#Kane likes his pigtails

[tessathegamefreak]

Fix-it Felix AU cast? Meet Mocha! A fusion between Lyra and Bam! Their reactions?

OOC: Also drawn by @redscorpiocat

AU Felix: Hmmm... Bam is Dexter's friend so... Mocha might be a problem for me...

AU Ralph: Oooh, fuzzy squirrel, hehes! ^^

Kane Candy: Oh, well I have no mocha to offer Mocha, but I do have hot chocolate

Scientist Calhoun: Well, you look like a reckless fusion. Not sure if I could trust this fusion in the testing labs

The Princess and Servant:

Princess Vanellope: Hmm, you seem a bit troublesome, though I hope it's the kind of trouble I like, hehe

Not-So Sourbill: Yep. Just don't do anything that'll land you in the Fungeon!

The Troublesome Trio:

Adorabeezle: Hmm, I like this fusion's pigtails; they are so puffy

Gloyd: Yep. They look like they are a lot of fun as well!

Snowanna: I want to pet your tail~ *she chuckles*

Turbo: Hm.. Well, hi Mocha...

#wreck it ralph #ask #fix it felix au! #kane candy #fix it felix #princess vanellope von schweetz #not so sourbill #scientist calhoun

[deathschool]

10, 23, and 34 for p101 meme?

*goes to sleep immediately after posting an ask game* Um. Hi guys good morning

10: what does your flag look like? what are your crew colors?

OK SO All of my pirates are different ocs and i give them all different flags. So ill send my 2 fav oc ones :P and describe what i would make MINE (checkerboard print, aqua/purple, that winged heart symbol in all black to look like the clandestine bartskull. teehee)

1 is my oc mina's flag, her colors r teal and black! 2 is my oc catalina's flag, his colors r purple and yellow :]

23: show us your pirate and tell us a bit about them

IM GONNA DO A READMORE HERE BC THIS STUFF GOT REALLLLY LONG. SORRY

Omg ok like i said theyre all ocs soo let me grab a screenshot of my like whole crew loading page.

so jsyk NONE of their outfits are what theyd actually wear (excluding catalinas robe). I dont stitch in pirate HAHA

far left is an old oc some ppl may recognize, her name is hope loomis! Shes a (lvl 70) witchdoctor, blind, and captain of a pirate crew. shes no longer my main oc but i still love her and her crew :P

Since hes relevant to her ill go out of order and say him now: the one in the middle is lawrence nightingale, part of hope's crew, her best friend, a musketeer. (Hes my main pirate for playing, hes lvl 70) He has a bit of a sour disposition and he and hope argue a lot but they care for each other a lot. I also ship him with kane hehehe

Ok middle left is catalina, like i mentioned earlier. Actually ive posted him before, hes a catalan shapeshifter who likes to pretend to be a human amongst people to troll them mostly teehee :P hes a (lvl 46) witchdoctor in game but in his lore he just knows some magic.

Next to catalina is the aforementioned Mina mitchell, shes a (lvl 65) swashbuckler and an emo girl. I dont have much lore for her to be honest but shes just so cute and awesome. She has spiky short twin pigtails. I think ive posted a drawing of her on this blog before under her tag mina

Middle right (orange) is Maeve, shes part of my new main crew! (The other 2 arent in game) shes a (lvl 7, bc i KEEP REMAKING MY BUCKS) buccaneer. Shes also part fox and from marleybone! shes really cool and awesome and sweet and shes best friends with shannon (leader of her crew).

Right is Stormy Edwards, hes kinda new and also his character looks nothing like his actual design lol other than that hes green. Hes a privateer (lvl 7, again i keep remaking themmmm) and hes EVIL!<3 he also has a toxic gay thing going on with vito (witchdoctor with maeve and shannon) and hes just kinda fucked up :P

34: what are the hardest and easiest parts of the game for you?

OK SOOOOO I love the strategy of it all TBH. It was really hard at first but ive picked it up pretty well i think. The hardest part was figuring out how to do gear correctly and what stats to prioritize, which im probably still not perfect at but i think ive gotten it down now. I also hate ship fighting 😭 But yeah easiest is probably just combat i love it i love the battle system. And to be MORE specific ranged combat is easiest for me.

SORRY THIS ONE GOT SO LONG HAHAH BUT TYYY<3

#ask game #im gonna tag all the ocs i mention in here lolol #mina #catalina #hope #lawrence #maeve #stormy

[captaincatalinasilver]

Kane likes his pigtales!

Bishop is a little jealous to say the least.

Hmm? You want to see more of this? Well I will just leave the link to my drunk Kane ask blog: @theredwineau

#bishop is not amused #p101 #pirate101 #my art #hope you enjoy #quick doodle #pitty101 #kane #memes #drunk kane #red wine #I love bishop man #bishop has eyebrows and I’m not letting this go #bishop #adventures of drunk kane #the drunk supreme commander #drunkkane #red wine AU #pirate101 memes #Kane likes his pigtails #it makes him feel beautiful okay #if chef don’t judge then neither should you #sassy bishop #Kane’s new hair style 😳

[kanerboo]

the 1988 mating dance

(thanks for the vid @luxnowell!)

#1988 #hockey otp #patrick kane #little ice dancer #jonathan toews #oh captain #get a room #get married #i mean seriously... you guys are not subtle #and even when they're horsing around like this #jonny is so gentle with patrick #doesn't shove him or crush him into the boards #isn't rough with him the way he would be with the other guys #just a soft and gentle hand on his back #(or ass?) #all that easy affectionate touching #pigtail pulling #jonny always needing his patrick's attention #mating dance #my gif

[inamindfarfaraway]

Ideas for the Gauthier-Duong siblings’ akumatized forms:

Kane - Bondsmith

Kane wants to have people’s loyalty and positive regard - themes of entrapment and possession

Has just been denied the love of his stepsister and the right to more family than his mother

Goal is to trap Alison, Noah and Estelle as his loving family - the last push Estelle needs to accept becoming a superhero, because she may typically choose flight rather than fight to defend herself but nobody threatens her dad

Truly loves them and thinks this is the only way for them all to be happy; has a disturbing version of his sweet, excitable kid demeanour

Akumatized item is a keychain with an old photo of him and Alison on it, initially taken off his schoolbag, worn hanging from his akumatized form’s chain necklace with the now blackened photo embedded in his chest armour

Kane acts and seems to Estelle like a ‘golden boy’, wanting to be perfect and make people think he’s perfect to ensure they’ll stay with him (to protect his feelings), his whole outward personality reflecting that, and repressing his negative emotions, now released in full force - wears shiny gold plate armour, a gold mask shaped in a cheerful expression, and black underclothes and tarnished grey skin the armour cannot completely hide

Chain motif representing the possession of people he wants for himself and connections he wishes to preserve and enforce on others - lots of chain accessories, web of chains across his chest converging over the photo that prevents the heroes just pulling it out

Power is to bind people together with magical chains that he can mentally alter the length of - as well as physically restricting movement, gold ones make them get along with the other person and black ones make them reflexively dislike them, affecting only emotions, not thoughts, so people forced to feel good or bad about each other can still name reasons they shouldn’t in a detached, logical way; his plan to get the Miraculous is simply to chain the heroes directly to himself and compel them to give him their Miraculous, since his power doesn’t affect him

Bowerbird defeats him by using Ladybug’s Lucky Charm, a smoke bomb, to obscure his vision (Ladybug and Cat Noir are incapacitated, a black chain between them making them too busy arguing to focus), using her vocal mimicry to trick him into thinking she’s Alison so he lets his guard down, restraining his attacking arm with a perfectly timed Masterpiece before he can attach the chain to her, shackling his other arm with it, breaking the chain net with her paintbrush and smashing the photo

Estelle - Echo

Estelle wants to be listened to - themes of voice, sound and hearing

Feels disregarded and disrespected by her birth parents, especially Violette, and has her trauma from their divorce ripped up to the surface

Goal is to share her sense of loss of stability, security, control and agency with everyone else out of vengeful spite

Bitter, sullen, temperamental, sardonically mocking, essentially Estelle’s worst exaggerated

Akumatized item is her headphones, fused to her head and turned purple with red handprints ‘holding’ the earphones and three jagged crystalline red spikes on the band, constantly blasting music which is generated by her own emotional magic loud enough to faintly be heard externally

Her parents were her entire world and their fighting and divorce her world decaying and crumbling - power affects her environment

Pink skin, long floaty purple dress, long light green hair in pigtails and purple eyes - the colours, clothing and hairstyle she liked and wore frequently when she was eleven, during the divorce, as just prior to akumatization she felt no less helpless than she did then

Motif of red handprints gripping her arms and legs at multiple angles, symbolic of her feeling pulled carelessly and incompatibly in different directions

Doesn’t speak, a red gag stifling her voice

Power is to affect her surroundings through the music she listens to within a radius that expands as her strengthening emotions increase the volume; it differs depending on the genre, her psychological state automatically changing it: a mournful classical track turns the ground into bottomless quicksand (sadness), an aggressive rock song creates indestructible red crystal spikes (anger) and a rousing pop song lets her emit sparkly white light in burning lasers and blinding flashes (joy/confidence)

Bowerboy defeats her by, after repeated frontal attacks fail, realizing the best way to help his sister and save the day is to follow Ladybug’s plan, and distracting her from the safety of a bower while Cat Noir sneaks up to deliver a Cataclysm to the headphones

If they were akumatized in their superhero forms, Estelle would be Flame Bowerbird with a colour scheme based on that species instead of the satin bowerbird and Kane would be Killer Whale, switching the grey and white great white shark for its bigger, more intelligent predator the black and white orca.

#estelle needs to learn that she CAN DO THINGS #and be good at things #and just be good #so she gets to beat bondsmith basically all on her own #meanwhle kane needs to learn that he CAN’T DO EVERYTHING #and to accept his limits and flaws without writing himself off as wholly bad #and he stops just feeling hurt on her behalf and thinks ‘what would estelle do?’ and the answer is to care about the plan #so he plays support in the final battle #also echo is named for how noah and violette fighting and ignoring her feelings ‘echoes’ the divorce period #and in reference to the echo of greek mythology who wasted away to just her voice because she wasn’t loved #mlb ocs #miraculous ladybug ocs #miraculous ocs #akumatized ocs #akumatization

[girlpi]

Hair

Ever since she was young Veronica had blonde, curly hair. Well into childhood the curls were unable to be tamed, often clipped back or pulled into pigtails as an attempt to make it look like either parents knew what to do with them. As she grew older, they relaxed, and by the time she was around ten her hair had fallen into a wave pattern, often kept cut right at her shoulders. It wasn’t until junior high that she first straightened her hair at the advice of Lilly Kane. The pin-straight locks made it easier to see butterfly barrettes and scrunchies. So, Veronica followed Lilly’s lead, her once short and textured hair now growning longer and kept straight at the expense of Lianne’s flat iron. It stayed that way into high school as well - Lilly always said she looked more mature, hotter even, and so Veronica listened.

When Lilly died there had been some itch to cut the locks she worked so hard to maintain, but her best friend’s voice always echoed in the back of her mind, protesting against the short style Veronica was picturing. So - she spent a few more months with hair down to her back, a shield to hide with, plain and boring and unnoticable just as she wanted until the world became a bit darker. With Shelly Pomeroy’s part - subsequently the worst night of Veronica’s light at that point - came the incessant need to get clean. Scalding showers and constant weren’t enough, so her hair finally fell victim to the aftermath, chopped with kitchen scissors in her bathroom.

Her bob was often kept straight, bangs falling into her face, or locks tied back into short braids or pigtails, even tucked underneath hats, but the new short hair was in a way freeing - weight now off her shoulders as she was finally able to reinvent herself. No longer the Veronica Mars everyone preferred to spit at than smile, she’d be a force to be reckoned with now. And the more she found herself the more she found the self love she had been searching for, a noticeable change coming as more turmoil hit - back and forth between Duncan and Logan, Aaron’s trial, Cassidy’s crimes - her hair returning to it’s natural wave, the way she always liked it best.

That was how it stayed through most of her young adult life as well… shoulder length, wavy, and frazzled in the morning when bedhead was at its best. But there was always a regression during moments when things got tough or she didn’t feel like enough - her breakup with Logan, and her relationship with Piz - the straight hair would make a comeback, the belief that this was truly what others preferred driving the change. Even well into her twenties, after acing the Bar exam and graduating with her master’s in law from Columbia, she still felt the need to straighten her hair, particularly for internships and interviews when she needed to seem professional. Lilly said it made her look more mature, so she adopted the straight-haired persona as a part of her while she built the new, pristine life outside of Neptune that she had always dreamt of.

It was Logan who mentioned it first - while his love for the curls had always been apparent, their return to Neptune was coupled with the reminder that he liked her better when she was herself. Better, when her hair was untamed and her jacket was leather and she wore an old, worn out bag on her shoulders. He knew that this was the version of herself that Veronica liked best, the one she always secretly longed to be, and it was his comment that reminded her just how amazing that Veronica was. A total badass, even. With their return came the official breakup with the her desire to look and play a part she wasn’t fit for. The return of the curls he loved to brush his fingers through, and a sense of self she hadn’t realized she had missed so dearly.

#* veronica mars. » development

[raven-reyes-of-sunshine]

Singing love is forever and ever (well I guess that was true) 

1997 Monty Green and Harper McIntyre meet on the first day of preschool. It’s the first time Monty had done something without his best friend, Jasper, but he’s gone to a different school. He’s scared to go into the classroom alone and he is clinging to his mum’s leg, when a little blonde girl, with pigtails and a blue dress approaches him.

“You can come in with me,” she tells him, offering her hand. She’s holding her dad’s hand in the other and has a huge, excited smile on her face. It’s what gives Monty the courage to walk into the class, hand in hand with the little girl he’s never met.

Their parents leave shortly after and Monty barely notices, too distracted by the girl who is teaching him how to build the tallest block towers that don’t fall over. He learns her name is Harper. And she quickly becomes his first school friend.

Their teacher, Mrs Kane, let’s them sit next to each other on the mat and then at lunch time, Harper shares her sandwich and he gives her some of his fruit. She doesn’t like cheese, so she doesn’t have half of his. Monty vows never to bring cheese on his sandwiches again, so they can always share, even though they’re his favourite. He’ll just have them when he gets home.

*

After a few months, their parents organise their first play date. Monty has never been to anyone’s house for a play date except Jasper’s and he’s excited to find that Harper lives really close. He could ride his bike there when he gets old enough.

