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cloudburst-ink · 1 year

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find the word challenge

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you.

It took me a bit but I finally got around to it! I was tagged by @justanothervariant in this post here--highly recommend you go check out his snippets, they're lovely. 🖤

The words he gave me are:

shiver, sleep, dark, light and sigh.

I am going to tag @staykimchay and @bisexualbard .

Your words, should you choose to accept them, are:

glow, hope, fragile, kiss, and monster.

🌃 shiver 🌠

Simple Little Secrets

Slowly, Kim brushes Chay’s stray bangs aside with the dull edge of the blade. Chay shivers when the cold tip of steel trails down his neck toward his collarbone.

So close to where he remembers.

Kim leans in close, resting the knife against Chay’s throat.

He looks just like the Kim from Chay’s visions—dangerous and deadly, a far cry from soft, gentle Wik.

“Talk,” Kim whispers, and Chay shivers again.

“O—okay,” he stammers. His heart is racing. “Okay. You win, phi. I didn’t want it to come to this. I mean I figured it would, eventually. But I thought maybe I’d have the chance to ease you into it a little more. This is all very sudden for both of us, you know.”

Chay searches for the right way to drop the news.

Kim stares down at his knife, impassive. He runs a fingertip along the back of the blade, applying the slightest of pressure to Chay’s neck.

By the cold sting, Chay thinks it might break skin.

It really shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Chay thinks he might need psychiatric help.

Who the hell is this guy, anyway? Every vision has only ever left Chay with more questions.

Kim arches an eyebrow at Chay’s sudden silence.

“You have thirty seconds left to say something that actually means anything, or I start pulling out your fingernails,” he threatens casually.

Chay squeaks.

He definitely still had all his fingernails in his visions.

Right?!

He’s not sure he ever thought to check. He was too busy focusing on Kim. He feels like he would have noticed something like that when he started checking for their matching silver rings every time, since those helped a lot with trying to figure out the timing and order of the vision. But his visions of Kim have all been very intense, so he’s not completely sure if he would have noticed his fingernails.

He scrambles to spill the truth before he risks finding out.

“Um, okay. So. This is going to be a bit weird to explain, but bear with me—”

“Ten seconds.”

Chay squeaks again.

“Okay okay okay!” he babbles. “So, whenever someone touches me—like actual skin to skin touching, not through clothes—I have a vision of their future. So I saw those things. When you touched me. Your hand brushed against me the first time we met, and I saw a vision of—um—someone—calling you Kim? And sometimes I repeat things people say while I’m having visions without meaning to, and—”

Kim interrupts Chay’s blathering with a scornful, incredulous laugh. He lowers his knife and steps away.

“Enough,” he waves a bored hand in the air. “I’m getting insulted now. Try again. You have one more chance before I start getting annoyed.”

“See?” Chay huffs, “This is exactly why I never tried before.”

🌃 sleep 🌠

The Blackest Hours of the Morning

“I’m going to clean the cut on your cheek now,” he tells Kim. For some reason he feels the need to warn him, like he did before he removed Kim’s shirt.

Kim closes his eyes. Chay leans forward and carefully begins to clean around his cheekbone, dabbing the cut in saline solution.

He knows Kim isn’t asleep, but Kim’s eyes remain closed.

“I’m moving to your mouth,” Chay says quietly.

Chay reaches up and delicately brushes a cleaning wipe over Kim’s lips. After a few long, silent moments dabbing up dried blood, he looks up to see Kim’s eyes open again.

They stare at each other like that for some time. Something twists and churns in Chay’s chest and stomach. He procures a fresh cleaning wipe and carefully returns to dabbing it along Kim’s lips, needing something to distract him from Kim’s eyes.

Slowly, Kim tilts his head and leans in to Chay’s hand. A long, dark strand of hair falls over his face.

Chay can’t breathe. He remains as still as possible, afraid if he moves a single muscle that Kim might spook like some wild creature. He wants to trace his thumb over Kim’s cheekbone, but it would only aggravate the wound there.

Instead, he reaches forward with his free hand and softly brushes Kim’s stray hair behind his ear.

“We’re almost done,” Chay reassures him. “You’ve done great, P’Kim.”

There is one particular expression Kim makes sometimes that Chay can hardly bear. It’s the one that first gave him those nervous little butterflies when he saw Wik perform, and the one that kept him safely enthralled in Kim's presence until he had no other word for it but love.

Kim stares at people in a way that strips them down to their core and exposes them. He can look out over a crowd ten thousand strong and every single person present will feel he is speaking directly to them, soul to soul.

Chay feels the full brunt of that stare now—except this look truly is just for him, soul to soul, one to one, in the blackest hours of the morning, in his bed.

He feels completely naked. He focuses on Kim’s injuries, because he doesn’t trust himself to do anything else.

Chay carefully clears the last smudge from Kim’s face, and then he pulls his hands away.

“I’m going to leave you some clean clothes. You should get some sleep.”

🌃 dark 🌠

Desperate Measures

Even from behind, Kim doesn’t look quite like Kim. Not the Kim that Chay has come to know, at least—however much that’s worth.

Kim is splayed sideways across the stone bench by the door, one foot propped up on the seat and the other anchoring him in the grass. His back is to Chay, his body facing out toward the street.

He flicks the flint wheel on his lighter again. It flares to life and snuffs out immediately, clearly out of fluid.

Kim flips the lighter cap closed and then open with a satisfying metallic click. He flicks the flint wheel again. It flares to life once more, and chokes itself out.

He’s holding an unlit cigarette in his other hand, raised to the side like he’s long forgotten about it, and has fallen instead into some kind of uncanny, robotic loop.

Flick. Click click. Flick. Click click.

Uneasiness tightens Chay’s stomach. Maybe he should have listened to Big.

He doesn’t really know Kim that well, does he?

Slowly, making no sudden movements, Chay pulls his own lighter from his pocket. He walks around Kim so that Kim can see his approach, stopping near Kim’s foot toward the far end of the bench. Chay flicks his lighter on and holds it out.

The clicking of Kim's lighter cap cuts off.

Kim raises his gaze and regards Chay with sharp, glittering eyes.

Silence settles around them. Despite the muted din of the city, Chay can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

Kim is wearing the same white shirt from that morning. There are dark stains splattered across the front, black in the eerie glow of distant neons.

human has been blotted out by blood.

🌃 light 🌠

Sulfer & Smoke

“You did well,” Father says evenly. It’s the only praise Kim will get. “Next time, just use a gun. Go clean yourself up.”

Kim’s shirt is stained dark, heavy and wet. It smears black stains over his already sweaty, sticky skin.

He doesn’t mind guns. They’re easy, absolute. Decisive. But sometimes, he finds that a hands-on approach instills a stronger message. In the right context, broken spines speak far louder than bullet holes.

Kim knows better than to disagree with his father. He’s never been yelled at or outwardly disciplined—not even once in his entire life. But there are worse things out there than raised voices and childish scoldings.

He bows his head obediently.

Behind Kim, the club doors open. Bodyguards stream inside, ready to clear the remainder of the club. Kim knows they won’t find anyone—he already handled them all. Eleven bodies are scattered across the floor in varying states of manglement. Kim observes them with vague, detached curiosity, replaying the encounter in his head and making a mental checklist of all the kills that could have been cleaner.

It’s hot out. He shut down the AC when he cut the building’s power. The stink of copper and sweat sits heavy in the air. He brushes his hair out of his face, but it falls back down and sticks to his forehead.

Then, Kim hears one very particular gait traverse the threshold behind him, softer and more hesitant than the others. His eyes widen. He spins around to face his father.

“You promised—”

Kim cuts off.

Father’s eyebrows are raised, daring him to continue. Kim does not test him. A sooty, smokey seed of resentment catches light in Kim’s chest beneath the weight of the silence.

“Kinn,” Father greets, not bothering to spare a sideways glance to his recently-named heir. “You’re late. I’m afraid your brother has already claimed the spotlight tonight.”

Dread pools in Kim’s gut.

Slowly, he turns around to meet his brother’s eyes.

Kinn is pale, his gaze locked on the corpses strewn about the room.

Eventually, his eyes flick upward to Kim. Kim, blood-soaked and empty-handed, alone in the midst of the carnage.

Kim schools his expression and stares blankly ahead, thinking of cold marble, and Father’s impassive regard.

He is not himself. He is his father’s cold-blooded monster. He simply did what had to be done.

“Kim?” Kinn asks softly. “Kim, what have you done?”

🌃 sigh 🌠

Jealousy Becomes You

“What do you want?” Chay asks, and hates the way his voice cracks.

“I want to take you home so you can sleep this off,” Kim answers.

Chay hates that response. It tells him nothing. Kim doesn’t have any right to tell him what to do.

He also really does want to go home.

All of the anger and defiance drains out of Chay at once. He leans forward into Kim’s arms. Kim tenses at first. Then, with a sigh, he wraps his arms tightly around Chay’s body.

For a moment they stand there like that, embracing in a dark hallway, muffled music shaking the walls from the club beyond.

Kim smells like wild roses.

Chay buries his head deeper into Kim’s shoulder on instinct, gripping the front of his leather jacket. He’s acutely aware of Kim’s hand where it rests softly against the small of his back.

He never thought he would get to feel this again.

He remembers the soft, quiet night when he fell asleep in Kim’s arms Ion the sofa, and wishes he could do it again.

The hallway spins around them.

“Okay,” he mumbles into Kim’s shirt.

“Okay?” Kim asks. The question rumbles against Chay’s ear.

Chay nods, not bothering to check whether Kim sees it. He doesn’t want to let go. He’s exhausted. He just wants to hold onto Kim now, as long as he can.

#tag game #fanfiction #kinnporsche the series #kimchay

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lorei-writes · 3 years

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HC: Boyfriend

Premise: Suitors as Modern AU boyfriends. Request: @joyfulenthusiastwitch Character(s): Shingen

Shingen x Reader

Okay, okay, okay, I hope I did not make too many typos.

Content Warnings: minor injury, (past) serious illness, surgery mention

Shingen

You never quite expected for the two of you to get together, the story sounding more so like a romance movie rather than real life. You - a part-time waitperson working at this odd restaurants of sorts, and he - the pianist, the star of most evenings. Your work? Not to stand out. His? To entertain, and to do it well. No, no, for you two to get closer would be ludicrous... Or so you thought, single accident being enough to prove you wrong.

One step was all it would take, your foot twisting to set at an odd ankle, your body falling forward and crushing onto it. As fortunate as it could be, it was the end of the day, the place closing up just either way... Just to get home, it was your only objective, although driving your car in such a state - well, sprained ankle could prove a rather troublesome thing.

As to how it all happened... It was a true swarm of coincidences. First, most of your co-workers have left the place by then, only you and select few other staff members staying late. Second, two out of three people who you knew drove to work could not offer you a lift - one lived at the complete opposite side of the city and had to be home as soon as possible, the other’s car broke and they had to leave it at the mechanic... And the third was Shingen himself.

Quite honestly, you were not expecting him to offer you a ride - he looked tired, and well, it was not like you have ever spoke before. Nevertheless, it did happen, and perhaps due to your confused state, you obliged happily, soon seated at the passenger seat of his car. It was older than you imagined it to be, cosier too, perhaps a little small as well, quite contrasting with the man turning the wheel. The suit he wore did not exactly match the thing, you thought. You could not focus on that for long, however - you started talking then, and later, well, one thing led to another and somehow, before you even realised, you were a couple.

He was your constant surprise, each thing you thought you knew about him proving to be rather inaccurate at best. Smooth-talk-wielding womanizer, a player? Well, no, not really, more of a bear-hug-wielding sweetheart, you’d say. And as much as suits did, well, suit him, he looked no worse in his casual clothes, just normal jeans and a T-shirt, sometimes a hoodie. Real men don’t appreciate sweets? Ah, spit it out now, for Shingen was not afraid to taste even the pinkiest cake, as long as it was sufficiently delicious.

You found it honestly quite amusing.

As it turned out, the restaurant was one of his main sources of income, although he did play at several more places - to return money to his friends, he claimed, but never went into much detail.

Overall, it took him rather long to open up and it was only after several months that he finally explained how he got into such a debt. As he stated, there was a time he got gravely ill and needed to depend on the help and financial aid of his friends for a rather long time, his condition rendering him unable to work. It was the first time you saw his post-surgery scars as well. He felt rather insecure about them.

Dating Shingen was generally speaking, less surprising than the man itself. Over the span of a year, you coined some rituals, so to say, having you favourite cafe you’d visit regularly, favourite dishes you’d prepare together, even the bench in the park you’d always sit on during your strolls. It is not that you’ve never tasted anything new, only that... There was some sense of familiarity, of structure, to everything?

Eventually you’ve started spending nights at each other’s places more and more frequently, which led to you deciding to rent a flat together. Of course, you had to make room for the piano.

The instrument was a lovely decoration in and of itself, but what you really could not get enough of was the look on his face while he played, his fingers dexterously moving over the keys. And you knew he played all for you.

Some morning you’d be awaken by a gentle melody, at hard nights his music would lull you to sleep, Shingen embracing you tightly soon after you’d drift off.

Everybody joked you looked like a married couple with at least a decade long practise period.

You continued to work at the same restaurant - and it would sometimes happen that he’d see you passing by, wink at you and dedicate the next melody to a certain “Goddess who brightened his life”.

You tried to convince him that vegetable cakes are still cakes. He did not believe you. What is worse, your appetite for sugar is just as mighty as him, so you looking out for your diets? It’s an act of sacrifice.

Tag list: @datenoriko, @nad-zeta, @tsubaki3192, @missjudge-me, @ikemencrossedmyth, @nuttytani, @thesirenwashere, @milas-imaginarium, @kisara-16, @yukas-clover, @alerialumina , @cheese-ception , @iamryxx, @cottonfluffballofdoom, @ozziegrl71, @rikumorimachisgirl, @bestbryn, @kink-rabbithole @fairstival If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

#shingen takeda #ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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sweetiepie08 · 3 years

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Rebel Z (Chapter 10 Final)

nvader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

Thank you for reading! I do plan to continue the story in a sequel fic, but I may take a short hiatus first. I hope you enjoyed this!

Be on the lookout for the next book in the series, RevolutionZ! In which Zim and Tak attempt to join the Resisty and gain new companions! Dib fills his gap year by joining an alien rebellion! Gaz gets dragged in too! And what happened to Zim in Death Melee is explained!

However, I will most likely only be posting links to Ao3 than full chapters to Tumblr. Again, Thank you everyone for reading!

