#remember how i was having a freakout about how i thought she’d come to my house n i was checking windows and shit HA i feel validated now

[stinkrascal]

the person who i stopped being friends with came to my fucking house to ask me if i blocked her???? oh my fucking god lady you are 35 YEARS OLD??????

#i cant believe that fucking happened oh my god??????? she actually came to my house?????? #remember how i was having a freakout about how i thought she’d come to my house n i was checking windows and shit HA i feel validated now #OH MY GOD??????? my boyfriend had to tell her to leave bc she just kept standing there at the door??????? #he CLOSED THE BLINDS ON HER FACE AND STILL WOULDN’T LEAVE????????? #i cant believe that fucking happened I CANT BELIEVE A 35 YEAR OLD CONFRONTED ME IRL ABOUT BLOCKING HER PHONE NUMBER HOLY SHIT #thank god my amazing twin brother and his spouse and my boyfriend were here to help me bc id literally freak the fuck out if i was alone #i feel so unsafe now holy shit what a fucking weirdo 😭

[dessarious]

How the Sirens Adopted a Ladybug Pt8

Beginning   Previous   Next

Marinette was certain she was dreaming. She was far too warm and comfortable to be awake. So when she opened her eyes and saw a room she didn’t know she wasn’t really surprised, even if she did expect to be dreaming of home before her parents… before everything completely fell apart.

“Good, you’re awake. Sign these.” Legal looking documents were shoved into her face while a pen appeared next to them. She tried to focus past them only to find Chloe there looking annoyed. That was weird. “Come on Dupain-Cheng, I don’t have all day.”

“Chloe, why are you in my dream?” The girl’s expression went blank before she winced.

“Well that explains why you aren’t freaking out yet. Think, what was the last thing you remember?” That was an odd question. She remembered dealing with the Akuma and then her former classmates being upset that Marinette was gone. Seriously, how had it taken them that long to notice? She took Chloe to the roof to talk. Maybe that’s why she was dreaming about her. She’d felt exhausted… and then nothing. “You passed out and Tikki couldn’t hold your transformation without hurting you.”

“Who’s Tikki?!” Her voice was at least an octave and a half too high and Chloe just rolled her eyes as she panicked. No one was supposed to know who she was, how could she let this happen? What if the Kwami decided she wasn’t fit to be the Guardian or Ladybug?

“You can have a mental breakdown after you sign the papers, but I need you focused here for a minute.” The words were far less snarky than she would have expected and Marinette blinked at the forms in front of her again.

“What is this?” There were at least twenty pages with various tabs marking where she should sign or initial.

“It’s to get you emancipated, gain access to your bank accounts, and to the inheritance from your parents. Those moronic peasants may think that the bakery was sold but it’s actually being held until you turn eighteen and decide what to do with it. These will give you the options to make that decision sooner if you want.” She couldn’t sell the bakery. Could she? It was her only home. All her memories were there; every birthday, every freakout, every tear… How was she just supposed to let someone else have it? “Whether you want to live there or get rid of it isn’t a right now decision. I just need you to sign the forms so Daddy can take them to get signed off by a judge.”

“Your father knows I’m here? Did you tell him about-”

“Of course not. Selina told him that you’ve been working on special commissions for her and that she and her boyfriend would consider it a huge favor if he could help get you set up. It’s amazing how you seem to just collect famous people.” Marinette could only stare at her in confusion. Famous? She was trying to rob the Louvre, in a catsuit. Why do that if you’re famous? Why didn’t anything make sense anymore?

“I don’t understand.” She could hear the strain in her own voice and given the way Chloe frowned at her she heard it too.

------------------------------------------------------------

Chloe knew that the Sirens hadn’t been around Mari long, though none of them had given her an actual timeline. She was starting to think she should have been more persistent in questioning them about it. Now however, she had to do damage control… and she had no idea what that was at the moment. She could only let out a sigh as she sat by the girl trying to come up with something that might help.

“Look, all you need to understand right now is that you’re safe. Only four people know you’re here and if we even thought about telling anyone else Plagg would be happy to get rid of us. Me especially.” Mari looked horrified and Chloe cursed at herself mentally. Yeah she was terrible at this. “You’ve been running and keeping everything to yourself for so long it freaks you out to have anyone else know. I get it. But right now all you need to focus on is taking care of yourself. Tikki and Plagg are dealing with everything else, including keeping us in line. For once you don’t need to be responsible for everyone around you.”

Marinette just stared at her and Chloe couldn’t read her expression. That couldn’t be a good thing. Mari was always freaking out about something and there was plenty in this situation for her to choose from. Her being blank and calm like this was honestly beginning to freak Chloe out a bit. Then the tears started.

“Oh no! Please don’t do that. Look, I'm sorry. I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry. Just stop crying and tell me what you want me to do.” This was a disaster and Plagg was going to kill her. Mari just started crying harder. She was about to go get help when Mari latched on to her, sobbing into her shoulder. What the hell?

“It’s nothing you did Chloe, this has been a long time coming.” Tikki’s soft words made her feel slightly better but she still had no idea what to do. Her arms went around the other girl automatically as she saw an Akuma coming towards the window.

“Wayzz!” The Kwami followed her line of sight and the next moment there was a shield surrounding them. Tikki’s expression was down right furious as she watched the butterfly keep trying to get through.

“Plagg, get rid of it.” The cat Kwami appeared and frowned at them.

“Uh… isn’t that something you forbade me to do?”

“You can’t, you’ll hurt Nooroo.” Mari’s voice was rough from crying but the words were strong. Tikki just sighed.

“Yes it will. But it will give us at least a week, maybe more depending on how he is being mistreated, without any more Akuma’s. It will give us a chance to plan, and you a chance to finally feel and process everything that’s happened to you. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it was necessary. Nooroo will understand.”

“No, we’ll find another way.”

“This is the best option right now. The only other choice requires you to leave Paris while you recuperate and I know you won’t agree to that. Once we get the Butterfly Miraculous back we will help Nooroo heal, but right now you’re the one we need to worry about or we may never get them back.” Chloe could feel how worried Mari was just by the way she hung onto her.

“I… if… if you think it’s best.” The words seemed like they were forced out of her and Tikki just gave her a sad smile.

“I do. Plagg, get rid of it.” Chloe watched as Plagg went through the shield and touched the Akuma, rather than just disintegrating the way she’d expected, it swelled to almost four times its normal size before bursting into silver dust. There was also something that sounded like a high pitched whine as it exploded. Okay then.

“Poor Nooroo. It’s all my fault.” Chloe felt her eye twitch.

“No it’s not. It’s Hawkmoth’s fault. All you’ve done is protect Paris. He’s the asshole that put you in this position. I refuse to stand by and watch you take the blame for things you have no part in. I spent more than enough time doing that in school.” Mari mumbled something under her breath but all Chloe caught was the word bossy. “Yes I am. Now sign the papers so I can get them to my father.” She grumbled but did actually go through and sign everything. However when Chloe went to grab the papers, Mari wouldn’t let go. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” The words were almost inaudible and she refused to make eye contact.

“You won’t be, the Kwami will stay with you.” Mari just seemed to get smaller and Chloe could only frown at her in confusion. That obviously wasn’t the right answer but she wasn’t sure why. “I could ask Selina or Harley to come sit with you.” That caused her head to snap up.

“They’re here?” Well that wasn’t the response she was expecting.

“In the living room last I checked. Ivy was out seeing if she could find Hawkmoth. Though given what just happened I have a feeling that will be a lot harder for awhile. Do you want me to get them?”

“No, I'm okay.” Mari was a horrendous liar, always had been. Unfortunately it didn’t help Chloe’s confusion at all. Plagg let out an irritated noise.

“She wants you to stay with her blondie.” She just blinked at the Kwami for a moment. That couldn’t be right, no one wanted her around. Mari especially had no reason to want her around. But Tikki was nodding her agreement to Plagg’s words.

“I, uh… I could go give the papers to Selina and have her take them to Daddy so I can come right back?” The Kwami all gave approving nods and even Mari perked up a bit. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Be right back.”

Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

Tags

@asrainterstellar @scorchdragon88 @arty-shadow-morningstar @toodaloo-kangaroo @solangelo252 @smolplantmum @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @weirdo-with-no-beardo @laurcad123 @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #Tikki #plagg #wayzz #Tikki is done with Hawkmoth's shit

[shihalyfie]

The relationship between the Yagami siblings

The above line is possibly one of the most vital lines in contextualizing the relationship between the Yagami siblings, but is all too often omitted, and so it can lead to a lot of other questions about whether Hikari has dependency problems or whether Taichi has a natural tendency to be overprotective (also not helped by the fact that Hikari’s own voice actress, Araki Kae, was very fond of joking about Hikari having a brother complex). Once the proper context is applied, however, the relationship between the two ends up saying a lot about both individually!

That's the kind of girl she is! She's always thinking about other people before herself, and she'll never tell anyone that she's in pain or having a hard time, even if it kills her! The thing is, she might not have even wanted to come to this stupid world at all...But when people tell her that the fate of the world is in her hands or something, she could never refuse!... ...That's why...That's why I'm supposed to look after her and protect her...

The summary of everything going on between the two siblings at the time of Adventure has to do with the following:

Hikari is “always thinking of other people before herself” (i.e. she “doesn’t want to be a burden”, a very common sentiment among these very selfless kids in Adventure and 02), and therefore will accept massive burdens or pain on herself because she doesn’t want to trouble others. Because of that, she also will not speak out about her pain, simply suppressing it and pretending that everything is fine, while working for others’ sake.

Even Taichi has no idea what she’s thinking, because she’s so bad at vocalizing what she wants or is actually feeling that he has to guess. While he’s obviously emotionally compromised and thinking the worst of everything at the time of the above incident in Adventure episode 48, he also states that “that’s the kind of girl she is,” which implies that the above incident where Hikari got pneumonia was not an isolated incident, and therefore that Hikari has a repeated pattern of behaving like this. Hence, why Taichi has to keep stepping in -- he has to constantly assume the worst and go overboard, because Hikari will not do anything for herself if left to her own devices.

Both siblings are characterized as “dangerously self-sacrificial”; Taichi will recklessly risk his own welfare if it’s for the sake of others not getting hurt, whereas, as just indicated here, Hikari will refuse to burden other people even if it leads to her own personal destruction. This is not the only time Adventure has portrayed the negative aspects of being too selfless (it’s also a huge theme of Sora’s character arc), and it’s also why Hikari so easily offers herself up at the end of Adventure episode 36; it’s not just about Taichi! Hikari just puts others before herself by default to the extent that, while doing something for herself is hard to do, doing things for others is a no-brainer.

This is also why Hikari’s actions of “clinging” to Taichi in Adventure episode 21 shouldn’t be contextualized as her being clingy to him and wanting him there for her own sake -- remember, the point that was made is that Hikari thinks so little about what she wants that she doesn’t even consider her own wishes as an object, so the reason she bids for them to “stay” in this episode is because she knows he’s been in another world, a potentially dangerous one, and is about to go back and risk his own welfare for it. Since her attitude revolves around “other people’s sake”, it’s natural that she’s not going to be very enthusiastic about her brother and their new friend heading back to the unknown like that. (Remember, she seemed to be fine with him being out at camp and being away from her for prolonged periods of time in general.)

Which is especially enhanced when we see the context of why Taichi has his massive freakout in Adventure episode 48, and the way Hikari behaves in both the episode and the flashback:

The conflict in the episode was kicked off by, once again, Taichi being unable to tell what Hikari was thinking or feeling, and underestimating how much pain she was in, while Hikari had been suppressing it because of her selflessness. As Taichi says, he can’t tell if Hikari had wanted to come, or if she had simply come out of “obligation” regardless of how she’d felt.

And, in the flashback depicted, again: Taichi hadn’t insensitively dragged Hikari out, he had legitimately thought she was fine and misjudged her condition, and Hikari had agreed to go out without protest, only for that to be very much not the case. And when Hikari returned, she had no blame for him and only continued to blame herself for ruining his fun. So, again: Hikari doesn’t even think of herself, and only thinks about how much of a burden she’s being on others, and the incident (and presumably others) had brought Taichi into the understanding that he cannot use what Hikari says about herself as an accurate bar for how she’s doing.

The Character Complete File gives us a bit of an interesting tidbit about Taichi and Hikari’s home lives, in that, if you pay attention, you’ll notice that the Yagami siblings don’t share a room anymore by the time of 02. According to both Taichi and Hikari’s testimonies, Hikari had “constructively” kicked him out by hint-hinting that she was actually not very fond of sharing a room with him and was embarrassed by it! She does eventually admit that it’s a bit lonely without the second person around, but she’s very happy to claim her room as “my own little castle”, and, moreover, with the above context, you can imagine that she, once again, might have been self-conscious about being a “burden” on him due to both of their spaces intersecting too much.

So when we do get to 02...

The line from the second screenshot is the most commonly cited line about Hikari’s attitude regarding her brother in 02, but recall that this is from Hikari basically doing her own version of rambling incoherently. The actual context clue required to decipher this comes from earlier in the episode, when, drowning in the negative atmosphere and impact the Dark Ocean is having on her, Hikari has a vision/flashback of saying “I’m sorry” to her brother. Remembering that the Dark Ocean is heavily associated with “negative emotions”: what does “I’m sorry” mean? “I’m sorry” -- or, in other words, “I caused you more trouble again.” So when Hikari says that “my brother always protected me”, she’s basically saying “I’ve been burdening my brother by making him protect me all of the time,” and the fact that she pairs this with a statement “the next time they call me, I may end up there” is one about inevitability -- she does not like the idea of continuing to burden him, and is letting horrible things happen to her because she would rather not keep doing this to him.

This is what threads the apparent “contradiction” between Hikari supposedly being so “quiet” about certain things yet so assertive about others -- Hikari has never shown any hesitation about putting her foot down assertively when it’s about other people’s sake, but it’s always about her own sake and her own feelings when she suddenly clams up. Tailmon even alludes to it herself in the episode:

Hikari is “strong”, and she’s shown it many times -- she’s assertive, brave, and heck, in this very same episode, the moment she realizes the “Hangyomon” need help, she doesn’t even hesitate to do her best to help them even at the risk of pain to herself! But she’s not going to make it until she can accept the help of others instead of denying everything out of worry for being a burden, which is why the issue starts to resolve a little when Hikari finally breaks down and admits that she wants others to help her, including Takeru, whom she had spurned earlier during the episode.

Hence, this is why the “follow-up” to this episode, 02 episode 31, doesn’t involve Taichi at all -- but it does involve a continuation of the same thing about Hikari’s problem, and she even confirms what Taichi had said about her back in Adventure episode 48, that she won’t vocalize her own problems. On top of that, she adds another layer to it: Hikari compulsively suppresses her own problems to the point she’s outright jealous of Miyako for being able to vocalize them. Hikari’s “selflessness” problem is so bad and self-destructive that even she realizes it’s a problem and wants to do something about it, but literally cannot. This is how bad her problem is, and why none of her actions to this point can really accurately be read as her being clingy or wanting to do anything for truly selfish reasons; this problem of “self-destructive selflessness” was so bad that even she didn’t like this about herself. And, hence, why she felt like she was “burdening” her own brother while she was at it -- it was a problem she did with everyone, but since he was one of the people she knew and trusted the most (having literally grown up with him, and all), it had been the worst with him.

Therefore, Miyako is able to address this issue even without Taichi being involved at all, because the problem wasn’t really about Taichi -- but 02 is a series about the importance of relationships and accepting a need to grow with the help of other people, and therefore, Miyako addressing Hikari’s issue of being so closed-in, and encouraging her to seek help and stop accepting her own destruction just to not “burden” others, is likely to help her have a better relationship with her brother in the future.

...although, by this point in 02, this really was more of Hikari’s own issue than it was Taichi’s by this point, because Taichi treats his sister pretty “neutrally” over the course of the series -- when Hikari’s stranded in the Digital World in 02 episode 7, Iori’s the one more panicked than he is, and he’s mostly just concentrated on having an alibi for her to come back with. And he has zero problem with her flinging herself into dangerous situations over the course of the year, including the stakeout trip started in 02 episode 18 (and for what it’s worth, Hikari herself clearly had no issue flinging herself into such a situation). And when he discusses the issue of the new kids in the 02 group having to accept that killing an enemy will soon become an inevitability in 02 episode 43, it’s a pretty serious conversation with him advising her the way he would have advised any of his other juniors.

This is why context is so important! Taichi had said, back in Adventure episode 48, that he’d hovered over her because he’d had no clue what she was thinking, and would have to take extra precautions because she could easily get herself killed like that. But in 02, it’s not like she was constantly suffering a cold, and it’s a lot more obvious that her actions throughout the series were because it was what she wanted to do, regardless of the risks, so it’s her right to do whatever she wants, and therefore he leaves her to it; she’s clearly doing a much better job taking care of herself, so there’s no reason for him to step in.

Hikari also takes his advice at face value and doesn’t have any particular weirdness about it; she’d never put him on a pedestal or anything, she just still happened to have very self-destructive tendencies that were ultimately resolved with the help of the rest of the 02 group. Often submitted as Hikari having proof of putting him on some kind of weird pedestal is her reaction in 02 episode 4, when she gets angry at Daisuke for being disrespectful about an older sibling, but this omits the fact that Yamato (being a very offended older sibling) got in on it too; the point was more about the disparity between Daisuke and Jun’s more vitriolic relationship compared to the more mutual-esteem relationships between the Ishida-Takaishi and Yagami siblings, plus the fact that, even if the perspective was different, Daisuke was being pretty harsh about his wording (he outright says he hates his sister...).

