#he reminds me of myself when i was twelve and in denial | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soleilnomoon · 1 year

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Hi again! Still absolutely adore your Kid fic from your last event 💜 Never got around to asking for a Sanji one, so here I am again😅 But seriously, congrats on over 550 followers!! Love seeing your blog grow, cause you’re really talented and deserve them all and legit can’t wait til you hit 1k+ 🥰

For the event order, may I please ask for a #1 with my boi Sanji, with anmitsu, konpeito, and keylime pie and with honey, please? 🥹 i hate this but need some sanji angst 😭

I also dunno if these three would work particularly well together for a prompt, so you can choose whatever! just really feeling angst and sanji rn and maybe comfort if you’d like 🥰

Thank you for all your works you’ve done so far 💜💜

hiiii omg haha i loved that fic fr (i'm obsessed w that man!!!) also ily for requesting sanji i don't write him nearly enough 🥰️ but thank you sm!! 😭 making me all soft and i am so so sorry this took forever, as u know i am so slow but!!! i had fun tormenting sanji w the angst ngl 💓💓💓💓 also those were great choices for the prompt, i wanted to write more but it would've been 8k words before i finished and who has time for that (i do, but listen... that's besides the point) ✨

2k words, fem reader (honestly gn too now that i think abt it), sfw (SHOCKING i know), 18+ mdni, a lil bit suggestive but nothing wild, angst angst angst city babey, fluff if you squint, also i gave u comfort bc u deserve it bb 💗(and sanji does too); feat. sanji being in denial forever and ever, mutual pining, fake unrequited love, reader is determined and sanji is a coward; also i made myself sad writing this but a good sad bc sanji deserves happiness and i'll fight oda if he doesn't get it i s2g... (if u see grammar mistakes/spelling errors... no u didn't 💗)

“loving each other began this way: threading / loneliness into loneliness / patiently, our hands trembling and precise.” — yehuda amichai

STEP 01:

what does it take to kill a soul? —

a question that’s posed unironically, without a hint of remorse or tact, the words precise and venomous, slicing through the thick veneer that he’s carefully crafted. he’s never been able to answer that question — not at six years old, not twelve or fifteen, and not at twenty-one. his siblings took pleasure in taunting him with seemingly philosophical questions, ones that clamped down onto his thoughts with heavy shackles.

even after he’s extracted himself from that life, he can’t scrub those memories from his mind — no matter how hard he tries. they sit, still raw and bloody, giving rise to unpleasant emotions that make his stomach churn from so many things left unsaid. he never set out to be a pirate, but piracy has given him the sort of freedom that he could only wish for as a child.

it’s with tender hands, with nimble yet graceful fingers, and with a fastidiousness that puts him in a category of his own, that he creates and creates and creates —

he’s told he’s an artist, which only pushes him to work harder, to be better. and when he asks himself why, he doesn’t have an answer. or, rather, the answer he does have only serves as a punishing reminder that he’ll never be good enough. no matter how many times his crew mates thank him — their emphatic, genuine praise a soft, warm breeze against his heart, gentle caresses that he commits to memory — despair still manages to infiltrate, a darkness choking out what little light he has left inside of him.

STEP 02:

how far are you willing to go to reach the truth? —

when you join the crew, he’s unnerved by your presence, which is wholly unlike him. usually, he’s able to put on his façade of the flirtatious cook, one that’s jovial and sociable, that lives to serve and please those around him. his first conversation with you ends in disaster; he spills the drink he tried to pour for you, despite your insistence that you are perfectly capable of pouring your own drink — and he knows it’s not out of malice, but it cuts into him all the same.

he tries again and again, bringing you little treats that you only agree to eating if he sits and eats with you; confusion eats away at his mind, and when he opens his mouth to decline, you pat the seat next to you and he acquiesces. he sits stiffly, at first, unsure of why he always feels on edge around you — an irritating need to impress you in a way he’s never wanted to for others grows stronger by the day.

you think it’s cute that he always seems flustered around you — that he stumbles over his words, refuses to hold eye contact with you for longer than thirty seconds — you also think it’s cute that the false bravado that he puts on for the world, diminishes immediately the second you come close to him. if he’s skittish, it’s because you always catch him staring at you; despite his quick reflexes, his reactions around you are slow but pure — childish, almost.

lately he’s clumsier and scatterbrained, nearly burning dinner when you decide to keep him company. you lean against the countertop, a teasing smile on your face — the same one that that caused him to bump his forehead against the cabinet door earlier — as you prattle on about a dream you had. he can barely keep up, his eyes drifting from the skillet to your face, gliding around the curve of your cheek, dipping lower in a slow descent along your neck.

he blinks repeatedly when he reaches your clavicle, stunned at his restraint; and it’s only when you call his name loudly that he realizes he’s left the heat on for too long.

“are you okay?” you ask when you see that he’s fussing over how best to save the dish, mouth moving as he quietly mutters to himself. he barely registers your voice, as an insidious one whispers harshly into his ears about his perpetual incompetence and lack of talent.

you can see that he’s retreated even further into his mind, a feat that also leaves you frustrated. you want to shake him but refrain and grab his hand instead. he snaps out of whatever stupor that held him captive just moments ago, lips parting as he sighs softly before glancing down at you.

“thank you.”

the words are quiet, but impactful, as he didn’t think he’d be able to get them out. you let go of his hand too soon, but he doesn’t say anything else, choosing to focus on cooking than embarrassing himself again in front of you.

you take his silence as a silent dismissal, but you don’t fight him on it — it’s bitter, that sort of rejection, and you swallow back your argument with great difficulty.

STEP 03:

what’s the difference between cowardice and self-preservation? —

frustration bubbles underneath his skin when he can’t find where he placed his lighter; he runs a hand through his hair and tugs on impulse, accidentally ripping a few strands from his scalp. they swirl and tumble onto the ground, pathetic in a way — just like me, but he never really says that out loud. he doesn’t hear your footsteps, although you did your best to remain as quiet as possible.

a cigarette sits in between his lips, and he has half a mind to toss it over the railing of the ship, but a warmth suddenly appears in front of him in the form of a flame. you found his lighter on the floor earlier and meant to give it to him, but every time you got closer, he found every excuse to leave. you don’t realize the impact you have on him — not really, anyway — because he’s genuinely surprised that you can’t hear the heavy beats of his heart that grow more intolerable the longer he hangs around you.

always afraid of being found out, he opts to keep his distance. it’s easier this way, he tells himself, better. but he doesn’t quite believe that; the evidence is plain as day when his tongue feels like its grown three sizes in the span of seconds, where his words get lost and forgotten. it’s all your fault, he reasons; you who insists on talking candidly with him, who insists on listening to him ramble about his dreams, who absolutely insists on stubbornly tearing down his walls, steadily chipping away without a care in the world. he looks at you as if you are the source of all his problems, but he also looks at you as if you’re the solution.

the intensity behind his stare makes your hands tremble slightly, it’s a miracle you’ve managed to keep yourself composed for this long. you light the end of his cigarette with ease, as if you’ve done this for him hundreds of times —and place the lighter into his pants pocket afterwards. if he wasn’t so used to you getting in his personal space all the time, he’d retreat immediately. the proximity is almost too much for him, but he doesn’t step back; you take that as a good sign and keep him company for a few minutes.

you don’t care for the smell of smoke, but on him it smells good. you almost tell him that, but instead bite down on your lip and keep your comment at bay, nerves getting the best of you as you nearly choke on the possibility that your feelings won’t be reciprocated.

another time, maybe. cheeks flushed, you turn your face to look elsewhere. although, you wonder if there ever will be another time. with him, you never know.

he’s still trying to figure you out and why he feels a different sort of calm around you; it’s alarming and new, drumming up an irrational fear within him. he doesn’t think he’s deserving of your attention or affection, and he’s convinced himself that you don’t harbor any romantic feelings for him. and why would you?

one by one, his thoughts pummel into him, acerbic and overwhelming. he exhales a sliver of smoke and puts the cigarette out. he gives you a quick, apologetic look before telling you goodnight, the smile on his face is melancholic and barely existent. you don’t dare say a word, keep your lips pressed together stubbornly; exasperated and dejected, you don’t know what’s worse — his inability to lower his guard around you for longer than ten minutes, or your inability to stop yourself from trying to carve pieces of yourself to give to him.

maybe if you helped him fill the gaping holes in his heart, he’d truly understand how you feel.

STEP 04:

if you had to do it all over again, would you do anything differently? —

sleep evades you after that night, and the night after that, and so forth; it gets so bad that you’re yawning in the middle of the day, falling asleep before you can have a cup of coffee or tea. this does not go unnoticed by the others, and after talking with nami, you feel less out of your element and finally can see the parts of sanji that he wants to keep hidden. her advice is simple: approach slowly and with intent; corner him and don’t let him escape.

you bide your time, full confident that you can find a moment to sit down with him and talk this all out. it doesn’t come easy, but franky mysteriously swaps sanji for the night’s watch — something that should strike you as odd, but it’s a small opening that you take without thinking as you hurriedly climb up to the crow’s nest with a renewed sort of energy.

even with his eyes closed, as he sits lazily on the bench with head tilted back against the wall, he knows it’s you.

“go back to bed,” he says firmly, refusing to look at you.

your stubbornness, unfortunately, wins out. “i’m staying.” at that he sits up, his attention completely on you as his eyes widen at your words. he wants to ask you why, but cowardice wins out — again. as his features soften, a flush crawls along his face, lightly painting his cheeks pink. he closes his eyes again, tries to steady his breathing as he counts backwards, only for his efforts to be obliterated with ease the moment you sit next to him.

as your thigh presses against his, you take his hand and on impulse you trace your fingertip along the lines on his palm. he watches you with a morbid fascination that scares him; but then you start to say things like, “you will live a very long life,” and “you are courageous, and you have a big heart.”

a small part of him wants to pull his hand away, so you won’t say anything else — but he remains put, so still that you almost think he’s stopped breathing. your voice is sweet and disarming, even when you carry on this charade of reading his palm. a belated realization hits him forcefully, making him blink several times; it dawns on him that you’ve always been so kind and gentle with him, even when you teased him. he’s spent all this time overthinking and hiding behind his past, that it never occurred to him that he could have simply let you in. you’ve never given him reason to believe that you’d betray or harm him intentionally.

he takes a deep breath, voice a little uneven, “i—”

you lean in close, adoration dripping onto your words as you interrupt him. “hey, have i told you?” the question glides along his skin, the words seeping into him as you continue, the lilt in your voice a honeyed, melodic spell. “you remind me of starlight and the mysteries of space.” your lips brush against his when you tell him that, and a warmth settles into the middle of his chest, makes it hard to focus. he doesn’t think when he curls his fingers around yours and doesn’t think when heleans down to kiss you — tender yet electrifying all the same.

the move disarms you in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, so you simply hum in approval and lean your head against his shoulder. a comfortable silence settles around you both, but you don’t mind that at all; it’s nice, not having to tip-toe around him anymore, and the demons that plagued him for so long don’t seem so intimidating with you by his side.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece angst #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji angst #sanji fluff #i love sanji a normal amt as u can tell

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

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constant craving | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: drabble series, angst, unrequited love, idiot!jungkook, idiot!oc, basically everyone's an idiot

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: unreciprocated pining, explicit language, themes of hopeless romanticism (!!), (slightly) unedited

⇢ summary: your best friend decided to confide in his best friend on how to win his girlfriend back after a fight. you tell him exactly what to say to her, however he is unaware that what you were saying was a sincere delivery of your once undeclared love.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: hello my little loves!! this was definitely ;) not ;) an impulse write and release ;) ;) sorry for being so inactive lately. i've been focusing on myself (i know how cliche that sounds but it's true). anyway, enjoy this incredibly angsts fic i wrote at 2 am for absolutely no reason at all other than i'm an emotional sadist and a masochist. love u!!!! <3

part one: control

He was coming over for the third time this week. Third time. Three times is two more times than he'd gone over his girlfriend's house, but you did everything in your power to convince your inconvincible heart that it meant nothing. Friends see each other more than their girlfriends, right?

It was making a racket in your chest, that muscle that strained much harder for a man who had his pumping for the girl of his dreams.

But, he was coming over for the third time this week.

The first time he said this visit ranked, in his words, 'out of the question' on the degree of necessary that he come over and show you Star Wars. You played a good game of reluctance when asking if it was the entire series or just one movie, and in your head, you hoped to God it was the entire series. For him, you'd watch the series four times over if it meant you sat through this outrageously nerdy movie next to the even more outrageously nerdy love of your life.

The second time was particularly funny to you. He called while you were cooking dinner, almost as if he was in stride with you in a way that was an ounce too synchronized to be platonic, and asked if you were whipping up a delicious meal that he could mooch off of. Knowing he was a terrible cook, plus the fact that when he begged so politely you felt your posture unbind into to a puddle, you more than happily obliged.

This time, the circumstances made it harder to say yes, but not yet impossible. And it was a second or two before you heard that knock on the front door that had your once pounding heart come to a complete halt. It was still, waiting for you to make a decision.

Since it was Jungkook, of course, you'd say yes. And your heart would continue beating. Beating, as in sending sharp jabs that stained the inside of your chest with bruises. Beating, as in when the time came, the final blow of your constantly craving heart would devastate your entire being.

"Thank you so much, ___. God, I'm such an idiot." He walked in with all the confidence of someone who was a bit too familiar with your company. Jungkook's feet reintroducing themselves to your floors in the same manner as he would the night before, and the night before that, and the countless nights you kept secured in your collection of memories. As if he belonged there; as if he was coming home.

"An idiot with a great friend." That last word nearly withdrew the bile you had been ever so gracefully holding in.

"Yeah yeah." And he was comfortable with that same word, 'friend', that deepened your bruises into scars. He had absolutely no clue. Idiot. "I can't believe I broke up with her. I was so angry and acted on that instead of logic. Fuck, why would I do that to myself? I love her."

"Well, you never know. Maybe..." You hated yourself for not resisting the selfish temptation that was about to fall from your lips. The words you've been internally screaming to him to leave her and fall in love with you instead were diluted to something much more tame when your tongue formed them into sound.

"Maybe it was for the best. Maybe you guys are better off apart? To, um, grow or whatever."

"No." He said that with too much certainty and too little hesitance and just enough conviction to sink another wound in the organ exhausting itself in your chest. "She's the one. I know it"

"Jungkook."

He looked at you with all the earnestness of a man who carved his utmost and unchanging dedication to her. A look that any love-induced sap would kill for. A look he would never direct towards you.

Your eyes weren't under your control as of now. The glue that held them to his eyes, his lips, his hair, and every other part of him you dreamed of was more than a marathoned yearning. It was an adhesive twelve years in the making, not showing the slightest sign of wearing away.

"The way you love is something to die for..." And then he smiled at you, but still not for you.

You were utterly crushed.

"She'll take you back in a heartbeat. I mean, she has a brain, so of course, she will. Anyone would."

I would.

"I hope you're right." The couch was four feet wide at most, but there was an impressively vast space between you and the man who was sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what to say? You know I suck with words."

"Uh... Yeah. Of course. Anything."

If breaking hearts were a crime, then Jungkook would have much to atone for. You'd be convicted as a willing accomplice for holding on this long. Up until this point, you've let every small glance, every shy smile he sent your way, every eyebrow twitch conveying a meaning only you knew well enough to retrieve him from whatever awkward situation he needed rescuing from, every accidentally brush of his hand against yours, every purposeful embrace that lasted so long your tears stained his right shoulder string you into a knot of miserable, unrequited love.

And up until this point, you had hope he would choose you.

Each ring of his phone worked in tandem to reduce your undying devotion to Jungkook into a compressed seed of denial.

I don't love him. He's just my best friend.

Your pulse pronounced itself loudly in your ears, as a not-so-gentle reminder of how much you hated him for loving him. Somehow, your heart beat faster. Then again, anything was possible when it came to him. Anything except the miraculous event of him hanging up, declaring his love for you, and living in the land of happily ever after that only existed in your deluded imagination.

"Hey Irene! I'm so fucking glad you picked up."

He gave you that look. With the arched eyebrow, his widened doe eyes, and the slightly hung jaw, you read each feature better than words and nodded to signal you knew exactly what he needed.

"I'm sorry about what happened." You said, in a whisper, though the deflated volume of your words carried no implication of the unbridled sincerity sealed in them.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He repeated, laying down that same Irene-contrived smile on you that fostered a smile of your own, knowing fully it surfaced as a reflex from hearing her voice.

"It might be crazy to try this, because I don't know how you feel."

If the thing people say about your life flashing before your eyes during encounters with death, then you were sure your heart was about to consume its last pulse of blood. The scenes of you and Jungkook spending your Friday nights when you were a ripe city dweller in your shoebox apartment doing everything and nothing at all had convinced you that you were certainly about to go into cardiac arrest.

"It might be crazy to say this, because I don't know how you feel." Jungkook was so many things, however emotionally perceptive was not one of them.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you." Those words tasted sweet despite fermenting in a chamber of your heart you kept preserved since, as you said, the very moment you met him.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you."

"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."

He repeated your words, but dehydrated all of your sentiment from them. You were left with the remnants of the feelings, and none of the words from him you were so desperately starved of. He took them right from your throat, along with the very breath that seemed to keep returning because of Jungkook, molded them into his own, into a sequence of sounds that were meant for Irene. You were left hungry, breathless, and forever wanting.

Irene must have been smiling right about now. Who wouldn't smile hearing those things from someone like Jungkook?

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Then, you began to ask yourself another question.

If you make me complete, Jungkook, will my story ever end?

You knew the answer to that. You swore your heart beat in a morse code that told you everything you needed to know.

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Jungkook looked to you, before Irene could form the proper response, and smiled. It was the third time he smiled at you today because of course, you were keeping track. You knew it was his own physically linguistic version of a 'thank you' or a 'you're a life saver' but somehow, to you, it translated to something similar to a 'goodbye'.

Your legs miraculously rose and carried you to the back porch. The sun was just beginning to dip in the horizon, proliferating a warm orange that was about to subside to an indistinguishable and unpredictable dusk. Whatever color came after the sunset, you were ready to accept it, to memorize how it reflected against a world without the possibility of him. And even though the night will always embody undertones of orange, it was time to focus on the colors around it.

It was time to let go.

a/n: i might make this into a drabble series!!! if anyone would be interested in that please let me know :)) thank you for readinggggg <3

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts writing #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook #constant craving #rubycoast

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minimitchell · 3 years

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callumhighwayweek day 6 - “I’m glad I met you.” (ao3 link)

“Ben, can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Callum watches Ben heave out a heavy breath, letting himself fall into the chair next to him. The seats they’re in are incredibly uncomfortable and sitting in them for longer periods of time makes his butt go all numb so he could use a walkabout himself, but he also doesn’t want Ben to get even more nervous than they both already are.

They’ve been here for hours now. So long that Callum has memorized every single little detail of the room by now. He can point out every crack in the walls, every pamphlet that’s a little too crooked in the display case on the far wall, can tell you all about the way the big clock’s minute hand stops right before the twelve and then has to rush to catch up again.

The baby pink of the walls around them doesn’t prove to be quite as soothing as he thinks the NHS would’ve hoped it would be, and as soon as Ben’s back in his seat, he starts shaking his leg up and down in nervous anticipation.

When they first got here nearly four hours ago, they had thought it wouldn’t be a long wait. After an hour with no new developments, Callum got up to get them both some coffee, what with it nearing one in the morning at that point. It tasted like shit but at least they felt marginally more awake afterwards.

It’s more the nerves keeping them awake anyways. The uncertainty is hard to wade through and now, after three more hours of complete standstill, Ben’s nerves are completely fried. To an outsider Callum is probably looking much calmer than Ben is but that really isn’t the case at all. He keeps wringing his hands together, twisting and turning the white gold band sitting on his left ring finger.

At first, they kept having to send texts to the few family members that decided to stay up with them. But as the clock passed two in the morning, Ben told his mum to go to bed with the promise that they’d call if they had any news.

