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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 1

Summary: The first thought that comes to mind as he looks at the scene in front of him is: wow, she’s cute. The second thought is: holy shit, did she just flip a six foot, two hundred fifty pound man into the ground without blinking an eye?

Thank goodness there’s time for second… and third.. And fourth impressions?

Seriously, how many creepy people and criminals does this girl deal with on a daily basis?

1(you are here) | 2 | 3 | ao3

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Damian Wayne is sure that if his elder siblings were watching him right now, they would be screeching at him to go help the girl. But-- well. His siblings and his father aren’t watching, and he isn’t sure whether or not the girl needs his help. The weirdly hooded man who is rapidly closing in on her might just live in the same direction. Surely, this time, his instincts are wrong. He’s only following them for peace of mind. Nothing is going to happen.

Otherwise known as: Damian isn’t particularly feeling up to saving another girl outside of his Robin costume and then being come on to. Why girls always have to have a Thing for people who saved them, Damian will never understand. He can’t imagine attempting a relationship with somebody who saved him, though admittedly the pool of candidates of people who are superior to him in capability is small, and far too annoying or old for him to ever consider dating them. And even thinking about having a relationship with somebody who couldn’t take care of themselves gives him the chills.

This leads to a very contemplative two minutes of walking the same path that the girl and the hooded person were taking-- he is not following them--until the girl who is being stalked darts into an alleyway. Of course, the hooded person follows her.

Is she trying to get herself killed? Damian can’t believe the sheer idiocy of the girl. At least the last girl he saved hadn’t done anything as stupid; her attacker cornered her near her home. Gotham girls know better than to duck into random alleyways. There is too much crime in Gotham for anybody with self respect to be so dumb.

With a sigh, and a wish that his brothers and father hadn’t beat a moral conscious into him, he lopes over to the alleyway, expecting to have to break up whatever futile struggle the girl put up with her stalker, or maybe even knock out the guy because by now, she must either be unconscious or on her way to other unpleasant circumstances.

Except.

By the time he gets over to the alleyway, the girl walks out unscathed, phone pressed to her cheek.

“Yes, you should check 12th arrondissement, two streets down from the Opera Bastille. He’s 6 foot, blonde haired and brown eyed. Wearing a grey hoodie and adidas.” The girl brushes past him, blinked at his appearance, then continued on the phone. “No problem, officer.”

Damian looks into the alleyway and there the man is, head lolled to one side. Unconscious, probably. His hands are tied up with a pink plastic zip tie. He looks out of the alleyway, eyes trailing after the girl who just left. She barely reaches his shoulder. Maybe, Damian thinks drily, Parisian girls are different.

At least Damian won’t get another adoring fangirl today.

Damian is sitting at a coffee shop across from the Louvre. It’s overpriced, and the coffee tastes awful, but it’s still coffee, and he’s tired. He’s here to check out the akuma that the Paris media keep reporting about, even though the Justice league of America shouldn’t have to deal with Europe’s problems, and also largely believed that it was a publicity stunt on Mayor Bourgeois' behalf.

Now, the Justice League of America isn’t really sure what is happening, but surely it can’t be that bad if the city has no damage, right?

What a joke. Damian has been here three days (count them-- three) and he is almost sure that he has been transported into some alternate dimension where some little kid’s imagination went wild and plopped the ever loving conundrum of Paris, France into Damian’s hands.

On the first day he arrived, there was a pigeon akuma-- apparently, one of the more frequent ones that popped up. Ladybug-- one of two consistent Parisian Heroes-- made quick work of him once she arrived on the scene, but it took her a while to arrive. Almost a whole half hour. Which meant that the streets of Paris were filled with bird poop and flooded with more pigeons than Damian knew existed, and he lived in Gotham. The other hero, Chat Noir, arrived after Ladybug, but handled the situation more warily. He later found out that this was due to the superhero being allergic to feathers, as witnessed by a video on this site called the Ladyblog.

Due to some freak magic power called the Miraculous Cure that Ladybug called after her battles, the streets had been blessedly cleaned, and the pigeons flew back to their mostly hidden existence. The world was right, once more. Then, on the second day, he tried and failed to save that weird girl who knocked out a man who had a good hundred pounds on her. He’s not sure that tried and failed is applicable to the situation, as the girl seemed competent enough to take care of an issue like that on her own.

Today, another akuma appeared. His name is Deliverer, a postman who had one too many customers complain about a package not being delivered in a timely manner.

Damian isn’t really sure how he felt about having people turning into villains over such trivial things. He is also no longer sure whether he is the best choice for this mission. His emotions tend to run hot, and there is the chance that he might become compromised. Because if there are people out there turning into villains over not being able to feed some pigeons, there is no way that Damian’s own annoyance with his family and the random people on the streets won’t be taken advantage of. However, out of his family, it’s not like there’s any better choice. Dick, maybe, but he’s busy with Kor’i and his daughter, and they won’t want to move to France. And he doubts that the superheroes of Paris want a metahuman trying to solve the case in Paris after seeing how much damage a normal citizen can do when akumatized.

It only takes ten minutes for Ladybug and Chat Noir to arrive on the scene this time. Whether it is because it is a new akuma, or whether it is because they were closer to the scene of the crime, Damian can only guess. He thinks it to be a combination of the two; Mr. Pigeon is a very common akuma and the people deal with his issues quite often, thus he is probably lower on the priority list. The heroes have their own lives to deal with, Damian is sure.

In any case, Damian rushes to the akuma when he gets an alert from the Ladyblog and is able to catch the tail end of a battle where Ladybug doesn’t even have to use her Lucky Charm. She just takes the clipboard after some bizarre yoyo moves and snaps the clipboard over her knee. When the butterfly flies out of the clipboard, she purifies it. Easy breezy, and no involvement from Chat Noir, yet again. The cat looks tired and Ladybug says something to him, her posture reminiscent of a mother scolding her child, after which he flees the scene.

Then, Damian gets caught up in a wave of exhaustion. Forgoing sleep for the past two days trying to catch himself up on the situation in Paris before making any major reports back to the league will do that. He needs coffee, badly, which is why he finds himself in this tourist trap coffee shop with some of the worst coffee-- wait. That girl seems familiar.

He spends a few seconds trying to place her. Short, pig-tails, part asian, blue hair and blue eyes. The girl he saw coming out of the alleyway yesterday. Of course. She is on her phone walking slowly and frowning, purse hanging at her side. Damian traces her movements. She is naturally graceful, but closes in on herself. He looks a little closer. Her eyes look red. Perhaps she is dealing with the aftermath of yesterday’s situation.

From the side, a guy darts out at her, reaching for her purse. The girl drops her phone to the floor in shock, clutches her purse, and then side-swipes the guy. A hand to his neck, a foot to his knees, and then her arms pulling his behind his back. She pulls a zip tie from her purse and ties his hands up, then picks up her phone almost exasperatedly and before calling someone.

Vaguely curious, Damian picks up his coffee and approaches the girl and criminal. Several others have done the same, only to be waved off with a blindingly bright smile and a yes, she’s fine, thank you very much.

“Need help?” More of a courtesy than anything else.

“No thanks, Monsieur.” The girl looks down at the time on her phone, then scrunches her face up. Freckles dot her pale skin. A text message alert from her phone causes her to scowl, and she looks down at her phone, then back up at Damian.

“Actually, could you do me a favor? I’ve really got to get back with my class, and I don’t really want to leave this guy in the middle of the street like this. I just called the police, and they should be here any minute. Stay with him?”

It’s not like his research on Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t wait a few minutes.

“Sure.”

Then, the girl runs off without another glance backwards. True to her word, the police do arrive a few minutes later.

“Where’s the girl that called?” The policeman asked with a furrowed brow.

“She had to leave.” Damian eyes the man, who has barely looked at him. The policeman is assessing the scene, taking in the handiwork of the pigtailed girl.

“Half-asian, blue eyes, freckles?”

“Yes.”

The policeman handcuffs the criminal. “That poor girl. She always seems to attract these street thugs. It’s really a blessing that she can take care of herself.”

This piques Damian’s interest. “This happens often?”

“She’s almost like an urban legend, at this point. Whenever we find a criminal tied up with a neon pink zip tie, we know it’s her. A real shame, too. She’s such a nice girl.”

He’s not sure if nice was the word to use. She looked slightly stressed and harried. Polite enough, but she certainly has no trouble putting guys twice her size down.

“Well, thank you for your help.” The policeman tips his cap and makes his way to the patrol car.

Damian goes back to drinking his coffee and scrolling through the Ladyblog on his phone.

“I’ve heard you do this quite often.” Damian appears at the girl’s side like a ghost, but she doesn’t jump. Doesn’t even flinch. Just takes a step back to reposition herself and gives him a side eye. Tactically, a good decision if he is another potential attacker. She created just enough distance that it would make it harder to attack her, but had moved in a smooth fashion that said she wasn’t going to run and was prepared to stand her ground. Her body half faces him, like she is ready to put up her guard at any moment.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Her victim this time is unconscious. Damian isn’t exactly sure what happened, but the quivering girl only a few feet away from them made him think that the girl in front of him has a bit of vigilante in her, because it is clear that this time she hadn’t acted in self defense.

In an act of goodwill, Damian takes his hands out of his pockets slowly, showing that he doesn’t have anything to hide. In response, the girl-- who Damian mentally decides to call Pigtails, since she’s had the same ridiculously childish hairstyle for their past three encounters-- relaxes, just a little, and turns her attention to the crying girl instead.

“Do you want me to call the police?”

Pigtails eyes flicker towards the man on the ground, who is what Damian approximates to be six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds, and then towards the crying girl looks to be in her mid twenties.

Pigtails hasn’t tied this one up, yet, but she has flipped him onto his stomach. Judging by the lingering look that she gives the man’s unbound hands, and the ziptie that she pulls out of her small purse, she’s ready and willing to tie him up at the slightest movement, or at the other girl’s command.

“I’m going to tie him up, okay?”

The other girl manages a yes, please. And so, Pigtails brandishes her ziptie, directs Damian to call the police; tell them they’re on Barbes Boulevard.

Damian assesses the situation before the operator comes on. The would-be victim is somewhere around twenty four, is slender and full of what his brother, Dick, would call French girl charm before getting hit by Cass or Barbara. She has brown hair that’s a mess on the left side of her hair, probably from the man grabbing her on that side, and is lightly tanned. There are bruises on her wrist and on her cheek that are quite visible and continuing to darken.

Now that Pigtails has tied him up, Damian nudges the man’s face with his foot to see what he looks like. Average looking at best, and he reeks of alcohol. Damian crinkles his nose. Midday drinking is not a good look on anyone. His clothes are also cheap. Fast fashion, but bad.

Then, there’s Pigtails herself. Evidently she trusted him enough to look after the brute, because after giving him a once over and nodding, she goes over to the other girl to comfort her. Damian is sure that Pigtails can’t be much older than himself, but he's not sure. She has a sort of timelessness about her, between the lightness in her step and the sharp, intelligent look in her eyes. Her sense of fashion is simple but chic, and whatever she is wearing looks pretty high end. Designer, even.

After relaying the information that he has gathered to the operator, he is told to please wait there with the victim and the attacker, and if he could have the other party involved stay there as well, that would be fantastic.

Pigtails is surprisingly good at calming people down. The other girl seemed seconds away from a complete breakdown and was rocking back and forth, muttering to herself before Pigtails started talking to her. Already, the other girl’s crying turns to hiccups, and then stops. She is then embraced by Pigtails, circles rubbed soothingly on her back, and a gentle smile that makes Damian purse his lips. He doesn’t see that kind of smile often in Gotham. Everybody is harder there, less willing to help. If they see somebody in danger, most times citizens hurry on their way because they don’t want to get involved. When citizens do get involved, their aftercare is fairly rough, if there is any aftercare at all. Even as a vigilante, Robin didn’t often comfort victims afterwards. He helped them to police stations or the hospital occasionally, but never stopped to talk with them.

By the time the police get there, Pigtails has the girl standing with a watery smile on her face. What a feat. Damian wonders, briefly, if having Pigtails’ social capabilities would help victims back in Gotham.

“Ah, Marinette,” the police officer smiles warmly. “We meet again.”

“Officer Raincomprix,” Pigtails inclines her head.

The officer is of stocky build, red headed and green-eyed. He cuffs the man, lugs him to the back seat of his cruiser, locks the door, and then comes back out. “I’d like to take your statements, now.”

Damian learns that the attacker, Fraser Barbot, was in several of Nicolette Deanne’s master classes this year. Both were studying business with an emphasis on fashion, which resulted in a lot of time spent together. Fraser thought that a relationship was the inevitable next step. She refused, because besides their master’s emphasis, they didn’t really have much in common. She also just wasn’t interested in him. He became slightly more hostile to her after her rejection. Then, as the months went by, they started vying for a lot of the same job opportunities. Nicolette had gotten the most prestigious one, and had many other companies attempting to persuade her into joining their business instead. Fraser had gotten very few, and was convinced that Nicolette had stolen those job opportunities away from him, had seduced her potential employers, and asked her why she wouldn’t do him if she was so willing to put out.

That was when Marinette had come in. She was walking to a fabric store when she heard the commotion and saw Fraser hitting Nicolette. By the time she got over to them, Nicolette had already acquired several bruises on her arms, shoulder, and face. After arriving, she promptly knocked him out.

By the time the three of them finish their statements, nearly ten minutes have passed, and Officer Raincomprix bids them farewell.

“If you ever feel like you’re in danger again, Miss Deanne, feel free to call. Since you want to press charges, we’ll be in contact with you soon. Call us if more than three days go by without hearing from us. A taxi has been called for you, so you can get wherever you were going in peace.”

Officer Raincomprix turns to Marinette and Damian with a slightly sunnier disposition. “And thank you two for helping. Especially you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you ever change your mind about wanting to go into law enforcement, just give me a call. I should really have Sabrina do whatever training you’re doing, because it’s clearly effective!”

Marinette laughs. “The bakery is magic. Between lifting bags of flour, running around the city for deliveries, and Maman’s cooking, anybody could do what I do. I’ve heard a lot of good things about the studio down the street from our school, though, so you could have her look into that.”

This, Damian thinks, is such a bald-faced lie he almost chokes on his own spit. There is no sort of magic food that imbues a person with the ability to fight like Pigtails does and lifting flour bags in a bakery doesn’t suddenly allow people to take down people with ease. She has to have had some professional training, though if he is being honest, her movements feel like they have more of an origin in street fighting than they do in any martial arts.

She’s remarkably good at lying, mixing jokes with statements that had the possibility of truth. Maybe Damian is just being paranoid. Maybe she trained at some studio that she didn’t want to mention and the studio taught amazing self defense. Maybe she is just an excellent study. Somehow, Damian doubts that was the truth of the matter, but there isn’t much of a reason for Damian to spend his precious time determining the reason why this girl lies to policemen. It’s her business. It doesn’t concern him.

Then, Officer Raincomprix heads back to the police cruiser and Nicolette gets into the taxi she ordered for herself, looking worlds better. Marinette turns to him with a smile. The smile is so blindingly bright and pure that he suspects it lets the girl get away with a lot of things. “Thanks for the save. It was a lot easier to calm Nicolette down since you handled the call. I’m Marinette, it’s nice to meet you.”

Damian nods in return to her wave and smile. “No problem. I guess this answers my earlier question. You do get caught up with criminals quite often.”

She flushes, and it makes the freckles on her pale skin show even more. “What do you mean by that?”

“You seemed to be on very good terms with that police officer.”

“Oh, that. He’s a classmate’s dad. I’ve seen him around plenty of times.” She waves him off.

A very good liar, indeed. Pigtails keeps to half truths and vague statements. Damian gets the feeling that she definitely saw him more often in the capacity of a police officer than he did as a friend’s father. Understandable to lie to him, though. He is just a stranger, and he certainly doesn’t go around telling every person on the street his life story. Maybe Pigtails values privacy, just like he does.

The movement of the police cruiser catches his eye. Fraser has woken up, and he is not happy about being handcuffed in a police cruiser; they can hear him screaming at Officer Raincomprix from the street. Marinette’s eyes jump to the cruiser as well, eyes narrowing as she sees a butterfly approach the cruiser.

“Oh, for--” Marinette glances at Damian, at the butterfly, and then at Fraser. She makes a split decision. “Come on, let’s get out of here. This is not going to be pretty.”

“What do you--” Pigtails is pulling his arm with more strength than he thought possible. If this is just her pulling him, it’s no small wonder that she fares so easily against all her opponents. She definitely has strength behind her small frame.

“Fraser is probably going to get akumatized and we have to get you to the nearest shelter. Then, you’re going to wait there until the all-clear alert is given, got it?” She pushes him into a building, says by way of explanation to the bewildered looking employees, “Akuma,” and then rushes off, saying, “I’m going to go home, because clearly I’m not going to be able to go shopping for fabric today.”

Damian doesn’t stay in the shelter that Pigtails has so kindly guided him to, and there are a few people who look at him in confusion; people should be entering the building if there’s an akuma attack, not leaving. But Damian has a job to do and watching the battles up close is much better than watching the footage on the Ladyblog, which, in recent years, has turned into little more than poor speculations and attempts to stoke relationships between heroes that haven’t been used in years. When he looks at the information the website had up years ago, Damian finds a bunch of interviews that clearly haven’t been fact checked done with a girl named Lila, who is in the class he’s going to be transferring into, and despite the fact that they’ve been taken down since then, he doesn’t trust most of the Ladyblog’s information without video evidence. Not the most reliable news source about akuma, however, most other blogs he found didn’t have any videos taken up close. The older footage of past battles on the Ladyblog were pretty good quality, but they had gotten worse and worse, which meant that Damian and the Justice League didn’t have a clear picture about the heroes’ or villain’s capabilities.

By the time Damian arrives, back on the scene, Ladybug is already there in her red and black spotted glory. She has pulled Officer Raincomprix to safety.

“I am Shackled! Burdened by unfair double standards that allow incompetent tramps to get jobs before other, clearly more superior candidates do and by the corrupt justice system that wants me to go to jail, I desire what I should have been given to begin with! The affections of ladies clearly below me, and jobs that were made for me.” Convenient. If every villain explains their modus operandi to the heroes, it is probably easier to take them down. “Give me your Miraculous, Ladybug!”

The hero scoffs, avoids the chains that Shackled controls, and crouches atop a car a fairly good distance away.

Chat Noir lands, quick to make a pun. “If you feel so tied down by society, why don’t you just bug off? No woman wants to deal with somebody who has such a su-paw-riority complex.”

Ladybug rolls her eyes, but allows the pun. “Chat Noir’s right. You need to get taught a lesson on ethics and morality. If a woman got a job and you didn’t, that just means she’s better than you. Your interviewers probably saw that you had an awful attitude and work ethic. Nobody wants such a toxic person in their work environment.”

“Don’t you mean clawful, m’lady?”

“Chat,” Ladybug reprimands. She tosses her yoyo in the air. “Let’s get this over with. Dealing with misogynistic akumas is annoying. Just talking to them uses up all of my common sense.”

She throws her yoyo in the air, and calls, “Lucky Charm!”

A pack of zipties falls from the sky. Ladybug groans. “You have got to be kidding me. Zip ties? Really? You couldn’t have given me anything else? This is going to take forever. Chat, grab some of his chains and zip tie them together.”

“You’ve got to be yanking my chain, m’lady. We can just take him out without using the Lucky Charm.”

“No, the akuma is in the chain that’s between his handcuffs. And we can’t get there unless we immobilize all of these.” She gestures around wildly, then begins the process of grabbing chains and zip tying them together. As she continues to tie more and more together, it begins to get harder and harder for Shackled to move them as he wants, and a butterfly mask flashes over the akuma’s face.

After almost thirty minutes of tying and avoiding the few free flying chains that there are left, Chat Noir and Ladybug finally get all of the chains in one messy bundle that is too heavy for Shackled to control. At one point in the battle, Ladybug darts towards Chat Noir, a concerned look on her face, but he brushes her off and they continue working. Chat Noir cataclysms the chain between Shackled’s hands, and sure enough, a butterfly flies out. Damian watches as Ladybug shoves the butterfly into her yoyo and feels his eye twitch as the black-purple butterfly comes out white. He hates magic. It makes things so much more complicated than they should be.

“Bien Joue,” the two superheroes say to each other before heading off in opposite directions.

Damian sticks to his first thought. Whatever is going on in Paris is definitely the equivalent of some kid having a series of very weird dreams.

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All the way up to ch 4 is already posted on ao3! I’ll be posting this fic daily up until i catch up :) also how do you decide where to put the keep reading for all you experienced tumblr users? idk where a good place to break is

#miraculous ladybug #daminette #dc #mlb x dc #sbgs #ch 1 #maribat #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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gretchensinister · 4 years

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So I watched Color Out of Space yesterday because I thought it would be bad and batshit and something that would serve as good knitting background.

Only it wasn’t bad.

(Still batshit and still good knitting background though.)

I don’t really know where to start talking about this but since I’m doing this for free, I’m going to talk about eggs benedict first. I love eggs benedict. If you don’t know what it is, the standard is an English muffin, with Canadian bacon on top of it, with a poached egg on top of that, and the whole thing topped with hollandaise sauce.

I can poach an egg sort of successfully most of the time. But my standard grocery shopping doesn’t include English muffins or Canadian bacon, and making hollandaise is a whole thing with raw egg yolks and either getting your blender dirty or whisking until your arm falls off and like…if I have enough time to make a breakfast of more than one step for myself (or if I feel like having breakfast for dinner) I’m also probably trying to chill that day. Also I’m already poaching a couple of eggs and that’s where the anxiety has to go.

So when I want eggs benedict at home, it’s going to be made with: whatever kind of bread thing I have, topped with whatever kind of meat I have in the fridge (I have used a sliced-up hot dog for this), topped with a poached egg, topped with not hollandaise, but something that will work for the purpose, made by stirring up mayo with lemon juice and a dash of cayenne pepper. I’ve never been disappointed with my results, maybe because I’m a gremlin? I wouldn’t serve any of this business to a chef, but I don’t make this to serve to a chef, I make this to eat it.

Maybe that will help you understand what I’m feeling about Color Out of Space. Some spoilers below.

In the first half-hour or so of the movie, I was flip-flopping about whether the movie was “self-aware” or not. Like, is the weirdness unintentional? Should I wince with secondhand embarrassment at the filmmakers?

I think the answer is firmly NO to these two questions. In fact, I think that the filmmakers were WILDLY SUCCESSFUL in what they intended to do.

There were several different things that convinced me that they were doing whatever they were doing on purpose, including all their deviations from the H.P. Lovecraft story the movie is based on.

1. Right at the beginning, there’s a bit of flirting between the hydrologist and the daughter of the family that lives on the farm where the meteorite will soon land. Yeah it’s heterosexual nonsense, BUT. The hydrologist is Black and the daughter is white. H.P. Lovecraft’s head is suitably exploded, now we can do whatever we want.

2. The dinner scene with the family where there’s a short conversation about how the daughter is always wanting fast food. Now, in context this is just to establish that she’s missing living in the city vs. in the middle of nowhere. But importantly, she’s the first character we see in the movie and so is kind of our gateway into this situation. And she doesn’t want the home-cooked meal, she wants the fast food, even after her mother points out the questionable ingredients. “I know,” she says. “But it tastes like heaven.” Sometimes you want fast food even though you know very well that it’s not gourmet. Not every horror movie has to be a perfectly balanced tour-de-force of suspense, mystery, and social commentary. You can relax. Come into the movie.

3. The first creepy phone call. The hydrologist is at his survey camp (? IDK why he was outdoors at night in this scene actually, mumble mumble fieldwork?) and he gets a garbled, static-filled phone call on what is obviously a modern smartphone. But when he disconnects, there is the clear sound of a DIAL TONE. To me, this is too bizarre to be an accident, especially because there are a number of other phone calls and disconnections in the movie, and none of them end with a dial tone. I think the filmmakers do know what it’s like to use a phone. (Though there is a scene where the daughter is trying to call 911 and tells her father in a panic that she can’t get a dial tone. IDK what that’s about. A genuine error? A moment that might as well have a label that says “nitpickers take pot shots here”?) Back to the hydrologist. At this moment, as a viewer, I’m still thrown off by the dial tone. It’s nonsense, and that makes it a “bad movie” marker, I guess, but someone had to decide to put the sound in. It couldn’t have happened carelessly. And then the hydrologist has to block a glare of light. He uses the book he’s been reading, which is “The Willows” by Algernon Blackwood—which was one of Lovecraft’s favorite supernatural stories. It’s very clear to the audience—not a lingering shot, but still something that’s not supposed to be an Easter egg.

And this is where I say, okay. The filmmakers know their source material. They know their audience. No one in the movie is winking at the camera, and the movie is yes, kind of funky, but it’s not made in a careless way or in a way that you feel that the filmmakers are inviting laughter. It’s horror—and believe me, they’ve got some practical effects in this one are truly ghastly—but it’s horror that exists very clearly in its genre and feels playful because of that.

Three things that show that playfulness to me: the name of the hippie squatter’s cat. The cat is named G-spot, which, in the movie itself is explained as an immature joke “a pussy named—” but even as I was groaning and thinking “that’s a terrible name for a cat” the part of my brain that knows more about Lovecraft than I care to is like, “but not the WORST name for a cat!” and I don’t know if the filmmakers expected anyone to be like “well at least the cat isn’t named ———” but that was part of my reaction.

The casting of Nicholas Cage. Nicholas Cage is/was kind of a meme on his own, and in this movie he plays the dad of the family that lives in the house the meteor lands by. And at a certain point in the movie, his accent goes a little weird and he starts acting more like the stereotypical asshole horror movie dad. I dismissed this as just a disappointment at first, like, this is bad acting and bad acting choices and bad writing happening to move the plot. But then he switches back to his previous established character, and after it happened again I realized that this was happening because of the alien color messing with his mind! Even after accepting that the movie was being purposeful, I was still caught up in the idea of Cage as a bad actor and the movie as a bad movie that I was fooled into missing the first signs of alien mind control! That’s meta.

The kid going full creepy child like, immediately after the meteor hit. Obsessive drawing, staring off into space, invisible friends, the works. But it’s not even a main thing. We never even get a full good look at what he’s drawing. There’s no scene where either parent stops and dramatically stares at it and we wonder “oooooh is it really real?” It’s definitely real and it’s causing worse problems by the minute. The kid has gone full creepy child, but there is OTHER SHIT that is ALSO URGENT. It amused me to have this trope be present but not central.

What else do I want to say? Overall this movie had very little downtime. It didn’t waste a bunch of time with people denying that anything weird was going on, or trying to make the viewer wonder if all this was real. It’s real and it’s fucking up your alpacas! The movie assumes that viewers know “The Colour Out of Space” and doesn’t tease us with any “what-is-happening-if-anything” tension. Of course it’s happening. Show us what we came to see.

I think what made it successful for me were the same kinds of things that make good fanfiction successful, which only makes sense as it is essentially a “The Color Out of Space” modern AU. The willingness to play with tropes, the assumption of viewer familiarity with the source, etc.

The effects were used judiciously, and if some of it just seemed like a light filter or two I have to say I don’t really care.

And I think that’s all for now. Oh, except that I want to mention, only the Black guy lived. The hydrologist was the one to narrate the opening and the closing, the only voice that spoke any words from the original short story. Whaddaya know.

#color out of space #this absolutely deserves to be a cult classic #another comparison: it's like if Annihilation had no brains #but not in a BAD way #(I love Annihilation)

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 21--Radiant Garden

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Demyx, Aeleus, and Ansem arrive in Radiant Garden.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Demyx expected Radiant Garden to be… nicer.

