whispers, keeping his tone gentle and crossing his arms over his chest. These phantom senses have always been around for him, even before the pit.

-- "So," Tim drawls, shifting the weight in the bed as he crosses his legs and holds his coffee mug. "When did this start?"

-- Jason narrows his gaze at Tim. "Fuck you, you're not my therapist."

-- Besides, he'll see his therapist next Wednesday, and he'll snitch on Bruce to his therapist. (And yes, his therapist is Harley.) He's not clinically insane - yet - but if this another 'Jason Todd anomaly', then why does he have phantom scents that hit his nose at random times? Especially when he hits his head?

-- "Wait, Lil' Wing," Dick pipes up, and Jason finds a cheeky grin on his face that warns Jason that Dick is about to ask a question he won't want to answer. "What do I smell like to you?"

-- "Yeah! I want to know too." Steph chimes in, resting her head in her hands as she places her elbows on the bed. There's a doe-eye look in her eyes that screams 'Pretty Please' as she flutters her lashes.

-- Heat crawls across Jason's face and spreads across his cheeks. He should have just kept his mouth shut, but he just had to go and whine about Tim reeking of fucking apples. It's not that he's embarrassed - not that he'd admit the truth out loud - but he's now more nervous than anything to reveal their scents. Especially now that he's more aware that having phantom scents isn't a typical human function.

-- Jason releases a breath, and decides to tell each one of them their identifying scent.

-- He has to admit, there are some positives to this phantom scents.

-- Dick carries the scent of sugar coated, blue cotton candy and mouthwatering salted popcorn. It reminds Jason of the one chance he took to sneak into the circus tent and hide under the bleachers as he watched the performance of the graceful Flying Graysons. He's always transported back to that memory when the scent hits his nose. But there's always a hint of hyacinth, and Jason has no idea where that comes from.

-- Tim may smell like apples when he's anxious, but he always carries a different scent of a different apple depending on his mood. If Tim is anxious or afraid, he reminds Jason of the odious redolence of a green apple. If Tim is mildly annoyed, enraged, or upset, he carries the scent of red apple. If Tim carries the scent of a yellow apple, it's an indicator that Tim is in a good mood.

-- Jason likes the yellow apple the most because A) That means Tim is in a good mood, and B) the smell of a yellow apple is a piquant flavor he has added on to his list of good scents. He doesn't feel has to avoid that apple without a specific reminder which is nice.

-- Steph smells zesty and sweet and reminds him of pop rocks candy, specifically the grape flavored kind. This could be due to her vivacious nature, but he nose tingles every time her scent appears. That could sometimes lead him to sneezing - which he doesn't admit to her.

-- Cas smells like Jasmine and sandal wood with a hint of roses.

-- Damian smells like paprika and cinnamon.

-- Duke smells like honey (and a part of him wonders if that's just because of the suit or the bee meme that his nose decided to join on the bandwagon.)

-- Alfred smells like his homemade chocolate chip cookies and hibiscus tea.

-- "And what about Bruce?" Dick's question is hanging in the air as Jason is drifting off to sleep. And Jason will never speak the truth of how Bruce smells now.

-- But he can always bend the truth.

-- "Used to smell like leather and campfire wood," Jason yawns into his pillow. "Used to smell safe."

-- "Used to?" Tim's question remains unanswered as Jason finally falls asleep.

-- When Jason wakes up, he notes that everyone is asleep except for Tim, who's claimed his spot in the armchair and curled around his laptop. His mug rests on top of the coffee table, his fingers are rapidly yet quietly typing away on the keyboard, and his focus is so honed in on the screen in front of him that he's caught off guard when Tim abruptly states, "Phantosmia."

-- Jason rubs the sleep out of his face. "Phanto-what?"

-- "Phantosmia," Tim repeats, adjusting his body weight on the arm chair and his eyes remain on the computer screen. "Or more known as a phantom smell, meaning you'll smell something that isn't there. Most people typically smell metal, burnt toast, or chemicals. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, just what occurs with either strokes or severe head trauma."

-- "Well, that explains a lot." Jason huffs, a smirk teasing his lips.

-- Even though he has an answer - which is pretty rare considering his medical history puts Santa's naughty list to shame - he doesn't believe having phantom smells is necessarily a horrible thing to have.

-- If the wind blows in just the right direction, he'll have scent of his mom follow him. Not his birth giver, Shelia, but Catherine. His mom carried the luscious scent of marshmallows, lilac flowers, and lit vanilla candles. And in his mind, it's still like his mom is there, still with him. Oddly, that was the last scent he remembers before he died in the warehouse and it's the safest he ever felt in years despite all the surrounding chaos.

-- "Thanks for researching, Timbo." Jason whispers.

-- Tim turns his head to Jason, and his lips lift into a grin. "Sure thing, Jay."

-- Phantosmia, while there are aspects of it he despises, he thinks there's a bit of a blessing buried in it too.

Hey guys! It's been a solid few days (I got super busy this week), but I thought I'd produce another headcanon. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! I'll post another head canon soon!

Other headcanons:

Head canon 1

Head canon 2

[hopusthebrainlessfloof]

A fanfic based on @thekoopalingsandstuffs blog! Specifically, a non-canon event where KAS canon Dieter meets an alternate version where Kaley and Beef put him up for adoption.