[-]

“So, what exactly the fuck was all that stuff with the punch about?” Dib asked once they were a comfortable distance away form the Massive.

Zim glared straight ahead at the stars. “It’s nothing that concerns you, human.”

“Bullshit!” Dib slammed his hand down on the control panel. “Your little stunt could have gotten us killed. Out with it!”

Zim gritted his teeth and gripped the steering mechanism until his knuckles quaked. Dib braced himself for the inevitable screaming denial. Instead, Zim let out a pained sigh. “Fine, if you must know, I figured out three Urth years ago that my mission was a sham and my leaders were trying to have me killed, so I took revenge. Happy?”

“We know all that,” Tak snapped. “And anyway, I told you your mission was a lie a long time ago. What I want to know is how you managed to betray the Tallest without your treasonous thoughts setting of your life clock.”

“Yeah, and who’s Spek?” Dib added.

“You wish to hear Zim’s tale of woe?” He clenched his fist and heaved out another sigh. “Fine. Three Urth years ago, the Tallest contacted me, telling me they selected me to participate in Death Melee, an inter-galactic event that all would be watching.”

“The one where they throw criminals on a planet together to fight to the death?” Tak deadpanned. “That was your first clue?”

“They told me the rules had changed and it was now a contest of elite warriors. For my partner, they gave me a Spek, a smeet just shy of his cadet years. He hadn’t even seen his first cycle yet…” Zim’s fists shook as he cut himself off.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m assuming you won,” Dib said.

“Yes, but…” his gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. Anyway, throughout the Melee, it became clear to me that the Tallest lied. This was still a game for criminals, but Spek…” Zim narrowed his haunted eyes, “he was only there to lessen my chances.”

Dib watched, mesmerized. He thought he’d seen the many moods of Zim. He’d seen everything from proud boasting, to spiteful rage, to pathetic schmooping. But this, this was something else entirely, something he never expected to see from the alien. True remorse.

“On my journey back to Urth,” he continued, “I had too much time to think and when made it back to m base, I was done with all of it.” Rage grew in his voice with every word. “I knew they lied. I knew they’d been lying. For a moment, I thought, if they didn’t want my genius, maybe someone else would. And that thought was enough to set off my life clock. Instead of simply ripping out my feedback chip, I infected it with a virus that sends the Control Brains a loop of my Urth memories, preventing it from receiving new thoughts and experiences.” A bitter, satisfied smile came to his face. “As far as I can tell, it hadn’t noticed anything was off until now.”

“And the machines I saw you building?” Dib pressed.

Zim drew himself up. “I have a contract with the Resisity. I build them machines, they appreciate my genius and send me monies.”

“And that’s what you’ve been doing for three years?” Dib asked, voice sripping with skepticism.

Zim nodded and said nothing more.

Dib stared at him, trying to get a read on this whole tale. He wasn’t sure what to believe. Zim’s reason for existence seamed to be pleasing his Tallest. The little green monster talked of nothing else since arriving on Urth. He couldn’t imagine Zim wanting anything else and he’d fallen for the schmoopy act before. But this was not schmoop. It was too subtle, too quiet. And that betrayal of his Tallest couldn’t be denied. Something had truly changed.

Dib looked to Tak to gauge her opinion, but her face revealed nothing except careful calculation.

“I’d heard the Resisty had been growing and gaining power,” she mused. “New technology granted them upsetting victories and made them more of a problem than they once were. They could be the key. We need to fight if we ever want a chance of defeating the Control Brains and freeing our people, and for that, we’ll need an army. With your connection and my information, we could pose a real threat to the Empire.”

Dib expected Zim to launch into another tirade about how he wasn’t in it for the politics. That this was all a personal mission and he had no interest in going rogue. That did not happen.

Instead, Zim said nothing for a long time. He simply stared through the windshield in tense silence. But then, a grin grew slowly on his face. “I’m in.”

[-]

When they made it back to Earth, they found that Gaz made use of MiMi and Mini Mouse as gaming companions, Dad bought her excuse that Dib was hanging out at Zim’s house, and that he hadn’t even stopped home long enough to notice the two additional robots in the living room.

Dib went straight to his room and laid out all of his recording devices. He had the notes he took the night Zim and Tak rambled drunkenly on the couch. He had the audio recording of the old man Irken that he couldn’t wait to translate. And he had the spy camera he’d been wearing to capture the whole experience. He never got so much undeniable proof on one mission before, and no one, to his knowledge, had this much evidence of this quality ever. He’d be king of the Swollen Eyeball network if he showed even a fraction of…

His eyes drifted to the Swollen Eyeball emblem pinned to his bulletin board and he let out a sigh. The Swollen Eyeball… what a joke. They’d been reduced to a bunch of anti-science conspiracy nuts. The organization became a competition to see who could shout their wildest theory the loudest. What were they compared to a real evil alien empire, a real soul-sucking, Lovecraftian horror, and a real space alien rebellion?

No. This was bigger than some crack-pot conspiracy group. This rebellion universe-shattering consequences. And he was going to be part of it.

[-]

Out in his ship, Zim stared at his PAK connector with warry eyes. He wasn’t sure what held him back now. His stunt on the Massive already solidified his traitor status, but this felt different, more official. It was one thing to enact vengeance on those who betrayed him. It was quite another to completely detach himself from society.

He’d been unwaveringly loyal to the Empire since his conception, but they didn’t want him. He’d seen that years ago. So what was he waiting for?

He disconnected the PAK from his back and ignored the lifeclock in the corner of his eye as he plugged it in. He opened the hatch, clicked a pair of tweezers in his fingers, then reached them toward his feedback chip.

At a light tug, his computer’s voice gave an automated warning.

You are attempting to remove the feedback chip. Doing so is an act of treason against the Irken Empire. Are you sure you want to proceed?

Zim closed his eyes and pulled the chip free.

[-]

Tak’s footsteps echoed as she walked across the concrete garage floor. MiMi’s metallic feet clacked beside her. Apart from that, the room was silent. She was used to silence. One grows accustomed to it when traveling alone through space. But these last few days had been anything but. And with Zim as her dubious ally, silent moments like this were certain to be few and far between.

And yet, this moment, she felt the need to fill it with something.

She popped open the windshield of her ship and hopped inside. “MiMi, my disc please.” Mimi reached into her head and took out the Urth data storage disc. Zim wasn’t the only one with a secret stash.

Tak took the disc from Mimi and placed it in a tray on the ship’s control panel. “Ship, track six please.” As she hopped out, music began to play. Smooth, jazzy horns filled the air and the singer began crooning.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky. Maybe this time he’ll stay…

The song was from an Urth performance art piece. The vocalist sang about some male mate. That part didn’t interest Tak in the slightest. Still, there was something about it...

Not a loser anymore, like the last time and the time before…

The song continued to play as Tak opened the engine access panel and began her work. While manipulating the many gears and wires, she found a few interesting repair methods that the human implemented over the years. Many employed the use of an Urth bonding strip called “duct tape”, which she had to admit came in handy. The human didn’t do a bad job, even if it was pretty slap-dash.

All the odds are in my favor, something’s bound to begin…

She finally untangled a mess of wires and reconnected them.

It’s gotta happen, happen sometime…

She fused together the final wire and the ship hummed to life. Fuel Regulation Systems online.

Tak smiled, “Okay Mimi, looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.” She ducked back into the access panel as the song his its crescendo.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

#invader zim fanfiction #invader zim #iz fanfiction #iz fanfic #zim #dib #tak #gaz #gir #rebel zim #rebel leader tak #zadf #sweetiepie08 #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepie writes #invader zim fandom

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afni-fics · 3 years

Text

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins

In Hindsight: Chapter 7: In the Present... Lie in Ruins by C_R_Scott Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: Jack Drake had lied to Tim about his grandmother's death. However, Jack is also dead himself. Tim attempts to cope with the aftermath of learning the truth of what his father had done. Fortunately, he is not alone.

...

"Jack lied."

Lucius's words were stuck in Bruce's head as Alfred drove him into Gotham City from the Manor. They kept repeating themselves over and over and over again. After about ten minutes of focused brooding, Bruce finally voiced the question he knew he couldn't run away from.

"How did I miss this?"

From the driver's seat, Alfred glanced at Bruce via the rear-view mirror. "You had no way of knowing."

"I should have known."

"How?" Alfred's brow furrowed. "Tim didn't even know? His fa--" The old man choked on the word with a grimace, as if he'd bitten into a piece of bitter melon. He huffed irritably before continuing. "--Jack lied to him for years, and gave none of us any reason to suspect anything coming out of his mouth was false."

Bruce shook his head as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before selecting one. After three rings, the line finally connected.

"You do know it's not even noon, right?" Barbara Gordon grumbled. "What could you possibly want at this ungodly time of the morning?"

"It's about Tim."

There was moment of pause. When Barbara spoke, drowsiness had been replaced with concern in her tone. "What's wrong? Is he alright? Is he having a delayed reaction to the new Fear Toxin?"

Bruce hesitated before answering, making a quick mental note to double check Tim's bloodwork as soon as he could. If Tim was suffering a delayed Fear Toxin reaction on top of everything else, that could further complicate his son's compromised emotional state.

"It's not about the Fear Toxin, though that could be exacerbating the situation in the background," Bruce said finally. "I need you to do some digging into Tim's family history."

"You're asking me to investigate Tim? Why? What's going on?"

"Tim was never an orphan."

"WHAT?!"

"We just discovered today he has a living maternal grandmother," Bruce explained. "But for whatever reason Jack Drake lied to Tim and his mother eight years ago and told them both she was dead. From what I've been told, his grandmother was supposed to have had full custody of him back then. Then she got hospitalized. When she was finally well enough to be released, Jack had managed to sever all ties between her and Tim."

"Jesus Christ," Barbara breathed out softly. "Does Tim kno-- Never mind, of course he knows otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to do the investigating. Is he with you now?"

"I'm going to his place in the city with Alfred to check on him. Tracker says he's stationary at the Nest."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do a deep dive into the history between Tim's parents and his grandmother. Her name is Susan Klein. We need to learn what exactly triggered the original custody arrangement, as well as how Jack managed to take custody away from Susan and hide the fact that she was alive from both Tim and his mother. I also want to know why the hell the courts and CPS didn't get involved back then to return Tim to his grandmother, especially after Jack died."

"You also want to find the rest of Jack's skeletons," Barbara inferred. "Because if Jack lied about something this big to his own son--"

"--What else did he lie about?--"

"--And how much damage could this do to Tim if it's brought to light?" Bruce could hear Barbara indulge in a weary sigh. "Holy shit... Ok... Ok... Ok... Give me an hour to get a shower, coffee, and food. Then I'll start digging. This is all cold case kinda stuff, so it's not going anywhere. Keep me posted if you pick up any new leads from Tim."

"Thanks Barbara."

"Oh, by the way... Who else knows about this?"

"Alfred, Lucius, and Tam."

"Alright. I'll keep this on the down low from the rest of the fam until you can check on Tim. Take care of him, Bruce."

"I will."

With the call ended, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. What was he going to find when they finally got the Nest? He didn't have to wait long. About ten minutes later, Bruce and Alfred found themselves being led through Tim's home by a deeply concerned Tamara Fox.

...

Three months and twenty-eight days.

That's how long it took for Tim to travel around the US and the world, investigate multiple archaeological sites, survive the Council of Spiders, cripple the League of Assassins, save the girl, and return home with proof of his adopted father being alive. So much mileage, blood, and lives lost had gone into the journey to recover Bruce Wayne from the time stream Darkseid had sent him into.

Nineteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

That's all the time it took for Tim to find evidence his grandmother was alive and well and still living in the same house she always had for the past fifty years. He didn't have to leave Gotham. He didn't even have to leave his workstation. All the information was at his fingertips online. All the evidence pointed at the conclusion that his grandmother (and the truth) had always been just a few keystrokes away.

But that couldn't be right. If that was right, that meant his father lied to him and his mother. Jack Drake wouldn't have done that. So it had to be wrong. Tim just couldn't figure out how the evidence was wrong.

"Recognized: Tamara Fox. Alpha-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-One. Entrance: Garage."

"Recognized: Verified Guest. Alpha-Zero-Two-Dash-Zero-Two. Entrance: Garage."

The voice of Tim's AI security matrix echoed through the cavernous space of Tim's brand new "Nest", the hidden vigilante base of operations tucked behind his renovated theater home. The young man barely acknowledged the announcements, though, as he sat motionless at his workstation with his elbows propped up on the desk and his face buried in his hands. Slowly, his hands shifted, sliding down his face over closed eyes to linger over his nose and mouth. Tim drew in a breath through his nose and tried to release it slowly through his mouth. Despite his attempt at control, his breath shuddered audibly as he exhaled. Desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and shifted his hands to press against them. The adjustment exposed his mouth pressed into a grim, trembling line as he struggled to keep any sound from escaping.

Despite his best efforts, a thin trickle of moisture escaped his hands and coursed down his cheek.

Tim heard the hidden door that connected the Nest to his living room slide open, and blindly identified the footsteps of three people walking into his inner sanctum. One of them he was certain was Tam, and he had his suspicions about the other two.

However, in order to confirm them, he would have had to remove his hands and open his eyes...

...and he was not ready to do that just yet.

...

The moment Bruce laid eyes on Tim, he felt his heart ache at the sight before him. There was his son, sitting alone at his workstation, and everything in his body language was silently crying out with shock and dismay.

For a brief few seconds, Bruce froze. His mind was a panicked jumble. What could he do?! What could he say?! How was he going to fix this?!

Then Tim slowly lifted his head from his hands, and he when he looked over at Bruce, the older man's breath got stuck in his throat. His normally confident and unwavering teenager looked so dazed and hurt and utterly lost.

"B?"

A single letter, barely whispered, partly a question, but mostly a plea, was all it took. Bruce's feet were no longer rooted to the floor, and he quickly closed the distance between himself and his son, because his boy had called out to him.

Tim rose to his feet as he saw Bruce approach, and he let himself be wrapped up in his adopted father's arms. Bruce could feel Tim lean into him, could feel the anxious tension in every muscle in his son's back as the boy buried his face into his chest.

"I'm here, Tim," Bruce murmured as soothingly as he could as he stroked Tim's hair. "It's going to be ok."

"I... I don't know what I'm doing wrong," Tim whispered mournfully.

"Wrong?"

"Dad said she died. He wouldn't have lied about that. He couldn't have." Unconsciously, Tim's hand fisted into Bruce's shirt, as if he were hanging on for dear life. "But Lucius says she's alive... Been alive this entire time. And the evidence..."