Callum is beginning to think they could still be hours away from that though.

“God, I hate waiting. Not knowing what’s happening, it’s driving me insane.”

Callum reaches over to lay one of his hands on Ben’s knee, stilling the bouncing with one well-placed touch. He’s so incredibly thankful he’s had Ben next to him these last few months but right now his husband does nothing to calm Callum’s own nerves.

He’d even go as far as saying he wouldn’t have made it without him but he knows the same goes for Ben. Thank god they had each other through it all; always alternating between who’s the nervous one and who’s calming the other.

“I know, babe. You’re the most impatient person I know. And that includes Lexi.”

It’s definitely true. Ben’s never been good at the whole patience and waiting on things aspect of life but it’s not like they were able to speed things up with this whether they wanted to or not; bound to a mixture of science and nature from start to finish.

He’s gotten better over the years though. Callum likes to think him and Lexi have done wonders in smoothing out many of Ben’s rougher edges and he’s definitely better than he was years ago when they met - in almost every aspect of his life.

As is Callum, needless to say.

“At least we know she’s alright. They’d tell us if something was wrong, right?”

“Of course they would.”

Callum didn’t think he’d be this nervous when the time finally came but the second they got the phone call last night he’d started panicking. They might’ve had over six months to actively prepare for this moment but now that it’s actually happening, it’s even scarier than Callum ever imagined it would be.

Because this is about his baby, their baby, being born a few rooms away from here.

They had started talking about it a little after getting married and moving into their own place. Callum loves the little family of three they had before they decided to have another kid, but he couldn’t stop the wish of his own child with Ben slowly brewing in his chest. It kept festering until he just blurted it out one day at lunch, much to Ben’s surprise.

After that, it was mostly about figuring out if they can afford it, about what their options are and whether they feel ready to have a baby. It wasn’t an easy journey but now, over one and a half years later, they’re finally here; finally about to meet their little girl.

Ben tangles their fingers together on his thigh, squeezing Callum’s hand in his. It’s his own personal way of letting Callum know he needs him right now, so he pulls Ben into his chest, letting him tuck his head under Callum’s chin. His free hand comes to rest on Callum’s stomach, gripping the hoodie he’s thrown on before they drove to the hospital.

“Bit mad, innit. That we got here, how we got here.”

It brings a smile to his lips, because it really is a bit mad. How they went from being at each other’s throat to happily married. How Callum went from being so deeply closeted to expecting a baby with his husband. It’s crazy to think how much his life has changed since he moved to Walford - and that’s mostly down to the man right next to him.

“Hm. I wouldn’t have believed it when we first kissed.”

Internalized homophobia and denial aside, Callum doesn’t think he would’ve ever thought Ben Mitchell was the type to settle down and get married. And Callum wouldn’t have thought he would settle down with Ben either, not at that time at least, but here they both are. Ben likes to call it a happy coincidence but to Callum it’s nothing less than fate.

“Some night that was, eh.”

“First night I felt really free.”

Ben shifts under him, turning his head so he can look up into Callum’s eyes, face soft and eyes gentle as he regards Callum. They’ve talked a lot about that night during the course of their relationship. About what it meant for them respectively, how it basically kickstarted Callum’s coming out, how it was the start of Ben slowly falling for him.

They don’t need to hash it out again but it’s always nice to remember how much that night meant to both of them; how much it still means even after years of making memories together.

“You freed me too. Saved me from myself, didn’t you.”

Ben’s finger keeps running over the cold metal of Callum’s ring, gliding from left to right and back again. Callum has noticed him doing that a lot, when they’re laying in bed at night or lounging on the couch in front of the TV, their hands tangled together and fingers dancing over each other’s skin almost absentmindedly.

The meaning behind the gesture makes him emotional every time he sees Ben doing it. It almost feels like Ben does it to remind himself that this is real; that they’re joined for life because they truly love each other.

Suddenly, it becomes the most important thing to let Ben know he does.

“Love you.”

Ben’s expression softens even further, leaning up a little to press a soft, chaste kiss to Callum’s lips. Callum runs his forefinger over the soft skin of Ben’s throat and up his chin, dropping his hand again when Ben leans back down.

It still knocks Callum for six to know that Ben is his; that he gets to share his life with this man, have a family with him and make him happy every single day of their life. He’s been supportive of every choice Callum makes and it hasn’t been any different with this.

There were a lot of nights sleep hadn’t found Callum because he was too busy worrying about being a dad to a newborn baby. He hadn’t come into Lexi’s life until she was already her own little person, how could they be sure he won’t mess their kid up. Ben had heard him out each and every time though, had reassured him that he was a natural dad and promised him they would figure this all out together.

It’s only because of Ben he feels ready to be here.

Ready to finally hold his baby girl in his arms.

“You can take a quick nap if you want. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

As if on cue, a tired yawn claws itself out of Ben’s mouth and he drops his head back down onto Callum’s chest, nose buried in the soft, grey fabric of Callum’s hoodie. It’s past four o’clock now and they haven’t slept a bit since getting up for work yesterday morning, but he also knows that Ben is as stubborn as ever and there’s no way he’ll go to sleep now - not when they’re waiting with bated breath for their baby.

“Don’t wanna. Just wanna see our baby. I wanna know if she has your cute nose and your pretty dimples. God, I hope she has your eyes.”

“I hope she has yours. Hopefully your ears as well.”

Their laughter is barely audible in the waiting room, just soft huffs shared in the little space between them. They didn’t want to know who the biological father is going to be; it didn’t matter to them. Besides, speculating is too much fun anyway. And really, as long as their baby is happy and healthy, it doesn’t matter to them.

“I’m glad I met you. I’m glad we can sit here today, even if we’re both dead tired, and wait for our baby to be born. Glad we got here in the end.”

He can feel Ben press a kiss to his chest, squeezing the hands still linked together on Ben’s thigh to let Callum know he feels the same way. They don’t need words, they never did.

“Mr. and Mr. Mitchell?”

They look over at the nurse at the same time, Ben’s head darting up from Callum’s chest and straightening his back. The woman has a kind smile on her face and just seeing her after the many hours of waiting they’ve done already, calms something in Callum’s stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ready to meet your new baby?”

The big smile on her face must be mirrored on both his and Ben’s as well and she waits for them to get up from their seats before she beckons them to follow her down the corridor. Callum sees Ben blow out a deep breath beside him and he reaches his hand back out to him, smiling when their hands clasp back together like two magnets finding one another.

He can feel his heart hammering inside his chest, the nervousness coming back to him full force all of a sudden, but he knows it’s going to be alright as long as Ben is by his side.

It always is.

#chweek2021 #callumhighwayweek2021 #ballum fic #my writing #apparently day 6 is future family fic day with these prompts for me

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lucas-koh · 3 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XII

Parts 1-11 linked in bio!

Somewhat canon compliant.

Rating: M, mentions of medical misdemeanour, implied sex, language

Song: Do I Wanna Know (Live At The BBC) - Hozier

Word Count: 3367

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenient Truth

So. Denial hadn’t been working. At this point Suki had to admit to herself her crush on Bryce. She had no clue what to do. She should end it, right? It wouldn’t be fair on him. He hadn’t signed up for this and they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want this to happen.

Suki hadn’t had feelings for anyone in such a long time that it had never seemed possible to her. She’d never dreamed she’d end up feeling some type of way for Bryce Lahela. The moment she felt that déjà vu she should’ve run for the hills. Maybe in hindsight the whole thing was a mistake, but it was too late now.

She was laying there in his bed, on his chest, wearing his pyjamas. She definitely wasn’t doing herself any favours right at that moment.

She wanted to stay there forever, enveloped in his smell and his warm skin and the light breeze of his breaths on her forehead; the soft cotton of his pyjamas, the dizzying sensation of his arm on her waist.

But god, Bryce really hadn’t bargained for this. She had to get out of there before she drove herself crazy or overstayed her welcome. Or worse, drove him away. Because although it might not have been what was best for her after the revelation, all Suki wanted was to keep Bryce in her life.

“Thank you so much. Again. But I oughta get out of your hair.” She started to lift herself off him, dreaming up reluctance as his arm fell away from her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You said you had today off too, right? You must be feeling pretty rough,” he chuckled.

“Thank you for offering but really. I should go home.” Should more than you know. Should for my own sanity. Should because it’s the right thing to do when it was me who fucked up.

Bryce left her to it as she changed out of his pyjamas – slowly, she was hungover as hell – and back into the clothes that were strewn across Bryce’s kitchen.

“I’ll wash your underwear for you,” he offered, as they had been caught in the crossfire of her vomit. She could tell it was a serious offer despite the smug smirk painted on his face.

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it! “No, you won’t. I have a washing machine at home.”

She collected them from him in a plastic bag, how embarrassing.

Imagine making such a state of yourself? I’m twenty-fucking-eight years old and I drank too much because I was afraid to admit I might have some stupid schoolgirl crush on my fuck buddy? Have you ever seen anything more tragic? And now he’s fucking handing me my sick-soaked underwear in a plastic fucking bag. Like a fucking child. A child who threw up at school and had to go home early and get picked up by their mom. And now I can’t stop fucking cursing myself for putting myself in this position. If there was ever any moment at all that he maybe saw me as more than a fuck, that moment was lost now.

So Suki left, her head spinning and not just because of an asshole of a hangover.

Maybe it was just a temporary baseless infatuation. Maybe Suki shouldn’t have been jumping to such drastic measures…

So that - Suki’s denial and clinging on to the hope that she could find a way to continue this – was how Suki and Bryce ended up continuing to sleep together throughout the month of February. But the longer it went on, the more sure Suki was that this addicting feeling when she thought of him was sticking around. And it wasn’t fair on him.

She kept thinking about it, considering her options, making the excuse that she didn’t want to jump into the wrong decision. So yeah, she kept sleeping with him. And no, there was no way in hell Suki was admitting to Bryce that she was into him.

She’d been afraid to contact him after everything that had happened, the amount of embarrassment she’d caused for herself, but he was the one to reach out first. It surprised Suki that he even wanted anything to do with her after all that.

“How’s your hand?” He’d asked the first time since the incident, picking up her wrist and investigating the healing.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt much any more.” The wound was scarring to scab and itch.

“It’s looking good.”

“I guess I have your skills to thank.”

“How many times have I told you?” He grinned, “I’m a talented guy.”

They’d become comfortable with one another, really comfortable, and the friend part of friend with benefits could no longer be ignored.

Suki’s problem? Bryce was impossible to get a read on. She had absolutely no idea to tell if her newfound feelings were reciprocated, because he was a huge flirt to everyone. And Suki wasn’t one to take risks. So she didn’t say anything, assumed Bryce felt the same as he ever had for her.

She was right, of course, but not in the way she expected.

A few nights into the month Bryce texted:

Scalpel Jockey: *sigh* i should call her😉

Bryce’s text was accompanied by a selfie taken in front of his toilet, wide grin and thumb up. So embarrassing. He’d been right about the blackmail thing, then. He wasn’t going to let the mess I was go.

Santa Fe: you’re not even using the meme right

Scalpel Jockey: well my toilet misses your mouth so be sure to come visit it tomorrow

Santa Fe: you think you’re going to get laid after reminding me of the most embarrassing night of my life?

Over-exaggeration. But it honestly sort of felt that way.

Scalpel Jockey: of course I will😏

Santa Fe: nope

Scalpel Jockey:👀😌🤨

The next day,

Santa Fe: fine. see u soon.

—-

“Owwww somethings digging into my back!” Bryce yelped as he’d rolled away from Suki. He did some odd contortions to reach underneath himself and grab whatever was causing the grievance. “Suki, why the hell is your id badge in my bed?”

“Uh, maybe because you chucked it into the abyss a minute ago.”

He gave her a look with pursed lips. He rolled to his side facing away from Suki.

“Aww, you look so cute in this. All innocent and shit.”

“Give it back.”

“I mean it! Look at that little face,” he cooed, brushing the image with his thumb.

“It’s really not my best picture at all,” she groaned. What was it about ID card images which made them always turn out terrible? And then one is left with said image for potentially years to come.

“Suki, this says your birthday is January 18th? You didn’t say anything?” He turned to face her.

“January was so busy, I wasn’t that fussed.”

“You should’ve said. I would’ve celebrated with you.”

“Birthday sex?” She laughed.

“No, like proper birthday stuff. Whatever you like doing on them. And then maybe some birthday sex,” he added with a smirk.

“Eh. It was fine, I just got takeout.”

Bryce tutted.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

Suddenly he looked bashful and uneasy. “Um. November 27th.”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

“Nah. I’m a Sagittarius,” he winked.

“I can’t believe you were trying to make me feel guilty for not mentioning my birthday when you didn’t either.”

“We actually spent it together. That day I looked after Tommy. I had a great time.”

“Oh.” He had to stop saying things like that. It was terrible for her heart. “I can’t believe you let me set a random kid on you for your birthday.”

“I said I had a great time didn’t I?”

And god Suki’s stomach was having a party, an anxiety-ridden, nerves-on-fire, doubt-clad, smitten-as-shit party.

—-

In no time at all It was Valentine’s Day. Not that Suki was paying any attention… or that she wanted to spend it with a certain god-like surgeon. She didn’t even need to mention it, the plan was just act like this was any other hookup. February 14th was just a day – the way we ascribe time only exists because of us; and therefore it’s just a normal hookup. Using existentialism to cure crush nerves? Surprisingly works.

Santa Fe: 👃

Scalpel Jockey: sorry sukes i’m sick🤒

Well. That was not what she was expecting.

But wait. What if he was faking? What if he knew it was Valentine’s Day and was worried Suki was trying to make a gesture and had to let her down easy?

Worse, what if he was spending Valentine’s with someone else? After all, they had agreed not to be exclusive. Shit. What if Bryce liked someone else?? She didn’t even think about it before and now she felt a bit sick. He was an insanely attractive guy – chances were even without time to meet people there would be plenty at the hospital falling at his feet. There was no way he hadn’t been asked out for Valentine’s.

Those worries were quelled by another text, a picture of Bryce’s legs in his bed and the TV at the end playing something. There was a small bag full of used tissues.

Bless him, he really is sick.

Suki knew what she had to do.

Clanging about in the kitchen she muscled up some veg-packed soup, a vegetable lasagne, and a vegetable stir-fry. She also blended a fruit smoothie. Then she packed everything into Tupperware and fit a couple of portions of each into an insulated container.

Suki marched over to Bryce’s with the insulated container full of her cooked meals and determination. God, I’m a simp.

When she arrived she knocked hard so that he could hear. It was a couple of minutes before Suki heard footsteps, then they stopped (presumably for Bryce to look through the fish-eye) before Bryce creaked the door open.

“Suki. Didn’t you get my text, I’m sick I can’t-“ his voice was weak and croaky, slightly nasal – and he definitely sounded ill.

“I know. I’m not here for that. I bought you these,” she held up the insulated bag.

“What is it?”

“Food. Meals. Because you’re sick and you can’t cook. It’s just simple immune-boosting stuff,” she held out the bag for him to take.

He sniffed loudly and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She was going to protest, but for some reason she didn’t. The plan was just to drop the food off, not to come in. But when faced with the opportunity Suki’s legs carried her subconsciously. When Bryce opened the door up for her she could see him closer. Dark bags under his eyes, greasy hair, chapped lips. He was wearing sweatpants (similar to the pair Suki had tucked away in her drawer at home from Christmas), and a cotton t shirt. He looked rough. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. And seeing him like this wasn’t off-putting at all, it just made her want to look after him. Be there for him. Why am I willing to do so much for him? Liking people is a bit like giving away your soul, isn’t it?

“You get back into bed and I’ll heat one of these up for you. They should still be mostly warm, anyway.”

“Sukes, I’ll be fine,” he said nasally. The nickname sent Suki’s organs into overdrive. Because here he was at his lowest, referring to Suki with an affectionate moniker and sounding like a melancholic song.

“I kind of owe you, remember?”

Bryce hummed a nod, too tired for much else, and slunk back into his bedroom.

Suki busied herself checking all the Tupperware’s – they were cool enough to go in the freezer by then so she put all bar one away. She heated that one for a few moments and transferred it into a bowl with cutlery, planted that on a tray, and brought it through to Bryce.

He was in bed as Suki had instructed, old reruns of Criminal Minds playing on his TV. He smiled weakly when he saw her enter with the tray of soup.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on his lap.

“No problem.”

He took a spoon of soup and gulped it down gently. Then he turned to Suki, who was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed facing him.

“I’m not good with… seeming weak,” he said, looking at Suki intensely.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s only me. I vomited in your toilet.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, and when Suki was about ask what he meant he carried on, “this soup is amazing.”

They sat in silence with only the sounds of the TV as Bryce worked his way through the bowl of soup. Suki was too nervous to ask what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished the bowl. She took the tray from him and took it back through to the kitchen, washing everything up for him. She returned to Bryce’s room, noting beads of sweat on his forehead. Going into Bryce’s en-suite, Suki found a washcloth and soaked it with some cold water before giving it a squeeze.

When she returned to Bryce’s side she gently dabbed the washcloth over his hot forehead. He looked up at her, vulnerable, exhausted – very un-Bryce. She was ever so gentle as she dabbed the cool cloth over his skin. Then Bryce reached up and held onto her wrist weakly with his hand.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I owe you. I was hard work that night at yours.”

He seemed to accept this answer, and gulped a little as he let go of her wrist. She pulled the cloth from his forehead for a moment.

“I’m still nervous,” he croaked.

“About?”

“You seeing me like this. It’s not exactly sexy.”

Suki’s nosiness was getting the better of her, and she knew now would be a good time to strike since there’d been an opening.

“The whole… weakness thing – that’s why you were weird about the surgery?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” he sighed, looking at Suki as though weighing up his options. He seemed to come to a decision and continued: “I already went through struggles with self doubt. My parents fucked up my whole belief in myself - it’s why I overcompensate now. It’s why I took the surgery thing so hard, I felt myself doubting my abilities. Well it was more like – less that I was actually doubting myself, because I know I’m good, and more that I was worried I would start doubting myself.”

“Yeah, that totally makes sense.” Suki was surprised he was opening up to her like this. She noticed how he mentioned his parents, but she’d let him get there when he was was ready.

“I’m sorry for not telling you at the time.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t owed the story. So what really happened? You got kicked off because of karaoke?”

“Uh, the other surgical interns kind of have it out for me.”

“What?”

“Well… everyone liked me at first. You know, I’m a likeable guy,” he flashed a grin, a ghost of his normal megawatt smile, “but I think once they saw how competent and determined I was that changed fast.”

“Jealousy,” she scoffed, “So that’s why you don’t hang out with them any more?” Suki remembered how he’d avoided them at Halloween.

“Yeah. And there was a group of them spreading shit from the start about me, dangerous rumours that could get me fired. Saying I drink on the job, I have *ahem* sexual relationships with my patients, that I’m a terrible surgeon and only made it here because of my parents money which is...”

“Your parents are well off?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, uh, people found out about who my parents are too.”

“Who are they?”

“Another time,” he bit his lip as though unsure, concern as he looked into Suki’s face.

“Okay- drinking at work, sex with patients? Where the hell did those come from?”

“Well I keep a few condoms in my locker, for you, that can’t have looked great after the accusations. I don’t know shit about the drinking. I guess it just sounded bad and anyone who has had out it for me just wants me to look incompetent.”

“Those fucking dicks.”

Bryce shrugged. “It shows I’m a major threat,” he gave her a smug grin but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “So all that stuff got relayed back to Dr Emery and the karaoke the night before was apparently the last straw. She didn’t want to take the risk in case it was true and gave my surgery to Ben.”

“Ben, huh?” She asked, a sudden iciness in her tone. Like, Ben ‘you like her?’ Ben? Digging into Bryce’s private life Ben?

“Yeah, he’s another intern - you probably don’t know him.”

Maybe not. But I’m about to.

“I know some Ben’s… what’s his last name?”

“White.”