TW: Use of the f-slur, forshadowing of death, mention of child abandonment

The Difference Between Us

They stared at each other, their identical eyes locking through the barrier of their identical shades. Identical bandanas, identical ties, identical names... It was like looking into a mirror. A twisted mirror. They were the evil versions of one another, a selfish pervert and a faggot pansy. The latter's mind was preoccupied with an upcoming football game that weekend. The former was mentally reciting his plan for Theresa to finally "open up" to him with force. The chatter of the other patrons of Applebuzzys filled the air, but were soon muffled by the deafening silence that overcame them. Neither had spoken a word to the other. They didn't know what to say.

"I don't feel like sharing a name with a wannabe, so... I'mma call you Dee." The other bit his lip. Fine. Dieter and Dee. "So Dee," Dieter sneered as he bit into a boneless wing, not even stopping to finish chewing before resuming his thought. "Ya heard of this cute girl named Theresa?"

Cringing at the brute's lack of basic table manners, he took an awkward sip of his drink. "I know someone who used to be Theresa. He goes by Spewart now. We now live near each other after being apart for a long time." Dieter grimaced. "Yer one of them queers, arentcha?" He stared back at the former with contempt. "Whaddaya mean by that?" Dieter scoffed.

"Thinking you can change your gender and stuff. You believe in that faggot stuff?"

Hearing the slur made his blood boil. The differences between him and his doppelganger were becoming more evident. Still, he decided to resume the conversation... Perhaps it would get better as they went on? "I just do what makes him happy. Wouldn't do that for your... Partner-friend?" Dieter gave a loud sigh. "When I'm with my girlfriend, we have a good time. Don't stop to think if I'm happy, cause I already am."

Oh great, he talks in circles too, he thought to himself. "So uh... What kind of dates do you and... "Theresa" go on?"

"Glad you asked!" Dieter beamed, though it looked like a sinister smirk. Guess he always looked like an evil bastard. "We do everything... Go to games, go to watch movies, go out to eat... The only thing we don't do yet is sweet lovemaking, but I'll get her to do that soon."

The only word he could think of was "gross". The way he thought of his girlfriend, assuming his Spewart didn't discover he was Spewart yet, as an accessory and not a person... Whatever events led him to not be like Dieter, he thanked the gods for. "How are you able to pay for all that? Do you work, or something?"

"Uh, no, my parents pay for it. Why would I work?" Because I do so I can pay for my dates. He obviously didn't say that, not wanting to argue with a brick wall. Or worse, a conservative. "Just asking..." Dieter stuck up his nose, if he had a nose. "My parents give me anything I want. They're like, the best." "I can tell." He took a sip of the iced drink to cool off a bit, just talking to Dieter was making his blood boil.

The waiter came by to hand them their entrées. "What about yours? Are they as cool as mine?" He hesitated and cleared his mouth. "My dad is cool, I'd say." "What bout your mom?" "I don't have one." "What??" Dieter was so taken aback, it seemed like he didn't know what a single parent was. "Where's you mom? Did she die or something?" He humbly smiled. "No. My birth parents put me up for adoption. I was eleven. It was the last time I saw Spewart before we met again in Darklands."

Dieter thought for a bit. "That means... You're an orphan? HA! Imagine being an orphan..." This was the final straw. He called the waiter over. "I'd like a to-go container and my half of the check, please." The waiter nodded and left.

"What- Hey, what the fuck? I thought you wanted me here to discuss how cool it is to be Dieter Fitness, or something!" Dieter threw his arms to the air. "Why are ya leaving so soon?" He placed his food in the containers and wrote the tip amount before handing the waiter the cash. "My uh... My head hurts. And I don't want to get you sick."

Dieter blinked. "I guess that's fair... It would be pretty pathetic to get sick, at a time like this." He politely nodded and took his food. "Nice meeting you." "You too, I guess. Seeya, orphan." He forced a smile and left. They would not see each other ever again, as Dieter would fall to a sharp and chilling fate just two days later.

[nomoreusername]

Lily Of The Valley (Part 1)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:The collapse of WICKED meant spending another one of Aris's birthdays hidden from the world.

Our lives weren't getting better any time soon. With the way the Mazes had collapsed in on themselves, there were very few of us left. Even the professional WICKED workers' had abandoned this place at the end of everything. Now the old sanction was essentially isolated.

I believe the worst part wasn't the deaths themselves. It was the fact that in just a few more days the last of us were set to go up.

Life though, had other plans.

The skies from both Mazes started glitching, giving the Glade snow and the Spring heat, causing their crops to wither away to nothing more than soil. Then, the rains started, soaking and flooding every inch of that place, and leaving the Runners and Skaters unable to do their jobs. Eventually, all this change made the pipes burst, leaving them without water.

Before you think we didn't try, we sent up box after box with supplies. Fresh food, clean water, extra clothes, thick blankets, dry towels, new shoes, and every item you could think of was provided while the last five of us, Thomas, Teresa, Rachel, Aris, and I, worked on discovering what had malfunctioned the code. For only three weeks we were empty handed until we looked at the past footage of the Maze, where we saw Newt and his message to WICKED. We watched him scale the sides of the wall with nothing but a measly vine before reaching the top.