This is also presumably why, when everyone is presented with illusions regarding their personal worries in 02 episode 49, Hikari’s is the only one that has no relation to her family or home life whatsoever. She has nothing to really worry about with her home life, and Taichi seems to be fine and she has no particular interest in what he does as long as she’s not burdening him further. Rather, again, her character was largely about “doing more for other people than doing anything for herself,” so of course, her “dream” ends up being about everyone else in the world being happy.

In the end, it was more about her larger issues of her relationship to “other people” versus her relationship to “herself” than anything else -- it was just impacting the siblings the most since they were, well, siblings.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #yagami hikari #yagami taichi #hikari yagami #taichi yagami #shihameta

[resident-leevil-old]

RCW's RE7 CONTINUITY:

RCW: Biohazard

in the re7 continuity of Raccoon City Winters i feel like Mia was more sympathetic towards Eveline considering her and Ethan had strikingly similar upbringings; minimal socializing, constant tests ran on them, the needles.

I feel she was torn between taking Eveline away and staying with the Connections in order to help Ethan and it made her feel like shit the entire time. Especially when she had been lying to Ethan about working with the Connections.

She justifies it in her head, saying it would hurt Ethan more if she told him she had been working in a similar place his father had been working in, for a reason almost the same. She knows it's a shit thing, to lie to him like this, but she really wouldn't be able to stomach the look he would give her, and maybe that's selfish but she hates to see him hurt.

And then Eveline, who was young and only wanted a family ("like Ethan did," her brain yelled at her) to grow up with. Eveline, who smiled up at her even after going through the worst tests imaginable and finds comfort in her presence, like Ethan did, every time. Eveline who cries because she knows she's too dangerous to have a real family, but wants to try- hopes she could anyway, like Ethan did.

Mia considers it, running away with Eveline, back home to Ethan and Kyde and stay as far away from California as they could. She planned it out, the whole situation, down from the moment she got Eveline out of that basically a cell for a room to buying a house under a different name in god-damned Romania if she had to.

She accepts her plan as half-baked but the overwhelming guilt and sympathy in her heart allows her to forget about that.

Then the ship, sprung on her that they would be moving Eveline somewhere. The hurricane, Eveline's freakout, Mia's promises of taking Eveline with her and being her mother, the mold.

That night, before the two of them were knocked out of that ship, Eveline cried in Mia's arms for the destruction she caused, and Mia held her and cried for the feeling of failure weighing on her soul.

And when Mia hits the water, when she starts to fall unconscious, she only thinks of how Eveline said she hated storms before, just like Ethan does.

-

And Mia wakes up at the Baker's, and they tell her they rescued her, she deliriously asked if they also found a young girl, if they found Eveline. They tell her not yet, tell her to rest and they promise they'll help find her little girl. She rests, but wakes up again later, unable to keep her eyes closed. She writes on a paper she found just about everything she knew about Eveline and herself, trying to recollect her thoughts when she noticed them fading.

She falls unconscious again before finishing the paper, and she's unable to defuse Eveline's fear and anger before the Baker's are under her control.

-

The years that pass, Mia spends trying to convince Eveline that they can leave the Baker's and start anew. Eveline refuses, too scared that the Connections will come for them if they leave this house. She compromised with the shots that slowed her aging, why couldn't Mommy compromise with her? Did she hate her? Did she secretly want to abandon her? Whenever Eveline asked the answers were always, "No, no Evie I don't want to abandon you but we can't stay here forever, eventually we'll run out of resources for your shots, I don't want you to die, and you'll die after too long without them."

Eveline is content with it, with dying, if she gets to stay with Mommy the whole time. When she told her that, Mommy cried and apologized to her. Eveline never knew why she kept saying sorry, but she stopped saying she would be okay with dying because Mommy crying made her cry.

As the Baker's become cannibalistic and murderous under Eveline's control, she becomes more prideful of herself. Mia doesn't know what to do, how to stop these people from dying, falls under a state of depression. She tries to talk to Eveline, tries to tell her to stop, though Eveline only tells her that she wants to find her Mom someone to be with since she was so sad all the time. Mia knows its a part of Eveline's powers, but the look of innocence in her eyes breaks her down and she stops opposing.

Eventually, Mia tells Eveline about Ethan. Talks about how Ethan loved her more than anything in the world, laments that she shouldn't have lied to him when she only wanted to help him, tells Eveline she only wanted to leave this house so they could be with him. Eveline listens, asks her if she misses Ethan a lot, latches on to the reason she gave for wanting to leave.

Mia tells Eveline she did, that she missed Ethan more than anything in the world, and before she knew it she was unconscious again.

-

Ethan's arrival sparked something in Eveline's soul. She felt angry, at first that this man was the reason Mom would be willing to risk herself and her freedom to be with. She makes Mom fight him a few times, so angry at him for being the reason her family almost broke apart.

Then she watches him cry. She watches this man sit next to his wife each time they fought and cry, even holding her at the risk of her waking up again and hurting him. Eveline sees a man who loved her Mommy so much he would risk dying to mourn her hurt.

And, the final time Mom falls because of Ethan, he didn't move at all, crying on his knees as he held her in his arms. He hardly looks away from Mom when Jack attacks him and even when he kills him.

Eveline realized, when he woke again, his thoughts now shared with hers due to their new connection through the mold, that he loved Mom just as much as she did. She tests him, makes him fight with Grandmother and Grandfather, watching over him as he stumbled through Lucas' puzzles.

Eveline starts to like this man, who loves her Mom so much he'd died and came back to life with her as the only thing on his mind.

-

They nearly escaped, in that stupid little boat. Eveline cried when they both fell in the water. She hadn't mean to do that, hadn't meant to hit the boat directly. She panicked, pulled them both out of the water. She may be angry at Mom and Dad for nearly leaving her but she didn't want them to die.

She helps Mom remember things she forgot, everything that lead up to this. Mom cried again, and Eveline cries for her too.

She talks to Dad, in his head, and she scared him but he doesn't let that get in the way of talking to her. He shows her kindness, sympathy, tells her he doesn't want her to hurt.

Eveline cries to herself, as Mia frees Ethan and pushes him away, afraid she would hurt him. Eveline doesn't make Mom do anything except sleep, lets her rest for all that these years and this day has troubled her.

She talks to Ethan in person again, cried because he was so much more than nicer than he had to be. Cried because she understood now, why Mom wanted to be with him again, cried because she kept them away from each other for so long. Ethan convinces her to let her control of the house go, and she collapsed into the hug he gave her, so so tired.

-

Ethan held Eveline protectively in his arms when he met Redfield, not letting this child who has been through so, so much out of his sight. He doesn't trust these people, but they're helping Mia despite what she'd done so he held back his hostility.

He refused to let them take Eveline from his arms, she was tired and none of them looked like they knew how to carry a tired child.

They have to do check-ups every month during the first year, but they're allowed to stay together. They have to move to Europe, "Romania, huh?" Mia thinks to herself when she heard it, realizing that she'd gotten her wish- just differently than she expected, and no one could know where they lived but otherwise they would be fine. They keep in contact with Zoe, and Kyde (who doesn't wait to say "I told you so," to Ethan but still shows he's happy Mia was found and well,) throughout the years.

Eveline gets a final shot that was able to stabilize her aging process, and she's able to go with no more needles unless absolutely necessary. Mia tells Ethan everything she had been there for, promising to never keep another secret from him again, and he forgives her (he would do it either way). The three of them live happily in Romania, for all of three years.

And Eveline doesn't tell anyone that Ethan isn't Ethan like he used to be, waits for everyone to notice by themselves. They never do. And Re8 begins.

And that, my friends, is the RE7 Continuity of Raccoon City Winters; Raccoon City Winters: Biohazard!

#re7 biohazard #resident evil 7 #resident evil au #eveline #re7 eveline #mia winters #ethan winters #alternate canon #long reads #long post #re8 spoilers #resident evil village spoilers #resident evil 8 spoilers #raccoon city winters #raccoon city winters: biohazard

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Reggie//everyone loves a cliche

Request: Can I request a reader/Reggie with sort of the cliche footballer/cheerleader stereotype sort of fluff plot wise

hey! i hope this is what you wanted! i had a lot of fun writing this!

- At first, you and Reggie don’t like each other 

- Which is kind of a cliche in itself 

- He’s too arrogant 

- You’re to ‘preppy’

- Whatever the hell thats supposed to mean

- But its not like you hate each other

- You never go out of your way to make the others lives miserable 

- Just if there’s a mention of one of you, the other will roll their eyes 

- Any other time, you just try to avoid each other.

- But that becomes a bit more difficult when your best friends start dating

- Veronica and Archie become a thing 

- Meaning there is literally no escape from each other 

- Queue an endless amount of third and fourth wheeling

- ‘you’re the fourth wheel’ 

- ‘isn’t that better than third?’ 

- ‘no because you’re last’ 

- ^Just a snippet of the arguments you would have while Veronica and Archie shove their tongues down each others throats 

- So now you’re forced together regularly

- And because you usually have to spend time at Pop’s, you either have to sit next to or opposite each other. 

- God help anybody who thinks you’re a couple

- Or even just friends tbh

- ‘you think we’re dating?’

- ‘you think i would go anywhere near him?!’ 

- ‘exactl-hey! if anyone is rejecting anyone. its me rejecting you.’

- ‘you keep telling yourself that.’ 

- ‘i just asked for your order...’

- But one day something changes

- Archie and Veronica are late 

- How? You don’t know because you left practice at the same time

- And she’d specifically told you during practice that you were all going to Pop’s straight after. 

- So now you and Reggie have to be alone for a while

- As soon as you walk into the diner and see Reggie sat alone, your smile vanishes

- You’d already had a rubbish day

- And now you have to drag yourself over to sit opposite him

- ‘hey pom-poms. i thought cheerleaders were supposed to be happy all the time.’ 

- ‘i’m not in the mood reg. where’s veronica?’

- ‘probably wherever archie is.’

- ‘...’

- ‘whats up?’ 

- ‘do you actually care or do you just want something to gossip about in the locker room?’ 

- ‘do i look like cheryl blossom to you?’ 

- You’d crack a smile at that which would spark something unfamiliar in him

- ‘no...thank god’ 

- ‘i’ve heard a problem shared is a problem halved’ 

- ‘and where exactly did you hear that?’

- ‘its just something my mom used to say to me’ 

- ‘used to?’ 

- ‘we don’t really talk much anymore. but come on, tell me whats wrong.’ 

- ‘i’ve just had a bit of a crappy day. everything just got on top of me and then i ended it with a really rough practice.’ 

- ‘well, good news is that you’re crappy day is over, and you survived it. plus, i’ve seen you practice and you’re great.’ 

- ‘you’re just saying that.’ 

- ‘when do i ever just say things...especially nice things...and especially about you.’ 

- ‘true’

- ‘don’t tell cheryl, but i think you’re the best on that team.’

- Both of you would blush and look away, not really sure of what to say and praying for Archie and Veronica to turn up soon.

- A few minutes of some very awkward silence, they eventually turn up

- And both of you would be extremely thankful. 

- After that you start to look at him differently 

- And he starts to notice small things about you 

- Things shift between you ever so subtly

- Instead of rolling your eyes, they would light up at the mention of the other 

- And instead of avoiding each other, you found yourselves looking for the other 

- If one of you told a joke, you’d look at the other to see if they were laughing 

- And small looks would be shared between the two of you whenever Archie and Veronica were doing something gross

- Both of you would start to look forward to being the third and fourth wheel 

- Because now it doesn’t really feel like it anymore

- And slowly your friends start to notice the changes

- Subtle and not so subtle 

- Especially when you start hanging out with each other, without the need of anyone else being there 

- So now its just a matter of time 

- Which thankfully isn’t that long

- A month later...

- Veronica and Archie are late...yet again 

- But you don’t mind 

- Sometime you and Reggie go to Pop’s early so you can spend some time together before they turn up

- By the time Reggie gets there, you’ve already ordered his food and he feels his heart skip a beat because you actually remembered his favourite 

- ‘archie text me and apparently something has come up.’

- ‘i don’t want to know whats up.’ You’d reply with a scrunch of your nose.

- He’d chuckle softly and your mind would go blank for a few seconds 

- Because you made him do that! 

- You could happily hear that noise every single day for the rest of your life and never get sick of it

- Oh crap

- Do you like Reggie Mantle?

- Like more than a friend???

- Maybe even love him?!?!

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’

- ‘what? yeah...just thinking.’

- ‘remember, a problem shared is a problem halved’

- ‘i’m good, really.’ 

- But you’re really not good 

- Not at all

- You’ve fallen for Reggie Mantle

- Arrogant footballer

- But also so much more

- He’s got the kindest, purest soul ever

- He’ll do anything for his friends 

- And he’ll do anything to make you laugh

- Little do you know

- As you’re having your small freakout 

- Reggie is doing the exact same 

- He’s just realized how in love with you he actually is

- All it took was a crude joke and a scrunch of your nose 

- Now what does he do?

- He’s always so confident 

- Thats what made you dislike him in the first place

- But right now, he isn’t sure if he’s able to say hello

- So he blurts out the next best thing

- ‘goodbye’

- ‘what?’ 

- ‘i mean i love you’ 

- ‘what?!?’

- ‘what?’ 

- Now he’s standing up and trying to figure out the best escape route 

- ‘reg? where are you going?’ 

- ‘away. i don’t love you. i like you. i mean not that i couldn’t love you. i could definitely love you...very easily. maybe i do love you. can i kiss you? wait what?’ 

- ‘yes. you can kiss me.’ 

- That surprises both of you 

- But he doesn’t waste anymore time and leans over the table to kiss you 

- Its awkward because of the position he’s in and definitely a little embarrassing

- But its perfect 

- After a few dates you’d make it official 

- And then the real cliches would start

- Quickly you’d become the couple of the school

- Everybody knows who you are

- Probably because he gave you his letterman jacket after your first date and you haven’t taken it off since

- ‘it just looks better on you babe’ 

- Speaking of ‘babe’

- The nicknames...

- So many

- ‘babe’

- ‘baby’

- ‘sweetheart’

- ‘my love’ (which is a personal favourite)

- ‘darling’ (another favourite)

- And your nicknames for him where just as cute

- ‘reg’ (obvious, but he likes it because its the one you called him before you even liked each other)

- ‘mantle’ (for when you wanted to tease him)

- ‘love’

- ‘babe’

- ‘sunshine’ (his secret favourite. he pretended to hate it but you noticed the soft smile on his face whenever you said it)

- You definitely won prom king and queen 

- ‘you’re by far the prettiest queen this school has ever seen’

- Your Pop’s dates would become more and more frequent 

- Now its Veronica and Archie’s turn to share looks when you kiss

- He’d walk you to class every chance he got 

- And he’d always carry your books for you

- If you had a class together, he would always sit beside you

- And days were assignments were given and you could pick your partners were his favourite.

- When you didn’t have classes together he’d leave cheesy notes in your notebooks 

- Or even just in your locker 

- He’d always kiss you goodbye 

- He’d also pull you into empty classrooms/corridors to make out

- Even if you were going to be late to something

- Mainly Bulldog/Vixen practice 

- Much to your coaches annoyance

- Sorry Cheryl 

- If you were free while he was practicing, you’d watch him from the bleachers 

- And if he was free while you had practice, he’d definitely sneak in to watch 

- Again, sorry Cheryl 

- And at games you would always cheer the loudest 

- Sometimes you’d come up with your own cheers that were just about him 

- ...sorry Cheryl

- You were a constant distraction to the other

- Everybody would act so annoyed 

- But they secretly all thought it was cute 

- Because everyone loves a cliche 

- And this one was by far your favourite 

#reggie mantle #reggie mantle x reader #reggie mantle x you #reggie mantle imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagine #reggie #reggie imagine #reggie x reader

[butmakeitgayblog]

“ I hope you like the new chapter “?? You kidding right

Cuzzz believe me dude.. we will read it with PLeasUrE! I mean come on Demon!lexa???

God i’m so excited, and I’m excited more that you said it will be a LONG chapter! Awesome.

Anyway i’m waiting the pain and pleasure in this story that i lovvee.

Ps : you promised us for 😆sneak peek 😆just a reminder don’t say I didn’t remember 🏃🏻‍♀️

Oh yeah you're totally right. And yeah it's now over 11k and I still have probably at least, at 👏 the 👏 least 👏, another 6k to go. But I'm betting more like 8k. Heyo ok anyway, happy last day of pride! Cheers to us queers 🍾🥂🏳️‍🌈

Snippet for chapter 8 demon au, forgive mistakes it's unedited and might change a bit between now and posting

Also go give love to sassymajesty it's her birthday today

/////////////

"Oh my God."

"You're very bad, Ms. Griffin."

She could only whine in agreement. 

"Look at you. You're not supposed to be enjoying this this much."

Clarke clenched down at the loud slap to her ass. She hissed at the sting of it, rocking her hips on the silicon that pumped into her from behind. 