His mum reminds him that she might want to play with dolls and he shrugs when she tells him to be nice. He’d be happy to play whatever she wanted because he knows that after that, they’d play what he wants. And anyway, he likes playing house. It’s fun.

Harper wants to go exploring though, so her mum says they can play in the woods behind the house, as long as they stay where they can see the back fence. They scamper outside excitedly, finding big sticks to use as trekking poles and bringing out paper and crayons to draw a map.

Of course, it only takes five minutes for them to find a trail. Harper promises her mum won’t come outside and they won’t get caught, so she manages to convince Monty they should follow it. It’s not very long, but they draw it onto their map as they walk, adding the tree that looks like it has arms.

At the end of the path, they find an abandoned car. It doesn’t have any wheels or license plates and Harper immediately declares it magic, running forward to open the door. Monty is a little apprehensive but Harper is never scared of anything, so he follows her forward. It’s fairly clean inside, compared to what it looks like on the outside and that makes Monty feel better. They draw the car onto the map in bright red crayon and add an X underneath.

“This is our secret spot,” Harper whispers, even though there is no one around. “In this magic car.”

On AO3 here.

#marper #monty green #harper mcintyre #it's been an awful long time since i've been on tumblr #and an even longer time since i've written anything #but i heard this song today and had all sorts of nostalgic feels #for these characters and this dumb show #so i mashed an old fic together with this idea and this is what happened #just a whole lot of marper as childhood friends with various delinquent friends #and lots of fluff #mymoodboards #elyse writes

[shinobirain24]

Hard to Get

By wolfstyle2074

It was the first year of Beacon Academy. Team VVKS have sat in the cafeteria for lunch. All in their uniforms after combat class with Professor Goodwitch. Team leader Valerie Rose, Tristan Vasilias, Kai Wukong and Sai Xiao Long. They were talking about an ongoing concert.

"Ever heard of a charity concert for Mantle going on in Amity Arena?" Sai asked. While Kai is munching on a banana, listening to the conversation next to Tristan. "Totally. Mom always says I have a voice of awesomeness when it comes to rock and roll. Kai and I have been practicing while we were at Sanctum Academy. We are the Shark Fangs!" Tristan then climbs to the top of the table alongside Kai.

"Shark Fangs!" Cheered Kai.

And they shook their heads around. While causing a scene when their classmates are watching. Much to Valerie's embarrassment. She have to pull the two boys back down to their seats. "Guys, sit down. You're making a scene here." She sighs.

"Oh, lighten up Val. This concert if going to rock. And you and me are taking home the crowd tonight!" Sai raises her fists. Her hair glowed as her eyes went from lime green to red. "Well, it's the weekend, guess a little fun wouldn't hurt." Valerie said. While continuing to read her book. Suddenly, a dark skinned girl caught Tristan's eyes. Dark curly hair and a black crop top and leather pants. And cat ear headphones.

"Whoa." Muttered Tristan. He then nudges at Kai. "Dude, is that who I think it is?" Kai then glances at the young woman who sat with her own team. "Isn't that Dana Coal?" Dana is actually a childhood friend of Tristan and Kai. They love making trouble together during her visit in Argus. When they were 7-years-old.

"I haven't seen her since she moved to Vale. And she has gotten hotter." Tristan adds.

"You know her, Tris?" Asked Sai. While checking her scroll for a great soundtrack to listen to. "Oh yeah, her dad owns a night club at Vale. Best of the best. The staff knows boundaries. Kai and I used to kick butt with her sometimes when she came to Argus." Said Tristan.

"Plus, she knows a lot of dance-fighting. Which makes her skills incredible to become a huntress." Kai adds. "Don't get us wrong. She's actually cool when you get to know her."

"Oh, that club. Sai used to come here sometimes. It was totally cool." Valerie says. Tristan then brushed his spikey white hair that was combed to the right and geared with goggles above his eyes. And went over to the table where Dana and her team are sitting on.

"He's not going to do it, isn't he?" Sai shook her head. Knowing he would flirt with every girl he met. Only for some to either reject him, or to accept his invitation for a date. Kai nods his head excitedly as he watched. "Oh yeah, he's going for it."

Tristan then stops in front to greet the female team. Known as Team DSCO (pronounced: disco). The second girl is a tanned skinned person with long pigtails and a light blue jumpsuit, Bianca Sync. The third girl has short pink hair, long sleeved midriff, and ripped jeans, Celica Moria. The fourth girl has visors, dusk hair and a silver top and golden skirt with matching go-to boots, Olivia Kane.

"Hey, ladies. I hope you don't mind if I can greet you for a bit. S'up, Dana? Haven't seen you since we were 7." He winked. As they took notice. "Hey, D, you know this cutie?" Asked Olivia.

Dana nodded to Olivia who was dazing at the white haired, dark blue eyed boy. "Nice seeing you again, Tris. Wow, have you grown." Dana smiled while. "How's your dad doing?" He asked.

"He is doing great. Never miss a beat in his entire life while fighting Grimm. He managed to win Gramps back his dust shop." Dana's grandfather originally owns a dust shop in Atlas, until it was shut down. But her father won it back. "Really? That's great. So I was thinking you and I could practice some tunes like we used to back at Sanctum." Asked Tristan as he placed his palm on the table while facing Dana.

She earned the awed looks from her team. But she politely declined. "Sorry, pretty boy. But I already have a band of my own. Cause Team DSCO are gonna rule the night on the weekend." She said. They all stood up and was about to leave to practice their songs. "I gotta go. Can't be late for practice. I'll see you and Kai around." She waved and left with her team. "Nice seeing you again too, Kai. Sorry but I gotta run." She glances at Kai, who waves back.

"See you around, cutie!" Olivia chirped and waved to Tristan and left with Team DSCO.

Kai then came from behind while still eating a banana. "Dude, you okay? Cause from what I am seeing, you're getting rejected." He asked.

"One thing I like about women is that sometimes they're hard to get. In Dana's case, she's hot, but also pretty fierce. So that's good right? You'll understand for when you get a date." Said Tristan as he stares at Dana. "Besides, it's like what Dad said. It's not the outside that counts, it's the inside that counts to get to know a girl better." Kai pats him in the shoulder in response.

#rwby fanfic #rwby #RWBY NEXT GEN

[viragoseries]

95 for Valentina, please? ^^

Thanks for the ask my dear. I decided to do a little flashback with Valentina and her sister Annabel (belonging to the amazing @susiesamurai ) and it ended up being her meet-cute with Dick... oops. Without further ado here it is under the cut.

95. “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.”

This was the first night ever for a fourteen-year-old, walking house to house in the fancy cul de sac was pure hell. Thankfully she had convinced her Mother she didn’t need to wear a costume. There’d be no coming back from that embarrassment. She wasn’t the only one from her group out and about, she could see her friends all lined up for the haunted house at the end of the block.

“Come on Annie go knock on the door,” she told her little sister voice full of false cheer.

the seven-year-old blonde bounced up to the door, mini poodle skirt and pigtails bobbing the whole way, “Trick or treat!” she called out as soon as the door opened, smile bright and showing off her shiny new tooth that had finally grown in.

“Oh! Look how cute you are!” the woman at the door cooed before looking up at Valentina in one of her usual designer outfits, “and what are you dressed as?”

“Snotty bitch Mom in training,” Valentina wanted to say, “I’m not dressed up, just taking Annie around Mrs. Baxter,” she smiled like her etiquette lessons taught her.

Mrs. Baxter placed a full sized chocolate bar into Annabel’s bucket before pinching her cheek, “have a good night girls,” she smiled.

“What do you say Annie?” she prompted.

“Thank you Mrs. Baxter,” the cute little girl continued to beam at the housewife.

Valentina took the girl’s small hand before leading her away, “okay a few more houses and then we’re going down there,” she pointed to the line up of teens.

“Lenny? I don’t like haunted houses though,” the girl’s voice suddenly sounding much younger than her age.

“I promise it won’t be scary and I won’t let go of your hand,” she leant down and winked at her sister earning her a giggle.

“Pinky promise?” she asked holding out her tiny pinky.

“Pinky promise,” Lenny confirmed locking their fingers together.

It took another half an hour to finish all the houses and by that point Lenny was totally done. Annabel was dragging her feet at each house on purpose. That should have clued her into the little girl’s nerves but she was a selfish teenager who just wanted to be with her friends. They finally made it over to the line and found her friends still waiting.

“Have you gone yet?” Valentina asked still holding onto Annabel’s hand as the little girl looked up at the dark house.

“No, we were waiting for you,” the snotty self-imposed leader of their group Gemma told her, “didn’t realize you were going to bring your baby sister as an excuse though.”

Lenny immediately dropped the small hand she’d been holding, “I don’t need an excuse,” her chin immediately going up and her Mother’s etiquette lessons blaring in her ear, “nothing I can’t handle.”

Annabel looked up at her sister equal parts amazed at her bravery and hurt at the thought she might be holding Lenny back, “I’m not a baby,” she pouted under her breath.

“Too bad you don’t have a boyfriend to take you,” Gemma and her sidekicks giggled. 

Valentina hated that her Mother told her she had to be nice to these girls. Right now all she wanted to do was punch Gemma in her surgically straightened nose, “I don’t have anything to prove to you. I’m a Kane,” she felt her spine go ramrod straight, if only they knew the true meaning of that.

“Oh! We forgot! Are you going to throw money at the fake monsters and tell them not to scare you?” Gemma simpered.

Valentina was ready to drop-kick this girl into next year when something niggled at her brain. She looked behind her but Annabel was gone. Lenny flew into an immediate panic thinking back to what she was supposed to do in this situation. What if it was something to do with her Dad? Or hell even her Mom’s job wasn’t excused from kidnapping. Her heart rate ratcheted up when she heard a tiny scream come from the house.

She attempted to run straight for the house but Gemma’s jock boyfriend grabbed her, “what do you think you’re doing?” he laughed as he held her tight, she squirmed trying her best to get free all thought of her training out the window, “you should stay here and have some fun,” now he was breathing right into her ear.

She could feel her skin crawl as she got one arm free. She brought back her elbow about to break his nose when he was suddenly gone from her back. She looked behind her to see him lying flat on his back a smaller boy stepping on his throat.

“Didn’t you know that consent is sexy?” the dark haired boy asked with a smirk on his lips.

Valentina didn’t even wait to see what happened before running straight for the house, “Annie!” she screamed, desperation already tinging her voice, she was running from room to room while the actors continued to try to scare her.

Suddenly she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder and automatically grabbed it, flipping the person onto their back. Lenny’s eyes went huge as the boy from earlier lay on the ground attempting to catch his breath, “nice throw,” he rasped while sitting up, “too bad Todd back there didn’t get the same treatment.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not,” she sputtered, “I have to go.”

She tried to take off before he gripped her arm, “the scream came from that way,” he pointed and she didn’t question how he would know before she ran off again.

He was still holding her arm, guiding her through the turns until the stopped in front of a closet door and she could hear a whimper coming from it, “Annie?” she asked.

The door slammed open and Valentina crouch down just in time for the tiny blonde to fill her arms, “Lenny!” she cried into her neck, “you promised,” she wailed miserably.

“I know,” she tried her best not to break down, “I’m sorry,” the panic coming down and the mix of the adrenaline crash was making her dizzy.

Before she fell and took both of them down she felt the warm weight of someone holding her up, “is this okay?” he asked quietly his break tickling her shoulder.

Unlike when Todd grabbed her there was no squirm under her skin, only a warmth at the kindness of this strange boy, “yeah,” she answered never taking her eyes off her little sister, “thanks.”

It took the small group another fifteen minutes to make it out of the house. Lenny was balancing holding Annabel while the boy her her steady. He guided them all towards an expensive looking care before opening the door for the sisters.

“It doesn’t really have a backseat,” he explained blushing.

“That’s okay,” Lenny smiled at him, “pretty sure she fell asleep.”

She sat down cradling Annabel close as he got behind the wheel. The ride home was silent other than the occasional direction from Valentina. Annabel woke up as the car crunched up the gravel drive to the house. She sent her little sister in side knowing she would run straight to their Mother. Putting off that talk for a while was worth it.

“Thanks again,” she smiled slightly at him.

“You’re very welcome,” he smiled back holding out his hand, “I’m Dick Grayson.”

“Oh shit! I’m Valentina Kane,” she laughed at herself for forgetting her manners, “and have I mentioned that I fucking hate Halloween?”

Dick laughed along side her, “no but I think after tonight it’s a given.”

Valentina tucked some hair behind her ear, “I should probably go get this yelling over with,” she started to get out of the car.

Dick leaned over so he was closer, “I’ll see you tomorrow at school?” he asked a sudden shyness showing through.

“Absolutely,” this time her smile split her face it was so huge.

“Good because I might need back up with that bad ass throw when Todd tries to get revenge,” Dick looked like a small guy but she was starting to realize he didn’t really need help.

“I think you’ll be fine,” she winked, “but I’ll be there just in case. I didn’t get to break his nose like I wanted either.”

Dick laughed and pulled away from the curb with a smile on his face. Valentina looked up at the house that was more imposing than the haunted house was and made her walk up the stairs. She knew her Mom as going to be pissed but maybe it had been worth it, just maybe.

Hope you like it @heirsoflilith! 

[viceprints]

Teacher Vice

Summary: In an attempt to make Vice seem more friendly and approachable, HBH entertainment sends them off to volunteer at a local daycare. 

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2011

When people think of HBH’s first and only group, Vice, they think of evil, demonic men who are trying to corrupt their youth. Vice are vile, mean-spirited people who are using their demonic messages to slip into the subconscious of Korean youth. 

Despicable, horrendous, heinous. 

“Open wide! Here comes the airplane!~” Kane giggled as he scooped up a spoonful of apple sauce and pretended to fly it through the air. The small child in front of him giggled as well, opening his mouth wide. Kane held the spoon up to the boy’s mouth, feeding the applesauce to him.

“Mr. Kangdae,” One of the preschool teachers budged in politely. “We’d like the children to feed themselves, please.”  “Oh, yeah,” Kane blushed a little. “Sorry, we were just having some fun. Won’t happen again.” He apologized, handing the spoon over to the toddler. The woman smiled sympathetically before going over to supervise a group of children playing. It was the end of the day and a free period for kids to play, eat snacks, make crafts, etc. Their parents would be picking them up soon enough, so the last moments they had, the children decided to spend with the idols.