Despite it being obvious what was happening, he's only human, so his urge to know if there was more, won as he reached his hands for the sky. Instead of anything he could have prepared for, he slumped to the ground.

Still, as we examined the footage closer, we saw the black hole from where he had touched it, showing that he had ripped the barrier between the two Mazes. Realizing nothing would solve that, we argued over pulling everyone out of the Trials altogether when there was this muffled yet ear splitting sound. Barely a second later pieces of the ceiling started falling.

It was split. Rachel, Thomas, and I ran towards the box in a desperate attempt to pull everyone out, while Teresa and Aris ran to the control rooms to close down everything so that whatever had happened inside wouldn't affect them.

Unfortunately, we're a package deal. So the Right Arms little device was the final straw for this place.

Rachel, bless her soul, tried to disengage one she found stuck to the wall. Somehow, she managed to do it. Trusting her, Thomas and I stepped into the boxes as she moved on to another.

Only this time, the bombs were too quick. With another explosion, everything collapsed. I'm 100% sure the only reason Thomas and I are alive is because of the metal boxes surrounding us, enclosing out bodies.

Still, all that debris and ringing in my ears caused me to go unconscious.

Of course, there are worse things to be. I would tell you to ask Rachel, but we couldn't even piece all of her together if we tried.

By the time I woke up I felt myself being dragged off. Looking up, I saw Aris pulling me with him, visibly limping, before shutting me in the room where Teresa was treating Thomas's head wound.

From what I heard, his leg ended up stuck under loose bricks while they were running, breaking his ankle. While she did snap it back into place, to this day, he still has that limp. In fact, we all have something. For me, the noise damaged my eardrums, leaving me completely deaf in my left ear and with below average hearing in my right. Thomas has scars, some fainter than others, on his face, neck, and chest. Teresa ended up breaking her right wrist from the amount of effort to help everyone. With adrenaline pumping through her, she snapped it back but was unable to treat it. Now she can't move her fingers on her left hand. And Rachel was blown into tiny pieces so she's dead.

We all tried, but it wasn't enough.

We went back for the subjects' bodies when we felt we could. Burying everyone that had most of themselves intact, we made graves just like the Baggers had, by hand and shovel. Placing them inside, we made tombstones with their names in any color we could find. Any color but red. After the amount of crimson soaked onto fabric, walls, floors, ground and snow, we had had enough of that color for a lifetime.

After that, we savaged what we were able. While on our hunt for canned food we came across a bomb shelter. Apparently, nobody thought that was good information. To this day, I don't know if them not guiding everyone towards it before the explosion or when this all started is worse.

If I had to answer though, it would be the fact that they knew this place would kill everyone but didn't even warn us. They just left, leaving us to deal with the mess. My guess is they expected us all to die.

Now we live down here. As immunes in a world that hates us, and past WICKED workers, it's for the best.

To make things easier, we split us up into groups. The original partners, Thomas and Teresa, were a packaged deal so they got their own wall we couldn't see through. I was merely a fill in, and now I would be a permanent one. So Aris and I got our side, and that was that. While we still talk, this was just the easiest thing in terms of sleeping and rations.

We honestly don't know much of what they get up to since the separated walls are soundproof, making it our own homes. While there are times with board games, VHS's, or music, we didn't go into deep conversations. While Teresa and Thomas probably had their own, Aris and I were all we needed for that.

We didn't move on after. You don't just forget something like that. It's just that our only other choice was pitying ourselves forever, and it would be pathetic to do so when we are still alive.

Three weeks ago marked the third year since the incident. In those three years, we had found a few things out. Apparently, our names aren't ours. Teresa is actually DeeDee, Thomas is Stephen, Aris is Caleb, and mine is Y/R/N. Still, seeing as we don't remember having them, we don't use them. Another thing. At the time of the incident Teresa was seventeen, along with Thomas, Aris was nineteen, and I was eighteen. So now it's two groups of twenty year olds, stuck on their own. While that should be an irresponsible group, we aren't most people.

We also found our birthdays. Today was Aris's, June 17th. So he chose a movie, The Never Ending Story, and we all watched it while eating dinner. After it was over, we played Candy Land before they left.

I still had one more thing. It was small, as expected, but it was something.

Giving him a vanilla cupcake, I lit the candle and told him to make a wish. Looking at me for a moment, he then closed his eyes and mumbled before blowing it out.

"You made it another year,"I whispered.

"Yeah. I did,"He nodded, unwrapping the sweet treat and cutting it directly in half. "Here,"He said, handing it over.

"It's not my birthday,"I shrugged.

"No, but it's a thank you. For being here and giving me hope when there wasn't any,"He told me, still expectantly holding it out.

"I didn't give you anything,"I sighed, accepting it anyway because I know exactly how stubborn he is.

"You gave me this cupcake."

"You know what I mean. I haven't done much but exist."

"You've stayed beside me."

"I kind of have to."

"Just take the compliment."

"I already took the cupcake. Don't be greedy,"I sighed, rolling my eyes before taking a bite. While it wasn't as sweet as it could be, that wasn't unexpected. Despite the way this food was supposed to last for decades, rationing is still very much needed, even for little treats. The icing and small sprinkles helped though, and it wasn't dry so all in all, it wasn't a bad dessert.