Then again, it apparently once was, if anything Ansem was saying was true. The whole city kind of stunk , a smell that made Amalia cry. Demyx knew by then it was darkness.

The three of them didn’t talk much on the ferry ride over, as though saying too much might give them away. But the workers just ushered them on boredly and treated them as normal passengers, not that there were many this early morning.

“So where are we going?” Demyx asked.

“Not to worry, I’ve got it all straightened out,” Ansem said.

So bizarre still, to think that the king was his father-in-law. He kept looking at Amalia, as though she might disappear. Demyx noticed for the millionth time just how much she looked like Ienzo--the shape of her eyebrows and eyes, her pale skin, her hair. Sometimes he thought she smelled like him.

Ienzo was alive.

Along the waves and waves of longing for him was something bitter and sharp. How could you have left me? Have left us? Demyx tried to squelch those thoughts down--it wasn’t as though Ienzo wanted this to happen--but it was tough doing.

They disembarked from the ferry and walked through the streets. They were eerily empty--the few people they did see narrowed their eyes and walked too quickly. Ansem sighed heavily. “This was once such a beautiful place.”

Demyx could see that too. The flower gardens were everywhere, but a lot of the flowers were limp, brown, dying. The few vibrant flowers they saw turned out to be plastic as they approached. Amalia lay against his chest limply, as though exhausted. While they saw old signs for streetcars, Demyx didn’t see any on the streets.

So they walked. Amalia only weighed a little over seven kilos, but even with the sling Demyx found himself getting achy. After a while, Ansem offered to take the baby from him. “It’s the darkness, making you weak,” the king said out of the corners of his mouth.

Many of the houses were boarded up and shuttered, and in some places there was evidence of destruction--soot from fires, broken glass, rubble. What seemed like hours later, they arrived at an apartment building at the farthest edge of the city. Demyx’s feet were positively screaming. Ansem handed the baby back and took a small skeleton key from his pocket. “This used to be the resistance’s headquarters,” he said, equally as quietly. “Some years ago they got smoked out.”

“How is it safe, then?” Demyx asked.

“Because Xehanort thinks we’re not stupid enough to return to the places we’ve left.”

They walked up to the fourth floor landing. The building was abandoned; Demyx could feel it. It was old, dusty. Amalia sneezed. At least the power still seemed to be on, flickering unsteadily in bare bulbs. They reached a door at the end of the hall and Ansem unlocked that, too.

This must’ve once been a nice apartment, but dust and water damage bloated the silk wallpaper, and dirt permeated every crevice. Demyx could see spots where the resistance must have… resisted the “smoking out”; gouges in floors, cracks in the wall, a chair with one of its legs broken. Most of the furniture left was covered in sheets. Aeleus tried to open one of the windows, but it was stuck and didn’t get more than a few inches. He sighed. “I don’t suppose you know any wind magic,” he said to Demyx.

He shook his head. “Water, mostly. Sorry.”

Aeleus thought. “Actually, that might just work.”

Demyx handed Aeleus the baby. It still felt weird, to use his own power after so long, but he was surprised at how easily it came. He felt like he was doing something wrong, sweeping water off of the floors, the surfaces he could see; the grime was coming up more easily than he thought. He guided the water across the furniture, too, washing it clean, then drying everything back out and dumping the waste out the window. “Would’ve made apartment life in college a lot easier,” he muttered. The place was a different color.

“Can you ward?” Ansem asked.

Demyx felt his face heat. “...No.”

He passed the baby back to him. “No matter.” He started casting the then-familiar barriers at the door.

“I didn’t think you were a magic user.”

“My power is considerably less than Ienzo’s--much like your daughter got his, my sister got our father’s.”

“...Magic is so weird,” Demyx said.

He laughed. “Indeed it is, my dear boy.”

“I’m going to see if I can find some food,” Aeleus said. “Don’t go anywhere if you can avoid it.”

Demyx and Ansem continued to get the apartment ready for living. Demyx missed with a sudden ache his old apartment with Riku, the basement in the townhouse. Reliable clean hot showers. Restaurants, bars. Clubs. Friends.

Ansem rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I… know I should be glad we’re together, and alive. But…”

“You miss your old life. Of course you do.” He smiled kindly. “I think we all do every now and again.”

“Especially you--I mean, you must’ve had it pretty freaking sweet.”

“Things are just things,” Ansem said wistfully. “I miss mostly… my family.”

“Ienzo,” Demyx said, feeling the now-familiar accompanying stab of pain.

“My son… Even, that dear man… my apprentices. And those members of staff who became family, too.”

Demyx considered the way Ansem said Even’s name. “Do you… love him?”

Ansem looked confused. “My son? Of course.”

“No, Even.”

Ansem looked out the window.

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”

After a moment Ansem said, “We never… said as such. I’d hoped… things would evolve eventually, and then…”

“...Shit hit the fan.” Amalia cooed as though in response. “Right.”

“...I’m hoping that somehow all this nonsense will be behind us soon. That your daughter can grow up knowing Xehanort as only part of history.”

She made small smacking sounds. Very deliberately, she smiled. “She likes you,” Demyx said. “Well. She likes mostly everyone, but…”

Ansem chuckled. He leaned forward to take Amalia’s tiny fist into his hand. “You’re a seeker, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“From where?”

“Destiny Islands.”

“So you’re--”

“...Yeah.” He swallowed. “She’s got the, uh, scales. You’ll probably see them if you ever change her.”

Ansem sat on one of the covered chairs. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he said in a low voice, knotting his hands.

Demyx knew how he would answer, but he said, “for what?”

“For choosing this life for you. I assure you I did not know your people intended a living person to be behind Ienzo’s protection. I was… woefully ignorant of the cultural implications.”

Demyx considered this. “My parents sold me so they could stay together,” he said instead. “What would the alternative have been? I’d have still always been seeking Ienzo, whether or not I knew it. And I’d never have found him if I stayed where I was.”

“Is that what you sought? A partner, a family?”

“Must be,” he murmured. “I… I don’t know. I feel divorced in a lot of ways from my past self. I didn’t even remember a lot of it until recently. Swiss cheese memory.”

“Darkness can cause amnesia that only time and coincidence can heal.”

“Apparently.”

There was a gentle knock at the door; they all tensed, even Amalia, and Demyx’s heart broke a little more ( she shouldn’t feel afraid like this ). Ansem drew a dagger from his boot and approached it slowly. Then he looked through the peephole and sighed heavily, and Demyx knew that kind of sigh. Longing.

Even was sopping wet as he came through the door. “Don’t ask,” he said, before he caught sight of Ansem. “Oh--”

“Hello, Even,” he said.

Even’s face had gone oddly blank. “Hello... I…” A faint flush spread through his face, and he turned instead to Demyx. “How’s the baby?”

“She’s fine. Want me to dry you out?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Demyx did so. “Nice day for a swim, huh?”

“Boy, I said don’t ask. ” He took off the unflattering parka he wore. He seemed to struggle to gather himself. Then, to Ansem, “I thought we’d agreed to keep you out of this.”

Demyx wondered if now might be the right moment to try and get the baby down for a nap. He stood carefully and eased his way towards one of the bedrooms. “The time for cowardice is over, I think. Lest Ienzo be in more trouble than he’s already let on. At some point my safety becomes complicity. Don’t you agree?”

Demyx eased the door shut. They continued this discussion in low voices. Amalia squalled a little, reaching towards Even. “I know, Li-li. You missed him. But he has to talk to grandpa Ansem.” He washed out the blanket on the bed quickly and tucked it into a larger drawer of the dresser. Before all this, he’d thought the babies-in-a-drawer thing was only pop culture. They used to have a pack-and-play she’d used as a bed, but they’d had to abandon it one night. That was before Isa taught him about pocket dimensions. Either way, she didn’t seem to mind, and he sang her a lullaby until she fell asleep.

He must’ve slept too, draped in the musty armchair; he was only woken by the gentle tapping of nails on the wooden floors. Demyx jerked awake, reaching automatically for the baby, before he saw it was just Isa; moonlight bled into the room. “Your time of the month already, huh?” he asked.

Isa just glared at him with the wolf’s eyes and trotted over to the baby, sniffing her once; she cooed.

“Must’ve been easier to swim this way though, I bet.”

He just bobbed his head once.

“Everyone else still out there?”

Another nod.

“Keep an eye on her for me? I bet she’s starving.”

On shaky legs, Demyx walked back over to the door, which Isa had left open. Ansem, Aeleus, and Even were gathered at the small round kitchen table in the dark, their eyes on Even’s phone, something like horror in their expressions.

He didn’t like the sinking feeling he got. For the first time in a while his own magic pinged unpleasantly. “What?” Demyx asked.

“Oh, Demyx. Let me get you some coffee,” Ansem said. He crossed back over to the pot. “I’m afraid there’s only milk--”

“What. Happened.”

Even just sighed, and it was a sigh of someone about to have a hard conversation. “Why don’t you sit down?” He took off his glasses, but this only made him look more exhausted.

Another unpleasant ping. “Ienzo,” he said, with something like desperation.

“...is still alive. Physically, anyway.” Even guided Demyx over to a chair and pressed the coffee into his hand. He touched his shoulder, once; Even only initiated physical contact if something bad happened. “Take a breath. It may not be as it seems.”

Aeleus just shook his head.

But Demyx had always been smarter, or maybe more intuitive, than the once-scientist thought. “He’s been brainwashed.”

“The picture I have is not completely clear--” He began, then took a moment to compose himself. “The city news has been unreliable, as it’s now owned by the state.”

“Let the other shoe drop before you give the boy a heart attack,” Ansem said. He was still facing the counter.

Even’s lips pursed even more. Without ceremony, he presented Demyx the phone, which was open to a news article.

Missing princess actually prince, voices support for new regime.

He thought he might faint. “Oh, shit .”

#heartlines #demyx #ienzo #zemyx #ansem the wise #even (kingdom hearts)#aeleus #child oc - amalia

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kinghoranshit · 3 years

Text

Just Another Normal Story (HS) - PT 5 (Finale)

I pulled the trigger and knocked down another zombie. I laughed watching her just fall to the ground. It’d become way too easy.

“Harmony won’t go down,” Harry huffed.

I looked up at Harry from a kneeled down position on the porch. Harry, dad, and I each have patrols during the day to keep them somewhat under control; we let my mom watch Harmony, she had a gun if she needed to shoot any that happened to make it inside. Sometimes we didn’t have any at all. But we definitely never go out at night. It was hard to see them. I wouldn’t say my fear was completely gone. I still couldn't handle them in the dark.

“Okay, I’ll get her. Here, keep watch.” I handed him the crossbow.

“But I don’t like the crossbow,” Harry muttered.

I rolled my eyes. “Well it’s the only weapon out here. Use it if needed.” I ran out onto the lawn. I hadn’t been watching my back completely.

As I yanked the metal arrow out of some little girl’s head, I felt strong teeth bite into my shoulder. They did little damage because of the heavy army jacket. It still hurt though; it was like a large boulder crushing your bones.

“You bitch!” I turned around to punch the athletic looking girl. It was after I fought with her, snapping her neck, and then punctured her head with one of my arrows that I realized it was Ellise. Then I gasped, looking back at the little girl. Lela, Ellise and John’s daughter.

Fuck me. I had never killed any zombie that I knew. Let alone my own niece. I had been blinded. If I had known, I probably wouldn’t have pulled the trigger in the first place.

My heart thumped in my chest as I looked around. Oh God. No. Not John. Please no. The cat-like call sounded and I looked over to see John-- paled, eyes glossy grey, brown hair faded, and veins blue as the sea.

How’d they even get here? It was a far trek to make when human. I couldn’t imagine the painfully slow steps.

“Home,” I heard a voice rasp.

It wasn’t me. And I knew it wasn’t Harry. Wait.

“John?” I asked.

He advanced towards me but I couldn’t do anything. Not my own brother. I already felt sick to my stomach about Ellise and Lela.

An arrow shot into his arm and he looked at it, then pulled it out. Not fazed at all. He was different than the others; possibly in a good way. And man Harry was a terrible shot with the crossbow.

“Nik-...ki,” John rasped and reached out to touch my face.

“Get away from her!” Harry ordered, storming out onto the grass with a reloaded crossbow.

“Harry, no! He’s not going to hurt me. He’s talking… Well only two words, but I understood him. Something’s different.”

John grunted, looking down at Ellise and Lela. “S-Sorry… Lov-e you.”

“Whoa,” Harry breathed, halting a foot away. Yet, he still held up the crossbow.

“John?” I asked.

He grunted with a small nod.

“Why aren’t you attacking? Ellise sure did.”

“Tried… Tried to st-s-stop… her,” he replied. “K-killed… Le.”

This was so bizarre.

“Inside?” I pointed to the house. I noticed two other zombies across the street in the neighbor's yard. They were smelling the air. It would only be two seconds for them to come running over here. I took some of Ellise’s brain matter to put on my face, then wiped a little on Harry’s.

That felt wrong on so many levels. I couldn’t stop myself from hurling to the side despite the lack of food today. My stomach clenched while my head felt like it would explode; the burning tears built up to the point two streams ran down my cheeks. The smell wasn’t that bad, had the time been pre-apocalypose, I definitely would’ve been gagging at it.

“I’ll take care of them,” Harry informed, rubbing circles on my back with his free hand.

I wiped my mouth and cheeks as I straightened and made a small nod. The two of us stood there and watched Harry shoot them down, grab the arrows, and come back. Then I guided slightl wobbly John inside and locked the door behind us.

“Before you freak, he’s talking. Small phrases. He won’t attack,” I explained as I guided John into the living room. Even though I stated the last words, I rubbed some zombie blood on Harmony’s tiny forehead. It caused a small cry to leave her. I only picked her up and rocked her back and forth.

“Talking?” My dad walked up to John to assess. He held his shotgun close to his side, clearly ready to do what was needed; regardless if it was John.

“Dad,” John grunted, making a nod movement. An actual smirk crossed his face. “P-Packers… better-r.”

“How come he’s not attacking?” My mom furrowed her brows.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because we’re family?”

“Zombies don’t care about that. They only want to eat,” my dad remarked, still obviously suspicious.

John’s eyes went wide as he continued to look around. He looked a bit funny. Harry and I couldn’t stop the chuckles under our breaths.

I shrugged once again. “I really don’t know. It’s a bit strange. Never thought we’d have like a Warm Bodies thing come in.”

“You did with putting the zombie matter on yourself,” my mom corrected.

I lightly rolled my eyes. “Sure. The weird thing is... Ellise did attack me. And it might have been because I killed Lela. I didn’t know it was her. I was just doing patrol.”

“Fo-Forgive,” John breathed out, making us all gasp in surprise.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked, pointing to him.

“F-Fuck you man,” John retorted, which caused my mom to laugh hysterically.

As weird as this was, it was kind of nice to have John around. Sort of. We still didn’t know where Leo was or how anyone else in the extended family was doing. We assumed the worst, which wasn’t that far off with John.

I laid Harmony down for a nap. Her, more like Harry’s, green eyes looked up at me expectantly; that became apparent as she got older over the past months.

“C’mon, Harm. Sleep. You need to,” I caressed.

She still looked up at me as if I was an idiot. I sighed and began to think of a story I could tell to lull her asleep. I started it off with a girl in the land of happily ever after. Then she stumbled upon a cottage in the enchanted forest and found a magical rock that granted any wish desired. Eventually, she wished to marry a prince. At this point, a deep voice joined me and I looked back to smile at Harry. I happily let him finish the story with the girl marrying the dashing prince of her dreams; he was still a commoner of course.

Her eyes got heavy and eventually closed.

Harry wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my head. “I love you so much.”

The smile was unstoppable. “I love you so much.”

These were the moments to look out for at any time; apocalypse or not.

***

Zombies have been curing themselves… Finding loved ones… Small talk… and not attacking… Humans and cured zombies work together to kill those who cannot turn back.

I gasped at what I heard the man said on the radio. Slowly, all of our defenses were coming back. And our zombie patrolling had been cut down. It looked like a ghost town outside with random carcasses disintegrating into the ground though. It would take more than us under this roof to get them all removed. The smell seemed like it would be permanent.

“Hey John.” I looked over at a mostly human brother now. His skin and eyes reverted back to normal; other things like his hair or nails would take a lot more time, if they would regrow at all. His speech was still slow.

He grunted in place of asking ‘yeah?’

I rolled my eyes. “Did you ever see Leo?” I hoped every day since we came across John that Leo would somehow show up. If it happened to be the same way, we would make it work.

“No.” He shook his head. It made my heart drop.

“Okay.” I gave him a small smile.

A rapping noise filled my ears and everyone in the living room shot each other questioning looks. Harry stood, picking up his shotgun on his way to the front door. I stood up myself and went to go stand by the stairway. He peeked out the peephole, then he looked back at me in pure shock. “It’s Leo.”

My eyes went wide. I ran to jump onto Harry’s back so I could look out the peephole. There Leo was. He finally got to us. I slid down Harry’s back and unlocked the front door. As I finally got it open, I saw a zombie coming up behind Leo.

Harry was quick to fire, cutting it close; the bullet zipped past Leo’s ear and went into the zombie’s forehead. It was a one and two count fall.

“Holy shit!” Leo exclaimed.

I smirked. “Bye bye zombie.”

I pulled Leo into the house, then into a hug. I let Harry take care of the door as I ushered Leo into the living room.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” I announced.

Everyone erupted into cheers and Leo was greeted with hugs.

I looked back at Harry as he joined us. He walked over to me and encased me in his arms.

“Thanks.” I kissed his bicep. I watched as the other four caught up. Leo was making dramatic motions, which meant he was most likely telling his story of how he got here. I overheard the fact he’d traveled with a few other strangers and there was no way he would’ve made it without them. They didn’t have a lot of weapons at first so they had to risk raiding stores.

“Hey,” Harry whispered into my ear. “How about we go join them?”

A small smile crossed my face as I turned around to pull him into the living room.

Honestly, I was fairly content right now. As far as we knew, this whole zombie apocalypse could be over soon. And everything could go back to somewhat normal. Harry and I could change our full focus to Harmony. We would have to deal with Lela and Ellise’s rotting corpses on the front once offically safe though. It only felt morally right to give them a proper burial.

It would definitely be another new normal to get accustomed to.

That therapy was going to really come in handy. And as soon as possible.

[Masterlist]

[Other Masterlist]

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fic #comedy #romance #drama #zombies #zombie apocalypse #supernatural #fanfiction #fic

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gayregis · 4 years

Text

angouleme can have little a avuncular guidance. as a treat ... heres some semblance of a compilation of regis being a guardian to angouleme, things i think about . both funnie and sad moments included i think

angouleme sneaks out at night to get into trouble / does other questionable things around the palace nocturnally, regis always catches her and it’s always on accident since they just have very similar time schedules. angouleme stares at him intensely in “oh fuck i just got caught” like O_O for a good 30 seconds EVERY time this happens but regis is just like :| and shrugs saying “i didn’t see anything, i’m a human, i can’t see at night or whatever” and walks off. also the next morning geralt always questions him as to what angouleme was doing, if he saw her when he was coming home, and regis always denies knowledge or says smth along the lines of “i’m not a narc, geralt :/”

angouleme yelling/losing her shit/saying wildly inappropriate things ... regis produces a ye olde granola bar from his bag and gives it to her and she quiets down immediately and is like :) content eating the granola bar. you can also substitute the granola bar with a bag of baby carrots.

similarly angouleme saying crazy shit and geralt telling her to be quiet and asking regis to recount this instead and regis says something incredibly similar/the exact same

that one time that milva was teaching angouleme to shoot and angouleme clear missed the target and got regis instead and actually for the first time was incredibly upset and regretful and guilty that she had inflicted pain and potentially death upon someone and was very worried and apologetic and ashamed ... but also when regis inevitably just plucks out the arrow and hands it back to her and says “oh i think this is yours” angouleme is like wait so he litcherally cant be killed... this is epic

basically angouleme who’s been abandoned having an immortal protector and mentor. peace

as i said in the tags of this post here: regis comes of as so peaceful as an individual that at first angouleme resents him a little, because she associates peace with arrogance... like, oh youre content with your life and dont hate yourself? so you think youre better than me? fucker. and she’s so used to asshole men being creeps in her life that this company still seems really bizarre in the regard that none of these men are dangerous. but then she learns about what ... who ... regis was in the past and she realizes that they’re similar, and then does the math and realizes that maybe one day she’ll also find this inner peace and can stop hating herself so much for the things she’s done and the things that have happened to her. angouleme not feeling as though she's so alone and such a fuckup that only she could ever get into such a mess like this... i feel like she has an unhealthy amount of survivor’s guilt, as in she blames herself for not dying while everyone else in her band did, and she also feels like what the world has given her she deserved because she was a fundamentally bad person from birth bc of her status, and that she will be stuck in this violent hellscape of a life forever and thats just how it is and she has to continue violence... but i think when she meets regis (and also milva) she realizes that violence does not need to be a cycle and change is possible.

also in the tags of that post: i think... regis developing more understanding/empathy and putting ethical philosophy into actual practice where it actually has stakes (haha haha haha stakes haha haha haha haha haha). i think in the hansa he learns what humanity actually means

also bc vampires just... do not parent, it’s not in their culture to, regis learning what guardianship actually means and growing into this position where he protects this child and begins to understand humanity on this deeper level of the feeling of protecting a child, because that’s very human, valuing and protecting the progenity for a new generation is incredibly human

also geralt arguing with regis that “humans don’t regrow their heads” so he can’t just be supporting her doing all sorts of dumb shit just bc he did it and he turned out alright... they kind of have to argue on how to parent i’m saying bc again vampire parenting is not much parenting at all. just let them go wild what’s the worst that could happen... they’ll learn sort of thing. so regis has to confront the idea of human fragility and mortality

i think regis also learns from angouleme in that it’s very easy to hate and loathe your past self and curse your past self, asking “what could i have possibly been thinking, what an idiotic thing to do...” when your past self was not actually devoid of any redeemable qualities and was actually just misguided and without hope... regis condemns his past self quite harshly but because he would never admonish angouleme in such a way i think he realizes that the self-loathing is excessive and unproductive and potentially harmful

i said this in a post already, but geralt is overflowing with fatherly vibes and milva is also stern so i think there is a lot of value in regis to angouleme , in that she can tell him practically anything and he won’t get on her case for it . she finds this kind of amnesty in him whereas with the other members of the hansa they’d freak and start asking her all these questions. regis is just like “hm ok” and maybe discusses a little but doesn’t give her shit for it. this allows angouleme to confide a lot of stuff that she wouldn’t normally feel safe to tell someone else, and also probably gets her out of a lot of trouble bc someone (a very powerful someone) will know where she is and what she’s doing... so if she gets into trouble, she has a lifeline

this also means she can tell him a lot of funnie stories that she doesn’t have to stop herself with because “was gonna say smth funny and then remembered it involved murder.” also regis has like a thousand stories too obviously so he counters her wild tales with smth even crazier and then they’ll try to compete for a bit like “well ONE TIME i...” but angouleme actually always wins and neither knows how she does

surgery lessons, or basically regis was sewing someone up and angouleme invaded the scene going “can i watch can i watch”

also alchemy lessons, which turns into basically “so that’s how you make fisstech... interesting”

i think also in these mentorships regis quizzes her lightly like “and what reactions does this species of plant produce in the human body...?” and angouleme says the right answer, “oh they drop dead” and regis is like “very good!” and angouleme kind of goes insane with happiness a little at being called ‘good’ / being praised by a parental figure for maybe like one of the first times in her life. similarly, i think regis would attest to angouleme’s character at the breakfast table in discussions, and say things like “well our angouleme is very smart” and she’d be like >:3!!!

as in canon, adopting each other’s speech mannerisms... not just regis adopting angouleme’s unique phrases, but i would also like to think abt angouleme saying smth pseudo-philosophical to throw someone off of her tracks... like “so, i owe you money... but what is the concept of debt and ownership, anyways? isn’t it all just a construct by society? by humanity?” and then she bolts and evades her creditors

regis trying to teach angouleme stuff and then being like “oh wait i forgot you can’t fly, hmm... ” “oh wait i forgot you can’t hypnotize people, hmm....... that complicates things...” ... jokes on regis though bc apparently angouleme can scale buildings and talk her way out of a lot of situations, so that’s almost as good as flight and hypnosis

im trying to not be sad rn but i think regis would be a very good person to cry on. like his cloak is very soft. and he smells like herbs. so there you go. but i think also angouleme having a breakdown would be cathartic for both of them because angouleme realizes that she’s being vulnerable around an adult and she isn’t afraid of them and regis realizes that he has a responsibility to not treat physical wounds, but rather to treat emotional ones and that’s infinitely more difficult

i think angouleme would have breakdowns to regis about: her family/her mother, geralt taking her into the hansa but she feels like he probably just sees her as a replacement daughter, i think also she gets into too much trouble one night and regis has to get her out of trouble and she kind of just breaks down because her life is crazy and has always been crazy and there’s no way out because this is all she has

i think angouleme also gets pretty upset at seeing children/teens with “perfect lives,” like she just gets crazy bitter about it... and there’s no shortage of nobility around the palace, so she’s constantly reminded of her background. i think regis’s not-being-a-human-isms and philosophy that stems from an immortal perspective that all humans are equal in life and death can help with this. but also he kind of has to learn that you can’t just talk about smth abt society or the past that is fucked up and solve it by having had said it... it will always remain an issue...

i also think that regis has his ravens scout around for angouleme’s lost pendant with a sea-cat on it, but when she gets it back she gets mad and says that she doesn’t want it because she doesn’t want to be reminded of her mother, regis is like “ok” but angouleme is still mad, she realizes she’s mad because she doesn;t think that regis realizes that he’s actually become more of a guardian to her than her biological mother was, and tries to provoke him but regis is unprovokable ofc so he’s like hm explain that and angouleme just spills her emotions

to bring this back to happy i think they could also prank geralt pretty hard. and or eavesdrop. plus there will be times like where angouleme is waiting by a door trying to listen in and straining and regis stands like 3 feet from the door and hears everything perfectly, just recites it all aloud and she’s like oh this is so much easier.

also once angouleme was eavesdropping on geralt and dandelion arguing and regis approached and was like “angouleme :/” and angouleme was like >:/ “get out of here i’m tryna eavesdrop” and regis was like “there’s a more professional way to do this” and disappears through the door, angouleme is like “showoff!” ... geralt smells sage and throws a moon dust bomb at him and regis coughs up silver shards for the rest of the day. also when angouleme hears the explosion she jumps in, so this was a failed attempt all around

#angouleme #regis #the witcher #sorry for longpost.........

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fanficsaremylifeline · 4 years

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Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Summary:

Tired of Tony and Steve's constant fighting and bickering, the other Avengers sentence them to couple's therapy.

***

“DAMN YOU, STARK!”

Ugh, it was way to early for this, Tony was only two coffees in and dealing with Steve required at least two more cups. His holy coffein intake didn't seem to matter to Steve though, as he came storing into the living room, interrupting Tony and Rhodey's highly intelligent discussion about Jeopardy.

“What?”, Tony shot over; he was however pretty sure that he didn't want to know and most certainly didn't care.

“When the milk is empty, just throw the damn carton out! Is that so hard?”, Steve moaned and gestured around with the empty carton.

“And who says it was me?” Steve was completely right, it had been Tony. But before he'd admit to that, hell'd freeze over.

“Please, can we not argue about it like five-year olds? Just throw out the milk so I know to get a new one.” With a sigh and an exasperated and frankly quite condescending eye roll that Tony did not miss, Steve turned and walked out again.

“For fuck's sake”, Rhodey groaned, once the door had closed behind the super soldier. “Correct me if I'm wrong, JARVIS, but that puts the milk-fights somewhere in the mid-twenties, right?”