Kane looked around and watched in amusement as the line of little girls beside Cyth grew longer. They were all waiting patiently for him to style their hair. “How’s it going, hyung?” Kane asked.  “A game of salon turned into labored work.” Cyth explained, but the smile on his face told Kane that he didn’t mind braiding everyone’s hair for them. “Mr. Sungho, you’re French, right?” The girl who was sitting cross-legged in front of Cyth asked.  “Yes, I am.” He responded. “Can you do french braids?” She asked over her shoulder, a hopeful look on her face. How could Cyth turn her down? “I can try my best, but I’m not sure if it’ll look good.” He warned. The girl looked happy as ever as she turned around again. “Good luck, hyung.” Kane smirked. 

While his little friends ate their snacks, Kane let his eyes wander around the room a little more. “Does anyone have an answer...” Geonwu was holding up a flash card to a group of children on the rug. A bunch of hands shot in the air. “Oh, I saw Jisoo’s hand go up first.” Geonwu pointed to a young girl with pigtails.

“2 plus 3 equals 5!” She said gleefully. “Fantastic!” Geonwu grinned, reaching into his pocket to pull out a beaded bracelet. He must have made that earlier during their arts and crafts period. Judged by the size of his pocket, he had made a bunch of them. “I want one too!” A little boy whined. Geonwu tilted his head at the boy disapprovingly.  “If you get a question right, you can get a bracelet. Don’t worry, I have plenty for everyone.” Geonwu stated before starting his next round of trivia. 

A giggle of mirth made nearly everyone’s attention point towards the playground outside, just separated from the classroom by a screened-in door. Outside they could see Woodie being tackled by a bunch of kids. The teacher closest to Kane let out a gasp before hurrying outside to rescue him, even though Woodie didn’t look like he was being bothered much at all. 

A little ways away, Kane could make out M.H. with a group of boys. He was kicking a ball into the air and then watching as the group of kids chased after it. The game was halted when the teacher outside told everyone to come in, as pick up would be happening soon.

It was sad seeing the kids leave. After spending all morning and all afternoon with them, Kane didn’t want to say goodbye. Geonwu handed out the rest of his bracelets to the kids as they left. The bracelets had ‘VICE ♥ U” spelled out in block letters, connected together by a green and black string.  “Nice promo.” Cyth complimented as the kids walked away, showing off their bracelets to one another. Nice promo indeed. After their adventures at the daycare was uploaded, many parents of students commented and vouched for Vice, saying they were very kind and respectful people.

Nearly overnight people’s opinions on Vice started to change. Who knew all it took for a reputation change was to become a daycare teacher?

#kpop oc #oc kpop #idol au #idol oc #oc kpop idol #kpop idol oc #oc kpop group #original kpop group #fake kpop group #vice.dev

[snowgray]

Some Trash

A trashy tale: My silly Sims 4 legacy so far.

I started off with an adorable romantic lady named Hope. She had curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and her default outfit was a white crop top and black scalloped shorts. She also wore big heart earrings to let all the menfolk know she wants love. Her aspiration to start with was the good parent aspiration. It happened to be Winterfest just as the game was starting, and I’d read that Father Winter’s children got a buff, so Hope put her moves on Father Winter and got knocked up. She also met a hunky jogger, Kane, and he seemed like a much better long-term prospect than Santa. Kane was built like a brick house, with curly black hair, dark skin and dark brown eyes. Hope got his attention and he was super into her, so despite the complicating pregnancy, Kane accepted Hope’s proposal and moved right in. Hope had her first baby, Chloe, who took after Father Winter in appearance. Kane was a doting step-father when he wasn’t at his job with the SportsTeam. Hope took up gardening. Kane couldn’t keep his hands off of her, so she was quickly pregnant again. Their first child together was a daughter, Nadia. While Chloe was a creative kid, Nadia just wanted to run and play. She and her father got along well. Hope had her heart set on one more kid, and she and Kane had another daughter, Tatianna. Tati always wanted to be like her big sisters, and joined the Llama Scouts just like they’d done. Most baby siblings are a bit wild, but Tatianna was a perfect student and a great scholar. Her parents had become expert parents, and Tati benefited from their wisdom. Feeling that her family was full (and because I have WhickedWhims), Hope began taking birth control pills. For Chloe’s first day of high school, her loving stepfather bought her a bottle of Insta-Lean. Chloe had inherited her biological father’s jowly cheeks, though her outgoing personality meant she was popular with the boys, as did her frequent trips “out” to meet her biological father, who generally wandered off to flirt as soon as he’d waved hello to his child. Chloe’s funny face, unfortunately, made her an unwise choice to inherit the throne. Nadia was a beautiful teenager, with her mother’s blond hair, ruddy bronze skin, and features as angular as a supermodel. But she was a listless child, and rarely accomplished what she wanted to do. She lacked the skills to inherit the throne. Tatianna was sad to be left behind in elementary school. Despite his busy career as a professional athlete, Kane made time to play with her. Together, they built a scarecrow, and Tatianna talked to him nearly as often as her mother did. He almost seemed like a real person, and Hope’s garden flourished as if twenty hands were tending it. Fate cannot look at a happy family and feel happy himself, but he was kind and gentle to Hope. Just when she thought that her children were nearly able to care for themselves, she found herself pregnant again! Arianna was born with rich brown hair and sun kissed skin, and everyone was charmed by her. But her parents’ careers and a full house meant that she never quite got as much attention as her older sisters had. She’d eventually look for that attention in all the wrong places... As soon as Tatianna entered high school, she started turning heads. She was as fit as her father, and nearly a perfect clone of him, save for her sparkling blue eyes. She’d studied hard in elementary school, but the memory of her humble beginnings made her eager to earn money. Perhaps too eager... Chloe wanted a family as big as her mother’s, and the day she graduated from college, she eloped with her high school sweetheart, Bennet. They settled in to a small home across town, and they graced Hope with two granddaughters in quick succession. Nadia took a while to decide on a boyfriend, but goofy looking Louis made her laugh, and she finally consented to marry him after she got pregnant. Together, they had two sons and a daughter. They lived just around the corner, with Louis’ brother. Tatianna worked hard throughout high school. She studied too hard to find time for dating. She achieved her dream of becoming a top level Llama Scout, and scored straight As. Often, her scarecrow friend Patchy helped her with her chores and homework. She spent hours discussing her dreams with him, and one afternoon, she confessed her love. Patchy whispered that he loved her back, and they embraced. But their love could never continue the family line, though they certainly tried. Each afternoon, he sighed a soft farewell and headed back to his tree. Kane retired from his job as a professional athlete, having achieved his lifelong dream. He began to take an interest in repair and rocketry, and soon the house was full of unbreakable appliances. Hope’s gardening research led her to discover a tree with fruit worth its weight in gold. She began to work from home more often, writing scientific papers and bonding with her beehives. Arianna never took much of an interest in gardening, but Tati learned everything she could from her mother. Unable to be with her lifelong love, Tatianna gave in to a classmate who’d fallen for her. Cedric called her every day, and she finally went on a date with him. He looked like her father, and even had the same haircut, though his chipmunk cheeks reminded Tati of her half-sister's wretched biological father. Cedric wore her down, and, eager to move on with her responsibilities as heir, Tatianna married him.

Cedric was not an ideal spouse. He dreamed of being a writer, but, no matter how hard he worked at it, his books were always awful. He took a job as a writer during the day, and Tatianna decided to find a nighttime job so that one of them would be home for the children. The allure of the criminal world called to her, because she wanted to become truly wealthy. When Tatianna's first child arrived, though, her husband was at work. It was Patchy who panicked in fear for her labor, and who cooed at the baby whenever he had the chance. Tatianna's first child was a girl, Jeannie. With rich dark skin and adorable braided pigtails, she was a winning child. Kane and Hope taught her as much as Tati and Cedric did, and they were thrilled to have another little one in the house.

Winterfest rolled around, and Arianna started high school. Though she'd studied hard in elementary school, when she became a teenager, the hormones kicked in. Romance was all Arianna could think about! She greeted Father Winter (not her half-sister's father) with a friendly face at the fireplace. But when she bumped into him again out in the neighborhood, she turned on the charm. Whether it was her hormones or his lechery (or the autonomous behavior that I had turned on), who can say for sure. But Arianna became another teen pregnancy statistic when Father Winter knocked her up.

Kane and Hope were furious that their baby girl had become pregnant. Arianna tried to move in with her baby daddy, but though he called her often, his abode was nowhere to be found in any neighborhood. Ultimately, her kind sister Nadia took her in. Nadia had plenty of parenting experience, and her brother-in-law moved out to be with his new wife to make room for Arianna and her daughter. Chloe was having difficulties, too. She discovered that her once-loving husband had a woman on the side, and, more than that, he had a whole second family! She sent him packing, and found herself a single mother to two teenagers. Chole's behavior took a turn for the worse after her husband was gone. She could often be spotted out at clubs in the evening, and before long, she found herself about to become a mother again- without knowing quite who the father might be.

Despite her illegal occupation, Tatianna was a good mother. She wanted another child, and she and Cedric conceived a second time. Their charming baby boy, Phillip, was welcomed into a warm, loving home.

But all was not well. Kane's gray hair and stooped posture had long spoken of his advanced age. His bride, though younger than he was by a great deal, finally became elderly herself. Only a day after her seventh grandchild was born, the Grim Reaper came to visit Hope. Hope's husband and progeny panicked! Cedric, usually so useless and doofy, finally came to the rescue. He pleaded with the Grim Reaper, and Hope was spared. Her husband, relieved and thankful, fed her a concoction of his own devising that would help her remain alive. Hope also researched further into the plant world, and discovered a flower that, some whispered, could save a loved one from death. She gave the stinky blossoms to her daughter and grandchildren, just in case.

Phillip grew into a popular and gregarious child. Due to a hole in the space-time continuum (or a mod conflict), his sister Jeannie had a long and fruitful childhood. She was extraordinarily accomplished, and became unusually gifted in the creative arts as well as the mental ones. Phillip himself longed only for popularity. He befriended a classmate at school who was somehow, inexplicably (or because I just got the expansion) famous. Phillip loved the strangers who would appear out of nowhere to greet his friend. He dreamed of knowing as many people as his young buddy.

The pressure of Jeannie's young accomplishments began to weigh on her. When she started high school, she vowed that her life would change. Gone would be the days of slaving over homework and science fair projects! Instead, Jeannie had one goal: banging. She wanted to go on as many dates as she could fit in a day, and found herself tagging along with her brother and his famous buddy to look for "fans" to hit on. She dug through her grandmother's jewelry box, and, spotting a pair of huge heart-shaped hoops, decked herself out.

Tatianna continued to pursue a career in crime. Though she had no love for mischief, she found that computer programming was easy for her, and she could steal money from faceless corporations without compunction. But, in the end, it was her mother's efforts that paved the way for her to achieve her dream of wealth. Tatianna looked at the tree that bore golden fruit, and a golden idea was born. She propagated that tree until the front yard was an orchard of cash. Tatianna was rich beyond her wildest dreams, and the excuse of "gardening" gave her a reason to spend time with her true love, Patchy.

It was Jeannie's fourteenth birthday that truly set Tatianna off. When she looked at her daughter, the pouchy cheeks of her husband stood out as such a strong reminder that tears leapt to her eyes. This girl, once so full of promise, could not inherit the throne. Something must be done.

Tatianna attended her sister Chloe's birthday party out of familial obligation, but a handsome stranger caught her eye. He introduced himself as Wyatt. His build was just like her father's, though he was pale, with green eyes and dusty brown hair. Tatianna looked at her sister, whose once-happy marriage had crumbled, and whose jowls had only grown more prominent with age. Wyatt asked if she was single, and, slipping the ring off of her finger, she said, "It's complicated." A few drinks later, she found herself bent over in the bathroom, Wyatt pounding away as she imagined that he was a much, much skinnier man...

Tatianna didn't exactly expect to have a third child, but the morning sickness wasn't quite a surprise, either. She waited until Cedric went to work to invite Wyatt over to visit and to tell him the good news. Did she let him linger on purpose, to make her final decision easier? She couldn't quite say for sure. But Cedric came home to find Wyatt embracing Tati, and he was outraged. It took Tati a moment to find the words (or the option in the interactions wheel), but she asked Cedric for a divorce, and he agreed. He wanted to keep living with his children, but Tatianna didn't think that was a good option. Cedric left, but he stayed in the family. Ages ago, in high school, he'd made a pass at Chloe before he'd settled on Tatianna. When she mentioned that her home had more bedrooms than people, he took her up on the offer. He'd have started working on a revenge romance if Chloe weren't already pregnant.

Wyatt's life wasn't free of complications, either. As a very young man, he'd married an older woman, and she was now gray-haired and weak. His son was almost seventeen. He couldn't look at his wife and feel love anymore, but he felt wretched betraying his son. And yet, there was no room in his new life for this old family. Tatianna's rounded belly convinced him. He divorced his wife, and moved in with Tatianna. Wyatt's love of athletics made him an instant hit with Kane. They spent hours in the basement gym, Kane mentoring his future son-in-law in all the glories of athleticism that he could no longer enjoy himself, due to old age. Tatianna promised Wyatt that they'd marry, though she couldn't quite decide when (and the game is convinced that he's in her employ and therefore can't marry her, so idk). History repeated itself when Tatianna went into labor, and her baby's father was nowhere to be found. Instead, Patchy ran to her side, fretting over her safety as she delivered her third child. In honor of another impending Winterfest, she named her daughter Noelle. The infant looked like any other, though she'd inherited her mother's rich skintone, rather than her father's pale one.

Phillip was unhappy about his new little sister, and he missed his father. Jeannie had hardly a thought to spare for her new stepfather, beyond the fact that he was incredibly hot. Tatianna was torn. Her youngest child was a chance to pass the throne to a worthy heir, and to forget the error of her first marriage. But the baby didn't belong to her true love, and no baby ever would. Could she learn to love this child... or any child? She vowed to be a better parent to Noelle than she'd been to Jeannie. In fact, she swore to be the best parent ever, just as her mother was. Hope picked up Noelle, her eighth (or probably ninth but I didn't check to see if Chloe had her baby yet) grandchild. Was this newborn to be the queen that her mother and grandmother were before her?