Hands gripped at her waist and pulled her back into each rapid jog of hips, the clap of skin on skin ringing in her ears. Forehead pressed to the cool plastic of an industrial copier, she groaned and shook when the punishing rhythm quieted enough for her to breathe as sharp snaps of the strap slowed to deep, rolling thrusts. 

Clarke arched at the feel of a hand smoothing up her spine to wind into the sweat sodden hair clinging to her neck. At a gentle tug, Clarke moaned and let herself be guided up, using the palms of her hands to support the weight of a warm body draping against her.

"Still good?"

Half delirious with a laugh and wiggling to get back the friction she had lost, Clarke felt herself dripping at the warm breath in her ear. "Mhm. Just fuck me, Lex."

"I think you mean 'Ms. D'Angelo," Lexa whispered, nipping at the fleshy skin of her lobe. "Remember, now. We keep things professional at the office..."

Clarke smiled to herself, biting her lip as she envisioned herself being pushed face-down back onto the copier. She checked her watch and glanced at the door, tapping her foot alongside the whirs of its rhythmic back and forth blinding neon light.

She thought of exactly how good Lexa's ass looked bound in buckles and strips of leather. How the harness they'd gotten the week prior sat in just the right way that it accentuated the lovely bubble-esque quality that made it all the more kissable. 

Or biteable. 

It really just depended on her mood. 

A few solid raps sounded through the door as Clarke leaned back on the table beside the copier, a satisfied grin stretching across her face as she chirped a bright, 'Come in.'

The door opened and then slammed shut in a flurry of motion as a wild wave of chestnut slungshot into the room. Clarke let out a surprised yelp of laughter as the small space was crossed in two giant strides and hands cupped her face, pulling her into a messy kiss. 

Lexa's groan was loud enough that Clarke worried for a moment that someone might hear. But the thought fell away just as quickly when fingers trailed to Clarke's hips, squeezing tightly and lifting her onto the table. 

Clarke wrapped her legs around the waist that pressed into her, thanking last night's self for selecting such a forgiving dress.

"You… are driving... me crazy," Lexa breathed between kisses, pulling away just often enough to let fresh oxygen into Clarke's lungs. "What are you doing in here?"

"Making copies," Clarke smartly shrugged as dark eyes glistened in the low light. 

"I am with a client," Lexa said with a needy sigh, resting her head against Clarke's as her hands mindlessly caressed thighs, hips, and chest. "A client and his father."

Clarke burst out in a poorly stiffled laugh. "Oh shit. My bad."

"Fuck, gorgeous," Lexa breathed, pulling Clarke's hips to the edge of the table and rocking onto her. "You are so bad."

A low moan rumbled through Clarke's chest as the words sparked fresh visions of her deviant daydream. 

"What?" Lexa asked with dark eyes and an excited hum. 

"Just something I was thinking about before," Clarke said, brushing a few curls from Lexa's face before letting her arms rest over her shoulders. 

"And what were you thinking about?"

"You."

"Well that's certainly a relief," Lexa smirked as she peppered kisses across the dip of Clarke's chest. "It'd be awful for my ego if you were in here making me wet while thinking about someone else."

Clarke just grinned, sifting her fingers through the fine hairs that sat on the nape of Lexa's neck. "I thought that might get your attention."

"What has gotten into you today?"

"Boring day. Kept looking at those pictures you sent the other week. Wanted to kiss... Wanted to see you in this shirt again. Take your pick," Clarke said as she pulled Lexa back onto her lips. She swallowed Lexa's sigh and licked into her mouth only to have Lexa twist away with a wet pop. 

"I have a client sitting in my office waiting to sign a contract."

"I can be quick."

"I don't want quick," Lexa shook her head as she grabbed Clarke's wandering hand that had been snaking its way under the belt of her skirt. "Let me finish this and we can take lunch right after. Go back to my place--"

"You have court at 1," Clarke sighed, deflating on the spot on the table. 

"Fuck." Lexa hissed the curse as her eyes screwed moment for a minute, biting her lips as they popped back open a second later. Her breath picked up as she looked hungrily over the expanse of Clarke's body, hands squeezing once more at the swell of Clarke's thighs. "Okay… Okay. Come with me."

"What?" Clarke asked as Lexa took her hand and quite literally dragged her off the table. 

Lexa leaned around her and grabbed a fresh pen from a box at random before tugging them toward the door. "Come with me to my office. We can pick this up when they leave. I'll just say I need a witness for the signing or something."

Clarke frowned as Lexa dropped her hand and flung the door open. "Uh. But you don't."

"Well they don't know that," Lexa whispered as she waved for Clarke to keep up with her pace toward her office. 

"You're serious?"

"Yes. You stand there and look… God," Lexa swallowed as they pulled to a stop just outside her office door, eyes dipping down to the hint of cleavage that peeked out of Clarke's dress, "just like that. And then you conveniently remind me I have court in ten minutes so I can get them the hell out."

Before Clarke put up any sort of protest, Lexa turned the knob and glided back into her office with a flourish. 

"Here we go," she announced, holding up the new pen in one hand and ushering Clarke inside by the small of her back with the other. "This is Ms. Griffin, a legal secretary here in the office and she'll be helping us today."

"I just wanna get this over with."

"Don't we all," Lexa sighed with a strained smile as she walked around her desk, leaving Clarke to stand awkwardly in the center of the room. "Now, you just sign these, and then Ms. Griffin and I will handle the rest. Sound good?"

A grunt was Lexa's only answer as she handed the pen over and pushed the stack of papers under his nose, Clarke reigning in a grin at the roll of her eyes. But still, Clarke waited patiently, hands idly picking at the hem of her blazer as she took in the pair sat in front of her. 

A boy no older than possibly 17 sat hunched over and small to her left. Sandy hair buzzed in a high and tight cut and clothes starched to within an inch of their life, he looked as though he'd be more at home in a military school than in the confines of their humble law office. He didn't move, barely breathed through the scratching sound of his father's writing as Clarke watched him all but sink through the seat of his chair. 

"You better thank your lucky stars this lady is willing to do this for you."

The low growl of words had Clarke frowning, shifting her eyes to the older man scribbling furiously through the stack of papers. His shoulders flexed with each rough flip of a page, his muscular body broad and tall enough Clarke wondered if he'd fit through the door without ducking. 

"The pleasure's all mine," Lexa waved him off when the boy tipped his head lower and stayed quiet. "He's a good kid. Just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Well that's the fuckin' problem, now isn't it," the man snapped as his head swiveled around to stare at his son.

And Clarke's stomach bottomed out at the sight.

The man from the street. 

The temperature of the air inched upward as Clarke's eyes shot to Lexa, only to find her already looking back. A pleased smile played at her lips as a perfectly trimmed brow flicked upward. Clarke worked to control her breathing, jaw locked and hands balling full of the hem of her blazer as she tried to parcel out exactly what the hell Lexa was up to. 

She knew Lexa always had her reasonings for doing what she did. 

Always had a plan.

But fuck all if Clarke hadn't realized she was going to be a part of it. A damn courtesy heads up would've been nice. 

"-- which is exactly the problem with you, boy," the man kept going through Clarke's silent freakout. "You don't get it. You can't seem to get a single thing through that thick, useless lump you use a goddamn hat rack."

And with no warning, he reached out a hand and slapped the boy over the back of his head. 

"Mr. Trikru."

Lexa's voice echoed through the office, sharp and simmering with a quiet rage as they cut off his tirade. 

Clarke halted in place from where she'd taken a few stumbling steps forward, dropping her hands that'd whipped forward as though to forcefully pull him away from the child who'd barely flinched at the blow.

Lexa's hand was steady as she plucked her phone from its base. "Finish signing the papers. Now." Her tone left no room for argument, eye dark and glued to the man who threw a final glare at his son and went back to writing. 

A moment passed as Lexa murmured softly into her phone, holding up a finger when the last page was flipped and the pen tossed aside, before hanging up and folding her hands expectantly on her desk top. Clarke felt her chest rise and fall with a kind of confused and indignant rage because seriously what the hell was Lexa playing at?

Clarke nearly jumped at the tiny knock against the door, whirling around to see Raven's head pop through the opening. 

"We all done in here?" Raven asked, her mask of professionalism firmly in place. 

"Yes, we are. But I need to speak to Mr. Trikru for a moment alone," Lexa said with an easy smile, up and around the edge of her desk in just a few fluid steps. "Why don't you take this young man to the break room. Get him a snack or something."

Lexa all but yanked the kid up by his arm, ignoring how he tried to glance back at his father as she shuffled him toward the door. She coo'd a few pleasantries and assurances that it'd just take a moment, telling him to go crazy as she shoved a small fold of ones into Raven's hand and passed him off to her. 

Clarke took a measured step back when the hulking man rose from his seat as Lexa shut the door and flipped the lock. 

"What the hell are you doin'?" he thundered and crossed the office. 

He stopped short when Lexa turned on her heel, eyes black and lips stretched in that increasingly familiar sinister smile. 

"Teaching you some manners."

The sickly crack of her knuckles against his jaw made Clarke's stomach roll. She watched in stunned, horrified silence as Lexa punched him hard enough to send him reeling back. His knees buckled and he hit the ground with a dazed shake of his head. 

A fist wrapped in the collar of his shirt before glassy eyes could stop rolling in his head. Another punch split his lip. Another caused his head to whip painfully sideways. 

Lexa yanked him up by his shirt, slamming him into the wall beside the door. A growl vibrated through the thick air as her fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezed. 

"Lexa," Clarke exhaled, her entire body shaking so badly she wasn't sure if she could walk. 

But then she watched the hand clamped over his airway flex and lift him upward. His feet kicked uselessly and his eyes bulged from their sockets, his hands grasping and scrabbling at the locked arm holding him up.

Clarke's mind jumped into gear as his face became redder, his gasping more sporadic, his movements turning jerky and less desperate. She lurched forward, staring at the side of Lexa's face.

"Lex, let him go."

The growling only deepened. 

"Lexa, let go of him," she snapped, raising her chin when black eyes turned to her with a snarl. 

She licked her lips and steadied her breathing and said the exact first thing that popped into her head.

"You hate cleaning up messes at work."

The growling stuttered as Lexa's eyebrows furrowed together, her head tilting in obvious confusion. 

"You told me you hate cleaning up messes at the office," Clarke rushed out, grabbing onto the one thing that Lexa had ever really complained about and riding the thought process to hell and back. "If you kill him right now, think about what you're going to have to deal with. There's gonna be an upset kid. Everyone's gonna freak out. Ambulances, witness statements. A literal dead body in your goddamn office. Think about it."

Lexa stared at her for a long moment, her jaw ticking in annoyance though, thankfully, the growling had stopped. And then without pause, Lexa loosened her hold and let him drop.

He crumpled to the floor in front of them, hacking coughs racking his body and his hands moved to massage his neck. Lexa squatted down, elbows resting on her knees as she leaned into his face.

"I think you should thank your lucky stars this lady was willing to do this for you, Mr. Trikru," Lexa spat in a harsh whisper. "But make no mistake... I will be seeing you again."

/////////////

#anon #demon!lexa

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

#steve harrington #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #a raven's writing desk

[amelialincoln]

When We Were Young

“Why’s Amelia at the hospital?” Carina grumbled, placing her hands on her hips in annoyance. She’d been trying to get the restless neurosurgeon to stop working for weeks now with no complaisance shown on Amelia’s part.

“Carina…” Link sighed, he wore a look of exhaustion. Carina took in the couple’s appearances and realized they looked as if they’d just rolled out of bed.  

“Fine, what’s going on?” She gave in. She enjoyed being along for the ride of Amelia and Link’s pregnancy. Despite it being unexpected, it had mostly been drama free. Which was out of the norm when dealing specifically with pregnant surgeons at Grey Sloan.

“She’s been complaining about Braxton hicks all day,” Link reports, glancing at Amelia who looked, if it were possible, even more tired than him.

“He made me come in,” she muttered. “I was keeping him up.”

“Okay, let’s get you checked out.” Carina wheeled in the portable ultrasound before Amelia could even hoist herself up onto the patient bed. However the patient bed was relatively tall and Amelia was anything but that. Hoisting herself up was probably giving herself more credit than she deserved; she realized, as she accepted Link’s hand. “Alright, Amelia, lets see what’s going on.” She nodded, pulling up her shirt to reveal her tummy. Her skin had stretched so much that it was hard to shake the feeling that she was about to pop, not sure how much more her body would give. “How have you been feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. My ankles are huge, I had to wear Link’s shoes.” Carina glanced at down and was amused to indeed find Link’s massive shoes practically hanging off Amelia’s feet.  

“Sounds about right. Any pain anywhere that doesn’t feel right?” Amelia shook her head in response, stifling a yawn. “No bleeding or anything like that?” Carina asked again.

“Nope,” Link answered over Amelia’s sharp intake of breath. He watched her sympathetically as she leaned her head back in pain and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’m going to do an ultrasound,” Carina told him, waiting for Amelia’s pain to suppress. “How far apart are the Braxton hicks?”

“About a half hour,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“And do you find that they’re random?” Carina jotted some notes down on her Ipad.

“No, I can usually predict when one’s coming.” The OB/GYN could tell Amelia’s contraction was over as soon as she swayed forward and closed her eyes in fatigue. She stopped the timer she’d started on her phone and jotted down that as well.

“Okay,” Carina responded, maneuvering the wand around Amelia’s bump. “There he is. Not a lot of movement. He’s getting ready.” After getting what she needed she turned off the machine and wiped the gel off Amelia’s stomach. “I know you're tired but this could be the start to a long night. Do you have any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” the brunette answered, pulling her scrub top back over her large stomach.

“Have you been having any back pain?”

“Yes, she has,” Link confirmed, locking eyes with his girlfriend and giving her a small smile.

“Alright Amelia, I’m pretty sure you’re in the early stages of labour,” Carina told her slowly, watching Amelia recoil a bit in fear. “Your water hasn’t broken. Normally I would send someone in your condition home but I don’t trust either of you to not fall asleep at the wheel right now. Maybe go to your office? As soon as it does break, come down and we’ll get you a room.”

“We’re having a baby tonight?” Link verified, glancing at Amelia who looked to be having an internal freakout. .

“Possibly. It looks to be progressing slowly so it might be more like tomorrow.” With that she left the couple to have their peace.

“Wow.” Was all Link could say, barely noticing his girlfriend’s concerned expression. “Did you hear that, babe? Tomorrow?” He turned to Amelia to find her slowly rolling back her top, her mouth formed a thin line.

“I’m not supposed to be due until next week,” she stated as he helped her out of the bed.

“One week won’t make a difference, Mia,” Link chuckled. “The baby will be fine.”

“Tomorrow’s his birthday.”

“Who’s--” Link could barely get the words out.

“Christopher’s,” Amelia choked out. “It’s supposed to be his day. Why would the universe do this? I thought having their due dates a week apart would be hard. This feels almost spiteful.” He could tell she was trying not to cry. Instead, she cursed something about hormones and brushed the tears away.

“Hey, this is a good thing, remember? We’re having a baby. Now we can celebrate their birthdays together. Do you usually do anything special for him?”

“I usually light a candle. In the chapel downstairs,” she admitted.

“Well I’m not letting you waddle all the way down there right now.” He bit his lip, trying to keep a smile off his face in response to her scowl of frustration due to him bringing up her ‘waddling’. “But I can run down there right now and light one. And then every year after this we can all come. You me and the baby. And maybe more babies.” He grinned at the idea of that. “And we can all light one every year for Christopher’s birthday.”

“Really?” Her eyes misted at the thought of that.

“Of course,” he promised. Amelia abruptly yelped in pain, leaning against the wall for support. “That was twenty six minutes,” he noted, glancing at the clock.

“Fuck,” She grimaced. “Are we ready for this?” Link’s head bobbed, Amelia, in all her weariness, suddenly realized that her boyfriend was the human embodiment of a golden retriever. “Well you better get running then.” She smirked at the thought of Link doing his frequent sprint through the hospital. “If I have to go through a contraction without you here I might just file for full custody.” She looked back to find that Link had taken her comment quite literally and all that was left of him was the sounds of his heavy footsteps echoing through the hospital corridor.

#amelink #amelia shepherd #amelink fanfiction #amelinkfanfic #amelink fanfic #link #Atticus Lincoln #atticus link #atticuslincoln #greysanatomy

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

A Fox and a Guardian-Part 1

Originally this was one huge post but given I got caught up in work and didn’t finish, I decided to do this in smaller posts- this is my JayTim MariBat au!!! Hope you guys like!!! 

When Marinette steps into her new home she nearly breaks down crying. She doesn’t. But just barely.

 “Here are the keys Miss Fu.” The realtor smiles and hands her the set of keys to the house. She smiles and takes them.

 “Thank you,” she tells the woman who leaves with a wave. Marinette already knows the story. Store on the bottom, three-bedroom apartment up top. Movers had already gone ahead and put her furniture in the house, along with her luggage except for the two bags she carried. She doesn’t need to know more.

 It’s only when the woman is gone Marinette collapses. 

 She chokes out big heavy sobs, shoulders shaking as Tikki, Plagg and the others fly out to comfort her.

 She’s finally safe. She’s safe. Oh god, she’s safe.

-0-

 It all went to hell when they confronted Hawkmoth. He managed to get their Miraculous and use it for his wish.