“It was indeed the 26th time Stark and Rogers have fought over the milk”, JARVIS reported. “Add that to the 19 discussions about profanity, 23 about appropriate levels of music during night time, 11 about Star Wars, 17 about Star Wars before Captain Rogers had seen them, 28 about how to make proper coffee, 24 about cars vs motorbikes, 16 about Monopoly and 8 about how to pronounce GIF. Together that makes 172 in the last 16 days.”

“You kept fucking count?”, Tony groaned. “you Rainman...”

“No, not Rainman. I currently feel like something between Ms Doubtfire and Mary Poppins. So either you two get your shit together or I'll turn all Nurse Ratchett/ Ms Trunchbull on your asses, capiche?”

“Yes, Mum...”

“Just get your damn coffee”, Rhodey grumbled and turned his attention back to the rerun of Jeopardy.

“Ok, but hear me out.” Tony pulled up the holographic model to show Bruce what he was talking about. “If we manage a miniscule version of the arc reactor, the Hulkbuster wouldn't be just some giant armour, but could fulfil some minor automated functions.”

“What kind of automation are we talking about here?” Having that powerful a reactor comprised into something that was supposed to take down Hulk, without blowing up an entire city block... Bruce wasn't too sure about that.

“Mostly for movement. We're talking about copious amounts of weight here, and without some form of automation, Thor'll be the only one who can actually move in it.”

“Yeah, I get that. It's just... Does it have to be arc-technology? Last time it was Hulk against Ironman, I almost blew up half of New York and was this close to giving you a heart attack.”

“But that's why we need to make it smaller so...”

“TONY!”

Ugh, not again. Steve stormed into the workshop and stared Tony down.

“Steve, please. Me and Tony are very busy and...”

The super soldier barely graced Bruce with as much as a fleeting glance and pointed right at Stark. “Next time you're hungry, stay the hell away from my leftovers!”

“Right, because I would voluntarily eat your sprouts with cabbage and shit”, Tony scoffed and turned back to the Hulkbuster model.

“Every time I put my name on it. And of all the Avengers you're the only one disrespectful enough to ignore that.”

“Oh, so now I'm disrespectful?”

That was it for Bruce. Those two could continue for hours like that and Bruce was not gonna do that to himself. And, as much as hulking out might help to get those two idiots in line, Bruce really was not keen on doing that either.

Neither seemed to notice him leaving the lab and after the door had closed behind him, Bruce leaned with a heavy sigh against the wall. “JARVIS? What's the count?”

“193.”

“Boss, your presence is required in the briefing room.”

“Oh, come on.” Tony hated being interrupted mid-project with a passion. “Scale 1-10 how important is it?”

“According to Agent Romanoff it is at a 17.”

“Fine”, he groaned, put the wrench down and trudged upstairs. It couldn't be an imminent mission, JARVIS hadn't sounded any alarms, so there was probably no need to worry.

Or maybe there was, at least judging how all the Avengers stood around the table, eyeing him sternly.

“Where's the fire?”

“For weeks, you and Rogers have been at each other's throats”, Clint began, and Tony was already done.

“Right then.” Tony turned on his heel and walked back towards the door. The locked door. “What the fuck, J? Unlock the door!”

“I am not authorized to do that.”

“Excuse me?” Tony stared at the camera. “You are my AI. My command trumps every other command you're given.”

“Not if I deem it crucial.”

“Traitor!”, he hissed before turning back to the Avengers. “Taking over my AI comes with dire consequen...”

“Shut it, Stark”, Nat interrupted and motioned for him to sit back down next to Cap.

His hands raised in mock-defense, he complied.

“And now listen, both of you. Your bickering is making everybody miserable.”

“Amen to that”, Wanda threw in.

“We're not that bad”, Steve stated, and Tony nodded along.

“JARVIS?”

“In the last 4 weeks alone have been 256 incidents. This number accounts only for altercations within proximity to the tower and all tech linked to my server.”

Granted, Tony got how that might be annoying. However... “That is so not on me.”

“Excuse me?” Steve turned to Tony, pure offence written all over his features. “Clearly the team cannot excuse your behaviour or they...”

“It's on you both”, Natasha made clear. “And everybody suffers for it. So you left us with no choice: you're being sentenced to couples therapy.”

“No.” Both Tony and Steve stared at her with wide eyes, their jaws on the ground.

“You can't be serious”, Tony protested once he caught himself again. “We do not need therapy!”

“Tony's right”, Steve nodded.

“See?” Tony gestured between himself and Rogers. “We're agreeing on something! There's absolutely no need for any type of counselling.”

“Your opinion doesn't matter”, Banner made clear.

“Yes, it does! I run this damn team.”

“And I finance this damn team”, Tony finished Steve's reasoning.

“As your doctors, me and Helen already signed off on it. And so has Fury. You're going and that's it.”

Fuck. Tony slumped back in his chair. Therapy. With Rogers.

“Everything is handled with utmost discretion”, Vision explained. “The SHIELD-approved psychologist has already signed a NDA and should arrive at the tower as we speak.”

“THE FUCK?”, Tony yelled out, “our appointment is NOW?”

“So neither of you can weasel out of it”, Rhodey shrugged.

That was the worst part about all this: his honey-bear being part of all this. It felt even worse than JARVIS being part of this conspiracy.

“Fine”, Steve just groaned, “Let's get this over with.” With that he got up, looking at Tony all expectantly until he too, followed suit.

“Conference Room C”, Nat fake-smiled and waved them away.

Tony was in no hurry to get there any time soon and inspected the spectacularly unspectacular white walls of the hallway.

“Come on!”, Steve complained.

“Why?”

“Because we shouldn't let the doctor wait!”

“I couldn't give less of a fuck about that doc or your annoying need to be perfectly on time.”

With an eye roll, Steve just turned and strutted off towards the conference room. Fine with Tony; he could very well do without the nagging.

He was gonna get them back; Nat, Rhodey, Clint, all of them. And if it was the last thing he'd ever do; Tony was gonna get his revenge.

Mark was nervous, immensely so. He was about to start counselling Captain America and Ironman! How in the name of everything that was good and holy in the world was this real life?

It was incredibly bizarre; as a kid he had collected the Captain America baseball cards and just two weeks ago he gifted his son the newest Ironman action figure; his daughter never went to sleep is she didn't have the Avengers-blankie.

But there wasn't time for more than two deep breaths, the door opened and in walked Captain America. Keep it together!

“Hello, Mr Rogers, the name is Mark Simmons; it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he smiled and shook the outstretched hand. “Please excuse my partner's tardiness; it's his form of protest.”

“Don't pretend like you want to be here”, Stark scoffed as he walked through the door, before he turned to Mark. “Good day, doctor. Just so you know, up until ten minutes ago, neither of us knew about this...” - he waved his hands around, gesturing between the three men - “arrangement. And to be perfectly honest, neither of us really fancies the idea of therapy.”

“Your honesty is appreciated”, Mark smiled. “Since I'm already here though...” He motioned for the two to sit down and, less willingly than anything else, they complied.

“Well, since neither of you know what to expect from me or our meetings, let me explain what it is I do. My name is Mark Simmons and I specialize in business psychology; you could say couple's therapy for a co-workers. What I'm here to do, is to get the communication going.”

“Oh there is no issue there”, Tony rolled his eyes. “This one's more than vocal about what I apparently keep on doing wrong.”

“Not apparently”, Steve hissed.

“It doesn't seem to bother the others.”

Oh dear. Not even five minutes in and Mark already feared the worst; this would be a tough one.

“I understand that your situation is a difficult one”, he commented, when he finally got a word in, “since you not only work but also live together. But that's why it is important for us to get to the bottom of it all, of where all this tension stems from.”

“We don't like each other”, Stark shrugged”, what more is there to it?”

“More than you'd think. I do need to say right away that this will only work if you are honest with me and each other. In return I assure you that I will be transparent about any and all methods and intentions.”

“That does sound reasonable”, Rogers nodded. Still, even though he seemed to be more open to the whole idea than Stark, the Captain was just as apprehensive; he just tried to hide it.

“No promises”, Stark made clear and Mark could only smile.

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr Stark.”

“Tony.”

“Right then. If you'd be willing I would like to hear some of the typical arguments you have, so I can get a better picture of the situation.”

“Ask JARVIS, he keeps a log”, Tony snorted.

“It is not my job to counsel JARVIS” - whoever that was - “you two are my clients, so it's from you I'd like to hear it.”

“He's just got one to many sticks up his ass”, Tony shrugged and toyed around with a screwdriver he got out his jeans pocket.

“No, he's just a sloppy and spoiled prat, who never learned how to share and live with others.”

“I am not sloppy! I mean sure, I can get sloppy in bed...” He left the rest unsaid, and a smug grin played over his lips.

“You see”, Steve groaned, “everything is a joke to him! I – honest to God – can't remember if I've ever had a serious conversation with you.”

“Well, maybe I don't want to have a serious conversation with you”, Stark shot back.

“Well, doctor”, Steve forced a smile, “I guess there you have it.”

Wow. This was gonna be just great.

“Hey Tones.” Rhodey, that traitor, walked into the lab and shot Tony the smuggest grin. “How was your first session with Dr Simmons?”

“You're an asshole”, Tony grumbled and turned his attention back to the motor he was repairing.

“Thanks dear, I love you, too.”

“Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?” Tony must have looked sufficiently pissed off, since the smugness in Rhodey's look changed to something sombre.

“Me and the rest of the team were thinking that whatever is going on between you and Rogers can't continue like this. It's breaking the team and it's breaking the two of you as well. So you're gonna deal with it.”

“And what if I don't?”

“Then we're gonna lock you two in a room with Hulk.”

“Proactive choice. Just gotta warn you: this is gonna end in disaster.”

“Can't be worse than it is now.”

“So why don't you just throw the empty milk carton out?”

It's been thirty minutes and the two Avengers were still fighting over the damn milk. But, instead of giving Mark the chance to dig a little deeper and guide the conversation towards what really upset them, they kept on talking over him. If their last four sessions were anything to go by, they probably forgot Mark was there.

“I have more important things going on in my head to check if I finished the milk or whatever.”

“Right because it's too much to ask for you to take these three seconds to check that.”

“Yeah, but guess what, Rogers: I don't owe you shit.”

Ah, finally, they got to a bigger issue. For a few moments they just stared at each other, Tony's defiance head-on meeting Steve's confusion.

It was the super soldier that broke the silence. “That has nothing to do with me wanting you to do this for me. It's just the proper basis for a bunch of people living together.”

“And why am I the only one that gets your speeches? Clint drinks the juice right out of the container, Vision has zero instinct about privacy and walks right through walls, Thor eats everybody's pop tarts and I don't think I can recall a single time that Wanda cleaned the microwave. So please, Captain, what is it about me that is so unbearable or well, more so than the others?”

“Because you do it on purpose!”, Steve cried out. “All that bullshit didn't start until about two or three months ago. So what the hell changed that you felt the need to be such a pain?”

“Because I can't allow myself to like you.” Tony all but spat the words in Steve's face, got up and turned to Mark. “Thanks, doc. For everything.” Not sure whether it was meant sarcastically or not, Mark just stared after Ironman as he walked out.

“Well”, he eventually cleared his throat. “I guess we can stop talking about milk, leftovers and swearing.”

“Yeah...” Until now, Steve had stared at the closed door, only now he turned to Mark. “Let's just hope he shows up next time...”

He didn't.

But Steve hadn't really expected anything else. All week, Tony had kept away from Steve, not once did they run into each other.

After Tony missed another appointment, Steve got worried. Fine, he had been worried ever since Tony had told him that he couldn't like him, but now he allowed the worry to come through.

“Bruce?” The scientist was – as he had been for the last few days – by himself in the lab.

“Steve, hey”, Bruce smiled and waved for Steve to come inside. “What's going on?”

“Have you seen Tony these last few days?”

“Of course not”, Bruce chuckled, “he's in his house in Malibu.”

“Wait, what?” Steve couldn't help his face from dropping.

“Yeah, he said something about some issues with the LA branch of SI.”

“Oh. Right then. Thanks.” With an awkward wave, Steve turned and walked out, as Bruce's concerned looked burned into the back of his head.

Right, SI LA needed its boss every now and again; it made plenty of sense for Tony having to go there somewhat spontaneously.

Something in Steve's gut felt so very off about it though. Disappearing from one moment to the next, not even cancelling their sessions with Dr Simmons... Something was not right and Steve felt somewhat responsible.

Unfortunately, very impulsively so; as much as he hated flying, Steve found himself in the next machine to California.

All through the flight, he had thought about what he wanted to say, but now that a cleaning lady, Miriam, led him through the villa, his head was pretty empty.

In a wide light-filled room, Tony sat on the floor, screwing around with something that looked like it had once been part of an Ironmansuit.

“Tony.”

“Rogers, what the fuck do you want?” Stark didn't even look up.

“I want to check on you.”

“Could've just called.”

“Would you have picked up?”

“Probably not”, he admitted, still not gracing Steve with as much as a fleeting glance. “Thanks for flying out though and have a safe journey back to New York.”

“Tony, I'm not leaving until you talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”, Stark groaned, threw the wrench on the ground and glared at Steve. “Seriously, what do you need to hear to fuck off?”

“The truth.”

“How original.” With a roll of his eyes, Tony got up and wiped the oil off his hands. Steve doubted it was of use, the rag that had probably once been white was almost black by now.

“Tony, please.”

“Why?” He strutted right up to Steve but he wasn't about to let himself be intimidated. “Why do you care?”

“I care about you and our team. And I thought we have gotten close, I do consider you a friend. And that's why I care about you.”

After staring at Steve for a few moments, Tony dropped his head. “Fuck”, he mumbled. “Right here goes. I'm sorry for screwing with you these last weeks. It was all my fault and I'll be good from now on and we no longer need to deal with the shrink. Deal?”

“No”, Steve made clear. “I flew to LA so we can work on what has the entire team upset and isn't good for the two of us either. So tell me, what I can do to make you more comfortable around me, and I'll gladly do it.” He took two careful steps towards Tony. “Please.”

“I appreciate that, but there's nothing you can do.”

“You said you can't allow yourself to like me.”

When Tony stayed silent, Steve continued: “Is it because of Howard?” It had to be, Tony's Dad was the only thing that connected them profoundly enough for Tony to hate Steve.

“What do you think?”, Tony scoffed. “The great and amazing Captain America, Howard's greatest ever creation, I just never could measure up to.”

“Tony, I'm so sorry...”

“Can it”, Tony interrupted him, “because it's not your fault. You were dead then, it had nothing to do with you and everything with Howard being the worst.”

Wow.

“But you don't want to end up like your Dad, so you forbade yourself to like me”, Steve finished the explanation and interpreted Tony's shrug as affirmation of his assumption. “So why be a pain in my ass then?” This part, Steve didn't really get: Tony could just stay away from Steve, the Tower gave more than enough opportunities for that.

“Just because”, Tony mumbled, as he actually blushed. What the hell? As hard as he tried, Steve couldn't remember Tony Stark ever being flushed.

“That's not an answer.” Steve was aware that he was entering dangerous territory; a cornered Tony was even more dangerous than he normally was. But what was the alternative? Him and Tony just avoiding each other, pushing it all way down until it all blew up in their faces?

“Rogers, please...” Tony's voice went softer, almost a whisper, the exact opposite of how Steve had expected Tony to react.

“Tony, you're seriously worrying me.” Steve took another step towards Tony, who looked like he just wanted to bolt. “Please, what's bothering you?”

“You are, damnit!”, Tony yelled out. “The fact that you're nothing like the damn asshole I pictured you to be throughout my childhood. The fact that you're actually a pretty great guy. The fact that I like you, no, that I like you too damn much.”

Steve couldn't follow. The part about Tony's childhood and Howard, he got. But the almost desperate look in Tony's eyes... “I get that all that, with me, Howard was, or still is...” At Tony's exasperated face drop Steve halted mid-sentence. Was he missing something? Judging by the way Tony looked at him, he probably did.

“You really don't get it, Rogers, do you?”

His meek shrug was only met with a Stark-typical eye-roll.

And then everything seemed to happen at once. With two big steps, Tony closed the last bit of distance between them, grabbed Steve by the shirt collar, pulled him down and pressed their lips together.

And Steve's mind just went blank. Of all the things he'd expect Tony to do... This was not one of them. Frozen in shock, Steve could do nothing but let Stark kiss him.

“Here you go”, Tony shrugged, once he broke away and took two steps back. “Now if you'd please fuck off, I'd be very grateful.” With that he turned and motioned to walk off.

“Tony, wait.” Steve heard himself speak, before he realized he had done it. But it was all so very much in a haze, and Steve wouldn't bet a lot on this being real life and not just a dream, so before he knew it really happened, he grabbed Tony's arm, pulled him back and immediately their lips met again.

After a few shocked moments, Tony's arms wrapped themselves around Steve's shoulders.

Steve had no idea what was really happening, but he didn't care, because it felt amazing. It was electrified, passionate and all the little things that irked them about each other seemed to vanish, making room for desire to run wild.

“Rogers”, Tony mumbled after a while, “what is...”

“Shut up”, Steve shot back, not in the mood for talking.

“Works for me”, Stark chuckled, and, with his hand on Steve's neck, he pulled him down and deepened the kiss even more.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Did Steve care? Fuck, no.

When Steve woke up the next morning, he wasn't quite sure where he was. He definitely didn't know this enormous bed, and these silky bed sheets were not to his taste.

Oh. Right. He was in LA. In Tony's bed. And very naked.

Shit.

What was more, he was alone in Tony's oversized bed. There was no genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but a note.

Steve,

sorry, had to dash. Help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen, if you want.

I'll see you in New York.

Shit. With a loud groan, Steve fell back into the cushions. What did he think? He didn't, that was just it. Or he thought with the wrong body part. Sure, it felt good, very much so. Kissing someone hadn't felt that good ever since he kissed Peggy. And then... Passion just took over.

That was admittedly the weird part, Steve wasn't someone who just let himself run over with desire and just jumped right into bed with whoever kissed him. Well, he and Tony had a lot of pent up tension between them and now they just had the need to get it all out.

I'll see you in New York.

Well, maybe things would be a little more relaxed between them from now on. But Steve doubted that.

“Omigod”, Nat sighed, “I can't believe I'm saying this but I liked it so much better when they were fighting.”

“Tell me about it.” Clint fell down next to her on the couch. “The way Cap just silently stares at Stark is seriously creepy and so awkward.”

“And Stark barely ever talks any more when Steve is in the room and flees as soon as he's got the chance”, Wanda observed.

“If it weren't those two, I'd say they're boning”, Clint giggled, until he stopped dead. “Omigod. Do you think that Steve and Tony...”

The assembled Avengers just looked at each other with wide eyes.

“It would explain so much”, Nat eventually broke the silence.

“All that bickering and fighting is just unresolved sexual tension”, Bruce commented.

“We gotta fix them!”

“Right”, Nat scoffed, “because they both would react so positively to us walking up to them and telling them to bone.”

“Maybe we should stick them back in therapy.”

“Because that went over so well the last time.”

“What then?” Rhodey looked around the group. “There's gotta be something we can do!”

“We'll leave that to you”, Nat suggested, “you're the only one who can get through to Tony.”

With a ping the elevator doors opened and Rhodey walked into the penthouse, already dreading in what state he was about to find his friend. “Tones? You in here?”

“Platypus!”, Tony beamed and staggered towards him with wide open arms. Shit. He was really hammered.

“Here”, he handed Rhodey a bottle, clearly not realizing that it was already empty. “Drink with me!”

“How about we switch to water?”, he suggested and took the still half-full bottle of whiskey out of Tony's hand.

“You're so boring”, Tony moped and walked over to the kitchen cabinet, where he got another bottle. “So boring”, he repeated after a generous sip. “Just like Steve. He's so stupid and boring.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gently, Rhodey guided Tony to a couch and all but pushed him down. “I'm not worried about Rogers, though.”

“You should...”

“Nah, I'm only responsible to look after you.”

“I'm fine”, Tony claimed, however swaying and slurring a lot more than fine would suggest.

“I know you are. That's why you ran off to LA, avoid Steve since you're back, lock yourself in up here and drink that much again.”

“I'm really fine”, Tony repeated. “Look!” He T-posed and shot him a kissy-face. “I'm so good.”

“Right, then you won't mind talking to Steve, would you?”

“But I don't want to.” Not unlike a child throwing a hissy fit, Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest; all that was missing was Tony sticking his tongue out at Rhodey.

Well, if Tony was gonna act like a four-year-old, then Rhodey'd pack out his parental voice. “And why don't you want to talk to him?”

Thankfully, he was too drunk to pick up on James' condescending tone. “Because he's stupid.”

“And why is he stupid?”

“Because he is.”

“Tony.” This was gonna be a tough one.

“Rhodey”, he mocked him.

“Well, if you're fine, then I can go.” He got up off the couch and, as he had expected, he couldn't get two steps until Tony stopped him.

“Don't go”, he mumbled, grabbed his arm and pulled him back on the couch.

“Alright, I'll stay”, James smiled. “You gonna tell me what has you upset though?”

Tony clutched a pillow and looked down on the floor. “We... we had sex.”

“You did what?” Oh damn. They were right, the Avengers were damn right about them.

“He... He just didn't get it, so I showed him. And then he kissed me back. And then...” Instead of finishing his sentence, Tony took another sip from his bottle.

Well, damn.

“Sounds to me like you and Steve have quite a bit to talk about...”

“Talking fucking sucks”, Tony groaned and slumped against Rhodey's side.

“It helps though”, he shrugged and put his arm around Tony's shoulder.

“Still sucks”, he mumbled and snuggled into the embrace.

Rhodey had lived through enough of Tony's drinking sessions to know that a) Tony was about to fall asleep, that b) Rhodey would not be able to move until he woke up again, that c) the chances of getting thrown up on were at least in the high seventies and that d) this disaster human being was his absolute favourite person in the entire world.

“I love you, Tones.”

“I love you too, Honey-bear.”

5 days. 5 days since Steve had flown to LA to confront Tony about their 'situation'. 5 days, since Tony had grabbed his shirt and kissed him. 5 days, since Steve kissed him back. 5 days, since Steve had just about the best night ever. 5 days, in which Steve couldn't think about anything else than the surprisingly soft lips, the taste of coffee, the strong hands on his body and most of all, how good being with Tony had felt.

And with all that came a realization: that flutter in his stomach that came every time Steve was around Tony was not dread, awkwardness or anything like that, it were the butterflies in his stomach going into overdrive.

When Steve finally gathered enough courage to talk to Tony, he ended up standing in front of a locked door.

“I'm sorry, boss has restricted access to anyone.”

“JARVIS, please.” In the worry about his friend, Steve didn't give too much thought to him currently trying to reason with a bodiless robot. “You can't tell me that he's doing alright. Let me please talk to him.”

“Since he is not in imminent physical danger, I am not authorized to ignore boss' orders.”

“Is he drinking?”

“Yes.”

“With his history, it's more than dangerous for him to be locked up all by himself with these amounts of alcohol, don't you agree?”

“I do”, he admitted and the door opened for him.

“Thanks, JARVIS, you're the best.”

“Tony?”

Damnit. JARVIS was really keen on disobeying all of Tony's orders, was he? “One of these days”, he groaned towards the general direction of the camera, “I'll donate you to a high school.”

“I believe my fosterlings there would be less determined to kill themselves and be more grateful for my unwavering support.”

“You sure as fuck aren't supporting me”, Tony hissed, as Steve walked all through the penthouse in search of him. If Tony was lucky, Rogers would respect the sanctity of the bedroom, where Tony had created a make-shift workstation on and around the bed.

“I have your best interests at heart, even if you might not realize it.”

For fuck's sake.

“Tony?”, Steve called again, closing in on Tony's location.

“He is in the bedroom”, JARVIS announced and boy, if looks could kill, Tony would have to install new security cameras.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever”, Tony grumbled and the door opened to the sight of a nervous Steve.

“Hi.”

“Rogers, I don't know what went wrong with you that you can't seem to get I don't want to see you.” Tony didn't even bother with looking up at Steve and hoped to whoever was in charge of hurried prayers that the super soldier would see it as nonchalant and not recognize the pained insecurity. Which, by the way, fucking sucked.

All of this, of what happened these last few weeks, months, fucking sucked.

It started to suck, when Tony got to know Steve for who he really was: not the absolute pinnacle of American perfection who Tony would never be able to measure up to, but instead.... Sure, Steve was all that, but so much more.

As much as Tony pretended to be exasperated and annoyed by his in all honesty at times pathetic tries to catch up to modern technology, his determination was really commendable and quite adorable. Same with his annoying righteousness; knowing about Steve what Tony knew now, he could recognize and appreciate how passionate Rogers was about the things most important to him. And that undying loyalty... But not – as Tony had thought – to the US army, the government and blindly following orders, but to the people closest to him. Even to Tony. Who had been quite the dick. But even though he didn't understand a word of it, Rogers often listened to Tony's engineering rants. And listening to Steve going on and on about injustice or whatever, Tony just got roped in by that seemingly boundless passion.

And with all that wrapped up in *that* package... Yeah, Tony really had fallen for Steve. And he hated himself for it.

Why of all people did it have to be Captain America that made Tony's heart skip a fucking beat? And why in the name of Edwin Jarvis did Tony 'confess'? Why couldn't he have just stuck to the fucking plan, ride these damn feelings out and be enough of a pain so Steve would hate him?

But no, Mr Impulsivity just couldn't leave well enough alone and keep it in his damn pants, could he?

“I'm sorry, Tony”, Steve eventually apologized.

“For what?” For being a giant idiot, who didn't get what was going on? For pushing what should have been left alone and thusly making everything a million times worse?

“Yes, to all of those.”

Tony didn't even realize he had said all this out loud, but whatever. Not like all this could be even more fucked up...

“But there's a bit more I need to apologize for.” Almost cautious was Steve's movement as he walked up to Tony, who sat on the bed. “I'm sorry that I'm so slow and dumb when it comes to feelings. I'm sorry I brushed all of your actions off as you being nothing more than a childish pain in my ass and some other choice words I feel like leaving out of this right now”, he chuckled and yes, that was indeed a blush creeping up Steve's face. “Because I know you're not like that.”

“Oh?”, Tony shot over, rife with sarcasm. “Then what am I like?”

Steve locked eyes with Tony, sincere and earnest. “You're so generous, intelligent, caring, admittedly quite funny and supportive of everybody important to you. I know you like to play all that down, hide behind the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist tag, but that's all it is. A tag. But that passion, that fire... You light up every room you enter and that's not because of your genius-billionaire-bullshit, it's because of your big heart.”

Huh.

As much as he hated to admit it, Tony was speechless and could only stare at Steve with wide open eyes.

“And I'm especially sorry that it took me so damn long to realize that all that has roped me in long ago.” Steve scooted closer, bringing them mere centimetres apart. “It took LA to make me understand that this weird feeling in my stomach whenever you're around, had nothing to do with dislike or annoyance. More like the exact opposite.” As he spoke, Steve's voice went quieter as he leaned in closer, and before Tony could compute any of this, Steve's lips were on his.

“What the fuck?”

When Nat opened the door to the kitchen, she couldn't quite believe what she saw: Tony, making coffee and Steve's arms wrapped around his waist, with his head rested on Tony's shoulder.

“Hi Natasha, want a cup?”, Tony asked, barely looking over.

“I'm good”, she waved him off and pulled Clint, whose jaw was still on the ground, to the table. “Let me guess, therapy did you two a world of good.”

“We might not be that pissed about it any more.” Tony turned around, and leaned against the somewhat blushing Steve.