“Oh no, I don’t know him,” Suki smiled sweetly, dabbing Bryce’s head with the flannel again. She’d gotten the information she needed.

Bryce chuckled weakly. “I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah so, obviously Dr Emery investigated it all after that and realised that none of it was true. But by then I’d lost it anyway. The damage was done, you know? Sorry, I know I sound a bit ‘woe is me’.”

“Not at all. You can talk to me, seriously. Friends – remember? I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And angrier than I’m letting on.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too. For shutting you down and running away when you tried to ask me about it. I’m just- it’s- I like being That Guy, you know? The one who’s got his shit together. The one who’s the expert surgeon. Who doesn’t let things phase him. Laughs everything off. The one who’s amazing in bed,” he looked at her with a look that was, if Suki didn’t know any better, nervous. God, it’s so weird seeing him like this. But my heart is completely breaking for him.

“If I’m-“ he continued, then seemed to change his mind, “what you need from me wasn’t that, so I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“By being human? You could never,” she smiled as she bought the flannel back to his face, but it was more an excuse to stroke her finger over his cheek comfortingly. Bryce’s eyes seemed to shut involuntarily and he moved into her touch, just letting it be for a while. He was still hot, but had a bit more colour to his face, so Suki felt she had helped at least a little.

Fuck. I like you so much.

This definitely wasn’t helping her whole predicament, because each word he’d said to her, each touch, each look on his face – and she was a puddle on the floor. Overwhelmed with the ache she felt in her chest at the whole situation. That something as ridiculous as jealousy – between people who’s job it was to help others for gods sake – had put Bryce in such a spin. And it seemed to her that losing the surgery was bad for him, but the way that affected his confidence and how he felt he had to be around her – that seemed to have affected him more.

He was too proud.

And she cared for him too much to be okay with seeing him like this.

Suki must’ve been cradling Bryce’s face longer than she’d realised, because he eventually started snoring quietly. His eyebrows now flattened on his face and looking more at peace than he had since she’d arrived. She was careful when removing her hand and placing a pillow up under his head. She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing against the cool damp area she’d been dabbing. Then she snuck into his bathroom to fill up a glass of water and collect some aspirin, leaving them on his bedside table for him before escaping his apartment.

Suki was on a mission, fuelled by affection and anger.

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hournites · 3 years

Text

still turn the switches on, just to see if it’s still gone

Stargirl fic

Warning: Blindness, Anxiety, Panic Attack

Summary: Being blind never really slowed Beth down after her accident. She had Chuck, who guided her through hallways and used the words her friends failed to find to describe what she was missing. And her voice, well that wasn’t gone. She could still talk and she could still listen and in fact, she never read social cues very well in the first place, so really when it came to talking people’s ears off things haven’t much changed.

~.~

Being blind never really slowed Beth down after her accident. She had Chuck, who guided her through hallways and used the words her friends failed to find to describe what she was missing. And her voice, well that wasn’t gone. She could still talk and she could still listen and in fact, she never read social cues very well in the first place, so really when it came to talking people’s ears off things haven’t much changed.

Her mother doted over her more, which was weird because before she was found in her own emergency room Beth swore she was trying to pull away. Her dad bought her a bookcase full of her favourite novels in braille, which was very thoughtful. Pat gifted her with Dr. Mcnider’s owl for companionship and defence during missions. Most kids at school seemed to at least try to help her out. There was no use denying the need for extra assistance. Trying to explain that her artificial intelligence sufficed well enough to adapt to a handicapped life thanks to her superheroing pursuits was hard to explain, not to mention dangerous (and owls were strictly prohibited therapy animals in the Blue Valley High handbook—She checked). So Beth often found herself smiling at those who brushed against her arm or told her what time a teacher’s office hours were, even so far as helping her pack her bag.

Unnecessary, maybe. But it was nice.

This was why when she reached into her backpack during lunch on her way from the test accommodations room, her heart dropped to her gut. Beth only felt crumpled papers, her two binders, and her pencil case. Struck with alarm, she called out his name but was met with silence. Awful, sickening silence and a draft from the half-opened window in the staircase.

Her goggles weren’t there.

“Chuck?”

Her fingers flexed against the line of her inner zipper hard enough to get a paper cut. Her phone was also missing. Her phone had Chuck programmed into its assistance system. Her phone and Chuck. Gone.

Someone stole him while she took her test. Someone who would know she was dependent on him. Someone who knew she was Dr. Mid-Nite. Someone who went to this school.

Shiv? Tigress?

Beth’s mind raced as she jutted out her hand towards the cold railing. It was so silent. Too silent. She needed to hear Chuck’s voice in her ear. That reassurance was the backbone of her strength and confidence and her eyes.

She never had to deal with quiet like this. She’d have her own thoughts probing the back of her mind while she daydreamed or took her tests. She’d have Chuck’s constant chattering and Hootie’s feather rustlings, Yolanda’s giggles, Court’s cheers, Pat’s comforting words. And maybe there’d be that part of herself that mourned what it was like not to need that: True friendship and belonging, the assurance of who and what made up her definition of home.

That chilling loneliness from those days before JSA was miserable in a matter of fact way, but Beth was used to it then, independent and resilient and unknowing anything better.

Abandoned here was reminiscent of that time exemplified. Back when she was loser Beth. Not blind Beth.

She loved JSA, she loved her friends, but sometimes she preferred the crippling isolation that came with that. The safety of before. But she had to remind herself it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t safe and it wasn’t healthy. Whether she had her sight or not, all of Blue Valley was in danger and would be brainwashed now if she hadn’t stepped up to help.

But not like this.

Her breathing grew ragged as she clutched the side of the wall, mind spiralling. She knew Blue Valley High. She knew this school. This was her school, this was her year’s wing and this was the C block stairwell. She had the entire building memorized before she ever needed to.

She couldn’t remember the number of steps. The number locked itself in the haze of her anxiety. It could be twelve or fifteen or sixteen or twenty-six. Or, there could be chocolate milk spilt in the middle for her to slip on and break her neck and Beth wouldn’t even know. If this was Cindy’s attempt at psychological warfare, it was working. She was immobilized, alone, afraid, and for the first time in too long, completely blind.

“Chuck?”

Why was she still calling out for him like a helpless child? He couldn’t help her. He wasn’t there.

Beth’s fingers shook as she felt along the dirty metal railing. She slid herself down, her back touching the wall. If Cindy was going to ambush her, she’d at least won’t make it too easy.

Two minutes morphed into five, then ten. Beth stayed in a fragile panic with her backpack clutched to her chest. Courtney was going to find her here dead because she was too afraid to walk down a flight of stairs. This was going to be by far the lamest death in JSA history and here she was, suppressing her hand over her mouth, still bawling her eyes out regardless of it.

The door from the bottom creaked open and Beth’s breathing ceased. The footsteps were slower but sounded heavy like the person was going up two at a time. Soon, two hands were on hers and she was throwing her arms around their neck, clinging tightly because she knew who they belonged to.

“Rick!”

“Beth? You weren’t answering your phone, Yolanda sent me out to find you. What happened?”

“Someone stole Chuck.”

He stilled, and she could feel through his thin shirt the way his heart sped against her ear.

“What?” His hand went straight to her hair, stroking it as his voice went harder. “Who the fuck would do that to you?”

She didn’t answer, sure that a handful of possible answers came to his mind.

“Why didn’t you come to find us?” he asked her a lot more softly.

It was hard to explain why Beth was paralyzed.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “They took my phone. I got scared.”

Rick moved her back, pushing her from the edge of the top step. “I’ll carry you.”

“No!”

Rick paused just as the flat of his palms touched the underneath of her knees. He was going to carry her all the way to the cafeteria and everyone in the hall would stop and stare and whisper and Beth never cared about what people thought of her (she already knew—Chuck informed her weekly) but being carried around the school while clinging to Rick Tyler because she got disoriented would be the most mortifying experience of her existence.

The confusion in his voice was evident. And if she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought he felt hurt. “You don’t want me to—?”

Beth turned her head away. Of course, she wanted him to hold her again. Like she hadn’t dreamed of Hourman catching her over and over since that very first week over a year ago. She realized her fondness and interest in Rick’s friendship was less that of strong will and more of a swelling crush. That didn’t make it any less difficult to manage. She took a breath, chest still tight like half of the oxygen in her lungs had been swapped with something more noxious. This was starting to be too much.

The problem with Chuck was that she’d never really accepted being blind.

When her eyesight deteriorated after the accident, Beth had been in such deep denial she smiled and lied to her mother when asked if she felt okay enough to return to school, only to walk right into oncoming traffic. An older man yanked her by the arm of her backpack as two cars flew by fast enough to bring the rush of wind to her face. Rattled, Beth felt into her bag for Chuck, ignoring the swimming black spots in her vision. She’d rub her eyes with her fists too hard when she woke up that morning, she kept telling herself and refused to put Chuck away.

And then, when she had to confess those black spots weren’t going away, that they were only narrowing into her focal points and she tricked up her phone to get Chuck there too...That was it. She told the JSA that she was going blind after her doctor visit confirmed she was going to lose it all. They all burst into tears for her, but Beth didn’t, stuck in an accepting kind of numb.

The darkness snuck up on her like a shadow behind her back. Every blink and she wondered if it was the last one. It dragged on and her world got a little darker with every new day. Anxiety cracked at her spirit and broke her down, and she’d stay awake at night, staring up at her ceiling, practising for the familiarity of it without Chuck. Soon, she wished for it, begging the wait to be over.

Misery would not leave her until it did.

Beth could see in X-ray, infrared and pitch black when nobody else could. She used to tell herself that made her different. That she didn’t have it so bad. She knew everything there was to see, and with Hootie on her shoulder and the blackout bombs she deployed in battle, Chuck levelled the playing field. Maybe even tipped odds of success in her favour.

So really, maybe Beth had been living a disillusioned lie for the last few months.

She couldn’t be Dr. Mid-Nite all the time.

“I’ll do it myself,” she said, pushing a light hand against his chest. It was possible that her voice was trembling, and she didn’t sound all too sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. “I need to.”

Rick hesitated. “Beth, you’re shaking. I don’t think—”

“Please, Rick. They can take…” Her hands went to her face, wiping away her hot tears. He was right, she was shaking. “They can take my sight and my security and Chuck. But they can’t make me any less of who I am. I’ve walked down these stairs hundreds of times with sight and blindness. I can do this.” Her voice petered off, and she felt worried again at his silence. “Do you believe me?”

“I’m not the one that needs to believe it, Beth.”

Rick wasn’t the one doubting her. Her insecurities and self-doubt came from within. The words were harsh like a slap to her face, no matter how soft he uttered them. A cold reality check, but coming from his mouth, it was meaningful and not meant in any way to hurt her. Coming from Rick, it was different. And it was true.

He was a lot more clever than he let on.

She stared down where the grips on the bottom of her shoes teetered over the edge of the first step. Rick might’ve not been as close to her anymore but she knew he was hovering. It felt like a cliff or a massive waterfall. Her heart pounded like she was at the ledge of the world. She had to tell her brain to stop imagining those things. It only made it scarier. It’s like she said before. These were stairs. This was her cell block, the wing that led to the locker area. This was her school. It was familiar ground. She bit her lip, reining in the courage before it went away and held out her hand.

“Keep me steady?” Because the world could still turn at her anxiety’s whim. Or maybe she just wasn’t ready to let him go. Rick grasped her hand tight.

“How many stairs are there?”

“Twenty-three.”

Beth exhaled. Twenty-three. She could do that. Her other hand went to the railing, and she took her first blind step down. Her stomach swooped like the drop in an elevator. But then her foot hit solid ground.

That was it?

She stepped down again, and it was fine.

It was fine.

“There you go,” Rick encouraged her, squeezing her hand to let her know he was still there. “You don’t need me.”

She actually didn’t. Muscle memory and confidence guided her through, and eventually, on step thirteen, she let go.

When she reached the floor, a rush of pride flooded through her. She was perfectly fine. More than fine, she was great and not crying anymore. Whoever thought stealing Chuck would render her useless was in for a surprise because—

Beth spun around, realizing she had walked right on, pushed the door and made an angry beeline through the mercifully empty hall to get to the cafeteria, leaving Rick behind.

He grabbed her hand again after jogging after her.

“Hey!” he said, with a smile in his tone. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

Beth’s face heated up, mostly because she was acutely aware she was now clinging to his hand, deliberately locking their fingers together. “Sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.

He brushed his thumb against her knuckles. He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s my fault. So who am I killing tonight?”

Beth scoffed. “You won’t kill anybody.”

“I might,” Rick muttered, tugging her quickly to the side, presumably so she wouldn’t step on something. She stumbled a bit, but only ended up bumping into Rick. Beth flushed and reoriented herself.

“Thanks,” she murmured, slowing her pace to be more careful. Then returned to the conversation. “You said you couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Rick said. “...Well. Whoever the hell thought they could get away with stealing Chuck—”

“Someone stole Chuck?” Yolanda cried over the chattering of everyone else on lunch break.

Her shins hit the bench of the table. Beth put her hands out on the surface to climb in and Courtney immediately ended up at her side. Beth wrinkled her nose as bouncy curls flew into her face.

“Are you okay?”

“She is now,” Rick said, now sitting beside her. He touched her arm. “You are, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answered quietly, indulging in leaning against him because he was using a soft, gentle voice that made her want to hug him forever. “I’m not freaking out anymore.” Beth lifted a reluctant shoulder and wiped at her wet face. “He’s still missing though.”

“It’s Cindy,” Courtney said, narrowing her eyes across the room.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“No, I do,” said Court. “She’s staring at us right now.”

Rick’s warmth was gone in an instant.

“Wait—” Beth called after him just knowing he now had his hourglass. Her hand reached out to empty space.

“I’m knocking the bitch out. Court, let’s go.”

“On it!”

“You’re gonna beat her up in the middle of the caf?” Yolanda hissed at them to sit back down. “You can’t do that!”

But then Yolanda muttered something under her breath.

“What?” Beth asked when the rest went quiet, but she could sense the way all of her friends tensed up.

“She has the goggles Beth,” Court said. “She’s taunting us with them right now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Yolanda said tersely. It was obvious she also was exhausted by Cindy.

“Okay.” Beth stood up. “Bring me over so I don’t trip on a wet brown napkin or something.”

“You want to go over there?!?”

“Yes,” Beth snapped with a hard glare. It probably wasn’t aimed at the right spot but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fierce. “She wanted to scare me? She did. But Cindy has been cruel for so long and I’m not giving her the satisfaction of—” She balled her hands into fists and took a long slow breath to calm down. She hadn’t realized she was almost yelling.

She released them after a moment and dropped her hands back to her sides. Beth was seething mad, that was for sure, but if she didn’t get her anger in check her plan would be no better than Courtney and Rick’s. “—I’m getting Chuck back so hurry up and get me there before I lose my nerve.”

Nobody said anything.

“Now,” she clipped.

“I—”

They realized she meant business and they all scrambled to catch up with her, realizing she wasn’t going to wait.

The three surrounded her like bodyguards. Her arm linked with Rick’s and Yolanda’s hand was on her back, guiding her to the popular table.

Beth touched her hair briefly and stiffened her spine. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but trusted herself enough to improv once she got there.

When Yolanda removed her hand, Beth knew they were in front of Cindy, Jenny and her other group of mean girls. She let go of Rick, choosing to fold her arms over her chest instead.

“What are you staring at, Beth?” Cindy drawled at her. There was a pause and she tittered. “Oh wait—”

The table straight up laughed.

“Burman!” Rick barked.

Courtney stepped up too, but both Yolanda and Beth blocked her with a warning hand.

“Hey,” Beth said coolly, with an eerie collectedness she didn’t even know she had. “I came to have a chat with you.”

“Oh, she wants to talk? That’s cute.”

“Thank you,” she said sarcastically, sailing over the condescension.

“Clearly you’re too naive and didn’t get the hint. I don’t want to talk to you. Get lost.”

Beth leaned in so close, she could hear the clinging of Shiv’s earrings. She felt movement, but she picked up on her intuition and honestly shocked herself by snatching Cindy’s bare wrist.

Cindy went still.

The worst part is that Beth knew what was underneath the soft skin and thousand dollar bangle bracelet. Cindy could so easily eject her knife and blade. She could stab Beth right through if she wanted. She’d done so to her dad in the basement of the tunnels.

But Beth wasn’t afraid.

“I don’t need to see you to know you’re smirking at me like this is the funniest thing you’ve ever done. I don’t need my eyes to know the way you were just leaning against your hand, wearing your Ralph Lauren polo shirt with one of your ridiculous berets and my visual aid dangling off the other hand like some next-season must-have accessory that you want because it’s something you can’t have.”

Beth dug her nails into Cindy’s skin. It’s not like it would scar. She continued, acutely aware of the way so much of the room seemed to have gone silent. If half the school hears her go off on Cindy Burman, maybe a few of the kids too terrified to stand up to anyone bullying them could learn a thing or two as well.

“But let me tell you something, Cindy. You can’t have it. I can’t see without them. I’m blind.”

“I know,” Cindy gritted out through her teeth.

“Yeah, I’m blind,” Beth raised her voice, just a little. “And so are you. Except you and I? We’re nothing alike. I lost my sight because of an accident, but you are blind and ignorant and grossly egocentric. And you did that to yourself. So take my phone out of your purse before I let Rick rip it from you, give me my goggles, and leave me the hell alone.”

Cindy dropped the goggles onto the floor, expecting the lenses to shatter.

They don’t.

~.~

“Rick?”

After Cindy dropped Chuck, Rick took her phone back as Yolanda ripped her a new one about being creepy with her phone theft habit, emboldened by Beth’s speech. The four left the cafeteria after, all wanting to leave, wishing the lunch period to be over with.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for holding my hand.”

He stopped walking, so Beth stopped walking. His hand in hers gave a light squeeze. Which was nice, because it meant he hadn’t let go since she put Chuck back on and blinked back at him after a shy glance, so relieved to see the outlines of his face again in any way she’s given.

“Whatever you need.”

She believed him, sure enough. Beth sighed as they walked through the hall. Courtney and Yolanda were behind them, talking about something Beth couldn’t care enough to listen to.

“Then...I need a cane. My dad bought one a while ago but I’ve left it in my room because I didn’t want it.”

“But…” He frowned at her, sounding confused. “You got Chuck back. You don’t need the cane now.”

Beth sighed. “Except, I do. I’m legally blind, Rick.”

“Yeah, but Beth—”

She shrugged her shoulders and bit her lower lip. “It’s true. I need to learn to live as I am. Not what I wish I could be.”

“You are Dr. Mid-Nite.”

“I know that,” she promised softly, patting his arm. “But I’m Beth Chapel, too. I can’t be afraid of being me.”

#stargirl #beth chapel #hournite #blind beth #angst #hournites fic #rick tyler

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aros001 · 3 years

Text

Going in blind: Watching season 2 for the first time. Random thoughts.

Huh. Only 7 episodes. Not complaining necessarily. For series with an ongoing plot I've definitely become more in favor with their seasons only having as many episodes as they need rather than them having to stretch themselves out to full up a certain number of episodes, which can lead to padding and just bad character moments.

Episode 1: Jeez. Catra visiting Shadow Weaver's cell just to rub her success in her face and verbally abuse her back for once. It's like a twisted version of Zuko and Ozai from ATLA. Catra's upbringing under her was abusive but this is far from a healthy way for her to deal with it. She's basically deliberately swimming in her resentment.

Episode 2: It's not that I'm rooting for her but by-golly was it fun to watch Catra act like just the absolute worst she could while she was Glimmer and Bow's captive.

I touched on this in season 1 but part of the drama of the heroes feeling guilt over leaving Entrapta behind is kind of lost on me a bit simply because it was her own fault it happened. She deliberately went back into the purge room because of her machine obsession, which then closed on her and erupted in flames. It was more than reasonable to assume she was dead and no one but her was to blame, so I'm not really able to be invested in their guilt over it.