 He wanted his wife back.

 Gabriel wanted his wife back. 

 He got his wish.

 But he lost his son.

 One second Chat was next to her- no not Chat, Adrien- alive and terrified, trying to get back the Miraculous from his own father. He knew as well as she did that they were dangerous in anyone’s hands. 

 One second he was alive, next to her. The next he was dead.

 A life for a life. 

 While Emilie and Gabriel were screaming, yelling at one another, Marinette had snatched the Miraculous. All of them. And then she’d run.

 Emilie never made an appearance. Gabriel claimed Marinette had murdered Adrien after he rejected her. 

 Paris believed it. And Marinette had no proof otherwise.

 Her parents helped her run. Her parents knew everything and helped her flee. Jagged helped as well as she ran away from Paris, promises coming from her lips.

 She kept running until she reached Tibet. Where only three Masters remained. The new time period wasn’t healthy for them. They had been old, diseases had mutated.

 Only three. And they were dying.

 She learned what she could, gained the vast fortune they had left to Fu now left to her. And then she’s made a new name for herself, a new identity. 

 She buried the last Masters and headed to America. Gotham to be exact. No one would expect her there in the criminal capital of America. 

 She had bought a building. A place to call her own, a place to work and be herself.

 She had bought herself a sanctuary:

-0-

 The new shop near the Bowery is a bit of a strange mix between an occult store and a bookstore. The owner is this Asian girl with a bright smile who wears flowered shirts- often Hawaiian tourist shirts- and soothing colours. She talks about crystals and chakras and karma with everyone who comes in. Her books are a strange collection but she knows a lot and is always willing to chat. 

 People who go in, feel calmer and happier, people who try to shake the place down find themselves with cards about job training or new thoughts- or they’re just beaten up. Women who struggle in relationships either find ways to fix things or find the courage to end it after talking to the owner who calls herself Mari.

 The shop, The Black Bug, is an adorable place in Gotham. 

-0-

 Mari steps out on the balcony in her apartment, transformed using the Black Cat. She needs to run, needs to feel the magic of the Kwami in her as she runs across Gotham. Smiling, she takes off. 

 She runs across Gotham, feeling the air, feeling the rush of the world passing her by. She smiles as she lands on a rooftop, tears trickling in her eyes. 

 “I wish you were here Kitty,” she says to the ghosts of the past. She stands on the rooftop, staring at the smog-filled sky. 

 Noises make her turn her head to an alley, the former hero slinking over to study what was going on below her.

 Batman and Robin are fighting some thugs it seemed. Marinette sighs, smiling. She remembers fighting street crime with Adrien. It was magical, the two working together.

 She watches for a short time, sighing. About to leave, she stops when something in the back of her mind tugs her attention. 

 A little boy on the rooftop across from her, carrying a camera. 

Look, whispers the voice in her head. A strong candidate for a Holder, a strong future Guardian.

 Oh… oh… oh dear.

-0-

 Tim Drake loves Batman and Robin. He has since he was a little boy and saw Dick Grayson fly. He loves Batman with a fever that few could match. 

 That being said, Tim isn’t unaware of other heroes around the world. 

 So when Lady Noire- as in Ladybug from Paris- drops down to sit next to him, he has a little, tiny… sorta huge freakout.

 “Oh god…” he breathes and the woman grins.

 “Well, looks like I have a fan.” she smiles at him, and honestly Tim has never felt so happy.

-0-

 His name is Tim Drake and he’s just a little boy with neglectful parents who prefer their money and work to their son.

 She sees a blonde with green eyes when she hears that.

She takes him on trips around the rooftops, trips always ending in food he loves and laughs about.

He talks about his cameras, shows her his pictures, admits his love of detectives and babbles all about heroes. Marinette sees herself when he speaks of that.

 She makes sure to meet him daily, giving him advice on stalking Robin and Batman. Mostly Batman now, the two heroes arguing and fighting more. Tim is sad about it, so Marinette begins telling him stories about past Holders, sharing stories about Chat even that makes him laugh.

 “You miss him, don’t you?” he asks her, one night while they’re drinking milkshakes and sitting on a rooftop.

 “He was my partner-  we were yin and yang. I never thought I’d lose him.” she tells him. He reaches out to hold her hand and she smiles at him, this little boy who reminds her of Adrien and herself. 

 One day, while he whines he couldn’t get good enough pictures of his heroes, she grins and holds out a box.

 “Want to try something else out?”

-0-

 A fox joins Lady Noire as the two run around Gotham, laughing and playing. 

 The Black Bug gains a cute little shop assistant who helps out the owner and has his own array of knowledge. 

 Jack and Janet Drake lose their son in a quiet custody battle that is very one-sided with the proof of their neglect. They let go when it’s pointed out how bad it could be to the company if it got out how they treated their son.

 Marianne Fu and her son Tim Fu are very happy in a little shop in Gotham.

#maribat #ml au #part 1 #miraculous ladybug

[ixalit]

Sweet Just Like Chocolate

@darter-blue sent me a wonderfully fluffy prompt in the form of this post. 

“Today I gave my crush a box of chocolates and told him how I felt, He and his friends started laughing, and I thought they were mocking me. But then he pulled a box of chocolates out of his backpack with my name on it. I freaked out.”

Read on AO3!

••••••

Bucky walks into the conference room Monday morning with clammy hands and butterflies in his stomach. Today is the day. He’s going to put it all out there; tell Steve how he feels and hope for the best. He’s not actually expecting Steve to share his feelings, but hopefully they can still stay friends after this. Over the past several months since his Love Revelation, his therapist, Tracy, has arduously convinced him that telling the truth is the best way forward. 

It’s been a whole thing. Bucky has hyped himself up for it over the weekend in between freakouts on the phone to Clint. Hell, he even bought a box of fancy chocolates from the shop near his apartment. They’re the kind he and Steve used to stare at and pretend not to drool over when they were kids in the 20s. Back then, they hadn’t had enough money to spend on the decadent treats. 

With his back pay from the army, Bucky has much more than enough now, though. Even so, he knows that if he were to spend it all spoiling Steve, it wouldn’t come close to expressing how he felt. Which is why, assuming he can go through with it, he’s using his words, as Tracy’s so fond of saying. Bucky bounces a few times on the balls of his feet and wrings his hands. He can do this. He can so, totally, maybe … do this. 

Steve walks into the room with Nat and Sam flanking him, and Bucky’s hope dies a little in his chest. How can he do this with them here? He’d been expecting Steve to come in alone ahead of time to set up like usual. What was different about today? As he catalogs their expressions and body language, Bucky notices the glint in Nat’s eye, the smirk playing on Sam’s lips, and the glances they keep shooting Steve every two seconds. And Steve, he’s … well, he looks nervous. His shoulders are curled in like he wants to appear smaller, and he’s absentmindedly biting his lips. If that wasn’t enough to tell, he keeps wiping his palms on his jeans and fidgeting with the bag he’s holding. 

God, he really can’t keep anything hidden, can he? Bucky smiles at the thought. When he’d mentioned that to Tracy, she’d frowned and disagreed, saying that she’d only ever seen Steve incapable of hiding his emotions around Bucky. 

Steve clears his throat and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey. Um, can we talk? Uh, privately?” Bucky looks pointedly to Nat and Sam. They’re hanging back by the door, but are still very much in the room. 

Steve turns and scowls at them, “Guys, go in the hall, at least. Please?”

Once he’s satisfied they’re at least out of sight, Bucky picks up the chocolates he’d set on the table and thrusts them towards Steve. “Here. I, um, got these. For you.” God, he sounds like an idiot. He practiced this, for Chrissake! 

“Oh, thanks...” Steve’s voice rises at the end like it’s a question, but he takes the chocolates nevertheless. 

If he’s going to do this, he’s gotta do it now, before he loses his nerve and makes up an excuse for the gift. Bucky steels himself like he used to in the army. Feet planted, shoulders squared, face forward. He even takes a deep breath for good measure. Tracy would be proud. 

“Ilikeyou,” he breathes into the space between him and Steve. 

“You … what?” For his part, Steve looks completely surprised. 

“I like you,” Bucky repeats, slower this time.

“I … what’re you saying, Buck? What does that mean?” There’s a faint blush spreading from the tips of Steve’s ears, across his cheeks, and down his neck. 

“It means I like you, Punk,” he says again. Steve still has that dumb, surprised look on his face. Open mouth, wide eyes, and all. Bucky takes pity on him and adds in a softer voice, “I love you, Stevie.”

Then he hears it. Sam and Nat are laughing in the hallway. Actually laughing at him. Shushing each other and, from the muffled sounds, trading light punches. Bucky frowns. He knew they were listening, knows he and Sam have a complicated friendship, but he expected them to have a bit more tact. But no, they are very obviously mocking him. 

Natasha is the first to walk back into the room. “Oh come on, Steve. Just show him already,” she says with crossed arms and a pointed look to the bag in Steve’s hands. 

Steve looks back at her, and they seem to have a conversation comprised entirely of eyebrows, facial ticks, and annoyed huffs. After a minute, Steve faces him again with a darker blush and downcast eyes. 

“I, uh, have something for you, too,” he mumbles sheepishly. Then he reaches into the bag and pulls out a box of chocolates not dissimilar to the one Bucky had just handed him. This one has a cute little card with Bucky written in a pretty cursive script. “There are, um.” Steve stops, shakes his head, and starts again. “I like you too, Bucky. Love you. I have for a long time, I think. Just ... took me a while to realize it.” He says it quickly and still won’t make eye contact, staring instead at a fascinating spot on the carpet.

Bucky can feel his heart rate spiking. Is this really happening? Not only is Steve not storming out, but he’s actually saying it back? He’s so busy focusing on not hyperventilating, he doesn’t realize Sam is pushing Steve closer toward him until he’s staring at the freckle on Steve’s cheek, their chests almost touching.

“Just kiss him already, man,” Sam says, chuckling. 

Bucky thinks he’s the first one to move, but really it could have been Steve. Their lips meet and, as cliche as it sounds, Bucky feels electricity race through him. His whole body flushes as his heart rate skyrockets. One of Steve’s hands grasps at his shirt while the other finds its way to his nape, fingers pushing into his hair. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and runs his tongue against his lips. When Steve lets him in, Bucky nips at his lower lip before curling his tongue into his mouth. Out of all the memories he could have gotten back, Bucky’s so happy he remembers how to kiss someone and make their knees weak. Sure enough, Steve lets out a soft moan into his mouth and tries to press even tighter against Bucky. 

Over the sound of his heartbeat, Bucky hears Nat say, “I would suggest we leave, but Fury’s coming to this meeting, and I don’t think he’d like to walk in on that.” 

As the words register, Bucky knows she’s right. He reluctantly slows the kiss until he’s just pressing little pecks against Steve’s lips. They’re both smiling like idiots in love. Which, Bucky thinks with a smile, they are. He can’t bring himself to turn away from Steve’s face, but he sees Sam hand Nat a ten-dollar bill out of the corner of his eye. 

#not entirely happy with this but it's cute so we'll go with it! #I changed the ending from 'i panicked' to something that didn't inspire me to write a panic attack so now it's fluffy all the way through #hope you like it! #drabble #stucky #steve/bucky #steve x bucky #stucky fanfic #my posts #prompts #ixalitwrites

[getthesamovarready]

First Sight

I just love this chapter honestly

also on ao3

Chapter 2: twist of fate

TK is sitting at the kitchen counter when he walks in the door. “Long night?” He asks, bringing his coffee to his lips. Owen cringes silently, shutting the door behind himself. He shouldn’t be coming home to his son trying to parent him, and his stomach rolls over in guilt. Immediately though, TK drops his frown, descending into a fit of laughter. “Glad to see you’re embracing your new surroundings Dad.” He stands from his stool, padding across the floor. “Don’t take too long getting ready, we have to be early today.” He pats him on the shoulder, making his way to the stairs. “Oh!” He calls, halfway up the stairs. “I really hope there doesn’t end up being a bunch of mini-Strands running around Texas.”

Owen pours himself a desperately needed coffee from the pot TK brewed, following him upstairs with a laugh. With the amount of times he caught TK sneaking home in the early hours, he supposes he should let his son enjoy this one. Even if it is a little humiliating.

He didn’t notice it this morning, but when he takes off his shirt he catches a whiff of perfume, and it shocks the breath right out of his chest. He can feel her hands on his chest, and his stomach twists as he tries to shake it off.

It takes a shower, and the familiar comfort of his skincare routine, to stop heart racing and memories of last night sending tingles down his spine. His hard work is undone, however when he starts to dress for work.

His work shirt is perfume-free, but still his fingers fumble with the buttons, unable to avoid thinking of unbuttoning the back of Michelle's dress last night. He screws his eyes shut, willing his shirt to cooperate with his hands.

When he makes his way downstairs he is flustered, and TK's casual leaning on the countertop doesn't help. "I thought I said not to take too long?" He smirks at him, glancing at the clock. An hour isn't too long, Owen thinks, but he doesn't respond. He just scowls at TK. "Oh wow." TK chuckles. "Must have been some night." He notes Owen's flush. "She really did a number on you didn't she?" He pushes himself off the counter to head to the door. "You sure you're fit to drive in that daze?" TK calls from the doorway, and Owen leaves indents in his fingers as he squeezes the keys in his fist.

Xx

Knocking on Dustin's door probably wasn't what Owen had in mind when he suggested that she celebrate Iris's birthday. He definitely wasn't suggesting that she slam at it, and scream until he called the cops. But that's what she did. And she actually feels a little better, kicking his house. She feels a little of her tension dissipate.

So she doesn't even feel that guilty when Carlos's squad car pulls up. She even nearly smiles when she greets him. She doesn't feel the usual guilt when he has to handcuff her.

She doesn't smile, however, when he pauses. And her chest tightens when he coughs. "What's that?" He asks her, and she whips her head around to question him. He's staring right at the back of her shoulder.

She flushes instantly, remembering Owen unbuttoning her dress, kissing her neck, his teeth dipping lower to nip at her shoulder. She turns her head forward again, determined not to answer Carlos's question.

"Michelle…" She huffs, desperately wishing she could tug her sweater to cover the bruise. "Do you have a hickey on your neck?"

"So what if I do?" She snaps. She's a grown woman, what's it to him what she does anyway? She starts to walk towards the car, Carlos close behind.

"I just...you didn't tell me you were seeing anybody." There is a hint of disappointment in his voice, and she realises that maybe she's been more distant than she thought recently, if he really thinks she could hide something like that.

"I'm not." She tells him when he opens the door, and her stomach twists at the look on his face.

"So who?" He starts to ask, closing the door behind her and slipping into the front of the car. "So who was that?" He points at his own neck, concern lacing his voice.

"A guy." She mumbles.

"A guy? Just some random guy?"

She sighs. "I met him at the Honky Tonk last night." This is honestly way more humiliating than the handcuffs around her wrists.

"Last night? You let some guy you don't know do that?" He's eyeing her through the rear-view, and she squirms. "I'm assuming you did more than just…" He huffs out a sigh, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "You let some random guy you don't know take you home?"

"Actually… I took him home." It gets exactly the reaction she expected.

"Michelle!" He groans. "What the hell? You let a stranger into your house? He could have been a murderer! Or like… robbed you? What's wrong with you?"

"Not everyone is a criminal Carlos." She groans. "Some people are normal!"

"Says the woman I just arrested for violating a restraining order for the fifteenth time!" She slumps back in her seat. He has a point, and it's not the first time he's tried to convince her that maybe Dustin might be innocent.

"If you people would do your jobs I wouldn't have to violate any orders, because you would have found out what happened." She snaps back. "It's her birthday Carlos, I can't just let her go on her birthday."

"We're not gonna have any new birthdays to celebrate anytime soon are we?" She struggles for a moment over his question, wondering what on earth he could possibly mean.

"Oh my God, Carlos!" She scoffs. "I'm not a total idiot."

"I just had to be sure." He eyes her again through the mirror.

"Whenever you want to stop being my father and start being my friend, just tell me." She glances out the window. "Hey, I start work in twenty, can you just drop me there?"

"Michelle, I'm not an Uber." He chuckles.

"I wasn't gonna tip." She smirks at him, chuckling when he takes the turn for the firehouse. "He was lovely, by the way. Not even a little bit murdery."

Carlos, back to being her friend again, laughs at her. "Good."

"You know," she leans forward. "Normal friends, when their friend has sex for the first time in a very long time, are happy for their friends."

"It's not that I'm not happy for you, Chica." He taps his hands against the steering wheel. "It's just...not like you. And you've made some...questionable decisions recently." She isn't sure if he's talking about Billy or...everything else in her life. But she wouldn't call Billy 'recent', so she assumes he's talking about the multiple arrests in the last few years, and everything else since Iris went missing. "It just feels very… new-Michelle."

"I know." She mumbles behind him. It is very new-Michelle. She'd had this very problem last night. "He was really nice though." She smiles, blushing as she thinks of how sweet he was about her little freakout. "He was really nice to talk to."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did lots of talking." Carlos scoffs, smirking.

"We did, actually. We talked a lot."

"So what does he do?" Carlos asks casually, and she flushes.

"I don't know."

"What's his name?"

"Owen...something. " He eyes her suspiciously.