#trash #omfg trash #so trash #sims4 #sims 4 legacy challenge

[toukenra]

Askbox open? Yay! I might be spamming you then with Shinsengumi requests (yes, shinsengumi trash right here). So for my first wave, can I request a scenario of the saniwa taking the shinsengumi boys plus Mutsunokami to the beach? Inspired by the beach ep in hanamaru 😅

You guys sure love the Shinsengumi swords , don’t you? ;) Well I don’t blame you they are just too adorable (♡ >ω think again because the day Mutsu and Kane-san stop bickering with each other is the day pigs learn to fly ＾▽＾ It will probably end in a sea battle lol

Everyone was so excited for this beach trip except for Kashuu

He was so phobic of the sun burning his skin and accidentally stepping on jellyfish you almost had to carry him to the water

you tried to coax him but in the end Mutsunokami and Yasusada just took that over for you and joined in on throwing him into the water

r u d e

High pitched girl screams from Izuminokami when he accidentally stepped on some shells cue screams of laughter coming from Mutsunokami

‘You scream like a little girl Kanesada!’

‘What did you bastard just say to me??’

and just like that your peaceful and relaxing beach trip was over

..goodbye peaceful times, you will be missed dearly

disappointed you turned to Horikawa, who was already in dispute settlement mode and running towards these ruffians

‘Don’t worry Aruji as I’m Kane-san’s partner I’ll take care of them! He sure doesn’t mean it like that!’

meanwhile Kashuu had finished changing and offered you a slice of some freshly cut watermelon

‘Well, it was almost a minute wasn’t it?

‘Come on you two, kiss later! Or I will eat up these watermelons all by myself!’

10 stressful minutes and a long scolding later, in which you threatened to turn them back into swords and let them rust away at the bottom of the Mariana Trench if they didn’t behave, everyone was seated under some palm trees and happily munching on the grilled fish Yasusada had caught while everyone was busy bickering around

but of course your lecture went in one ear and out the other and all too soon Izuminokami and Mutsunokami were squabbling again

‘Hey Kanesada, if I ask nicely, could I bury you in the sand?

‘Hey Yoshiyuki, if I ask nicely could I set you on fire?’

Sigh

being Master to these swords sure is stressful maybe you should change your middle name into suffering

Horimamma having to tear them apart again

Repeatedly

Horikawa Kunihiro is a literal angel and i swear to god his smile could cure cancer ok fight me on this also he should be promoted and get some vacation from Izuminokami from time to time 

Can we agree that Izuminokami, being the haughty ass he is, thinks he doesn’t need sun screen and ends up with the most painful sunburn ever? Because I can feel that image in my soul and it’s honestly tear-jerking

And no, Yasusada and Mutsunokami totally didn’t draw whiskers on his face with sun screen while he was asleep

After some time spent with sunbathing and playing volleyball, in which you forced Mutsunokami and Izuminokami to team up the waves had gotten pretty high so you decided to teach them on surfing

Headcanon that Horikawa puts Kane-san’s hair in a man bun for him so it’s not in his way and it looks absolutely ridiculous

Who am I kidding he would look sexy even when his hair is up in pigtails and he’s dressed in a dustbin liner

Surprisingly Yasu is a natural at surfing no honestly he’s an actual surf god and no one can convince me otherwise

Kashuu gets a little jealous of him so he spends his time collecting shells and pretty rocks to rebuild the citadel out of sand and actually surpasses himself

your eyes almost fell out when you saw the result

‘Kyomitsu..d-did you build this all by yourself?’

‘Do you like it Aruji? I tried to rebuild the citadel for you.’

Honey this is more like a huge sand palace instead of a simple sand citadel, cue precious bab getting all blushy mushy when you compliment him 

and what’s a day at the beach without a barbecue and a bonfire at sunset right? 

even though you were exhausted and probably got grey after having to take care of them all day, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the 4 Uchigatanas snoring peacefully under the palm trees while you and Horikawa were curling your toes in the soft sand and watched the flames dance in the gentle night breeze

‘They look so innocent when they’re not fighting don’t they?’ you murmured gently while gingerly brushing Kashuu’s hair that had fallen into his face, cue soft laugther from the Wakizashi

‘..Maybe we should bury them in the sand and just leave them here over night, that’ll teach them a lesson.’ cue shocked Horikawa 

Aruji that’s too evil!

-Mod Pancake🥞

#ask #anonymous #kashuu kiyomitsu #yasusada yamatonokami #mutsunokami yoshiyuki #izuminokami kanesada #horikawa kunihiro #Touken Ranbu #Mod Pancake

[panticwritten]

Writing prompt: “What’s with the pigtails?” Any characters you want.

Hey, thanks for the ask! This took awhile, so I made it happy and at least sort of cute. This almost went to a very different place than it ended up.

Once I actually sat down and wrote this (then figured out what direction to send it in), this was super fun to write. This takes place in the Sequence of Regrettable Happenings universe, about a year and a half after the scene with Kane and the burns.

In this universe, Connor isn’t aware of the Cube or the fact that none of it is real (like he normally is in the other universes), so he’s just a huge dork on his own time.

I don’t write enough happy things with me and Connor. I should do that more often.

Word Count: 612

“What’s with the pigtails?”

I nearly jump out of my skin, hand immediately flying to the make-up bag on the counter. Before I can do anything hasty, like pull a knife from the bag, I catch sight of Connor in the mirror. He watches me from the bathroom door, sandy hair mussed and a cup of coffee in his hands. I mask my sudden motion by bracing myself against the counter instead.

What is he still doing here?

“God, you scared me.” I swallow and give my head a shake. “I thought you left.”

He snorts. “Without telling you? Nah.” He grins, such a boyish thing, and slinks through the door. “I don’t have anywhere better to be.”

I straighten up and return to my preparations for the night to come. I watch him in the mirror until he leans against the wall beside me, nearly out of sight but not out of mind. I can’t keep a smile from quirking my lips, though I don’t try all that hard.

“So,” he prompts. Cloying fingers ghost through the bunch of hair to my left. “Pigtails?”

I spare him a glance, and he retracts his hand. He seems to take it as a reproval. I’m glad he can’t see m struggle between honesty and kindness.

An interested party wants dirt on a visiting dignitary. Thanks to Kane—who you also don’t know about—I get to be a waitress in a low-town dive.

“Work,” I say, finally. “I’ll fit right in, trust me.”

“You never told me what you do.”

I panic.

“You never asked.”

Damn it.

He sets his mug on the counter, and I finally turn to regard him. He doesn’t seem fazed, not by my dodge or by my poorly feigned forgetfulness. One eyebrow cocked in a challenge, he crosses his arms.

“It’s funny you say that, ‘cause,” he begins, scratching his jaw. “I seem to recall asking last night, Mx. Perry, before you distracted me.”

“You are very easily distracted, Mr. Sawyer,” I reply with a serious nod. I lift his mug from the counter and take a drink. “That’s not my fault.”

He laughs but makes no motion to take the drink from me. “I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

“I don’t,” I agree, replacing the mug on the counter. “But I’ll need the caffeine later.”

“You really won’t tell me?” He steps closer, reaching out to trail a finger along my jaw. “Not even a hint?���

After all this time, something deep inside still screams at me to move away, but I don’t. This miracle man hasn’t hurt me yet, and I’m starting to think he isn’t planning to. Instead, I step closer and let him angle my head back.

I never used to like eye contact before.

“Connor Sawyer, are you trying to make me late for work?” I breathe, a mock accusation. He grins and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“If you’d let me, always.”

#my writing #connor sawyer #j #sorh #this is probs the most pure relationship in all of sorh #the collective

[kane-and-griffin]

“I Put a Spell On You“

A Kabby Halloween fic in three parts for the AU The Woman That Fell From the Sky, in honor of @brittanias‘ birthday! 

(Yes I know it’s 6 weeks away, but it’s her favorite holiday and I regret nothing)

PART 1: “Cara Mia” (Halloween 2004)

GOMEZ: “How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?” MORTICIA: “Oh, Gomez . . . hours.” --The Addams Family

Holidays for the first few years are muted affairs.

Clarke is four when they move to Massachusetts, and the move is as great a shock to her system as the loss of her father.  The entirety of her small young life, undone and turned inside out.  Neither of them have the stomach for Thanksgiving or Christmas that year; Jake died in April and eight months is not enough time for them to face the misery of attempting to replicate holiday traditions without him.  New Year’s, Easter, Valentine’s Day, their wedding anniversary, Father’s Day, his birthday.  The endless, endless repetition of moments for which Jake is supposed to be there, but isn’t.

Then, a year and a half later, the terrible thing happens, the worst day of all their lives, and Marcus arrives at their doorstep with ash in his hair and kisses Abby’s mouth like she thought no one would ever kiss her again, and something, ever so faintly, begins to click into place.

He’s still there a month later, when the leaves begin to turn from green to gold to crimson, and the town begins to don its autumnal finery for the fall festival.

Clarke and Abby did not go to the festival last year.  Jake had been the one who carved their jack o’lanterns every year, elaborately detailed masterpieces of witches on broomsticks and black cats arching their backs.  He had a box of delicate, fine-bladed woodworking tools he used only for pumpkins, something Abby had long ridiculed him for.  She’d brought the box to Massachusetts, only because she could not bear to throw it away, but it had been moved straight to the garage and she’d never looked at it again.  She’d put a bowl of candy on the porch for the neighbor children, in the interests of seeming neighborly, but that was as much holiday spirit as she could muster.

Marcus, however, has never lived anywhere that was not New York City, and the fall festival is a thing of wonder to him.  So, to appease him – and because once he says the words “free candy” it’s impossible to dissuade Clarke from adding her pleas to his – they walk down after dinner on Halloween, and Abby – against all expectations, and very nearly against her will – finds herself slowly giving in to its charms.

There are orange twinkle lights wound around the columns of the gazebo in the town square and a small hay bale maze for the children.  There is a long table of caramel apples and popcorn balls and chocolate truffles dipped in orange fondant with charming toothy grins.  There is hot spiced cider in big black iron cauldrons, steaming with dry ice and scented with ginger and cinnamon, ladled out by a line of moms in pumpkin-embroidered aprons.  (Marcus and Abby’s steaming paper cups get discreetly spiked with bourbon by Roan, the hardware store owner, who shoves the flask back in his pocket as Officer Pike pretends not to notice.)  Clarke is the only child not wearing a costume; tiny witches and vampires and princesses and Frankensteins abound, along with one particularly grotesque blood-spattered zombie, introduced to them as Octavia Blake from down the street.

Everyone in town knows Dr. Griffin’s story by now – knew it within hours after the “SALE PENDING” sticker went up over the “FOR SALE” sign on the old white house on Birch Street.  Vincent the realtor had stopped by Indra’s for coffee that morning and told her everything, so by dinnertime everyone knew.  They orbited her at a safe distance for the first year or so, treating her rather gingerly, as though she were made of glass.  Under other circumstances she would have found this profoundly irritating, but inside that cocoon of grief, the less she had to talk to people, the better.

But now she’s at the fall festival, she’s drinking cider and holding hands with a tall dark-haired man in a leather jacket and she’s letting her tiny blonde daughter race through the hay bale maze at full throttle, excited squeals of glee echoing through the night air, and she’s smiling, and this is the moment the town falls in love with Marcus Kane for the very first time.

Because he made the doctor smile.

He comes back for the fall festival the next year, and the year after that.  Abby still can’t bring herself to open the box in the garage, and says a gentle but firm no to Clarke’s pleas for elaborate decorations.  They put out a bowl of candy on the porch, as all the neighbors do, and they stroll down to the fall festival and drink their cider.  Abby lets Clarke wear a costume (a cat the first year, Belle the second), but declines to wear one herself.

By their fourth year in Massachusetts, Clarke is eight, and Abby’s lackluster commitment to Halloween becomes a bone of contention before school has even started.  Marcus let her watch The Addams Family with him one night over the summer when Abby had an emergency late-night surgery and he was on parenting detail alone.  Clarke loves anything Marcus loves, so she is prepared for his favorite movie to become her favorite movie before he even turns the television on, and she falls head-over-heels for the glaring, morbid Wednesday Addams.  Maintaining basic table manners, after this, becomes a trial (“Pass the parmesan cheese.”  “What do we say, Clarke?”  “MORE.”) which Marcus’ badly-concealed chuckles do not help.  But she sets her heart on dressing up as Wednesday Addams in July, and by the time September turns the corner into October, she has worn her mother down.

Abby does not sew.  Or, more accurately, she does not sew fabric.  (Her surgical stitches are a thing of beauty, but those skills do not translate to any domestic project more elaborate than repairing a loose button.)  But her neighbor Callie does.  Callie was Abby’s first real friend in town, inviting her to book club and backyard barbecues and brunch potlucks until she slowly began to get her feet under her again, and begin to feel marginally less alone.  Callie is the neighborhood’s resident domestic goddess; her flower garden is always perfect, her table settings colorful and elegant, her sugar-dusted loaves of holiday gingerbread appearing like magic on doorsteps up and down the street every Christmas morning.  And she can sew, because of course she can, so once she overhears Clarke at the supermarket staring covetously at the racks of polyester costumes and lamenting the lack of a Wednesday, she steps in immediately.

“Oh, I love The Addams Family,” she tells Clarke, smiling.  “I’d be happy to make you a Wednesday costume.  Easy as pie.  And your mom should be Morticia, don’t you think?”

And once the words are said, of course, there is absolutely no peace in the Griffin household until Abby finally, finally, finally heaves a weary sigh, walks across the street, knocks on Callie’s door, hands her a bottle of merlot, and says only, “I give in.”

Callie goes to work immediately, laughing Abby’s checkbook out of her hands (“don’t be an idiot, this is a gift”) and taking both mother and daughter’s measurements, occasionally leaning down to whisper conspiratorially in Clarke’s ear and making the girl giggle so hard her blonde curls bounce against her shoulders.   Two weeks later, two long flat boxes (wrapped in black paper with black silk ribbon, with the beheaded stem of a rose tucked in each, which makes Clarke shriek with glee) appear on the front step.  In Clarke’s, a crisp black dress with a starched white collar, black tights, little black boots, and even a black wig already combed sleek and braided into perfect tight pigtails; in Abby’s, a long black wig and a dress that makes her eyes widen when she puts it on its hanger and realizes how low the neckline plunges.  (“She’s bisexual,” points out an amused Marcus when she calls him that night, his voice sounding bitterly disappointed that he’ll be working that weekend and won’t get to see it.  “It’s a gift for you and for her.”  Marcus has always liked Callie.)