That said, weirdly enough I do like that her "abandonment" doesn't seem to be even a blip on the radar for Entrapta herself. She hasn't joined the horde because she resents the heroes or felt left behind, she simply is so obsessed with machines and experimentation that she'll be on the side of whoever lets her do the most of that. Like, it's selfish and irresponsible but it's very in-character and I'd far rather have a traitor motivation be based in that over something stupid like a misunderstanding.

Episode 3: I love the mental image of Shadow Weaver thinking up princess-themed ghost stories to tell Adora as a child.

So, if the previous She-Ra Mara separated Eternia from the other realms/planets/whatever she did and that's what cut off the She-Ra line for 1000 years, I'm guessing Hordak may be from the time before that happened, thus his drive to create portals and calling Eternia a backwards world. Either he's naturally long-lived or his technology is extending his life.

Episode 4: You know, you could maybe argue it was vague enough that it could be taken other ways but I'm definitely getting some vibes here that Scorpia is crushing on Catra. She literally refers to the two of them as soulmates at one point. I know she says she's trying to be friends but this feels a level beyond that.

Fun little reference to the original She-Ra cartoon thrown in there (and maybe Cowboy Bebop...? James Bond...? What was Glimmer's art style supposed to be?). I like how it is more like just playful ribbing than anything outright dumping on the original. Again, I've never seen original She-Ra but whenever remakes/adaptations go out of their way to trash to the original I always kind of wonder why they bothered doing an adaptation if the original is just that bad? Also, I was having trouble sleeping so it was about 2am when I watched this episode and the very Eartha Kitt Catwoman Catra made it very difficult for me not to lose my **** and stay quiet. With how much of a contrast that version is from the one in this series, that was hilarious. Bonus note, it's a nice touch that Frosta's version of Catra is a pretty crasher in that sweet suit, since that's the only impression of Catra she's ever had.

Adora being a chosen one is definitely elevated up simply by how much the pressure of what she's supposed to be is getting to her. I'm likely going to keep making Avatar The Last Airbender comparisons throughout the series but that's partly because I went into this series figuring it'd be at least structured similar to ATLA (season 1 being more episodic and a little more kid-friendly as it builds up the world before getting more serious later). Adora and Aang are interesting to compare here. Aang's worries early on were less apparent because he was more in-denial/choosing not to think about his problems that much, which fit with his character as a free-spirited Air Nomad. While Adora is much more military-minded. She can't keep herself from thinking about her problems and trying to prepare for the worst-case scenario. And jeez, that idea of who/how Catra is in her mind. Not only beating her but making her watch as she takes everything she cares about away. Not Shadow Weaver, not Lord Hordak, but Catra. That whole Lion King Mufasa/Scar moment between them in episode 11 and their fight in the S1 finale really did a number on her mental image of her old friend. Not reasonably so.

Minor note: I'm sure I'm the only one who got this impression but by the look of it, the way the robot's eye moved, and the music, after getting the soda spilled on it that little spybot gained sentience for half a second and then immediately died. It was so darkly comedic I had to laugh.

Episode 5: So that red disc is basically She-Ra's Red Kryptonite, having an effect on the mind rather than the body. The drunk Adora joke doesn't really do it for me but it did get some nice interactions going between Scorpia and Sea Hawk, two characters I certainly wasn't expecting to bond. I did really like Catra's panic when berserker She-Ra nearly beheads her. The implication is that is Adora really wanted to kill her Catra would already probably be dead. It's a thing I like about powerhouse characters like Superman or Aang, who could just demolish everything around them and don't simply because they're a good person...which in turn makes them the scariest person on the planet when they're well and truly ticked off. I'm not going to lie, I do kind of want to see a She-Ra version of Aang when Appa was stolen or when Superman fought The Elite.

Also, Catra's line of "I have control over Adora. I'm not giving that up for anything.". There's a lot to read into there.

Episode 6: I guess my prediction was sort of right. Shadow Weaver became basically a magic parasite and while it did increase the power she's capable of the implication seems to be that she needs a constant fix of magic to keep herself going, thus her attachment to the Black Garnet.

Have we seen Micah before? Given how long ago the flashback seems set, the fact that Shadow Weaver didn't kill him and thus he probably becomes someone important later in life, I'm guessing he's Glimmer's dad and the queen's late husband, since I think he's the only important male character whose face we haven't seen yet. Also, he's voice by Ezra from Star Wars Rebels and that cracks me up for some reason. It's the exact same voice and a relatively similar character.

I compared Catra and Shadow Weaver with a kind of twisted version of Zuko and Ozai and that definitely still fits here. Both Catra and Zuko confront their parent and call them out for the inexcusable abuse they put them through but while that moment was the start of Zuko's upwards journey this and SW's betrayal seems like it's going to cause Catra to spiral even further. Makes sense why Adora leaving affected her so much. She's probably the only one Catra's ever had that she could consistently trust and rely on, even if she did somewhat resent her.

Not surprised Hordak is getting along with Entrapta. She's not socially aware enough to be scared or intimidated by him, so she'll speak frankly, and since all she wants to talk about is the machines, experiments, and how they could get them to work Hordak probably doesn't take much issue with that. She's producing results, which is what he cares about, thus also why Shadow Weaver and Catra started losing favor with him. I wonder if Catra is going through imposter syndrome? Shadow Weaver had that line that Entrapta earned her place next to Hordak and, if you think about it, Catra hasn't really "earned" anything. We saw that she didn't really take her training or studies that seriously, showing up late to combat practice and even getting partial credit for what Adora beat. She wasn't promoted to Force Captain because of her own abilities but because Adora had defected when she was supposed to get that title. She's come close to a few victories but never really had any except for Glimmer and Bow's kidnapping...whom she then basically let escape when she returned Adora's sword to her. She doesn't have the slightest clue how the horde's bureaucracy works when trying to get things done, like simply getting troops armor. Given how much better than her Adora always was and how little she herself has to her name, I wonder is subconsciously Catra believes she doesn't deserve her current position and thus why she's fretting so much over trying to prove herself.

Episode 7: Am I mistaken or did Bow's parents say that he's the youngest of TWELVE siblings? I was going to ask whether Bow was adopted or if his dad's used a surrogate or if maybe there's even just simply magic in She-Ra's world that allows two people of the same sex to have a child together but now I'm just focused on the 12 kids thing. I get nervous just imagining myself having more than one. You should see me when I'm with two cats. I have to pet both of them because I'd feel like I'd be making one feel left out and like the other is the favorite. I'm a mess with kids.

The dad with dreadlocks (Lance?), his design looked familiar to me and I finally realized it reminded me a of a fanart design for a human Grim from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. Very different voices between those two characters though.

I wonder if there's any significance to the robot protecting the crystal having the same design as those in the artic in episode 5? Obviously both have the connection to the First Ones but the robot in the forest who was also protecting First Ones' tech had a more insect-like design over these more worm/Graboid ones.

I'm kind of curious what Hordak would have done if Catra had told the truth. Given his interactions with her and Shadow Weaver he doesn't seem like the time to tolerate failure but I suppose the implication here is that he at least would respect those who own up to their failures. Or I suppose more simply he was just testing to see if she would lie to him and since she did there's little merit in keeping her in a position of authority anymore where she could lie about important things again.

Season 2 verdict: Still enjoying it. Another person on this reddit recommended I view seasons 2 and 3 as one since they are basically just one season split in two. I was going to do that but this ended up longer than I thought I would, so I'll just do 2 and 3 separate to keep them semi-organized and easier to read.

I think overall Catra is my favorite character since she has the most interesting backstory, interactions, and just general path through the story out of everyone. She's like Pearl from Steven Universe or, well, Zuko. There's just so much baggage there that she's trying and kind of failing to deal with. I'm always invested in whatever's happening when she's onscreen. Hordak so far is a good big boss villain for Adora to face but Catra is a good archenemy for her.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/o027y3/going_in_blind_watching_season_2_for_the_first/

#she ra #she ra spop #random thoughts #reddit repost

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lalainajanes · 4 years

Note

Surprise + 1. “OH you’re jealous!” + KC

Called Out

Caroline’s got her back pressed to a brick wall, barely aware of the people passing in front of her. It’s not like her – she’d touched down in New York City three days ago and has been hungrily absorbing every new sight and sound. At the moment, she’s having a pretty intense personal crisis.

She and Klaus have been chasing down separate leads for the last few hours. When she’d walked into the restaurant they’d planned to meet in, found him leaning against the bar, in full flirt mode, the punch of jealousy she’d felt had her flight instincts kicking into high gear.

Practicality had kept her from going too far. Klaus is doing her a favor; she needs to know what he’s found out today. She just needs a minute (or twelve) to collect herself. A drink might help, but that would mean going back inside.

When someone pauses in front of her, Caroline keeps her head tipped up. She’s hoping they’ll move along (she can’t be polite to a good samaritan right now, will totally eat a creep). A vaguely familiar voice exclaims, “Hey, I know you. Long way from Mystic Falls, aren’t you, darling?”

She jerks in surprise when she spots Kol Mikaelson in front of her. Without thinking, Caroline reaches out and pokes his chest. He’s warm and solid under what’s probably an exorbitantly expensive t-shirt. She knows ghosts are a thing; she hadn’t known Kol wasn’t one of them.

Kol traps her hand, keeps it pressed to his chest with a smirk, “Why Miss Forbes, that’s awfully forward of you. Nik’ll fly into quite a tantrum if we steal away. Sounds fun.”

“How are you not dead?” Caroline asks, ignoring the rest of Kol’s speech. Klaus has told her a few stories over the years in which Kol appears. Caroline’s gotten the impression that Kol enjoys the sound of his own voice a little too much.

He releases her, rocks back on his heels. “Did my brother fail to mention that little feat? It happened ages ago, not long after he left your sad little town.”

Caroline’s mouth falls open, and a quick flash of anger pushes the jealousy aside. She’d thought she and Klaus had become friends in the years since she’d first made a trip to New Orleans. That time she’d needed his help, but she’d gone back (and had met up with Klaus in other locations) dozens of times since. Maybe she’d misconstrued things if he hadn’t bothered to mention something as significant as the resurrection of a member of his family.

“He’s given me free rein since. I’ve been traveling, and unbothered save for the odd check-in and reminder not to make myself conspicuous. It’s been bliss.”

“Huh,” Caroline says. Not exactly eloquent, but she’s processing.

“I only had to agree not to remove Elena Gilbert’s pretty head from her shoulders. Nik thought it would upset you.”

Kol’s casual revelations are so not helping Caroline’s emotional turmoil. “Um, obviously.”

He makes a noise of disgust. “She’s the worst doppelganger.”

“Katherine smothered me with a pillow so. Hard disagree.”

Kol opens his mouth – probably to argue – and Caroline has no desire to get sucked into an argument that’s sure to be ridiculous. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, long and exaggerated, “Nik commanded my presence. Coaxing witches into helping with impossible situations is a bit of a specialty of mine.”

It’s impossible to miss the lewd undertone. Caroline wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” Kol’s eyes sharpen, his head tipping to the side as he glances from her to the door. “Why are you skulking out here? Nik’s inside, according to his last message. Feigning off the advances of a witch we can’t currently piss off.”

“Ha, didn’t look like feigning to me,” Caroline mutters. Wishes she hadn’t immediately after because her bitterness had been palpable. Kol’s impressively self-absorbed, but he’s not an idiot.

“Ohhh,” he drawls, the syllable drawn out and dripping with glee. “You’re jealous.”

Caroline bites back a denial – she’s sure it will only encourage Kol.

“Nik will be tickled when I tell him. It’s a bit pathetic how he’s jumped to help you with your problems over the years. But it’s paid off and far sooner than he’d anticipated.”

Caroline doesn’t have the will power to swallow her offense. “Excuse me, I’ve asked Klaus for exactly three favors. In fourteen years.”

And yeah, maybe they’d been kind of big. But the problems hadn’t really even been hers. Klaus had helped her and Bonnie break the spell Kai had placed on Elena. He’d called off the calls for the doppelganger to be brought to him, allowing Elena and Damon to have a sickeningly perfect white picket fence life.

And now he’s helping her find a way for Bonnie to be immortal and keep her magic.

“That’s approximately three more favors than he’s granted anyone else. He’s only ever helpful when he’s got something to gain.”

“Maybe he’s growing as a person.”

Kol laughs at that. Loudly. Several people on the street look over in interest. He shakes his head, “You’re adorably optimistic.”

“Two of my best qualities.”

She’s also not a coward.

Caroline pushes off from the wall, smooths her hands over her dress. She’d bought it today, and it’s freaking fantastic – blue and clingy, tiny straps and a low back. She’d privately wondered about Klaus’ reaction to the dress in the fitting room, might have drifted off into an idle fantasy about how easily it could be torn away.

Kol’s watching her, amused. “Do you not want him to know about the jealousy then?”

She’s fairly certain Klaus will be able to tell – he’s always been annoyingly good at reading her, even when he’d barely known her, and she’d done her damndest to hide from him.

Caroline practices a smile. She hopes it’ll at least fool whatever contacts they’re trying to cajole tonight. “I’m sure we’ll discuss it later.”

“I’m glad I’m staying at a different hotel. Something tells me you’ll get loud.”

Caroline ignores the innuendo. “Let’s go in.”

“Ladies first.”

Caroline glares though she’s not actually annoyed, “So you can stare at my ass?”

“Isn’t that why you picked the dress?”

He may have a point. It’s petty - one of her worst qualities, Caroline’s made her peace with it – but maybe she can distract Klaus with a little jealousy of his own.

The crowd inside the bar is thicker than it had been earlier, and Kol sticks close behind her as they weave towards where Klaus now is. He’s commandeered the best booth in the place. Kol’s hand lands on her back, in a respectful place, surprisingly. “I’m going to go get a drink. Try not to be in a compromising position when I return, hmm?”

Klaus is alone, now. Caroline’s relieved, doesn’t bother to try to deny it, even internally.

Progress.

Klaus slips out when Caroline approaches, rests a hand on her hip while he brushes his mouth across her cheek. “Did you have a productive day, love?”

She loops her arms over his shoulder, keeps him close. Klaus goes rigid for a scant moment – she’s never hugged him before. “I did,” she murmurs. “I’ll tell you all about it. But first, I ran into your brother outside. Is there a reason you never mentioned you’d brought Kol back?”

Caroline pulls away so she can see his face, and Klaus is genuinely confused. “Did I not?”

“I would have remembered that.”

He lifts a shoulder, “I can’t imagine why it’s never come up. I should have thought it would be obvious – I wasn’t about to leave him dead when I had the means to bring him back.”

It’s such an arrogant statement, and so Klaus. She can’t even be annoyed. Of course he’d casually break the laws of life and death and not think it worth mentioning. He’s Klaus Mikaelson – most powerful being in the world.

A laugh bubbles out of her and she can’t resist hugging him again. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little ridiculous?”

“No one who lived,” Klaus says mildly.

“I guess I’m lucky you like me.” His eyes darken, and his mouth opens. Caroline brushes past him before he can respond.

They have business first. Caroline can see how the next few minutes will play out if Klaus were to refute that his regard for her is as simple as like. He’s got a gift for perfect tempting words. She’s always had trouble resisting the way he looks at her – like their alone even when there are a hundred other people nearby. Caroline’s about ninety-five percent of the way to admitting that her feelings are more significant too. She knows she’s got decisions to make. She remembers how freaking good Klaus can make her feel, even if the one time they’d indulged they’d been crunched for time and in a less than ideal location.

Without a quick subject change, they’ll end up providing Kol with blackmail fodder.

She snags his hand, keeps it even when they’ve slid into the booth. Klaus seems fine with how much she’s touching him, has taken it upon himself to return the favor. He brushes her hair back, his fingers lingering on the strap of her dress.

Caroline’s sure it’ll end up snapped by the end of the night, and she’s not mad about it.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #with bonus Kol

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moon-lily · 3 years

Text

Treasure Hunting

(In which an Au Ra WoL drags a certain red-haired catboy onto a hunt.)

“And where is your hero? Did she wander off when you weren’t looking,” asked Y’shtola, arms crossed as she smirked at G’raha Tia.

“I’ll have you know that she mentioned having to drop off some provisions to the Immortal Flames,” he replied, keeping in mind to be as calm as possible. He already made the mistake of letting it slip of how he looked up to the Warriors of Light, he can’t give her another.

“And what of the other two? Could they not have taken you along with them to wherever called them?” Now she wasn’t as teasing, genuinely curious instead.

“Sariel and Amaris had said they were going to the First to check on Ryne and Gaia. Apparently they had been making progress on restoring the elements to the Empty.”

“That’s... A relief to hear,” Y’shtola muttered, smiling sincerely. “I did hold apprehensions that Norvrandt would be the only remaining inhabitable region after we left. But with their mission... The First would be restored beyond the balance of light and darkness.”

G’raha nodded in agreement, adding, “They truly bring hope where they go. It took but one look into Sariel’s eyes to know they were nearing the end in their mission for the First. There was.. resolve within them.”

Before Y’shtola could add anything further, the front door of the Rising Stones burst open as a familiar black-haired Au Ra ran in, wearing a gray urban coat, blue trousers, and black boots. Her long hair flowed behind her as she ran, holding up a piece of parchment in her hand.

“Look! Look,” she called as she approached them, waving the paper. “I found.. a treasure map!” She held the paper out to them as she caught her breath, but it was fairly obvious to the other two Scions that this map seemed... fake. The crude drawing of landmarks on it was reminiscent of a young child’s artistic work, the parchment looking fairly new and not worn out as most maps were.

“Surely you’re aware this isn’t authentic,” Y’shtola asked deadpan, gazing at the Au Ra.

“Bah, that’s just what they want you to think,” she retorted, tapping at her elegantly curved horn. “I’m sure this is a ploy to throw any would-be treasure hunter off.”

“But did you see the illustration on it,” asked G’raha, pointing at the crude attempt of drawing landmarks. “It isn’t very... ahm... well done.”

“See? You two are already dismissing this map! Well, I for one am not about to give up on this. It was fate that this map flew into my face while I was in Ul’Dah, so I’m certain there’s bound to be something at the location. If I must hunt on my own, so be it.”

“All right, I’ll see to it that you aren’t harmed should it prove to be a trap instead,” G’raha offered, earning a look from Y’shtola.

“If that’s the case, I’ll remain at the Rising Stones,” Y’shtola said with a shrug. “Personally, I was never one to be infatuated by treasure or the hunting of it. And I’m sure G’raha would prefer to have more quality time with his hero. Do take care, Lilith, on your next attempt of adventure-hosting.” She smirked as G’raha’s tail and ears perked up out of surprise, the man quickly looking away and fidgeting his hands sheepishly. Y’shtola then gave an acknowledging nod to the two before walking away to grab some tea, leaving the two alone for now.

“She’s not going to let up on that, is she,” Lilith asked, chuckling. “But I’m glad you still want to join, despite your doubts on the quality of this map.”

“Truth be told, I’ve never gone treasure hunting before,” G’raha admitted, still sheepish. “I doubt our explorations of the Crystal Tower count, considering that was done in the name of knowledge and not riches. An opportunity, really, to have that experience and ensure you won’t get harmed if the map held malicious intent behind its making.”

“Is that so? Well, I feel safer already - you’ve saved my life on more than one occasion,” she said as she lifted a finger in a matter-of-fact way. “Hm, with that in mind... would it not make sense that you’re my hero too?”

“I-I doubt it works in the same way! Compared to you, I-I haven’t - I mean, that is.. You’ve done far more than I have!” He was red in the face, hands up with his palms out as he shook his head in denial, tail raised.

“Must you be so modest? Or can you not handle some praise being thrown your way by me,” asked Lilith, rubbing her chin as a mischievous glint flashed in her blue eyes.

“The map! Let’s focus back on the treasure to be found!” He was too flustered to allow this to carry on, hoping and praying to the Twelve that the map would pull her attention away from him and onto that instead. The Au Ra would blink and then glance back down at the map in her hand, excitement filling her eyes as she was reminded of treasure.