“Thanks for forcing us to go”, he grinned.

“We told you.”

“Yeah... Guess that wouldn't make you the smartest person in this building after all...” Steve grinned over at Tony, who smacked Steve's side.

“It's definitely not you, I could have told you that long ago”, he shot back with a smirk.

“Oh really?” Steve raised his eyebrow and Nat felt like she was about to get sick.

“Oh god, what have we done”, Clint hissed over, staring wide-eyed at Tony and Steve. Flirting. Actually flirting.

“We've created a monster, that's what we did.”

#tony stark #ironman #steve rogers #captain america #rhodey #james rhodes #war machine #iron patriot #bruce banner #hulk #natasha romanoff black widow #clint barton hawkeye #wanda maximoff #scarlett witch #stony

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mystic-kitten-writer · 5 years

Text

Limerence [M] ︳11

Pairing: Zuko x OC

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 4100+

Notes: So this chapter doesn’t focus too much on Zuko and Yue as much as it focuses on someone else’s perspective - I wonder if you guys guessed right as to who this ‘secret woman’ was throughout the chapters - the next big mystery is figuring out who the male is. Enjoys <3

Masterlist ︳10 ︳ 12

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Tacenda

(Latin/n.) Things better left unsaid; not to be mentioned to the public.

~ Unknown ~

“What do you mean by ‘sent two messenger hawks back-to-back?’” She hissed with narrowed eyes towards the skittish man in front of her. He was already cowering away, fearful of who she might unleash her wrath upon. With a large gulp, he managed to find his voice again, “The-the maids! They said the first letter was a notice that Fire Lord would be arriving in a week from today, with a woman, some consort or something. But the next day he sent another letter that said the Earth King would be arriving here, so expect his arrival for tomorrow.”

The man quickly looked down at his feet, knowing that this was how he was going to die. But when a few moments passed, and she didn’t unleash her anger, he looked upwards to see her standing still in thought. ‘This’ was not what she expected when she arrived here. She already had her plan ready, and all she had to do was make sure that everything was ready for implementation for the arrival of her ‘friend.’ Clearly, that plan went to shits.

Yet another curious thought ran through her mind as she observed the sky, for the past few hours, since the moment they arrived yesterday, messenger hawks have been flying back and forth to the sea, most likely to his ship. But why? What could be so important that he feels the need to pass along documents in such a risky manner? Why was the Earth King showing face to the Fire Nation? There was an overwhelming amount of questions that seemed to be unanswerable.

“Continue blending in and get as much information as you can, all of you.” She said quickly, before turning on her heels and blending in with the greenery around her. She knew what she had to do, and with a tremendous and overwhelming hesitance, she made hast. It has been almost four, maybe five, years since she had last step foot in the Fire Nation after they finally found their mother. The very thought of seeing her mother again made her blood boil. She hated them, hated them all with a passion that just made her flames grow bluer by the second.

Mother never loved her, not like how she loved him. She always favoured him over her. ‘I was a monster in her eyes’ she thought as she found the secret path that led behind the palace. But that was the purpose of this whole plan, to make everyone realize that he was not any different from the rest of the family. That he was just as messed up and as monstrous as her. The thought of him losing everything, his position, family, friends, sent a euphoric rush to her that no amount of liquor, bloodshed, or drugs could do. It was never about killing him; it was always about seeing him fail.

So caught up in her thoughts she failed to realize that she was already at the edge of the palace walls, and with much ease, found the next hidden entrance inside. To her dismay, most of the entries were sealed off or left to collapse on its own, so she would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit surprised to find such a route still in relatively decent condition. With ease she slipped through and in moments found herself back in the palace hallways, adorned with precious gems and artworks. Despite the same coat of paint and rugs, everything felt different.

Carefully she hid behind a statue, as she observed a few maids and servants waltzing along the hallway, laughing and smiling, enjoying life. “So I found out her name; Ying Yue Jiang!” squealed a maid as she tightly snuggled onto another girl’s arm. They all looked at her in disbelief, “H-how did you find out her name already!?” The group said in unison. She simply shrugged her arms before continuing, “I have my ways, but I can’t wait till we meet her, rumours say she is a sweetheart.” She gushed, while the other two women giggled in unity. The man amongst them smiled and nodded along, “Anyone is better than Mai; she is such a grump.” The maids gasped and slapped the male’s shoulders, “It’s Countess Mai and don’t say stuff like that out loud! What if Fire Lord Zuko was here and heard?”

“Not like he would care, I think he hates her the most.”

They all looked at each and tried their hardest to wipe away the smiles on their faces as they chuckled to themselves. “I'll see you guys later, I have to drop this off at Fire Lord Zuko’s study, or else Iroh will bite my ear off.” Said the male before they all turned the corner.

She frowned listening in onto their conversation and at the mannerism of the servants. Never during her stay did the servants have such a privilege to just gossip. If they had so much free time on their hands they should either find more work or be dismissed. Yet, she knew that wasn’t the real thing that was bothering her; it was Mai.

Sure, her and Ty Lee betrayed her trust to protect him and the Avatar. As angry as she was, that didn’t hinder the secret soft-spot she had for them. To think, that after all this time, he had the nerve to date her former best friend and now he leaves her to the dust for some other woman, some woman named Ying Yue Jiang, what an ass. She hissed under her breath before following the gaudy group; they were going to be her ticket of information; especially if they were going to lead her to Zuko’s study.

Skillfully, she trailed behind the group, before finally stopping at a study, the same study their father used during his reign. She was grateful; she knew how to sneak in. Within minutes, and much patience, she unhinged the back window and with a gentle thud, slid right into the study. It was dim, no lights lit, but it was clear under the blanket of darkness that everything was neatly stacked or locked away.

With a flick of her fingers, she let one lone blue flame balance on her fingertip, as she scanned around for anything unusual. It was those neat and organized tendencies that made it easy for her to spot the pile of documents resting on the extensive study in the middle of the room, and without hesitation, she quickly began rummaging. She smiled to herself at the ease of finding the information; it was like taking candy from a baby. As she promptly searched through the documents, she couldn’t help but let her eyebrows pinch together as she studied the reports.

Why would he need so much documentation about the Fire Nation colonies at the Earth Kingdom? All the information was scattered; information about Earth Nation boundaries, currency exchange policies and even agreement forms about funding and dual ethnic passports. “What in the world is my lovely brother up to?” She muttered under her breath as she kept scanning through the papers; he was too much of a baby to engage in a war, that she knew for sure. But finally, her eyes drifted upon the uppermost corner of the folder ‘United Republic of Nations.’

Rumours were circulating about the possibility of a new Nation being built, but to think that he had the power to go through with it, something not even their father had the ability to do; the creation of a new Nation. ‘You’re full of surprises brother’ she thought amused. But her eyes slowly began drifting to another document, well hidden underneath the pile of paperwork. ‘General Axe,’ she let her free hand slowly trace the words. There was a giant ‘x’ inked on top of his name in red, and a small doodle of a skull.

The ‘x’ was the sign of a traitor, and the skull; the symbol of assassination. Curiously, she opened the thin folder. It was bizarre for such documents to be up here. Any employee paperwork was usually neatly stashed away in the library, but for any records of a traitor, there were hidden underneath the palace. As she looked through it, she couldn’t help but wonder why would he want these papers.

‘General Axe

traitor due to leakage of private information.

Assassinated; 100 AG – body not retrieved.

Potential threats/targets – Wife: Kasa Jiang, Northern Waterbender, body located and discarded 100 AG.

Daughter – name unknown, unconfirmed Waterbender, not located during the attack, assumed dead.’

She scanned through the papers, looking for any more information, but it bore nothing of interest besides his family history and his other occupations and ranks. Carefully she started putting the documents back, but she was still in her thoughts. The Earth Nation documents made sense, but this, this was random. Why would he need such paperwork, unless...

Her eyes widen at the thought, starting to put the puzzle pieces together;

Jiang…

Ying Yue Jiang. Kasa Jiang.

He wouldn’t, would he? Marrying a non-bender was scandalous enough, but someone of another Nation, a Waterbender, and on top of that, the daughter of a traitor; that was just treason on a whole other level. But the last name Jiang wasn’t the only thing that triggered a memory: Kasa. It was so familiar to her as if she heard someone say it before.

It was light footsteps outside of the study that caught her attention, and she stood still, taken off guard — so preoccupied with the new found information she let her guard down.

“A-Azula? Wh-what are you doing here?” A lady said in disbelief, as she stared at someone whom she thought was gone, gone forever. But Azula just stood there with a large grin on her face, as she pushed back her long black hair behind her shoulder, “The real question is; what are you doing here, Mai.”

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

Magnificent, divine, gorgeous; all words that failed to capture the beauty of the Fire Nation. No longer representing a war-based Nation, the land was covered with vast flowers and vertical architect, but more importantly, the enormous mountain that towered above all; Royal Caldera City, the Capital of the Fire Nation.

“Beautiful isn’t it? Wave, they are excited to see you.”

I looked upwards to see Zuko baring a soft smile, still tightly gripping my arm, as he waved at the masses that crowded at the Royal Plaza. Nervously I began waving at the people, Zuko was right, they seemed delighted to see me, especially when I started waving. I flushed, and I could feel my palms getting clammy, I was overwhelmed, I thought the Southern Water Tribe was crazy, this is just insane!

“What the hell Yue, you're taking the spotlight away from me!” I could hear Sokka grumble behind me. I could hear Aang laugh while Zuko scoffed, “Weren’t you the one who said that you underdressed on purpose?” Zuko said sarcastically, all the while maintaining his perfect smile. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh hearing the way Sokka said ‘awe man’ as we began walking down the ramp. I could start seeing figures standing in the center of the pathway that lined the plaza, guards controlling the growing crowds at bay. I could see Zuko’s smile grow into a broad grin, that must be his family up ahead!

An older man began eagerly walking forward, he wore flaming red robes, almost equal match to Zuko’s. His hands rested on his ample belly as he bore such a wide smile that only accentuated the happy lines on his face, I think I know who this is… “Fire Lord Zuko, my son, you're back!” The man cried out happily. Zuko smiled and nodded his head, “Uncle Iroh, the Nation seems to be in one piece.” Iroh sheepishly grinned as he rubbed his long beard before he finally turned to me, “More importantly, who is this beautiful lady you have on your arm?” Iroh said with a curious smile, although I could tell he was also teasing.

I blushed and politely bowed, “Pleasure to meet you Iroh, I'm Ying Yue Jiang.” I said a bit softer than I attended. Iroh smiled sweetly before bowing back, “The pleasure is mine, it's an honour to meet my nephew's partner. So do tell me, what was it? His smile?” Iroh said with raised brows. I could feel Zuko tense up, and his face gave away the fact that he was embarrassed, although he hid it well. “Uncle-” I could hear Zuko scowl lightly under his breath.

I giggled and shook my head, “His smile was what caught my eye, but what made it official was the golden twinkle he gets in his eyes when he gets excited about something.” I said.

Zuko looked down at me, a bit surprised at my blunt honesty, but based on his warm smile; he seemed happy. “I like her already! I always told Zuko since he was little that the spark he gets in his eyes is what I love the most,” a woman’s voice said. My ears perked up, only to see a mid-aged woman walking up from behind Iroh. To say she was beautiful was an understatement; her long black hair was neatly pulled back, highlighting the tender smile that painted her face and reached her eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Ying Yue, I'm Ursa, Fire Lord Zuko’s mother.” She said her voice like honey. So this is were Zuko get’s his good looks.

I smiled and bowed once again, but she quickly dismissed the bow, “Don’t worry dear, I'm not too fussy on customs-” She started, that was until a loud squeal cut her off mid-sentence and was instead replaced with a high-pitch yell, “ZUZU~!” My eyes widen and before I could even process what was happening a petit girl dashed towards Zuko, crashing into him with such impact that even Zuko stumbled backward, knocking the air out of him.

“Kiyi! We talked about this!” Ursa said before rushing to Zuko’s aid. Although the laugh that erupted from Zuko was music to my ears, he quickly embraced the girl, holding her so tightly in his arms. I thought he was going to squish her. I believe this is the first time I’ve seen Zuko with a kid before.

“I’ve missed you so much Zuzu~! Did you bring gifts? Oh, I have to show you the turtle ducks, I took care of them, and they had their babies. And I made Mommy mad, remember how I hid the toads in my rooms, well- she found them. Hey, is this Yue? I like your name Yue, wait. Zuzu, does this mean that you're going to have babies like the turtle ducks?”

Kiyi said everything so fast I struggled to keep track of what she was spewing out of her mouth. Zuko was right, Kiyi was indeed a hyperactive child with a love of animals. But my eyes widen at the mention of having babies, how could a child bring forth more embarrassment than what I have experienced for the past weeks? I flushed a dark red, and Iroh seemed to notice because he chuckled. Zuko, on the other hand, looked posed entirely as if he didn’t hear anything about babies.

Zuko gently patted her head, still crouched down on one knee, as he lovingly brushed her short brown hair back behind her ears, “I missed you too, and yes, Ying Yue and I brought you gifts, she picked them out just for you. And you can show me after dinner the turtle ducks, and I warned you that Mom was going to get mad if you kept the toads in your bedroom-”

“You knew?!” Ursa said in disbelief as she crossed her arms and left out a huff. Zuko grinned and shrugged his shoulders, “And no, I'll not be having any turtle duck babies of my own. At least not anytime soon.” Ursa sighed heavily before gently grabbing Kiyi by her shoulders, “Kiyi, your brother just arrived here, give him a break?” She insisted. Kiyi pouted but nodded, before giving me a giant smile, “Yue, do you want to see the babies too? They are super cute, and we can feed them together. A friend of Zuzu’s is my friend too.” She said gleefully.

I smiled before nodding, “I would love to join you and Zuzu.” I said although I would be lying if I said I wasn’t laughing saying Zuko’s nickname. Zuko grumbled under his breath, and I swear his cheeks got a bit pinkish the moment I referred to him by his nickname. Iroh grinned, knowing very well I said Zuzu to annoy Zuko, and I smiled back, I had a feeling me and Iroh were going to get along quite well.

A guard walked up to us and with a quick nod began speaking, “Fire Lord Zuko, the palanquins are ready for departure to the Royal Palace.” Zuko straightened up and nodded before the guard left. Ursa grabbed Kiyi’s hand and began tugging her away to sit on the palanquins that were being set up a bit farther down. Iroh nodded, before walking off as well. It was after they left I noticed there was still a small group of people off the side, waiting patiently.

I gazed over the people, curious. They were obviously of noble status, dressed nicely with lots of layers and beautiful shades of red and gold. “Zuko…who are those people?” I asked quietly. Zuko looked at where I was looking at, “Those are some other nobles, here to greet us. Although the rest of the council will be waiting at the Royal Palace.” I nodded my head, but I couldn’t help but notice that Zuko seemed abnormally tense. As my eyes wandered amongst the crowd, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to one person in particular.

Her hair was placed into two well-kept buns, as she stood tall amongst the nobles, her face stone cold. She held a different type of beautiful, while Zuko’s mother had a warm radiance about her, a sweet beauty, this lady had a spark that commanded attention, much like Zuko’s presence. To be honest, it was like looking at Zuko, but just in a female form. Her body was not curvy at all, but slightly lean that complimented her sharp features. When her cat shaped eyes finally landed on me, it was like a bolt of electricity ran through me.

“We should go,” Zuko said sternly, his grip on my hand suddenly tighten. I looked up at him confused, that was until the same lady I was staring at began walking forward. Zuko’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely upset. Could she be who I think she is? When she finally stopped in front of us, she inhospitably glared at Zuko with such venom, “Seems like you proved me wrong Fire Lord Zuko, you did find someone else who would put up with your family soap opera.” She hissed out.

From someone else’s perspective, one would have thought they were having some traditional conversation, but my eyes widen hearing her sharp words, and I could see Zuko’s jaw clench. “What’s wrong, jealous Countess Mai?” Zuko growled back. Oh my god. This is Mai? Mai’s eyes were livid, as I could see her hands start shaping into fists. Before she could say anything else I knew I had to intervene, or else they were really going to duel it out. Ever so gently I placed my hand on Zuko’s chest, a bold move, especially out in public, but I had to catch his attention somehow.

Zuko’s eyes widen, taken aback by my sudden gesture. I smiled largely and batted my eyelashes innocently, “Sorry for interrupting Countess Mai, but Fire Lord Zuko, our palanquins are waiting for us.” I said gently, but right away the fire in Zuko’s eyes relaxed, and he smiled, although I could tell it was forced. “You’re right. We should get going.” He said flatly. I nodded my head before gazing over at Mai with a smile, even if she didn’t return such, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully, we can get to know each other better, I heard amazing things about you. See you in the palace.” I said swiftly, proud that I managed to diffuse the situation.

Mai just lifted her chin before scoffing, “You’ve made a mistake. Both of you.” But I couldn’t shake off the eeriness that was laced with her words. It was easy to miss, especially with the given hostility between these two ex-lovers. But I couldn’t help but notice a slight waver in her voice as she said mistake. It was as if it was a warning, indeed, a mistake. Before I could even think beyond, Mai turned on her heel and disappeared.

I let out a sigh of relief, realizing that I was holding my breath in for a large chunk of that time. Tightly gripping Zuko’s arm, we began walking to the palanquins. It was evident Zuko was pissed, given how tense his arm was and the way he clenched and unclenched his fists in thought. Gosh, how did such a relationship get this sour?

“Well, …that’s Mai. Nice, isn’t she?” Zuko said sarcastically as he helped me sit on the palanquin. I let out a dry laugh as I watched Zuko settle down beside me. “A real steal. I think she likes me; I could see us being best friends.” Zuko looked up at me, and finally, he broke into a large smile as he laughed at my lame attempt of a joke. He let an arm wrap around my waist and pulled me close beside him, “Oh really? I think she likes me too.”

I giggled but found myself gripping on Zuko’s hand as the palanquins began moving, signalling we were now on route to the Royal Palace. “I should have probably given you a heads up about her,” Zuko said apologetically. I rolled my eyes before I finally realized something, “Where did Aang and Sokka go?” I asked. Zuko shook his head before finally pointing up the pathway, “They left a while ago, some sister you are.” Zuko teased. I raised my hand to slap Zuko’s arm and Zuko already flinched, but before I could slap him, I brought my hand down, “You're lucky we are in public or else I would have hit you.” I grumbled underneath my breath.

Zuko laughed, “A rain check for a slap, wouldn’t ask for anything different.”

I gave a look that meant that I just added another slap to that rain check. Zuko just knows how to push my buttons. Although my mind was once again distracted when I began noticing the greenery around us. No amount of stories that Dad told me about could prepare me for the beauty of the Fire Nation. Without thinking twice, I began pointing aimlessly around our surroundings, “What is that over there? Or that, is that a city?” I said as I gazed around. Zuko chuckled before describing everything I would point out, who would have thought that Zuko would be a fantastic tour guide?

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

306 notes · View notes

incoherentbabblings · 5 years

Text

Bang Bang Go Away Come Again Another Day

Inspired by a few asks I received last month regarding a potential Steph and Joker clash. Stephanie not being higher on the Joker’s shit list despite having been both Robin and Batgirl pre!New52 is such a wasted opportunity. I do wonder what he would have made of her. Ao3 link here!

Stephanie didn’t really know what to do when she looked through the peep hole of her front door only to find the Joker waiting patiently outside, a humorously large gun in one hand.

In hindsight she should have kept quiet and fled out the back door of her mom’s house, dragging Crystal (who was currently upstairs sleeping after her fifth night shift on the trot) with her.

She should have grabbed her bat-com and rang the emergency bell as soon as she recognized the green and purple man in his stupid shoes on her doorstep.

She should have done a lot of things, but what she should most definitely not have done was acknowledge him.

“Hullo?” She called through the door, like an idiot, her tone baffled and not reflecting the correct level of fear as the one that churned in her gut.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she recoiled back in horror at herself. She felt her legs wobble and she curled down. Her head continually banged against her knees whilst she silently swore, because honestly what the actual hell Steph don’t say hello as if he’s the mailman or something –

“Ms Brown?” The Joker’s annoyingly chirpy voice drifted through the wood. “Ms Brown, I want to have a word with you.”

“Uuuhhhh, she can’t answer the door right now.”

“…Why?”

“She’s dead?”

Her mouth had apparently reached a stage where it was running independently from her brain. Her hands fortunately, had caught up with her head, and pulled out her emergency alarm. The others would be here soon, maybe she could keep him talking in the meantime.

“Ah! No, see, that’s the issue.”

And then his grubby hand was poking through the letter box, nails grimy and stained dark red.

“You are very clearly not dead. And I – the Joker –”

“I know who you are.” She interrupted rudely.

There was a slight pause as he processed being cut off so sharply. Stephanie heard her breath shudder out of her like a death rattle while she waited to see what he what say or do next. Swallowing uncomfortably, she slowly moved back towards the door as quietly as she could manage. She was unable to look away from his fingers poking through the slit. Suppressing the urge to kick them, she tried not to physically escalate the situation.

He coughed, and his hand became reanimated once more. She flinched back.

“Ahem. That was rude,” the Joker confirmed. “Anyway, my point is, it is my job, as the Joker, to remedy that.”

“…No thank you.”

He seemed amused by her flippant tone. It was a defence mechanism more than anything. She would always bite back at her father and his gang of losers when they were trying to frighten her, just as she bit back at Black Mask, at Scarecrow, at the whole lot. She tried not to treat the Joker any different.

His fingers continued to flutter through the letter box.

“I know you were Robin.”

“I was a black-haired boy?”

“No, no, no. There was a blond girl for a moment. Remember?”

“Not really.”

She was on the floor now, knees pressed up against her chest and pressed against the left-hand side of the door in case he tried to push his way in. For the moment he seemed a bit defeated, like he actually believed her. The fingers went droopy. Suddenly he perked up again, flapping them frantically, Stephanie tried not to flinch.

“Ah! You’re lying! I know Stephanie Brown was Robin and I know Black Mask thought he killed her and I was so soso so so sososo mad about it but HEY! Here you are alive and well and Batgirl, therefore my title as the defeater of Robins remains unchallenged. Harvey couldn’t do, Roman couldn’t do it, only me! And hey, you’ve been Robin and Batgirl, so I get double dibs!”

His laughter vibrated through the wood of the door and made Stephanie squeezer her eyes shut. Horrid gurgling laughter that seemed to pierce her right to the bone. He withdrew his hand from the letter box, but there was no relief, as soon he began frantically banging on the door. Stephanie silently begged for her mother to remain asleep through the racket.

“Open up Ms Brown! Chop chop!”

“Why would I open the door?” She bit out, pressing a palm against the lock and latch.

“Because the sooner you open the door the quicker it’ll be over… durrr!”

“Just go away!” She cried out, feeling like a small child telling off a bully on the playground.

The banging stopped abruptly, and the Joker sighed. Disappointed with her uncooperative nature, he stomped off.

Waiting for nothing, Stephanie threw herself upstairs. She dashed to her closet, grabbing her utility belt and nothing else, before crashing into her mother’s bedroom.

Her mom was sound asleep under the covers, facedown on the pillows. Like her daughter, she drooled while she slept.

“Mom mom mom mommommommommoooommmmm,” Stephanie slurred, shaking Crystal aggressively. Crystal grunted and flailed her arms, trying to throw her daughter off the bed.

“Stephanie what the actual –”

“The Joker is here… mom, we need to get out.”

Immediately her mother was alert, shoving past her daughter with a near slap to the face, grabbing shoes. She looked a sight without her glasses, drying spit on her chin and in blue plaid bottoms and white t-shirt that read Beauty Sleep in obnoxious glittery fonts.

“Why is he here?”

Stephanie gulped.

“Stephanie!”

“Why do you think? For a cup of coffee?”

“Don’t get snippy with me!”

“I’m stressed!”

“And I’m not?”

“Mom please we need to –”

The sound of glass crashing, the kitchen window downstairs, interrupted Stephanie and she froze, looming over her mother putting on her nurse shoes.

“Shit.” They both muttered.

Stephanie burst over to the bedroom door, shutting it and began dragging her mother’s chest of drawers across. She huffed at its weight, but Crystal got the idea quickly, running to the other side and helping her slide it in front of the door.

“Help’s on its way.” Stephanie promised her mother.

Any residual comfort from that statement broke with the sound of the gun firing around the house. Crystal had gone paler than Stephanie had ever seen her.

Stephanie dared to tip toe to the window, the curtains still closed, and peaked from underneath. They could go through and roll down the eave to a safe distance to drop down. It was what her mom had banged into her about the off chance of a large housefire, but for all Stephanie knew the Joker had his minions milling around outside, waiting for her and her much slower mother to come clattering out.

Her little communicator, the one she had been gripping since she first blurted a greeting to the man downstairs, started to flash amber. A few more minutes.

“Oh, thank god.”

Gun shots burst through the door frame then, some getting wedged in the chest of drawers, some flying through above and burying themselves into the wall. One whizzed past Stephanie’s head, through the curtains and breaking the windowpane. Stephanie wheezed and threw herself back over to her mom, who had remained off to the side, out of range. She gasped and pulled Stephanie close. The two grappled at each other, both trying to position themselves in a potential line of fire in place of the other. The bullets continued to be fired for a solid minute, the room becoming utterly wrecked in the process.

“Ms Brown are you dead yet?”

With her mother in the room Stephanie couldn’t find the nerve to antagonise him anymore. She instead gripped at her mother’s shirt tighter.

“Mom I need to –”

“No.” Her mother hissed, refusing to hear whatever she had planned to allow Crystal to escape.

“Blondies, I can hear you both. This house is not very soundproof.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Stephanie yelled.

“Rude!” Another minute of fire. “How about you come out and your mother won’t die? Just you huh? I mean admittedly with Jason I –”

Thankfully he didn’t get to finish that statement, as with a cartoonish glurk he was abruptly thrown back from the door. Distantly the two women heard him fall down the stairs.

Stephanie gulped but didn’t move. Her mother had her hand buried deep in Stephanie’s blonde hair, stroking it to an almost painful degree.

“Mom that hurts.”

The hand stopped, and reluctantly, slowly, let her go.

“Sorry.”

“It’s good.”

Looking around the wrecked room with the sounds of sirens arriving, both women jumped when somebody attempted to open the hole ridden door.

“Stephanie.” Called Batman from the other side. Immediately both women jumped up and went to remove the collapsing drawers from the door.

The slightly bizarre image of Batman standing in her suburban home (which was utterly and wholly ruined thank you Joker) facing a middle-aged woman in her jammies and a late teen whose hair was half falling out of a ponytail made Stephanie want to laugh.

She didn’t.

“Thank you. We’re fine.” She assured Bruce. He nodded.

“Physically” Crystal interjected. She pushed pass the two to survey the damage. Bringing her hands up to her mouth, she cried out.

“Oh, my poor house!”

Stephanie frowned at the broken furniture and ruined walls. A framed picture that had fallen off the wall of her and Tim and Cass had a bullet in each of their heads. An orchid plant, one she had bought her mother two Christmases ago, lay shattered in the hallway, soil ruining the carpet. Returning her gaze to Batman, she nudged him conspiratorially. He stared back for a moment and rocked on his heels from her shoulder nudge.

Heaving a sigh, he muttered for Stephanie’s ears alone, “I can help with that.”

“Thank you.” Shoving her hands in her pocket, she tried not to look as worried as she felt. “…He knew. About me. What I am and been.”

Would they have to leave Gotham for their safety? Joker knew about the others, was she just the passing fancy that had popped into his head at that moment upon learning the news? Would he grow bored after this? Or was she now forever to be cautious of someone wanting her head on a spike? Someone who knew her name, knew her mother, knew her address…knew everything that mattered? Black Mask was gone. The Joker… he always remained. A laughing phantom.