"You talked to this guy, a lot. You took him home with you. And you don't know what he does? Or who he is?" Her cheeks are absolutely burning. "I don't even have a last name to find out about him! How are you supposed to show him to me? How could you have sex with someone and not let me know what he looks like?"

"It didn't seem important." She defends, omitting the fact that it seemed important to her not to know any of these things last night. "I'm sorry that I can't show him to you. He was quite something." She grins.

"Just his looks? Or?" He doesn't finish his question, and she giggles slightly when she finishes it for him in her head.

"Not just his looks." She sends a wink through the mirror, and he nods approvingly. She smiles out the window, the tension from Carlos's initial questioning gone completely.

He lets her off at the firehouse, with yet another warning. "Don't want you to make a bad impression on the new team." He tells her, unlocking the handcuffs. "Good luck today, Chica." He pulls her in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Come out for a drink with me after work?" She asks, pulling away. "I'll probably be taking the team out anyway, but it's Iris's birthday." She explains. "We should celebrate it."

"I'd love to." He squeezes her hand with a nod, turning to get back into the car.

It takes her a while to walk inside, and she's glad Carlos managed to drop her off early. It's quiet when she enters, and completely different to the last time she was here.

Nothing is the way it used to be, and she has to wander a bit before finding her office. She doesn't see a soul, and she can't help but wonder where they could all be. But she's not in uniform yet, and her shift starts in five minutes. So she finds the changing rooms, and she's just made it back downstairs to meet the team, when the alarm blares, and a group of unfamiliar people rush past her.

Tim and Nancy follow the group at a stroll, and smile weakly at her when she sees them. "You guys okay?" She asks, casting her eye over the new firehouse. The pair of them shrug. "You met them? What are they like?"

"They're nice." Tim shrugs, frowning slightly. "They're okay I guess."

"Captain Strand is more than okay." Nancy mumbles with a smile, squirming her eyebrows at Michelle. The pair of them chuckle, while Tim shakes his head.

“You guys okay? You ready for this?” She’s pretty sure she’s not ready for their first call out in six months, but still, she leads them to the ambulance, her hands shaking only a little when she reaches for the door handle. “If you’re not…” She can technically get dispatch to send another team. But that probably wouldn’t do any good.

But Tim and Nancy assure her that they are fine. Months out of the rhythm of things, has the three of them silent the whole drive there. Each of them rehearsing the motions in their heads.

Michelle thinks she's finally okay, that she's ready for her first call in months. Until she hears the Captain speak, and her stomach drops. "So we have some room to work." She catches, her stomach twisting itself into knots as she steals herself for the inevitable.

"You mean give us some room to work?" He spins around like a shot. "This scene belongs to us." She looks him in the eye only briefly, a warning for him to calm his obvious panic, before she brushes past him. She does her very best to hide hers, shoving it down as far as it will go before starts to direct Tim and Nancy.

"You must have missed the part where they made me the captain of the 126." It's suggestive, late-night, Owen, and she whips around, steeling her features.

"Michelle Blake, Paramedic Captain." She introduces herself coldly. "And this scene is medical, so I run the call."

"Woah, since when does EMS tell Fire what time it is?" She has to give it to him, he does a remarkable job pretending never to have met her before. Probably something to do with his newfound talent for getting on her nerves.

"Guess you didn't read the Travis County Manual, did you?" She presses, starting to get to work.

"I'm more of a … visual learner." She doesn't miss his eyes trailing over her, and she turns her head to catch him in the act.

"In Texas, EMS calls the shots involving medical emergencies." He has a hint of a smirk on his lips, and she can't help but snap at him. "So you do what I say, Captain." It's so unlike last night, and if she wasn't freaking out so much she would probably find it funny. He hides it well, but she can tell that Owen finds it hilarious.

She's good at her job. She always has been. She knows that she's impressive, but it's nice to have an audience, and this one is enthralled. They've obviously heard that the old 126 was in serious need of a re-haul, and probably didn't have high hopes for the remaining members. When she's finished, she looks back at Owen, and he's still watching her.

"Nice work, Captain." He smirks when she passes, following behind Tim and Nancy. "Impressive."

"Welcome to Texas, Captain." She winks. Immediately, she regrets it at the flush of his cheeks. And she's brought back to this morning, in her robe, letting him out of her house. She starts back on her way to the ambulance, blushing furiously.

Xx

He's in his office when she returns. He looks like he's deep in paperwork, she suspects the county manual, but almost as soon as she sees him he's out of his seat, making his way to her office. "Captain Michelle Blake." He stops in her doorway, leaning against it. "What a happy coincidence."

"This is not a happy coincidence." She huffs, dropping into her chair. "This." She gestures to him. "Is payback from God for my bad decisions." Of course she couldn't have a one night stand and move on with her life, of course there would be some kind of consequences.

"From God?" He chuckles. "I didn't think you were all that concerned about God, Michelle?" At least, not when that god wasn't Owen in the middle of the night.

"When things like this happen, I start to think maybe I should be." Carlos is going to have a field day with this.

"You say payback." He steps into her office fully. "I say fate." She can't help but smile, blushing softly. "Come on, it's like a movie. I think that if God had anything to do with it, he's giving us a sign." It is, it's exactly like some stupid romantic comedy.

"It's not a movie Owen." She sighs. "This can't be anything, you get that, right?" He doesn't seem to get it, his head cocking to the side with a hint of a pout. "Owen, we work together now. It would be a really bad idea." He looks like he disagrees, moving to sit on the edge of her desk.

"Okay." He sighs with a nod.

"No one can know about this. No one can even suspect." A smile springs on her lips unexpectedly. "So, if in future, you could avoid checking me out when I'm working, that would be a big help."

"Fine." He grins with a laugh, before sobering up quickly. "So, you okay? First day back?" If it hadn't started with such a shock, she would probably be less okay. But she nods silently. "I know the place is really different. I know that can be difficult…"

"I'll be fine, Owen." She assures him. She's actually a little bit glad the place looks so different. She had been worried about being assaulted with memories at every turn. But the place is bright, shiny, and new. "Thank you."

He nods softly, standing from the desk. Just when he reaches the doorway, he taps it with a sigh, turning around. "I should probably warn you." He bites his lip. "TK works here, he's on the team."

"TK?" Her eyes widen, and he turns again. "Your son TK?" And he's gone.

Xxx

When she gets back from their next call, there is a cupcake sitting on her desk. Owen, the only person she can think of who would do this, isn't in his office, so she can't immediately go berate him for doing something so sweet. So she approaches the offending cake, picking up the post-it that sits under it.

Couldn't get a candle quickly. For your sister. -O

She sets the cake aside, smiling at it every now and then, while she does her paperwork. She decides against indulging immediately. It's the only cake Iris is going to get, and it doesn't seem right to eat it on her own, at work.

Owen is in the kitchen when she emerges for a cup of coffee. "Captain Blake." He greets her casually. "How's your first day back?" His head tilts towards someone rummaging in the fridge. "TK whatever you're looking for isn't going to be there if you haven't found it already." His eyes dart over to her when she straightens her spine. He smirks at her, and she glares pointedly at him.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for Dad." TK admits, emerging from the fridge with a soda. "We really gotta work on the snacks in this place. And by that I mean I gotta do it, I don't trust you.  We need things like cookies, and chips."

"There's a bakery around the corner." They offer in unison, both of them immediately flushing and avoiding the other's eyes.

"It's great," Michelle continues, thinking about many an impromptu celebration catered by said bakery. "And they like us, might even do you a deal." They liked the old team anyway, but she's sure they'll warm to any member of the 126.

TK thanks her, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

"Way to not be suspicious." She laughs, almost going to nudge his arm, but thinking better of it at the last minute.

"He'll just think I've been sneaking around in secret eating illicit cookies." He brushes it off easily.

"Thank you, for the cupcake. It was really sweet of you." She blushes. "I really appreciate it."

"I told you to celebrate today." He shrugs. "I wanted to make sure you could."

"Speaking of celebrating." She starts, twisting her fingers. "I think we, the team I mean, should go out for a drink? After work?" When he starts to nod, she bites her lip nervously. "The thing is… we always went to the Honky Tonk after work." He stops nodding, twisting his lip awkwardly. "I think Tim and Nancy would like it if we did the same. And I told Chris last night I'd take the new team…"

"Sure."

"Sure? That's okay? It won't be weird?"

"Of course it'll be weird." He scoffs. "It's fine though, tell the team." She nods, starting to walk away, when he stops her. "I uh...I just wanted to ask. I left my number, on your bedside table. If I didn't work here...would you have called it?"

Her answer is easy, and it twists in her stomach. "Yes."

#michelle blake #Owen Strand #owelle #michelle x owen #911 lonestar #owen is the sweetest in this fic honestly #he doesn't really deserve it #also im really trying not to let this be a captain strand rip-off so sorry if anyone thinks it is but i really hope it doesnt seem like that

[eponymiad]

Queen’s Thief Appreciation Day Four: An AU (this is a country western AU. Drag me for it, if you must. I deserve it. But it has been a JOY to write). 

Irene's friends drag her out to a country western bar. She's less than thrilled to be there. Helen's obnoxious cousin, on the other hand, is thrilled.

*

Irene can’t believe her friends tricked her into a night out at this godforsaken country western bar again. She’s leaning against a wall in the darkest, emptiest corner of the bar and she’s— well, she’s painfully aware of what a TV stereotype she looks like, brooding in a corner, sipping her double whiskey and glowering at the crowded dance floor. She’s not going to pretend otherwise.

She’s still annoyed when her brooding is interrupted.

“Those are really cool earrings.”

She jumps at the sudden voice in her ear, close and loud enough to be heard over the music. Irene turns to look at the guy, who looks pleased to have gotten a reaction. How the hell hadn’t she seen him walk up?

Irene knows him, but can’t seem to place him. He’s got warm, brown skin; dark, curly hair, and... Oh. He only has one hand.

Helen’s cousin.

Irene can’t remember his name— something old-school, maybe a family name? Or religious?— even though they’ve met a few times, at bars and parties. He’s much younger, and from what she can remember, immature and desperate for attention.

Clearly that hasn’t changed. He’s managed to take the western theme entirely too seriously. He’s in a Nudie suit — dear gods, did he own this already? — embroidered with erupting volcanoes, some men sword-fighting, and what looks, inexplicably, like elephants. His brown leather cowboy boots have matching gold accents, and his double ear piercing includes a thin gold hoop and what looks like a carved sapphire stud. The entire outfit is ridiculously over the top.

Much to Irene’s irritation, it actually works.

“What?” she says. She’s distracted.

“Your earrings — they’re really cool,” he repeats.

Her hand flies up to the golden bees dangling from her ears. They’re her favorite earrings, inherited from her mother. She wouldn’t have worn them tonight if she had known she’d be coming here. “Thank you.”

He smiles at her, warm and friendly, if a little awkward. “Gen, by the way,” he says loudly, talking over the noise. “I know we’ve met but, well.” He gestures at the loud, drunken space around them as if that explains why he expected her to have forgotten him.

It probably does.

“Irene.”

“I remember,” he says with another warm smile. It tugs at something in her chest.  

“But really, what’re you doing wearing those earrings here? Those are the nicest things this bar has ever seen,” he says.

She gives his Nudie suit a once over.

“Well,” Eugenides says, with a thoughtful head tilt. “Maybe tied for the nicest thing.”

“Mmm,” she says, and half-turns back to look at the dance floor, worrying one of her earrings between her thumb and forefinger. “I thought we were going to dinner.”

From the corner of her eye, Irene can see he brightens, though she can’t imagine why.

“Well, you’d have to ask me out first, but I’d say your chances are pretty good.”

Her single raised eyebrow belies the hitch in her breath she manages to hide. That was obnoxiously smooth.

“I’m going to dance,” he says, left hand — only hand — palm up, tilted slightly toward her in offering. “Join me?”

She looks at him. “No.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. It was nice talking to you, Irene,” he says, and waltzes off to the dance floor. Within seconds, he’s found someone else to dance with.

*

Irene is leaning against the bar, a fresh drink in her hand, when the music shifts to something upbeat and familiar. Oh — apparently they’ve moved on to the line dancing part of the night.

She’s watching the drunken crowd dance to “Cotton-Eye Joe” when she spots Gen. He’s front and center, dancing in a group, and somehow, inexplicably…he’s good.

A line dance to “Cotton-Eyed Joe” isn’t supposed to be something anyone is good at — it’s a dance they teach five-year-olds in PE. It doesn’t involve any actual skill.

Except apparently it does. Gen is moving with a practiced grace that shouldn’t be allowed at a country western bar. He’s dancing in time with Helen and five or six other people who look as though they could be relatives . Irene wonders if they’re one of those families — it happens sometimes, a group shows up who is so good it blows everyone else in the room out of the water.

Irene can’t stop watching them.

Eugenides looks over at the bar and catches her eye. She still can’t bring herself to look away. He gives her a giant, toothy grin and, without ever looking at his dance partners, slips his right arm over one man’s shoulder, his left arm around a woman’s waist, and together they lift two women off the ground for a spin.

*

“Red wine, please. And a cup of water?”

Gen has appeared at her side again, fresh off the dance floor, face sweaty and hair a little wild.  

The bartender looks back at him funny. Gen tilts his head, feigning ignorance. Irene snorts. Gen doesn’t turn, but she sees a tiny upward tilt at the corner of his mouth.

The bartender rolls his eyes and pours the wine without any more fuss. Gen’s smile is victorious when the other man looks away.

Drinks in hand, Gen turns toward her. “Having fun?”

“Definitely,” she says, sarcastically. “Nothing more fun than fending off drunk assholes at a bar.”

Eugenides wrinkles his nose. “Well, I’m not that drunk. But point taken,” he says, with a nod, and starts to leave.

Ah, shit.

“No,” she says, with a quick hand on his elbow. He freezes. “I meant— Not you.”

“Ah,” is all he says, and takes a sip of his wine. “Why’re you here, then? Aside from admiring my dance moves.”

She gestures at the throng of people. “Got dragged out by friends. If I leave, they’ll just make me go out next weekend. If I stand here and drink my whiskey while they dance with drunk strangers, it buys me another two months.” She shrugs.  

Gen smiles. “Do you want to get some air?” he says, and gestures at the exit with his right arm.

Irene debates. She doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression — she knows what men are like. One yes and suddenly they think they’re entitled to positive answers the rest of the night. Alternatively, he seems marginally less drunk than everyone else who has approached her, and it’ll get her away from the guy who’s been leering at her across the bar for 20 minutes now.

“Sure,” she says, and heads toward the door without waiting to see if he follows.

*

Of course he follows.

Outside, where the din from the club is distant, they have a real conversation. He lives up in the mountains, and hates horses, and asks for the story behind her earrings. She tells him about the vintage jewelry collection her mom left behind, and about running her dad’s company.

“What do you do? Or are you still in school or...?”

Eugenides laughs.”I’m a computer hacker, basically. But an ethical one,” he assures her.

“What does that even mean?”

“Companies pay me to break into their systems and expose security threats. It’s fun,” he says, and waggles his eyebrows a little. Irene laughs despite herself.

They chat some more, but eventually there’s a lull in the conversation that neither of them seem to know how to fill. She’s swirling the ice in her glass idly, fighting her desperation to be home with a reluctance to end the conversation.

“Do you want another drink?” Gen says tentatively, like maybe he thought she was angling for him to buy her one.

“No, I think I’m going to head home,” she says, because the...everything is getting to her, the concentration of stimulus and emotions making her skin itch,

“Oh, okay,” he says, and he definitely sounds disappointed. Which, again, is the problem with ever telling men yes.

“I need to close out my tab though,” she says. He nods, and makes his way toward the door.

*

The dancing looks fun. It always looks fun. It’s the actual act of dancing that’s less than enjoyable. Crowded dance floors, strangers trying to touch you, people watching…

Irene wishes — though she’ll rarely even admit it to herself — that she could dance with the carefree abandon she’s seen people like Eugenides relish in her entire life. Unfortunately, she wasn’t afforded that luxury.

Irene is eying people on the dance floor while she waits for the bartender to finish up with someone else. She sees Eugenides watching her in her periphery. She looks at him. Gone is the shy kid from two minutes ago. The sly smile is back. It’s like he can see through her; it’s unnerving.

“Irene...do you want to dance?”

She hesitates, but just for a second. Fuck it.

Gen looks delighted.

He leads her out to the dance floor. The song switches just as they find an empty spot, and Irene freezes. She’s not going to do a fucking square dance, and she’s certainly not going to do it with him. Gen might have a modified choreography with his relatives, but that doesn’t mean he can manage to dance one-handed with a woman who barely knows the steps. She’s awful at following dances she doesn’t already know. She’s going to fuck this up and embarass them both.  

Somehow, Gen picks up on her exact freakout. He shakes his head. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve got you. Just reach for me like you’re expecting my right hand, but I only use my left.”  

And he does.

Irene is fairly certain she wouldn’t be able to explain, even in an hour, how the hell Gen does it, but she makes it through the entire dance without messing up a single time. It’s entirely thanks to him.

It’s also...very fun.

She’s not sure how long they’ve been dancing, but Gen is spinning her every few seconds to something carefree and upbeat, her hair slipping out of her bun, when a very large man puts an arm on Eugenides’s shoulder to get his attention. Irene recognizes him from earlier — she’s fairly certain he’s one of the cousins.