“Oh, right! How could we get so side-tracked? Especially when we can find Gil, jewelry, or who knows what else!?” She did a twirl in place while holding the map close to herself - he wondered if that was done out of habit from being a dancer - all while she started to name several things she would buy with the newfound wealth. This was.. a side he hadn’t seen of her before, his hand coming up close to his chin as he observed her. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall a moment where she so openly admitted to wanting treasure or fortune. Or perhaps she simply hadn’t done so in front of him? There was also the possibility that he didn’t notice despite the obvious fixation on money - unlikely but still possible.

Her hand suddenly grabbed his, surprising him out of his contemplation as she pulled him along. She certainly was a lot stronger than her petite appearance implied. “C’mon, enough wasting time here,” she said as she pointed with her free hand to the front door. “There’s treasure to be found!”

One hour later...

“This can’t possibly be right,” Lilith said with a shake of her head, eyes glancing from the map to the area before her repeatedly. “This.. this is too easy! It can’t possibly be this easy!” The location of the X on the map was fairly close to Scorpion Crossing, and even figuring out the location didn’t take too long as she recognized the area. After all, Ul’Dah was where she first started her adventuring.

“Would that make the map a hoax,” asked G’raha, half hoping she’d reach that realization soon.

“No way! Look there,” she told him, pointing to the ground near a rock. “The earth looks disturbed there, so someone definitely buried something here. At least.. this doesn’t make it a complete waste of time.”

“It’s curious, though... You were in Ul’dah when you found the map, correct? Why is it that you went through the trouble of returning to Mor Dhona when you could have found the treasure on your own?”

“Hm,” Lilith hummed, walking over to the area where the treasure was presumably buried. “Honestly, I really was tempted to find it and keep whatever I found to myself but-” She crouched down to one knee, staring at the ground a moment before looking back up at him. “Well, it’s not about just me now, is it? The old me would have done exactly that, thinking she couldn’t rely on anyone else but herself.”

G’raha’s eyes widened slightly out of surprise, quietly chastising himself for even thinking she was infatuated with money for the sake of greed. But now this raised another concern, the Miqo’te approaching her and crouching to be eye level.

“Pray if this is prying, you need only say the word,” he started, ears lowered slightly as he hesitated to continue. “Why would you have the idea that you could not trust anyone else?”

Lilith’s gloved hands scooped some of the moved dirt, her brow furrowed, as she started to slowly dig. Silence hung in the air between them, Lilith eventually pausing and sighing.

“I suppose... It was because my parents never supported my dream,” she replied slowly, hesitating. “Their reasons made sense... They only wanted to protect me, keep me safe from the dangers of the world.” She dug more dirt off, G’raha soon following her lead to help. “Which also meant that they kept me from knowing too much about it. To keep me from getting too curious.”

“That would explain why you were very unfamiliar with Eorzea,” he mused, Lilith nodding in response.

“Yes, exactly. All I wanted was to explore the world, see everything there was and learn what I could about it. If my own parents couldn’t support that, couldn’t let me be... myself, then I was better off on my own.” Her hands were still over the small hole she had made so far, staring hard at the earth. “I didn’t need anyone else to help me nor keep me from what I yearned to do.” G’raha’s hand reached out, palm and fingers dirty from digging, and rested it gently over hers, Lilith looking up to meet his crimson gaze.

“It’s a relief to know that your old self had grown from that, to see that there are many who support you and your dreams,” he said softly, warm smile on his lips.

“Mn, I’ve - no, we’ve come a long way. Amaris, Sariel and I... After what happened on the First, I know for a fact I have that support, and I won’t give that up.” She smiled back at him and looked back down, G’raha pulling his hand away so they could get back to digging. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Of course.. Any time you feel the need to share your burdens, I’ll be there to ease some of it off your shoulders. That is, if you trust me enough to do so..”

“Oh, when haven’t I? You could give yourself a bit more credit.” She chuckled as she now started to dig faster, glad that he was here with her. With her fellow Warriors of Light, of course there was an understanding between them - there were things that only they could do. For the longest time, she believed it would only be them, that no one else would truly understand what it was like to bear the weight of worlds on their shoulders.

But he knew.

He had lived it. He bore the weight of the Crystarium’s hopes for a better tomorrow, surviving and rebelling against sin eaters and annihilation. And despite it all, he still held that inner desire to adventure, just like she always had. A kindred spirit. Perhaps that was why she found it easy to speak her mind around him? Her gloved fingertips brushed against something solid, Lilith soon realizing that it must be a coffer.

“Ah, there it is,” she said excitedly, picking up her pace. G’raha nodded and picked up his own pace to help her. They’d dig around some more, try to lift it, dig again to loosen it, before the coffer finally became free. Though, once it was lifted out of the ground by the two, Lilith noticed that it wasn’t really a coffer. No, it looked like a sealed crate, and barely held together at that. Settling the crate down, Lilith used her gloved hands to grab the top of it and pull, slowly prying the lid free to reveal...

“Toys? It’s just toys,” she asked, staring in disbelief at the contents. G’raha dusted his hands off as best he could before reaching in and pulling out a chocobo plush toy, squeezing it to check for anything suspicious, his ears twitching to listen carefully.

“‘Twould seem so. A crate full of ordinary toys,” he muttered, setting the plush toy back and inspecting the others. “No enchantments or suspicious items within them either. Who would go through the effort of burying toys?” A snap of a twig caught their attention, both turning their heads to see a young Hyur boy peeking at them from behind a rock. Though, he looked surprised and scared that he was caught.

“You there,” Lilith called, taking a few steps forward and bending down a bit so the child wouldn’t be so intimidated. “Is this yours by any chance?” She reached into the pocket of her coat, pulling out the map.

“I-it is but... another kid was supposed to find it, not a-” He stopped and blinked, eyes widening in realization as he realized whom he was speaking to. “Y-you’re...! A Warrior of Light! The Au Ra one!” Suddenly his eyes seemed to brighten as he ran up to get a better and closer look at her, gazing in awe at her. Lilith could only smile and chuckle sheepishly, the boy taking a moment before taking the map from her.

“You started here in Ul’Dah, right!? Helping people around before you became a great adventurer,” he asked, looking absolutely star-stricken.

“That is her origin,” confirmed G’raha, stepping closer to them. “Helping your fellow man is what set her on the road to being a hero.”

“I-I’m trying my best on that,” the kid explained, though his downward gaze seemed solemn. “But... What if you can’t help everyone?”

G’raha and Lilith exchanged looks before turning their concerned gazes to the boy, Lilith crouching down some to be eye level with him. “When you reach a situation like that,” started Lilith, voice patient and gentle. “You look for help. Not even the most valiant heroes can stand alone.”

“Even you?” The boy was surprised to hear this, before his eyes widened in realization. “The other Warriors... They help you too, don’t they?”

“Indeed, and we also have the help of the Scions,” she added, looking to G’raha to accentuate he was one of them. “So what is it that troubles you? Surely we can offer some assistance for whatever plight you have.”

“W-well... All those toys in the crate were supposed to be a treasure to a lucky kid,” he started, pointing at the crate they dug up. “I... I couldn’t just pick random kids to give my old toys to. It didn’t feel right to pick who gets one and who doesn’t... So I thought leaving it to chance and luck would be better.”

“I see, then you made a map to guide one to this location,” G’raha asked, glancing to the crate. “Understandable that such a decision would be difficult. I’ve made some similar decisions myself, though not in regard to toys. I digress.. Have you only made the one map? The one Lilith found?”

“No, I made more but... I don’t think that would have worked because some kids could have fought for it,” the boy sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t.. think that through til now.”

“Well, there’s really one solution to all this,” Lilith said as she straightened up, dusting off her hands as she turned her head toward G’raha. “Get what gil we can gather and buy more toys. I’m sure I’ve saved up enough for that as is.”

“Wh-what!? Are you serious!?” The boy’s mouth was open in shock, not expecting for them to make such a generous donation.

“And why would I lie about that,” teased the Au Ra, pulling her gloves off to rest a hand on the top of his head. “Trust me - trust us. Though, I will add that I need your help to point us in the right direction of where all the kids you want us to give toys to are at. Can we trust you with this part of the mission?”

“Yes! I won’t let you down!”

“That’s the spirit, we’ll collect this crate and then head for the closest shop that sells more toys like this.” Moving her hand away, she looked at G’raha with a little smile. “I do hope you’re ready for a bit more work. Helping the less fortunate is all part of the job.”

“I’m confident I can handle that,” he said with a chuckle, picking up the crate of toys. “Though perhaps it’d be wise to call on the other Scions and Warriors to help with carrying around all the toys?”

“Ah, good idea! I’ll give them a quick call on the linkpearl.” As she turned away to get a hold of their friends, G’raha quietly sighed and smiled. He came into this little adventure with thoughts that she was driven by a desire for wealth. Well, she did seem in love with treasure, but unlike some, she didn’t give in fully to her greed. No, there was more to her than he thought, than what he had seen. And it filled him with a curiosity to know more about her than what he already read about.

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #original character #G'raha Tia #Y'shtola Rhul #writing

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darklingichor · 3 years

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Odd Thomas, Forever Odd & Brother Odd by Dean Koontz *MAJOR SPOILERS* Long post

I've written a little bit about these before. My goal was to listen to all seven of the Odd books plus the two short stories... I couldn't make myself do that.

I use to really love those books. I use to really love Dean Koontz, just recently, the writing has started to annoy me. Since I haven't read any of his new stuff since Saint Odd came out, I can't say it's because the writing has changed. I think I have changed, I'm just not sure in what way. So, I'm going to look at the first three books in the series because 1. I like them the most (sort of). 2. Because I honestly feel like the series should have either ended there or jumped to Saint Odd. 3. Because I'm going to see if by writing about them, I can figure out why reading Koontz in my 20's was like a breath of fresh air, but in my 30's it feels like when the air conditioner is some how making everything too cold, yet not cooling things down at all: uncomfortable and bafflingly frustrating.

Odd Thomas is a 20 year old fry cook in the small california desert town of Pico Mundo. He's seen as sweet but strange to all but a few people in town. He grew up with a mostly absent father, a crazy mother and a loving but wild grandmother, the last has already gone to the great beyond, so what family he has, he has found.

He has a girlfriend named Stormy, they've been together since they were sixteen, his boss at the Grill where he works, Terry, who has an encyclopedic knowledge of Elvis Presley, a 300 lb mystery writer named P. Oswald Boone (Little Ozzie), his landlady who is afraid she'll turn invisible, and the cheif of police.

Odd also sees ghosts, or The Lingering Dead as he calls them. He trys to help them crossover. Sometimes it's as simple as talking to them (though they don't speak back, "the dead don't talk") oftentimes is complicated and dangerous. Hence why his close relationship with the cheif comes in handy and also why it formed. He has other gifts. The occasional prophetic dream that usually only gives him bits and pieces to work off of, he sees these spectors of calamity that tend to show up right before something bad happens (like an earthquake or a shooting) they are black shadow things that Odd calls Bodochs, and psychic magmatism, where he can find anyone he's looking for by wondering around with a clear picture in mind.

Everyone in his circle knows about his gift other than his landlady who is slightly and gently insane.

There is one other person in his circle, the ghost of Elvis who Odd had been trying to help crossover since he was in highschool.

The first book takes place over the course of three days.

To avoid a blow by blow, I'll summarize. After an eventful morning during which he helped a murdered twelve year old cross over by catching her killer, Odd goes to his shift a the Grill. There, he sees a creepy little man that reminds him if a mold and fungus, followed by a group of Bodochs. He finishes his shift, goes looking for the guy he's dubed Fungus Man.

He eventually finds his way to Fungus Man's house, breaks in and finds it unnaturally cold and silent. He discovers a room that is pitch black except for a small red light. He soon finds that what has made this room so black and the house so cold and quiet is the mob of Bodochs occupying it. After the Bodochs stream out, Odd is able to see that the room is an office and Fungus Man (aka Bob Roberts) is obsessed with serial and mass murderers, he has a file cabinet full of folders on them and posters of famous murders on his wall. Bob seems to be planning something, but Odd doesn't know what, as his only clue is a planner page in a folder from the killer cabinet. The folder is labeled with Bob's name and the date is two days away.

A series of happenings eventually leads to odd trying to stop a horrifying plan

*SPOILERS STOP READING RIGHT HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE END*

So, Bob is a satanist in cahoots with a couple of other satanists to shoot up and blow up the Pico Mundo mall, among other places. He is able to stop them from completing their goal, but some people do die, including Stormy who was working at an ice cream shop at the mall.

Forever Odd

It's months later and Odd has moved into Stormy's apartment. He wakes up to find the ghost of one of his best friends's stepdad at his bedside. Strangely, Danny, a guy with brittle bone disease, with whom Odd grew up, was not mentioned in the last book.

So, the ghost of Danny's stepdad convinces Odd to go to his and Danny's house. Once there, Odd finds stepdad's body and discovers that Danny has been kidnapped.

What follows is a slightly weird story.

Odd eventually finds Danny and his kidnappers. One is a bug-shit woman Danny was talking with on a phone sex line. To impress her he told her about Odd. She's into her own twisted form of the Vudun religion and decides that Odd can show her the lingering dead and wants him become one of her crew. She kidnapped Danny to lure him out.

Danny is rescued, bad guys defeated, and Odd decides he needs to get out of Pico Mundo for a while.

Brother Odd

Odd has spent the last several months at the St. Bartholomew's Abbey, in the California Mountains, as a lay visitor among the monks and nuns. The Abbey is also home to a a community of disabled children. Odd becomes close with four people in particular The Mother superior, The Priest at the head of the monks, Brother Knuckles, an ex mob guy turned monk, and Brother John, a wealthy guy turned monk. Only the first three know of his gift.

Waiting up to see a snow storm break, Odd finds Brother Timothy unconscious or dead on the grounds. He is then clubbed on the back of the head and knocked out. A search for Brother Tim leads to a strange mix of science and the spiritual that I for one found really cool.

** SECOND SPOILER**

Elvis crosses over in this one and Odd contemplates becoming a monk. Two reasons I think that this should have been the last one. Another reason is that he comes very very close to connecting with Stormy though a conduit to the otherside. Third, this is the last book where Odd is truly Odd.

See, Odd hates guns and will only use one as a last resort. In the first, Odd takes out most of the bad guys with a baseball bat, in the second, bug-shit lady was killed by a cougar, the bad guy in this one was killed by someone else.

Although his ability to see and help the lingering dead is not the main focus of the second or the third, it's still something he does. There is character progression from the first to the third. When we meet Odd he is trying to carve out a life dispite his traumatic childhood and while trying to do right with the gifts he has. After he loses Stormy, the second commitment becomes more intense, because of his conviction that the only way he will meet Stormy on the other side is to live his life in the best way he can, and that means using his gifts to help people. He's sadder, slightly less heedful of danger, but still fully committed to flighting the good flight, in his unconventional way.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, in the fourth through the seventh, the train is derailed, possessed, and also on fire.

Not only does his primary gift take a back seat, but the fight he is flighting isn't between the forces of good and evil, or even between justice and injustice, it's a culture war.

And the side of the war that Odd is on is peopled with climate change deniers, dooms day prepers, anti-government people who supply other "good guys" with guns, other anti-personnal gear, tech that circumvents federal guidelines. All the "bad guys" are anyone with any sort of power judges, lawyers, cops, corporations, politicians. Their victims are the hard working Americans, the waitresses, the truck drivers... Strike that. The victims are the Christian hardworking Americans who evedently are being "persecuted in their own country" (this might be a different rant for a different blog but I maintain that there is a big difference between Persecution and Denial of Entitlement. Persecution is being in danger of being harassed, hurt, killed or imprisoned for your beliefs, ethnicity or culture. And when that happens justice is less likely to happen for the person or people targeted. Denial of Entitlement is when a person, or people, cry injustice because they either can't dress up their persecution of others in their beliefs, or can't force those beliefs on others, through law, or through being amazingly obnoxious).

Not only are anyone in power corupt, they are satanists, not are they satanists, they are the same sect of satanists who attacked Pico Mundo, not only are they the same satanists that attacked Pico Mundo, they have an actual connection to Satan. Like they can call up demons and monsters.... Yet for some reason they still use bombs, guns and weponized diseases to wreak havoc.

Now, if Koontz wanted to showcase some characterization of how to fight against a corupt system, that's cool, I mean I'm all for calling out people in power. But this vears into government lizard people territory, and if that was the type of book he wanted to write then that's cool too,but he essentially highjacked Odd's story to do it.

I have a hard time believing that when Odd picked up the ghost of Frank Sinatra at the end of Brother, and walked off into the sunset, that the original intent was to end up in the middle of a plot to plant nukes around the country and then, accompanied by pregnant girl who is some how The Virgin Mary's mother, to a house where time travel is possible and mutant pigs fade in from a post apocalyptic future and want to eat people, where they pick up a sort of dead, sort of immortal child, who is neither of those any more. Only to then to leave them to go on a road trip with an old lady, who some how has connections to the metaphysical, and a microchip planted in her ass that makes it to where she doesn't have to sleep, to rescue kids kidnapped by the powerful satanists to be used as human sacrifice. Along the way, they meet up with some fighters in this coming war, who while they do not wear tin foil hats, they have the cheerfully bloodthirsty air of cult members waiting for the end times. (Side note about the roadtrip book: Deeply Odd is the most boring, yet weird book I have read since Breaking Dawn. Say what you will about the crazy pigs and time travel in Odd Apocalypse, it's at least interesting).

And then to end up back in Pico Mundo to fight said satanists. The in increasingly nonsensical plots really just there to deliver commentary on how the world has gone to shit and everyone is to focused on the material.

Again, remember that Odd is pretty apolitical. He's never voted, owns only the clothes on his back, prefers Shakespeare and old movies to tv, which I figure also includes the news. How does this not equal out to a kid being a patsy for this group, which essentially takes over the narritive. I mean, yeah, he's still doing his thing, but he has many of his moves ditcatated by this group. This includes carrying a gun, all the time.

Again, Odd hates guns. Granted, by the last book, he has spent three books killing people with guns while talking about how much he hates killing people with guns, but up till the last two books, his hatered of guns is seen as a virtue, and then suddenly, he's an idiot if he doesn't arm himself to take a piss.

This makes very little sense to me. Odd is a simple guy, he wants to live his life as long as he has to, do right by the dead and make his way back to Stormy, all the while perfecting his pancake recipe. How the fuck did we get from this to "Everything is shit, there are three type of people, those in power who are working for the devil, those on the side of the angels and the idiots who don't see what's going on. And dispite all the supernatural stuff, we still need to busta cap in someone's ass.

I know that Koontz is Catholic, and I speculate that he had a renewal of his faith somewhere, but also somewhere along the line he took a turn into conservative libertarian territory if that is a thing that can exsist.

I feel like originally, the idea was to have Saint Odd follow Brother Odd, at least in some incarnation. It makes sense, the satanist sect want to come back and finish what was started, and take out the town and Odd, who cocked it up to begin with. In the first book Odd describes Roberts and his cohorts as playing satanists but just using it as a delivery system for their sick want to kill people and be famous for it. It follows that others who are also playing at being satanists would come back to town to get revenge for their fallen brethren. This also trucks with Forever Odd where the bug-shit lady was playing at being a Vudun, and with Brother Odd where people played at being faithful.

This is how ai think it should have gone:

Odd goes from the Abbey, where he is shown, yet again, that evil is a human driven force, that those who wallow in pride, in want of adoration and perfection can be the down fall of themselves and others, back to his home town to defeate these sad delusional people once and for all.

Odd goes home for Christmas at the end of Brother, decides he wants to take vows, and goes about the process of becoming a man of the cloth. Maybe he goes back to St. Bart's, and he figures out a way to help the lingering dead from there, or, after he is confirmed in whatever capacity, he goes back to Pico Mundo and works along side Stormy's priest uncle. He sort of Father Dowlings it until he passes.

Instead, suddenly the structured feel of all of the supernatural things, which (implied by the third book) are based in science and the laws and rules of the universe that God laid down, turns into... Magic?