“Hnn.”

Bruce’s unhelpful response made her hackles rise.

“Did you know he knew?” Tersely, she waited for a quick and solid denial.

No such response came, only silence, and Stephanie felt a familiar lump of disappointment return to her stomach. Her mouth dropped open in a grimace, and she choked on a breath.

“…Well, glad to see my time as Robin continues to be a legacy of a never-ending nightmare.” And then she shoved past, the reality of what had just occurred catching up with her. Her eyes grew wet, and her breathing became shaky.

She managed to whisper, “I’ll see you on patrol later,” and then she walked over to her mother and held her tight. When she looked over her mother’s shoulder, she saw Bruce had left, having no words of comfort to give.

She began sobbing in earnest, and Crystal gripped her close.

#dc #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #can you taste my bitterness at the end huh?#my fic tag

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alitheamateur · 5 years

Text

The Grind- Chapter 25

I figured parking the bike in the garage out of plain sight would be my best bet, just in case Tia spaced and happen to pass by Revel’s and let Livvy catch site of me there. As far as she knew, Cal and I were out at the pub for the first preseason Steelers game, grabbing a couple beers. I drafted Tia to persuade her into one measly night off from the unforgiving jump ropes and speedbags to go to some unrealistic, sickening, fucking chick-flick, and maybe allow her a drink. My real whereabouts had to remain unsuspected, at least for now. I planned on filling her in on all the secrets tomorrow night, and pray to God that it didn’t send her spiraling into a hissy fit just 5 days before her match with the Franklin Park gal.

I had never lied this much to anyone in my damn life, which didn’t make the fact that Liv was the victim, any easier. I had prodded through her phone, snuck out on the porch two or three times in the last week to ‘check the mailbox’ that I had already emptied earlier in the day, so I could return a missed call. I bought plane tickets with my Paypal so she wouldn’t see the transactions, and paid Mac $200 to play chauffeur to the airport, all behind the back of the woman in my life. It was for her own good, and for my own peace of mind.

I opted to reach out to Liz first, stealing her number from her daughter’s phone contacts, figuring if she and Tony were anything like my own parents, the lady of the house called the shots. I pleaded with her best I knew how, to promise we keep my little master plan hidden from Liv, and in typical female fashion, she whispered “oooh’s” and “awwww’s” about how I was just ‘too sweet and romantic for my own good.” Shit, you got a lot to learn about me, lady.

They flew in early this morning, and I gave Mac all their hotel info to pass along when he picked them up, so I could spend the day with Liv in peace, not having to duck out to answer a thousand phone calls. The Elliott’s weren’t happy about my fitting the bill for their visit to the ‘Burgh, but I insisted on treating them like royalty for the week they’d be in my city. Anyone with Livvy’s blood in their veins, deserved to be considered as such. No matter how strained the healing relationship between the three of them was, Tony and Liz were still her parents, and I’d give them that respect. Sure, the way they handled some situations with their daughter was lightyears beyond fucking foolish if you ask me, but that wasn’t my battle to fight.

I figured Revel was a happy medium for dinner on their first night. It was just hoity enough to impress them, but not stuffy enough to overwhelm them. I had to scoot Liv out the door first, knowing the dress pants and button up Ralph Lauren would’ve been a dead give away into my long list of fabrications this week. I had to work one-on-one with Tia to organize everything, directing her to keep my lady out late so I could get home first and change inconspicuously. But threaten her not to get Liv completely bombed so she wouldn’t be hung over for the surprise breakfast with her parents tomorrow morning. I only booked their hotel room for two nights, in hopes that this whole shebang wouldn’t pop off in my damn face, and Livvy would let the two of them finish out their visit at our place.

Once my helmet was strapped and locked to the bike, I turned the corner into the main lobby of the restaurant to make my way to the hostess chair. I made sure my guests were seated already, and followed the direction to our corner table, wiping two very sweaty hands on the inside lining of my slacks.

God, please don’t let them laugh me out of this place.

It was like looking straight into the face of Liv in 25 years when I locked eyes with Elizabeth, besides the blonde color of her hair, not matching her child’s now darker strands. I guess I hadn’t noticed the stark resemblance over the video chat. I smiled at the two of them, I could feel it was awkward and forced but I hoped they’d return the gesture regardless. The couple stood, and I greeted the lady first, doing my best to always mind the Ritter manners.

“So nice to meet you in person, Mrs. Eliiott. You and Livvy might as well be twins! I’m uh… I’m Colton.” Her smile wasn’t the warm, sunny one I’d grown so fond of with Liv, but she was kind enough.

Tony, patiently standing to my right, observed every little inch I moved. Typical of the father to a girl, I assumed.

“Oh, Colton, it is very nice to meet you finally. And you look so sharp!” Liz held my hand between both of hers, to appreciate the treasure of a man who could dress himself with some sense these days.

“Thank ya’, ma’am,” I blushed awkwardly. Compliments were never my strong suit.

“And Mr. Elliott, how are ya’ sir? Nice to see you.” I turned on the masculine shake when approaching her dad. My own father engrained the importance of a firm grip greeting as soon as I could talk.

“Enough with the formal stuff, Colton. Call me Tony. Although, I can admire the respect you have for your elders. To be honest, I didn’t expect such from a guy who beats people up for a living.”

Happy to shatter your stereotypical idea of me, man. But, I’d still break the nose of any fucker in this entire place who breathed the wrong way.

“Don’t let the scarred knuckles fool ya’, sir. I’m not a complete wild animal,” I tried to joke.

We sat, waiting to order, each scanning over the menu in tongue-tied silence before Liz finally broke the plain. “So, did Liv ever catch you in this big scheme, Colton? Does she know we’re here yet?”

“Actually, she’s completely clueless. Or, just letting on to be. But, she seems to be in the dark still. Ain’t real sure how I pulled it off, honestly. She usually reads me like a damn book.” I huffed with a scratchy laugh, quickly scolding myself internally for slipping a swear word.

“And this fight? Was it your idea? I mean, did you want her to get involved with it like you are?” Tony folded his menu, assumingly decided on his dinner choice, and focused he folded hands towards me. His tenor seemed almost snarky, but I was sure he hadn’t meant it that way, remembering Liv say he seemed somewhat excited over the idea.

“Actually, I hated the thought from the get-go. I lost my mind just when I thought it was all for fun. I begged her not to take it. But, you know 2-1 as well as I do. She shut me up real quick.”

“2-1?” Her mother cocked a confused smile of question.

“Oh, uhhh.. yeah. It’s just a little nickname I call her. She wears this old ratty hoodie around all the time with the number on the back. So, the name just kinda stuck.” I scratched my head before taking a generous gulp of water to lower the temperature of my smothering, sweating armpits.

“She talks about ball then? I mean, you’ve heard some about her days as a Warrior?” Tony interjected with round eyes.

“Definitely. I know it all, Mr. Elli… uh, Tony. We play sometimes on Sundays at this park down from our house. She kills me by 15+ every time.”

He smiled bittersweetly at the idea of his all-star with a ball in her hands again. And I, wanted to hit him for being so blind to the fact that she had so many other talents to be proud of, if he would just live in the now and see it.

Between our main course, and the dessert I ordered after listening to Liz read over the description in the menu more than three times, her dad brought up the inevitable. The “thing I wanted to talk to them about.”

“Okay, Colton. Now that you’ve treated us to that perfectly cooked slab of red meat, what did you want to talk with us about? Something to do with this fight, I’m sure.”

I swished another drink of water, although it was missing the bite of bourbon that I needed so fucking badly.

“Yeah, you could say that, I guess…” I answered him vaguely.

“Everything is okay though? You’re not worried for her anything, are you?” Elizabeth chimed in, sweeping a hair behind her ear, just the way Liv does.

“I’m worried for her, only because I love her. And when you walk up those steel steps, you’re takin’ a risk no matter who you are. But your daughter, she can hold her own. I see that now.” I reiterated to myself as much as her parents sitting across from me.

Tony and Liz looked away from me, now towards each other in both confusion and concern at my lack of response to the burning question of the entire damn night.

Being the coward I fucking am, and my very typical struggle for the right words, I did the only thing I knew to do that would clear the air, and satisfy their curiosity. I wriggled around in my seat, trying to loosen the opening of my pocket so I could reach in for the tiny, purple velvet box that had been burning a hole there since I left the house a couple of hours ago.

I neatly and gently placed it closer their side of the perfectly set table, and then looked down to fidget with my fingers.

Her mom, the feminine instinct in her realizing immediately what was inside, reached for the box first, eagerly. A hand covered her opened jaw once she caught site of the custom cut, octagon shaped diamond, seated inside a silver band. The price was kept inside the secret space of a lock box I kept at the top of the closet, way beyond my housemates reach, to remind myself of the success that had allowed me to purchase something so extravagant, still not living up to what Liv really deserved. The jeweler laughed at the bizarre suggestion I had for an octagon shaped engagement diamond, but there was no convincing me into anything else. The cage was the very reason our relationship even began. Well, that along The Grind. And Drew and I had plans for that later.

“Colton, speak up, son.” Tony leaned over to witness what had so thoughtfully touched his wife in the square shaped box. I couldn’t read his reaction, which sent my nerves straight to shit.

“Tony, I adore your daughter. That goes without sayin’….” I pasued, planning out every word in my head before I said it out loud. “I hurt her awhile back, something I still beat myself up over, and I never, ever want to see her cry like that again. I have issues of my own with anger, and I throw tantrums sometimes, but Livvy is my calm, ya’ know? She’s made me into this man who actually feels more than hate… and…. resentment. I would walk in front of a train for her, if it came to that.”

They sat very still in their seats, Liz wiping a tear here and there with the corner of her black cloth napkin, and Tony only furrowed his forehead, paying close attention to my professions.

“I didn’t know people were actually capable a’ lovin’ somebody else like this, but as soon as I think I love Livvy as much as anybody possibly could, she goes and proves my ass wrong.”

Strike two for sayin’ ass, Ritter. Liv’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap.

“I’m askin’ kindly, for a blessing from the two of you to ask Liv to marry me. It would mean a great deal to me, and I value the opinions of you both. But, if you can’t give it to me, I apologize, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life with your beautiful daughter no matter what. If she’ll have me.” I finished.

I had enough of my pop in me to know that asking for approval of the father was the right thing to do. But I had just enough thick-headed asshole in me, that I had decided on kneeling for Liv’s hand regardless of their approval. When your life once was a pathetic waste, and your mind is a dingy, manic hole like mine, you cling to any light like a fuckin’ firefly to flame. Liv was my chance, my reason. She was my light, and addiction.

“I think I can speak for Lizzie here too, when I say the respect you’ve shown us by asking, speaks a lot about your character. But Colton, this all seems a bit… rushed? I mean, it wasn’t long ago she was sitting in our dining room, explaining to us she had to flee the city for a week just to try and get some peace of mind after the way you hurt her. Now, the two of you are living together, and thinking about marriage?” Tony said.

“You’re exactly right. And, if Liv tells me she isn’t ready, then I’ll learn some patience and wait ‘til she is. But, as much as you love Mrs. Elliott here, I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying ‘when you know, you know’….”

I knew I was going to be pining for the girl the second I laid eyes on her static striken, matted hait that morning at the coffee shop. And I knew it again, the minute she walked out of Mac’s gym that night. As soon as the lingering of her sweet perfume had dissipated from that hallway, I felt my heart harden like cement.

“Tony, you know was well as I do that Liv would want this. She loves him. Any time the sting from a breakup is as deep as she said it was, it’s meant to be.” I smiled to her mom for supporting the decision that her stern husband was still wrestling with.

There was silence while Liz devoured the chocolate desert the waiter had brought, offering me a taste, and once the check was delivered to me, an answer from the pair was still unknown.

“If ya’ want, you guys think it over. I know it’s a hefty decision,” I reasoned levelheaded.

“No need, Colton. My Livvy would never forgive me if she knew I didn’t give you my blessing.. If she loves you, and wants a life with you, well….then welcome to the family, boy.” Tony smiled, sliding the ring back, and I stood following his lead, to hug them both.

The most perfect, gorgeous, fuckin�� green eyed, smiley woman on this God forsaken earth, was going to share my last name.

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy conlon #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

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neffi3 · 6 years

Text

School reunion

Written for JayDick-Hell as a part of the Jaydick Winter Blahs Fic Exchange.

Prompt: It’s my highschool reunion and I need a hot date so I can rub it in the faces of the people who hated me

The night was going well for Jason; his men completed drug raids with added bonuses, nobody that wasn’t supposed to got hurt, Batman stayed out of his way; so of course the Golden Boy was waiting at Jason’s apartment for Red Hood to get back home.

For a second Jason contemplated shooting him, but decided it wasn’t worth having to clean the blood or worse – abandoning the apartment.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick greeted him casually, like he didn’t just break into the house of a crime oriented former Robin. In his civvies no less.

“What do you want?” Red Hood growled walking past the couch and his not-brother lounging on it to his bedroom to shed his gear.

“Can’t I just visit my favorite little brother?”

Jason dropped his guns and helmet in shock and rounded on Dick to stare at him in disbelief.

Dick send him a small, uncertain smile, eyes darting away and to Jason never settling on anything more than a few seconds.

Jason squinted at him suspiciously. Dick was acting weird and the show of vulnerability just added to Red Hood’s unease. Whatever he wanted, Dick knew Jason wasn’t going to like it and unfortunately for him no matter how much buttering up the Golden Child did wasn’t going to change that.

“Talk or get out,” Red Hood ground out, crossing his arms irritably.

Dick dropped his head, huffing out a nervous laugh. In the next second he lifted his head slightly, peering at Jason from behind the bangs of dark hair, biting his lip.

Jason viciously stomped on the thought of how adorable Dick looked like that.

“Will you be my date?” the older of the two asked quietly.

“Excuse me?” Jason blinked taken aback.

Dick jumped to his feet and started pacing a little to burn off some of the nervous energy. He flapped his hands around as he tried to explain to Red Hood why he needed a date in the first place. He sounded like he wanted to convince not only Jason but himself too, but the younger male decided to cut him some slack, because him even asking Jason to pretend to be his boyfriend was too bizarre to be real. Even if Jason wished it to be real.

“I have a case I’m working on,” Dick said, “and it turned out one of my acquaintances from high school is involved. But it would be suspicious if I just showed up out of the blue, especially when they would learn I was a cop. Fortunately in a few days I have a school reunion and they would be there. It’s a perfect opportunity to snoop around a bit and I would appreciate some backup.”

“Why don’t you take the Replacement?” Jason asked. “Or Babs? Anyone from the long line of your friends?”

“Tim is too young,” Dick shook his head. “Babs went there too so she’s known and her being Commissioner’s daughter would make things more difficult. And everybody else is busy.”

“I’m busy too,” Jason pointed put.

“Please?” big blue eyes begged him. “I really could use the help. Besides,” Dick added, a blush started to redden his cheeks. Jason watched, fascinated. “This is one of the events where you’re supposed to bring a hot date with you.”

It took a few seconds for Jason’s brain to process what was just said, but then Red Hood smirked confidently.

“You think I’m hot, Sweetheart?” Jason drawled.

Dick’s blush deepened, but he maintained eye contact resolutely.

“So, will you?” the older man demanded plaintively.

“There better be a lot of food, Goldie,” Jason agreed indirectly. “And booze.”

Dick’s smile lit up the whole room and left Red Hood dazed enough, that he barely reacted as Dick danced away with an excuse of not bothering him any further and that he will text him the details later.

It was how Jason found himself at the manor four days later, dressed in an expensive suit that – according to Kori and Roy – accented his hotness, tugging at the tie to get rid of the choking feeling at his throat. He came to pick Dick up, but apparently the Golden Boy wasn’t ready yet so Jason was forced to wait for him in his former home and hope that other Bats had the sense to stay away from him.

Red Hood wasn’t so lucky apparently.

“Huh,” Tim hummed with his mouth full, looking Jason up and down. “After your spiel about how you hate us all I didn’t think you would agree to this,” he commented after he swallowed whatever he was eating.

“What is it to you?” Red Hood sneered. “I’m always up for a case with ass kicking, free food and drinks.”

Tim blinked at him in confusion and then smirked with amusement.

“There’s no case, Jason,” he revealed.

“What?!” Red Hood’s jaw dropped. No it couldn’t be, the Replacement had to be lying, but Jason couldn’t think of any reason why he would do that. “But Dick said...” he trailed off, realizing he had been played. The fucker, Jason thought betrayed and angry, when I’ll get my hands on him…

“Dick wanted you to be his date,” Tim said, derailing Jason’s thoughts of murder of the eldest son of the Bat. “Apparently he assumed you wouldn’t agree if he just asked you outright.”

What? Red Hood stared at his replacement, mouth opening and closing without any sound. Dick wanted Jason to be his date? What did it mean?

“Jay!” Dick shouted excitedly from the top of the stairs. “You came!” he sounded a touch surprised, but it did nothing to dim his wide, happy grin as the acrobat bounded down the stairs in his hurry to plaster himself against Jason in a hug.

Jason’s arms automatically went up to hug Dick back, while his mind still tired to process the new information it was given. Did the Golden Child, the mighty Nightwing liked a street rat like Jason Todd in a romantic way? Jason was afraid to even hope.

“Let’s just crack that case of yours,” Red Hood said, pulling away.

“Yeah, the case, right,” Dick agreed, releasing him reluctantly. His smile dimmed a little and he shuffled awkwardly like Jason just reminded him this was not a real date.

Holy shit, Dick wanted it to be a real date!

Jason grinned like a shark. Oh, this was going to be great!

“So?” he prompted. “Let’s go,” he elaborated as Dick blinked up at him in confusion.

“Oh, of course!” the acrobat let out a painfully fake laugh and practically fled the manor. “See yea, Timmy.”

Red Hood turned to the Replacement, waggling his eyebrows and found him glaring at him protectively. He snorted and waved, following Dick out.

Jason’s plan on having fun was tampered slightly by one fact. On the way to the event Dick was kind of nervous and Red Hood got the feeling it had nothing to do with him or the fake-real date situation. No. When they got to their destination and Dick got all quiet and tense Jason realized why. Dick was scared. Dick Grayson, the social butterfly, the man who could and would laugh in the face of worst criminals the world had to offer and then some, was afraid.

Now Jason wasn’t stupid and guessed the probable cause almost immediately. He wasn’t a stranger to being bullied in school, but he didn’t had the chance to attend his classes too long. Dick however had the full experience and apparently it was bad. And the fact that Dick could have taken down his tormentors in a few seconds flat but couldn’t had to add the salt to injury.

For a moment Jason wondered why Dick even went to this reunion. Then some flashes of the cameras light up the surroundings and, yeah, right. Dick Grayson was a public person, it would be suspicious if he didn’t show to this party and the following scandal that was sure to be created by the gossip columns just wasn’t worth it. But that meant Dick couldn’t do anything if whoever had tormented him didn’t grow the fuck up and tried something for the same reasons.

Suddenly Jason’s role in this mess became clear to him. Dick didn’t want to take anyone else with him not only because he wanted Jason, but because they were widely known as well and had certain expectations to fulfill in the public eye. But Jason? Jason was nobody. He had a clean slate and could be practically anyone he wanted and do whatever he wanted. And having his hot date punching people in Dick’s defense was a lot more manageable scandal than the possible others.

Still, it didn’t make Red Hood any less irritated that the Golden Boy wasn’t upfront with him about the situation and still proceeded to have his fun, but keeping a more attentive eye on Dick through the evening. The Golden Boy was adorably flustered when Jason did nice things for him like bringing him some food or drink or whisking him away from highly uncomfortable conversations playing the good boyfriend card harder than was strictly necessary. Other than those random moments Jason left Dick alone stating, despite Nightwing’s dismay, that he won’t interfere with Dick’s reconnecting with his peers and went to mingle and pretend to fish for a non existent information. Red Hood caught a few wistful glances Dick send his way, but did nothing about it. Let Dick stew in the reality of his own making.

Ever since their entrance they both gathered jealous looks from some people. Dick more than Jason and hell, if it didn’t make Red Hood preen. In the course of the evening, Jason got hit on five times already. He let himself flirt a little, but ultimately turned the suitors down. One of them, a pretty woman just left with a huff she couldn’t quite hide when Jason glanced to check on Dick and found him all tense and posed to retreat.

At first Dick was too nervous, so Jason stuck close to him, reminding him of his presence. As the evening progressed the acrobat relaxed more and more and Red Hood decided he would be fine on his own and increased the distance between them. But now a single man had Nightwing jumping into flight mode in an instant. So this was it then. Jason finished his drink in one gulp and made his way over. It was his time to shine.

Despite everything Dick was having a good time. There were a few bumps here and there, but he managed to get through them on his own or with Jason’s help. However all good things didn’t last, not in this company at least, so Dick was hardly surprised to hear a posh snotty voice – even snottier than Damian’s and that was saying something – slightly deeper than he remembered calling his name. With dread he turned around and his fears were confirmed as he came face to face with his high school nemesis – Nathan Canavan.

“It is you, Grayson,” Nathan sneered. “Still living off of Wayne’s money like the charity case you are, I see. You have to be really good for Wayne to keep you this long.” He eyed Dick up and down making the acrobat feel dirty just from that, “I can see the appeal.”

Dick contemplated just fleeing the scene, but a hand landed on his lower back rubbing soothing circles and a solid body plastered itself along his right side. Dick leaned against it gratefully, instantly feeling better and grinning inwardly in delight as Nathan’s eyes widened in fear.

Canavan was solidly build, he was Dick’s height but had more muscle mass than the acrobat, making him bigger and probably stronger. Clearly he was counting on that as he approached Grayson to do whatever he had planned. But Jason was still taller and bigger, especially when he puffed out his chest, making the seams of his shirt scream in protest as his muscles buffed out in already too tight clothes.

“Who’s your friend, Sweetheart?” Jason drawled, sneaking a possessive arm around Dick’s waist making him shiver.

“Jason,” Dick allowed a fraction of the smug grin appear on his face, “this is Nathan Canavan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Red Hood stated pleasantly, extending his hand.

“Likewise,” Nathan replied faintly, paling as Jason put far more strength into the handshake that was considered polite accompanied by a warning glare.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jason apologized, “but Dick expects a call in a minute, so we need to find someplace quiet.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Canavan stammered hurriedly. “I was just leaving anyway, just came over to say ‘hi’.”

“Mhm,” Red Hood hummed and tugged Dick outside of the ball room, through the back entrance to the cool air outside.

Dick didn’t even know he was shaking until Jason leaned against the railing and pulled him flush against him, rubbing his hands along his spine, murmuring soothing nothings.

“Thank you,” the acrobat leaned back when he felt steady enough, but Jason kept him trapped, looping his arms around his waist loosely.

They looked each other in the eyes, the air around them suddenly charged with something.

“Jason?” Dick asked in confusion as he realized Red Hood’s face was getting closer to his own.

Hot mouth collided gently with his own, sending a shock of electricity through Dicks’ body. His lips parted automatically, but before Jason could take advantage of the invitation Dick pulled away abruptly, remembering.

Jason hummed questioningly.

Dick looked down, guilty and ashamed.

“I lied,” he confessed.

“I know,” Red Hood said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement.

“There isn’t a case,” Dick continued.

“I know,” Jason repeated.

Dick didn’t register what he said, too determined to explain himself fully.

“I just wanted you to be my date. Not just today, but period.”

Jason smiled fondly and gently hooked a finger under other man’s chin to lift his head up. He leaned in closer.

“I know,” he stated and placed another kiss on those plush lips.

It took Dick a few seconds to pull back again this time.

“What?” he asked with wide blue eyes, shocked and yet hopeful.

“Can I kiss you?” Jason huffed out with an irritated breath.

“Y-yes,” Dick replied breathlessly. “But-”

“Good,” Jason purred, pulling Dick closer. “Kissing time now, shut up.”

#fic #mfic #batmanfic #fanfiction #jaydick #Jason Todd #dick grayson #Jaydick Winter Blahs Fic Exchange #JayDick-Hell

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orange-plum · 7 years

Text

Title: Inconsistent Satan and Me fanfiction commission for @astarisms. Sorry for the wait.

Summary: Natalie purchases a peculiar plant from a shop that has her waking up to a different Lucifer every morning. Some mornings are better than others, to be honest. Natan.

“What did I say about buying that shit, kid?”

Natalie grinned over the top of the globe in her hands. Ensconced in the glow of blue and purple lights that painted an eerily tranquil solar system on the paint of her bedroom wall was what appeared to be a miniature jungle. At least, it looked that way from her perspective; unless there was a plant with a million petals that Satan never told her about.

Satan returned Natalie’s excited gaze with a look of pure exhaustion over the edge of his book.

“It’s pretty, though, right?” Natalie tried to reassure her prickly demonic friend, holding out the orb to him. The purple streams of light gently swayed across his face, like sunlight peeking through curtains.

He immediately shoved it away.

“Who cares if it’s pretty? If you bought it from that shop, it’s probably something I can guarantee that’s bad for humanity.”

Looking back, perhaps it hadn’t been a great idea to bring Natalie to that supernatural shop when he had been looking for Ipos and his book. In hindsight, he’d never really considered the ginger to frequent that place like a child looking for baseball cards to collect.

“Why did that asshole even sell this to you? It looks like Jurassic Park in a bottle,” Satan said scathingly, shoving the orb away from his face.

His cynicism didn’t deter Natalie, however, for she just held it closer to her face and sat down on her bed with it.

“Business is business, he said.”

Satan considered the shopkeeper’s words, lowering his book and watching Natalie as she became mesmerized with the mysterious plant inside of the glass ball. Something didn’t sit right in his stomach, but he pushed that feeling down in favor of the curiosity that seemed to be more prominent the longer Natalie examined her newfound purchase.

“What does it do?” he reluctantly asked after a long beat of silence.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Am I supposed to know everything?” he spit, narrowing his eyes at the surprise on her face.

“Yes - Well, I mean, no. I mean - You’re just really old,” Natalie said, quickly backpedaling when Satan’s expression grew more sour. “I’m just saying, I thought you’ve had a lot of experience with supernatural stuff since you are, you know, a supernatural stuff yourself.”

Satan raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“He said this would be useful to me, since I’m a human. He said if I’m ever in a pinch and I don’t like what’s going on around me, that this will save me. An opportunity presenter, I think it’s called. I can’t remember the technical term, but you get the picture,” Natalie explained rather triumphantly, giving Satan a broad smile and patting the glass beside her.

“I wouldn’t mess with something like that if I were you, kid. Nothing good comes from humans messing with objects from my world.”

The conversation died there with Satan’s resigned sigh and Natalie’s shrug.

The day passed uneventfully; homework, dishes, shower, bed.

The orb was a small nightlight on Natalie’s bedside table, a cosmos decorating the walls like slow moving clouds of galaxies blowing by on a breeze.

“G’night, Satan,” Natalie muttered into the silence.

“Night, kid,” Satan responded, his arms folded and his eyes shut from his place on the floor.

A small leaf trembled, then fell off of the side of the plant.

The night was peaceful.

XXXXX

Natalie’s morning was greeted with warm sunlight touching the skin of her cheek through her curtains. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head until she felt the satisfying pop of her shoulder.

The orb still sat, everglowing, beside her bed. Natalie smiled at it before swinging her legs over the side of her bed, her toes feeling the familiar mesh of the carpet.

It was only then that something felt . . . off.

Natalie peered around her room, noticing a couple of minor things that seemed a bit odd, but enough to draw her attention. The pile of books Satan kept stored on the shelf above her dresser was gone, and so was her ever present blue beanbag chair.