Clarke loves her costume so much she has to be forcibly restrained from wearing it to school every single day for the whole last week of October, and something of her giddy joy begins to chip away, bit by bit, at Abby’s reserve.  She remembers this herself, after all, she’s not so old that she’s forgotten the year she dressed as Princess Leia and grew out her hair all year so it would be long enough for her mother to braid into side buns, or the year she was six and it rained so hard she had to wear galoshes under her Cinderella dress instead of glass slippers and cried about it all the way to the first house on the block but stopped as soon as she was handed a Kit-Kat.

Jake has been gone for four years.

The box has been in the garage long enough.

On Friday, when the school bus drops Clarke off on the corner, she is momentarily disoriented, and for a second, she is unsure whether she has arrived at the wrong house.  Because it looks like Halloween, for real, it’s the Halloween house of her eight-year-old dreams, with pumpkins and hay and a wreath of dried leaves on the door.  And when she opens the door, she gasps so loudly Abby can hear her in the kitchen and comes outside, wiping her hands on her apron.  (Mom is wearing an apron?)  There are shiny glass pumpkins and pretty black candlesticks and pretend spiderwebs on the dining room chandelier.

“You were too little to remember,” Abby says, “but me and your dad, we used to love Halloween.  We dressed up and had parties in the apartment every year.”

Clarke looks around, eyes even wider, taking it all in.

“Did all of this belong to Dad?”  Abby nods.  “Did you not want to look at it before because you were too sad?”

Abby is startled, as always, by the depth of this small child’s perceptiveness; sometimes it’s like talking to a tiny grownup.  She nods, not quite trusting her voice yet, but Clarke doesn’t press her any further.  “I’m glad you’re not so sad anymore,” is all she says, and trots into the kitchen where her eight-year-old senses have unerringly detected the scent of cookies.

The next morning, after pumpkin pancakes (picked up from Indra’s diner, of course; Abby’s baking skills were maxed out yesterday in baking ghost-shaped cookies and letting Clarke decorate them), Abby takes her daughter by the hand and leads her out to the backyard, where she has laid old newspaper all over the surface of the old rickety picnic table, and two absolutely perfect pumpkins – round, sleek, glossy, their sunset-orange skins free of every blemish – sit next to a cardboard box duct-taped shut which Clarke has never seen before.

“Pick one,” says Abby, and Clarke can’t do anything but fling her arms around her mother’s waist.

 Sunday dawns crisp and clear, perfect Halloween weather.  Clarke is incandescent with eight-year-old glee, and even Abby is finding herself, surprisingly, getting into the spirit of it.   They eat dinner early, around four-thirty, and Callie comes over to help them dress.   The knock at the door, around five-fifteen, just as Abby is finishing her makeup, startles her.  It’s far too early to be children; the fall festival kicks off around six, with the trick-or-treaters beginning their rounds shortly thereafter, once their parents have each had time for a cup or two of Roan’s “special” cider.  Abby leaves Clarke sitting on the side of her bed, Callie winding her blonde ringlets into neat little pincurls so the wig will lay flat, and descends the staircase reluctantly, already feeling a bit ridiculous.  If it’s the FedEx guy, and she’s in a skintight black dress cut so low she can’t even wear a bra . . .

The door swings open while she’s halfway down the stairs, startling the life out of her, and she freezes in place.

It’s definitely not the FedEx guy.

“Cara mia,” says Marcus, who is standing at her door in a flawless Gomez Addams costume – pinstriped suit, slicked-back hair, his face clean-shaven save for a perfect pencil mustache – and Abby feels her heart crack open inside her chest.

She stands there, a little stupidly, not entirely convinced she isn’t simply imagining this, until he closed the door behind him and she finally collects herself enough to descend to the bottom of the stairs and meet him in the foyer.

“I would very much like to kiss you,” he says, fiery warmth in his gaze as his eyes travel up and down her body in the curve-hugging black dress, “but it looks like you just finished your makeup and I don’t want to ruin it.  So just know I’m saving one extra for later.”  But he does put his arms around her, pulling her close, pressing his mouth against the creamy bare skin of her shoulder, and she has to swallow hard over and over again to keep from crying off the perfect wings of black eyeliner that took her three tries to get right.

“How are you here?” she finally manages to whisper, but the mystery is solved before she can even finish her sentence.

“Clarke,” she hears Callie’s gleeful, mischievous voice from above her, “I believe your Halloween present is here.  Run downstairs so I can come take some pictures.”

“Pictures of what?” Clarke demands, little feet scampering out of her room towards the staircase, where she too stops short at the sight of him.

But Clarke recovers faster than her mother did, launching herself down the steps with lightning speed to fling her arms around him and let herself be lifted up and pulled close to his chest in a massive hug.  “You look just like him!” she squeals.  “You even have the mustache.”

Marcus sets her back down on her feet and examines her costume.  “Perfect,” he pronounces emphatically.  “She did great.”

“I told you I would,” laughs Callie, descending the stairs, camera in hand.

Abby stares from one to the other.  “Did you two cook this up together?”

Marcus and Callie grin at each other conspiratorially, like mischievous children.  “Maybe,” he says, refusing to elaborate further, then bows deeply at Abby and holds out his hand to her.  “Cara mia,” he says again, his low voice making her shiver even with Clarke and Callie standing right there.

“You’re staying the night, right?” she murmurs into his ear as they pose for photo after photo, so quietly that Clarke doesn’t hear her.

He chuckles, warm and low.  “That depends.  You don’t have to give the dress back, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m definitely staying the night.”

“I can’t promise you I’ll want to wear the wig any longer than I have to.”

“I’m willing to compromise on the wig,” he says, winking at her, and then pulls back and pivots smoothly on his heel to dip her dramatically in his arms, making Clarke giggle, and suddenly even the delicious thought of Marcus unzipping her out of the tight black dress is pushed out of her mind by the realization of what this is and what she’s doing.

They have matching Halloween costumes, so they can go trick-or-treating together.

Callie is taking family photos of them.

These are family photos.

They are a family.

She feels that old, familiar pang in her chest, thinking of Jake, but it doesn’t push the smile away or dull her happiness.  Not like it used to.

Jake always meant that box to be opened.  He always meant those orange paper Halloween lanterns to hang over the dining room table.  He always wanted this for Clarke.  He would want this for her now.

Perhaps it is possible, after all, to get back the thing she’d lost.  Something different, but no less real.

Because Marcus is family now.  She knows this, down to her bones.  Yes, he came to see her, and yes, she can tell from the way his eyes never leave her that the allure of Abby dressed as one of his favorite movie characters was a powerful draw.

But he did this for Clarke.

She knows this even before she makes him say it to her, out loud, later that night, as they stand in the white glow of moonlight streaming in through her bedroom window, as he steps in close to her and kisses the back of her neck to unzip the black dress.  She knows it as he leans over to steal a bite from Clarke’s candy apple, knows it every time he reaches out instinctively for her tiny hand as they cross the street to get to the next house, knows it as he lifts her into his arms to let her sleepy head droop onto his pinstriped shoulder as they make their way back home.

Every time he gets in his car and drives out of Manhattan and through the long stretches of forest-lined highway to pull up in front of her front door, it is not only Abby he’s coming home to.

“I just like to see her happy,” he says helplessly, when she asks him, and she does kiss him then, turning around in his arms, unzipped dress sliding off her shoulders, black wig and red lipstick gone, face pink and clean.  Just Abby and Marcus, alone in the moonlight, with a tiny blonde creature snoring two rooms away, sleeping the sleep of the candy-intoxicated, hair a wild golden cloud from Callie’s pincurls.  “I just wanted to see the look on her face.”

“I don’t know how to tell you,” she starts to say, but can’t finish the sentence.  She doesn’t have the words for him, for what it means to her.  He bought a suit for this, shaved off his beard for this, cut his hair for this, and drove four hours from Manhattan with a jack o’lantern in his back seat, just to make Clarke smile on Halloween.

He tilts her chin up to look into her eyes, and she sees that his are shining with tears.  “I like to see you happy too,” he says softly, and then bends his head to kiss her, and no one says anything for a long time after that.

He lets her sleep in the next morning, since it’s her day off, and takes Clarke to school himself.  She wakes around nine-thirty to the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon, and comes downstairs in her pajamas to see a pan of pumpkin-cinnamon bread pudding on the counter.  The kitchen is empty, but she knows he must be home; there’s a steaming mug of coffee on the marble island, with more in the pot for her, and his keys and wallet are sitting next to them, along with a little rectangle of yellow paper, creased like he’d folded it up and put it in his pocket.  But it’s unfolded now, and she can see the logo of Saint Henry’s Church at the top of it, which is unexpected enough that it prompts her to pick it up and read it.

It’s a receipt for a five-dollar donation.

She stares at it for a long time, bleary with sleep, puzzling it out, before she hears the back door close and sees him come up the steps, holding the glass votives he took out of the jack o’lanterns before putting them into the compost bin.

“Dia de los Muertos,” he says softly, as he enters the kitchen.  “Tomorrow is All Souls’ Day.  Clarke and I stopped by the church to light a candle.”

“For Jake,” she whispers, and he nods.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he confesses, coming closer and putting his arms around her.  “Any of this.  But I always want her to feel like there’s room for both of us – for him and for me – to live side-by-side.”  He kisses the top of her head.  “Is that okay?” he murmurs into her hair, sudden worry in his voice.  “Should I have asked?”

She shakes her head, face still buried in his chest, the cotton of his sweater warm and soft beneath her cheek.

“No,” she whispers.  “It’s perfect.  You did everything right.”

#kabby #marcus kane #abby griffin #kabby fic #kabby fan fiction #the 100 fic #au: the woman that fell from the sky #brittanias #happy birthday b #this is part 1 of 3

[onemilliongoldstars]

blessed

After a particularly difficult 23 hours working in the hospital, Clarke is haunted by the thought that she could lose the people that she has grown to love. It takes some persuasion for her to realise that loving people so much is not a weakness, and that instead of pushing them away she must cherish their time together.

Clarke learns that her love for her family is a blessing.

part of a hand to hold onto

8k words, 1/1.

read on ao3

The hospital dorm is dim, despite the blazing sun outside. Flimsy curtains have been drawn across the two small windows and a slither of light seeps in through the cracked doorway, but otherwise the room is quiet and dark, filled only with the restless tossing of doctors trying to catch a moment of sleep in the carnage of the day. Clarke sits on the edge of a bed, perching precariously. Her hair is ratted, hanging half out of the sensible bun she put it in so many hours ago and falling around her face in strands matted with sweat and tears. Her face feels stiff and clammy, her scrubs pungent with sweat and blood. Elbows on her knees, her whole posture is curled over on itself, as if trying to protect her soul from the heaviness that hangs around her shoulder. Her hands are lightly clasped, but that doesn’t stop them trembling.

She hears the door swing open above her, but doesn’t look up until the mattress beside her tips gently. A hand rests on her knee, stilling the shaking and she draws her head up to blink at Wells in the darkness.

“Hey,” Her friend tries for a weak smile but she can read the exhaustion in the lines of his face, etched into the bags beneath his eyes. “Thought you were going home.”

“I am,” Her voice is scratchy and rough and she swallows heavily, “I just… I needed a minute you know? Before getting behind the wheel?”

“I get it,” He squeezes her knee softly. “Could Lexa come and get you?”

Clarke shakes her head, frowning as she thinks. Lexa and the kids feel very far away right now, but a bleary look at the clock tells her that it’s almost time for school to be let out. “No,” She says at last, “No, I can manage. She’s working on a big case, I’ll let her stay at work and pick up the kids. Unless…” She peers at him uncertainly, “I feel like I should stay here. There’s so much more to be done.”

“Clarke,” Wells is gently stern, shaking his head before she’s even finished talking. “You’ve been here for 26 hours. Go home, get some rest, there’s enough of us here to deal with this.”

“Yeah?” At his nod she lets out a soft sigh and hates herself for the relief that curls in her gut. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll head home.”

“See you tomorrow Clarke,” He stands and holds out his arms and she clasps him close. They’ve always been close, but days like today force bonds even closer. She understands why so many people date their colleagues, no one else can really understand what happens in emergency operating theatres. “Thanks for your hard work today.”

“Don’t stay too long,” It’s her turn to be firm, “You need rest too.”

“Yes doctor,” He gives her a tired grin and it lightens her spirits enough to make it out to the car.

The sunlight is far too bright after so many hours traipsing around the hospital corridors and she hesitates at the automatic door, almost afraid to step out into the street. But she’s already sent Lexa a text on the way down here, reassuring her that she’ll pick the kids up from school and telling her to stay late at the office if she wants to and it’s this that pushes her out onto the sidewalk. There are still ambulances milling around and she can already see flowers being laid beneath the sign for the hospital, a few camera crews loitering about in hopes of finding something to shoot.

She keeps her head down and treks to the car, the keys swinging in fingers that ache from hours of careful cutting and pressing and stitching. Her eyes still feeling blurry, stinging with the effort of keeping them open and she swallows, glad to shut the car door behind her and find a moment of peace and solitude to ground herself.

In her pocket, her phone buzzes and she pulls it out to see a text from Lexa.

15:04

You sure?? You’ve been up for hours, I can do it

It’s tempting. All she wants to do is get home and bury herself in her comforter to ignore the trembling of her limbs and the images behind her eyelids. But part of being a family is making sacrifices and she knows that Lexa has a meeting with Senator Kane in the next few days about her bill.

15:07

I got it, don’t worry, see you later xx

15:08

<3 I love you

Despite the day she’s had, the text makes her lips quirk up and jerks her out of her stupor enough to turn the car over.

Without thinking she clicks on the radio and the words that greet her make her screech the car to a stop in the middle of reversing out of her space.

“…reports from the scene of the school bus crash yesterday afternoon, children have been rushed to the hospital where medical staff are doing…”

Behind her a driver presses the heel of his hand into his horn and she startles, her breath coming harsh and fast, her fingers shaking as she raises a hand in apology and hitches herself out of her space, circling the parking lot and pulling out onto the road.

By the time she gets to the school she’s managed to calm down a little, enough that when she climbs out to collect the kids she’s able to give the playgroup teacher a wavering smile, glad that she thought to throw a sweater on over her scrubs before she got out of the car. Tris’s little face somehow makes her feel both better and worse and the little girl toddles to her happily, throwing her arms around her neck when she bends down to collect her into her arms.

“Clarke!” It still makes her grin when Tris says her name, though she’s been saying it for nearly a year and it came far after the words mama, Lexa and no.

“Hey sweetie,” Her wispy hair is long enough to tie into two pigtails now and they bounce when she tilts her head curiously at Clarke.