As more words spilled out from his boy's mouth, Bruce heart broke at the brittle desperation in Tim's voice.

"I have to be missing something. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making a mistake somewhere and I don't know what it is." Tim drew in a shuddering breath. "Or maybe it's the Fear Toxin. An after effect? Maybe it's making me hallucinate? Mis-hear... Misinterpret things?" He turned his head from Bruce's chest and gazed uneasily at the workstation monitors. "Maybe I'm just seeing things? Maybe I'm just losing my mind?"

The fact that Tim's voice took on a hopeful edge at the thought of going crazy sent a stab of deep concern through Bruce. A quick glance at the workstation monitors showed him all the evidence Tim had dug up on his own since leaving Wayne Tower. A lump rose to his throat. When he spoke, he could barely force his own voice above a hoarse whisper.

"You're not hallucinating, Tim. I... I can see the evidence myself."

Tim's eyes widened at the screens, then he shut them tightly before shaking his head. "No... No no no no no..."

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce glanced over to Tamara, who looked close to tears herself, but was managing to just barely hold herself together. She had one arm wrapped around herself and the other held her cell phone. He could see Lucius's name on the screen as the current active call.

"Yes?"

Tam swallowed hard before answering. "My dad's on the line. I told him we found Tim. He... He's with Nana... Tim's grandma... right now."

Bruce felt Tim freeze in his arms. He felt his own heart stutter as well.

"She... would like to speak with Tim, if he's able. She understands though if he's too overwhelmed right now."

Tim turned his gaze to Tam's phone, his red-rimmed blue eyes wide and warring between longing and dread.

Bruce stroked Tim's back. "You... don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured. "We can wait until you feel better... Until we figure things out on this side."

For several seconds, there was nothing but tense silence in the air. Bruce could practically see the gears turning and grinding in Tim's mind. He could see the war play out on his son's face as he struggled to make a decision. Then, finally, Tim uneasily reached out and offered an open hand to Tam.

Tam nodded and raised the phone to her own ear first. "I'm handing my phone to Tim now." Then, she carefully gave Tim the cell, watching as he wrapped his fingers about the edges of the device and raised it to his own ear.

"H-Hello?"

Though he was still holding Tim closely, Bruce wasn't close enough to hear much of other end of the call. He could tell it was a woman's voice, but couldn't make out most of the words. But he could see his son. He watched, helpless, as after a moment Tim's eyes filled immediately with tears and spilled over onto his cheeks. One short anguished sob escaped him before he used his other hand to clamp his mouth shut. Though it stifled the sounds, Bruce could still see and feel the sobs wracking his boy's entire frame.

As Bruce held him tighter, he could hear the tone of the woman's voice shift to something so soothing and maternal that his own heart ached along with his son's. It had the desired effect of calming Tim enough so that the could finally find his voice once more.

"I love you, too, Nana," he whimpered softly. Then, he stretched out his hand and gave the phone back to Tam, who was in tears herself as she took it back.

Once his hands were free and the phone was pressed again to Tam's ear as she spoke with her father, Tim crumpled to the floor as he burst into tears once more, this time without restraint. Bruce followed him down to control his fall and let his son cried brokenheartedly against him.

"He lied," Tim keened between sobs. "He lied... He lied... He lied..."

Tears coursed down Bruce's face as he watched his son come apart at the seams. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred gazing at him with love, sorrow, and tear-filled eyes as well. Though long dead, Jack Drake had broken their beloved boy's heart, and they would be damned if they didn't do their best to put the pieces back together again and make things right for everyone involved.

...

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: This was a challenging chapter to write. I hope I did Tim's breakdown justice. Things will, hopefully, start looking up for him from this point onward for a bit.

As for the length of time I put down as Tim's search for Bruce during the origin Red Robin run, this was just a wild guess on my part. In the comics, there was a map on a page in the first issue showing a map with pins on where he had previously investigated. Based on that, I estimated he had been travelling nonstop for at least several months before being intercepted by Ra's and getting dragged into the League and Council drama along with Tam.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

#rr: in hindsight #tim drake #tam fox #tim/tam #red robin #fanfiction #wip #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam

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ediblegardenspointloma · 3 years

Text

Garden Gleanings

Here’s an odd-lot of garden experiences from the past week. I can’t see any connection but each one seemed significant at the moment.

The first corn silks appeared in my small corn patch last week. That brought to mind the crops damaged in prior years by corn earworm.

Measures I used last summer worked well to prevent damage to the ears of corn. These included a drop of food grade mineral oil when the silks appear and weekly spraying of the silks with Bt. Read the details in this post Corn Problems and Solutions.

So where did this 12-inch purslane plant come from? It just showed up near the sidewalk seemingly overnight. I call it a weed and my husband removed it promptly.

Purslane is a treat for some. I saw it at a farmers’ market in Oregon a few years ago. If you want to read about the purported benefits of purslane check this article at Healthline. At the Specialty Produce entry for purslane you’ll find recipes and more info about the herb (weed).

I transplanted the last of my seed-grown ‘Jericho’ lettuce into a shady corner of the tomato bed. This romaine variety, developed in Israel is heat tolerant and slow to bolt. It also makes a remarkable Caesar salad.

Check my Cuttings: Selected Quotes page where I’ve just added some new inspiring/reflective/humorous garden quotes.

Recently I was sorting some plant tags I had stuffed in a sack many years ago. With the tags was the business card from Ledgerwood Seeds. It brought back memories of visits to the iconic business in Carlsbad to buy bare root strawberries and seeds. If you’ve been gardening or farming in San Diego County you may remember Mr. Ledgerwood. Read more in my previous post Charles Ledgerwood’s Southern California Vegetable Planting Calendar.

What’s been happening in your garden?

To leave a comment, click on “Leave a comment/Show comments,” enter the comment, then insert your name. Finally, click on “Comment as Guest” to post comment.

#corn earworm #garden gleanings #purslane #summer lettuce #garden quotes #Charles Ledgerwood

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blazerina · 4 years

Text

Ethically Questionable // Open Heart AU // Chapter 1

Miami Heat // Ethan x Maggie (MC)

Word Count: 4458

A/N: This is chapter one of our Ethically Questionable AU that @parkerattano & I dreamt up late one evening. I literally thought I dreamt the conversation when I talked with her about it the next morning. Check out the moodboard below that she put together – isn’t she amazing? Mad props to her because all of this is pretty much her idea, I’m just putting a few words out there to help everyone else get to experience this amazing HC of hers. There is plenty more to come and we are just getting started with the drama. We’ve hyped it up a lot because we are Tumblr besties and super excited but we really do think you’ll enjoy the ride too!

Check out our hype posts HERE, & HERE.

Let us know what you think – chapter two will be coming soon!

EQ AU tag list: @mvalentine / @choicesobsessedd / @dulcehernandez / @missmiimiie / @edgiestwinter / @junehiratas / @binny1985 / @datynasuha / @unluckygs / @trinittyy / @lilyvalentine / @honeyandsunfl0wers / @lucy-268 / @choices-love-affair / @parkerattano / @queencarb / @custaroonie / @mkamra2355 / @humanpokemon / @ramseysno1rookie /@unknowntimelady / @myusualnerdyself / @schnitzelbutterfinger / @mvalentine / @jasminedayz / @thanialis / @tefigranger / @kenzierookie / @justanotherrookie / @keepcreativechoices / @heauxplesslydevoted / @ethandaddyramsey / @kaavyaethanramsey / @sherlockedmcu / @edith-eggs1 / @noboundariesplease / @edgiestwinter / @danysims4cc / @tempesreture / @unusualvisionsblog / @chasingrobbie / @mapipa / @lifeof-liv / @3riche-blog / @anonymous2094 / @annaidziaszczyk / @ntoraplayschoices / @jessirosebud / @mskinkyafro / @caseyvalentineramsey /@desmaranj / @trappedinfandoms / @lucy-268 /

*If you asked to be on my Ethan tag list, I just added you here -- but let me know if you wish to be removed! Or added in that case!*

“A world-renowned doctor at a top hospital thinks you’re the best intern. Most people would kill to be you.”

Bryce’s words from yesterday echoed loudly in Maggie’s head as she stared out the window of the plane on the way to Miami. She could hardly contain her excitement. He thinks I’m the best intern…she thought to herself as she replayed her conversation with Bryce for the thousandth time. Dr. Ramsey had chosen her. That meant he saw something in her. To him, she was already special. Now, she just needed to capitalize on it.

On the outside, of course, she was trying to present herself to Dr. Ramsey as a polished, professional, put-together intern – but on the inside she was bubbling over with enthusiasm for this quick two-day trip.

Maggie truly felt like the luckiest girl in the world. This hard-working, smart-mouthed kid from upstate New York was selected by her mentor and current crush, Dr. Ethan Ramsey. He had been the whole reason she wanted to become a doctor in the first place. In her freshman AP Biology class when her teacher, Mrs. Hart, asked the class to read one of his journal articles for extra-credit, she Googled him immediately, wanting to digest as much information about him as possible.

Her friends would tease her about the fact that instead of teen heartthrob pictures posted on the inside of her locker, she had medical journal titles and Dr. Ramsey quotes. No one understood her high esteem and true admiration for him. She was confident when she applied to medical school that she would be competitive at Edenbrook, but she felt even more confident as of late. Now that she was number one and Dr. Ramsey’s clear favorite, everything was right in her world. The only thing that would make it better would be a searing gaze, a brush of his fingertips, hearing Dr. Ramsey call her by name and not “Valentine” or “Rookie…”

She was daydreaming again as she watched the snow-white clouds dance along the deep blue sky. The plane was about 30 minutes from landing. She was able to finally admit to herself that she had butterflies in her stomach. Could it be true that she had caught Dr. Ramsey looking at her differently lately? Had he actually started to smile a bit when he saw her for rounds every morning? Could it be that she was impressing him not only with her intellect but with her physical assets too? Is there any chance he could, maybe be, attracted to her?

Maggie’s imagination got carried away, thinking about this conference. She’d at least get to share a meal or two with him, maybe there would be a chance for them to get dressed up. Maggie planned ahead and brought a killer dress for just that kind of opportunity. She would make sure Dr. Ramsey got to see even more of her, um, “assets” and she’d get to see what makes him tick outside of the stuffy hospital. They’d dance alone on the beach; he’d declare his never-ending love for her and then at sunset they’d kiss…

“Aaahhh!” she let out a soft cry of surprise as the plane suddenly lurched up and down. Maggie reached for the armrest to clutch it tightly, forgetting that Dr. Ramsey was seated next to her, and his hand was already occupying the space between them.

In an instant her hand grasped his as her eyes grew wide, not because of the turbulence but because of the feel of his skin on hers. Something she had only dreamed about up until this very moment.

He had been reading and with his free hand removed his glasses, staring at her with a questioning look upon his face.

“Maggie.” He stated, matter-of-factly, but Maggie swore he said it breathlessly.

“Maggie.” He repeated.

“Yes, Dr. Ramsey?” She looked deep into his eyes now, hoping her longing and desire for him was evident in her eyes too.

“May I have my hand back, please?”

She immediately released her hold and smiled sheepishly. The Ethan Ramsey smirk appeared on his face briefly as she pulled her hand away.

“Of course.”

When he spoke to her, she hung on his every word, no matter what it was he was saying. However, Maggie had learned by now to keep her answers short and to the point.

“Thank you again for asking me to accompany you on this trip, Dr. Ramsey. It’s my first large conference and I know we’re going to have a wonderful time! I’m thankful, truly, I am.” She smiled, trying to make things less awkward.

“Yes, yes. So you’ve said. No less than a dozen times now. And as I have said before, don’t thank me, just do what you’re told. This is a work trip not a vacation. You’d do well to remember that fact, Dr. Valentine.”

The way he slowly emphasized Dr. Valentine sent shivers down Maggie’s spine. Did he know what he was doing to her? It was little lines like this, where the tone and pace of his voice changed, that made her think – no, believe – that he was indeed beginning to develop feelings for her.

Maggie nodded and returned her gaze to the window as he pulled his hand off the armrest. He cleared his throat as he settled back into the chair, recoiling a bit and trying to focus again on his reading material. Soon they’d be on land once more. If Maggie wanted any semblance of a decent relationship with Dr. Ramsey, she’d have to take advantage of opportunities to remind him that she wasn’t just THE number one intern. She was HIS number one intern. She decided for now to keep her mouth shut and continue to stare at the sky. It was safer that way.

When she had to tell Dr. Ramsey that they messed up on the reservations and only had one room for the two of them to share, she delivered the news matter-of-factly as if she was sharing the status of a broken arm or an appendicitis diagnosis. There was no flare, no pomp and circumstance, just the facts.

She was looking forward to it and would make sure Dr. Ramsey didn’t regret it, but she knew that she had to present her case clearly and without emotion in order to keep anything from changing too much.

“They only have reservations under your name. One room. We’ll have to share.”

Maggie was quite pleased with herself and the way she tackled what could have been a nightmare situation.

“Morons. Can no one do anything right?” He clenched his fist and his jaw while simultaneously rolling his eyes.

“I promise I don’t snore…” Maggie offered, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly become very tense.

“I just don’t like the way it looks.” He explained with a heavy sigh, “But, we’ll have to make it work.”

They took their luggage up to the room. As they entered, Maggie did her best to keep the amount of awe she felt, to a minimum as she took in the sight of the beautiful balcony and the scenic view of the ocean and beach below. She immediately went out to look over it all. It wasn’t until Dr. Ramsey called her back in that she realized there really was only one bed.

“We need to go speak with some vendors and make the rounds on the exhibition floor.” Dr. Ramsey explained, checking his watch.

“Sounds fun!” Maggie smiled as she clasped her hands together, clearly delighted.

“You are woefully misinformed. Nothing about this is fun, Rookie.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Dr. Ramsey.”

“Meaning?”

“Maybe you’ll actually have fun this time because you’re with me.”

Maggie tried to be subtle in her tone but gave him a wink and then smiled through one side of her mouth as she boldly approached him and looped her arm under his.

She gently pushed him alongside her to the door of their hotel room.

“I should have asked Harper to pay for an assistant instead of bringing you…don’t get any ideas.” He raised an eyebrow and down on her with mock disdain.

The energy between them had shifted now and as he looked at her with mischief in his eyes, she wanted to reach up right then, snake her arms around his neck and toss him on the bed. The expo vendors be damned! But she swallowed those thoughts away and promised him she wouldn’t.

“I’ll be on my best behavior…for now.”

Maggie offered, followed by a throaty chuckle that made Dr. Ramsey stop in his tracks.