Doesn't matter how or why, what matters is there is a war! And the little fry cook shall lead them!

Seriously. Five years of Christian School has me seeing the turn that Odd's story takes, a couple of ways.

First it is either an overworked Christ story, where Odd is swept up in a war between the oppressed and the opressers, even though his life and mission is mostly one of mercy. In the end being a sacrifice that saves millions (by preventing the spread out f a weponized strain of rabies) but his sacrifice will only be remembered by a handful of people at first. The difference is of course that Odd buys into the culture war even though it make no sense.

Or, it's a Saint's story. Struggle, strife and miracles. See, it use to be that to be canonized, you had to have three miracles. His miracles? Well, first, his helping of the dead to cross over could be one, the preventing of whatever demon the satanists summoned in Deeply Odd, could be another, and finally, somehow managing to send Little Ozzie the manuscript for Saint Odd after Odd himself had already died, could be the last.

Either way, books four, five, and six are completely unnecessary.

So why does knootz's writing annoy me? It's self righteous and condicending. Poking fun a people who watch tv, enjoy unsophisticated things, bemoaning those who don't see just how stupid it is to buy into media, and how people are just marching their own way to misery because they just don't Get It.

It's the same time of people who look down on adults who do kid stuff sometimes "Why would you read John Green when you can read Dickens? Why would you watch Inside Out when you can watch Citizen Cane?"

Why would you eat coco puffs? Adults don't do that!"

I'm sorry, have I outgrown fun? A book is a book, a movie is a movie, breakfast cereal is breakfast cereal and you should be able to watch anything you want on tv without being shamed by a book that has an exploding cow in it.

#book #books #odd thomas #dean koontz #spoilers #revisit 7 8 and 9 #Book blogging 2021 #revisit

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galahadwilder · 5 years

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A Thief, Redux

Chapter 2: Dramatics

A sequel to A Thief, a Thief. Chapter 2 sponsored by @becauseforoncethisisme.

Enjoy my writing? Sponsor a fic chapter!

KleptoMariac Archive

AO3

Warning: as always when I write Gabriel in non-crack fics, this chapter features emotional abuse. It also references self-harm, but none actually occurs.

It turns out that it’s much harder to say anything to Marinette’s parents than Lila expected. Because, for some bizarre reason, Marinette actually respects her parents. And not the way Adrien does—out of fear—but in a way that implies that, somehow, they actually earned it.

Which means half the messages she’d normally send would get her caught immediately. She may be able to fake that kind of relationship with her own mother, but Martina Rossi has never really paid attention to her. As far as she can tell, Marinette's parents do. Which means they'll notice if she messes this up even slightly.

She sighs, sending off a few messages to Rose, Alix, and Ivan while she tries to figure out what to say to Tom and Sabine. One to Myléne, one to Sabrina. Teenagers are easier to manipulate than adults—they're all convinced people secretly hate them. She's just proving them right. Their worst fears about Marinette come to light.

Then, inspiration strikes. What's a parent's worst fear about their child?

Losing them.

She scrolls back through the contacts, skipping over "Princess"—actually, hang on. What is that about? Does Marinette have a secret girlfriend? That would be interesting. Nothing she knows what to do with yet, though. Stick to the plan, go through with the idea before she loses it.

She taps on "Father," then "New Message."

Adrien: Papa? I don't think it's safe for me to stay at school anymore

Adrien: Everything's... too much. Too much pressure. Everyone's turning on me

Adrien: Papa

Adrien: I keep thinking about hurting myself

There's no response, which is a bit of a surprise. Maybe M. Dupain is busy at the bakery? Usually she would expect Marinette's family to be right on top of something like that.

Oh well. Lila shrugs with a grin, checking the time on the phone. The meet still has another twenty minutes to go—that's plenty of time.

She opens a text to Max.

"You have Nathalie's number?" Alya says as Adrien removes his helmet, steps forward, shakes his opponent's hand.

Marinette nods without looking up from her phone, not even at Adrien—she's on a mission now, and there's a fire behind her eyes that screams I am the Class President for a reason. Get out of my way. "How do you think we organized the seats at the fashion show?" she says.

"You mean the one where we pissed off Chloé's mom?" Alya says. She shudders at the sudden remembrance of every part of her body catching fire as she turned to glitter, and immediately shoves that down.

Marinette snorts. "Not like that's hard," she says, jamming her thumb down on her screen. "Okay, she knows. She's going to be shutting down the number shortly."

"Great! Glad that's... settled." Alya looks down at her hands, her fingers twiddling, and for a moment she can taste the metal of the bleachers just beyond them, the coppery taste settling right behind her teeth where they meet her gums. "Um," she says. "Something else that imposter said."

Marinette looks up from her phone. "Alya?"

”You—you’re stealing things again,” Alya says. She can't quite meet Marinette's eyes. “And you said you haven’t been sleeping.”

Marinette looks at her, swallows. Bites her lip, slowly lowers her phone to the bleachers. "Yeah."

”This isn’t just about Adrien,” Alya says. “How—” Her throat slams shut around her words; she knows she's at fault here, she knows she's been in denial about how much stress Marinette is under. But... but apologizing would mean admitting exactly how bad of a friend she's been lately and while she needs to, knowing it and saying it are two very different things. She can’t quite manage it. “I keep dumping babysitting on you,” she whispers instead. “How long as it been since you had a break?” Come to think of it... “I haven’t seen your design book in weeks.”

Marinette closes her eyes. “It’s—it’s okay, Alya,” she says, with an utter lack of conviction.

Alya’s heart drops, and her stomach begins to crawl, burning, up into her lungs. How much has she been hurting Marinette?

It doesn’t matter. Any amount is too much for their Everyday Ladybug, and she doesn’t even have to consider her decision before she flings herself bodily at her friend. “You don’t have to babysit every time I ask you to,” Alya says, hugging Marinette’s head to her chest. “You’re allowed to say no.”

Marinette stiffens, then relaxes into her grip. ”Don’t wanna disappoint people,” She whispers.

Alya grimaces. “You can’t serve from an empty cup, Marimuffin,” she says, rubbing her knuckles into Marinette’s scalp. “You have to take care of you first.”

“People don’t always listen.” Marinette looks up at her, eyes wet. “You don’t always listen.”

Alya’s eyes widen, and she swallows. “I—oh,” she says. “I... I didn’t realize.” She closes her eyes, breathes in through her nose. “I’ll... be more careful, about that,” she says. “In the future. And... I’ll make sure everyone else respects your boundaries too.”

Marinette just nods.

Lila is starting to get antsy. There's only a few minutes left in the fencing meet, and Marinette's father still hasn't messaged her back. The longer she has the phone, the more likely she is to get caught—but if she doesn't hold onto it, if she's not there when the message is returned, she's not going to be able to seal the deal, to properly hurt Dupain-Cheng through her family.

"Come on, come on," she whispers, willing the phone to sound. Pick up the damn phone, you useless excuse for a baker.

It dings, vibrating in her hand, and her heart leaps in her chest. "Yes!" she hisses under her breath.

Father: Stop the dramatics. This is not how you were raised to act.

Lila's eyes widen as a chill shatters through her veins. This—this doesn't sound like Marinette's father. This is not how she expected him to act. Is she—Marinette's parents are so perfect in public. Marinette seems to love them so much. Did Lila misread them all? How?

Is that why she can't seem to beat Marinette? Because the girl is impossible to read?

She falls forward, leans onto the next locker. This is not how she expected this to go, but... but. She looks back at the phone, and a grin widens onto her face. It's still working.

Father: I told you that public school would be too much for you, but you insisted. I have half a mind to leave you there to sort out your own problems.

Father: Honestly, sometimes you are as bad as your mother.

Lila's eyebrow raises as she turns her back to the locker, trying to stifle a cackle with her mouth. As bad as your mother? Something must be truly rotten in the Dupain-Cheng household.

Father: If this is how you react to public school, then I will be pulling you out immediately. I'm glad you finally agree with me about your friends. They will no longer be allowed in contact with you.

Father: You will, of course, be giving up your phone. Clearly your time spent on the internet is doing damage to your mental health.

Lila presses a hand to her mouth to muffle a shriek of delight. This—she could not have imagined things going this well!

She glances toward the gym. Oh, she's won. "Hope you're enjoying your last ever gasp of freedom, Dupain-Cheng," she sneers.

The fencing meet is declared over, and both teams start packing up the equipment. It's easy to pick out Kagami, even though she's begun wearing white—every move she makes is impatient, swift. Adrien, on the other hand, is slow, deliberate. He doesn't seem to want to finish.

Alya snatches Marinette's hand and leaps to her feet, yanking the other girl up with her. She yelps, catches her foot on one of the bleachers, and stumbles; Alya is barely able to catch her in time.

The twelve other people in the stands, Adrien, Milo, Jean, Kagami, and Heloise all look up at the noise. Alya can see concern on Adrien and Kagami's faces, so she gives them a nervous thumbs-up. Marinette whines, hiding her face behind Alya's shoulder.

Satisfied, everyone turns back to what they were doing—except Adrien, who's still watching them.

"Okay, girl," Alya says, placing a steadying hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I need to go talk to Adrien to tell him what's going on." She breathes in, closes her eyes. Don't pressure her, she reminds herself. Breathes out. "Are you good to come with, or do you need to stay behind?"

Marinette blinks up at her owlishly. "Um," she says, her cheeks pinking the tiniest amount. "I... think I'll come with?"

Alya's eyes narrow at the reticence in Mari's voice, but she nods. "Okay," she says. "I can do the talking?"

Marinette nods a silent yes please, her mouth tight, her eyes wide with distress. Little signs that Alya has been missing—has her Adrien-anxiety been getting worse? And Alya didn't notice this whole time?

Alya wants to punch herself in the gut. This is not how a friend should act.

She climbs down the bleachers—over the seats themselves, because who even uses the aisles aside from Marinette (because of her coordination issues)—stepping on each seat like stones of a river, dragging Marinette behind her. Adrien watches them come.

They thread their way between fencers, coaches, and referees, making their way across the gym floor toward Adrien.

"Hey guys," he says as the get close. He looks at Mari. "You... shouted my name earlier?"

Alya opens her mouth to speak, but the Marinette voca-motive steamrolls her first.

"Someonestoleyourphone!" Marinette gasps.

Adrien's eyebrows narrow. "Was... that someone... you?" he says, confused.

Marinette squeaks, hunching her shoulders and trying to hide behind Alya.

Okay, time to take over. "Well, yes and no," Alya says, hugging Marinette's shoulder. "It looks like someone broke into Mari's locker."

Adrien's eyes soften. "Oh," he says, looking at Marinette, and wow, Alya can see the shoujo bubbles in his eyes. How does this boy not know he's—no. Nope. Not pushing this.

"Whoever it is," Alya says, "they think the phone is Mari's." She hands Adrien her phone. "They're sending really nasty things to everyone, pretending to be her."

Adrien takes the phone, scrolls through it, and starts growling. He looks up, meets Mari's eyes. "Ten euros it's her."

Marinette's eyes flick down. "No bet," she mumbles.

Alya looks between them. "Her? Who are we talking about?"

Adrien and Marinette meet wide eyes, lips pursed. Marinette swallows.

Alya's eyebrows narrow. What are they—

"I was wondering why you stole from her,” Adrien says. “You didn’t, did you?”

Marinette shakes her head, sucking her lip. “She was trying to frame me,” she says.

Adrien nods, holds up the phone. "You left her off the group chat."

”Guys?” Alya asks. “What’s going on?”

Adrien sighs, rolling his shoulder. “I think it’s time we talked to you about Lila,” he says.

Normally, Gabriel would prefer to avoid Akumatizing his son. It’s a pragmatic thing for when he reveals his identity as Hawkmoth—any Akuma that goes after Adrien, Gabriel can claim is an accident, that they somehow got out of control or he didn’t know the target. But sending a butterfly to infect his son directly isn’t something that can be so easily explained away, and might ruin any inclination Adrien might have to help him, Emelie or not.

And yet, right now, Adrien is devastated. He’s always been so adamant about remaining in school, even down to breaking what few rules Gabriel imposes—if he wants to pull out, something terrible must have happened. Something that gives Gabriel an opportunity.

"Dark Wings Rise!" he cries, and in moments, he is once again purple-clad, searching out his son's familiar emotions. He finds him, exactly where he expects: the fencing meet.

Except... his emotions aren't at all what Hawkmoth expected of him. He should be spiraling right now—Adrien's emotions have always been dramatic, and he's always been too weak to control them, despite Gabriel's best efforts to teach him otherwise. No matter how firm Gabriel is with him to act his age, the boy always seems to break down whenever Gabriel speaks to him. And yet that's not how Adrien seems to be feeling right now. He seems... determined?

Hawkmoth is stunned. There's nothing for an Akuma to latch onto. He's not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He's a little proud, though. And also kind of confused. Is he missing something?

He jumps as his cane buzzes. "Hello?" he says, flipping it open.

"Sir?" Nathalie says.

"What is it?" Hawkmoth snaps. "I'm very busy."

"I've just received disturbing news about Lila Rossi," Nathalie says. And as she explains what his—he's increasingly realizing, inept—spy has done, Gabriel feels his rage begin to grow.

KleptoMariac Archive

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zuzuslastbraincell · 3 years

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10, 18, 20 if you please

10. characters that deserved worse? >:]

the ending for ozai was poetic justice at its finest and i wouldn’t change anything for aang (I am firmly in the camp of ‘asking a twelve year old to murder someone is fucked up, let alone a twelve year old pacifist genocide survivor’) but ozai deserved to get stabbed once or twice. maybe more than twice. more like twelve hundred times. preferably iroh (or ursa) doing the stabbing. again, asking someone to kill their father... big ask, not sure i’d *want* to put that on zuko or azula even though they have the full right to stab him. (but if they want, zuko and azula can stab ozai a little. as a treat.)

also i feel like iroh and ursa, speak of the devils, deserved to be put through the wringer more for their actions respectively, they’re far more morally grey than their canonical outcomes / character arcs suggest, and have things to atone for.

18. characters you want to wrap in a blanket and tell them they’re going to be okay?

oh like all of the gaang at various points?? they all need that, i think. azula as well. and mai and ty lee. basically every child in the show deserves this? where are their parents? there are so many absent/missing parents in the show and it’s heart-breaking (but makes sense given the context).

20. name a song that reminds you heavily of a specific fandom or character.

My Exit, Unfair - mewithoutYou

youtube

This is one of my favourite 00s post-hardcore/emo songs. This song is quite biblical (but everything mewithoutYou makes is religious on some level) but I think this could apply equally to Zuko during his banishment period/season one as much as it could apply to Azula in a post-finale situation where she’s broken out of the palace and has ran off on an Azula Alone solo adventure, and is still licking her wounds about all that has happened.

My exit, unobserved and my homesickness, absurd,

^ the first (and most key) line I think applies more to Azula, in a scenario where she’s snuck out of the palace, (and homesickness would be abusrd because it’s Zuko’s palace now, she lost, he won, why would she want that?) but there’s a certain righteous indignation in the refrain ‘my exit, unfair and unobserved’ which can apply to both. Certainly ‘my exit, unfair’ is very Zuko.

I said "Water," expecting the word would satisfy my thirst. Talking all about the second and third, When I haven't understood the first.

^ this is very S1 Zuko, that obstinate impatience is very him, and racing ahead to things that he can’t yet grasp yet while still struggling with the basics? Zuko.

Jonah, where's that boat going-- Your ship set with eager sails? There's a swirling storm soon blowing, And no use, fishermen, in rowing from the consecrated whale! Just like the clouds, they bring a darkness and a hard rain's gonna fall, I felt the crowds bring a loneliness and a hard rain's gonna fall.

All the rain and storm references, while a clear reference to the biblical story of Jonah (I’m not good with my bible idk how far this would apply), also are a clear reminder, for me, of Zuko travelling for years out at sea. Two of Zuko’s most dramatic and conflicted moments happen during a storm – the first of which flashbacks to the event of Zuko’s exit, like, it’s just too fitting honestly?

She always weighed me down, But afraid I might need her, I dragged her around. It's best to keep close sackcloth and ash in a whitewashed town. She wore that phony smile on her face, I guess like a bandage on a wounded place, While I kept the keys to every old lock just in case.

^ ‘She’ here is Ursa, or the memory of her. This obviously works more for Azula (though I could also see Zuko maybe expressing some of this as an adult after he has worked through his idealisation for his mother and realised he’s far more conflicted about her leaving than he imagined). “afraid I might need her, I dragged her around” reminds me specifically of how Azula interacts with the memory of Ursa during the mirror scene in Sozin’s comet.

Oh, the clouds they brought a darkness and a hard rain's gonna fall, And all my laughter ends in emptiness and a hard rain's gonna fall, My every medicine causes more illness and a hard rain's gonna fall.

These lines are just emo as shit if I’m honest and reminds me of Zuko’s “everything bad happens to me, I have the worst luck” etc. mindset if I’m honest. But honestly, I could see Azula, “I’m a monster” expressing this at her lowest point, the idea that she only brings ruin hits in these lines too.

But now I spend my days in ever-increasingly complicated ways Convincing myself of the rightness of each word I say

^ could apply to either of them, stubbornly in denial about the wrong direction of their path, having a more and more difficult time justfying themselves and their actions when it just becomes more evident (through travelling and seeing how their actions have affected the world) that they were in the wrong.

The final lines of this, interestingly, are a common islamic prayer. Interestingly, this song is about the singer’s mother (which makes the fact that ‘she’ could be Ursa just more apt honestly), who is a Sufi Muslim, I believe, and this prayer was commonly recited by her to the singer? Anyway the fact that the song ends with both a desperate prayer and a memory of their mother is very poignant I think.

#soozenwrites

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 11: Seeking Truth

Emma returned to the precinct later that afternoon, after a visit with Lily's parents. Killian sensed her somber mood, but approached anyway with a file in his hand.

"I got you in later...if you still want to talk to Walsh," he mentioned.

"Thanks," she said stiffly and he gave her another look. She sighed.

"I went...to see Lily's parents," she confessed. He sighed.

"It wasn't your fault...and you were cleared," he reminded her.

"She's still dead," she countered.

"And she'd still be dead if you had let her drive that night and maybe you with her," he argued.

"Emma...don't waste your miracle on your pain," he urged and she changed the subject quickly. Denial was an Emma Nolan favorite move.

"Anything else on the Taylors from my text earlier?" she asked.

"I ran them both...the husband is clean," he said, as she looked over the information. Apparently Tisbe and Jacob own a few commercial buildings, but it was the shopping mall they owned that stuck in her mind for some reason.

"Uh thanks...I gotta go. I'll be back later to talk to Walsh," she said, as she hurried out and he watched her go longingly.

~*~

David smiled, as his son arrived at the hospital with his father and ran to him. He picked him up and hugged him tightly.

"Did you have fun today?" he asked.

"Yeah...where's Mom?" Henry asked.

"She's on her way," he promised, as he and his father locked eyes and Regina arrived.

"Hello Henry...are you ready for your treatment today?" she asked.

"Yeah…I made this for you," Henry said, as he showed her his drawing.

"For me?" she asked.

"Yeah...it's all of us in my family and you and your dad Henry," he replied. She was surprised by the drawing since the boy had never met her father, yet seemed to capture his likeness. She grinned at him.

"I love it," she replied, as she took his hand. David waved to him, as she took him into the room.

"David…" Robert said, as his son turned to him and then was surprised when he hugged him.

"Thank you...you were there for Margaret and Ollie when I couldn't be. You kept it together for them," he said. Robert shook his head.

"It was the very least I could do and I more than owed it to you," he replied.

"I...I failed you and Emma, but when I lost you both, I told myself that if I fell back in the bottle that I would keep failing you. And that was even worse than losing you," Robert confessed.

"And I couldn't have gotten through any of it without you," Margaret said, as she arrived and hugged him, before slipping her arms around David's waist.

"And you've more than made it up to me by being there when I couldn't be," David assured, as Regina returned and Robert hugged them both, before leaving.