“Gen,” says the man, with an accent so heavy she can hear it from the first word. “We have to go.”

Gen looks at his cousin sharply. “Why?”

“Boagus,” the man says with a heavy eye roll. “Got into a fight outside.”

Gen narrows his eyes up at the man, but eventually shakes his head in resignation.

The tall man looks from Irene to Eugenides. “I’ll meet you outside,” he says over the music, and walks off.

Eugenides turns to her. “What luck you have,” he says, and his smile is back to shy. He hesitates for a second.

Irene wants to say something — though she has no idea what — and she’s probably being ridiculous — when Gen leans forward just enough for her to realize what he’s going to do. He pauses, and gives her time to pull away. Instead, she can feel herself swaying toward him just enough that he takes it as invitation to close the gap.

He has his hand on her jaw, angling her face down toward his just a little. The kiss is far too soft and sweet for the middle of a sweaty dance floor, surrounded by drunken fools and loud, pounding music.

It’s a really nice kiss.

When he pulls away, he grins at her, a full-faced thing that makes his eyes twinkle.

“Bye,” he says, with a quick wave, and he’s gone.  

What the fuck was that?

*

Irene kicks off her kitten heels and dumps her purse on her silver entryway table the second she’s through the door.

This was a weird night, and she’s so relieved to be home she could cry. Her skin is still prickling from the kiss-and-dash, and all she wants to do is scrub the night off of her with a hot shower.

She gets the water running, and doubles back for her phone while it heats up. Maybe she’ll put on some music — ABBA or Beirut or literally anything but country music.

She flips open her crossbody bag, and sees a folded napkin she definitely didn’t put in there. Opening it, she recognizes the horse and lilies from the bar’s logo. Scribbled in terrible handwriting just below it is a name and number—

Gen

471-288-6547

*

Find it on AO3 here! 

My ETERNAL, undying love to @helvetica-upstart for the life-changing betas. 

#qtappreciationweek #I take full responsibility for my actions bUT ALAS THE FATES WANT WHAT THEY WANT #queen's thief #queen’s thief #these disaster humans y'all #BUT THEY'RE VERY CUTE AND THEY LIKE EACH OTHER A LOT OKAY?

[dust2dust34]

Kale Chips (Olicity, S4, M)

A/N: A prompt request from @novelsandnerdiness​ for the Fic for Food Drive! The prompt was canon Olicity and “Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.” I had the idea to put this in Season 3.5, but I liked it in S4 oh so much better.

Summary: Set between 4x06 and 4x07. Oliver and Felicity steal a weekend to reconnect. Leaving the loft to Donna, they book a little house on the outskirts of town where Oliver plans to make her… kale chips?

(read on AO3)

She stuck her tongue out, for concentration. And balance. And sneakiness.

This hadn’t been the plan. She had come in here to start some coffee for after her shower.

And the universe just sort of handed her the opportunity.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was still in the bedroom, Felicity climbed up onto the counter next to the bags of kale she had pulled out.

They’d run into a farmer’s market on the way to the rental house she found last minute. She had been excited, because Oliver’s best recipes came to him when they perused a market, his mind whipping out random bits and pieces of food knowledge she could not - and would not - understand. But he did. It had been hectic, to say the least, since coming back to Starling City - no, Star City. He hadn’t stopped cooking, but she missed those lazy Saturdays he spent fussing around the kitchen, trying new things, asking her to taste, and not just because he might have ruined something, but because everything he touched was culinary heaven.

It was one of the few things she missed about Ivy Town. She didn’t miss Ivy Town itself, but they had been different there. Oliver had been different. She didn’t regret coming back to Star City, and she couldn’t, not even if she tried. They needed the work they did, both of them, for different reasons.

But now they just needed to find a way to keep the them they had found in Ivy Town too.

Hence why they were at this little vacation house.

Especially after her not-so-small freakout on him. About their relationship, and her place in it.

So yes, she had really been looking forward to stopping at the farmer’s market, to watching him work, to going back to simpler times.

Up until Oliver said the words “kale chips.”

Right to her face.

“Not on my watch,” Felicity mumbled, maneuvering up onto the kitchen counter.

It was harder being totally naked. She was vividly aware of her bare ass sticking out in the air as she balanced on her knees. But it was worth it. Felicity inched to the left a bit so she could open the cupboard. There. Large bowls sat in a neat row on the top shelf, just perfect for stashing things behind. A trickle of guilt hit her as she started stuffing crinkling bags of kale behind the bowls, but then she remembered kale chips.

“Ugh.”

And she was leaving one bag behind - she wasn’t a total monster. There were oh so many better things he could make with a little bit of kale versus a metric ton of it for kale chips.

“There are just some things olive oil and spices can’t fix-”

“What are you doing?”

She stopped mid-motion, the last bag in her hand. “Uh… Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Oliver repeated slowly, his voice low and rough like it always was after he just woke up. She glanced back to find him stepping up behind her, boxer briefs low on his hips, hair skewed, a crease slanting over his cheek from the pillowcase. He looked sexy and gorgeous and rumpled… and annoyed. No, not annoyed. Confused. Maybe even a tiny dash of amusement. He definitely wasn’t pleased, that was for sure. He cocked an eyebrow at the bag in her hand. “Because it looks like you’re hiding kale in the cupboard.”

“Safe-keeping,” she blurted.

“You’re safe-keeping kale in the cupboard?”

Felicity grimaced. “I’m sleepwalking?” she offered. Nope, that sounded worse. And yet… “I mean, that would definitely explain the sight of your crazy naked girlfriend on the counter hiding a bunch of kale, wouldn’t it? That sounds way more reasonable and logical and that is exactly what is happening. No? Okay, well, that’s because this is a dream.”

“A dream?”

“Yep.” She turned to finish her task. “That’s exactly what this is. You’re dreaming-”

Warm hands grasped her bare waist and then he was lifting her off the counter.

She gasped. “Oliver-”

“This feels very real to me,” he grunted and somehow he had her turned around in his arms and tossed over his shoulder. Something primal fluttered in her stomach at the blatant display of strength, but Felicity still sputtered as she found herself face-to-face with the elaborate burn scar across his lower back. He grasped one of her ass cheeks as he walked back to the bedroom. “Oh, that’s very real.”

“Oliver!”

He tossed her onto the unmade bed. The bag of kale she still held flew free, sending the leafy vegetable scattering across the sheets. He climbed on top of her, using his bulk to nail her to the mattress. She moved to touch him in a small act of placation, but he grabbed her hands before she could and pinned them next to her head.

“Oliver-”

“What were you doing, Felicity?” he asked. Slowly. Decisively.

Sexily.

“I, uh, was…”

“Felicity,” Oliver whispered with a sexy rise of his eyebrow. “Talk to me.”

She was suddenly very aware of the hard press of his body against hers. Those thin boxer briefs did nothing to hide the bulge pressing against her thigh, and the sleepy look on his face in conjunction with dragging her name out really didn’t do her any favors. In fact, all the favor was for him as she found herself melting under his interrogation.

“Hmm?” he prompted as he dipped down and nipped at her jawline.

His breath razed over the tender skin of her neck, and then his lips were there, licking, nipping, teasing, finding her pulsepoint before working up to her ear. He sucked her lobe between his lips, his teeth making her shudder. Her nipples beaded and she arched her back, the pearled buds scraping over his scarred chest. He hummed his approval and sucked harder. Sensation washed through her and all she could manage was a little inquisitive hum.

“What were you doing?” he whispered into her ear, his tongue tracing the shell.

More noises. Sounds. Grunts. Whispers. She had no idea.

“Were you hiding the kale from me?”

Something unintelligible fell out of her.

“Felicity.”

“I… was, uh…”

He kissed his way over her cheekbone, her nose, her other cheek, down her jaw. His lips grazed over the corner of her mouth and she tried to turn to capture his lips with hers, but he evaded her. Felicity frowned as he kissed down her chin, then up… She tried to kiss him again, but he moved out of the way before she could. Something akin to begging was on her lips as she tugged on her hands where he held her fastened to the bed, but he didn’t let her go. And when she tried to capture his lips again, he moved away. Again.

“Kiss me,” she breathed.

“No.”

“Oliver.”

“What were you doing?”

The question was too confusing for her brain to process just then. Instead she lifted her head up off the bed to find his lips. All she got, though, was a sloppy, wet smack of her open mouth against his chin and then he was pulling away from her.

Felicity growled. “Kiss me-”

“Nope.” He dragged his lips along her jaw. Teasing her. Just when it was getting good, when he started sucking at the sensitive spot at the base of her jaw, he pulled back. “No more kisses.”

“Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me-”

“Then tell me what you were doing.”

“I…” Felicity huffed. “I don’t like kale chips.”

He smirked. He actually smirked. “And?”

“And? What do you mean ‘and’?”

“I know you don’t like kale chips,” he said with a grin. “I was teasing you yesterday. I was going to make that kale pesto pizza tonight and then use the rest in a parmesan casserole tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said lamely, her face heating.

Oliver chuckled. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice all that kale missing?”

“I hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead,” Felicity admitted and he laughed. “I guess I should leave the ideas to when I’m caffeinated, huh?”

“Probably a good idea,” he replied. He let go of her to frame her head with his hands. Felicity immediately wound her arms around his shoulders, snuggling in as he pushed his fingers into her hair. “Hey.”

“Hmm?” she hummed.

“As much as I loved the view when I walked into the kitchen,” he said and she flushed, “next time, just talk to me.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, running her fingers down the side of his face.

“Whatever it is,” Oliver continued, brushing hair off her temples, “we’ll get through it.”

Felicity stared into his eyes. He wasn’t talking about the kale, and they both knew it. They had mended the rift that had inexplicably opened up between them - the rift she had sort of made herself - but she could still see the lingering hurt and confusion that he’d fallen into the more she had pushed him away. She had done some damage here… and she’d just made it worse by hiding freaking kale instead of just telling him she didn’t like kale chips. Or talking about it to discover that he already knew.

“No more hiding,” Felicity said. “No more secrets. Of the kale variety, or of the this-is-freaking-me-out-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-talk-about-it variety.”

“Or of the hiding-it-for-your-own-good variety, like pretending there wasn’t email in Bali.”

Felicity grimaced. “I’m horrible.”

Oliver dropped a kiss on her nose. “You’re not horrible. You had good intentions.”

“I promise to talk to you,” she vowed.

“And I promise to talk to you,” he replied.

They shared a soft kiss.

And then Oliver shoved his hands underneath her with a grunted, “Hold on,” before hauling her up off the bed. She let out a little squeak, her insides warming as his muscles rippled under her hands. “Let’s hope you didn’t waste all the hot water during your kale thievery.”

“Oliver.”

He paused in the bathroom doorway, holding her close as he looked up at her.

Felicity sifted her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled and he tilted his head up. She read him loud and clear and pressed her lips to his. When he pulled back, he winked at her. “Shower sex and we’re good.”

“Oh, I think I can accommodate that.”

“And then you have to eat some kale chips.”

“Ew, no!”

His laughter - that rare, beautiful, gorgeous laughter that always made her heart clench, that she vowed to do everything she could to always hear it, including facing her own demons - echoed through the bathroom as they once again found each other.

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #arrow fic #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow #fanfiction #my fics #my fics: season 4 #dust2dust34

[fogsrollingin]

Title: in this house, ch 2 Author: fogsrollingin Fandom: Supernatural Story details: Sam & Dean, rated PG-13, 2k words. Summary: getting out of this house. My next entry for @whumptober2020! Prompts filled are no. 14 brand & no. 15 magical healing & no.31 torture A/N: all my amazing readers who let me know they wanted more of this story (when I’d planned it to just be a very intense one-shot, here we gooooo! 😆 Chapter 1 on Tumblr || Full story available on AO3 || Fanfiction.net too || INCREDIBLE art inspired by this fic: Hurt Sam by @midnightsilver on tumblr, uncensored version on pillowfort and now also on AO3!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ in this house ch2 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Furniture crashed overhead, Dean's team of hunters fighting, feet pounding over the floorboards, the sounds of screaming, hissing vampires. Sometimes their sounds would stop abruptly, then a heavy thunk to indicate their decapitated melons had just hit the floor and it was like music to Dean's ears. Macabre as it may be, it was a dream come true right now as he huddled in this cage with his brother shaking and clinging to him out of his mind with fear.

Sam had cleared up enough to say his name though. That was a start. Dean thought about their next moves. Or tried to. He blinked his eyes, shook his head, summoning the wherewithal to get brain's gears back online.

Damn it, you planned for this! Dean scolded himself. The harder he focused, the stronger this rushing feeling bubbled out overwhelming him, filling his senses up with cotton and getting him too jittery to think straight.

"Fuck," Dean muttered, hauling his shivering, traumatized little brother up against him closer. Sam went with it. Dean ducked his own head into his brother's disgusting hair. They were wasting time. He kept telling himself that to spur himself into action but... there were so many things, so many ways Dean could help Sam and as he ran down the mental list of them he just didn't know which came first.

Dean didn't know how long they stayed like that hugging each other in the cage like they weren't free, like Dean had simply joined his brother enslaved inside. It felt like a purgatory Dean could live with. After everything they'd been through, to just be together even in that cage was enough.

"Hey, okay guys," a low voice smoothed over them. Sam didn't react but Dean recognized Mallory's voice. She was a medic turned hunter that'd arrived last week with her friend, Gerald. She hovered over the cage's door.

She moved and Dean couldn't see, her dark brown skin and black outfit perfect camouflage. "Don't!" Dean begged. Sam scuttled closer. Dean didn't know what he was begging for. Don't come into the cage? Don't shatter this moment? Don't you touch him?

Thundering steps of so many people erupted behind her. Sam yelped and Dean grunted, clutching Sam back.

"Stop!" Mallory ordered and the feet coming down the stairs did as they were told. Dean heard some jubilance in their tones, wanting to clear the basement of these blood suckers and high five Dean. Instead Mallory's voice rang out crystal clear. "Go clear the rest of the house. Burn the bodies out back. I want Gerald down here though. Gerald?"

"Yeah, here," a man replied softly, an easy gait stepping down the stairs past the others who'd started making their way back up. He appeared next to Mallory and crouched down with her to talk. His skin was a little lighter than hers' so Dean could make him out in the dark better. He was biting his nails looking at them, brows furrowed with worry.

"I'd like you to stay down here. Make sure no one's in the other cages."

"You got it," he murmured softly. He got up slowly in deference, it seemed, and moved away.

"All right. Dean?" Mallory asked.

"Y-yeah," Dean gruffed from the human ball they'd made, the two of them curled around each other so tight now. Dean didn't want it to end but somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminding himself that Mallory and Gerald were the best, his favorites. He couldn't remember exactly why. His brain was fried right now but he responded to her voice.

Something slid into the cage out of the corner of his eye, Mallory pushing his backpack inside within reach of him. The first aid kit was in there, a water bottle, some of Sam's clothes, hot chemical packs, an emergency blanket. Dean had packed everything he could think of.

"Do you want me to come in?" Mallory asked evenly.

Dean stared at the backpack and shook his head.

"Can I walk you through this?"

Dean's face screwed up and he let out a sob. He nodded though.

"Okay Dean, it's okay. You're doing great. You've got your brother. He's safe now. You're gonna take care of him. You two will be home eating takeout at a shitty motel in no time," she lied with so much charm and Dean was nodding in agreement, engaged, growing more and more aware.

"Now what you gotta do first is lay Sam down and examine him, Dean. You gotta know how hurt he is. Cuts, bruises, broken bones, come on Dean, you gotta see."

Dean nodded to Mallory, his face still buried in Sam's hair. "Okay, okay Sammy, you ready?"

Sam shuddered but let Dean gently pry him free until he was sitting. Dean wasn't going to make him lie down.

"Sam, where does it hurt?" Dean asked stiffly. Mallory waited behind him patiently and he felt better she wasn't pressuring him. Dean might have had a minor freakout just now but he still had the last say on how to handle his brother. 

Sam shivered and shook. "It doesn't."

"What?"

"Hungry."

Dean heard Mallory scrambling at the backpack, the sound of little pretzel bags crinkling before one landed next to Sam's feet. Sam grabbed it and tore into it.

A rolling sound and Dean turned to see Mallory had pushed the water bottle to tumble its way to them. Dean grabbed it and put it within Sam's reach.

"Sam... can I take a look at you?" Dean asked hesitantly as Sam wolfed down the last of the pretzels. Mallory threw another one and without acknowledging her Sam pounced on the second helping.

"They'd heal me. After the torture. Magic." He spoke quietly between crumbly breaths. "Except here." He twisted and lifted his leg to show his right thigh.

Dean tilted his head to see, Mallory squinted and leaned forward.

Dean swore. Mallory gasped.

"Sammy what the fuck is that?"

"It's a brand," Sam replied wetly.

Gerald came back just then, his steps silent and graceful. "Nobody."

Mallory took Gerald's hand and squeezed. "Could you tell the others to go? These two-"

"I understand. I'll tell 'em," Gerald whispered. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything." He squeezed her hand back and made his way.

Dean turned back to his brother. "Sammy, can I-?" he asked as he moved in to look at the wound again. Sam nodded and leaned against the cage wall for balance as Dean lifted his right knee up to see again. If Sam was embarrassed by Dean's proximity to his twig and berries he didn't show it. He'd slowed his snacking, interspersing pretzel bites with gulps from the water bottle. He seemed dazed, but it was a definite level up from what he'd been before.