He turned sharply to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror near the door of their room. Maggie studied him as he studied himself.

The hair. Those eyes. His lips. Everything about this man was sexy. It didn’t matter that he was 10 plus years older than her. His brain, his body, all of him was exactly what she wanted.

There were so many rumors about what Dr. Ramsey was really like. People said he was vain, arrogant, selfish, rude and cocky as hell. But she had yet to really see that side of him. Sure, he was particular and liked things done a certain way, but it was all for the good of the hospital, the patients and his team. He had a right to be that way, he’d earned it. He was after all, the Doctor Ethan Ramsey.

Those three words had rattled around in her brain for years. Doctor. Ethan. Ramsey. He was everything she hoped to be and also everything she wanted at the same time. He was standing right in front of her; she still felt at times as though she should pinch herself. It was truly a dream come true to be able to be in the presence of her mentor day after day.

“Like what you see Rookie? Let’s go.” He ushered her out the door and she nodded in agreement while biting her lip, wondering just where the rest of this day and this trip would lead them.

Dr. Ramsey and Maggie were able to spend some time both together and apart in the vendor area of the exhibit hall. The bright white lights pierced Maggie’s eyes and started to give her a headache. She went from booth to booth listening to people as they peddled their latest technology to either aid in surgeries, help make diagnoses or, some would claim, cure the rarest sicknesses. Maggie was surprised at the wide range of options being offered and just how far these companies and salespeople would go to try and get her, a lowly intern, to agree to use their product. She was actually glad that she didn’t have the power or authority to tie Edenbrook to some of these companies. It was overwhelming to say the least.

Maggie found Dr. Ramsey waiting for her at their predetermined location. They split up for a little bit to “make the rounds” and decided to meet back up after about 45 minutes out on the floor. She was desperately trying to keep a headache at bay but must have been showing signs of fatigue on her face.

“Are you all right?” Dr. Ramsey asked, appearing genuinely concerned.

She nodded slowly and smiled, wanting to appear strong and capable at all times, but especially in front of him.

“Oh yes, just a slight headache is all. Once I get some water and a couple ibuprofen, I’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get out of here. We need you feeling better before the reception this evening.”

“Reception?” Maggie questioned.

Before she could ask more questions, she was interrupted by a strikingly beautiful blonde who approached Dr. Ramsey from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for Maggie to realize she was watching something very intriguing unfold right before her eyes.

“Isabelle?” Dr. Ramsey’s eyes grew wide, turning around and enveloping the mystery woman in a hug.

A long hug.

A hug that lasted for what felt like five minutes.

Maggie felt a sudden pang of jealousy. Dr. Ramsey clearly knew this woman. She was beautiful and he seemed happy to see her.

“It’s been a long time.”

Isabelle, as he called her, responded in a more abrupt manner than Maggie expected. She noticed her body language and was immediately confused. Isabelle’s arms were crossed in front of her chest and she seemed less than pleased with Dr. Ramsey’s greeting.

“Yes, it has. Too long, Ethan, if you ask me.”

“How long has it been, exactly?”

Maggie assumed Dr. Ramsey was trying this hardest to be charming. He was smiling not only with his mouth but with his eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though his eyes were also travelling the length of Isabelle’s body as they exchanged words.

“I believe it was last year’s conference. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

Isabelle purred like a luxurious cat, still looking a bit stand-offish, but clearly remembering or feeling something for Maggie’s beloved mentor.

“Oh, I remember…things just get busy and life takes over once we’re off conference time, you know.”

“I had heard a lot about you before…that night…” Isabelle leaned in, closer to him, the last few words barely above a whisper.

Maggie was feeling more than awkward in this moment. She was torn between wanting to distract herself and also wanting to hear every bit of this exchange. This was juicy information and she needed to know who the heck this woman was and what history she had with Dr. Ramsey.

After letting out a loud and uncomfortable laugh, Ethan focused again on Isabelle and took her hand in his.

“I suppose I should be flattered. Usually at these things people either hate me or want something from me.”

“Well I was definitely one of the many women who wanted something from you. And there are plenty more who would want something from you too...”

At this point, Maggie noticed Isabelle’s eyes wandering to where she was standing. The two women made eye contact while Maggie shifted uncontrollably.

Dr. Ramsey came to her rescue, swooping in beside Maggie and introducing her.

“Ah yes, Dr. Isabelle Crane, this is Dr. Maggie Valentine. Edenbrook’s finest intern, ranked number one currently. She’s accompanied me to the symposium this year.”

“And I do mean finest…” He whispered quickly and breathlessly into Maggie’s ear as she reached forward to extend her hand to Isabelle.

She wanted to do a double take; her mind not completely sure she had heard Dr. Ramsey correctly. Instead she focused on the woman in front of her, hoping this exchange would end quickly.

Isabelle looked Maggie up and down then licked her lips and smiled deviously. Her eyes flicked from the doctor back to the intern. Maggie could almost see the wheels turning in this Isabelle woman’s head – she didn’t mind where she thought it was going but found it to be a little unprofessional.

“Well,” Isabelle cleared he throat, again her eyes playing ping pong between the two doctors. “Let me offer you this word of advice, number one intern...”

Maggie swallowed hard, her eyes locking with Isabelle’s. She was suddenly very afraid of what Isabelle was going to say next.

“Take great care to not let this one get away. It’s been my experience that once he’s out of sight, you’re out of mind.”

Isabelle was terse and made it beyond clear that she was unhappy with Dr. Ramsey’s behavior. Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted to know exactly what went on between the two of them, but she was astute enough to get the gist. She watched, keeping her composure, as Isabelle spun on her heel and quickly exited.

Wanting to break the ice and let her mentor know she wasn’t the least bit phased by anything, Maggie was the first to speak.

“I think I’ll go get that ibuprofen now.”

Dr. Ramsey was scratching the back of his neck, his head hung low. He looked up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah. Good idea.”

By the time Dr. Ramsey returned to the room, Maggie was in the shower. She had laid out her dress for the evening, hoping it was right for the occasion. The last thing she wanted was to be too dressed up or not dressed up enough. She was well aware of who she was with and she did not want to disappoint him in any way.

It wasn’t long before she heard Dr. Ramsey’s voice call out over the noise of the water. She knew he was back in the room when she heard the loud hotel door slam close. Thankfully there was no way he could enter the bathroom, as she had thought ahead and locked it. She already had her fill of awkward encounters for the day.

“Maggie?”

She swallowed hard, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. She could feel her neck and chest flush a little bit upon the realization that the only thing between her naked body and Dr. Ethan Ramsey was a flimsy hotel wall. And what’s more, he knew it too, and still chose to engage with her. Trying her best not to come across too hopeful or excited, she casually responded.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for all that back there…I know you may…uh…have some questions but she’s…”

Maggie cut him off, not wanting or needing an explanation.

“It’s fine, Dr. Ramsey. Really!”

She began to wash her hair, biting her lip and closing her eyes wondering where this conversation would go next.

“I know you might need the shower, so I’ll be fast. I’m just finishing up!” She lied.

“Oh, um, okay. No rush.”

Maggie noticed his voice had gotten lower and a little more raspy with that response. Could it be possible that he was thinking the same thing she was? There was no way he wasn’t thinking about her being in the shower as he spoke with her WHILE SHE WAS IN THE SHOWER.

“How’s your head?” He asked plainly.

Maggie had now put her head under the water to rinse. “Oh, it’s much better, thank you.”

“Is this – this dress here on the bed, is this what you’re wearing tonight?”

She cursed herself, unsure of his tone.

“I brought a lot of options. I wasn’t sure how fancy this was, and I can do something different if it’s not that kind of reception.”

She was finished with her shower now and had turned off the water, wrapping a towel around herself quickly. Her heart was beating fast indicating she was nervous, but her mind was fixed on him and she also felt daring. She wondered if it was possible to be both at the same time.

“It’s sufficient.” Dr. Ramsey responded in typical fashion.

With her hair dripping wet, she decided to go for it. He wasn’t stupid and neither was she. If anything, she could play it off like an honest mistake. But she wanted him. And she wanted him to know she wanted him. Coming out of the bathroom in just a towel would definitely send that message.

She opened the door and wasn’t prepared for him to be right there, but he was. Literally a few inches from her. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of his lips. She wished she had looked at his eyes instead, because she wanted to watch them and see where they travelled. Did he look her over like he had Isabelle?

Dr. Ramsey suddenly cleared his throat loudly.

“Rookie…” he almost whispered, finally locking his gaze onto hers.

“Only sufficient?” Maggie pouted.

She could feel a bead of water running from the end of her hair down her chest between her breasts and she held her composure perfectly as she watched her favorite teacher’s eyes follow the path of the drop.

“More than sufficient.”

And with that he stepped into the bathroom, leaving Maggie to finish getting ready.

The reception was everything Maggie dreamed it would be. She got to wear her fancy dress and drink champagne all with Dr. Ethan Ramsey on her arm. If she had the chance to go back to high-school-Maggie and tell herself that this would be her life, high-school-Maggie never in a million years would have believed her.

She was trying to take mental inventory of everything. Not just the amazing food and ambiance, but the way Dr. Ramsey looked in a tux, the way he had given his approval with a curt nod as she spun around for him in their hotel room, asking him if she “looked okay.” Maggie didn’t want this night to ever end.

The reception had been held by the pool at the resort and eventually, they had to shut it down. Maggie had convinced Dr. Ramsey to stay until the bitter end, even though she had her shoes off and could barely keep her eyes open, when the music stopped and people started picking up, she knew it was time to go.

The bartender was packing up and called out to the couple as they passed by.

“You all want this?” He held out a bottle of champagne.

“It’s already been paid for.”

“Of course it has.” Dr. Ramsey responded as Maggie reached out to grab the bottle.

“And of course we do!” She giggled a little, taking the bottle and wiggling her eyebrows.

Dr. Ramsey couldn’t even stifle a smile this time. Maggie thought that perhaps, despite himself, he had a good night with her and for a few moments, maybe he actually enjoyed himself.

Once the couple exited the elevators on the floor of their room, they walked down the long hallway to the very end where their suite was waiting. Occasionally Maggie’s hand would brush with Dr. Ramsey’s as he held the champagne bottle by his side. She could tell something had changed. There was a new electricity between them now. She hoped it wasn’t just the buzz from the multiple glasses of Prosecco she consumed.

“Maggie…” he trailed off just as they reached their room.

“I had a nice time tonight.”

She couldn’t find her voice as she was lost in his incredibly bright blue eyes. They were always piercing but, in this moment, they looked a more intense shade of blue than she had ever seen or noticed before. He stood there, watching her, and she waited for her own brain and mouth to connect in order to respond but nothing came out. She was only able to smile and nod.

The familiar heat spread again on her cheeks, her neck and chest. He opened the door slowly and went to gather more champagne flutes from the table outside on the balcony.

“It’s a beautiful evening and it’s not over yet. Let’s drink out here!” He called to her.

Maggie felt like she was floating. She took a deep breath, dropped her shoes on the floor, and followed him outside. The view was breathtaking, both him and the oceanside. He brought her a flute, held up his glass and looked at her as he spoke.

“A toast. To you. The marvelous Dr. Maggie Valentine. Cheers to surviving your first medical symposium and a day with me. You truly are the finest intern Edenbrook has ever…” he paused adding dramatic effect, “…ever had.”

“Dr. Ramsey – I don’t know what to say, I…” Maggie felt like crying she was so proud of herself and so glad he felt that way about her, but he cut her off.

“Ethan.”

She nodded, taking a drink.

“Please, call me Ethan.”

Ethan exhaled quickly, took a drink of champagne and then began to speak again. Maggie couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though his voice was a little shaky as he started.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been short and more cranky than normal as of late.” He moved to the railing, holding his glass with both hands and leaning over it.

Maggie almost interjected but decided against it. She wanted to see where this was going and what he would say next.

“This trip has been very difficult for me. And I don’t like to admit when I find things challenging or tough. I thought I could handle this. I thought it would be different. I’ve just never…”

“…felt like this before?” Maggie blurted it out without thinking. Her eyes grew wide, she covered her mouth with her free hand and spilled a little champagne in the process.

Ethan’s head turned slowly to face her. His smile turned into his trademark smirk and Maggie was done for.

“That’s it exactly, Maggie. I’ve tried. So hard…but this trip -- being together so much just us, one on one, and seeing you like this and being with you tonight, everything has just made it impossible.”

And there it was. Just like that he called her Maggie. She was now on a first name basis with Dr. – no – Ethan. Strangely, she was calm. Her pulse was normal, she was concentrating on him and him alone.

He quickly finished what remained in his glass and set it on the table, taking her free hand in his.

“I could say all of that, too.” She gulped.

Remembering she also had champagne, she took a sip and shivered as he ran his thumb lazily across her knuckles. The words continued to come out of her mouth before she could even think.

“I can’t even believe that right now, I’m me and you’re you and we’re standing here on this balcony looking at the ocean, all dressed up, together. Like actually together. And you’re holding my hand and I just…I’ve wanted this…with you…”

Ethan nodded and without saying a word, took her face in his hands and whispered, “And I want you.”

Maggie didn’t know what was happening anymore. She wasn’t sure if she moved in for the kiss or if he was going to do it anyway, but it didn’t matter. She was now officially in the arms of Dr. Ethan freaking Ramsey and she was going to enjoy it.

After a few moments the passion was intensifying between them both and Maggie took a quick step back, holding Ethan at arm’s length.

“What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

“Not a thing.” She smiled, holding his gaze and looking at him fondly.

“I want to remember this. There’s not one second of this moment I want to ever forget.”

Ethan smiled and then moved closer to her, nuzzling her neck just below her ear and moving her towards the bed, where the two of them tangled themselves together for hours, enjoying their evening and each other long into the night.

#blazerina babbles #blazerina x parkerattano team up #ethically questionable #eq au #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #tumblr will HATE me #open heart #open heart au

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into-crazy · 4 years

Text

More to the Madness Pt. 8

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: You and J throw some knives after your sex sesh. With the night off, you engage in a twistingly fun time together.

Warnings- Cursing, self-conscious thoughts, brief harassment(not from you or J), violence, murder

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

Redressed in your red attire and shoes, you glanced at your discarded underwear. Torn completely to shreds. Collecting the fabric pieces, you couldn't help but giggle at the fact that you will now have to go commando the rest of the night. Which is quite comfortable. The only downside being you'll have no breast support. Poor girls. You stuck the futile garments into your boots. You'll dispose them later.

No traces left behind.