“You back?” She asks, bluntly and Clarke lets out a soft sigh.

“Yeah, I’m back.” Behind her Miya is starting to get fidgety and she carries Tris back to the car, letting the little girl trail after her. She straps Tris into her car seat- Miya’s old one which is still a little big for her- and watches as Miya clambers into the passenger seat. She can’t help but place a soft kiss to Tris’s forehead, warm and wriggling and alive, and gets into the driver’s seat.

Miya turns to peer at her as she drives and Clark can see the curious expression on her face from the corner of her eyes, biting back a smile at the sight.

“Clarke?”

“Mm?”

“Where were you last night?”

Her fingers clench around the wheel and she swallows heavily before she can answer. “There was a big accident Miya, lots of people had to go to hospital. I thought Aunt Lexa explained that to you.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t you have just come home for dinner?” Miya frowns, “Aunt Lexa made us eat vegetables.”

“Because that’s not how it-”

“Can we have pizza tonight?” Miya interrupts, twisting properly in her seat and Clarke can feel the tension building up behind her eyes, static like an electrical storm, and pushes it fiercely away.

“No, and sit straight, you need to be careful.” She reaches over to briefly push on Miya’s shoulders.

“Be careful?” Miya echoes, perplexed, but obediently turns back in her seat. “But we’re in a car.”

“Bad things can happen in cars, you need to let your seat belt do its work,” Clarke responds firmly and clicks on the CD of Disney songs that is now permanently stuck in her car.

---

The screaming of the toddler sat in front of her is enough to drown out Aden’s shouting until he gets to the doorway of the living room. Clarke is sat on the floor, holding the leg that had been ripped off Tris’s teddy bear by a guilty looking Comet, and trying to calm the distraught child. Tris’s face is red with all of her screaming, her cheeks puffy and her eyes swollen and Clarke has been trying to calm her down for the past ten minutes, her migraine getting slowly worse. She’s still in her scrubs, the scent of death lingers in her nose, making her feel vaguely nauseous and she swallows past the bile building up in the back of her throat when Aden calls her name.

“Yes?” She peers over her shoulder, one hand still blindly patting the toddler on the floor. “What is it?”

“I need you to help me study for my history test,” He is holding a piece of paper, looking agitated and she scoops Tris up into her arms so that she can stand.

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow,” He looks a little guilty and she sighs, her brows creasing as she opens her mouth to reprimand him. Aden hurries to talk over her, “I have studied for it a bit, but there hasn’t been any time Clarke! You said you’d help me last night but then you weren’t here.”

“Couldn’t-” Tris wriggles in her arms and she grunts, struggling to readjust the toddler until Tris can bury her face in the crook of her neck, where her tears wet Clarke’s skin. “Couldn’t Aunt Lexa have helped?”

“She tried, but she kept getting distracted by work,” Aden’s face is slipping into an frantic scowl, “I need your help Clarke! Or I’ll fail!”

“You’re not going to fail, okay? Go get your books and put them on the dining room table, I’ll come and help once I’m done with your sister.”

Tris’s cries are thankfully quietening to muffled, hiccoughing sobs close to her ear and as Aden disappears upstairs, Clarke settles onto the couch and gathers Tris into her lap.

“It’s okay Tris, I’m sorry about your bear.”

Tris looks up at her, wide eyes glazed with tears and proffers the amputee in her arms, “Fix it?”

“I… I can try,” She looks at the bear a little helplessly, “I promise I’ll try, okay sweetheart?”

Tris nods, her lower lip still trembling and sniffs. Clarke collects her into her arms, grabs another toy from the living room floor and goes to join Aden in the dining room. Settling into the chair next to him, Tris in her lap, she struggles to hide a jaw cracking yawn as the boy spreads his books out across the table, passing over a text book.

“I need you to quiz me on chapters 4, 5 and 6.” He drums his fingers on the table, watching as she drags the book closer and peers down at it.

“Right… so anything? Anything at all?” The letters swim in front of her and she pushes a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. Tris wriggles in her lap, squirming anxiously as she tosses her toy to the floor and tugs on Clarke’s arm.

“Play Clarke!”

“Okay,” She tries to let the little girl down, but Tris refuses to go, tugging on her arm again.

“Play!”

“I can’t play with you right now,” Clarke glances at the door to the hall. “Miya! Can you come and play with your sister?”

There is a beat of silence before Miya’s voice responds from upstairs. “I’m busy!”

She thinks about arguing, but the weariness is heavy in her limbs so she sighs softly, turning back to look at Aden’s expectant face. “Okay,” She says, more to herself than either of the children, “okay, Tris look, we’re going to help your brother do something really important okay?”

“Play!” Tris slaps a little hand down on the open text book and Clarke suppressing the urge to scream.

“Look, Tris, look at this.” She diverts the toddler’s attention down to the book in front of them, pointing at one of the bright pictures of a commander on a rearing horse. “Look, horsey!”

Tris stills in her lap, her hand patting softly at the paper, “horsey,” she echoes, quietly and Clarke casts a pleading glance at Aden.

“Go get her horse, then I’ll help you I promise.”

He gives a great sigh, but hops out of the chair and returns a moment later with Tris’s stuffed horse. “Here Tris.”

The toddler takes the toy into her eager hands, cooing over it and Clarke feels a modicum of peace settle over them as she turns back to the text book. Just looking at the thick block of text makes her want to rub her eyes, desperately hoping that the sentences will pull together and make enough sense that she can ask Aden some vaguely relevant questions. Aden is actually very well prepared, despite his panicking, and she smiles when he answers her first few questions right.

“Do you want to turn the page with me?” She asks Tris and the toddler nods happily, clumsy fingers following Clarke’s as she slowly turns the page.

They get through another six pages successfully before there’s the thud of footsteps on the staircase and Clarke turns in time to see Miya, in her powder pink tutu, spin on socked feet into the dining room.

“Miya,” She scolds, “You’re only meant to wear that for dance class.”

“I’m practicing for the recital!” Miya answers, smartly and Clarke has to bite at the inside of her cheek before she can answer calmly.

“You shouldn’t practice in your costume, what if something happens to it?”

“Like what?” Miya cocks her head.

“If it gets ripped or something.”

“But it won’t!”

“Oh my god, Miya go back upstairs!” Aden cuts in between them. “I have to study!”

“No!” Miya’s face crumples, “this is my house too!”

“Fine! Then I’ll go!” Aden grabs a few of his books, his face like thunder and storms past her so angrily that he knocks her shoulder.

“Ow!” Miya turns to Clarke self righteously for support and Tris has been distracted enough by the hubbub that she’s turned her attention back to the broken teddy bear. Comet barks at the door, pattering around between them.

“Aden!” Clarke hopes they can’t hear the way her voice wavers. “Come back here please!”

“No! She’s just ruining it.”

“Aden-”

“I am not!” There is a quiver of tears, the trembling of Miya’s lower lip, “I just wanted some help-”

“That’s okay Miya,” Clarke stands, letting Tris down to the ground and placing a hand on Miya’s shoulder, “Aden’s just stressed, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be rude- Aden! Come back and apologise to your sister!”

“No!” Aden peers over the staircase, “She always gets her way, it’s not fair.”

“She’s seven Aden, she didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

“Yes she did.” Aden stomps back down the stairs, “You were meant to be helping me study, this is important.”

“So’s my recital!” Miya glowers at him, hands on her hips.

“Clarke!” Tris grabs on her hand, pulling her attention down and holds up the teddy bear with watering eyes. “Clarke fix!”

“Okay,” Clarke pinches her nose, closing her eyes for a minute to gather her thoughts. “Aden, stop being childish and come back here so that I can help you study, Miya go take off that outfit and I’ll help you practice later.” She turns her back to their protests, grabbing the emergency sewing kit that Lexa keeps in the top kitchen cupboard, there for last minute patches and rips.

The kids are still shouting, both at each other and her and Tris is starting to cry, so she takes the bear and its lost limb in hand and settles at the kitchen table to pull out a needle and thread. The moment she takes the cold instrument in hand, she feels her blood run icy in her veins. Her fingers are trembling so much that she can barely thread the cotton and takes a few moments to realise that the kids have all gone quiet.

“Clarke?” She hears Aden say, “Are you okay?”

“You’re all white,” Miya adds and when she lifts her eyes she can suddenly see the children laid out on stretchers and operating tables before her. Her hands feels stiff, as if they are still coated with blood and the phantom smell is enough to make her dive from the table and retch into the kitchen sink.

It feels like an age that she’s bent in two, the smell of metal hot in her nose, her throat scratched from so much retching, but it can only be a few minutes before a gentle hand comes to rest on her shoulders, rubbing softly and brushing away the hair that’s falling into her sweaty face. She peers around and it feels as if some of the knots in her body unravel at the sight of Lexa’s concerned face, still wearing her crisp business suit.

“You’re back.” She croaks and Lexa hushes her softly, passing her a glass of water.

“I came home a little earlier.” Warm, gentle hands smooth over her forehead and her hair, soothing her as Clarke takes the water and washes out her mouth. “Good thing I did, too. Are you okay?”

“Yeah just…” She slowly eases herself upright and has to put a hand to her head when the room swings around her. “Tired I think, a bit worn down.”

“Go have a shower and go to bed, I’ll sort everything out here.” Lexa places the softest of kisses to her forehead and for a moment Clarke sinks into her embrace, too weary to argue and lets Lexa hold her up.

The kids are clustered in the kitchen doorway, watching them and Clarke can feel their eyes on her, boring into her skin and settling beneath it like an itch. Just looking at them reminds her of the blood coating her gloves and staining her scrub top, small hands reaching out from hospital beds and crying children gasping for their mothers as surgeons rushed them to the operating rooms, and she feels the bile rise in her throat again.

---

She takes a few minutes in the shower to slide down against the cold tile and crumple herself into a small ball. The weight on her shoulders slips down, cloaking her whole body until she feels consumed by it and when she rests her forehead against her knees and lets the water run over her face she almost feels as if she’s drowning.

She drags herself out of the water when her hands are wrinkled and her breathless sobs have turned to a sore throat and a headache and falls into bed, still curled in her towel, wet hair dripping down her back. The comforter is thick and heavy, but even when she piles it over her head she can still see helpless faces and reaching hands every time she closes her eyes. There is a knock on the door, but she stays silent. It swings open and she’s unsurprised to hear feet pad across the room and feel the mattress sink beside her. A hand comes to rest on the top of her head, smoothing down the shock of hair that sticks out from her cocoon and she steadies herself, wipes away the tears on her cheek with the corner of the comforter before twisting up to look at Lexa.

“Hey,” Her girlfriend is soft, her smile carefully understanding and she immediately feels guilt crashing through her at the sight. “I brought you something to eat, but if you just want to crash I can wrap it up.” In her hand is a plate of pie and vegetables and Clarke rubs at her eyes and levers herself up in the bed to take it into her lap.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Lexa swings her legs around so that she can sit next to her on the bed and they sit in silence for a few moments, as Clarke picks at her food. Her stomach is still in knots and despite the rigorous brushing and gargling of mouthwash she did earlier, she can still taste bile in the back of her mouth.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s soft voice breaks the silence and her hand comes to rest over Clarke’s, stilling her anxious movements. She drags her eyes up to look at Lexa, swallowing away the lump in her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She pushes away the plate immediately, easing down in the bed. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Lexa doesn’t let go of her hand, tightening her fingers. “Talking about it could help.”

“Lex,” She pulls her hand away so violently that Lexa flinches. The guilt swells in her again and she makes an effort to soften her tone. “I’m really okay, just so tired.” She gives a weak smile, but Lexa’s uneasy expression doesn’t shift. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help out with the kids more.”

At that Lexa’s face cracks, turning to earnest worry, “Of course not, you need to sleep.”

She just nods, so weary that she feels almost blank and Lexa runs a hand over her hair again, leaning in to kiss her softly.

---

Hours later, when Lexa slips into the room and begins changing into her pyjamas, Clarke rolls over to look at her. She is sweat soaked from the nightmares that plague her each time she closes her eyes and she feels dangerously close to tears again, fingers trembling. Lexa turns, catching her movement and stills, cringing apologetically.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Not really,” Her voice is croaking and she can barely look at Lexa as she speaks. “Actually, I think I want to be alone tonight.”

Lexa freezes where she’s pulling on her pyjama shorts and turns slowly to look at her, hesitant when she speaks. “But… we never sleep alone.”

“I know it’s just…” Clarke gestures aimlessly, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m so tired, it would be easier on my own tonight.”

It’s impossible to avoid the hurt expression on Lexa’s face, the way her expression twists and Clarke feels almost breathless with guilt.

“Right,” Lexa answers, lamely, after a moment of silence. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke watches her go and her stomach curls into knots again. She sees Lexa hesitate at the door, watches her silhouette turn and catches the wavering smile on her face, as false as the words that follow it.

“It’s okay. Sleep well.”

The door shuts quietly behind her and Clarke twists, curling herself around the comforter until she is completely cocooned and no one can see the tears trailing down her cheeks and feel the guilt that seems to itch under her skin.

---

The next morning she leaves before anyone else is awake. Even Lexa hasn’t yet left for her morning run and Clarke feels a flush of guilt when she scrawls a hasty message on the pad stuck to the front of the fridge. She arrives at the hospital almost an hour early for her shift, but the storm cloud expression on her face must be enough to warn people off because no one questions it when she scrubs up and pulls on her white coat.

The kids from the car accident are still crowding the wards. They’ve lost a few during the night and the sight of nurses and orderlies stripping back the newly empty beds made her stomach turn nastily, a twisting reminder that she hasn’t eaten anything since the night before. The morning slips by as if in a dream and she tries to stay as detached as possible, but can’t help the lump that works its way into her throat every time she watches a patience cry or ask for their parents. Everyone else seems to be hustling around as normal, if anything they are more focused and determined, but she feels distant and absent from her body, as if every is happening very far away from herself.

“Clarke,” Wells appears behind her as if by magic and she jolts, looking up from the chart that she’s consulting. He’s still in his scrubs from the night before and she’d bet he’s had barely any sleep judging by the bags under his eyes. “How are you doing? Still exhausted?”

“Nope,” She forces herself to smile, though it’s weak and quavering. “Ready to get to work.”

“You sure?” Wells knows her better than she would like to admit and his gaze is suspicious. “You look tired.”