"I learned from the best,"He said in a light tone. Rolling my eyes again, I nudged his good leg before taking a second bite.

"So one more movie?"He offered, doing the same.

"Yeah. Just turn up the volume this time."

"You seriously didn't say anything while the last movie was playing?"He pointed out, looking through the pile as I sat in front of the couch, leaning against it.

"Not while the Double T's are over,"I shrugged.

"I doubt they'd mind."

"And I would. Inconveniencing you is one thing, probably my favorite thing actually. We just don't see those two enough for it to be fun."

"As hard as you try, you don't. I love you too much,"He responded, putting a VHS into the player and rewinding it.

"Yeah. There's something wrong with you for that,"I pointed out, leaning completely against the couch and pulling the sheet from it.

"Well, you're my best friend so if something's wrong with me something's wrong with you."

"Gee. I wonder why I could be your only friend,"I deadpanned.

"That gets funnier every time you say it,"He replied in the same blank tone, pressing start before I could see what he picked. Turning up the volume, when the previews started I could hear it just enough.

"I know,"I nodded as he sat beside me. Getting under the same blanket, we stayed beside each other as the movie played.

All Parts

[spideygwennie]

let me handle it , just go !

🕷️🕸️— 𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 — @shieldrevive

She's seen worlds collide, at the brink of existence, the desperation. Those days, she's grateful her world wasn't as advanced yet. Civilization turning against each other the more vast technology grows. Dreading when the day came, praying it wouldn't be only her to keep it at bay.

Gwen couldn't save this world's Peter Parker either, but she could hold the fort for him. She was meant to change shifts with another, take a break, but the gnawing in the back of her mind begged to stay. Exhausting herself, but pushing through the pain. She knew how crime could rise as the universe digested the shock of losing half its population. It doesn't sleep, why should she? Never mind her fists were forgetting to hold back, the wounds on her body were slower to heal, her panting becoming more guttural.

"But- !" Gwen began to object behind her mask. Hand adding pressure onto her gash, side bleeding more than it should, something should've healed it by now. But they were running on fumes at this point. And now? A burning building? Our greatest weakness? The soldier's voice was firm, no arguing. Reminded her when her dad was at his last straw with her.

It was her cue to tap out. A soft grunt later, Gwen sprinted through the flames, feeling her suit singe while heading for the nearest window. Showered in glass, not caring about the height. Wrist delayed to flick a string of web before producing enough to create a safety line. There was no sticking the landing unfortunately, more like body slamming into a brick wall, shoulder crunched against a balcony railing that slowed her fall onto concrete. Gritting through teeth, counting her blessings, Gwen managed to somehow get up and limp away.

[marvelship-oneshots]

ITALY (STONY)

AU where Steve and Tony fall in love one summer in Italy, inspired by this beautiful fan art made by @vindemiatrix-moonpies

Tony had been left at the altar. The wedding was organised down to the very last detail, everything already paid for by Tony. Everything was perfect, everyone was there. Everyone except the bride. Mary didn't show up. Nor called, or texted. She just disappeared. Tony found out later that night that she had ran away and eloped with her lover. She could have had a perfect life with no one less than the Tony Stark, but in the end she had chosen love. 'Plenty of fish in the sea' Tony had told himself, because it was true, every single lady, and some single lads, was willing to marry Tony. Who wasn't? Mary apparently. The problem was that Tony loved Mary. He really wanted to marry her, she was not just another strategic economic move. He really thought she was the love of his life. But he wasn't hers. This was not going to stop Tony from enjoying his 3-month-long honeymoon in the sweet Italy. Tony laid on his bed the tuxedo, hoping that it wouldn't be there once he came back, he probably had to leave a note to Pepper or Happy. He definitely didn't want to see that suit ever again. He jumped into the first sweatsuit he found in his closet and, without even bothering to take his suitcase, drove to the airport.

Steve was 18 when he decided that America was not his home. As soon as he was out of High School, he took the first plane for Barcelona and went backpacking through Europe. He had always known that, eventually, he had to come back, but then he found the perfect little fishermen's town in the south of Italy, a place that he could finally call home. It was true, what the stereotypes were all about. Italian were indeed nice and friendly and welcoming and when Steve was offered to work for the son of the nice old lady who was kind enough to give him a roof over his head when he got lost in a storm, he felt like he had found his place in the world. Steve hated bad weather, after all he didn't know any fisherman that didn't hate bad weather. But that storm, that storm was a miracle, it might have put him on the wrong road, but it sure showed him the right path. Little did Steve know that he would have to thank bad weather once again.