As for your bodily fluids in the mattress, grimy as it sounds, you have no choice but to risk leaving them to dry up and hopefully be forgotten with the building. Not like you have a sponge and a bucket of bleach on hand. You excused yourself from the bedroom to freshen up in the bathroom. Luckily the water that still ran in the desolate complex was clean. Actually, you're just lucky there's running water to begin with.

Enclosed in the private enclosure, you quietly observe your post sex state. Facial features blotched out with various colors, much like a paint bomb went off in your face. Murky water fell into the sink when you rinsed your face clean. There was no hope for your tangled hair, you redid the buns best as you could. You weren't sure how long you stood staring at your reflection in silence.

Mere seconds, a few minutes..

Solidarity time to process what happened. Try and calm those bothersome questions running rampant through your head. It wasn't until you heard the hasty knock at the door.

"Hope you're not up to anything sketchy in there." Joker's voice came from the other side, an obvious hint of annoyance in his tone.

You blink back into reality. That's when panic set in. Shit, oh shit! Your makeup is in your car. What are you supposed to put on to cover your face? "N-no," you give a half-assed answer. There's a shuffling noise then the door's barged open.

"Then what's the hold u-" J's words were abruptly cut off at the sight of your face, "-p." Utterly uncovered to him, for the very first time. His eyes scan every single feature, as if he were burning you deep into his memory. He's fully gathered, with a fresh coat of greasepaint. Which no doubt he slathered over the last layer.

You had no choice but to stare back, wide eyed and waiting. Why is he looking at me like that? Is he repulsed, disappointed?

Shooting his glance to meet yours, he smiles before finally speaking. "What's with the ah, shocked expression doll?"

You struggle finding the right response, "I, uh, I don't have any makeup on me." Turning away to peer disapprovingly at your reflection.

J huffs, "you don't need it." He leans against the door frame, closely watching you through the mirror.

Shaking your head, you scoff, "believe me, I really do." It was in the way you said it that made him figure you weren't only referring to confining your identity. Purposely avoiding his gaze. The distaste in how you're looking at yourself, almost embarrassed of your appearance.

Sure. When you're wearing the disguise, you feel like the sexiest, most confident woman alive. Because everything which defines your face, is hidden. Take that off, remove the cover, and all the insecurities flood in. Pinpointing each and every detail to find a flaw in. No matter the times you were told differently. By that sweet old woman at the entrance of your complex who calls you a "beautiful young girl." Or when random citizens heartily complimented your smile. Though it was appreciated, you just couldn't see what they apparently seen.

Joker couldn't grasp the way you viewed yourself. Staring with strong resentment and disgust. And you didn't have to say what you thought- he saw it through you. It didn't make sense to him, he's the one with the scars. The permanent mangled marks embedded in his flesh- protruding from his face, visible even under layers of paint. Yet, not once have you looked at him the way you are right now towards your own reflection. He sees no reason for it, he doesn't like it, and he wants it to stop. Right now.

"Y/n," he sighs heavily, stepping into the small space. The use of your name getting you to turn and meet him as he props both hands on the counter either side of you. "And you should listen to me when I say You. Don't. Need. It." He sternly punctuates every word. "Anyone ah, thinks otherwise can deal with me."

Alas, you manage a half smile, "I think otherwise."

"Well bunny, I guess you'll have to ah, take it up with me. Besides, no one else is gonna have the luxury of seeing my dolls pretty face tonight. Just me." His tongue grazes his lips with the statement. Which earned a genuine laugh from you. No other words needed to be said on the matter, your eyes spoke gratitude for you.

Thanks J.

With that, he left you to finish up. To him, it was becoming awkward, since he's not one for emotional stuff. He thinks it's pointless, there's no room for any of that in his world. He hardly(HUGE emphasize on the hardly) ever addresses his own. Therefore he didn't know how to help you cope with yours. He tried to the best of his abilities, despite how uncomfortable it might have been. Nevertheless, you were grateful.

Joker took the liberty of plucking your harness off the floor. Intending to hand it to you when you came out the bathroom. But instead stopped to marvel at the few selected weapons secured on the piece. He was especially intrigued by the throwing knives. Pulling a blade from it's secure compartment, his gloved fingers traced the smooth finish on both the blade and handle. Crossing your arms, you watch as he examines the item.

"These are something," he notes tussling the blade in his hand, "little small, but they have weight. I adore a girl with ah, unique tastes.. how come I never see ya use 'em?"

Dropping your arms, you sneer, "one, I haven't gotten around to it." Reaching out, you pluck it from his grasp. Positioning it between your thumb and middle finger, index grazing the back. "And secondly," you turn in a stance to throw, flashing him a cheeky glance, "you never ask." With a quick motion, you whip your arm towards the wall releasing the knife. The force sending the blade to pierce into the drywall. A good ole classic no-spin.

He cocks a brow at you, "not bad doll. Not bad." You reach into the next compartment for the other. Since the blades are on the heavier side, you only carry two on you. Which is really all you ever need. Lose or break one, you have replacements. Flipping it over, you wave the handle out for J to attempt.

"Your turn."

"Me?" He staggers, palming his chest in a dramatic manner. You nod, further beckoning the blade, trading it for the harness he still held. He squints at the diminishing look on your face. As though you're eagerly waiting for him to throw a bad toss. "Y'know," he acknowledges, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were ah, underestimating my knife throwing abilities."

"What?" You scoff, a playful expression spreading your cheeks, "what makes you think that? I didn't even say anything." Oh, how true was he. Falsely deny it all you want, you're certain he read it just by the indication across your face. Yeah, he's good with his knives, but how is he when it comes to throwing these bad boys?

Joker let out a sharp sigh, "ya didn't have to say it. Doesn't take much to throw a knife." In a lightning fast action, he launches the segment at the same surface. The sight of the blade actually gouged into the wall struck wonder in you. "Although, we could both agree that some skill would be quite beneficial." There goes that cocky grin again.

"Alright, that was good," you credit him, advancing to collect the pieces. Yanking them from the spots they landed. "Though moving targets are trickier," you tease passing him a second throw, "shame we don't have any of those around." You launch another flawless toss, reveling in the satisfactory form of it sticking into the old apartment wall.

Joker let out a breathy chuckle, "who says we don't," he hurls the blade, it lands inches shy of yours, "how about we go out and fetch us a couple?" A mischievous gleam in his blackened eyes as his tongue grazed past his lips.

You shake your head nonchalantly at his offer, which he was seriously considering. Pity the poor saps who'd fall into that category. "Tempting as that sounds," you return, "wouldn't you prefer letting me in on the next move?" Referring to the upcoming step in his plan, walking to collect for another toss. This time, it required extra effort to extract the blades you nearly flung yourself backwards. Cringing as your still sore from your previous activity.

"Later," J speaks before your throw, which wounds a slightly louder thud. "It can wait, the next job isn't til tomorrow. So we uh, got the rest a the night off." He chucks the blade using an underhand throw, it sticks the mark. Now, he's just showing off. No biggie. You've got a couple tricks up your sleeve.

"Oh do we?" You question as you recollect, "what did you have in mind?" There was a printed copy of a Harvey Dent propaganda poster taped on the wall to the side. A picture of Dent's face with the virtuous "I BELIEVE IN HARVEY DENT" slogan big and bold across the bottom. You tore the flyer from it's place, instead placing it in use as a target.

"Well," J states, "before you came in, I was in the process of ah, relocating." He launches the blade, it lands centimeters from the edge of the paper. Letting out a dissatisfied grunt upon missing the mark.

You hum, "Yeah, I seen that. Anything that involves getting some fresh air, I'm game. Because it's really hot in here." Fanning your warmed cheeks and neck with your free hand.

"Then," he replies, "take your shot so we can go." Motioning his hand impatiently for you to throw a toss.

You flash him a coy smirk, positioning the knife where the blade is between your fingers. Handle pointed away from your frame. A quick flick, you hurl the blade. Sticking the target, the blade piercing the eye of the man on the paper. The strike surprising even you.

"Hm," J sneers, "lucky shot." The low growl a clear indication he's irritated you struck it before he did.

"Yeah," you humbly gloat, a bounce in your shoulders, "was aiming for the neck or chest area, but I'll settle for that one."

To Joker's dismay, his crew failed to leave him a vehicle. So you insisted on taking your car since it was parked only a block away. You left him to finish gathering what he's bringing to the new hideout.

You'll admit, you were a bit wary on letting Joker into your car. Partly because he's not exactly a neat person, nor careful to say the least. In addition, he's bound to draw attention in some sort of way. In the loud and chaotic manner that he can. And you're not in the mood to be chased by Gotham P.D. or the Batman tonight. To say your concern grew when you brought the car around, and he carelessly tossed three large duffel bags into the trunk. Two of which containing nothing but vast weapons, ammo, and explosives.

In the car, you wait. Fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. Scanning the area to make sure no one caught either of you or identifies your vehicle.

J was quick with it, slamming the trunk to walk over to the driver's side where you sat. Knocking twice on the window to get your attention. You roll the window down a crack, and he tries the handle. It's locked. He tries again, "Let me drive, I wanna drive."

Shaking your head, you huff, "nu-uh, not a chance. I'm driving."

His gaze narrows as he leans in to speak through the small opening, "I know where the location is." Spoken on the verge of threatening. Like if you don't open that door and comply, you'll pay for it.

"The point of me driving is so that we don't draw attention," you explain.

He waves a finger at you, "fair point."

Joker didn't give you an exact address. He gave directions as you drove, telling you which streets to take and where to turn. This frustrated you because he mistakenly led you down the wrong street at least three times.

"Take a right here.. wait, that was uh, you were actually supposed to turn left."

You sigh, "seriously J?"

Reclining back in his seat, he grins slyly, "had you just let me drive, we wouldn't ah, have this issue." The little shit. Surely this is his way of punishing you for not letting him drive.

Apparently nothing in your car was off limits to him. The components of your glove compartment and console- he messily rummaged through them out of curiosity. He found the black eye shadow and lipstick you use. "So this is what you use for your eyes." He laughs waving the cosmetic in your view, "Hey ah, quick question, you didn't get your inspiration from me did ya?" He motions at the black paint around his eyes.

"No, I did not," you acknowledge, "before we even met I considered wearing an eye mask, but I decided makeup's more fitting. It actually allows me to see."

The street you were currently traveling was eerily quiet. Passing through the sketchier parts of the city, it's to be expected at this late hour. Only sellers and prostitutes occupying the corners. The few that there are anyways, they're in for a long night.

Coming up on a red light, your vehicle slows to a halt. J turns to glance at you, "ya could've ran that."

"Would've, could've, should've," you roll your eyes, "but I didn't."

He nudges your arm, "geez doll, lighten up. I know we're uh, layin' low and all. But have a little fun." Casually listing out, "run a red light, go thirty over the speed limit, hit a pedestrian, something."

See, THIS is why you're behind the wheel.

You were about to respond when a vehicle pulls up by your side. The light is still red, therefore it wasn't suspicious. Joker leaned back, obscuring behind the barrier of your seat to examine the car. You also turn to take a look. Three guys inside- windows rolled down, speakers blasting a tune. Appears they're out for a cruise, possibly up to no good.

Wandering eyes peek into your car and land right on you. You heard their voices as they talk obnoxiously amongst each other, a bottle in each their hands. They're drinking.. great.

"There's a chick in there!"

"Is there?"

"Yeah, yeah, there is!"

Your fingers grip the steering wheel in dread with what's coming next. Though nervous, you keep your cool, you've dealt with it plenty of times before. Just face forward and ignore them, they'll lose interest.

"Hey mami, how's it going?" A man calls. Another whistles at you like one would a dog, "look over here baby!"

You continue to stare forward, you're not concerned about them. The only thing worrying you to the max is having it happen with J sitting beside you. His jaw clenches and his hands ball into tight fists. So hard you could hear the pained squelching from the leather of his gloves. Growing angrier by the second, he reaches into his trench, pulling out his glock.

He goes for the door handle to get out. But your quick hand on his thigh stops him. As he looked back at you, you caught his blistering fury, ready to snap. You whisper, "no J- please- it'll draw attention."

He contemplated between staying in and getting out to handle the situation. His hand on the verge of opening the door as the men continue on catcalling. Words slurred from the alcohol in their systems.

This is the longest red light ever. Turn green dammit! You thought. Since they wouldn't get the hint, you retort to flipping them off. A clearer answer- I'm not interested, leave me alone. That only seemed to spur them on even more.

The man sitting shotgun shouts, "aye, come on baby. Don't be like that." The one in the back blurts, "Yeah, don't be a stuck up bitch! The three of us could give you a good night fuck." He then launches a beer bottle at the floor by your door, the glass shattering, a few shards scraping your car. They retort to laughing amid their own stupidity, going completely over the edge. You were nice enough to let it slide once, had they just stopped. However they chose not to, crossing the line into harassment.

Putting the car in park, you look at J. He's not going to let that slide, and neither are you. Pulling your gun from your thigh, you flash him a smile, "okay, I'm ready for that fun now." In return he grins back, wide and Cheshire-like, knowing exactly what you meant. Forget being subtle, you're gonna correct these disrespectful assholes- together. With a flick, the windows on your side of the car roll down.

Whistling and cheering, the men take it that you're giving in. You smirk darkly at them, cocking your head to the side. How wrong they were. You lean back in your seat, revealing J's presence next to you. If you could pinpoint the exact moment their souls left their bodies, you'd get it spot on. Eyes widening in fear as they see the Joker, you both holding the same spine-chilling expression. Confusion and panic wash over them.

"Ah shit! Hey man, that's the Joker!"

"The fuck is he doing with her!?"

Before they had time to react, you push your seat far back to aim your gun out the back window. J pointed his out the front above you. Savoring the sheer regret in their faces. A couple clicks are heard in the muted air, then you light up the car. The deafening gunshots ringing the street, echoing down the block.

When their movements stopped, you threw your shift back in drive. Flooring it the hell out of there before anybody could make you. Not to mention, the light was still red. The twisted mix of your shared laughter the last thing heard on the street as you drive away.

"Pull over," J instructs once you're a far enough distance from the scene. You comply, swiftly parking by the curb. Heated blood still rushing through your bodies, he grabs your face and kisses you greedily. You grab his wrists, kissing him back. It wasn't until you both needed air when you pulled way, staying close in your embrace.

The light from the lamp posts glows into the dimly lit space. Granting him the bewitching sight of his red spread across your lips panting against his own. It looks good on you. In fact, it'd probably please him if you'd sport his paint remains on your gorgeous lips. Perhaps maybe a lip shade identical to his, because red suits you perfectly. Especially his. He hums as the thought crosses his mind.