“Not as tired as you,” She tries to keep her tone as light as possible, averting her eyes back to the chart. “Go get some sleep Jaha, I’ll can cover you until your shift ends.”

“I’m fine,” He shrugs her off determinedly but when his pager beeps he can’t hide the exhaustion in his eyes. “I have to be in surgery, sorry Clarke.”

“Wait,” She reaches out and catches him by the arm, eyeing him critically. “You can’t perform surgery right now, you’re dead on your feet.”

“I can,” His protest is half-hearted.

“As if, let me cover you.”

“Are you sure?” His brows crease, “You were pretty shaken up yesterday, are you okay to be in theatre again?”

“Of course I am,” Her mouth sets into a thin line, “I’m just looking over recoveries, you handle that while I fill in for you in surgery.”

“Okay,” He lets out a breath that makes him slump, as if all of the air has deflated from his body. “Okay fine, but page me if you need me.”

---

Scrubbing in takes no time at all and she tries to ignore the ghostly feeling of the blood against her hands, under her nails, along her wrists. The gloves feel slightly too tight and the mask is hot around her face, but before she can really think about it they are called in to begin the operation and she is forced to push the worries to the back of her mind. The theatre is clean and white and busy with people in green scrubs. So many hands for such a little body. She catches sight of the child sprawled across the operating table, heartbeat and breathing monitored by the machines keeping him alive, oxygen mask against his face. His ribs are bruised, his leg twisted at an odd angle and already bandaged, a simple break they sorted the night before.

This operation will be more difficult, a complication with his breathing that they suspect is caused by broken ribs piercing the lung, allowing it to fill with fluid. It’s easily fixed if caught early but with so much confusion and the boy barely conscious enough to explain the problem, it had been missed until his breathing had become laboured that morning.

“Griffin!” She is brought back to attention by the head surgeon and hurries to hand him the right tools, watching as he cuts through the boys chest.

She has been stationed close to the patient’s head and when she glances away from the intricacies of the operation she can see his face, sandy hair slicked to his forehead by sweat, two pert and plump lips and pale skin. He can’t be any more than seven, a little younger than Aden had been when he had first come to them and she feels her throat tighten at the comparison, her breath suddenly caught.

Fumbling, she hands the surgeon another tool when he requests it, but she can barely stand to tear her eyes away from the boy on the table. If he opened his eyes would they be green, like Aden’s? This could have been any one of their kids, it’s so easy for them to be hurt, even when Clarke and Lexa are there.

There is a sudden beeping, a bustle of alarmed voices and she hears one pierce through the ringing in her ears.

“He’s crashing!”

“No!” Her voice rips through the operating theatre and several people turn to stare at her, alarmed. “No, no he can’t be.”

“Move out of the way Griffin,” The head surgeon looks at her, concerned, “you’re doing more harm than good right now.”

“I just- he can’t-” The words choke her and she can feel the sweat beading against her neck even as the gooseflesh travels up her arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that she is having a panic attack, has talked Lexa through them before, but her brain can’t seem to process the idea that she is acting irrationally. Her knees shake beneath her and her colleague must notice because she reaches out at the last minute to catch her elbow, helping to steady her when the theatre spins around her.

“Get her out of here!” The head surgeon shouts and she just manages to leave the OR in time to vomit into a trash can in the corridor.

---

Wells find her in the on-call room. He slips inside quietly and though she knows it’s him, she doesn’t turn from where she is curled up, staring at the wall. He says nothing, just slips onto the bed beside her and places a hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently. She stays in her cocoon, struggling to breathe deeply and staving off the despair and humiliation that rages in her gut. Finally it is desperation that forces her to twist and ask, her voice croaking.

“The boy?”

“Made it out of surgery in one piece. He’s going to be fine.” Wells squeezes on her shoulder and she lets out a soft sigh of relief, mingling with a sob.

“I think… I need to go home.” She admits into the darkness and sees Well’s dimmed form nod.

“I already called Lexa, she’ll be home in half an hour. I’ll drive you back myself, my shift has just ended anyway.”

She’s too defeated to argue and swings her legs off the bed, sitting for a moment as she collects her bearings. “Everyone will hate me.”

“No they won’t,” Wells answers instantly, firm.

“I was weak, I freaked out in the middle of theatre Wells.”

“Clarke, listen to me,” He huffs, “You were in the thick of it yesterday, you saw some of the worst stuff and you’ve worked yourself to the bone, you have to give your mind and body time to recover.”

“There are other doctors who saw worse and they aren’t freaking out like this.” She spits, irrationally furious with Wells.

“You don’t know that! Plus they’re experienced, you’ve never seen this before.” Wells wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer even as she tries to struggle out of his grip. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

---

Wells is the perfect person to drive her home. He puts on some quiet, inoffensive talk radio and when they switch from talking about some movie to the news he changes the station so smoothly that Clarke barely realises he’s done it. She isn’t asked to talk, she isn’t given any further words of wisdom, instead she is allowed to lean her cheek against the cool window and listen to the radio and forget herself for a little while. Wells lets her sit in the car for a few moments when they pull up in the driveway. Lexa’s car is already there and Clarke thinks that she sees the curtains twitch, but no face appears. Slowly, she begins to unbuckle her belt and Wells turns to look at her, and says softly.

“Let Lexa help.”

She only nods, opening the door and swinging her legs out before she pauses to croakily thank him.

Lexa is sat conspicuously at the kitchen table when she opens the door and she looks up hurriedly when Clarke walks in. She is cradling a cup of something and another mug sits beside her. She offers a wavering smile and the soft kindness is enough to make Clarke crumble. Her eyes fill with tears and her knees tremble beneath her, hands reaching out to clutch at the wall and steady herself and Lexa’s eyes widen.

She stands from her chair, approaches tentatively as Clarke crumbles against the wall and when her shaking voice asks: “Clarke?” Clarke falls into her waiting arms.

It feels so good to be held, soothing hands in her hair and rubbing over her back, strong arms keeping her upright and Lexa smells familiar and calming when she buried her head into the crook of her neck. She’s wearing the cashmere sweater Clarke’s mom got her for Christmas last year and Clarke almost feels bad balling her hands into fists in the soft fabric, but it’s desperately grounding and she wonders if she doesn’t whether she will disintegrate.

She isn’t sure how long they stand in the hallway, leaning against each other. The only sound is Clarke’s hiccoughing sobs, snot snorting from her nose to cover the shoulder of Lexa’s lovely sweater. Lexa doesn’t hesitate or fidget, even after a few long minutes of holding Clarke’s weight and when she gently starts to guide Clarke to her room it takes them settling on the bed together for Clarke to realise where she is.

In a daze, she allows herself to be changed out of her clothes and into the soften pyjamas she has. Lexa wraps her up in her dressing gown and helps her settle under the covers, before she slides in behind her and wraps an arm around her waist.

---

A few hours later she wakes, groggy and disorientated. She’s stiff in a way that tells her that she has been sleeping deeply for a long time, barely moving and when she shifts onto her stomach and cranes her neck there is a flash of pain. Beside her, Lexa’s eyes are open and she watches quietly as Clarke comes back to herself. At some point she must have slipped out from behind Clarke to change into pyjamas, but there is a haziness to her gaze that tells Clarke that she’s been sleeping too. Her arm is still wrapped lightly around Clarke’s waist and when she sees her eyes flicker open there is a moment of hesitation before she slowly begins to draw away. On instinct, Clarke’s fingers wraps around hers and pull her back.

Their gazes meet and Clarke sees the fear in Lexa’s eyes, that she will once again turn her away. Softly, she squeezes her fingers and sees Lexa smile. It’s enough to lighten her heavy heart at least slightly.

“How are you feeling?” Lexa’s voice is rough and low.

“A little better,” Clarke admits, swallowing heavily. “Thanks for staying with me.”

Lexa’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Of course, always,” the promise is whispered fervently between their sheets, but Clarke carefully wraps it away to store between the folds of her chest. There is a moment of silence before Lexa says, unsurely. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Clarke’s eyes dart away and she has to take a moment to gather herself before she can answer. “Um, not really?” She tries for a smile, but it wavers.

“That’s okay,” Lexa answers immediately. “Whatever you want.”

Her gaze is so earnest that Clarke has to ease her eyes away and fix on a spot on the comforter. It’s a dark mark, from years ago when Lexa had spilt coffee all over her bed. She can distinctly remember the feeling of an arm around her shoulders, as if she was surrounded by tentative hope.

“I should tell you,” She confesses, quietly and Lexa’s fingers tighten around hers.

“You don’t have to,” Lexa insists, but Clarke shakes her head and burrows into the crook of Lexa’s shoulder. Arms slide around her like clockwork, pulling her closer instinctually and it’s too easy to sink into Lexa’s embrace and breathe in her soft scent. It feels like coming home and this is eventually what makes Clarke begin her story.

“Do you know about that bus accident? The one with all of the-” The word catches and tears in her throat, like silk against a nail. “The kids?”

Lexa nods wordlessly above her and Clarke curls her fingers into the washed out material of her shirt. It sits too big on her body, wrinkling beneath her and Clarke’s tears leave dark spots on the red fabric.

“Most of them came to our hospital.” Above her, she feels Lexa tense, but now she’s started she can’t stop. “Some of them were dead before they even came in. Most of them had to be rushed straight into surgery. It was…” Her voice breaks again and tears rush over the bridge of her nose. “It was horrible. There were so many of them and when I came home I couldn’t…” She trails off, the words are caught in her throat and when her hands curl into fists and her nails bite into the palms of her hands, she lets herself feel the pain because it’s real and it’s there. She leaves half crescent moons of white, but gentle fingers curl around hers and ease her hands to splay out before she can draw blood.

When she dares to lift her head, Lexa is watching her with painful tenderness.

“It’s okay,” She whispers, promises, and it is folded into Clarke’s heart like pressing flowers. She brings Clarke’s hands up to her lips and lays two kisses to each palm.

Clarke lets out a breath and it feels like a release.

“I couldn’t look at the kids without seeing them. Seeing all of their faces.”

There is a flicker in Lexa’s expression, a slice of agony through her eyes before it is expertly smoothed away.

“That’s okay,” Lexa reassures her, quietly. “I understand, you went through something traumatic.”

“It wasn’t traumatic,” Clarke spits the word out, suddenly angry, “everyone keeps saying it’s understandable but I’ve seen awful things in hospital before. This is just the same.”

“Things change when you have your own kids, it becomes personal.”

“I couldn’t… I kept thinking,” It hurts to keep going, but it’s too late to turn back so she steadies herself for Lexa to pull away. “I kept thinking: thank god it wasn’t any of them.”

Her shoulders are so tense that when Lexa runs a hand over them, she startles. Fearfully, she raises her eyes to meet Lexa’s, but they are free of disgust and anger. Instead there is sorrow and understanding.

“That’s okay Clarke,” She soothes a hand across her shoulders again. “Being a parent sometimes means being selfish. It’s okay.”

“But…” Her voice breaks over a sob and she curls herself closer to Lexa beneath the comforter. “I felt so guilty. I shouldn’t care about them more, I’m a doctor, I’m meant to care about everyone!”

“Clarke,” Lexa’s fingers beneath her chin nudge her gently and she peers up through watering eyes to see Lexa’s expression drawn with pain. “You may be a doctor, but you’re also human; it’s normal to be happy that they’re safe. You have a huge heart, if you didn’t you wouldn’t be so affected by this.”

“I’m just-” Her voice wavers again, but she keeps her eyes on Lexa, fingers tightening their grip on her. “I’m scared I’ll never be able to go back into the hospital and not see them- or even you- on one of those beds.”

“You will,” Lexa promises her firmly, “you love being a doctor too much to let this stop you.”

“But how can I ever forget those kids… the sight of them all-” She stalls over a sob, pushing the tears down in her throat and wiping irritably at her cheeks, tired of her tears. Soft fingers wrap around her hand, stilling it and Lexa gently unfurls her fingers from their tight fist, pressing a kiss to her palm that makes her blink back another swell of tears.

“Listen to me Clarke, please. There’s no way of knowing that the kids will always be okay, but we can’t live our whole lives worrying about them.” Lexa offers her a small smile, curling their fingers together. “All we can do is be thankful that they are and know that we’re blessed.”

“Blessed,” Clarke echoes, softly and the word opens up on her tongue like butter, filling her mouth with warmth.

“Blessed and lucky,” Lexa runs her thumb over Clarke’s knuckles. “And I know you’re going to go back, you know why?”

A faltering smile cracks across her face at Lexa’s tempting tone. “Why?”

“Because you’re a good person and if you can do anything to help other people, you will. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Her smile widens, watery, and she shakes her head, veering forward to press a kiss to Lexa’s lips. An arm curls around her and their clasped hands stay squished between them, above their hearts.

“You’re a sap,” She whispers against Lexa’s lips and feels them turn up beneath hers, before Lexa inches away to gaze down at her. The strength of the emotion in her eyes almost takes Clarke’s breath away as she says, seriously.

“You’re a miracle worker.” A moment of silence passes between them, before Lexa smiles a little, teasingly. “But even miracle workers need sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m not-” Her words are cut off by a jaw cracking yawn that makes Lexa laugh.

“Come on,” As Clarke shifts onto her other side, Lexa curls up behind her. “You’re as bad as Miya, get some sleep.”

---

When she wakes again, she can tell that it’s much later. The house is dark and still and Lexa’s body is warm and heavy beside hers, their feet touching beneath the comforter. She feels disorientated and her eyes are scratchy with the tears she shed hours ago into Lexa’s shirt. But her heart and her head are finally at peace with each other and when she sucks in a breath, it doesn’t tear at her lungs. It feels like progress.

At first, she’s not sure what woke her. Shifting in the bed, she eases herself up, blinking as her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. The alarm clock on the bedside table, an addition of Lexa’s, blinks 1:14 at her and she’s fumbling for where her phone is buried somewhere in the pillows when movement in the corner of her eyes catches her attention.

The door creaks on its hinges as it swings a little further open and she spies a small figure in the doorway. It’s a common enough occurrence now, with two children still young enough to regularly have nightmares, and one who will only sometimes admit to having them, but the little figure stays stuck to the doorway, staring at Clarke with wide eyes, instead of burrowing beneath their comforter.

“Tris?” Clarke eases herself out of bed, hoping not to wake Lexa. The floor is cold when her feet touch the ground and she grab a sweater from the end of the bed, pulling it on over her pyjamas.