It took Tony three days to realize that staying in his luxurious hotel room,drinking scotch and snuggling with self loathing wasn't going to take him anywhere. Eventually, he had to get back on his feet. "Stark men are made of iron" his father would say. One morning, he set the alarm way earlier than his usual. It was a nice day outside, although he could feel in his bones that a storm was arriving. The Tony of just one day before would have taken that as a sign to stay in bed, but not the new Tony. He only had 3 months to spend in what in his opinion was the most beautiful country in the world. He had his fancy breakfast, got into a nice linen shirt and drove out of the parking lot of the hotel with the beautiful red Ferrari he had rented for Maria. He drove to a nice little private beach, bought a straw hat because why not, and started walking on the shore, in search of a boat to rent. Tony eventually found one that he could rent and take out without any particular licence. Tony had never sailed a boat before, but he did drive some expensive cars, so he figured it wouldn't be that different, nor much more difficult. Also, he was a fast learner. Indeed, after listening to the renter explain how the boat worked, it wasn't that big of a deal for Tony. At least not until the big storm arrived. It started with the sky turning darker and the wind blowing harder. At that point, the waves were way too high and violent for Tony to come back. If he had had any experience sailing, he probably wouldn't have had any problem going back to the shore. But he didn't know how to face an angry sea and he panicked, which is something that every fisherman would tell you not to do.

The storm was finally over and Steve was walking on the shore, looking for possible damage caused by the storm. It was nothing out of the ordinary, storms happened in summer and that one wasn't any different. No boats were damaged, but he liked walking on the beach after the rain, the sand was humid and fresh and there was a nice breeze. He was collecting nice little seashells for his collection, he already had a handful, but he let them go as soon as he saw something laying on the sand, something that should not have been there. That something was Tony's unconscious body, dragged here by the waves. Steve needled by Tony's side trying to wake him up. He checked his vitals and looked for injuries that luckily were not present. He picked him up in bridal style and took him to his house. From there, he would decide whether he needed to go to the hospital or not.

Tony woke up in Steve's bed. He was feeling exhausted. There was a little ray of sunlight coming in from the window that was hitting him right on his face. Tony rolled over, trying to hide from the light, but fell on the floor with a loud thud. As he loudly growled, more from the frustration than for the pain, Steve ran in the room, as if he was standing right out of the door, which he was, kind of. "Hey, hey, do you hear me?" Steve asked in Italian. Tony was not sure if he understood him, but he could hear a thick American accent in his voice. Truth was, that, no matter how long Steve had been living in Italy, he could not produce an authentic Italian accent, although he knew the language like his own. "Water" Tony mumbled, closing his eyes. Steve ran away and came back with a glass of water. "Here" Tony took the glass with both hands, eagerly drinking it. "Do you know where you are?" Tony shook his head. "Do you know who you are?" Tony nodded "Anthony...Tony" Steve held out his hand. "Very nice to meet you Tony. I'm Steve" Tony shook his hand. "How are you feeling?" Tony nodded. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" "N-no I'm fine" Tony replied nodding. "Ok, let's get you something to eat, ok?" Steve got up, holding his hand out for Tony, waiting for him to take it. Tony looked around while walking to the kitchen. Steve's house was extremely small, it was all on one floor and it consisted of the bedroom, a small kitchen and what Tony could only assume was the bathroom. Tony sat at the rather small table while Steve fixed him a plate of pasta salad and sat next to him. Once he finished eating, Tony got up and reached for the door. "I-I have to go" But before Steve could reply, Tony collapsed on the floor. "It's late and dark, I think it's best if you spend the night here"

Despite wanting to leave the very first second he was conscious again, he soon realised that the quiet little fishermen's town and Steve's company were all he needed. Steve would go to work in the morning, before sunrise and would be back just in time to have breakfast with Tony and they would spend the rest of the day together. It was nice for Tony not to think about Mary for a while. But the dream had to come to an end, eventually. Tony had obligations and a multi billion dollar company to run waiting for him in New York. It was the beginning of September, the days were shorter and the nights were chiller. But it also meant that the town was quieter. Almost every last remaining tourist was leaving. In town there were only the fishermen and their families. Even they were starting to go back to their winter houses because the kids were going to start school in a few days. Soon Steve would be among the last remaining people in the town, with some old ladies. To them, Steve was a saviour, taking care of their groceries and their errands. That could only mean that it was the end of summer and, despite being the saddest time of the year for the residents, it also meant that the happiest days of the summer vacation were coming up. Every single free moment there was, was used to organise a more memorable feast than the year before. And Tony helped. Well, he mostly founded the feast, anonymously. He hadn't told Steve, nor anybody else, who he really was, he figured that, if no one recognised him, he would be nice to live like any other normal person for once. What he didn't take into consideration was the possibility that he could become attached to a certain muscular blond man.

The last night of the feast was also Tony's last night in Italy. He had already begged Pepper for more time, but she couldn't give him any more. There was live music and fresh seafood for everyone. Everyone was smiling, singing and dancing, celebrating the great summer they had. Tony was sitting at a table, a kid had just come to say goodbye. He was running out of time, and that little time he had, he wanted to spend it with Steve. "Steve" "Heeey Tony" He sounded slightly drunk. "I need to talk to you" Steve nodded and took his hand, walking him to the brickwork in front of the sea. "So, tell me" Steve was sitting facing the sea while Tony was facing the other way. "I'm leaving tomorrow" "I know" "I'm...not sure you know who I am" Steve looked at Tony. "You're Tony" "I am Tony Stark" "As in..." "Yes, as in Stark Industries" Steve sighed and looked back at the sea. "Ok" "Just ok?" Steve shook his shoulders. "Yeah, I don't care. It just explains how you could pay for everything" Tony giggled. "I don't want you to go, Tony" "Yeah, I don't want to go neither" Tony put his hand on Steve's. "Steve?" Steve hummed and slightly turned his head towards Tony. "Ithinkimfallingforyou" Steve giggled. "What?" Tony inhaled deeply. "I think I'm falling for you. Deep, like really deep" Steve smiled and caressed his hand. "I fell for you a long time ago, Tony" Steve turned to Tony, sitting astride the brick wall. He put a hand on Tony's cheek. "Can I kiss you?" Tony nodded, biting his lip. Steve put their lips together, pushing Tony back, making him lay on the wall and standing over him, while Tony threw his hands around Steve's neck. Tony mumbled. "What are we going to do?" Steve rolled his eyes "I don't know. We'll think about that tomorrow, now shut up and kiss me" Tony smiled, biting his lip again. Steve smiled and kissed Tony, trying to gain access to his mouth, that Tony kept denying. Steve bit Tony's lip and Tony gasped and Steve, catching the opportunity, slid his tongue into Tony's mouth, feeling Tony's body relax under his touch. Everything was going to be fine, the end of the summer meant the beginning of a life together.