"You're mine." He breathes heavily on your lips, thumb swiping your flushed cheek. You trace his wrists in unspoken agreement. "Now scooch over hm, it's ah, my turn to drive." This time you didn't protest. When he got out and walked to the driver's side, you went over the middle counsel to plop onto the passenger seat.

It didn't take long to reach the destination. Within minutes, you arrived. To an enormous warehouse on the outskirts of the city. There are plenty warehouses that harbor the area. Many which currently remain in use, and some that are abandoned. The depot Joker, along with his crew, moved into was definitely one of the relinquished buildings. At least until now.

He parked a good distance from the entrance to the warehouse. Neither exiting the car just yet. "Did you ah," J starts, "did ya wanna come inside? I'll give ya a grand tour."

You take a moment to contemplate. "No, it's late. I better head home. Rest and come back for tomorrow's job- I mean if that's okay with you."

"Geez doll," he scoffs, "it's not like I gotta leash on ya- though we could uh, arrange that for another time if you're into it." His tongue clicking at the suggestive statement. "No- no, I won't hold ya. Ya wanna go home, go. Get some shut eye and be here early."

Joker grabs his bags from your truck while you take your place back in the drivers seat. Arms propped on the frame, you watch him drag the duffels onto the sidewalk near you. Chin lazily resting atop your arms.

"Now I better not find any trackers in my car." You jokingly mock.

"I look like the Bat to ya?" He throws back sarcastically, "don't push your luck sweetheart, you just keep givin' me great ideas."

"Some of which I might consider letting you take me up on." You can do this all night, the playful banter. Constant back and forth with snarky remarks. It's a strong, lively connection thriving between you two that somehow works. You like to poke him, he likes to poke back- harder. And vice versa. It never gets old. Alas, your body is exhausted and in need of sleep. It's quite noticeable, he can read the exhaustion on you. You smile warmly him, "night J."

Spoken so soft and calm, you're unsure whether he heard it or not. He did. Two light taps from his hand on the car's door proved to be. Thus ended your time together, and he stood there to watch your tail lights fade into the darkness before he finally deemed necessary to go about his own way inside the warehouse.

Man, what a night.

End of part 8. I hope this part wasn't too boring. I needed a good break from the smut- having written AND read😅 Anyways there's more to come!

#More to the Madness #joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker x female reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #the dark knight #fanfic

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cstormsinukagblog · 4 years

Text

Fast Food Thief

A/N I do not own Inuyasha or any characters. This is not an original idea. I read a post a while back and the idea popped into my head to do it Inukag style. The idea is here. This is a modern day Inukag au. I hope you enjoy. I needed a pick-me-up. Have a good Saturday!

Tags for people who have requested it: @akitokihojo @alannada @mamabearcat @Cammysanstuff @eternalnight8806-3 @feudalpriestess98 @hinezumi @Juliatheanimelover7 @keichanz @littlemissinukag @noviceotakus-blog @petri808 @shinidamachu @Stuckinthewrongworld @witchygirl99 @xfangheartx

This day was going to suck. Her coffee pot was broken, so she was going to have to stop somewhere. She goes to get dressed to go to work, and apparently the dry cleaners failed to get the ink stain out of her favorite blouse. She stomps her feet like a young child throwing a tantrum. But it did relieve some of the irritation. She selects another outfit, gets dressed in a hurry, then rushes out the door. She parks on the street and heads into the cafe on the way and realizes too late the line was too long. She tries to wait it out, but is definitely going to be late. She gives up after the line seems to have barely moved after ten minutes. She is almost there and actually it doesn’t seem like she is going to be late until she hears sirens. She pulls over diligently and sees fire trucks zoom past her and stop a little ways ahead of her. Traffic is not at a standstill. She was only 18 minutes late, and it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed. She sunk into her desk just in time for her boss to yell her name. She jumps up, and he is glaring at her.

“Yes, Mr. Naraku?” Her voice is still slightly out of breath, which is exacerbated by her nerves.

His glare almost seems to get worse, “in my office, please.”

Her head sinks as she nods in response, then follows him to his office. He motions for her to sit in the chair across from his desk and she barely sits on the edge of the seat, terrified of what he wants.

“You need to stop making it such a habit to waltz in late, Miss Higurashi. Why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t fire you?”

Her eyes went wide and she could feel tears welling, which she struggles to blink back. Her voice comes out in a rush, “Mr. Naraku, this is only the second time I’ve been late in a year. I am so sorry, but I am always on time. It’s just been a very bad morning. There was a fire in an apartment building and traffic wasn’t moving.”

Her head sinks to her chest, and she misses the evil smile spread across his face. Her heart is pounding and she can’t breathe.

His voice comes out with a greasy quality, “Very well. Do not be late again. If you do, we will have to let you go. You already have 2 write-ups. I should give you your third today. But I’m feeling generous. Perhaps after work you can come talk to me about getting those write-ups removed. I’m sure we can work something out.”

She can feel his eyes travel up and down her body and she represses a shiver. “If I have time after work, I will come back, Mr. Naraku.” She is hoping so hard that he won’t know she’s lying. She knows exactly what he wants, and she would rather lose her job than do what she’s sure he’s insinuating.

She works through her first break, only stopping to run to the restroom. She had to avoid any chance to be alone with him. She didn’t want to lose this job, but she would have to start job hunting tonight. Her lunch couldn’t come soon enough. Her stomach was grumbling. She went to the breakroom to grab her lunch from the fridge to find it gone. This day seriously couldn’t get any worse.

She leaves to try to run to the fast-food restaurant down the street, but she’s only halfway there and she knows she’s never gonna have time. She stops into a little corner store and grabs a pop and a bag of chips and runs back, barely making it in time. Before she sits, she sees Mr. Naraku glance at his watch and give her a look as if to say, “cutting it close.”

She slumps at her desk and sets her head down for a moment. This day is terrible. After a few seconds she calms her breathing and sits back up getting back to work. She opens her bag of chips and starts snacking between typing. The rest of the day seems to be uneventful, and she is so relieved by that. She sees Mr. Naraku staring at her as she finishes closing up things for the day. Once she shuts down her computer and cleans up her station, she clocks out, and pretends to get a phone call.

As she walks by his office, she tries to look guilty and apologize, “I’m sorry, Mr. Naraku. It’s my mom. She needs me to come help her. I’ll be on time tomorrow, I promise.”

He sneers in irritation, “If not you might as well not come in at all Miss Higurashi.”

She nods and looks down as she walks out of the office doors, then she practically sprints to her car. Her stomach is cramping from not having any real food all day. She stops in at the drive thru for the WacDonald’s on the way home. She tried to order her usual, but apparently there was an issue and they had a recall on their chicken patties. As she is sitting there debating on what to order the car behind her honks.

This is definitely the last straw. She glances back in the rearview window and she can see white hair and dog ears on a very handsome face, sitting in a convertible.

Fuck him. She places her order and drives forward to wait her turn to get to the pay window. She debates for a minute, then remembers a post on something similar. She’s usually not so mean, but this has been enough. When she gets to the window, she tells the cashier she wants to pay for the order for the car behind her, but she needs a receipt for both orders. The young kid smiles and mutters something like, “that’s nice of you.” Which she tries not to laugh at. What she is planning is not nice at all.