Tris stays in the doorway, watching her, but Clarke can see that there are tears on her cheeks. She’s still young enough to be wearing her footsie pyjamas and she’s mclutching her stuffed lion in her hands. The sight of it makes Clarke’s heart clench, Tris had long ago grown tired of the toy, as children are like to do, but she always returns to it when she’s sad or lonely. When they had travelled to her parent’s this Christmas, the lion had almost been left behind and Tris had cried for twenty miles before they finally acquiesced and turned back.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her throat is still rough and her words catch and tear.

“Had bad dream.” Tris admits, her lower lip trembling and Clarke smiles ruefully.

“Do you want to get into bed with us?”

Tris’s little brows furrow and she looks between Clarke and the bed uncertainly, hands twisting the toy in her hands in a way that reminds Clarke unnervingly of Lexa.

“Aun-y Lexa says you’re poorly.”

Clarke pauses, her heart sinking and she glances back at Lexa’s sleeping form beneath the comforter. After a second of contemplation, she reaches out a hand for Tris to hold. “Let’s go cuddle on the couch and have a chat, hmm?”

Tris happily takes her hand and lets herself be led from the room. Clarke shuts the door quietly behind them and guides Tris into the living room, clicking on the lamp beside the couch to cast a soft, golden pool of light. Tris climbs happily into her lap when she gestures and Clarke takes the blanket off the back of the couch to swaddle them both in. It’s still early in the year and the nights haven’t quite warmed up. Tris nuzzles into her chest, a little arm happily curling around her while the other continues to clutch the lion.

“What did Aunty Lexa tell you, sweetie?” She smooths a hand over Tris’s soft hair. It’s finally long enough to pull into little pigtails and she’s had to talk Lexa out of braiding it.

Tris thinks for a moment, before recounting. “You poorly. Taking a nap.”

Clarke swallows and forces herself to concentrate on Tris in her arms for a second, warm and alive. Her voice is shaking a little when she answers. “Yeah, I was poorly.”

“Better now?” Tris asks, earnestly, peering up at her and Clarke gives her a nod.

“Much better. Your Aunty Lexa looked after me really well.”

“Really?” Tris smiles a little smugly, snuggling into her arms and her eyes droop a bit. “Aun-y Lexa fix you.”

“I know,” Clarke smiles fondly and soothes Tris’s back. “She’s wonderful.”

In her arms, Tris nods against her chest and Clarke rubs comforting circles against her back.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

Tris brows pull together, but she doesn’t return to her tears. She snuggles closer and Clark wraps her arms around her more securely, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“On my own.You and Aun-y Lexa and Miya and Aden all gone. And Comet.”

“Even Comet?” Clarke raises her eyebrows, surprised and concerned and Tris nods determinedly.

“Was lonely.”

“Oh baby,” She pulls Tris into her arms a little more securely, shifting her so that she’s almost cradled, like she used to do when Tris was a baby. “You’re not alone. You never will be, I promise. We’ll always be here for you, me and Aunty Lexa and your mom and your brother and sister.” She squeezes her. “You have so many people who love you, you know that?”

Tris nods sombrely. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Clarke lets her curl up against her, tucking the blanket closer around their bodies. Tris has fallen asleep and she is beginning to doze when the living room door eases open. She blinks her eyes open and frowns when she sees Miya stood in the doorway. “Not you too?”

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” Miya shakes her head, toeing her way across the room until she settles on the other side of Tris. “She came down a while ago, I was worried.” Miya looks suddenly older than her years and Clarke feels her heart clench when she sees the shadow of the woman Miya will become.

She opens her arms up and the little girl cuddles up on Tris’s other side, tucking her feet under the blanket. “You’re okay then?” Clarke asks quietly, over Tris’s sleeping head and Miya nods, looking at her anxiously.

“Are you?”

“I’m fine,” Clarke gives her a reassuring smile, squeezing her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Aunty Lexa said you needed to sleep.” Miya’s brows are still creased, uncertain and Clarke shakes her head.

“I’ve slept enough,” She promises and Miya settles into their embrace, forming a little cocoon around her sister.

Clarke looks down at them both and there is a twinge, a ghost of a memory. It must show on her face, because Miya asks, quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

Clarke’s eyes flicker down to her and she takes in the earnest blue eyes staring up at her. “Nothing,” She says and finds that she is telling the truth. Her heart feels full, but the sadness is only a shadow, emphasising the joy she feels at having her family close and safe. She tucks her arms around Miya and feels Tris shift in her arms. “I’m just happy that you’re both safe and happy.”

Miya hums, already fading into sleep again and Clarke runs a hand over her hair, soothing her to sleep. She spends at least an hour taking in their soft, sleeping faces, memorising every line and feeling blessed for it, before finally falling asleep.

When Lexa finds them in the morning, she wakes each one with a kiss and finds the shadows gone from Clarke’s eyes.

#clexa #fhau #clarke griffin #commander lexa #the 100 #clexa fanfic

[winchester-with-wings]

It’s All Just a Cover - Part 15 - Hell on Heels

SERIES MASTERLIST

YOUTUBE MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1800ish

Pairings: Rockstar!Reader x Dean, Rockstar!Gabriel x Sam

Series Summary: You’re the lead singer in a popular cover band. Your brother Gabriel is the drummer with signature candy cane drumsticks. Balthazar is the sexed up guitarist and Gadreel is the band’s stone faced bassist and songwriter. And Castiel is the band’s manager. You’re content living the facade of a rockstar lifestyle, trying to get signed to major label. But then one night, Gabe invites Sam Winchester backstage and his brother Dean comes with. Over time, the older Winchester ultimately makes you reconsider who you are and what you want.

Part 14 Summary: Country Night!

Wonderful Beta: @wonderlandforthemisfits​

A/N: Hope it’s alright?

Mobile Masterlist  / Ko-Fi

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

The Set-List:

“Hell on Heels” by Pistol Annies       “Crashed” by Daughtry

“I Got my Baby” by Faith Hill     “I Break Things” by Erika Jo

“Love Story” by Taylor Swift     “Before he Cheats” by Carrie Underwood

“Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift    “What Was I Thinking” by Dierks Bentley

“Barton Hollow” by The Civil Wars

“Don’t You Wanna Stay” by Jason Aldean & Kelly Clarkson

“The House Rules” by Christian Kane     “Better Dig Two” by The Band Perry

A few weeks later…

It’s mid afternoon when Dean rolls over in his bed, his arm reaching out to the cold space beside him. Finding no one there, he lifts his head to scan the room and look at the clock on the bedside table. He doesn’t always sleep at this time of day but when he does...it’s because the room smells like sex and the tender ache in his muscles reminds him that it was good enough for him to fall asleep afterwards.

He groans as he gets out of bed, finds his discarded boxers and follows the music coming from the bathroom. He finds you in his bathroom, a large towel wrapped around your body and music on playing through your cellphone.

You’ve just finished blow drying your hair. It’s not completely dry but just enough for you to straighten your hair with a wet-to-dry straightener. Your lips are moving along to the words of the music.

You see Dean in the mirror, leaning on the doorway and smiling fondly. You smile at your boyfriend, an invitation for him to approach you while the straightener warms up. He approaches you from behind, wrapping his strong, tanned arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Did you shower without me, babe?” he asks, kissing your neck.

“Yeah, I have to get ready for the show tonight.” Dean helps you (or is it sabotage?) by undoing your towel so that you’re both looking at your naked body in the mirror. Dean’s hands roam up and down your sides. You love the feeling of his callused hands on your soft skin. But you resist your mutual insatiable appetites and put on your bra and panties.

“Oh, that’s why you’re listening to a country playlist,” Dean realizes. You nod.

Tonight is the first time Heaven’s Rebellion has had a country night. Sure some Friday nights, you’d drift into country rock but the response from the fans had proven that at least one country night was due for a change.

It’s a Wednesday night show and while it’s at The Bunker, it’s in a different part of the venue: the bar where people commonly hang out when there isn’t a concert. There’s a small, lifted stage in the bar and that’s where you’ll be playing. At little less rock star, and a little more coffee house open mic night.

Dean watches you straighten your hair. It doesn’t take long since the sides of your head are shaved, thereby thinning out the hair that you part down the middle so your hair covers the shaved sides. You contemplate putting them in pigtails or braids but figure that might be too much and make you look too young.

After turning off the music on your phone, you strut past Dean and back into his bedroom. You pack your hair dryer and straightener into your overnight bag, the thing you live out of when spending the night at Dean’s house. Even though Sam lives with him, it’s still easier to have alone time with your boyfriend here without your entire band around, being nosy.

You pick up one of Dean’s shirts from a chair in the corner. You slide on the blue plaid flannel and turn around to face Dean.

“So what do you think?” you ask Dean in reference to your outfit consisting of a matching set of lavender bra and panties with the open and over-sized flannel. “Does this look country?”

Dean responds by crossing the room, scooping you up with his large hands on the back of your thighs and then setting you down on his short dresser, his tapered hips fitting between your legs. One of his hands cradles the back of your head as he kisses you hungrily. You pull back momentarily.

“So what does that mean?” Dean shrugs and kisses you once more. “I guess that’s a yes?”

“Well you know...if you want to save a horse, you could definitely ride this cowboy,” Dean smirks at you, proud to make you laugh as he pulls your body towards him without regard to anything else on the surface of his dresser. You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his mouth, succumbing to pleasure.

Country Night means the acoustic guitars get more use and more songs sang by women. You’re looking forward to that range and so are the boys but then you’d realized that you’d need more female voices to back you up.

Jo and Pam eagerly accept your invitation to sing with Heaven's Rebellion.

The audience is smaller. You still can't see them. Balthazar and Gadreel pick at their guitars. A few people cheer but for the most part the crowd is silent, letting the music build. Gabe starts to pick up a beat and you tap your heel in sync.

The room is completely dark and the lights rise and you, Jo, and Pam take center stage.

“I'm hell on heels / Say what you will / I've done made the devil a deal / He made me pretty / He made me smart / And I'm going to break me a million hearts / I'm hell on heels, baby I'm comin' for you…”

There’s a few verses where only one of you ladies sing.

Pam takes the first one with all the right gestures. “This diamond ring on my hand / Is the only good thing that came from that man / Got a GTO from one named Joe / And a big piece of land down in Mexico / I'm hell on heels, baby I'm comin' for you.”

Jo’s voice is only slightly higher. “I got a pink guitar, a Lincoln Town Car / From ol' what's his name I met at a bar / Got a high-rise flat in Hollywood / From a married man who wasn't up to no good / I'm hell on heels, baby I'm comin' for you.”

“Then there's Jim, I almost forgot,” you sing with a smirk. “I ran him off, but I took the yacht.” You can see Dean in the front row, off to your left. He’s smiling like a dork, thoroughly amused by the lyrics he’s never heard before. “Poor ol' Billy, bless his heart / I'm still using his credit card / I'm hell on heels, Sugar Daddy I'm comin' for you.”

There are new faces in the crowd. A new audience for this new genre of Heaven's Rebellion. When you address the crowd between songs, it’s easy to get carried away with the twang of saying “ya’ll” and “darlin.” The audience is receptive to Pam and Jo too!

You feel more relaxed as you sing Daughtry’s “Crashed”, Faith Hill’s “I Got My Baby”, Erika Jo’s “I Break Things,” and even Taylor Swift’s “Love Story”.

It's easier to personify country. It's fun and lighthearted, but still strong as you belt “Before He Cheats.” You definitely smile more, whereas with rock, you're smirking and grimacing most often.

There are still regulars in the crowd, enduring and maybe even enjoying the country music. Dean is one of them. He tries to hide it but he definitely enjoyed “Shake It Off.”

Balthazar and Gadreel sing too and women in the crowd fall in love with them even more.

Gadreel sings Dierks Bentley’s “What Was I Thinking.” You enjoy the duets as you sing “Barton Hollow” by the Civil Wars with Balthazar.

“Ain't going back to Barton Hollow / Devil gonna follow me e'er I go / Won't do me no good washing in the river / Can't no preacher man save my soul...”

And then the Jason Aldean song you’d originally planned to sing the night Meg and Ruby had come into the club. You channel your inner Kelly Clarkson for that one. Jo plays the piano that’s rolled onto stage beside Gabe’s drum stand.

Gadreel starts the song: “I really hate to let this moment go / Touching your skin and your hair falling slow / When a goodbye kiss, feels like this.”

You sing the chorus together: “Don't you wanna stay here a little while / Don't you wanna hold each other tight / Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight / Don't you wanna stay here a little while / We can make forever feel this way / Don't you wanna stay.”

You hold onto the mic with both hands, letting the music flow through you. “Let's take it slow / I don't wanna move too fast / I don't wanna just make love / I wanna make love last.” Is it just a coincidence that you make eye contact with Dean as you sing? Probably not.

Some faster paced songs actually get people dancing. That’s something you’ve never seen at a rock concert! And then Chuck (the owner of The Bunker!) actually comes onto stage at one point to play the harmonica into a microphone.

You back up Balthazar both with a guitar and vocals when the chorus comes. “Welcome to my house, buckle up tight / Everybody sings and drinks, laughs and gets high. / It's a country music, a little soul, / It's a rock 'n roll rodeo. / We don't tolerate no sitting around / Everybody's dancin', groovin' and getting on down. / So before you come in here with some kind of attitude / You better read the house rules.”

The last song is by The Band Perry. You feel like you could keep going; your voice isn’t rough from singing deeper in order to mimic male performers. But it’s late and everyone’s fingers are tired from playing various guitars. You sway side to side as Balthazar picks at the strings. The tired crowd claps along with you.

“I told you on the day we wed / I was gonna love you 'til I's dead / Made you wait 'til our wedding night / That's the first and the last time I wear white.” You wink at Dean and you can tell he laughs, even though you can’t hear him. “So if the ties that bind ever do come loose / Tie them in a knot like a hangman's noose / 'Cause I'll go to heaven or I'll go to hell / Before I'll see you with someone else / Put me in the ground / Put me six foot down / And let the stone say: / Here lies the girl whose only crutch / Was loving one man just a little too much / If you go before I do / I'm gonna tell the gravedigger that he better dig two.”

The lights black out the moment you say the final words: “I told you on the day we wed / I was gonna love you 'til I's dead.”

A beat of silence passes before the crowd bursts into applause.

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#Dean Winchester #Dean x Reader #Dean Winchester x Reader #Rockstar AU #my writing #spn au #spn imagine #spn fanfic #Rockstar!au #Jensen Ackles #Country Music #Dirty Supernatural Imagine #spn smut