"Can I talk to you both a minute?" she asked.

"Sure...is something wrong with Henry?" Margaret asked with trepidation, as they stepped into her lab.

"No...he's responding well to the treatment. Very well, actually," she replied.

"But I found a unique protein in his blood and so I tested my own and I have it too," she explained.

"Then you think all the passengers might have it?" David asked.

"I can't be sure, but I'd like to take some blood from you if you're open to that," Regina replied.

"Sure," he said, as he rolled his up sleeve and she proceeded to extract a couple vials.

"Do you think the marker is something to be concerned about?" Margaret asked.

"Not necessarily, but I'll know more when I see if David has it too and keep researching," Regina replied, as her phone kept beeping. In annoyance, she switched it to vibrate.

"Just my mother wanting me to come to some pesky dinner. I think I'll have to go just to shut her up," Regina commented, before putting the phone back in her pocket.

"Let us know if you find anything," David said. She smiled and nodded.

"I will," she agreed.

~*~

Gold sat in the conference room, lost in thought, as he gazed at a photo. His thoughts were interrupted when Vance entered the room.

"Your favorite siblings are proving to be a pain in the ass," he commented. Gold smirked.

"Any valuable assets usually are, in my experience," he said.

"Your experience is interesting for sure, but I found something even more interesting in your past," Vance said, as he slapped a folder down on the table.

"You've been digging into the Nolan's pasts," Gold said.

"Margaret Nolan is the only person that showed up at the hanger with their spouse. She wasn't on the plane. I'm going to investigate a woman like that," Vance replied.

"I had no idea that Margaret Nolan was really born Mary Margaret Blanchard, the disowned daughter of Wall Street tycoon Leopold Blanchard," he said.

"I'm not sure why that is relevant. Leopold Blanchard isn't a nice man. His daughter is probably better off without him," Gold replied.

"I don't disagree. The NSA would love a better look into his operation, but he pays the right people to keep us out," Vance commented.

"But I found some interesting things in her past and his," he continued, as he produced some documents.

"The Nolan's mother was killed when they were twelve, the father was a drunk, and yet CPS was always diverted from their home, due to a mysterious financial adviser that made sure their bills and any other matters were always handled," Vance said.

"You can stop beating around the bush already, director. I appreciate your usual directness," Gold replied.

"The same adviser saw to it that Margaret Blanchard was emancipated from her father at sixteen as well," he continued, as he opened the file.

"The weird thing is...the financial adviser never went in person and sent a gopher named Jefferson to do all the in-person work, and operated under the peculiar name of Mr. Gold's Pawnshop," Vance said.

"And you'll find that all my records are impeccable," Gold retorted.

"Yes, you dotted all the i's and crossed your t's. But you failed to mention to me that you have been watching this family for a very long time," Vance said. Gold met his eyes.

"You're right...they have been on my radar for years now and if I knew why, I would tell you. All I know is that...they are important and now with the plane, I'm starting to see why," Gold said vaguely. Vance sighed.

"None of that makes any sense," he complained.

"No...it doesn't, director. But I assure you that I'm after the truth, just like you. But the Nolan's...they aren't the enemy. There is an enemy in this somewhere, but it's not them. In fact, I would be bold enough to claim that they are rather the saviors in all this. I don't know how or why...but they are the heroes in this, so to speak," Gold said.

"If you say so…" Vance said skeptically, as he continued to look through the file. Gold smirked and looked at his photo again, before putting it away and going back to work.

~*~

After Henry's treatment, the Nolan's arrived home and David was surprised to see Olive and a boy on the porch. David did a double take when he saw him and then recognized him.

"Nicholas?" he asked.

"Wow...hi Mr. Nolan," he replied.

"Wow...look at you," David mentioned, as Henry froze when he saw him.

"Hey Henry...it's Nicholas," David said.

"Hey Henry," the now older boy said awkwardly, as he and Olive slowly pulled their hands apart. She looked at him with a bit of guilt and Henry ran inside.

"Henry!" Margaret called. David looked at her and squeezed her hand.

"I'll go talk to him...it's a lot," he said. She nodded.

"Good to see you Nicholas," David said, as he went inside and Nicholas went home.

"I'm sorry Mom...I should have told Henry that Nicholas and I...hang out," Olive said awkwardly.

"It's okay honey...we're all navigating this together. Henry knows you'd never intentionally hurt him," Margaret said, as they went inside the house.

"Go talk to him...you two are due for a good twin talk I think," she suggested. Olive nodded and headed up, as Margaret put her bag down and went through the mail. She saw a few things of interest, but put them down for now, before going to the kitchen.

"So Ollie has a boyfriend," David mentioned, as he came into the kitchen. She smiled.

"If you can even call it that. It's mostly holding hands and hanging out, but he's been good for her," Margaret said, as he slipped his arms around her waist.

"I was definitely not ready for this though," he muttered and she smiled coyly.

"No...but then you were never going to be ready for your little princess to date. I mean, you were bad with Emma so we always knew it was going to be hard for you with Ollie," she said.

"Hey, in my defense, Emma dated some losers," he replied.

"I did not," Emma protested, as she came in and they both gave her a look.

"Okay...some of them were the who's who of human crap," she admitted, making Margaret snicker.

"Mmm...most girls don't get as lucky as I did," she purred, as she slipped her arms around her husband's neck and they shared a kiss.

"Ugh…" Emma complained, as she opened the fridge and grabbed a water.

"Like you two can talk. You were sleeping with each other at sixteen," the blonde reminded.

"We were in love...and we're in love now," David countered her argument and Emma rolled her eyes, as they started dancing in the kitchen.

"You two want to be alone or you want to hear what I found out today?" Emma asked. They stopped dancing, but kept their arms around each other and turned their attention to her.

"So...it turns out that the Taylor's own a bunch of properties, including a mall and I was digging and it seems like some of the mall employees don't exactly have a paper trail," Emma said.

"Illegal immigrants?" David asked.

"Possibly...now I'm not interested in busting anyone there, because that's not my job, but I think it may be worth checking out," Emma replied.

"You think if they're here illegally and Tisbe maybe found out...you think she was going to turn them in?" Margaret asked.

"I'm not sure, but she kept repeating the own your truth thing and maybe someone wanted to shut her up. Someone that stood to lose everything," Emma replied.

"It's a good theory. So you don't think this Walsh Ozwald is the killer?" David asked.

"I won't know more until I talk to him, but I thought I'd head down to the mall and check it out. You up for it?" Emma asked. David smirked.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to get involved with the investigation, because I'm a civilian," he teased and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well it's a little late for that, genius. Let's go," she said irritably. David and Margaret shared a kiss, before he followed her out.

~*~

"Hey…" Olive said, as she opened his door.

"Can I come in?" she asked and he just shrugged.

"I'm sorry...I should have told you that I was hanging out with Nicholas," Olive confessed.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"I'm not mad...he was just my friend first," Henry complained, as she sat down beside him.

"I know...this must be so awkward for you," she said.

"Yeah…and to think I used to be taller than him," he joked and she smiled.

"So...you're actually dating him?" Henry asked incredulously.

"I think dating is a strong word...but yeah I guess you could say that," she admitted.

"Ugh…" he complained.

"He's a pretty good kisser," Olive teased.

"Uuuggghhh…" Henry groaned even louder, making her laugh.

"He's been a pretty good friend, but he's still not my best friend," she said.

"Who's your best friend?" Henry asked.

"Duh...you silly," she replied, making him smile.

"But...are we even twins anymore? I mean...I'm still ten and you're fifteen now," he reminded her.

"I know, it's a really weird situation, but pretty unique. I mean, we're still twins since we were born together and I still felt like you were out there while you were gone, you know," she said.

"Really?" he asked. She nodded.

"People thought I was crazy, including most of my friends. Nicholas never did though, or at least he never said I was like others did. Lance was like that too, but in a different way," she mentioned.

"Isn't Lance the guy that wanted to date Mom?" he asked, a bit defensively. She laughed.

"Yeah...but Mom knew Dad was out there too. She felt it like I did. We never have to worry about Mom and Dad not being together, which is comforting since most of my friends have divorced parents," she mentioned.

"Yeah...our family is weird," he said, making her laugh again.

"Definitely weird...but in a good way. So...are we good?" she asked.

"That depends," he replied.

"On what?" she asked.

"On whether you'll help me with this," Henry said, as he pulled out his Lego Death Star.

"Oh...it's on, but we need the kitchen table for this one. Let's go," she said, as she took his hand and they went downstairs.

~*~

David and Emma arrived at the small shopping center and saw that most of the shops were closed already, but they spotted one woman, who was just locking up and called to her.

"Excuse me...can we talk to you for a moment?" Emma called, but the woman must have spotted the badge on her hip and broke into a run.

"Dammit…" Emma cursed, as they gave chase.

"Wait...we just want to talk!" she called, as they caught up to her and David blocked the exit.

"Please...don't turn me in. I have children…" she pleaded.

"We're not interested in turning you in. We just have a few questions about your Landlords. Answer them and we never saw you," Emma promised.

"You can trust her," David assured, as the woman saw that he did not have a badge.

"Mr. and Mrs. Taylor…" the woman said.

"The night before Tisbe Taylor died...the parking garage clocked her car here. Did you see her?" Emma asked. The woman nodded.

"My name is Cecelia and she came to me the night before. I thought she was here to collect the rent," she replied.

"And that scared you?" David asked. She nodded.

"Mr. Taylor overcharges on the rent for his tenants and if you don't pay, he calls immigration and turns you in," she explained, as the siblings exchanged a glance.

"But Mrs. Taylor came to apologize for that. She said she was going to shut down that practice and charge fair rent. She said she had to own her truth," Ceceila explained.

"Wait...she said those exact words?" David questioned. Cecelia nodded.

"She repeated that phrase several times," she confirmed. David and Emma exchanged another glance.

"Thank you," they said, as they left her and walked back toward the exit.

"So...that kind of makes Mr. Taylor a suspect now, right?" David asked.

"Oh hell yes," Emma replied.

~*~

Director Vance arrived at the twenty-eighth precinct and casually noticed that Emma Nolan's desk was empty, but continued his way on toward the Captain's office.

"Captain Humbert," he said, as he peered in and flashed his badge.

"Director Vance, NSA," he introduced.

"Director…" Graham uttered, as he stood up.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"You can tell me about your newest Detective, Emma Nolan," Vance replied.

"Emma is a great cop...I'm happy to have her back," Graham said.

"Oh, she would have to be. First day as a Detective, without even completing her physical or psych evaluation and she's already solved a huge case. That certainly takes skill," Vance replied.

"I'm sorry...do you have a reason to believe that Detective Nolan's work isn't genuine? She found and saved two abducted girls," he said defensively.

"Yes...when an entire precinct could not after canvassing for several days and then your wonder Detective, freshly returned from presumed death, finds them on a whim," Vance replied suspiciously.

"I don't know what you think is going on, Director, but I can assure you that Emma is just one of the best and brightest the force has ever seen. It was no surprise to me that she was able to crack this case," he said.

"You see, Emma has always been gifted when it comes to finding people. She has a natural ability and it was recognized even before the plane," he explained.

"That's interesting...then you won't mind me taking a look at the case files," Vance replied.

"I'll get them now. This precinct, including Detective Nolan, have nothing to hide," Graham assured. While he was gone, Vance stepped out into the hall, only to find Killian there.

"What interest do you have in Emma?" he asked defensively.

"It seems you were lucky when Emma Nolan came back from the dead and solved your case for you, Detective Rogers," Vance replied.

"Two little girls were saved, Director. I hardly care how it was done," Killian countered. Vance smirked.

"She solved your case; a case you had squat on, but this can turn out good for you," Vance said, as he offered his card.

"Or bad," he added.

"Your choice. You be my eyes and ears on Emma Nolan...or you don't. One can make your career and the other...well, you're a detective. You can figure it out," Vance said, as he walked out, missing Emma arriving by only a few minutes.

~*~

David arrived home and found a very heartwarming sight, as his kids were putting together a Lego Death Star at the table, while his wife dished up some ice cream for them.

"Hey...there you are. There's some pizza left in the fridge," she told him, as she offered him a spoonful of ice cream, which he ate off her spoon.

"Mmm...maybe later. I love starting with dessert," he said, as he slid his arms around her waist and she was surprised the ice cream didn't melt like she did, as he kissed her neck.

"Dessert is the best…" she purred in response, as they shared a kiss.

"Where's Em?" she asked.

"I dropped her at the station. Turns out...Mr. Taylor might have a motive," he replied. She gasped.

"Emma thinks he killed his wife?" she asked in horror.

"Maybe...according to some of the tenants at the mall they own, Mr. Taylor overcharges on rent and then threatens to call immigration if they don't pay. But Mrs. Taylor was going to put a stop to it," he replied.

"That's horrible...but does that mean maybe she wasn't targeted because she was a passenger?" Margaret asked. He shrugged.

"It's possible...and I hope so. It's sad that she was murdered, but I think I'll rest a bit easier if we find out it wasn't because she was a passenger," he replied, as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I guess I forget sometimes that not every woman has what I have in their marriage," she mentioned. He kissed her tenderly.

"Mom...where's our ice cream?" Henry called and they shared a smile.

"So impatient...wonder where he gets that from?" he teased and pinched her rear, making her gasp.

"I will get you for that later," she warned.

"You better," he said, as he helped her finish dishing up ice cream for all of them.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #Mr. Gold #AU #Manifest #with a Once twist #romance #adventure #family #lightning in a bottle

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screensirenfic · 4 years

Text

Black Leather - Chapter 27

“If that little shit says code fucking red one more time; I swear I’m gonna—“

“Woah, woah, woah; Lo! Cool your jets.” Soothes Steve, though at this rate I’d settle at punching him unconscious.

If it wasn’t enough that I spent a weeks worth of pay checks on diced beef, because despite having a wallet that cost more than my entire wardrobe, someone forgot to bring his allowance; I now was having to deal with all the joys of working with a twelve year old boy.

Sorry; thirteen, as he keeps reminding me.

Thank god Eleven was a girl!

But at least we had some semblance of a plan now; Steve’s BMW parked in the woods at the start of our carnivorous crumb trail that would eventually lead to the junkyard.

Steve popped the trunk of his car; rubber gloves already on hands, because of course; the pretty boy couldn’t get his hands bloody.

The scent of blood and death was strong within; the result of nearly ten pounds worth of prized sirloin chopped in buckets, because according to the little shit; his ex-pet was a fussy eater.

Steve did the honours; hauling out two heaping buckets of meat which were already beginning to smell thanks to the heat of the car.

“Jesus, Lola; do we really need this much meat? He asked; his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Apparently I’d forgotten that a pampered trust fund teen like Steve probably never even had to wash dishes; let alone do any meal prep with raw meat.

“Shut up and unload the trunk.” I ordered; not willing to take any of his crap.

It had been his damn idea to put his faith in the wild imaginations of a thirteen year old, not mine.

I would’ve been more than happy to stay at Charlie’s and finish fixing Marty’s truck, then go out with Bil—

Shit! I’d almost forgot!

Billy would be coming to pick me up in a couple of hours, and I was currently about to start traipsing through mulch and animal shit, spreading the contents of a corpse with Steve and some weird kid.

Of all the fucking excuses I could be giving him; this one really took the whole damn pie!

Even if I did manage to make it back in time; he’d never believe me.

Not even when I stunk like a butchers shop and felt half as dead.

Steve was gonna fucking owe me for this—

“Lo; you still with me?” Steve asked; breaking through my mental rant to try and play the reasonable friend, and I wanted to fucking read him out, because I’d lost out on a good damn night for this and maybe even lost my chance at being with Billy for good; but fuck, Steve didn’t know that.

And I couldn’t blame him; not really.

“Nothing. Just forgot if I’d left the stove on.” I replied; the absurdity of that statement going straight over Steve’s pretty head as he pulled his rucksack out of the boot, alongside several cans of gasoline, unknowingly kindly donated by Charlie’s auto repairs.

Steve pulled out his nailbat; a post-apocalyptic beast of a thing that actually had belonged to Jonathan, before it was valiantly commandeered by Steve in the demogorgon attack last year.

Now it seemed the enigmatically named nailbat man was to make a reappearance; all for the sake of avenging some dumb kid’s cat and a half eaten candy bar.

I, however, liked to keep things more practical; having made time to stop home during our little errand to pick up a most vital supply.

I pulled out my dad’s sawn off shotgun from the trunk; making sure this baby was loaded with the finest buckshot, before cocking it.

Steve can wave round that little tennis racket as much as he liked; meanwhile I’d blow this bitch to smithereens with pure homegrown American lead.

Steve looked at it with a mixture of apprehension and awe, still not comfortable with me bringing a loaded weapon, despite me having learnt how to shoot before I could even drive.

He’d get over it.

Fuck; he might even be thankful once we bring this overgrown slug down without even breaking a sweat.

I let him slam the trunk closed, and by the sounds of it, E.T. was finally done phoning home; Dustin pushing down that ridiculous antenna at last, before the Venusians tried to contact us on it.

“You gonna actually help any time today kid, or is your plan just to play operator whilst we do the real work?” I queried; picking up the first of the heavy metal buckets in front of me.

“Alright, alright; hold your fucking horses. I’m coming.” The kid placated, and maybe I should’ve said something about the language, but then again; I wasn’t exactly a saint, and I wasn’t the kid’s mother, so why the fuck should I care?

Instead, I stood back as he picked up the lightest of the buckets, leaving the heaviest for Steve, but you know what; let him.

It was Steve’s damn sympathies that got us into this mess; so let’s see him feel so sympathetic when he’s done spreading meat for the next two hours.

———————————————————

So maybe playing pied piper to a B movie creature feature wasn’t as mind numbingly boring as I’d thought it would be.

I mean; the company was decent, me and Steve wasting the time away by playing twenty one questions and talking with the kid.

Think of it as community service; us near adults taking the time out from our busy lives to give back to the younger generation.

Of course; I’d also forgotten how blatantly dumb boys of the younger generation could be.

“All right; so let me get this straight...” Drawled the voice of Steve as he trailed behind keeping pace with the kid; after refusing to keep step with me.

It’s not my fault; really. He’d dropped a question on cannibalism on me, and I’d rose to the challenge beautifully; managing to both freak him out and educate him in one answer; a finer achievement than any teacher at Hawkins High had ever managed.

“You kept something dangerous in order to impress a girl... who you just met?” Steve asked with such incredulousness, you’d almost forget this is the same kid who took up football in freshman year just to impress Kathy Williams; an absolute disaster which ended with him getting tackled by a senior quarterback and him spending two weeks in Hawkins Med with a broken arm.

Still got that date with Kathy though.

“Alright; that’s grossly oversimplifying things...” The kid objected, because pigheaded stupidity was a primarily male trait with symptoms that included complete denial when it came to pursuing the fairer sex.

“I mean; why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?” Steve asked; the question perfectly rational, but clearly absurd in the eyes of a thirteen year old.

“An interdimensional slug?! Because it’s awesome!” Dustin exclaimed, and I swear the nerd levels here were sweeping off the chart.

“Lola; would you like it if I showed you a slug?” Steve called ahead to me, finally breaking his selective silence to ask an actual female about their kind.

Still; didn’t mean I was gonna give him all the answers.

“I’m not going anywhere near you or your slug, Steve.” I retorted; still not managing to contain a chuckle. Yes; that was an innuendo, and Steve was probably rolling his eyes right now, but fuck; if I didn’t like winding him up.

“Well; even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t... I... I just... I don’t know.” Steve reasoned with a sigh, forgoing all attempts to get me on side, because I was a petty bitch and still wasn’t quite over when he asked me about bra size.

“I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” Steve confessed, chucking down another handful of meat with resigned indignation.

“Well; not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright...” Dustin griped, and I could barely contain my laughter, because was I the only one who fucking remembered?!

“Perfect?!” I scoffed; the word half hidden in a bout of laughter. “You should’ve seen him in the eighth grade! He looked like the fourth Beegee!” I exclaimed with thunderous laughter, because it was true; goddamnit!