The two lacking items being out of place but not strange enough to linger on it, Natalie shrugged and pulled out her outfit for the day, getting ready for school.

Sometimes Satan grew antsy at night, though he never verbally admitted this to Natalie. He slept more now, but old habits die hard. Perhaps he had wanted to read but wasn’t willing to wake Natalie up with a light and relocated to Max’s old bedroom.

Natalie fitted her headband to her head and vacated her room, immediately bombarded with the smell of breakfast.

Since when does Dad have time to make breakfast in the morning? Natalie silently pondered, peeking her head around the corner when she heard idle chit chat and clanking of forks on plates.

Her jaw nearly hit the floor.

“No matter how I grade this it’s still going to hurt his feelings . . .”

“Who cares? The idiot didn’t get the material.”

“Max, please. Honey, you can’t mark him up just because you like him. If he didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand.”

“I know, but -”

“Mom, you just grade it for him, then,” Max frowned. He spooned a large mouthful of cereal up to his face when he his eyes flicked up, noticing Natalie’s gawking from the living room. He cocked his head to the side.

“What are you staring at? Mom made you waffles so hurry up and eat them.”

Carla McAllister, upon hearing herself mentioned, looked up from the papers her husband was gnawing his lip over. Natalie felt the air suck in between her teeth when she met eyes with her mother; her living, breathing, so very not dead mother.

Carla smiled, the aged wrinkles around her eyes becoming more prominent with the brightness of her grin. She looked just like the photos Alex had shown Natalie all throughout her childhood. It was different seeing it in person, though.

Natalie felt her heart stutter in her chest, like a car trying desperately to start but failing.

“Morning, Natalie. There’s no more butter, your brother ate the rest, but there’s syrup.”

Natalie hadn’t been aware that her legs were even moving forward until she stood in front of the table. Alex said something to her without raising his head from the reports in front of him, but Natalie didn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears.

Her mother laughed in response while she brought the syrup over to the table and cleared the empty plates. She felt like she was underwater, all sound dispersing through the static haze in her brain.

Natalie felt weightless . . .

Until a tug sharply pulled her into her seat. Natalie blinked, dumbfounded, at Max. He gave her a look of annoyance coupled with curiosity but didn’t say anything else.

Natalie ate her food on autopilot, preferring to watch the exchanges of her family as they shared what seemed to be a very normal family breakfast. The food tasted like nothing in her mouth, Natalie finding herself too far in awe of this bizarre situation to register the sensations of touch and taste.

There were talks of Max’s girlfriend, of Alex and the dog he was pestering them all to go along with purchasing, of a nice old man Carla met on her shift last night, and the vacation they’d all apparently taken to San Diego last summer.

Natalie wrung her hands together in her lap when Alex flipped through some of the pictures on his Facebook account, all of them on the beach or at dinner in a nice restaurant. Natalie’s sunburnt face grinned back at the camera, her arms flung around Max and Carla’s necks.

“If you keep zoning out you’ll be late for school. Get out of here, Nat,” Max reminded, excusing himself from his seat with a slap to her shoulder. Natalie jutted forward before catching herself, standing on numb legs and slipping her backpack on.

“Are you alright? You’ve been very quiet this morning,” Carla inquired, approaching Natalie with a bit of concern lingering in her gaze. She placed her hands under Natalie’s bangs. “You don’t have a fever . . .”

“I- I’m fine. I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well. Bye!” Natalie announced in a rush, overwhelmed to the point of breathlessness. Natalie sprinted to the front door, but she paused with her fingers around the handle for a moment of hesitation. Her feet turned her around and she ran back into the kitchen. Before Carla could voice her confusion, Natalie threw her arms around her and buried her face in her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and mentally memorized the sensation of her mother’s warmth against her skin, the smell of Carla’s perfume.

Natalie pulled away suddenly, her voice caught in her throat when she said, “I’ll see you after school, Mom. I love you.”

Carla waved awkwardly after her daughter, only then turning to her equally confused husband when the door slammed shut.

“What was that about?”

“I have no idea.”

XXXXX

“Mom’s alive, mom’s alive, mom’s alive!” Natalie found herself yelling as she ran down the street, almost tripping over her own feet in her exhilaration. In her frantic haste, she nearly knocked over a woman and her stroller, and a few of her classmates making their way up the school steps.

Natalie felt sweat sticking her hair to the sides of her temples when she reached the top of the steps, her eyes finding Mike as he tied his shoe outside of their science building. He glanced up when Natalie landed in front of him, pulling him up by his shoulders and shaking him with a grin.

“My mom’s alive!”

Mike’s teeth clacked together painfully at the jostling before he gently pried his friend’s hands from him, concerned confusion on his face.

“U-um, that’s good? My mom’s alive, too,” Mike responded, smiling at her uncertainly. Natalie could’ve kissed him in that moment, she was so excited, but instead she grabbed his hands and started jumping up and down.

“I went to the beach with her, Michael! And she makes waffles like I always thought she would. I heard she was a good cook, so obviously I’m jealous, but she’s alive and she’s funny and nice and - Oh my gosh!” Natalie stopped her rambling to gasp. Mike furrowed his brow in confusion, nervous from his friend’s outburst.

“Are you not mad at me anymore? You’re talking to me, and you haven’t talked to me since you saw God in that warehouse. Did Stan say anything to you, because I can’t find him, but here you are: talking to me again.”

Mike tried to form a coherent response as Natalie waited for him to speak impatiently, her gaze intent and wild as she hung on every word he had yet to speak.

“Saw who in a where now? N-Natalie, are you OK? I don’t remember being mad at you . . .”

“You were. Because I lied about Stan.”

“Who’s Stan?”

Natalie straightened, furrowing her own brow. Mike ran his fingers over the back of his neck, glancing behind Natalie to a small group of people watching the scene like a bunch of rubberneckers. Mike gently grabbed the bend of her elbow and guided her to the other side of the building for some privacy.

“Natalie, maybe you should take a few breaths. You’re very loud and very . . . sweaty,” Mike commented, jutting his hand inside of his backpack and handing her some Kleenex. Natalie took them with a thanks and wiped her face off, composing herself enough to speak softer.

“So, you started tutoring someone? That’s good. I was thinking about trying that out myself,” Mike smiled, his tone not belying how genuine he was about volunteering to help someone improve their academic standing.

“But I haven’t . . . shown you the guy I’m tutoring?” Natalie continued cautiously. Mike shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Not even once?”

Mike shook his head again. Natalie’s previous excitement died down into something heavy forming in her stomach. She had been too caught up in the shock of her mother in her kitchen to really think about why she was there to begin with.

Why Carla was there and why Satan wasn’t.

“I have to go,” Natalie blurted, gripping her backpack straps tighter as she pivoted around, intent on heading back to her home. Mike called out in surprise.

“Where are you going? We have class in five minutes!”

“I need to check on something really quick!” Natalie hollered back over her shoulder, disappearing out of the school gates before the office officials would lock her in until school let out.

Natalie tried not to dwell on the anxiety building inside of her as she hauled herself through her window, landing on her bed with an oof! She had no idea if her parents were at work already, so using the front door wouldn’t be conducive to her current situation.

Natalie was dumbfounded the more she looked at her room, this time, however, with intent to find flaws. It really was exactly the same, but with slight alterations. Not only weren’t there books or a beanbag chair, there was no birthday doll sitting on her dresser. There were no friendship bracelets tacked onto the wall. Her corkboard still had photographs and notes on them, but they all consisted of her friends from school.

Even the photos of Mike she used to have hanging on her mirror were intact where Satan had previously cut holes in them.

Natalie collapsed onto her bed, staring at her disbelieving expression in the mirror.

There was no sign of Satan anywhere. It was as if he had just . . . vanished from her life.

XXXXX

Natalie returned to school a few hours later when she managed to understand and accept the information presented to her.

Throughout the day she quizzed the people around her about Satan, but no one seemed to have a clue what she meant.

When Natalie brought up Felix to Laila, the girl stared at her quizzically and relocated to a table on the other side of the cafeteria. When Natalie brought up Hell exploding in the forest up in Oregon, Kristi laughed in amusement and leaned in, wondering what television drama Natalie was referring to.

Alex and Max didn’t know anything about a freshman boy she tutored at home.

Mike didn’t know about vessels or God or of the man with his face who’d eventually wear his body like a tailored suit at the End of Days.

When she laid her head against her pillow that night, watching the gentle waves of the orb flowing against her headboard, Natalie’s chest tightened.

Where could he have gone?

XXXXX

“What’s for breakfast, mom?” Natalie asked, yawning into her fist. It was Saturday morning so she remained in her pajamas, trudging into the kitchen on a terrible night’s rest. Normally she’d have slept in, but her mind was plagued with a hardened face with golden eyes. Sleep was just going to keep alluding her.

Alex was in the middle of pouring himself a cup of coffee, alone, when he went rigid and stopped tilting his cup. Hot coffee dribbled down the side of his mug and he hissed, returning the pot to the counter and sucking on his now burned thumb.

“That’s not funny, Natalie,” he reprimanded, his disapproval masked under a sheet of ever present misery at the mention of his wife. Natalie halted at the familiar sight of her father, wetting her lips and blinking away the tired fog from her eyes.

The kitchen seemed bigger, quieter, now. There was no warmth of conversation or food to be shared, just her father preparing for work.

“Sorry,” she muttered and lowered her eyes, trying to keep the mortification from bleeding into her face and tone. “I had a dream last night. I guess I wasn’t fully awake yet.”

The exhaustion still lingered in his face but Alex’s shoulders relaxed at his daughter’s nervous laughter.

“It’s OK, Pumpkin. I have those dreams too,” he reassured with a small smile, pulling out a chair for her. “I can make you some eggs if you want.”

Natalie nodded gratefully, confused as all hell but refusing to speak about it. It wasn’t until Alex placed her plate in front of her and adjusted his tie that Natalie finally spoke up around a mouthful of eggs.

“Is Max still in school?”

“Yes. I don’t think his summer break is until a few months from now. Why?”

“No reason,” Natalie lied, taking a large sip from her milk. When Natalie felt her father’s gaze persisting, she peered up through her messy bangs with a befuddled smile. “What?”

“I’m just surprised,” Alex laughed. “Usually you’re up early on Saturdays.”

“I am?”

“Yes. You have that Stan boy coming over to tutor and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this casual around him,” he explained, gesturing to Natalie’s oversized t-shirt and sleep tousled hair. She gaped at him, coughing when she choked on her food, eggs spraying the table.

“Stan’s here?” Natalie asked, wincing at how loud her voice was. Alex made a noise of affirmation, wiping off the mess she made.

“Well, not yet. He usually comes over in ten minutes, but I - Pumpkin, where are you going?” Alex started, jolting back in surprise when Natalie scurried out of the room.

She tripped and fell onto her carpet when trying to remove her pajama bottoms too quickly. Pulling a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt over her head, Natalie quickly threw her hair up and washed her face, the anticipation palpable.

She felt a grin pulling at her lips as she put on her deodorant when she peered around her room, the familiar doll and beanbag in place.

The doorbell rang when Natalie was making her bed. She forced the corner of her comforter into the wall and threw a pillow over it, yelling when the doorbell rang again and again.

“I’ll get it!”

Natalie hopped out of her room, smiling to herself when she approached the living room, Alex already answering the door and talking with their visitor pleasantly. Natalie sidled by her father, turning her eyes up to greet her best friend; it had only been a day but she missed him.

Her smile fell.

“It’s about time. Why are you so out of breath?” Satan asked, eyeballing Natalie with reluctance.

“Y-you’re tall,” was all Natalie could eloquently reply with. She glanced to her father anxiously, but Alex never stopped smiling at the two of them.

“Yeah?”

Natalie cleared her throat. “No reason. Just thought you should know.” She laughed mechanically, to which Satan pursed his lips in reply.

“I’ll let you two kids get to it, then. I’ll see you for dinner. Feel free to join us if you’re still here, Stan,” Alex said, draping his coat over his arm. Satan stepped out of the way and nodded, watching as Alex drove out of sight before shutting the door.

“I hate doing this. I can’t tell you how annoying it is to wait outside until eight every fucking Saturday,” Satan grumbled, knocking Natalie’s shoulder as he threw himself down on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair with a huff before looking at Natalie again. His upper lip curled back in annoyance. “What?”

“Why do you look like that?”

Satan appeared offended by Natalie’s obvious declaration. “Because I was born this way?” he supplied slowly, as if talking to a particularly dumb child.

“Aren’t you supposed to look like, I don’t know, some doofy alfalfa looking kid around my dad? Not some beefed out giant. Only my friends know ‘Stan’ looks like this, not my family.”

Satan made a face of displeasure, reeling back and cocking his head.

“The fuck? Since when?”

“Since always,” Natalie argued.

“You’re on crack, girl. You’re the one who made me set up this routine, if you remember correctly. I come over to ‘tutor’ you every weekend for your college courses and - What are you doing?” Satan explained, making sure to sarcastically air quote for effect before Natalie leaned in. She cupped his chin and turned his face back and forth to examine it. He slapped her hands away, getting flustered.

“What is wrong with you today, Natalie?” Satan demanded, moving down the couch when she made to sit, burying her face in her hands. Satan grew silent, watching Natalie’s shoulders starting to tremble.

He drew his hand up, hesitating over her back, then decided against it as Natalie sat upright. Satan tucked his hand protectively to his side and shot the teen a concerned frown.

“Kid?”

“It’s the same but it’s different,” Natalie spoke after a beat. She turned to Satan but she didn’t look like she was going to cry, much to his relief. She wasn’t smiling, however, and that was concerning enough.

“What’s different? You’re going to have to give me a little more information than that.”

Natalie took a breath and began to tell Satan of her day. He sat quietly, his expression unreadable as she recited about her mother and her family together, his lack of presence in her life with her friends and relatives, and his personal belongings vanishing.

By the time she finished, Natalie felt ten years older. She held out her hands, as if to say ta-dah! with no real enthusiasm. Satan folded his arms across his chest and hummed in thought.

“Are you sure you didn’t dream this or anything, kid?”

“I swear I didn’t,” Natalie denied, frowning that Satan would even doubt her on something this serious. When he saw the bitterness on her face he held up a palm in surrender.

“Alright. I believe you.”

Natalie didn’t know how much she needed him to say that until some of the pressure in her gut subsided. She wasn’t crazy and she hadn’t imagined yesterday. Something weird was going on.

“Did you eat anything or talk to anyone strange yesterday? You are the Prophecy Child. There is a possibility someone did something to you.” Even the idea of this possibility had Satan gripping his biceps until his knuckles turned white.

Natalie slowly shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Aside from everything being different, yesterday was normal. I didn’t see . . . anything . . . superna . . .” Natalie started, then her voice faded out. Satan raised an eyebrow.

“The plant.”

“The what?”

Natalie shot up from her seat, shocked that she hadn’t realized sooner. “Jurassic Park!”

Satan protested as Natalie began to drag him down the hallway, huffing and puffing while trying to maneuver the resisting hulk of a man into her bedroom. With a final shove, Natalie pushed him inside and gestured dramatically to the orb.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know. I bought it the other day from that weirdo shop you took me to a while ago. You know, the first day of the end of the World?”

Satan stopped eyeballing the glowing plant to scowl at Natalie. Natalie waved him away dismissively.

“I know, I know. Humans shouldn’t shop there. He said this is an opportunity presenter. What do you think that means? Do you think it has something to do with your vanishing act yesterday or your relationship with my dad today?” Natalie asked, biting her nail in apprehension.

Satan picked up the orb and studied it, twisting it around before setting it back down.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

XXXXX

“Why must you insist on harassing me? You do know I lose customers any time somebody even hears about you two coming in here,” the shopkeeper sighed, sneering into a bookshelf he was stocking when Natalie and Satan entered.

“We’re not buying anything,” Natalie reassured, tapping her fingers together nervously. She glanced at Satan for help but he refused to look at her. Instead, he removed the orb from the backpack he was wearing.

Upon its reveal, the shopkeeper stopped what he was doing, the surprise evident on his face now.

“Where did you get that?”

“I bought it from you two days ago,” Natalie explained.

“No, you didn’t.”

Natalie scratched her head in frustration, messing up her hair in the process. “You did, but you just don’t remember it.” When the man made to open his mouth for what was most likely another scathing reply, Natalie beat him to it. “And I know that sounds stupid, but I really did buy this. I just want to know what it does . . . ‘cause I think it did something weird to me.”

The shopkeeper set the book down he was holding and regarded both Satan and Natalie like they were germs he was about to get infected with. Natalie stood with hope when she saw the gears slowly moving behind his gaze as he debated something internally before he moved forward, jutting his hand out impatiently.

Satan deposited the orb into his hands, watching him inspect his own product.

“So?” Natalie asked, holding her breath. “Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a plant that’s been blessed that used to grow on the edge of Eden, or so the rumor has it. Hatkhala Khadasha, or the plant of fate. New opportunities and such,” the shopkeeper explained, looking down his nose at Natalie like it was obvious to know this.

“Yeah, you said something like that to me before. But I don’t really get what it means. You said it might help me, though.”

“It will allow you to choose the fate you want.”

Natalie stared, long enough to make him visibly uncomfortable, so he sighed in exasperation. The shopkeeper gestured for Natalie to move closer, then pointed to the dead leaves on the outer portion of the orb.

“See this here?”

Natalie nodded.

“These are two dead fates. The Hatkhala Khadasha dies until you decide to nurture the fate you choose, according to the legends. The owner shall keep waking up to new worlds with new scenes, though it will be nothing too different from the original experiences you’ve had. When you like a world, you break the glass and water the plant.

“If you don’t water the plant once a day, more leaves will fall off and the cycle will continue. You happy now?”

Natalie floundered when he tossed the orb back, almost dropping it.

“So, it’s like an episode of Twilight Zone and every day is the same world, but the events around me are different?” Natalie asked.

“To dumb it down, yes.”

Natalie’s fingers flexed over the glass, leaving wet prints of sweat where her skin had been. She stared at the jungle-like foliage inside, tinted purple and blue as if it imprisoned fireflies inside of it.

“So, he’s not the Satan I spent the last year with? He’s just a version of him that could’ve happened?” Natalie asked, glancing at the man beside her. Satan frowned at her words, turning to the shopkeeper for answers.

“Something like that.” He sighed when Natalie’s expression fell to worry. “You don’t have to pick this fate. Let the plant die tonight and pick the one you want to live in. Christ, I can’t believe a version of me actually thought selling this to someone as stupid as you was a good idea.”

“What if I don’t like any of the fates I get?” Natalie asked, squinting at her reflection in the orb. So each of the many leaves inside held a different life she could live? Hard to believe.

“If you don’t let the plant completely die, come see me and I’ll fix it,” the shopkeeper said, clearly very bored with this conversation. He walked back to the bookshelf and began placing the books back up.

“Thank you!” Natalie said, no longer worried about this ball in her possession. She smiled down at it, holding it close to her chest.

If he could reverse this, then there wouldn’t be any problem in seeing all of her other options, right? In the end Natalie didn’t see herself picking any of these worlds. She’d always come back to the Satan she knew.

Satan eyed her quietly as they walked to the exit, suspiciously silent throughout this whole exchange.

He held the door open for Natalie, the bell jingling signifying their departure before Natalie snapped her fingers. She turned around and called out to the shopkeeper once more. He lowered his eyelids and stepped off of the ladder, looking to her expectantly.

“What happens if the plant dies?”

“Don’t let it die.”

“OK, but what if -”

“Don’t let it die.”

And that was the end of that.

XXXXX

Now that her fears had been assuaged, Natalie enjoyed the rest of her day like she would any other. All the while she did, Satan had hardly spoken a peep.

It wasn’t until Natalie was climbing into bed when he finally spoke up.

“You’re not going to break it?”

Natalie slid under her blanket, rolling her head on her pillow until she could see the two glowing lights that was Satan staring at her. Beside her bed sat the orb, looking as healthy as ever. It was hard to believe every day this plant was dying.

“Why? Did you want me to break it?”

Satan shrugged, averting his gaze.

“I don’t see a difference, dude,” Natalie spoke softly, trying to comfort her friend when she caught his eyes again. He was clearly upset, though she knew he’d never admit it out loud to her. “I don’t even belong here. Not with you. I have my own family and my own Satan. You’ll be fine when your Natalie wakes up tomorrow.”

Satan frowned, slumping down in the beanbag chair, but he didn’t protest.

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Night.”

Natalie rolled over, fiddling nervously with the edge of her pillowcase. For some reason a knot of guilt tied inside of her. She shook it off as best she could, however, choosing not to dwell on it.

Tomorrow was a new day.

Beside her a leaf slowly withered and died, falling to gather with the rest on the bottom.

XXXXX

Natalie adjusted quite quickly the mornings she was presented with. The shopkeeper had been correct; each day was her own reality, just altered slightly.

Some days the alterations were so minor that she’d barely caught on to it, such as Satan hating sweets, or Max living at home. Other days she woke to a life drastically different to her own in the personalities of her peers.

There were even some days she woke up still contracted.

Natalie grinned sheepishly over the scrapes on her knees while Satan scowled above her. She could see the patches of dried blood stained on his jeans from how she’d fallen down the stoop outside.

“I forgot,” she admitted.

“We’ve been contracted for a year now. How do you just forget this?” Satan retorted sarcastically, shuffling around in the first aid kit to find some bandages.

Natalie bit her lip and shrugged. All she could do was smile and hope the subject died every time. There was no point in bringing up her knowledge to any of these Satans. It was too much of a hassle and she didn’t need to give them any extra stress.

If they were just going to get their own version of Natalie back tomorrow, then it was probably best anyway that they weren’t aware she didn’t belong here.

“So . . .” Natalie started, making sure her voice was non confrontational. Satan bandaged her knees, only giving Natalie a brief noise of question in his throat in response. “I forget. What happened at Titus’ warehouse again? I mean, cuz we’re contracted and all.”

Satan’s gaze flicked up to hers, confusion on his face. Natalie beamed.

“Just curious. It was hectic there, you know.”

Satan must’ve been content with her answer because he didn’t look suspicious. His eyes dropped down to Natalie’s knees again and he continued wiping them with the antibacterial cloth.

“He wasn’t there. I just walked in and grabbed you, remember? I’m not sure what’s so ‘hectic’ about that, kid.”

“What? Weren’t there angels and fire and stuff?”

Satan snorted. “What are you talking about?”

Natalie fisted her hands against the material of her shirt. OK, so clearly there hadn’t been a confrontation yet . . . A shiver ran down her spine and she glanced behind Satan, suddenly more aware of her surroundings.

Was Titus still out there?

“You, uh,” Natalie cleared her throat, setting one of her hands over Satan’s. He stopped what he was doing to stare at her in surprise. “You won’t let me get taken somewhere again, right?”

Natalie took a moment to stop glancing around her street, finally allowing her gaze to settle in front of her. She flinched with how stony Satan’s expression was, but there was some comfort in that.

“Never.”

Her fingers flexed, then gripped onto his hand. She was satisfied with that.

XXXXX

There were days Natalie hated with this plant. But it wasn’t like she could do much about it, except for ride it out until nighttime.

These particular days were the ones where Satan hated her.

She sat on the other side of the room as the man who she had come to know as her best friend glared daggers at the television. This man, in this reality, apparently never found her personality quirky but charming, instead just finding her obnoxious. He didn’t find her laugh to be warm, he just thought it was grating and aggravating.

This Satan hated her for keeping him housed like some child or a dog on a leash.

Natalie kept to herself most of the day, avoiding eye contact. She had gotten too close when passing him before bed and he had grabbed her arm, making her wince. When she met his eyes it felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her.

No one had ever looked at her with so much contempt.

Satan had shoved her away and left through her window after that, but Natalie had a hard time bouncing back for a few moments. She didn’t ever want to be privy to that look ever again.

Not if she could help it.

She crawled into her bed and shut the light off, staring at the orb, willing another leaf to finally fall.

XXXXX

One of the most shocking days came when the orb was half full of dead leaves. Natalie shook it around between her palms like a magic 8 ball, trying to get a better look inside. Somehow it was still glowing, but she wasn’t sure what was causing the light to peek through the cracks in the leaves.

If it wasn’t the plant that was doing it, then was there something else inside of it?

Natalie heard the front door open, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the glass ball on her lap. She could see Satan in her peripheral and waved to him.

He hesitated when he approached, raising his eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t talk. Thinking.”

“You can’t talk and think at the same time?” he asked, unamused. Natalie shook the orb again, hoping that some of the leaves would fall away to reveal what was at the center.

“What is that thing, I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Natalie tapped the glass, putting her ear to it. It didn’t make a sound, no movement inside. She let out an exhale through her nose and finally put it down. When she glanced up at Satan something seemed different about him. He looked more . . . relaxed.

“It’s a night light,” Natalie lied.

“A night light,” Satan said, deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.”

He took one last look at the ball before she could see him lose interest. Satan shifted, moving towards the kitchen.

“Did you want a drink?”

Natalie leaned back against the sofa, pulling her legs in in a gesture to let him pass. “Sure, I could use a soda, I guess.”

She smiled at him.

Satan smiled back.

“OK, be right back.”

Natalie reached forward just as Satan walked in front of her, intending to grab the remote on the coffee table and turn on the television. She had not expected in doing so that her friend would bend down and kiss her.

Natalie froze, as if someone had poured ice down the back of her shirt.

It had only been a brief peck, barely a brush of skin on skin, but it blindsided Natalie enough to stare blankly ahead.

In what universe had he mistaken that for any kind of advancement towards him? Natalie pulled her arm back and ran her hands over her face, her eyes wild as she turned her head towards the sounds coming from the kitchen.

There was no way she had led Satan on just by leaning forward as he had tried to pass her. Unless . . .

“S-Satan!” Natalie shouted, sitting rigid on the sofa and beckoning her friend. Satan’s face emerged from the kitchen, slight irritation marring his features at the volume of her voice.

“What?”

It took a few attempts for Natalie to speak over the knot in her throat, her tongue feeling heavy and useless in her mouth. She wetted her lips.

“Are we- I mean, here and now, are- Do we . . .” Natalie coughed into her hand, trying her best to smile, despite the heat crawling up her collar. “Are we . . . together?” she finally supplied, rolling her wrist in a vague gesture.

Satan blinked.

“Uh, yeah?”

“O-oh,” Natalie gulped. “OK, then.”

Satan waited to see if Natalie said anything else, but she merely continued to stare at him with a ambiguous look of constipation. He shook his head, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Natalie gripped her shirt where her heart was, trying to compose herself before Satan came back. This was not good. She hadn’t considered any possibilities that she and Satan were . . . that they did anything like that together . . . that he loved her in the way that she . . .

Natalie shook her head and slapped her legs.

“Who cares? It’s not a big deal. If there are versions where he hates me, it only makes sense that there are versions where he loves me, too,” Natalie muttered to herself with a laugh.

Satan meandered into the living room a moment later, sitting beside Natalie and handing her her soda. Natalie took it with a mechanical jerk of her arm, nearly smacking him in the face. She apologized in a rush when he scowled, scuttling down the couch and putting some distance between the two of them.

What are you doing? He’s still Satan. It’s not like he’s going to do anything different than he normally would. We’re still friends. It doesn’t have to be weird. Natalie thought to herself while Satan surfed through the channels. He settled on some western movie that Natalie hadn’t seen since she was little.

“This is a good movie,” Natalie announced, keeping her eyes on the screen.

“Uh-huh.”

“I heard it actually didn’t do well in the theatre, but it became a classic, like, ten years later.”

“You don’t say.”

“Have we had sex?”

Satan spit out his beverage, his lap and the carpet getting soaked with Coca Cola. Natalie kept her eyes on the television, ignoring the way Satan swiveled to look at her. She sipped from her can.