[stay-tinystars]

Rumors: pt 1

Ship: Yeosang x Named female character (Jae Hwa)

College AU. 'Bad' girl x shy studious Yeosang.

Some fluff, some angst, mostly slice of life, a bit chaotic

Warnings: overly controlling parents, rumors, cursing, motorcycle.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: this is a short series. I hope you all enjoy it. I'm trying out different writing styles as I get back into writing so I hope you enjoy.

All of this is pure fiction.❤

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" He whispered tentatively behind her.

"We aren't doing anything wrong. We're fine." she whispered back.

"Then why are we whispering?" He questioned.

"I don't know, you're the one who started whispering" she giggled softly.

They quietly made their way through the dark, slowly weaving through the trees following the path, the half moon slightly lighting their way. The soft sound of their feet against the dirt encompassing them.

"We're almost there, I promise" she said reaching back her hand. He grabbed it tightly, she could feel his heart pounding, as her fingers intertwined with his.

The path opened to a beautiful clearing overlooking the city. The stars visible above them. She smiled as she looked at him, his eyes got big as he looked up, his mouth slightly agape.

"Wow" was all he could say. He never thought sneaking out with his girlfriend would be so unique. Most people sneaking out to parties, his girlfriend snuck him out to go stargazing. She pulled the backpack off her back, and pulled out two blankets. She spread one out in the clearing, and put the other over her lap as she sat down. He laid on the blanket next to her, and she smiled as she draped the blanket over him as well and laid down, her head on his chest.

The stars twinkled in the midnight sky, as they cuddled. She was the yin, to his yang.

He was the shy studious type. His bleached hair, and picturesque features made him the talk of the town. His laugh and smile lit up the whole campus when he joked with his friends. 

She was the trouble maker. Labeled a rebel with her short bright purple undercut hair, eyebrow piercing, and motorcycle. Everyone judged her by her looks, except him. 

----- three months earlier-----

"She just thinks she owns the place" Jen scoffed, stirring her iced coffee with her straw.

"I know, she just storms in every place she goes, her boots clanking on the floor as she stomps everywhere." Jens best friend Rose added, as they both eyed her from across the dining hall.

Yeosang was shocked, everyone at this college seemed to have it out for her. They all gossiped about her, her apparent 'bad behavior', that he'd never seen. Also everyone's rumors of her were different. The only thing he knew for sure was her name was Jae Hwa, or Jae, and she rocked her short purple undercut far better than any other girl could. Sure her resting face was a bit..... harsh, but some people said the same about him. After he heard yet another rumor from the next table over, he decided to go see what she's all about for himself. Yeosang stood up quickly, he had to do this before he changed his mind. He started towards her, ignoring the questions from his friends at the table he just abandoned.

She was leaning her chair back, on two legs, against the brick wall of the dining hall, eating a sandwich, while doing something on her phone. She was preoccupied in her own little world, and why shouldn't she be. This school was full of gossip, which just annoyed her. She was here to study, how else was she going to get into the school she was really aiming for.

Yeosang approached her table when he started questioning everything. What if that prison rumor was true? Or that one about eating a live duck. She didn't look heartless enough to eat a live animal. What was he doing? He didn't know her. She definitely didn't know him. What was he going to say? It's not like he should start a conversation with 'I heard rumors about you, and wanted to know if they were true.'

He stopped a few steps away from her, maybe if he turned back now she wouldn't see him. She looked up at him, cocking her eyebrows, the metal gracing her right brow glinting with the movement. "Can I help you?" She petitioned.

He was a deer in the headlights, he was trapped. Her stare was slightly unnerving.

"I'm Yeosang" he stated, mentally slapping himself. This was not what he intended.

"I know." she replied, leaning her chair forward, letting it hit the ground with a bang. She leaned forward, onto the table. Her bright eyes bore into his. "How can I help you, Yeosang?"

He heard people start to gossip behind him, as she stared him down. He took a few steps and sat at an empty chair at her table.

"I was wondering if I could join you." He seemed unsure of his own words.

A smirk graced her lips.

"Well, looks like you already did" her voice had a playful tune to it, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I was wondering what your majoring in?" He asked, trying to seem natural in this awkward situation he had caused.

"Biomedical science" she responded dryly, he was intrigued.