Steve’s hair had been so goddamn hilarious, and just remembering it now brought back flashbacks of the Snow Ball; memories of crisp white suits straight out of Saturday Night Fever, and a much younger Steve Harrington busting a move on the dance floor like a barely pubescent John Travolta.

Steve didn’t find it funny, shooting me daggers that clearly said “shut the hell up”, despite the fact his embarrassment would only rile me up further.

“Anyway; it’s not about the hair...” He returned his attention to Dustin, clearly understanding that giving me evils was getting him nowhere.

“The key with girls is just... acting like you don’t care.” Steve bestowed his worldly piece of wisdom, and I could barely keep myself from rolling my eyes.

Yeah; because of course the girls liked Steve because he acted like a total douche, and not because they thought he was dumber than a sack of dirt and didn’t know any better.

The hair was a bonus though.

“Even if you do?” The kid asked innocently; and it was hard to believe that all twelve year olds took advice so easily.

“Yeah; exactly. It drives them nuts.” Steve said; and I had to stop them there.

This kid was no Steve Harrington and would probably end up dying alone if he followed Steve’s example.

Fuck; Steve might end up dying alone with a shovel to the back of the head if he kept pissing me off like this.

“Or he could just tell this girl how he actually feels, rather than acting all emotionally constipated about it; Steve...” I interrupted; offering an realistically sound piece of advice, which might end up with the girl actually liking the kid, rather than mistaking him for the douche of the century; who was clearly already walking among us.

“Don’t listen to her...” Steve dismissed my advice with a wave of the hand, and this time, I really did roll my eyes.

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” I countered smartly; as if sound logic ever meant more to Steve than macho grand standing.

“No; because you’re a psychopath...” Steve replies, tossing a handful of meat at me, as if I was a mischievous bitch that could be fended off with a scrap of food.

“Hey!” I exclaimed; nimbly leaping out of the line of fire before I could amass another interesting stain on my jacket.

“You know; I liked you better with your headphones on, Blondie...” Steve drawled; his attention fully averted from counsel giving, to our usually programmed showing of me and Steve acting like complete jackasses around each other.

“And I liked you better in Wham!; George...” I retorted; knowing how much Steve hated the smarmy pop band, despite Nancy’s insistence that they were gorgeous.

“Why don’t you come back here...” Steve began to bluster; picking up another handful of bloody meat with a mischievous smile on his face, but it was too late.

I was quicker than him, already dancing away further along the track, before slipping on my headphones; because despite being a slippery bitch, I was a good girl and sometimes decided to appease our noble king; if only for an easy time.

I hit play on my Walkman; happy to hear the starting notes of Heart Of Glass chiming into my ear canals.

I turned it up loud and proud to sing along; resolved that if Steve and the kid wanted boy time, they could have it, but I would be as much of a nuisance as possible.

“Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon found out he had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Much of mistrust; love’s gone behind.”

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leal-5 · 5 years

Text

Tomb of Time Destiny Chapter 23

Juvia POV

A knock sounded at our door, and then a male servant peeked in. "Misses," he said. "We're here to escort you to the games."

"Come in," Erza said, waving him forward. Another came with him.

"Can you walk? Or should we carry you to your settee?"

"Let Juvia try to walk," I said, taking hold of each of their arms, but when I came to my feet, my knees crumpled beneath me and I felt a wave of nausea. From the pain? Or was it the medicine?

Luckily, the men had a firm grip on me and carried me on my bed to the hallway, with Lucy, Levy, and Erza right behind us.

"You okay?" Levy whispered to me.

"Y-yes," I said. I lifted my hand to my head. A wave of dizziness was there, then gone.

The doctor appeared then. Why hadn't I noticed him before? "Are you sure this won't exhaust you?"

I was sitting there, suspended in the air on a bed. It was all I could do not to laugh.

"Juvia doesn't think so," I managed to say.

"Well then, here is another dose of pain medicine," he said, handing me the bottle.

I gladly took a swig, ignoring the unpleasant taste, if it continued to keep that horrendous pain away, then I wasn't going to complain.

We went out to the courtyard, and I was a bit shocked at the hundreds of people that lined the edge, all sitting in chairs and beneath tented roofs, shielding themselves from the sun. Simon smiled and strode over to us, his cousins at his side, as the servants set me on a platform. I just barely kept my squeal in when I noticed the way Jellal's breath caught in his chest when Erza stepped out in all her ball gowned glory.

I caught sight of his father, beside him sat Carmen's and Ava's father followed by Carmen and Ava themselves. I didn't dare look to see where Gray was.

Simon turned toward us and urged us to him so that two of us were on each of his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," called Simon. "I present at last, the warriors that turned the tide for Fairytail, the she-wolves."

I had expected a cheer, applause, shouting. But what happened next was something I'd never forget.

Every man, woman, and child stood, and as one they bowed or curtsied, as if we were royalty before them. Just like in Mulan. It was deathly quiet, and in the hush, a wave of honor swept over me. I was overwhelmed. I glanced at Lucy and Levy, who looked like they were about to cry, lifting a hand to their lips.

"Fairy Tail is forever in your debt." Makarov said. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it, ask it of us and it will be yours."

"Thank you." Erza said after a moment. "We did only what anyone else in Fairy Tail would have done, had they been in our places. And we would do it again, for Fairy Tail."

He smiled and raised a goblet in the air. "Well said. With that, I declare these games officially begun." And then he rammed the goblet down, and it shattered into a thousand pieces across the cobblestones.

The crowd cheered and returned to their seats as the jousting line was erected.

We watched through twelve grueling rounds of jousting, wincing whenever the lance struck a man. As hardcore as we were, there was something about trying to pierce a man on a horse with a long lance that was a bit... unnerving. Several men somersaulted over the backs of their horses, sending the crowd into a riot of laughter and shouts.

But then Gray entered the courtyard on his steed. He rode over to Ava, and she rose and prettily handed him her hand, which he took and kissed. Gray never so much as glanced in my direction, which was a good thing because if he had he would have seen me hunched over, breathing heavily, and with my shoulders shaking slightly.

"I'm sorry, Juvia," Lucy whispered urgently, laying her hand gently on my arm. "But you need to pull yourself toge-" Lucy frowned when she was that Erza was also hunched over with her shoulders shaking. She shot a questioning glance to Levy, who looked as confused as she was.

"Are...are you laughing?!" They whisper-screech after they lean closer to us.

I fight back more giggles as I weakly shake my head in denial while wiping the tears from my face. "N-no," I clear my throat along with Erza.

"Of course not." Erza said after a moment when we finally regained control of ourselves. For about five seconds that is. All it took was my snort to send us into another fit of giggles.

"Okay, so Juvia and Erza are officially broken..." Lucy muttered while sweat dropping.

"I knew we shouldn't have stayed here so long." Levy muttered.

"N-no," I said, waving my hands as if to calm them down. "It's just that they always have these little corny chivalry moments that remind us of those ridiculous shows and movies you make us watch."

"We honestly didn't think they actually did things like that." Erza finished for me, still catching her breath. I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing again. Levy sighed and excused herself to go to the bathroom and Erza accompanied her. Ever since the Bora incident she didn't want neither Levy or Lucy alone at any time while he was near.

Coughing, I adjust myself on my seat, wincing a bit from my wound, just as Gray was lowering his helmet. Was it my imagination or did I just see his eyes slide over to me for but a half second? No, impossible. I really need to stop imagining these things. We're about to leave after all.

His eyes were set dead ahead then, studying no one else but his opponent.

"Tell me when it is over," I whispered to Lucy, feeling another wave of nausea. The flag came down, the riders urged their horses into a gallop, and I closed my eyes.

I heard the pounding of hooves and then, impact. The crowd cheered. I peeked up and took half a breath when I saw Gray still on his horse. He was looking at Ava, and I looked there too. But she was staring at me, eyes wide and then narrowing in suspicion. Wah! Oh, nonono now she suspects! I looked over to Lucy.

"A cup of water," I whispered, lifting a hand to my head as another wave of dizziness passed through me.

She rose and then hesitated.

I blinked and dragged my eyes to look where she was looking. To my great surprise, Gray was there in front of me, still on his horse, helmet off, hair blowing about in the breeze.

"Juvia, are your alright?" he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

Fighting back a blush, I smile weakly and say, " Fine, I'm fine."

He frowned and opened his mouth, but luckily the archery round was announced at that moment.

"Raise the handkerchief if you need to leave," Gray said, repeating our earlier agreement, then trotted off to the end of the courtyard.

Lucy was there then with my wate and I drank, glad to have something to do. I felt the heavy gaze of the crowd on me, assessing, wondering. Gray had paid homage to his bride-to-be, but in the end, as victor, it was me he had gone to. I silently cursed Gray for doing this to me. For confusing me. I cursed my sick stomach. If only I'd kept calm, had not shifted, I might not have caught his eye....

"Lucy, could you bring Juvia some bread?" I whispered.

"I'll send some back," she whispered, looking at me meaningfully. "I'm on deck."

I followed her glance to the ring, where ten targets were set up. When Lucy and Levy rose, the crowd went berserk, cheering, beside themselves to see her in action. Bora rose from Carmen's side, bent, whispered something in her ear, then left her. In the gap he left, I spotted the doctor, but when I caught his eye, he moved away, as if not wishing to be seen. I frowned, puzzling over that.

Such an odd guy.

"Are you worried for your sister?" Natsu asked, sitting beside me. He handed me a plate of bread, cheese, and grapes. "She sent you this."

"You are her servant now?" I asked wryly.

"In every way." He grinned. "She has captured my heart and now she'll capture everyone else's too. I'll have no hope to compete for her. Here, hold my hand," he said, reaching for my right. "Maybe it'll make her jealous."

I couldn't help but laugh. He was so melodramatic. And totally charming. I couldn't believe Lucy hadn't fallen for him, too. She usually liked the guys who made her laugh.

But then we'd both be torn. I watched as Gray took his seat beside Ava again, covering her hand with his. I slowly ate a piece of bread, forcing myself to chew and swallow. The medicine was probably hard on my tummy. If I had taken it in modern times, it'd probably come with the take-it-with-food warning.

The targets were set out, and when Lucy and Levy reached for an arrow in the quiver on their backs, the crowd went nuts again. I smiled as they drew their arrows, pulled, and let them fly at the master's count. Everyones struck within the first two rings of their targets, but my theirs hit dead center. The crowd applauded, and the archers counted out ten more paces, and again let arrows fly. All again were within the first two rings of the center.

Erza returned just when I saw Bora lean over and say something to Lucy. She paused, and I felt Natsu's hand tighten over mine. Then Bora turned and smirked in our direction. The skin beneath one eye was slightly purple where Natsu had decked him.

"Calm down, Natsu," I cautioned, holding on to him.

Erza nodded in agreement "She'll see this through to the end."

He said nothing, which was so uncharacteristic of him that I worried over it. I hoped Bora wouldn't dare to say anything more to Lucy or- God forbid Levy. I was sure I wouldn't be able to hold Gajeel back from pounding him. Also, they'll never let him win if he continues to goad them.

The archers walked ten more paces, let arrows fly, and three of them were eliminated, trudging out of the courtyard in defeat.

With seven left, pigeons were released, all painted in colors that matched the archer's arrow tips. They had to find their targets and bring them down. Levy let one arrow fly, and it missed the bird, but she was already taking aim again and, with the second arrow, brought the creature down just before it escaped over the wall.

The crowd exploded in shouts and laughter and excitement again. Only four had managed to come this far. I wondered for a moment if the emotions of killing a bird would slow them down, but with one look at their faces, I knew we were sunk.

Erza and I groaned.

They wasn't going to let Bora win.

"What is it?" Natsu asked, leaning toward me. "They're doing as great!"

"Nothing. Never mind," I said, shaking my head. I take another bite of bread into my mouth, chewed, feeling a pang in my gut and another wave of nausea.

What would happen if one of them was the victor? Who would be the victor? Lucy and Levy have always been very competitive with each other when it came to archery. Would it make Bora more of a lethal threat to us? It was all so complicated. His relationship with the Carmen's family, their relationship with Fairy Tail...

The games master was calling out the next challenge. Men on the allures above us were carrying hay bales bound to a leather shield. They would appear in random places. The first archer to stick five of them would be declared the victor.

"No," Natsu growled. "Of all the thoughtless, crass decisions..."

I bit my lip. It was too much like Phantom Lord. Too much like that night. Would they dissolve into tears? The others drew arrows across their bows. Two looked at Levy and Lucy with concern, as if guessing at what might have given her pause. The games master shouted his count, and arrows began flying. Bora struck one, turned towards them with a smirk. They tilted their chins in defiance before he turned and fired again, hitting the second. I gripped Natsu's hand, hard again.

The crowd hushed, watching the drama play out before them like a silent movie. They kept staring at Bora, who was aiming at a third moving target, narrowly missing it. Then as if snapping out of their stupor, they suddenly sprang into action, on the move, back to back, searching, locking onto their target, drawing once, twice, thrice, hitting three targets in quick succession.

They looked like true warriors.

Men shouted. Women shrieked. But I knew they heard nothing, acting like they were back at the castle that fateful night. Bora frowned and held a hand out to her, as if complaining about their method, but they both took their fourth down before he had a chance to bring his hand back to his own bow.

There was only one target left and they both aimed for it, their arrows meeting in the center of it in a tie.

Children ran out and surrounded them, arms up, dancing. The crowd followed, lifting them onto their shoulders. Nastu and Gajeel gave a loud roar of approval.

They blinked in confusion when it was over and their concentrated expressions disappeared into an apologetic look as if to say, 'Sorry! Couldn't help it!'

Erza sighed and I smiled.

After all, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

"Wait a minute- A tie?!" Lucy cried out, squinting at the final target.

"Again?!" Levy raged, crossing her arms and pouting. "And I was eager to see who the better archer was."

I could but throw my head back and laugh.

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disquietiswhatitis · 6 years

Note

eliza setting up a play date with sam so supergirl and lena can make up

Where are you all getting these Season 4 spoilers from??? Lmao

Also, Lena thinks it’s dumb at first until she opens the lunch Sam packed for her. It’s a general mom-packed lunch. A sandwich, a juice box, maybe a yogurt and a snack…most of which goes against her diet, but she smiles because it’s such a Sam thing to do (and it’s definitely not the first time Sam has had to make sure she eats.)

Supergirl says she’s lucky because when she opens her lunch from Eliza, it’s just a salad with a note that says “I know you wanted pizza and potstickers, but your sister tells me you haven’t been eating your vegetables. Eat up dear :)”

Despite her best efforts to stay mad, Lena finds it amusing; the notion that the strongest woman in the world has to be reminded by her mother to eat her vegetables. Without thinking, Lena says “So Kryptonite isn’t your only green weakness” only to immediately scold herself internally. Supergirl starts to chuckle. It’s weak, half-hearted; almost as if she wanted to laugh but stopped herself. Lena hates this. They weren’t the best of friends but they were…something. A Luthor and a Super, flipping the script on their families history with one another, saving the world. They did so much together, could’ve done so much more together, if only…

Lena doesn’t want to think about it. But the whole point of this “play date” was to try and fix things between them. Lena doesn’t feel ready to forgive. Lena’s not sure if she ever will be, or even that she should…but it’s not like Sam is going to let her leave anytime soon anyway. And if there’s even just the smallest chance they can salvage this, shouldn’t she give it a chance? Is that something Lena wants?

So Lena is feeling merciful and offers to trade, her sandwich for Supergirl’s salad. It’s a small gesture but Supergirl beams and promptly swaps with her. It’s the first time Lena thinks she’s seen her smile since…since before things changed between them. Supergirl tries to make small talk but Lena largely shuts it down. She doesn’t mean to…she did offer an olive branch with the trade after all. It’s just that she knows they’re going to have to rehash their old argument again and soon and she needs some time to mentally prepare herself for it. God how she wishes she could call Kara right now.

They eat in awkward silence until Supergirl offers her the Key Lime Pie Eliza packed for her. It was supposed to be her reward for eating her greens, but since Lena ate that for her, she feel likes Lena deserves it. She really shouldn’t but she hasn’t been eating enough this week and the pie is tempting. She counteroffers to split it it and Supergirl accepts.

They eat it and its delicious, so much so that Lena almost believes Supergirl when she says it’s the best dessert she’s had on twelve planets. She wants to inquire about the dozen planets so badly but they’re not there yet. In any case, Momma Super knows her way around a kitchen, that’s for damn sure and Lena insists Supergirl pass her compliments to the chef.

A beat passes. If Lena doesn’t say something, she’s afraid it’s going to go back to the awkward silence and she can’t have that. Time to rip the bandaid.

“Why not just eat it and not tell her?” Lena asks. “So much for ripping the bandaid” she thinks to herself.

Supergirl pauses before replying. “Because I don’t want to keep secrets from my loved ones anymore if I can help it, big or small.”

Lena scoffs…largely because that’s rich considering what she did. A part of her wonders, more like worries, where she ranked among Supergirl’s loved ones, if at all. Well, maybe love was a strong word…but still, they cared for each other. There was a mutual respect. Was.

“You were sneaking a dessert without eating your vegetables, not breaking into a lab. You should’ve just eaten the damn pie.”

And from there they go into it.

One long fight later, they haven’t made much headway. While their points of view are more clear, the venom between them the first time they had this discussion is replaced with more emotional reactions. There was shouting. There was crying. Sometimes a combination of the two between one or both women. While realizing that neither was without blame, they were unsure how to move on. The bridge wasn’t burnt, but it was broken and neither of them were engineers (metaphorically.)

“Ask me again.” “What?” “Ask me again…what you asked me in the dark valley.” Lena takes a second to remember. “What’s your real name, Supergirl?”

Supergirl takes a deep breath, exhales and says “I have two; my Kryptonian name and my human name” before pulling off her boots. That was…not what Lena expected at all. Supergirl then pulled on a pair of jeans over her skirt…further confusing Lena. Supergirl stood up, walked in front of Lena, a flannel shirt in one hand, hairband on her wrist and something Lena can’t quite identify in her back pocket. “It’s important to me that you know them both.”

Taking her thumbs out of her suit sleeves, the super then put her arm through the right sleeve of the flannel shirt, followed by the left. “My first name is the same on both planets.”

As Supergirl started to button up her shirt, she continued on “As a daughter of Krypton, I took my father’s full name as my last name until I was to be married, which never happened since Krypton died when I was 13. He was Zor of the house of El, so my Kryptonian last name is Zor El.” Lena just sat there, taking it all in.

She’s seen those jeans. She knows that flannel shirt. She’s even borrowed it once before, having slept over after a girl’s night featuring a little too much alcohol. It has the same small rip in the left shoulder. It smelt like honeysuckle and it was warm…much like the person whose arms she found herself cuddled in that morning. It felt like *home.*

As Supergirl pulled back her hair into a ponytail, the woman behind the curtain becomes much clearer to Lena. While physically speechless, Lena’s head just keeps repeating a cycle of different variations of denial. “No. This isn’t happening. It can’t be her.” etc.

The next actions of the woman before her would make any chance of denial impossible. Supergirl pulled out the unidentifiable item from her back pocket. A pair of glasses. As she put them into place, she said “On Earth, I took the last name of the family who adopted me. On Earth, my last name is Danvers.”

It’s her. Lena could’ve written off the similarities in hair, height, build, even the scar next to her left eyebrow if she really, really tried. But hearing the last name out loud and seeing those eyes…she knows.

“…Kara?”

Aaaaaaaand I’m going to leave it there for any fanfic writers to interpret as they wish hahahahahaha. I’m not trying to be a monster (this time), I honestly don’t know the rest of the story myself and I’ve maybe spent a little too long on this considering that I have work in the morning. I just got carried away, I really liked the idea of Supergirl revealing herself as Kara and subverting the usual “character revealing they’re a superhero” trope and I wanted to share that with you all.

#replies #anon #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara zor el #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #supercorp reveal #supercorp angst #supercorp prompt #supercorp headcanon

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