“This is a good drink, thank you.”

“What is wrong with you? Who just says that out of the blue? Jesus Christ,” Satan hissed, standing up to get a towel. Natalie waited patiently for him to storm back to the living room, wiping off the sofa and the coffee table.

When she managed enough courage to look at him, he was staring at her, scathing. She looked back to the television.

“Is that a no?”

Satan scrubbed the coffee table harder, then threw the used rag at Natalie’s face. She squawked, removing it with a frown of her own.

“That’s not a very nice thing to do.”

Satan pointed to his face, unimpressed. “The Devil.”

“Regardless.”

Satan shifted his feet, staring forlornly at the television and his half a can of soda, knowing that his afternoon of relaxation was now blown out the window. With a heave of his chest, Satan plopped onto the cushion with an irritated grumble, staring at the floor.

“OK, what do you want?”

Natalie felt that foreign heat start to climb up her neck and rest in her cheeks again. At least he wasn’t looking at her. She didn’t think she could talk about this if he was looking at her. Instead, she fidgeted and ran her finger around the rim of her soda can.

“What makes you think I want anything?”

“You just asked me if we had sex.”

Natalie cringed, hearing how awkward it sounded shot back at her.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?”

OK, that was a stupid question. She’d admit it.

Satan gawked at her now. “I’d assume you’d have been present?”

Natalie groaned in embarrassment, hiding her face in her shirt, pulling the collar up above her face. She rolled away from him and tucked herself into a ball.

“I changed my mind. I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can we please just watch the movie?” she pleaded, her voice muffled through the fabric.

Natalie waited for his response in the darkness she shrouded herself in. Nothing but the sound of her own breathing and quiet dialogue coming from the television could be heard for a long beat. Natalie reluctantly uncurled from her position, removing her shirt just enough to peek out of the hole.

Did he leave?

Natalie’s nose bumped into Satan’s chin and she jumped, trying to curl back into herself.

“You didn’t leave!” she whined, kicking her leg out into his side. He caught it, pinning it to the side of the couch. “I said it’s OK! I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“How am I supposed to leave when you asked the most bizarre question on the planet?” Satan retorted, growling when her knee clocked him in the chin. “Stop kicking me!”

Natalie’s head was pulled out of the safety of her shirt, her hair a frizzy mess. She felt disoriented, but still managed to frown at him. Natalie tried to pull her leg back when they bumped into the orb, the item falling off the couch with a loud thump.

Her heart shot into her throat.

“Don’t let that break!” she shrieked, no longer willing to tease or go along with this anymore. Upon seeing the terror overcoming Natalie’s face, Satan recoiled, allowing her to squeeze out of his grasp and onto the floor.

“Did it break? Is there a crack? Do you see any cracks?” Natalie asked, frantically inspecting the glass. She held it out to Satan, worry palpable on her face, enough to make him hesitate.

“This isn’t a nightlight, is it, kid?” Satan said after a moment, carefully watching Natalie hugging the glass ball to her chest, her expression pensive. “Hey, look at me,” he ordered when she ignored him.

Natalie reluctantly peered up under the fringe of her bangs, pursing her lips.

“. . . No.”

Satan inhaled, long and deep, rubbing the back of his neck. Natalie expected a string of angry questions, interrogating her further on her behavior; to behave like her Satan would do. But he just remained silent.

Natalie set the orb down in front of her, taking her own calming breath.

“Hey, Satan?”

“Mm?”

“Can I just ask you one thing?” Natalie met his eyes, wondering briefly where she got the courage to say the words she’d even wanted to say back home; back where she really belonged, to a man with the same face but who was so very different. “Do you love me here?”

Never had her voice sounded so tiny to her own ears. She remembered the bus stop when she was sick; how she’d told him she loved him and was met with silence. The Satan there wasn’t much of a talker. He was closed off and broody and angry most of the time, but she was patient enough to never push him.

It didn’t mean the silence didn’t hurt a little, though.

The Satan here, sitting on the couch, was looking at her with a sense of subdued surprise. It was brief, but Natalie felt her heart thundering in her chest, waiting for that rejection, before he shut his mouth and nodded.

Perhaps, just a little bit, Natalie was tempted to pick this day to break the glass.

But only a little bit.

XXXXX

In some strange way, the opportunities plant was kind of like clothing shopping.

Every store she would go into would be different, but she would know that in every store she was looking for a dress. And even though every dress was something to wear, they were all different as well.

She could pick any dress she wanted, but they’d all suit the same purpose.

Some “dresses” were terrible bargains that Natalie would never even look twice at; like the reality where Satan died fighting Titus, haughty and distracted, left like some roadkill on the side of the road out in that field decimated by craters; or like the reality where he hated her for being a weak, revolting human that she was.

But some “dresses” were kind of tempting; like the reality where he held her hand more gently than she ever knew he was capable of; like the reality where he’d laugh more freely, as if unburdened for a change because Hell was never put inside of him to begin with. The realities where he kissed her, soft and tender under the moonlight in her bedroom.

In the end, though, none of these were her place to stay. She had gone into this thinking of it like a game. And it had been, at first. But Natalie felt guilty for all the mornings where she was hesitant. The mornings she was tempted to break open the glass and start watering that damn plant to stay with a different Satan.

She chewed at her lip, sighing to herself for even thinking about leaving the Satan she knew.

She was never going to pick one of these places.

“I might as well go return it right now,” Natalie murmured to herself, looking at the orb that was now more than half filled with dead leaves. She held it up to her face, a warped reflection staring back at her.

“I still can’t figure out where this dang light is coming from,” she huffed, shaking the ball around and disrupting the tiny plant that used to be a jungle once upon a time.

“I wonder if there’s a way to see,” Natalie pondered, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Maybe she just needed better lighting.

“Woah, watch it there,” Alex exclaimed, jumping back when Natalie ran into his chest. Natalie yelped in surprise, unaware that her dad had been home this entire time.

The orb hit the tiles with a loud crash, shattering at her feet.

Natalie’s mouth fell open, horrified at the shards now littering the floor. The opportunity plant lay on its side, the scattered leaves that had died surrounding it like lost feathers from a wing. The blue and purple light flickered, then faded to nothing.

“Holy crap,” Natalie breathed, fisting her fingers through her hair. “It broke . . . I broke it. I don’t even know what reality this is yet and I broke it,” she rambled hectically under her breath, bending down to collect the leaves and shards of glass. Her hands trembled so violently she nearly missed every leaf, cutting her fingers open in the process.

“Woah, woah, hold on. Natalie, calm down. What’s the problem?” Alex asked, kneeling down to see his daughter panicking.

“I broke it!” she yelled. Alex faltered.

“That’s OK. We can fix it. Here, I’ll get a broom,” he offered helpfully. Alex stood to get a dustpan long enough for Natalie to abandon the glass and dead leaves for the actual plant, shoving it behind her when he returned.

“Was this some sort of science project?” he asked awkwardly when Natalie remained quiet.

“Yeah, uh. It was. It was really important.”

“Oh.”

Natalie cleared her throat, standing on legs that felt as strong as twigs. She kept the plant hidden behind her back so her father couldn’t see. The plant was warm underneath her fingers, and Natalie almost jumped in her horror to feel it had it’s own heartbeat.

“Do you need me to get you another jar? I feel terrible. I don’t want you to fail because of me,” Alex asked, emptying the dustpan into the garbage. He looked to Natalie for a response but she just gave him a tight smile.

“Nope. Hey dad, is Stan coming over today?”

Alex cocked his head to the side. “Stan?”

Natalie swallowed around the terrified lump in her throat. Oh no, was this a morning where Satan wasn’t here? Her hands felt clammy against the waxy substance of the leaves in her palm.

Alex hummed and rubbed his chin. “I don’t think so. I didn’t hear anything about it.”

Natalie nearly collapsed in her relief. She kept herself composed, however, and nodded. “OK. I’m going to go out for a bit. Tell him to wait here for me if he comes over. I’ll be right back!”

When Natalie went to lock the front door, her hand missed the keyhole three times. She cursed until she finally got it, then started running for the bus stop.

“I’m done, alright? I won’t play with it anymore,” Natalie yelled to the sky. Hopefully that shopkeeper could reverse it like he said he would.

XXXXX

“You’ve got to be be kidding me.”

Natalie clutched the plant to her chest, gazing at a grocery deli in front of her. She circled around the building, even through the alleyways, but no matter the angle the reality was still the same: this building was a deli.

Natalie entered the store, the bell on the door jingling behind her. There were two other customers waiting in line, sparing her no attention. Natalie peered around the shop, seeing different meats on shelves and freezers. Nothing about this building was mystical or magical, but she could clearly see from the layout that it was, in fact, the shop.

“Miss?”

Natalie jumped, turning her attention to the bearded man behind the counter. She approached nervously.

“Do you just sell food here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Nothing else at all?” Natalie inquired, feeling desperate. She wasn’t used to feeling like this. The last time she did had been when she terminated her contract.

But in this reality, who knew if that was even true?

“I’m looking for a guy. Short guy, long nose, really tiny. He’s got crazy hair, like he’s never owned a brush before. Kinda looks like a bird?” Natalie rattled out, hoping that this man knew anything helpful. Anything at all.

He regarded her quizzically before nodding. “He used to own this building?”

Natalie smiled, nodding. “Yeah! Do you know where he is?”

“Nah, I’m sorry, Miss. I bought this place four years ago. Haven’t seen him since. I think he moved upstate or something.”

“U-upstate?”

“I think so. Sorry, I don’t really know. You gonna buy anything?”

Natalie pursed her lips, staring down at the plant in her hands. There was a tiny thrumming under her fingers where its heart beat. She covered it and pulled it back into her sweatshirt, retreating from the counter.

“Thanks for the help.”

The bell jingled as she exited, reminding her how close she would have been had she not been clumsy on this particular day.

XXXXX

Satan was sitting on her bed when she got home, arms folded and ankles crossed against her mattress. At first Natalie thought he’d been sleeping. His face was relaxed more than it usually was when he was awake, but upon shutting her door with a click, his eyes opened.

Natalie remained by the door, unsure of what he was going to be like today. There had been a day where he had slapped her. She didn’t dare approach him until she knew who it was she was forced to be with for all eternity.

Gosh, she’d never see the one she wanted to again. Her throat tightened on itself, Natalie drawing in a shallow breath. She kept her shoulders straight and her chest up, however. This wasn’t something she wouldn’t be able to handle.

“Morning,” Natalie greeted, but the lack of enthusiasm in her voice belied her weariness.

Satan glanced at the clock on her dresser. “It’s almost two.”

She smiled halfheartedly. “Is it? Sorry, dude. I lost track of time.”

“Where did you go? I was stuck playing chess with your father for two hours. Chess,” he complained, narrowing his eyes in displeasure.

Natalie let herself relax a little, stepping further into her room at the casual banter. So this Satan wasn’t one of the ones that hated her. That was a good sign.

“I was . . . out.”

“Out where? You don’t have anywhere to go,” he snorted. His eyes tracked her movements around the room, making her feel like an animal he was hunting. She wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans, removing her sweatshirt and draping it over the corner of her computer chair.

“I was out with Laila,” Natalie lied, hoping he’d drop it. Confusion colored his irritated expression.

“Who?”

“She’s a friend from school. You know Laila. We went to Oregon together; black hair. Remember? Gosh, you’re getting so old if you’re forgetting stuff like that,” Natalie laughed.

“You don’t have any friends,” Satan scoffed.

Natalie blinked at him, pausing. “I don’t?”

“No one except for that nerd who talks to you because he feels obligated.”

Great. I picked a reality where I don’t have friends, Natalie internally complained. Well, that wasn’t too terrible. She was an outgoing person. She’d make some later.

“Then I meant I was at the movies with him. Slip of the tongue,” Natalie shrugged. Satan didn’t look like he believed her, but before he could question her further Natalie cut him off. “What have you been up to?”

Satan bobbed his head to the side, squinting at her. “Since when did you ever wanna know that?”

Natalie twiddled her fingers together idly. “Uh, always?” she supplied, sounding uncertain by the skepticism and curiosity on his face.

“Please don’t ask if I’m feeling OK. I’ve heard that way too much these past couple of months,” Natalie stated, rubbing her temples when Satan continued to make her feel antsy under his gaze.

She moved to sit down, her jacket shifting and catching Satan’s attention. “What’s that thing?”

“Huh?” Natalie muttered, not even remotely interested in whatever it was he was saying.

“This thing. Looks like something out of the Amazon,” Satan said, leaning forward and pulling the plant from her hoodie pocket. Natalie glanced at him, going stiff and ripping it out of his hands.

“Give me that! You’ll break it!”

Satan sneered. “Break what?” he demanded, snatching it back. Two petals were forcibly torn off, causing Natalie to scream.

“You’re breaking it! Lucifer, please, don’t make this worse on me! I don’t want to be stuck here with you,” Natalie blurted in her panic, bending down and picking the leaves up. They shriveled brown before they’d even hit the floor. A whine crawled up from her throat when seeing them dead against her palms.

“What do you mean ‘stuck here with you’?” Satan asked from above her, the air grown thick with tension while he’d watched her lament the death of the plant.

Natalie froze, unwilling to dare a peek at Satan. There was something about his voice that raised the hairs on her arms. It wasn’t cruel, but it demanded obedience. Maybe this Satan was more straight edged than Natalie was used to.

“Kid, I asked you a question. What the hell is this thing?” Satan asked. When Natalie remained silent, he frowned. “Answer me or I’ll torch it.”

“No!” Natalie protested, her head shooting up in alarm. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell you. Just, don’t hurt the plant anymore. That’s all I have left.”

Satan cocked his head to the side and waited for Natalie to explain.

“So, there was this shop that used to be in town,” Natalie started. “It sold some really weird things, and I bought that plant. But that plant makes me wake up to a different you every morning, isn’t that funny?”

Satan didn’t smile. Natalie sighed.

“Anyway, I’m not supposed to break the glass, but I did this morning, and if I don’t get it back to that shop guy then I’m stuck here with . . . you.” Natalie awkwardly coughed into her hand, avoiding his eyes.

“And you wouldn’t want to be stuck here.” Natalie glanced up. “With me,” Satan finished, pointing to his face with a scowl.

“Uh.”

“How did you say that and not think it would be insulting?”

“I don’t know,” Natalie grumbled. “I don’t know what kinda guy you are. I’ve met some who are really mean to me. Do we even like each other?” she asked curiously.

Satan balked, looking offended. Natalie could see the red bleeding into his horns the more she spoke, but despite the clear anger on his face, his horns weren’t the only things turning red.

“You’re mocking me now?” Satan growled, standing up from the bed with a huff. Natalie was at a loss, completely unsure how she was supposed to act when she didn’t know what kind of reality this was.

“How am I mocking you? I’m just asking you a question. Do I like you here? Do you like me? This isn’t rocket science. I just wanted to know if you were friendly.”

“If I’m frie- Shut up, Natalie!” Satan hissed. “Why should I believe your stupid story about this flower? It’s fucking ugly. I should just throw it away.”

“No! I said I need it,” Natalie said, standing up and trying to yank it out of his hands. He held it above her head easily enough. He still looked pissed off, but there was a curiosity in his gaze that gave Natalie hope.

“If the flower dies, I don’t know what will happen. What if I die? I need to put it in water just in case,” Natalie explained, jumping up to grab it. She must’ve said something right because the flower was lowered immediately.

Natalie took that opportunity to take it back, retreating to the other side of the room protectively. Natalie pouted in his direction, wondering why he suddenly looked so withdrawn.

“You’re not just pulling my leg with this shit, are you?” Satan muttered, frowning to himself in his unsureness.

“Duhhhhhh,” Natalie spit, intentionally mocking him this time.

“I’ll- Then I’ll get it water,” Satan said, leaving the room in a flurry that surprised even Natalie. She stared at the door in shock until he entered a few seconds later, a pitcher in his hand. Natalie was reluctant, but let him take the plant from her and place it in the water.

“What happens to the leaves?”

“Huh?”

Satan looked up, then looked away, almost seeming ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck and moved to sit on the bed.

“You freaked out when some leaves fell off. Why?”

“I don’t know what happens when it dies, but I do know if I want to leave this version of you I just don’t water the plant. But there aren’t that many leaves left, and for all I know all the other yous are mean. So, for now, you’re the best option I have until I can figure out what to do,” Natalie admitted quietly, her fingers playing gently with the plant in her lap.

Satan gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, now staring intently at the fragile plant he’d almost destroyed with a sense of awe. Natalie observed him curiously, wondering where the change of heart came from.

“You never answered my question.”

Satan’s ears twitched as he cautiously looked at her. He furrowed his brow, but this time he didn’t seem quite as aggravated as before. With a long inhale, Satan huffed and ran his hands over his face, catching on his eyelids as he let them linger in annoyance.

At least his mannerisms are the same, Natalie thought, satisfied.

“No. You don’t like me,” Satan admitted, his voice tinged with a bitterness that Natalie hadn’t heard since she’d dated Jericho.

Natalie paused. “Oh.”

“But . . . I like you,” he grumbled, standing up again. Satan folded his arms and paced her bedroom, unable to keep himself still.

“You seem . . . nice,” Natalie supplied, getting Satan to stop his movements. “Why wouldn’t I like you? I mean, you’re a little obnoxious, but you’re not a bad guy.”

Satan stared at the wall as if he wished he could burn a hole through it with his eyes. This clearly wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Maybe it was one they’d already had?

“I scared your friends away,” he finally admitted.

“It was an accident. You’re the Devil,” Natalie started to reassure. “Some people are just going to think you’re-”

“I did it on purpose and you got mad.”

“Oh.”

Natalie felt the tension coming back, feeling antsy herself now that she heard this admission. She started picking at the carpet threads to busy her hands.

“Well, I can make friends again. If they didn’t want to be around me because of you, then they weren’t really my-”

“And your family.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have a very good . . . relationship with your family right now,” Satan muttered, refusing to look at Natalie.

“Why?”

“There were some fights. And I might’ve been a bit of a catalyst.”

“Oh.”

“Your brother deleted you from his contacts.”

Natalie felt her hands fisting in the carpeting. “What happened? I don’t understand. You seem normal. What’s so different about this reality?”

“Like I said, I like you,” Satan growled, turning around to yell at a different wall. Natalie could see his ears turning red, even from the poor angle she had of him. “I got jealous a lot. I didn’t handle it well. So we don’t get along.”

Natalie blinked. She had not been expecting that. Yeah, there was liking someone, but it wasn’t exactly normal to isolate them from their personal life. Although, she wasn’t sure how much emotional damage was done. Perhaps she could still salvage her relationships in this reality.

“You’re like a five year old,” Natalie said, unintentionally speaking her thoughts. She hadn’t realized it until Satan spun around, furious.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that! Jesus, think before you speak sometimes, Natalie. Everything you say is always so insulting to me. Cut me some slack.”

Natalie held her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Satan frowned, the muscles in his neck tense. Despite the anger, Natalie could see how miserable he was. She wasn’t sure what kind of life this Satan led, or what she’d said to him if this version of herself hated him, but she’d never like that look on Satan’s face, no matter the situation.

“I love you, you know.”

Satan flinched.

“Well, I mean, I just met you. But I meant you as a whole,” Natalie shrugged. “Every single one of you. So, uh, does that make you feel better?”

He stared at her, the fury bleeding out of his form like a deflating balloon. He looked so young here, surprise overtaking him with wide eyes and drooping ears. Natalie couldn’t help but feel for the guy; he’d probably never heard that from anyone in his life, he looked so dumbfounded.

“But you’d still hate to be stuck here with me.”

Natalie averted her eyes, staring at the plant in the pitcher. “I have my own place to be. I can’t stay here, Satan. I’m sorry.”

Satan moved forward, kneeling in front of the plant, something pinched crossing his face. For a moment, Natalie thought the plant had come back to life, glowing dully in front of her again. She blinked, looking up to see the light haze of purple illuminated like a dying bulb from his horns.

“You should probably let this out of the water then,” he muttered.

“I don’t want it to die. What if -”

“So don’t let it die,” Satan suggested, looking at her like she was a moron. Natalie paused. “You said the shop’s not here anymore, right? So see if it’s there tomorrow. Then fix it.”

Natalie hesitated, knowing he was right, but unsure if she wanted to take the risk. Memories of a beach painted orange and pink, of a warehouse caught in flames, of a grinning man glowing practically yellow in excitement came to the forefront of her mind.

Natalie picked up the plant and gently placed it outside of the pitcher.

“Hey, I still have the rest of the day,” Natalie said, reaching out and touching Satan’s arm. He blinked quickly a few times before straightening, looking at the floor like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a good guy, argh!” Natalie yelled, punching his arm this time. He looked at her now, surprised. “If I know me like I know me, then I don’t really hate you. You just gotta not be so controlling. Let me go out with other people sometimes, dude. Believe me, that will give you some brownie points back, OK?”

Satan had that dumbfounded look on his face again, but the dull purple faded away to red. He pursed his lips and swallowed, but nodded.

“Good. So, how about that movie, then?”

XXXXX

“It’s here!” Natalie gasped, jumping up and down, gripping onto Satan’s arm in her excitement. He swayed in boredom, half asleep from the nap she’d woken him up from.

“It’s not open. It’s 6 A.M., kid. Why the hell did you drag me here at 6 A.M?” Satan groaned, yawning into his fist. It did nothing to stop Natalie’s hopping. She quickly tugged at him, standing with a grin beside the door.

“We’ll be first in line.”

“There’s never any line. There’re never any customers. Fuck you, girl. I wanna die,” Satan muttered, placing his forehead against the brick wall and shutting his eyes. He grew still, and Natalie wondered after a while if he actually fell asleep like that.

She reached out a hand to tap him but stopped before she could when he spoke.

“Don’t touch me.”

Natalie smiled. This version wasn’t so bad. As far as she could tell, this reality was identical to her own, except that Satan seemed to be a bit sleepier here.

“Once we finish up here I’ll get you a coffee, does that sound OK?”

“Mrph.”

Three hours later and a sore back, the shopkeeper finally showed up. He hesitated with his key in the lock, noticing the grinning human sitting on the ground and the glaring Devil beside her.

“I’d like to return something, please.”

XXXXX

“You just add water?” Natalie balked.

She stared in disbelief as he added water to the glass, encasing it in a new orb and putting it back on the shelf.

“Yes.”

“Is that, like, magic water or something?” Natalie asked, trying her damndest not to punch him square in the face.

“No, it’s tap water,” he explained dryly, walking away from her and going behind the curtain into the next room. Natalie clenched her teeth together and tried to follow him but he shooed her away.

“So, if I had just kept it in water last night it would’ve grown back?!”

“Yes. Once it grows back the cycle starts all over again. The leaf at the top will be the reality you left. You don’t get to pick your fate. Why would I give you something that dangerous?” he scoffed.

“B-but you said-”

“Yes, yes. You’re angry. You’re disappointed. Go post a bad review on yelp and get it out of your system. Have a good day. Tomorrow you’ll be fine since I’m growing the plant back.”

Natalie found herself shoved out into the street, at a loss for words. Satan blinked up at her from his spot on the cement.

“Get your refund?”

“I think . . . he pranked me.”

“That’s not hard.”

Natalie frowned, opening the door and glaring at the shopkeeper refilling a jar of what looked like something that used to be alive once.

“Before, you told me to not let the plant die. Was that just to scare me, too?”

He paused, snapping the rubber glove onto his hand and looked her dead in the eyes.

“No, you would have died.”

Natalie wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, but she didn’t press her luck.

#satan and me #fanfiction #natan #commission #astarisms

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were-cheetah-stiles · 7 years

Text

The Recruit (Chapter 11) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 62″

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Stan Hurley, Beth, Dan Brunski, Peter Collins, Jacob Clemens & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Separation anxiety, anxiety, somewhat detailed description of sexual assault/attempted rape.

IM SERIOUS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED. you can always just message me and ask me what important plot you missed.

Author’s Note: “y/n/n” means your nickname, like if your name can be shortened to something, if it can’t then just go with your name. “y/f/i” means the first initial of your first name.

Summary: Mitch is forced to take a day trip with Stan to the Ghost Protocol Training facilities, and y/n takes off for New York City to see someone from her past.

Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

"Y/n/n.. Y/n/n..." Mitch whispered and nudged you awake. "Hey, hey... it's me." You flinched backwards in your bed, your legs struggling to get you upright fast enough under your sheets. You were clearly having a nightmare about the attack. Mitch wanted to leave even less.

"What's going on? Why are you dressed?" You asked groggily.

"I heard Stan telling Aiden that he'd be gone for a couple of days so I went and slept in my room after you fell asleep. I was worried he’d come in my room and I wouldn’t be there."

"You're leaving?"

Mitch held up Joseph Heller's novel, Catch-22.

"You're going back to Ghost.."

"Yea and I've gotta go now. I told Stan that I'd be down in a minute, I was just stealing one of your books. I'll only be gone for a day."

"Be careful." You looked up at him with emotional eyes, and he nodded.

"I will." Mitch leaned down and left a lingering, sad kiss on your lips.

"Don’t go." was what you wanted to say but didn't. You watched him walk out the door, your book in his hand, and you sunk back into your pillow. It was still dark out. You glanced up at the bookcase on your wall and saw the space where Catch-22 had been. It was the first time that he had left in a month and you were anything but excited to go through the day without him. You decided you wouldn't.

The perks of being Stan's niece and de facto daughter, coupled with the fact that you had been at The Barn for forever was that you had more free reign around here than basically any one else. You also had your Uncle's cellphone number. You waited for it to be light out and grabbed the burner phone that Stan had given you from the loose floor board under your bed. It was dead. You rolled your eyes and waited for it to charge. The phone finally turned on and you sat on the floor next to the outlet, composing a text to your uncle.

Y/N: hey.. can you text Aiden or Campbell or someone and tell them to give me a personal day?

Stan: everything ok, kid?

Y/N: yea, i just realized that last week was Dad's bday and I didn't go to the grave. I was going to drive up to NYC and visit.

Stan: I'll be back tomorrow, want to wait and I'll come with u?

Y/N: I'd like to go today if that's okay.

Stan: I'll call Aiden and tell him not to expect u today

You walked over to your closet and grabbed a tight black skirt with buttons down the front, a striped blue and white long sleeved top, your thigh-high suede black boots, and your heavier black bomber jacket. You heard the phone vibrate on your dresser and you walked over, your boots slumping around your calves as you hadn't tied them against your thighs yet.

Stan: BMW is gassed up. Be back by tomorrow morning. Take ur phone with u.

You tied your boots up, grabbed your keys out of their hiding place in the floor, and replaced the board. You walked on your tip-toes as not to let your noisy heels hit the wooden floors and wake up anyone in the house. It was barely 5:15 in the morning and everyone was pretty much still asleep.

You walked down to the garage level of the house, which was restricted to everyone but you, Stan, and the other instructors, Aiden, Campbell, and Smith, and unlocked the door. You turned over the engine of your E52 Z8 BMW convertible coup, a classic car that your father had owned, you had inherited upon his death and that Stan gave to you when you got your driver's license in high school. You pulled open the glove box and took your iPhone, charger, sunglasses and wallet out and laid them on the seat next to you. You plugged your iPhone in and watched the screen light up for the first time in ages. You pushed the button for the garage door and peeled out onto the gravel road that led away from The Barn and into downtown Williamsburg, Virginia. You hadn't left the premises by yourself in a long time.

You took the top down, regardless of the fact that it was only the middle of March and it was still cold, and enjoyed the passing scenery and fresh air on Interstate 95 going North to New York City. You typed out a quick text on your iPhone as you drove through early morning D.C. traffic. You got a "see you at noon." text message in reply, and threw your phone back on the seat beside you.