"I didn't know we had that here"

"This university doesn't, but it's close to home, and gives me the prerequisites I need to get into the school I want."

He nodded, a soft smile gracing his statuesque face.

The conversation deepened after that. He explained he was currently doing a computer sciences major, but was thinking of changing to something to do with International relations, or something so he would have the chance to meet people from around the world. They then started to talk about anything and everything, like how she had gotten a motorcycle because it was cheaper on gas. How his best friend was constantly trying new recipes, and making him try them, which most of the time ended in disaster. Their laughter was interrupted by her phone going off.

She looked at it and cursed. "I'm late for that stupid lecture." she grumbled, quickly shoving things into her bag. "This was nice, thanks." She gave a quick wave as she practically ran out of the dining hall. He looked around to see the hall had mostly emptied, and realized he himself was late for class.

"So you have a thing for bad girls now?" Wooyoung asked as Yeosang sat down at their usual table local Cafe, with his coffee.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"He's talking about how you ditched us all without saying a word then went and talked to Jae for who knows how long." San smirked, sipping his coffee.

"She's not a bad girl. She's really nice." Yeosang retorted.

"That's not what I heard," Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. Yeosang felt a small flame alight inside him, it was as if some part of him had to protect her.

"That's the problem, everyone talks about her, I want to actually know her." Yeosang started, his voice calm, but his eyes enraged. "Everyone at this stupid university just gossips, and spreads rumors. You guys should know that better than anyone.  Seonghwa, remember when the rumor started that you broke up with some girl over her not eating your kimchi fried rice?" His eyes became pointed at his friend, Wooyoung scoffed, Yeosang turned on his best friend. "Do you remember when we started as freshman, and everyone was claiming you had, not one but three different clones. None of which knew how to drive a car, two of which didn't speak."

"Yeah, rumors are weird" Wooyoung noted as he looked intensely at his coffee. Yeosang took a deep breath in. Where did that come from? He asked himself, as he looked at his friends. San just stared in awe, as did Mingi. Seonghwa just looked everywhere but Yeosang, and Wooyoung continued to stare at his coffee. Maybe it was a slight guilt Yeosang saw in his best friends eyes. No one should take rumors at face value.

Living at home while going to school was great for saving money. While it worked great for Jae, her parents were supportive of just letting her live her life, and pursue her dreams.

It didn't work so well for Yeosang. His parents were strict, he had a curfew even though he was a legal adult. He also had rules to follow, and he did what his parents wanted him to for school, and for work. Aside from his friends which his parents reluctantly approved of, it seemed as if Yeosangs parents controlled every aspect of his life.

"You just don't get it, your parents let you move out, and do what you want at school. I'm stuck here" Yeosang complained as he leaned on the counter at the small restaurant Wooyoung worked at.

"I've told you to inform them it's your life, and to just move in with Seonghwa, and I." Wooyoung chided as he cleaned another table. Yeosang groaned, stirring his water with the straw placed in the cup.

"Eh, Seonghwa I could handle, you not so much"

"Shut up" Wooyoung threw the dry towel on his shoulder at Yeosang.

"I better head to work" Yeosang groaned.

Work was boring for Yeosang, sure it paid well, but working at the call desk, at the fanciest hotel in the city was never in his plans. Most of the calls he just redirected to the correct department. His favorite part of his shift was when it ended, and he got to walk out of the hotel.

Tonight was like most other nights in early spring; a chill in the air, the scent of cherry blossoms starting to bloom wafting over from the park next to the hotel. Yeosang started his walk towards the subway when he saw a small fluffy dog running towards him excitedly, his leash trailing behind him. Yeosang bent down, and held out his hand to the dog, who approached him, and immediately started licking his hand.

"Bong, get back here!" A voice yelled from within the park, he turned and saw Jae running towards them. Her eyes widened as she saw Yeosang.

"Cute dog you have here." Yeosang said, handing her the leash.

"Thank you for catching him. The little stinker ran off when I was tying my shoe. I guess I didn't have the leash under my foot well enough." She explained with a shrug.

"He just wanted to go on an adventure" he commented, as he bent down. Bong nuzzled his head into Yeosangs palms as he pet him. "What kind of dog is he?"

"He's a cavapoo, well at least that's what the shelter said when I adopted him." She bent down as well. Bong was in heaven, enjoying the pets and loves from two people at the same time, his tail whipping back and forth, as he rolled onto his side.

She never expected Yeosangs kindness. Everyone else she encountered avoided her, but he always smiled at her when the rest would stare, and whisper.

They ended up walking the park and talking for over an hour, the park slowly emptying of people as the hour grew later. He found out she worked at the animal shelter, feeding and taking care of the animals in the back. He explained his boring job he had, and ended up venting about his family situation. She was grateful for a friend, and he was grateful for her listening ear. 

When his phone started ringing, he saw who was calling and the time his face paled.

"Hello" he answered reluctantly.

"Where are you" 

"I got held up after work"

"You should've been home by now"

"I'm sorry, I will be home shortly"

"Your father and I expect more from you" the line went dead. Yeosang sighed heavily.

"Shit" he muttered, then let out an aggravated scream.

"I'm sorry" Jae said, watching him run his fingers through his hair. "I shouldn't have kept you." She stared at her feet, softly kicking at the grass.