Dean ducked and examined Sammy's leg. He clenched his jaw so as not to disturb whatever shell-shocked peace Sam was in right now but damned if he didn't want to curse up a storm right now.

All Sam's leg hair had been burned off, in its place deep carvings in a design Dean couldn't even begin to make out with so much scabbing and swollen skin marring it. All the cuts had needed stitches but instead they'd been reopened repeatedly. It was red, moist with pus, clearly infected.

Dean set Sam's leg down and felt his forehead. He glanced back at Mallory. "He needs antibiotics."

"He need a hospital?"

Dean got himself up into a kneel, put his hands on his knees and stared at his voracious brother chowing down on a fourth packet (if he'd kept count correctly) of pretzels. "No. No I can take him, I think."

Mallory scooted in and Dean let her. She was holding a huge white square of gauze the size of his hand. There were ugly brown lines glazed on it where she'd applied the antiseptic. Dean looked at her for a second. She looked up and understood what he needed.

"We're gonna bandage the injury so we can get him dressed. And then we're gonna get him out of this cage and then we're gonna move him out of this house."

Dean's eyes watered and he nodded. She gave him the medical tape.

"Okay, okay, okay," Dean muttered to himself, getting into position. "Sammy, you ready?"

"Yeah."

Dean pressed the bandage gently along Sam's flayed flesh and Sam only whimpered once, breathed heavily through the rest of it as Dean taped. Dean knew it meant his pain tolerance had heightened. The heavy weight of that knowledge settled sick in his stomach. It would never go away. "So good, good job Sammy, so brave, you got this," Dean babbled, not paying attention to what he was even saying anymore.

The instant he was done, Mallory handed him Sam's black cotton sweatpants he'd brought and he helped Sam into them. Next was a plain white t-shirt. Sam moaned and reached for Dean a couple times. He'd fall against his chest for a break to catch his breath and Dean would hold him through it, rub his back, tell him he smelled awful.

They scooted Sam out of the cage, taking care not to jostle him. Dean felt lighter as they crossed the threshold, the repulsive air of a torture dungeon still somehow fresher now they were out of that godforsaken cage.

"Gonna have this thing melted down," Dean gruffed.

He got under Sam's arm, Mallory under the other, and together they counted to ten to lift Sam up so he could walk.

Sam groaned and weakly placed his feet flat on the floor, a valiant attempt to take some of his weight but they were lifting him too fast.

Mallory and Dean were softly congratulating him as he rose almost to full height. He gave them a strained smile before closing his eyes and passing out.

Dean's alarmed shouts for Sam to wake up again mingled with Mallory's yells for Gerald as they both struggled to give Sam a controlled fall.

Gerald pounded down the stairs and stopped at the tableau before him. Mallory out of breath and stressed as she refastened her pony tail with hands trembling with adrenaline. Dean hovered over his brother solicitously. The kid was clothed now which was a plus for Gerald, yet unconscious, a new minus.

"We need some muscle, sugar," Mallory explained. "Sam passed out."

Gerald came around and crouched down on Sam's other side across from Dean. "Well now I'm really happy you put clothes on the kid," he joked good-naturedly. Dean huffed. Gerald looked down. "So this is your little brother, huh?"

"Yep." Dean's chin quivered. He brushed Sam's hair off his face.

Gerald patted his back a few times. "C'mon, get it together."

Dean nodded, rubbed his face. "Right, okay, uh. We gotta do a two-person carry because he's injured. Back of his right thigh is fucked up."

"Got it."

Gerald got Sam's broad shoulders, Dean his brother's long legs, and together they tromped up the stairs.

"Should burn the whole house down," Gerald muttered as they hit the landing. Mallory followed up. She opened the emergency blanket and let it fall over Sam as Dean and Gerald carried him through the house. There were no bodies, no heads, only the blood stains in the grooved, pockmarked floorboards stood testament to the righteous slaughter carried out less than an hour ago.

"I couldn't agree more," Dean said as he watched Gerald fold into the backseat of the Impala, carrying Sam in with him. The emergency blanket crinkled and fell to the ground. As soon as Sam's butt cleared the seat, Dean set his feet down. He took Sam's shoulders and let Gerald get out through the other side.

"Wait," Sam whispered. Dean froze and looked down.

"Sam? Sammy? You with us?"

Sam's eyes rolled under his lids. He swallowed and nodded. "Wait."

"For what?"

"To burn it. I wanna..." Sam wheezed and coughed. "be there. For it."

A rush of relief slipped down Dean's spine and spread out, warming him.

"Damn straight, little brother. You'll throw the first match."

Sam chuckled thickly. "Yeah." His head fell onto Dean's shoulder, passed out again. Dean kept his arm around Sam even when he noticed the kid was drooling on him.

They were gonna be okay.

Fin

A/N: Marking this as complete again but hey who knows I might tack on another chapter - that branding is a mystery that might be worth exploring 👀😆

Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/kudos/reblog/vote/give to charity on my behalf (hahah) if you can spare the time

Happy Ides of October! 🎃🍂  xoxo ~ Alex.

#my fic #whumptober2020 #no.14 #branding #no.15 #magical healing #no. 31 #torture #supernatural #fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fic #supernatural fic #sam and dean #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester and dean winchester #dean winchester and sam winchester #dean winchester & sam winchester #sam winchester & dean winchester

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ upd8 2020-01-17

Alright, morningblogging yesterday’s 2020-01-17 upd8 to Homestuck^2 let’s go!  Spoiler-free again.  I kinda don’t want even the next chapter names image-spoiled above the cut anymore so I’m going to have to figure out WHAT to put above the cut in these liveblog posts for visual reinforcement... a unique silly icon?  Going back once I’m done with the upd8 and posting something non-spoilery but weird-looking out of context?

Eh, can’t be assed.  Just know that after this I’m going to pony up for the Patreon commentary and skim it for anything plot-useful to y’all (in a separate post).  Let’s get started.

Okay, what’s next:  Any bonuses?  Oh, none!  Phew.  Unless those are coming faster too and just staggered differently, which would mean I gotta overcome my irrational pre-Homestuck-reading anxiety even MORE often.  :T

No Homestuck you don’t GET to ask how my-- ah, right.  :P

(FYI, HS^2 has been good to my emotions so far, quite a balm for the epilogues, so once I START reading I’m usually fine; but after being hurt so badly how could I possibly convince my lizard brain to trust it until it’s right in front of me?  Seriously, just hearing that the upd8 has landed messes me up a bit until I come fix it by reading w/ y’all here.)

Okay, so whose feelings?  As much as I’ve been waiting for Jade, I hope this isn’t about Jade.

> ==>

Ah fuck, we’re finally with the Pursuit Crew.  Bracing myself.  That means we get to see probably sleeping Jade ( :C ), full-swing DaveKat (approving nod), the first canon onscreen look at masculine-mode Roxy (<3), a probably pretty pissed off Kanaya (possibly either the feelings target, the one Saying How Are Your Feelings, or both), and uh... did they drag Callie along?  Or leave her back there with her meta freakout?  Probably left her back there, but... hm.

Let me turn up the brightness on this screen to sear these next pages into my retinas.  (Also, it feels odd to still be using a four-person “==>” for these, although if Jade is still asleep the numbers might fit on both ends... :c )

> ==>

I don’t think Dad is in the spacefaring business, so this is probably one of Jake’s shittier spaceship designs.

> ==>

...well that’s a touch disturbing.  Is that a Jade-occupied bed or are those just pillows?

Oh what the fresh fanfic’y heck is this command.

> i enter.

Okay that’s great.  I got a kick out of that.

JADE [in calliope red]: the prince’s power grows.

--but that’s not.  That explains the narrative command text, it’s alt!callie talking through a still conked-out Jade.  Please let her wake up between speak-throughs, please tell me you’ve learned that trick??  I already know you’re gonna pull an “oh she was asleep pretty much all of those THREE YEARS OF TRAVEL” thing on me and that’s hard fucking enough to deal with.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

He’s actually using the full curse correctly, huh?

...These commands.  Guess part of the puzzle is how much alt!Callie is being typically morbid and how much she might actually be wising up enough to get a kick out of this.

> the knight of blood falls.

DAVE: dude can you chill for like even a single fucking second DAVE: also are you ok

Has CallieJade chilled for even a single second this entire trip??  Is he asking just if Karkat’s okay or Jade too???

--yeah I’m overblowing things out of nervousness.  Just wait and see a bit, boots.

Alt!Callie has at least learned to be more of a smartass:

> karkat is characteristically appreciative of the alarm call.

Shirt trade Karkat, nice.  And uh, Jade’s dress sure is a... dress.  Hm.

(Did alt!Callie alchemize adjustments to did she just luck out to have a red-symbol’d Bec belt and accent leggings?  I’d prefer the former, because as much as it would be acceptable within Homestuck proper, using the transition between the epilogues and this new-author’d work to just HAPPEN to give her a fitting outfit without an excuse via providence is kind of lazy.)

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM! KARKAT: NEXT TIME I’LL JUST PULL THE COVERS BACK AND LET HER CLIMB IN! JADE: i am uninterested in that scenario. KARKAT: GREAT! POSSESSED JADE ISN’T EVEN HORNY! HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT?

...please let that mean he’s not used to her being possessed all the time and she wakes up sometimes.  PLEASE.

DAVE: but im pretty sure i locked that door JADE: i unlocked it with my mind. DAVE: fuck KARKAT: FANTASTIC. JADE: the prince’s powers are growing, but so are mine.

Dave, I’m pretty sure regular-ass no-Green-Sun Space powers can flip a few lock tumblers too.  (--though, I guess from context this was a Jakeship technolock.  Confirmation on the ship’s bad taste in design.  --I think I’m foggily remembering it said in the Epilogues that they took one of Jake’s ships just like Dirk did, too... man, being depressed so much by the Epilogues sure took a lot out of my ability to recall them decently.)

KARKAT: LIKE YOU DON’T FLOAT AROUND LIKE A CREEPY PIECE OF SHIT ALL DAY AS IT IS?

God DAMN IT she’s been asleep and possessed the whole fucking time.

> sleep is abandoned, coffee sought.

More obligatory DaveKat being cute, somehow only emphasized by the embarrassing glowing-with-power observer who doesn’t really get any of it.

Ah, here we go:

> the rogue is also awake.

Oh huh.  Cool!

Hero outfit, understated...  her his choice of heart-shades color-coded to stand out from Dave more to avoid further mistaken identity cases.  Works well!  (Holy shit I only JUST remembered at the end to go back and correctly gender Roxy as him, that was close. I blame the epilogues for a lack of visual reinforcement; I shouldn’t have as much trouble soon enough.  Seriously, I don’t remember ANYTHING without visual reinforcement, I think that’s why I remember so much of Homestuck proper so clearly.)

KARKAT: OH SHIT, THERE SHE IS! I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR HER FOLLOW US! ROXY: sometimes a girls just got to get her drift on i guess ROXY: it be like that

ilu roxy.

I missed Roxy so much, you guys.  I need more of him remarking on all this crazy shit if I’m gonna stay sane though all this.  (And I need more of him and AWAKE JADE kicking ass independently or together if I’m going to continue to believe there’s justice in the world.)

> ==>

We rarely saw Rose drinking anything but the rare coffee in canon, but I think Kanaya would have gotten her plenty into tea, yes.  Or at the very least, wanting the aesthetic of drinking tea with Kanaya would have gotten Rose into tea even if it never crossed Kanaya’s mind to try the stuff.

ROXY: well i mean who knows what she drinks now ROXY: dirk probs tossed the coffee machine out the space window right away ROXY: dude doesnt "believe" in "substances" > the prince is contemplated for a moment in silence.

FUCK, Dirk can see the narrative all the way out here???  No wonder alt!Callie’s forced to have possession turned on 24/7.  That’s fucking disappointing.  How the hell are we going to get any proper Jade time with THAT hanging over our heads?  She’d only be able to do anything when Dirk’s knocked out, and maybe not even THEN!

I was virtually promised more of actual non-asleep Jade getting shit done in HS^2.  Now there’s an even longer wait on it than I expected.  This sucks.

(EDIT: BOY did I misread that link line. Thinking “is contemplated” meant is sitting contemplating, when it meant "is being contemplated by everyone here". That was dumb of me.)

*clicks that next link*

Oh my goodness, Roxy joined the Bird Hair Crew.  It makes him look like a fucking asshole but I kind of love it.

KARKAT: IS THERE MILK?

I can’t believe Karkat is okay with drinking milk.  --yes, culturally Trolls are more comfortable with animal excretions than we are, but you would’ve thought years of railing against Equius would have purged any tolerance the idea of milk from his psyche.

I guess Dave introduced him to cereal, and it was all over from there.

DAVE: this is more like a castle DAVE: a castle of idk DAVE: twenty something ennui

Sounds like a relatable mood.  Especially considering Dirk probably decided to conquer reality out of almost nothing but twenty-something ennui.

Alright.  You aren’t going to turn Kanaya into an alcoholic or anything on us are you?

> the knight of time seeks a sylph...

--this is the shittiest shipboard starship aesthetic.

> ...and finds her, momentarily.

WOW that looks fucking depressed.  :(

> ==>

...okay you know what?  Never mind.  That outfit has wrapped straight back around into Trying Too Hard and is now hilarious.

DAVE: you ever feel like our whole lives are eventually gonna end up like this DAVE: just blasting through space on a sweeps long journey to ""somewhere"" chasing after or running from some vague enemy thats sometimes a god modded pet dog and sometimes your dad DAVE: without the faintest fucking idea of whats going to happen when we get there DAVE: thats a little specific but you know what i mean

Why do you think the epilogues upset us so much?  We thought we’d won free of that bullshit.

> ==>

Oh jesus christ that’s the most depressingly sad I’ve ever seen Kanaya drawn.  :C

--Karkat got you to watch Serendipity?  That’s amazing, Dave.

KANAYA: You Arent Reminding Me Of Her As I Rarely Think Of Anything Else KANAYA: I Close My Eyes And I See Her KANAYA: I Keep Them Open And I See Her

Fuck.

Y’know how little showing these two in love and actually HAPPY together we’ve seen in this entire comic and its subworks?  Despite them having spent at least a few happy years together we only saw in tiny screenclips?  And how Candy alluded super hard that they most likely couldn’t get that in this real timeline where shit’s going down?

Seriously, FUCK.  You could at least pretend to give us some hope, here.

Oh no, don’t ask for the nursery story, Dave.  Unless it turns out to be a funny one or a Rose twist on an old story or something.  Which it probably is, I should stop worrying.

> ==>

KANAYA: Oh Its A Wriggler Story About A Young Prince And The Beloved Flower He Loved And Lost DAVE: flower DAVE: like a plant KANAYA: Its A Fairytale Dave DAVE: right KANAYA: A Singular Wild Rose He Failed To Cherish When He Had Her KANAYA: And His Journey Of Discovering What She Meant To Him All Along KANAYA: Culminating In A New Quest To Find Her And Win Her Back

Dirk you PIECE OF SHIT did you rewrite the narrative of the fucking STORIES SHE TOLD CHILDREN?!??  Does the fact that alt!Callie is only in the present mean he can rewrite ANY past event we didn’t literally SEE???  FUCK you.  Seriously fuck all of this.

Please tell me she was kidding just then, or realizes there’s fucking something wrong with what she’s saying and getting angry or.

(EDIT: shoutyourporpoise replied: "Hey, idk If you picked up on this, but the 'nursery story' Rose told to the wigglers is just The Little Prince, which is maybe a BIT early for them to read, but I don't think that's a case of Dirk changing the narrative; its just Rose being Too Adult as usual." Oh, damn, I didn't even CATCH that it was that story. That makes all of this a lot more forgivable, even if pretty unforgivably leaning into the fiction that Dirk used to brainwash and kidnap her. Maybe that's exactly why it worked -- fiction, a story so blazed into the public consciousness? Hm. Thanks, shoutyourporpoise.)

KANAYA: But In A Way I Feel As If It Is the Greater Universe Trying To Tell Me Something

Mother fuck I’m even going to have to see our protagonists warped by Dirk when they’re ostensibly FULLY SHIELDED aren’t I.  There’s only so much of that I would be able to take, you know.

KANAYA: It May Simply Stem From My Longing To See Her Again And How Much Is Indicative Of Something More Sinister KANAYA: She Is A Goddess Of Light And The Only Of Her Kind We Know Is Alive After All KANAYA: Maybe Shes Wrested Dominion Of The Entire Concept In All Its Appearances Within This Frame Of Reference

Hm.  Well, it being a product of Rose’s ascension instead of Dirk’s is possibly a more charitable take, with Ultimate Rose projecting the delusion enforced on her backward, visible to past Rose’s Sight when she isn’t paying attention and thus paving the way for Dirk to paradoxically exploit that “ideal” as something Lighty and Important and “Perfect”.  I still don’t fucking like it though.

> ==>

DAVE: sorry i know you say you got your badass monster powers but kanaya you look tired as hell DAVE: not that im tryna psyche you or whatever but youre waxing poetic in the dark which i guess is maybe on brand but still

Yyyep.