You admired the view of Manhattan as you crossed the George Washington Bridge from New Jersey into New York and made your way onto a familiar block. You parallel parked, got out of your car, locked it and walked up to the beautiful brownstone apartment across the street. You rang the buzzer and waited for a familiar face to open the door.

"Hey Beth."

You sat on the comfy couch and tried to remember the last time you had been in that room. It hadn't been even six months but it felt like it had been forever.

"I'm not used to seeing you this time of year, Y/N, what are you doing up here?"

You rubbed your arm and glanced around the room. "Did you have to cancel any appointments to fit me in?"

"Y/N/N, you're avoiding my question and eye contact. What's going on? Is my Dad okay?"

You sighed and looked at the girl in front of you. She was two years older than you, beautiful and tall, with platinum blonde hair and long legs. "Stan's fine, Beth." You told your cousin.

"You're not fine though. Did something happen at The Barn?" Beth stared at you, waiting for you to stop being evasive. "You're the one who came up here, Y/f/i. I'll cancel all my patients for the day if I have to, you're going to talk to me. You never just come up out of no where."

You stared down at your hands. You dug your fingernails under each other when you were nervous, a habit that Beth was surprised to see since you had been trained to not do it anymore. "We still have doctor-patient confidentiality, right? Even though I haven't seen you in a while?"

"You ask me this every year, and every year the answer is always yes. These meetings stay off the record, there is no chart, and my Dad never finds out you saw me. What does he think you're doing up here anyway?" Beth asked her younger cousin, a girl that she grew up with as a sister when you moved into Beth’s house after your family died in the terror attacks on September 11th.

"My Dad's birthday was last week and he thinks I'm down in the dumps about it, and I told him that I was going to bring flowers to their graves." You finally gave Beth a straight answer.

"Are you down in the dumps about it?"

"Of course... but.." You sighed. You didn't know where to start.

"Start from the beginning, Y/f/i." Beth told you.

"I met someone."

Beth's face lit up. "At The Barn?"

You nodded. "His name is Mitch, and B, he's the best I've ever seen. Stan has completely taken him under his wing and he's training him personally, and he keeps trying to trip him up andget him to fail, but he hasn’t yet. Stan has been, like, whisking him away for special sessions.."

"Wow, he really must be good then." Beth commented, a surprised look on her face. "Did something happen between you two? Did you get caught or something and he got kicked out or..?"

"No, no, no.. he's great. I'm really happy with him and we've only been together, together for a like week or so. He's not why I'm here... well, I mean, your Dad took him on some special assignment before the sun even came up this morning, so his lack of being around is why I'm here, but he and our relationship are not the issue." You were babbling.

"What is?" Beth inquired, watching her cousin's bizarre mannerisms. You weren't acting like yourself at all.

You rubbed your hand against your nose and mouth and scratched at the corner of your eye. You weren't ready to talk about this. "About..." You cleared your throat and sighed. "About a month and a half ago, these three guys tried to rape me in the shower at the main house."

"WHAT?! y/n.. shit, what are you talking about? Does my Dad know?"

"What do you think?" You looked up at Beth with a deadpan look on your face.

"What happened?" Beth fought the urge to scrap her professionalism and embrace her beloved adopted-sister and best friend.

"There were these three guys, Dan Brunski was the main aggressor. Peter Collins and Jacob Clemens were his... lackey's essentially. Clemens being much more involved and much less remorseful than Collins... and anyway, Dan Brunski clearly is the kind of rich white kid who has never been told 'no' in his life and he either liked me or just wanted to fuck me or hates women and wanted to brag about conquering me or was just a regular old sociopath, I really have no idea. But he kept making all these really aggressive advances on me and I was not giving him the time of day. I had definitely humiliated him a few different times in front of multiple other trainees, and he just, I don't know, really internalized it all."

"So what happened?"

"Well, first he accused me of sleeping with Stan and said that was the only reasonable explanation as to how I got into the program. That pissed me off so I punched him in the face. I gave him a bloody nose and it wasn't a big deal."

"Your idea that assault is not a big deal is so far from the reality of what a big deal is, y/n/n." Beth interjected.

You shrugged. "He tried to make a few moves on me, cornering me in the woods or trying to slide his hand up my thigh during class, and I shut that shit down every time... Then Mitch got to The Barn and we had this weird instant connection."

"And Dan was watching you more closely than the other trainees?" Beth had seen the behavior before.

You nodded. "Yea, I guess he was. Honestly, he probably realized that there was something going on between Mitch and I before Mitch and I even did. But one morning, Dan snuck into my room while I was still asleep, he covered my mouth and tried to get under my blankets with me.. to rape me." The breath hitched in Beth's throat and her stomach did a flip. It was one thing when her patients told her these things, but it was another thing when the story was coming from someone she loved dearly. "I stopped him, but he was like 'I see the way you and Mitch are with each other. If you're willing to suck his dick, why won't you suck mine. I know you're a slut. I won't make you beg for it the way he does.' and whatever... I threw his ass out of my room, but Mitch sleeps literally across the hall from me, and he heard the tail end of the interaction, and that was when he knew something was wrong."

"Y/n, this Dan guy sounds like he's done this before, how is he at The Barn? How'd he get through the vetting?" Beth asked.

"I don't know." You shook your head. "But later that day, him and Collins, Clemens and a guy named Brian Keller, tried to attack me in the woods. Mitch stopped it before anything could happen. A consequence, not related to the attack, got Brian Keller kicked out of the program no more than ten minutes later, and Dan blamed Mitch and I."

"So he became more angry, and it accelerated his actions, huh?"

"Later that night, I was taking a shower and I hadn't been in there for more than a few minutes but it was late because Mitch and I had been working out together late and no one else was in there, Dan, Clemens, and Collins.. well, Dan and Clemens... Collins was the lookout. They came in the bathroom, ambushed me in the shower.." Your eyebrow furrowed as you thought back to the incident in detail. "Clemens held... he held my arms back against the wall and Dan stood in front of me, touching my naked body with his hands. He was getting undressed and telling me that him and Clemens were going to take turns and I was going to love it and if I didn't that they would kill Mitch and then they'd kill me." Beth had tears in her eyes as she listened to the story. "Dan... he.." You wiped a tear from your own eye. "He stuck a finger inside of me, while Clemens covered my mouth and hit me across the face every time I tried to scream. I knew, I knew I couldn't take the two of them on at once, so I had to wait. Finally, I became more compliant, just waiting to get the upper hand, and Clemens left so that Dan could rape me. I got on my knees in front of him, and he.. he put his dick in my hand and made me stroke him while he was hard..." You shut your eyes and shook your head, tears streamed down your face. "That was when I heard the bathroom door open and I knew it had to have been Mitch, everyone else was asleep, and we had worked out so hard earlier that we both had to shower or else it would've been disgusting the next day."

Beth nodded, and you continued. "Dan grabbed me off the floor, pulled me against him, and covered my mouth. I tried to climb the walls but they were too slippery, I tried to hurt him and kick at the curtain, but he restrained me. I think Mitch may have already been suspicious by Collins and Clemens just... loitering in the bathroom, and he knew it was my towel.... I kicked the tile hard enough that it made a noise and Mitch pounced into action. He held off Clemens and Collins, which gave me the opportunity to finally take on Dan."

"What'd Mitch do?" Beth asked, her face portraying how devastated she was.

"He broke Clemens' wrist and knocked him out, and he broke seven of Collins' teeth against a sink. He broke the sink with Collins' face."

"Did he help you with Dan?"

You shook your head. "I didn't need it. By the time Mitch got through the other two, I was bashing Dan's head against the shower stall. I broke his cheekbone and temporal bone."

"Good." Beth gritted her teeth.

"Mitch took care of me that night. He literally dressed me in his clothes, put me in his bed, sat in a chair in the corner of the room, and watched me sleep the rest of the night." You remembered, fondly and painfully, how wonderful he had been that night.

"What happened when my Dad found out?"

"I never told him. The only people who actually know what happened are me, Mitch, Brunski, Clemens and Collins."

"You never told Stan?" Beth asked again.

You huffed, a part of you thought that Beth would understand why you had kept the secret. "Your Dad raised me.. he's in charge of my fate as a CIA agent, do you know how hard it would've been to tell him that story and have him never look at me the same again or think that I couldn't handle the job. This shit happens to women in the field, Beth. It just does. They've dealt with it and so have I." You raised your voice at Beth.

"Are you dealing with it though, y/n/n?" Beth raised her voice right back. "What happened to Dan and the other two?"

"Dan had to get facial reconstructive surgery.. multiple surgeries from what I hear. Collins and Clemens were gone for a while, but now that they can both fight again, they're back at The Barn."

"So you're just living with your attackers?! y/n, holy shit. This is insane." Beth was getting more and more upset.

"Beth..."

"What about Mitch? I'm surprised he hasn't told Stan.... He has to know how ridiculous this is."

You lowered your eyes from Beth. "...He's wanted to tell Stan from the start, but he hasn't because I asked him not to."

"That's bullshit, y/n/n, and you know it."

"Beth, you're losing your therapist hat right now.." You warned your cousin.

Beth shook her head and tried to regain her composure. She leaned forward and looked at you. "What happens when you try to have a relationship with another man, Y/N? Like Mitch, for example."

"Mitch and I finally had sex about a week ago."

"How'd it go?" Beth knew that you were about to prove her point.

"It was hard... at first, but Mitch.. he kept me in the moment and he was tender and he was there holding me and making sure I knew it was just us and he would stop if I needed." You divulged your secrets to Beth.

"What happens when Mitch wants to be a little rougher in the bedroom? Maybe do it doggy style or something less 'tender'? What happens then, y/n? Are you having any side effects from what happened? Panic attacks? Flashbacks? Nightmares?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"......All of those."

Beth sighed. "Oh, y/f/i... fuck." She got up and hugged you, then sat on the couch next to you. "If this happened a month and a half ago, why are you only telling me now?"

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, and looked at Beth. "I thought that there would be some improvement by now, and there just hasn't been and I want to be with Mitch. I am falling for him, but I am never going to be able to give him everything of me, and he is always going to walk on eggshells around me, if I can't figure this shit out." You wiped a tear from falling down your cheek. “On top of that, the nightmares and the panic attacks. I don’t know how much longer I can hide them.”

"You've gotta get rid of those guys.. if Dan comes back.."

"I know." You confirmed that you understood that no good could or would come from Dan Brunski returning to The Barn.

"Getting rid of your attackers is the first step. Coming back up here and talking to me in a more regular fashion would be a good second step.. the rest of it, y/f/i, unfortunately, the rest of it is just time and talking. Talking about it, confronting what happened, whether it be with Stan, or Mitch, or me, or someone else, not letting it be a secret.. it'll lose it's power over you. Communication will also help in regards to being intimate with Mitch. Be explicit with what you expect and what you want and what you're struggling with."

"And then time."

"You're just going to have to wait. 'Time heals all wounds', you know?" Beth reiterated an old saying, and took her cousin's hands in her own. "Y/f/i, I am so sorry that this happened to you. I know they prepare you for the possibility of it happening in the field, but at training?" Beth shook her head. "It's not fair. I could kill those guys."

"You sound like Mitch." You said with a small and short chuckle.

Beth leaned back on the couch, copying you. "What's he like?"

"Intense... and smart and kind and so. fucking. sexy. Beth, oh my god." You couldn't help but laugh.

"How old is he?"

"My age. A few months younger, but he doesn't act it. He's been through some shit too. I don't know. He's amazing. He's kind and witty and he has a smile that just knocks me to the ground, every time." You were grinning. "You know, Easter is coming up..."

"Dad's doing the cover story exercise?"

"I think so. I told Mitch about it and we thought we'd come up here for the break. Maybe you could meet him." You offered.

"I'd love that." Beth glanced at the clock. "Oh shit.. I have someone waiting in the waiting room."

You shook your head. "It's okay. I have to get to the cemetery before it closes anyway. I'll see you in a couple weeks?"

Beth nodded and hugged you.

You drove around Manhattan for an hour, revisiting old haunts and hangouts, but avoiding the Lower East Side, where you grew up. You brought flowers to the 9/11 Memorial fountains and placed them on your parents and brother's names. You got back in your car and drove to the cemetery. You placed flowers at their graves and sat to talk to them for a while, then got back on the road.

It was late and you didn't want to have to get a hotel and drive early in the morning to get back before shooting range at 0700. Your iPhone rang and "S" popped up on your caller I.D. You picked it up.

"Hey."

"Hey. How was it?" Stan asked through the speaker.

"Fine. Thanks for letting me go. I needed it. Talked to them, got some pizza, I feel re-energized." You only told half the story.

"Anytime. You on your way back?" Stan usually used nicknames for you, just like Beth did, but he wasn't so you knew that Stan wasn't alone.

"Yea, I just passed into Maryland on 95. You?"

"Just got in the car. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yep."

Stan hung up the call. You shifted the car into fifth gear and sped back to The Barn.

You pulled onto the gravel road back to The Barn behind Stan's black SUV. You smiled because you knew that Mitch was inside. You pulled into your spot in the garage and threw your iPhone, wallet, and charger back in the glove compartment. Stan shook his head at you as he got out of his own car. It was so much easier to hide the truth when none of the recruits knew that you had access to a car and they did not.

Mitch stepped out and tried to act surprised, although, he was surprised since you never mentioned that the classic BMW in the garage was yours, or at least, yours to drive. You pocketed your keys, nodded at Mitch and Stan, and walked inside.

"How does y/n have a car here?" Mitch asked Stan as they followed you up the stairs.

"She's been here for three years, Rapp. She gets some amenities that the rest of you will eventually earn as well." Stan lied. You had a car because you were his niece and, unlike the other recruits who got to go home on breaks, The Barn essentially had been your home for the past few years. Letting you keep a car there was the least Stan could do. "Don't worry about it, Rapp. Just go to bed. You did well today."

"Thank you, sir."

Mitch headed off after you. He looked at his watch. It was just past midnight.

What’d you guys think? Let me know! and as always, if you’d like to be tagged. Get your requests in soon for the Recruit, because I will probably stop taking tag requests in the near future for this series.

@chivesoup @confidentrose @alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @kalista-rankins @parislight @cleverassbutt @damndaphneoh @mgpizza2001 @chionophilic-nefelibata @sarcasticallystilinski @teenage-dirtbagbaby @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @alizaobrien @twsmuts @rrrennerrr @sorrynotsorrylovesome @iknowisoundcrazy @5secsxofamnesia @vogue-sweetie @therealmrshale @twentyone-souls @sunshineystilinski @snicketyssnake @xsnak-3x

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smolsassygay · 7 years

Note

Trish is kidnapped and they drugged her, so besides Jessica freaking out and saving her she deals with the aftermath of her grind drugged and reviving the past of Trish addiction

Hii! Thank you so much for sending this! :3I’ve taken a few days to work on it but here you go!

You can also read on AO3

~~//~~

Normally, a call from Dorothy Walker would be the last thing you’d accept, but the text she had left you was enough to instantly put you on the edge and turn a visit from that bitch into something acceptable. This is beyond anything else, beyond your despite for the women or the fact you still wanna punch her Botox face every time you see her. It doesn’t matter. This is about Trish.

“Jessica, please answer your phone. Patricia has been kidnapped.”

Your first reaction upon reading that text was to instantly drown yourself in guilt for ignoring Dorothy’s previous calls. Maybe after six in a row, you should’ve answered. But as always, you were too proud. And now it’s been hours since Dorothy got the text in the first place and if anything happens to Trish, you’re never gonna forgive yourself. If there’s anything, anything at all that still holds you in place, it’s her. And if you ever lose that, you don’t know if there’s gonna be anything left of you.

You still wanna punch Dorothy’s face, though. She’s sitting in front of you, at the office table. Tears streaming down her face as if she has ever cared enough about Trish and didn’t suck the life off of her with that stupid Patsy brand. Hypocrite.

“We both know there’s no time to talk or argue. Yes, there’s a hole in my wall. No, you cannot make a comment on how crappy my apartment is. Now show me your goddamn phone.”

“I don’t think I can watch it again, Jessie… Please.” She passes you her phone, there’s a video frozen at the beginning but you can already see Trish’s silhouette behind the giant play icon. You click on it.

You’ve seen this kind of shit before. There was a particular case which still resides within you where a little boy was kidnapped and beaten up, but you did get to save him in the end. Still, the memory of his bruises and wounds are nothing compared to what you see now.

It’s cliché, but still sucks. There is a dark room with nothing but a chair which she is tied up to. Still conscious, thank God, but her eyes seem off. She is staring into the ceiling, laughing on her own. You can’t quite tell from the video, but you know her pupils are dilated. You’ve been through this before. More than you’d like to remember.

She’s high. Worse than that, she’s tripping.

You don’t have much time to think about it because a person wearing a piece of cloth over their face with two little holes cut out for the eyes appears in front of the camera. Your trained eyes analyze their figure as best as you can in the horrible light of the video. You can tell it’s a male. Expected, of course, but it still frightens you. Normally, Trish would be able to fight and defend herself, but she’s clearly in a psychotic state and if they dare to touch her, you won’t respond for yourself.

“Hello, Dorothy. I’ve heard that you’re owning us some money for a while. So, how about we make a deal? You pay in 48 hours and you get to keep your daughter alive. But don’t worry! I can’t tell where she is right now, but I’m sure she is having a good time!” He dares to fucking laugh. Trish laughs with him and the video goes off.

“What the fuck, Dorothy?! You’re owning money? Is illegally gambling a part of your futile high society activities now?!” You can’t really handle yourself. Before you can even noticing, Dorothy is being raised above your head level and your hands hold her by the neck. You stare fiercely at her. She’s scared of you. She’s always been. But you hate how much her eyes look like Trish’s when she’s scared, so you let her go.

“It doesn’t matter now, Jessica. It’s just a little game.” You roll your eyes.

“Did you lose everything? Are you broke or some shit?!”

“It doesn’t matter what’s happening to me, Jessie. Pat… No, Trish. Please, I know you care about her.”

‘Care is such a small, insignificant word compared to the amount of feelings you have for her. Care is what you learned to feel for that sweet idiot who’s always around whenever you need help at work or even to fix something in that slumber you call an apartment. Like is what you feel about the bulkier idiot who wanted to help you face Kilgrave, only to find himself caught in his web as well. But with her, the word ‘idiot’ is not even involved.’.

“Yeah, I’m doing this shit. I’m not losing her. You? I’m not so sure, so just tell me what you know about this ‘little game’. And if you know who the owner is.”

****

The “casino” is hidden on top of a coffee place in a fancy neighborhood no one would ever think to look for illegal shit like this, but if you learned something about the rich and famous world is that illegal stuff is very common, but the police doesn’t really punish the white privileged.

It’s not the type of place one would expect to find when they hear “illegal casino”. It’s surprisingly clean and well taken care of. The décor itself is fancy and shiny and there’s three ivory tables where the gambles happen. At this time, around 4PM, only one of the tables is occupied by women who look just like Dorothy, plastic and fake, or man who could not look more cliché. They’re old, look like pedophiles and their pretty tuxedos are smudged by cigarette’s smoke. You roll your eyes. This is one of the crowds you hate the most.

“Excuse me, Miss. May I help you?” The hostess approaches, seeming intrigued by your presence. You wonder if it’s the dark holes under your eyes or those goddamn jeans you wear everyday.

“Yeah, I’d like to speak to the owner of the place, please.” You take on the friendly approach, even though you really just want to punch, kick and take down everyone who stands on the way of rescuing your Trish.

She freezes for a moment.

“Are you from the police?”

“No. I’m looking for my friend.”

“You’re here after Patsy, aren’t you?” She swallows and you notice her hands are shaking. “I-I’ve never wanted to take part in this… I just wanted easy money…” She’s surely no older than 19. In a way, you feel sorry for her and her innocence of thinking that working in a place like this would never get her into any trouble.

“Do you know where she is?” You read the name on her badge. “Alyssa?” She nods.

“I can’t… I shouldn’t tell you. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt…” She sighs heavily, writing down an address. “We’ve lost other girls before, I don’t want to…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You say, being as soft as you can since you kinda suck at that. You take the chance to give her your card. “If you get in any trouble, lemme know, okay? Thank you for this.”

****

You don’t even bother abut being discreet, taking down the warehouse’s door with a kick so you can you enter the place. Instantly, two dudes show up, each pointing a gun at one side of you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Are we really doing that?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

“There’s a debt to be paid. She’s not leaving until the deal is done.” You roll your eyes. These fuckers have no idea on who you are. And they definitely don’t know who you can be when Trish is in danger.

“Oh, I’m getting her.” Is all you say with a little smirk, before ducking as soon as they start shooting. Then, you pounce at one of them, punching the men’s face. Not full force, even if you feel like it, but enough to knock him out. “Oops…”

“What the fuck?! Dorothy hired a fucking karate fighter?!” You smirk, kicking the remaining guy’s stomach.

“Krav Maga. It’s more brutal.”

You don’t know shit about karate or any other martial art, but remembering Trish’s smile when she said those exact words gives you some comfort in between all of that.

Once they’re both knocked out, you start looking around the warehouse, making sure no one else is there as you look for Trish. But before you get to her, you notice something on the floor. It’s an open suitcase and from afar you can guess what it contains. You sit down in front of it, sighing heavily as your suspicions are confirmed. Drugs. Worse. Fucking PCP.

“Shit. Shit.” You curse under your breath instead of your usual loud cursing. It had to be that damn thing. That shitty thing that turned Trish’s life into hell. That and cocaine. You start to shake, taking a few deep breaths, needing a few seconds in an attempt to block those painful memories, but they come anyway.

You were both fifteen the first time you saw her doing. Same way she caught you lifting a sink on the bathroom, you caught her snorting in a line of white powder. She didn’t really notice you at first, but it’s not as if you could keep quiet for long as soon as the initial awkwardness was gone.

“What the fuck, Trish?!” She jumped, startled at first, but then crossed her arms and stared at you with those fierce eyes. A steady glance that grew up with her.

“It helps me, okay? Don’t bother! And if you tell mom I’m never speaking to you again!”

“Trish… She’s not worthy…”

“Shut up!” You were pushed out of the bathroom. And that was the first time you actually felt as if you couldn’t save her.

***

Finally, drifting back into the present, you find a door that leads to that weird room. Trish’s chair is right in the middle of it and the camera stands in front of her. It’s bizarre. But it’s likely you’re both being watched right now and you don’t really know if you have much time before some sort of backup comes so you approach her. Her face is red, her pupils as dilated as you expected. Her whole body shivers and it breaks you inside in a way that shouldn’t be possible for a person as damaged as you are. You approach, but she looks at you in fear at first. Her eyes are red too. She has been crying and that breaks another little piece inside of you that you didn’t know was still whole.

“J-Jess?”

“Hey…” You gently touch her hair. It’s as soft as ever against your palm. You let her locks run across your fingers for a few minutes, hoping that still has the power to calm her down as if did when she had a bad trip. If she isn’t in one yet, you know it’s coming.

When you were both about 17, she had evolved from doing just coke to heavier shit. Her purses are always packed with the infamous “Angel Dust”, also known as PCP. She had a group of “friends” to get high with. Some of them were just like her, teenagers who ended up on the wrong side of showbizz. They all hated you, but you still followed her everywhere. You didn’t trust any of those fuckers to take care of Trish so you kept yourself sober and made sure you could bring Trish back home.

The trips she had with that group were okay. Trish would always be lost in ecstasy and euphoria, laughing stupidly and pointing out how beautiful the world was and how much she appreciated the world around her. It was also during that time that you found out she liked girls as much as boys and wondered if, perhaps, you could feel the same. It would explain why sometimes your eyes would fall on Trish’s cleavage without second thought. Still, you hated her girlfriend. She was always feeding Trish up with more pills, making sure both of their supplies were never out, but that was all she was good for. You were still the girl who would bring Trish back home and hold her close till she was off of her high.

The biggest issue, however, was when she started using at home, whenever Dorothy was away.

The first time it happened, your lazy afternoon nap was interrupted by the sudden noise of Trish’s scream. Your first reaction was to jump out of the bed and run towards that sound, only to find her shrinking herself against the corner of her room, close to the wall. She stared into space, shivering strongly. You had to force yourself to swallow to try and ignore how desperate that made you feel. She needed help. Badly.

“Don’t come close!” She screamed at the nothingness. “Don’t!”

“Trish, what…?”

“Jess! It’s gonna get you too!” She jumped from her place and grabbed your hand, pulling you to the other corner of the room and clinging close.

“Uhn, there’s only us here…” You let out a heavy sigh.

“Only us?! But… But it’s looking at me. It’s saying I’m ugly and pathetic and…” You still remember what it felt like when she leaned against your chest and got your t-shirt all wet with her tears. “I’m so sorry, Jess… If it kills us, it’s my fault. Everything is always my fault…”

How could you ever forget that whenever she had a bad trip, the monsters would speak out Dorothy’s words?

“There’s nothing there, Trish. It’s the drugs…” Was the last thing you were capable of saying before snuggling her close and letting your own tears get lost within her golden locks.

You’re back from those memories again, untying her, but she doesn’t seem to have the strength to get up. Without thinking twice, you place an arm under her thighs and embrace her with the other. Trish wraps her own arms around your neck, snuggling close as you lift her up. It’s relieving. The warmth of her body close to yours, the smell of her hair and neck near your nostrils. She’s there. She’s alive. She’s fine.

****

You decide not to tell Dorothy just yet, heading to your place and laying Trish on your bed instead. It always feels strange to have her there. Like a single flower blooming in the middle of a junkyard. She’s still tripping, looking up at the ceiling as if there’s something looking back at her. You can only hope it’s a good thing now, but she doesn’t look scared.

This is way too familiar. It’s not the first time you lay Trish down the bed and guards her until she is sober again. It takes hours, so you know you’re gonna stay there for a while. You’ve seen her cry, scream and giggle. Sometimes, a different emotion per trip. Others, all at once. Truth is, before you were taken captive by that goddamn bastard and felt as if you were dying everyday, this is what ruined you: to see something so perfect shred herself on purpose.

You sit down beside her, watching every little part of her face. Trish has been clean for so long. It’s not like any of you would be able to handle all of that again. That Jessica still had enough pieces to break herself and fix Trish. Now? You don’t even know if you have enough to keep yourself up. But still, if she needs it, you’re gonna find a way.

You pour yourself some whiskey as Trish enters the euphoric state, giggling on her own and talking about how beautiful the world is. She is aware of your presence again, since she calls you by the name and even smiles at you. You can only nod and smile back. She goes like this for a couple more hours and you never leave her side.

****

“Jess?” She calls when you’re almost falling asleep, an empty bottle of whiskey forgotten on the floor and you can only answer with a “hmm?”

“Please don’t let me come back to it. I’m coming down and it feels too good. I don’t want it to feel good…” Her voice is breaking and you feel her taking your hand and squeezing it. She’s as scared as you are and given that empty bottle which was full a few hours ago, you now know how hard it is to give up this kind of shit. Swallowing hard, you pull her close, caressing her hair and embracing her close. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to have your arms around her as if she was the only thing in the world that truly matters to you. She still is. But for her own sake, you had chosen not to act on these feelings or even let her know. But God, they never really left you. And you doubt they ever will.

“You’re not gonna come back to it…” You say softly, softer than you normally speak to people. She’s the only person who can get that off of you. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” She sounds relieved. You don’t expect her next move when she gently grabs both sides of your face and pecks your lips longly. She tastes even better than you would’ve expected and you can only hope she won’t remember this when she’s completely off. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#trishica #jessica/trish #jessica x trish #jessica jones #defenders

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