As she pulls up to the food window, she tells the person that she has 2 orders and shows both receipts. She gets her order and his. Pulls up a bit, flips him off and drives away. Fuck that guy!

~~~~~~~

Inuyasha is in a hurry. As usual. His day hasn’t been bad, but he needs a fucking vacation. Not that he couldn’t take one. Hell, he could take a 3 month hiatus and still be fine. But he needed to work. If he didn’t work, he thought too much. So he worked about 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. He liked to be kept busy. He pulled into the WacDonald’s and was irritated to see so many cars in the drive thru. He could go in, it would probably be faster, but fuck that. He didn’t want to get out of his car. So he pulled in behind this purple sedan. He needed to get home. He had shit to do.

After a couple minutes, the cars hadn’t moved nearly as fast as they needed to. When the purple sedan finally got to the mic to order, the dumb bitch took forever. He could feel a growl rumbling in his chest and he honked his horn at her. He could see her glare at him in her rearview mirror, but at least it made her put in her stupid order. He pulled up and put in his order, quick and easy.

He pulled back up behind her at the pay window and saw her and the cashier send a look back at him. Was she really telling on him? What is this elementary school? He let out a “keh” and waited to pull up to pay. When he pulled up to the pay window, he had cash ready, but the cashier looked at him and seemed all lovey dovey.

“The lady in front of you paid for your food.”

His hand dropped. Wow, he was an asshole. He honked at her because she wasn’t ordering fast enough for him, and she decided to be nice in retaliation. Damn, what a classy lady. Here he was calling her a bitch in his mind, and she was definitely nicer than he had expected.

He saw her get two bags of food. No wonder it had taken her so long, she was ordering for a group. He really was an asshole. He pulls up to the window and says quite calmly what his order was, and the cashier looks confused.

“The lady in the purple sedan just paid for it for me.”

The cashier’s mouth drops, “Umm… She paid for 2 orders and showed me the receipt. She took both orders.”

Inuyasha’s mouth drops open. She wasn’t classy, but damn was she fucking brilliant. He pulled out and jumped on the road, following the purple sedan. She drove to a local park and went and sat under a pavilion. He held back a bit so she wouldn’t know he had followed her.

As soon as she slumps down on a bench, he jumps out of his car and stomps over to her.

“Hey, Bitch! You fucking stole my food!”

She looks up, absolutely shocked, and slightly terrified.

“That was my fucking order at the WacDonald’s. Now give me my fucking food!”

She seems to recoup quickly and snaps back at him, “Excuse me, but you didn’t pay for anything, that is your problem. I paid for food and I get to have the food. Your loss, loser.”

He growls low at the word loser and fights to keep his anger in check. “Bitch, that isn’t fucking fair. You paid before I got there. But I ordered the fucking food and you will give it to me.”

She just glares at him, “You should have gotten back in line at the drive thru. It’s not my problem. Sometimes mistakes are made. I placed an order, paid for food. And got all the food I paid for. Maybe if you weren’t such a jerk, you wouldn't have these problems. But no, you have no patience, like the 2 minutes I spent putting my order in slowed you down so damn much. How much time have you wasted following me all the way to the park and now yelling at me. You could have got back in line, ordered your food and been on your way. So you weren’t in a hurry, you were just being rude. You deserve it. Besides, you didn’t pay for it so I didn’t steal it. I bought it.”

She stands up and walks back to her car carrying both bags of food, “Now I’m going home. If you follow me there, I’ll be forced to call the police.”

He growls at her, then stops mid growl and bursts out laughing. Everything she had said was completely true. He could have been home sitting on his soft comfy couch, and eating trash food, but here he was yelling at a stranger. For food he hadn’t even paid for.

She seems more afraid of his laughter than his growling. “You’re right. I was an asshole. But I have to bow down to the bigger asshole. You, wench, are a much bigger asshole than I am. I cannot compete. Now, if I pay you for my food, will you give me the damn bag?”

She seems to contemplate it for a minute, then nods. “On one condition. You cannot ever honk at someone in a drive thru again. I need to know you at least learned your lesson.”

He smirks at her and he feels his fang peek out. “Yeah, alright. I won’t honk in drive thrus anymore. What an important lesson. I am so glad you taught me right from wrong.”

He pulls out the money he had for his order and she trades him for the bag. After he turns to walk back to his car, he can detect a change in her scent. He turns back to see her entire body deflate as she sinks back onto the bench. Then the scent of tears hits him. Fuck he wasn’t that much of an asshole was he?

He rushes back, “Hey. What the hell, wench?”

She sucks in a breath and tries to compose herself as he stops next to her. She clears her throat and mumbles a “What?” in response, and for some reason her tears are killing him.

“Was I that much of an asshole? What did I do to make ya cry?”

She shakes her head in response. “It wasn’t you. Just go. Just take your stupid food and go.”

He drops the bag on the ground at her feet and sits down next to her. “Yeah, I don’t think so. What happened to the spunky woman who just let me have it? I’ve never been so intimidated by a human before. Now you’re gonna let my opinion of ya fade so quickly?”

She growls pretty impressively for a human, “What the fuck should I care about your opinion of me? I don’t even know you, you jerk!”

He doesn’t know why, but he instinctively wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into him. He hears her gasp against him. Fuck, what was wrong with him? He is practically molesting some woman he doesn’t even know! Then her head turns into his chest and her arms come up around his back. He can feel her tears through his shirt, and his heart is breaking slightly. This strong, smart, and wonderful woman is in his arms sobbing, and grabbing his shirt like her life depended on it. He holds her until her sobbing stops. He doesn’t say anything about it, and just sits holding her until she pulls away.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you. That was definitely terrible of me. Please forgive me.”

He cuts her off, by gently placing his hand against her cheek being careful of his claws, “Are ya better now?”

She nods slowly and gives him a watery smile. “Yes, thank you. For everything.”

He nods back and his smirk returns, “Anytime. M’name’s Inuyasha. Maybe we can do this again sometime. Maybe even without all the yelling, and rude names.”

She snickers in response then nods again, “My name is Kagome.”

He shakes his head at her, “Nah, I like Wench better.”

Her smile disappears, “You are such a jerk! Why are you still here?”

He feels his smirk spread, “I can’t resist a Wench in Distress.”

She rolls her eyes, and the smile comes back. “You know what, I think I’ve dated too many jerks. I think I will have to say no to getting together another time.”

“Keh, dating. Aren’t we presumptuous?” Her mouth drops open, and she resembles the cutest carp he’d ever seen. “I mean we barely know each other and you already want to date me. I know I’m a catch, but damn wench. Slow down.”

“My name is Kagome. Ka-Go-Me! Get it right.” She stands up and stomps over to her car and climbs in, slamming the door. He glances down and sees her bag of food and proceeds to grab it, dangling it in front of himself so she can easily see it and he can hear her frustrated scream from inside of her car. He can’t stop himself from opening the bag and stealing one of her fries. Now her frustrated scream has become an angry growl. He pulls out a pen and writes something on the bag. He walks over to her car and puts the bag on the hood of her car. Climbs in his car and speeds off. She’ll call. He absolutely knows it.

She gets out of her car and grabs her bag. His writing is a lot neater than she expected.

Ok Ka-Go-Me Call me Inuyasha and his number.

She was definitely going to have to call him...

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfic #Kagome Higurashi #inukag #inukag fanfiction #inukag au #cstorms writing #oneshot #Fast-food thief

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dandywolves · 4 years

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So, uh, I had a bunch of thoughts and it turned into 1500 words of whatever this is

Building off my previous post about Jaskier getting captured by Nilfgaard or whatever and Geralt being confronted by a Doppler wearing his face (and please be mindful that literally all I know about the Witcher is from Netflix and stuff posted in the Geraskier tag here on Tumblr lol)

-Yennefer was also, at some point, captured by Nilfgaard. Probably during that last big climactic battle after she sort of self-destructed. She eventually manages to free herself, being all magical and badass, and she finds Jaskier in his cell. He’s beaten, bloodied, and generally in really rough shape. Despite their differences, she takes pity on him – even he doesn’t deserve to be subject to Nilfgaard’s cruelty – and she frees him, too.

-When Geralt finally tracks Jaskier down to wherever he was being held, the place is half-destroyed and Jaskier is gone. He’s left wondering what happened to his bard, unsure if he survived whatever was unleashed on the place.

-Thus starts the wild adventures of Yennefer and Jaskier travelling together. They don’t really plan to become travel companions, it just sort of happens – they spend some time in the same town together for a while, recuperating from their imprisonment, and they sort of bond. Jaskier probably performs Her Sweet Kiss in a tavern somewhere while trying to scrounge together some coin, and Yennefer is like, “First of all, I know that song is about me and Geralt. Second of all, I know that song is about YOU and Geralt.”

-They bond over their heartbreak and form a Fuck You, Geralt club.

-Months or years down the line, Geralt is wandering through a town with Ciri, looking for easy monsters to kill to train her and pick up coin. He hears a familiar voice – Jaskier singing in a nearby tavern. He’s shocked and excited and filled with trepidation – the last time he saw Jaskier, after all, it was a Doppler – but he enters the tavern with Ciri in tow.

-Ciri recognizes Jaskier as Julian, the charming bard who used to perform regularly in Cintra when she was a little girl. Her mother adored him and grandmother was deeply suspicious of him. When her parents died, he stopped visiting. But she knows that face and she knows that voice – he hasn’t changed a bit.

-Jaskier was performing some sort of solemn and bitter song about the White Wolf. Not hateful or damning – he can’t bear to actually sully Geralt’s reputation, given that he a) is in love with the bastard, and b) worked so hard to make a good name for him. But the song isn’t celebratory or happy or adoring. I’m thinking maybe even just the literal Song of The White Wolf from the OST.

-He catches Geralt’s eye shortly after Geralt enters, faltering on a line. Which NEVER happens. When Jaskier stops singing altogether, Geralt gestures for him to continue. “Don’t stop on my account. I’ve not heard this particular song.”

-Jaskier finishes his song. Geralt stands in the doorway like a doofus, listening to him sing, stung by the words, but strangely overwhelmed with relief and fondness to see his bard and alive and well and still doing what he loves.

-When Jaskier finishes the song, he tells his enraptured audience that he will unfortunately have to cut his evening short, grabs his things, and B-lines for a backdoor. Geralt moves to follow, but Yennefer basically materializes from the shadows to block his path. He’s confused and shocked to discover that they’re travelling together, Yennefer tells him to leave well enough alone, and she soon follows after Jaskier with Geralt watching in bewilderment

-Sometime later, Jaskier is again captured – but not by Nilfgaard.

-Yennefer seeks out Geralt. Explains what happened. Jaskier has been brought back to court to serve as Viscount. Geralt is ashamed that he did not, exactly, realize Jaskier was titled, to which Yennefer calls him an ass and points out that she heard Jaskier ramble about it on numerous occasions long before they even went on the fateful dragon hunt together. Geralt had always tuned him out, because he was an asshole and a shitty friend

-They head to Lettenhove. Jaskier is surprised to see Geralt, but quickly masks it with anger. Tells Geralt to fuck off and let him live his life. There’s some back and forth – Ciri and Yennefer try to talk to him, too, but to limited success, and it’s determined that Geralt has the best chance of getting a straight answer from him (because Jaskier is in love with him, though he doesn’t know that, and also because he has known Jaskier the longest and knows how to connect with him, no matter how shitty he actually is at doing so)

-He’s not actually captured or imprisoned or being held for ransom or anything of that sort. He’s literally just gone back to Lettenhove to properly serve as Viscount. But that doesn’t make any sense, because Jaskier clearly never had any interest in doing so, considering he left behind the comfort of nobility to live the rough life of a travelling bard. And he did this for DECADES. Clearly, something happened that forced him to return.

-Geralt finally gets an explanation from him: Nilfgaard (or maybe some other force, idk) has been moving in on Lettenhove. Their movement has been slow and insidious, enough to be a clear danger, but not enough that Lettenhove can seek aid/support from any of its neighbours. They don’t stand a chance against this threat alone, and they don’t want to be sitting on the defensive waiting for the inevitable.

-But if this enemy took an obvious, aggressive action against Lettenhove or its nobility, they could vie for protection and support from their neighbours. Enter Jaskier – a noble who has essentially never served his station, which means he isn’t needed and he won’t be missed. They want to stage an assassination against him and frame their enemy for it.

-Geralt immediately tells Jaskier he can’t do this. Jaskier, scowling at him, sneers, “You don’t control me, Geralt. I decide my own fate.”

-(I also visualize this scene happening while Jaskier is nursing a goblet of wine. He follows up this statement by downing and then slamming the goblet onto a nearby table. The wine has stained his lips red and splattered onto his pale hand, and all Geralt can think of is blood.)

-Geralt tries to follow Jaskier as he walks away, to reason with him, drag him away, maybe even beg him, but Jaskier doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he snaps his fingers and guards converge on Geralt to block his path. Geralt is left to watch Jaskier disappear through a door, slamming it shut behind him.

-Geralt tells Yennefer and Ciri. They are despondent and also like, “Fuck that, nope, we won’t let him be assassinated.”

-The hit is slated to happen at a welcome home banquet the following night. The trio show up unannounced and uninvited to the banquet, and as soon as Jaskier sees them he tells the guards to see to it that they’re removed. As guards crowd around them and start forcing them out of the hall, Geralt shouts, “Jaskier, you can’t do this!” And Jaskier just looks him dead in the eye and says, “Just let me live my life, Geralt. However I choose to.”

-Obviously, Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri aren’t about to just LEAVE, but they also aren’t going to fight and cause a huge scene. It’s not just Lettenhove present at this banquet.

-They find windows with a good vantage point, watching for any sign of someone posing as the enemy.

-Later on in the night, Jaskier steps up to perform. He briefly explains the years he spent adventuring and singing, clutching his precious elven lute with a mix of reverence and fear. He says he’s leaving behind that life, but wants to sing one last time, for old time’s sake. Of course he sings, “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher.”

-During that building and repetitious final chorus, it happens. A Doppler had been hired to pose as one of the party guests, blending perfectly, and it emerges from the shadows in the guise of an enemy assassin, firing a crossbow bolt straight into Jaskier’s throat.

-The bard falls to his knees, clutching at his throat with one hand, gasping as blood pours over his hands, and Geralt is outside just SCREAMING because it happened too suddenly for Yennefer to try to stop it with her magic.

-But Jaskier is still clutching his lute with the other hand, and the beautiful filigree and detailing starts to glow. It’s filled with elven magic, unbeknownst to him – the same magic that has kept him so young, the same magic that might have protected him from the Djinn had he carried his lute with him that day.

-In a panic, he tears the bolt free from his neck, the hole spurting and gushing blood – and then it stops. The blood flow slows. And the hole in his throat slowly seals. The glow fades from the lute, all the beautiful detailing gone, and Jaskier is left covered in his own blood but miraculously alive.

-There is a shocked pause before the entire banquet explodes into chaos. People cheering for Jaskier’s survival – outcry at the assassination attempt – demands to find the assassin that a select few people know has already shifted back into the guise of a bewildered party guest by this point, the perfect master of disguise.

-And Geralt bursts in through the fucking window, shoving people out of the way as he rushes toward Jaskier, who he grabs and pulls into the fiercest bear hug. In a low, rough voice, he rasps, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

-And Jaskier can’t even pretend to be angry anymore, because he genuinely thought he was about to die and he DIDN’T, so he hugs Geralt back and just sobs against his shoulder.

#geraskier #The Witcher

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dickwheelie · 4 years

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Day 29: Secret Admirer

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

Boy oh boy. I cannot believe I was able to post a fic for this prompt list, on time, every day for an entire month. For me, that’s huge. I tend to be a slow writer and I rarely finish the stuff I start. Not every fic was amazing, or very long, but by gosh, I sure did finish them, and I had so much fun doing it! Huge thanks to @mielpetite for making this list and reblogging all the entries throughout the month, they’ve been amazing. Thank you also to all the lovely folks who commented/reblogged/liked my fics, you gave me the motivation to sit down every day and write something, even when I wasn’t feeling it. Much love to all y’all.

If you go to the #ineffablevalentines tag on tumblr, you’ll see the other entries, and if you go here on my blog you’ll see all of mine. Okay, enough chat, please enjoy my final fic of the month, wherein to no one’s surprise, there is more letter writing.

__________

To the proprietor of A.Z. Fell & Co Booksellers, Downtown Soho, in case there’s another one knocking about somewhere—

I saw you in the shop the other day and couldn’t help but stare. You were gently ushering someone out the door without a single book in their hands, and I couldn’t help but find your tenacity admirable. I myself was careful not to remove any item from the store when I left, but I’m afraid I may have left one behind. I was wondering if you might have seen it, so I can come back to fetch it. You see, it’s terribly important to me. It’s my heart.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

Aziraphale chuckled through an unseemly blush as he refolded the letter and placed it on the top of the stack that had been slowly growing on his desk for the past month. Every day of that cold, miserable February, a letter had arrived at his doorstep, with no return address and no name of sender. They were—and there was no beating around the bush about it, really—love letters, very obviously meant for him, from an anonymous so-called secret admirer.

At first, Aziraphale had been rather confused, but had kept the letters anyway, intending to show them to Crowley and have a good laugh. However, as each day passed and each new letter arrived, Aziraphale found himself quite charmed by this secretive writer. Clearly, they were a regular customer of some kind to know Aziraphale so well. They made all the right jokes, said all the right things, made references to all the right literary figures; either they had discerned Aziraphale’s tastes with perfect accuracy, or they had much in common with him.

Some of the letters were extremely lengthy; others, like today’s, were only a short paragraph or two, recounting the admirer’s feelings for him. Some were maudlin and prose-laden; some were humorous and sweet; others still were almost salacious in tone, never saying anything too outlandish but bordering on the cusp of it, hinting at things and implying things that made Aziraphale blush absolutely scarlet. All of them were quite flattering, and left Aziraphale’s mood brighter for the rest of the day.