DAVE: unless terezi is lurking in the vents somewhere and now that i bring that up its actually not out of the question so im kind of gonna be thinking about that one for a while

Pffff.

DAVE: youre the only person i know whos still basically the same as when i met you

--Which is kind of going to have to change, right?  She’s got some other cosmic purpose ready to change her a little more than she changed pre-human-troll-meetup, you’d think.

> ==>

Cute as hell.

> ==>

KANAYA: How Are Your Feelings

There’s the title drop.  I’d think Dave’s doing pretty well, considering?  Still fucked over by Dirk betraying and tricking Rose away who he’s been close with all his life, but.

> ==>

DAVE: except sometimes your best friend disappears and your other best friend goes into a ghost coma and your third best friend fucks off to space with your dad DAVE: the dude youve spent the last 7 years convincing yourself isnt an egomaniacal anime villain DAVE: and who isnt actually lying in wait to completely decimate your life and your emotions and shit

Ah... yeah.  A little worse than my casual list, huh?  Forgot that Jade vanishing into a possession-coma for THREE FUCKING YEARS is going to be hard on people inside the comic too, fuck.

DAVE: maybe it was naive to think that a bunch of twenty something trauma victims could run a society

I was honestly surprised they TRIED to run society at all.  Jasp even just highlighted a big reason why not in the bonuses.

DAVE: cool how earth c existed for centuries then we show up and manage to ruin society in seven fucking years

:(

Well, the trolls got THEIR lesson on why they didn’t deserve to rule over their new universe like gods; I guess some of y’all needed that lesson too?

DAVE: every serious conversation i have inevitably falls apart into riffing on a casual acquaintances ass

True.

Dammit, Dave didn’t feel like he could just be Some Guy even on Earth C.  :(

> ==>

...don’t think I’ve forgotten that nursery story, though.  I don’t want to think that it was something that ACTUALLY past happened, especially not without manipulation.  Like maybe past Rose was foreseeing the false purpose that Dirk wrote for her or the like, a cooperative misunderstanding between the two instead of Dirk or Rose literally reaching back in time.

> meanwhile...

KARKAT: WAIT, WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN ASKING? HE’S OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE. KARKAT: ARE ANY OF US? ARE YOU? ROXY: not rly KARKAT: EXACTLY.

:(

--Oh right.  I remember that Callie and Roxy were going reasonably steady in Meat even though it was only alluded to, she didn’t freak out and stay awol or what have you.  That’s good to remember.  But it means Roxy deliberately left her behind to go on this dangerous quest, for years.  :C

KARKAT: KANAYA BARELY EVEN TALKS, CALLIOPE WON’T LEAVE THEIR CABIN, JADE JUST FLOATS AROUND LIKE A CREEPY BALLOON THAT’S MOSTLY MADE OF HAIR.

Oh, SHIT.  I should have read one line further.  They DID bring her.  Alt!Callie being here too must really FUCK with her.  ...maybe she can actually learn to accept that alternate way her life might’ve played out, though?

KARKAT: THE REALLY FUCKED UP THING IS I MIGHT BE THE MOST OKAY OUT OF ALL OF US, WHICH IS HOW YOU KNOW SHIT HAS REALLY GONE GLOBES UP.

Quite true.

ROXY: ur kinda an intense dude anybody ever tell u that KARKAT: NO.

Pff.

> ==>

KARKAT: AGAINST PRETTY MUCH ALL ODDS, AND DESPITE ME NOT DESERVING ANY OF IT, I ENDED UP GETTING PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING I WANTED. KARKAT: OVER AND OVER AGAIN. KARKAT: SOMETIMES IT ALMOST FEELS LIKE WHATEVER SLATHERING MONSTROSITY OF A COSMIC HELLBEAST THAT PUT ALL THIS SHIT INTO MOTION...ACTUALLY LIKES ME?

Well, if you want to blame Lord English for instance... we never saw Caliborn and Karkat interact much, but the parallels between the two were drawn so severely that Caliborn was basically the idealized, multiverse-threatening Ultimate Kismesis that he’d always dreamed of.  And operated against him without him even ever quite realizing it.

If a level of “respect” went from Caliborn to Karkat, too, from his Lord-Englishy vision nigh-omnipresent, then this outcome isn’t very surprising at all.

> ==>

(I don’t quite feel I get why Roxy shifted to this exasperated-Dave expression, but I get logically that he’d been waiting for Karkat to make a breakfast choice... Homestuck proper rarely pulled a “last line said corresponds to next-panel’s expression” without either leaving the conversation blank or having the NEXT lines of the conversation reinforce it, to prevent this inelegant misunderstanding.  Andrew was really damned talented in getting his point across visually, in that regard.  Just like, that careful visual intent delivery.)

Alright, I guess that’s it for this short upd8!  Meeting the pursuit crew was both more and less difficult than I expected.  Hopefully I get desensitized a bit as the characters continue to feel semi-almost-sorta-fine.

I have NO idea how this group is gonna work as a proper crew when we get to whatever weird other-players’ session this shit is going down in, though.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #spoiler #spoilers #shoutyourporpoise

[babywarg]

Drpepperony Prompt: In her search for a way to help Tony, Pepper finds a very unique group of people in Nepal.

Hi @mistressstrange! Thanks again for another lovely prompt. This one went on a bit long, but I hope you like it 😘

Er, it pretends Iron Man 3 and the Doctor Strange movie happened at around the same time frame 😺

[8/22/2019: Have to put up this obnoxious note again: NOT ACCEPTING NEW PROMPTS AT THE MOMENT. Thank you for understanding 💕]

***

Anxiety, said the therapist she’d had to consult in secret, because Tony reacted badly when she suggested he see a specialist himself. Panic attacks. Possible PTSD.

She immediately recalled the time Rhodey told her about the “freakout” Tony had at the restaurant (“Please don’t tell him I told you - knowing him, it’ll freak him out more.”) That time she tried to wake Tony from a nightmare, and the Iron Man armor pinned her to the bed, sensing her as a threat.

The time when Tony’s Malibu house was blown up. The final confrontation with Killian, and Extremis.

All those times when Tony couldn’t sleep, and when he slept he had nightmares, even after Extremis had been eliminated.

Rest, the therapist said, when Pepper asked what he needed. Lots of it. And an arsenal of relaxation methods. He should learn how to recognize the signs of anxiety so he can better manage it.

She tried to get him into yoga, visit support groups, meditate…but all of it bored him. Pills were ineffective and made him feel “wonky” besides. He cut his caffeine and alcohol consumption, which helped some, but he also became irritable and depressive.

In short, despite her best efforts, he showed no promising signs of recovering.

She had said they needed a break…she had been hoping she and Tony could take that break together. But he refused, claiming he couldn’t imagine he’d be able to rest if he were taken away from his work.

So she took a week’s leave from work, to try and seek a cure by herself.

Pepper didn’t know exactly what was plaguing the man she loved.

But she was damned if she was going to lose him to it.

***

She heard there was a guru in Kathmandu, a “miracle worker,” who could get even the most tensed-up person in the world relaxed.

She flew into Nepal to meet him herself, and found him a complete and total quack.

So, no guru to bring back to see Tony. With days to spare, she decided to take some time for herself, and see the city.

It was what she did when she was younger, before her busy years in Stark Industries: she would travel, then break off from her tour group and wander alone, taking in the sights and sounds and enjoy just being somewhere different.

It was refreshing. No one knew her there, and no one expected anything of her.

Until she found herself herded by two shady men into a dark alleyway.

She could hold her own, that was true. But the two she thought she had whupped had come back with support, and six against one was simply more than she had trained for.

She was starting to get overwhelmed, when he heard a deep male voice yell for her assailants to stop.

At first it was just one person - a white guy around her age, with a scraggly beard, wearing very plain brown robes and a monk’s hood.

The other was a man in blue robes, but who wore a hood as well. He hung back until the first man cried out:

“Mordo! A little help?”

Then the other man smirked. “Looks like the two of you don’t need any,” he remarked, before unhurriedly jumping into the fray.

Unfortunately, though they were fated to win, given that her two new companions appeared to have above-average martial arts skills, Pepper was already winded by the time they arrived, and could not defend herself well.

One of the assailants had a knife. It tore a mean gash on the inside of Pepper’s forearm.

Unnamed guy noticed it only after all the attackers had been soundly knocked unconscious.

“Mordo,” he breathed, as he inspected the gash, “she’s wounded. She has to come back with us.”

“No,” the man exclaimed, seeming to know exactly what he meant. “Strange!”

Before Pepper’s eyes, a glowing portal appeared out of nowhere.

And the man leapt into it, with his arms around her.

***

Pepper shut her eyes as they entered the portal, and found herself in a sort of monastery.

She would have had more time to observe her surroundings, but she was already being half-dragged down a corridor by the man, who had not released her.

“We have to move quickly. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

She wasn’t sure what the man meant. She wasn’t feeling any pain…

But that was when she realized the man also had his hand on her arm…and that hand was glowing.

Glowing.

And shaking at the same time, though that was perhaps to be expected, given how bad those old scars on it looked…

Was the glowing what was stopping the pain?

Mordo, who had followed through the portal, was striding behind them. He seemed upset.

“We don’t just let outsiders in the way you did,” he was telling the first guy. “The Ancient One won’t approve of this.”

“I’ll deal with the Ancient One later,” was the level-headed response. “In the meantime, please get the medical supplies from Wong.”

With a final glare, Mordo left to do as he was bid.

Pepper took a bit of time to realize she was being herded by unfamiliar men a lot in this city - was she just taken to a secondary location? Was she unsafe?

But all thoughts of being unsafe fled her mind when the man sat her down on a large, ridiculously comfortable pillow, and raised her entire arm, applying firm pressure both on the wound and on a vein in her upper arm.

This guy knew what he was doing.

“Relax,” he said to her, “I’m a doctor.”

A doctor whose hands could glow and who could defeat armed opponents while completely unarmed himself, and open sparkly portals that could take him from one place to another in a heartbeat?

…Okay.

“You saved me,” she remembered to say through the confusion. “Thank you.”

He looked up into her eyes briefly, and she was stunned.

What a strange, captivating color…

“No need for that,” he replied, almost smiling. “But you’re welcome.”

***

As it turned out, she needed the next few days to recover.

Doctor’s orders.

She was in some sort of monastery…forbidden to go to certain areas, which she really wasn’t driven to explore anyway.

She really had lost a lot of blood. The day after the attack, she just wanted to stay in bed, eating the sparse but healthy fare she was given, and enjoying the view.

Her room had a brilliant view.

She had booked a decent suite for her journey, which promised a good vista of the city…but what she was given there was nowhere near as majestic as the one she got in that monastery.

“Lovely. Isn’t it?”

She turned and saw the unnamed man from last night, standing at the doorway with his hands behind his back.

But the man was looking at her. Not the view.

She wasn’t creeped out, however. It didn’t feel as if he was checking her out, or radiating any sort of ill intent.

She felt safe and relaxed in this place, in his company.

“I know people who’d pay a pretty penny for a view like this,” she confessed.

“Well, donations are always appreciated,” he disclosed. “But not compulsory in the least.”

“Not even after you saved my life?”

The man snorted. “Please, you could’ve taken them all by yourself.”

It was a joke, she was aware, but a well-meaning one. Which made her smile.

“I honor my debts,” she said, offering her hand for him to shake. “And I’m in your debt, Doctor…”

“Strange.” He took her hand. “But you can call me Stephen.”

***

As Pepper regained her strength, Stephen showed her around the unrestricted parts of the large monastery - which she learned was called Kamar-Taj.

Strangers who didn’t come for religious purposes were uncommon there, but not unwelcome. And she learned she was allowed to stay by their leader, the mysterious and reclusive Ancient One, who was out of grounds at the time and was not available for her to thank personally.

The monks lent her a cell phone for making international calls, and Stephen lent her his laptop so she could tell people about her whereabouts. She sent out a mass email saying she had an “incident” and would be staying a bit longer. She was canceling her flight home, but rebooking.

When?? was everyone’s frantic question.

When? was Tony’s weary, sleepless, desolate inquiry. I miss you, Ms. Potts. A hell of a lot.

“As soon as I can, Mr. Stark,” was her immediate reply. “I miss you a hell of a lot, too.”

All through everything, Tony remained foremost on her mind.

As they spent more time together, Stephen came to vaguely explain the magic that they learned in Kamar-Taj - about how they weren’t exactly secret, but weren’t exactly public knowledge, either.

Pepper got his meaning off the bat. She had been around people with superpowers, and understood the need for a measure of secrecy.

He also told her a little about himself. His life in the States. His old practice. His accident. How it might have been the best thing that happened to him, though it still gave him pain, in more ways than one.

(That last part reminded her of Tony as well. The ordeal in the desert, from which he emerged a changed man. The pain from the scarring that he would not - could not - let go of.)

In return, Pepper told Stephen about her boyfriend. The one she’d come to Kathmandu for. The most important person in her life.

And Stephen listened. Patiently. Until she found herself apologizing for talking his ear off.

“Please don’t be sorry,” Stephen said calmly. “Before, I never really appreciated the privilege of hearing someone talk about the things that matter the world to them. Now I do. I can tell you’ve kept all this in for a long time, and I’m honored by your trust.”

She liked him. A lot.

She wished she could take him back with her.

“I think you could do him a world of good, actually,” she thought aloud.

Stephen frowned. “You mean, because he needs a doctor?” It sounded like he was preparing for an argument.

Pepper smiled.

“No,” she assured him. “Because he needs a friend. Someone who may understand what he’s been through. Someone he’ll listen to.”

***

“You seriously think that’ll get me interested?”

“All right, then, enough about being friends. Now I’m asking you to see him as a medical expert.”

“Not that kind of doctor.”

“Just once! What’s the harm?”

She had to use her powers of persuasion to get him to agree to her request to join her on her trip home. It took a few days, too. He was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Tony…

But as with Tony, she could tell he liked her, too. In a way that meant there was a limit to how long he could say “no” to her.

“Fine,” he groaned eventually. “I’ll meet him. Just once. For a medical examination. Then I’m coming back.”

It wasn’t what she wanted, but she was going to take it. She’d convinced him there wasn’t a doctor in the world she trusted as fully as she did him.

Which was, in a way, true.

She’d talked to Tony about him, as well. From their phone conversations, he seemed genuinely interested in Stephen. But of course, that might just have been because he saw Stephen initially as someone who saved Pepper’s life…

But he didn’t take kindly to the notion that he was going to be given a medical examination. He’d avoided seeing specialists all that time - he was doubtful that a “doctor” of vague expertise, who could do magic, could be what he needed.

Pepper sighed. Their first meeting was probably going to be strained. But it was still worth a shot.

On the day they were due to leave, Pepper waited for Stephen at the monastery’s gate. She was surprised to see him for the first time in Western clothing - slacks, a jacket, black shoes, a round-neck shirt.

And with his beard neatly trimmed, into a shape that suited his face well.

Pepper admitted to herself that she possibly, just possibly, had a thing for vain men with meticulously trimmed facial hair.

“Ready to go?” he asked her.

“All set,” she answered. “Got your ticket?” He’d better. It was a pricey ticket. Business class.

He smiled wryly. “Miss Potts…you should get your money back from the airline, before it’s too late for a refund.”

He made a familiar gesture with one hand, and a portal opened in front of them.

On the other side of the portal was Tony’s workshop in upstate New York.

***

Tony was hopped up on caffeine and jumpy when they arrived.

In fairness, a shimmering portal opening out of nowhere was going to make anyone jumpy.

But seeing Pepper cooled his blood instantly. He trapped her in a tight embrace.

“I was so worried,” were his first words to her.

When they broke apart, he cradled her bandaged forearm delicately in his hands, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the bandaging was expertly done.

That was only when he paid attention to the other person in the room.

“Dr. Strange, I presume?” Tony looked him up and down.

Stephen stepped forward and offered a trembling hand for Tony to shake.

“Stephen, please,” he said pleasantly.

Tony ignored him and addressed Pepper again.

“So…what, is he staying? Should I fix up one of the spare rooms?”

“No need to bother,” Stephen interrupted, withdrawing his hand. “I won’t be here for long. I’m just here to do what’s necessary, then go back to my training.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony faced him squarely this time. “And what are you training to be, a model for some off-the-rack fashion line for high school librarians?”

Instead of getting puffed up, as Pepper feared, Stephen raised an eyebrow.

“Clearly I’m in the presence of an expert in dressing himself. What’s that, two, three sizes too small?”

They stared each other down. Pepper’s impulse was to intervene, but she was stopped by the fact that she felt no hostility at all between the two men.

Not even a tiny bit.

Presently, Tony started walking past her.

“I like this one,” he said casually, with a casual pat on her shoulder. “Well done, Ms. Potts. I’ll go get his room ready.”

She caught his hand before it slid off his shoulder and he walked past her, out of the workshop.

Stephen watched him go, then sighed. “I gather a medical examination isn’t forthcoming,” he ventured.

“Probably not today,” she answered, smiling. “You could stay the night if you want, or travel back to Kamar-Taj.”

Stephen looked back at the door where Tony had exited.

“I think I’ll stay,” he said pensively.

Something clicked just then. It was going to work out, having Stephen here to check on Tony. Pepper just knew.

She’d gone a great distance to find a way to help Tony.

It seemed she’d found exactly what she was looking for.

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