"It's not you, I just" his voice fading as he stared off in the distance. "I just wish I had the courage and money to just move out. I just have to figure out how to live my own life." His voice soft yet determined.

Jae found herself softly touching his arm, trying to comfort him. Her timid touch brought him back to reality.

"The subway is going to take forever to get home"

"I live less than a block away, let's take Bong back to my place and I'll give you a ride" 

"I can't believe I'm riding bitch on a girls motorcycle" Yeosang muttered as she handed him her extra helmet.

"Well im not letting anyone else drive my baby" Jae laughed putting her own helmet on. She climbed on and started her blue bullet bike. "Climb on, wrap your arms around me and just lean with me around corners." She instructed. The city seemed to fly past, as they made their way towards his house.

"Stop here" he yelled.

"But your house is another block or so," she yelled back.

"My parents are already ready to kill me, I can't imagine what they would do if they saw me get off a motorcycle" he hollered. She shook her head as she stopped, and turned off her bike. He thanked her and handed back the helmet.

"You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, feel free to text me" she stared at the ground, her sudden shyness was intriguing. She usually held more of a hard expression, this one seems vulnerable. He smiled.

"I'd love to, but I need your number first" he teased. He could see her cheeks darken through her helmet, as he handed her his phone. She quickly added her number.

He smiled widely as he made his way towards home. He didn't look forward to what would happen once he arrived home, but he looked forward to texting her later.

[straight-to-the-pain]

Human Shield

Alright, it's like 3am and I had no idea how to end this, but here is my @whumptober2019 submission for day 4! Basically, this is how Bea became a vigilante and met her girlfriend. Enjoy!

Bea had always taken the same route home from uni, even though many people had tried to discourage her from taking her regular shortcut. Whatever they tried to tell her about the dangers that lurked in the moonlit park, and the attackers that hid behind trees, Bea wasn't deterred.

Her class had finished a while ago, but she stayed in the library until after dark, poring over textbooks and research papers until she felt her head grow heavy and her eyes glaze over. The research was interesting, of course it was, but mostly Bea just wanted an excuse to not go home, to not have to deal with the constant weight of grief hanging over her the flat that she shared with her brother.

As she walked, she hummed softly to herself, listening to the crunch of the autumn leaves under her feet, and the quiet whistling of the wind between the branches. Just as she was about to turn into the alley leading to her flat, Bea heard voices in the darkness.

She paused, ducking behind a corner so she could figure out what was going on. The route had always been empty, but now she could make out two distinct voices coming from the shadows. It took all her effort to keep her breathing steady and her hands from shaking as she began to understand what was going on.

"Please, leave me alone," came a woman's voice, desperate and scared, but full of a fierce intensity that made Bea's heart beat faster in her chest. "I'm not going with you," the woman shouted. "I never want to see you again!"

Then there came a harsh, loud noise, like a hit, followed by a sharp cry, and in that moment, Bea knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't do something. She couldn't save her mother, but maybe she could still help this girl. Whatever happened to her, maybe it would be worth it in the end.

She could feel the rising sparks in her hands, the growing warmth that was by now familiar and still, in no way easier to control or understand. As her anger and fear increased, so did the heat, until flames danced at her fingertips and in her eyes.

"You better listen to me, bitch," came a man's voice, laced with anger and hatred, "or you'll get what's coming to you." And when Bea heard that, there was no longer any thought, only the fire in her hands, and the anger in her heart, and before she knew it, she was between them, looking straight into the man's furious eyes.

"Did you not hear what she said?" Bea demanded, voice echoing in the narrow alley. "She wants to be left alone, and you're going to do just that."

At her words, the man simply laughed. "Do you really expect me to take orders from some girl with a couple magic tricks?" he retorted with derision.

That was the last straw. Bea shoved the man back until his head hit the wall with a crack, and the flames burned through his shirt. She watched him scream as his skin started to singe, writhing and struggling to get out of her fiery grip. But Bea wasn't done. Her hand snaked around the man's neck instead, pressing him firmly against the brick and cutting off his screams, charring his skin and blocking his air supply. She found that instead of horrifying her, the pleading expression in his eyes and his choked off whimpers only served to fuel the flames at her fingers.

A quiet whimper from behind wrenched Bea out of her fury, and the man crumpled to the ground as she released his throat. She turned around to the girl, not giving her attacker another glance. Her lip was bleeding, and Bea passed her a handkerchief to dab at the cut on her cheek.

"A-are you okay?" she asked quietly, even though it was clear that she was not. The girl flinched slightly, looking up at Bea warily, and with a start, Bea realised that her fingers were still glowing gently, like embers after a bonfire. She balled her hands into fists, willing the fire to retreat, not wanting to scare the girl any more than she already had.

Bea extended a hand, and was glad when the girl accepted. "I'm Bea, by the way," she said, shaking her hand with a smile. "Sorry, I know this is a slightly unconventional introduction. I'll uh... call an ambulance, tell them we found him like this?" she suggested.

"I'm Ellie," the girl replied with a shaky smile of her own. "And thanks."

And when Bea offered her a cup of tea at her flat, Ellie didn't refuse. They walked home together, still holding hands, not sparing a glance at the barely conscious man lying behind them.