Aziraphale had been charmed by humans before, and even been romantically pursued by some of them, but never before had one so captivated him with the written word. (This, of course, did not include works of literature. That was a very different kind of captivation that involved less blushing.) He’d never had a secret admirer before. It was all very thrilling and romantic.

Not being able to write back was a bit frustrating, but Aziraphale supposed it was for the best. Though he was quite flattered, and had reread some of the letters more times than he’d like to admit, at the end of the day, his admirer was only a human who only knew him as a bookseller.

Besides, Aziraphale was already taken. Speaking of which, he ought to get himself ready to meet Crowley for dinner; their reservation was at eight.

I ought to tell him about the letters, he thought as he went about selecting a bowtie. Crowley ought to know, after all, that he had some competition. Aziraphale laughed aloud at the thought. After dinner, he decided, he’d bring Crowley back to the shop and show him the pile of letters.

And so he did. Aziraphale poured them both a glass of wine and brought Crowley into his study, presenting the pile of papers as though it were an ice sculpture.

“Terribly sorry I didn’t mention these to you earlier,” said Aziraphale cheerily. “I suppose I didn’t want you getting jealous that I had a secret admirer.”

“Jealous? Me?” said Crowley wryly. “Never.”

“Well?” said Aziraphale, when Crowley didn’t make a move towards the desk. “Go ahead, read some of them. You have my full permission.”

“Hmm. I dunno,” said Crowley, making himself comfortable on one of the armchairs on the opposite side of the room. “Seems like your private affair, to me.”

“Nonsense! Here, I’ll read one to you.” Aziraphale selected one at random from the middle of the pile, unfolded it and cleared his throat. “Oh, this is rather a good one.

“My dear bookseller—

“I’ve read every Wilde I can get my hands on, but apparently even your shop doesn’t hold the book which may contain a description vivid enough to capture you. In my experience, none do; not Whitman, not Keats, not Dickenson. The most complimentary of love poems do not contain a subject more appealing to me than you are. I’m afraid there may not be words in the English language or any other to describe your radiance. Compared to all the other authors and poets, who am I to attempt such a feat?

“I must try anyway. You, of all the beings of the Earth and Heaven above and Hell below, deserve to know your own wonder. Compared to you, my perspective is lowly, to be sure. Still, was it not Wilde who once said that we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars?

“Endlessly Yours,

“Your Secret Admirer.”

Aziraphale had to pause to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. That one had been particularly moving when he’d first read it. “Now, wasn’t that just lovely?” he said after a moment. “They know my tastes so well.”

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley to see his reaction, but to his surprise, Crowley was smiling. A small, rather sweet smile, not at all jealous or mischievous. “Yeah,” Crowley said, “it was alright.” He put out his hand. “Can I have a look?”

Aziraphale handed him the letter and Crowley perused it, his expression much more pensive than Azirapahle would have expected. After a minute or two, Crowley said, “Yeah, not too bad, really. Not much I’d change, on this one. Just that the references to Heaven and Hell were probably a little too on the nose. And I’m pretty sure I used ‘complimentary’ incorrectly there.”

“Oh, really?” said Aziraphale, taking the letter as Crowley passed it back to him. He gave it another quick once-over. “No, I think ‘complimentary’ with an ‘i’ is correct. If it was an ‘e’ then it would be wrong, as in ‘complementary’—wait a moment.”

Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley so quickly he could have given himself whiplash. “You said I. ‘I used it incorrectly.’ Crowley. Did you—”

Crowley grinned, and crossed the room to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s brow. “Happy Valentine’s, Angel,” he said. “Well, happy February. The fourteenth went by and I had more I wanted to say, so I just sort of kept going.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. Who else, after all, could know Aziraphale so well? A human, with limited time on the planet, observing Aziraphale from afar, could never reach such an intimate understanding of him, and what he loved.

“Oh, my dear,” said Aziraphale. He glanced over at the pile. He was already planning a late night of reading through them all again, this time with the proper demon in mind. “Do I even have to say it?”

Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets and bobbed his head from side to side in a pantomime of thinking. “Well, considering it look me bloody ages to draft these all up, and write them by hand, and train the mice to deliver them, and stop myself from bragging about them to you every day for the last month—”

Aziraphale interrupted him with a kiss. “All right then,” he said, laughing. “Thank you, secret admirer.”

Crowley beamed. “Ah, it was no big deal, Angel.”

***

On February first of the following year, Crowley woke up to find an envelope sitting on his bedroom windowsill, outside his flat. It was addressed to “The handsome gentleman on the fifth floor,” and there was no return address. Inside was a letter, written on very old parchment and with very expensive ink, which read:

My dear,

Forgive me for my boldness, but I happened to see you in the Ritz the other day (you were with a rather good-looking gentleman in white, a very lucky man, if he had the privilege of being your dining companion), and you seemed to me to be the most dashing person in the room. Nay, in all of London. I found myself thinking about you for the rest of the evening, and I just had to draft up this letter to tell you exactly how lovely you looked that night. Though you wore dark glasses, I could occasionally catch a glimpse of your eyes behind them, and their beautiful golden color, and I found myself nearly speechless every time.

In all of creation, I have never found a being so wonderful to gaze upon. I imagine that if I were to, hypothetically, take the place of your ever-so-fortunate dining companion, and have a conversation and a drink with you, I would also never find someone so fascinating, so caring, so clever as you. I imagine if I were lucky enough to know you so well, your wit would be as dazzling as your eyes.

With the Greatest Affection,

Your Secret Admirer

Scrawled at the bottom of the page, in a much hastier hand, was a postscript. Crowley read it, cackled uproariously (which helped to hide his blushing), and went immediately to phone Aziraphale, intending to explain to him the point of having a secret admirer.

P.S.: Please do let me know if you received this! The doves are not very good with street directions, unfortunately. I am working on it with them. Much love! —A

Crowley also intended to tell him that he bloody well loved him, too.

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #gwyneth writes

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 62: Final Exam Part 4: Short Essay

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia! Please note, this chapter may undergo more extensive editing before it gets posted to AO3/FF.net, as there’s a lot of fight scenes that may need clarity editing.

Earlier chapters can be found here

The last blast of her Jetpack brought Sora to the ground, where some of her classmates, including Toshi, were waiting. Ordinarily, she might remove her helmet in order to have a clearer conversation or to wipe the sweat from her brown, but with a potential sniper on the loose, it seemed an undue risk. Instead, she used her tongue to adjust the small straw on the helmet’s right cheek and sipped from the juice it offered.

Satisfied with that, she tapped the side of her helmet and activated the communicator. “This is Jet-Red,” she announced. “I spotted nothing on my sweep of the western sector and have returned to base camp.”

Her brother’s voice quickly followed. “Jet-Blue responding,” he said. “Eastern sector air sweep is complete. No sign of any additional civilians or the Villains. They appear to have gone to ground.”

“Slyde here, nothing on the ground sweep of the north sector either,” Haimawari reported. “Heading back home.”

“You’re listening to Channel Stick ‘Em Up,” came Sero’s voice. “Nothing on my aerial view either. Where the hell are they? I didn’t expect to be playing Hide the Villain today. Totally unfair! Midoriya, I thought you said they were coming for us!”

Kirishima-Bakugo’s voice cut in. She was up on the roof of the civilian defense shelter with Kaminari, Aoyama, Izumi, and Shinso. Their ranged fighters, who could rain firepower down on any attackers or more easily shoot Raptor out of the air if it came to it. “Cut the chatter, you damn sorry excuse for a tape dispenser!”

“Okay,” Toshi said, his communicator filled with static. She’d done what she could to repair it, but it had gotten very damaged when he’d smacked into the building. Hopefully, her patch job would hold. “When you guys get back, we’ll brainstorm a new plan. With Shadow-Thief, they could be anywhere.”

As he clicked off the communicator, Toshi let out a sigh. “So much for that plan.” He was discouraged, she could tell. It had been nearly thirty minutes since they had regrouped and he had dispatched the speedier and more mobile members of the class to look for where the Villains might be coming from and they had nothing to show for it.

So many times, she and her classmates looked to him for direction. They always had. Toshi had always been the one looking out for all of them, even when they were small, making sure everyone was getting along, making sure everyone’s needs were met. With the fate of everyone’s passing being tied to this exam, it was little wonder he seemed to be feeling that even more strongly.

“When one hypothesis fails,” she said, “you must select another.” Slightly cautiously, she put her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t flinch away from the contact, which was good. Since they had last talked about it, he had been getting better about not being as anxious when they touched. “We believe in you, Toshi. And we will figure this out.”

Toshi nodded. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Sora.”

“Of course,” she said. “One of the requirements of being your girlfriend is supporting you in your endeavors.” She’d been reading excessively on “how to be a good girlfriend” on the internet. Much of the advice was contradictory and confusing, but she was attempting to sort through it all. If need be, there were more experienced sources of advice within the class as well. “Also, I am as invested in our success as a class as anyone.”

Above, she could hear Shinso’s sonar scream, sent out at regular intervals per Toshi’s directions, sweeping in a wide arc from west to east. The noise would probably let any Villains know they were being watched, but it was better than being caught completely unawares.

“I think I saw something this time!” Shinso reported. “Just a blip though. Like when Shadow-Thief was doing her shadow thing! Big group though… I think she’s moving all of them!”

“It looks like your hypothesis was correct after all,” Sora told Toshi. “Your time scale was merely inaccurate.”

Time scale… time scale… That had to be important…

Oh no.

Sora looked up and tracked the position of the sun in the sky, relative to where it had been early. Her eyes darted to the buildings across the street, where long shadows were starting to draw. Of course. The Villains had waited until they had opportunity to use the shadows to their advantage.

“Aoyama!” she shouted. “We need as much light as you can muster! Across the street! Now!”

But it was too late. The shadows across the street rippled as four figures began to rise out of it. The same Villains Shinso had identified before. Jawbreaker. Raptor. Kamuy. Shadow-Thief.

There was no time. The Villains were here.

“Okay, everybody!” Toshi called out. “Just like we planned it! Let’s take these guys down!”

***

Shinso, Todoroki, Aoyama, Kaminari, and Kirishima-Bakugo were still on the roof, ready to rain their firepower down from above. Tensei Iida, Sero, and Haimawari were still out in the field, heading back to the basecamp. On the ground, that left Midoriya, Sora Iida, Koda, Sato, Ojiro, Mineta, Tokoyami, and Daisuke. He’d been tense, waiting for the moment when the Villains appeared. He was strong, he knew. He was no Deku, of course, but still powerfully built. In training, he was used to be being able to take care of most simulated opponents with just a few blows.

Strength was hardly everything. It was why he trained his reflexes and his senses to their utmost and why he tried to maximize the range and mobility his Extendo-Arms offered him. He doubted that he would ever be a particularly highly ranked Hero, he shied away from the spotlight too much for that without factoring in anything else, but he was determined to be an effective one.

But for the first time, when fighting that Kamuy woman, his strength had been useless. Worse than useless, it had been turned against him. She’d thrown all the strength of his punches right back at him. Not a feeling he relished, nor one he hoped to experience again.

There was barely a moment between the Villains appearing, Midoriya’s direction, and the move by both sides to attack. A barrage of ranged attacks flew forth first: focused laser beams from Aoyama, explosive-infused disks from Kirishima-Bakugo, electrical blasts from Kaminari, waves of sonic-force from Shinso, and gouts of flame from Todoroki. They had the desired effect and the Villains scattered, with Raptor taking to the air on a giant gust of wind, Kamuy going right, and Jawbreaker going left. Shadow-Thief vanished back into the shadows… something that probably wasn’t going to be good.

He saw Sora Iida jetting into the air to fight Raptor, with Tokoyami dispatching Frog-Shadow to fight alongside her. He saw Mineta firing those sticky balls from her horns, trying to tag Kamuy. And before him, he saw Jawbreaker.

The Villain was more massive than Midoriya had described him, now made of both stone and metal, blending unevenly across his form. Daisuke glanced briefly to his right and saw Midoriya, then nodded.

Daisuke was too tall to go low, but he darted this way and that, dodging out of the way of Jawbreaker’s fists. Even weighed down with the extra mass, the big Villain was fast. He swung his second set of arms high and his third set of arms low and extended them out as fast as he could, smacking the Villain with a series of rapid-fire blows. Again and again, like pistons, he fired his four fists out, smacking hard against metal and rock.

“Argh!” He let out a cry of pain as his fists bounced uselessly against the Villain’s hide, not even denting the metal or cracking the rock.

“Was that supposed to hurt?” Jawbreaker taunted. He launched a powerful blow, but Daisuke got all three of his right side-arms in place to block it. That blow hurt too, but not as bad as it would have if he’d taken it full on. He held his ground at least.

“Would have been nice if it had,” he said. “But I’m just the distraction.”

Midoriya’s gravity enhanced fist smashed into the side of Jawbreaker’s head, sending him flying. Daisuke would be lying if he said he didn’t envy the gravity-backed powers Midoriya could put behind his blows. They made his best triple-haymaker look like a love tap. Jawbreaker skipped like a stone across the street for a moment, before digging in his fingers to stop himself. When he was stable, he jaw opened wide and he took a huge bite out of the street, his scoop like jaw shoveling in cement. As he did, he got bigger still, patches of cement spreading across his body.

Midoriya gave him a concerned look. “You up for hitting him some more? We’ve got to get him closer to our ranged attackers.”

Daisuke shrugged. He was definitely going to have sore knuckles after this. “Might as well…”

***

Mika let out a whoop as her sticky balls successfully pinned Kamuy’s feet to the ground. “In your face, giant lady!” she taunted, making a face. The massive woman was struggling to free her feet, shooting daggers in her direction.

“Ah, maybe don’t taunt the giant woman, Mineta?” Sato suggested.

“Definitely not a good idea,” Ojiro agreed.

There was a non-zero chance they were right. At the end of the day, her balls were very sticky, but they weren’t the universal sealant. On the other hand, seeing the woman fume was so much fun!

“When I get out of here,” Kamuy growled, “I am going to send you to the glue-factory, horse girl!”

“Oh, whatever,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “And I keep telling people, I’m a cow, now a horse!”

She pointed to Kamuy, turning her head to their snipers. “Todoroki! How about you show her how to chill?”

Above, Todoroki pointed and ice began to form around Kamuy. Mika wasn’t exactly sure on what her range was, but whatever it was, it was good. Being able to draw in heat and form ice just by pointing was a damn useful talent.

“Dammit,” Kamuy said. “Didn’t want to do this this early… Going to make you regret it, kid.” She seemed to shimmer for a second, then slammed a fist into the ground. The resultant shockwave rippled outward, blowing Mika, Ojiro, and Sato off their feet, and shattering both the her balls and Todoroki’s ice.

When Mika’s head stopped spinning, she could see Kamuy approaching her. She looked noticeably smaller, though still just as tall and still built like a truck. But noticeably less bulky all the same. She’d probably had to expend a lot of power to do that shockwave then.

Shinso had been surprisingly light on the details of Kamuy’s Quirk. She’d apparently only had a handful of public conflicts with Heroes before being imprisoned. But if they could get her to keep expending energy, maybe she’d run out?

She tried to prop herself up, but Kamuy was faster. The giant woman lifted her by her neck, squeezing just enough to hurt, but not so bad that she couldn’t breathe. Obviously, these guys weren’t allowed to kill them. No matter how much Aizawa had threatened to kick all their asses over the course of the term.

“No smartass remarks now, huh?” Kamuy asked, holding her at eye level. “You got me a little mad, but when I get mad, things get broken.” She raised Mika up a little higher, ready to give her a toss. “This is your last roundup, Hero.”

If she wasn’t about to get slammed into the pavement, Mika would really have appreciated the taunt. As far as those went, it was a good one. She kicked, ineffectively, slamming her hooves into Kamuy’s stomach. Of course, with her Quirk, it wasn’t doing much.

“You know,” Mika grunted, “you’re forgetting something…”

“Am I?” Kamuy’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “What’s that?”

“This close, I don’t gotta aim my balls. What goes up… comes down!”

She fired off a ball from her left horn and jerked her own head back. It didn’t go far, but it did distract Kamuy enough to look up. The ball smacked her right in the face. It wasn’t a big one, barely the size of a softball, but it did cover one eye and hit her with a pretty solid plop! The shock made her release Mika, who fell to the ground on her butt in an undignified heap.

Which was when Ojiro struck. Or at least, that’s what Mika assumed happened. Something struck Kamuy’s legs anyway, causing her to topple over backwards into a hole that definitely wasn’t there before.

“…What?”

“Sorry,” Sato said, suddenly at her side and offering her a hand up. She noticed he had some dirt on his face around his lips. The hole had to be his doing then. Beside him, Ojiro came back into view. “Didn’t mean for that to take so long.”

“Had to wait for a moment where we could actually do something,” Ojiro said. “Even if she didn’t see me, not much I could do unless she was off-balance.”

Mika waved it off. “Nah, you guys did good.”

Unfortunately, all it had bought them was a brief respite. Kamuy jumped out of the hole, landing with a solid thump.

She cracked her knuckles noisily. “You little Heroes used up your shot. Now it’s my turn.”

***

In the time between Tensei’s communication with the others and his arrival back at the civilian defense shelter, the scene had become a warzone. Below, he could see Shoji and Toshi fighting with Jawbreaker, with even Toshi’s gravity backed ricochet blows having little effect on the massive Villain. Haimawari arrived on the ground moments later, peppering Jawbreaker with his blasts, but he succeeded in only distracting him long enough to buy Toshi and Shoji a moment.

Also on the ground, Mineta, Sato, and Ojiro were dodging out of the way of Kamuy, mostly looking like they were trying to avoid giving her any additional power. Based upon his observation, she had decreased in overall mass by at least fifteen percent since his previous encounter with her. Tensei winced as Sato narrowly avoided another of the woman’s blows, but let out a sigh of relief as Takuma finally arrived on the scene, temporarily restraining Kamuy with his tape.

And in the air… Raptor was putting up a valiant fight against his sister and Tokoyami’s Frog-Shadow. According to both Shinso and Takuma, the winged Villain could not actually “fly” like winged Heroes like Hawks or Kestrel, instead relying on his ability to generate powerful winds to keep himself aloft. It required a continuous expenditure and forced him to keep himself in motion, much like his and his sister’s Jetpack Quirks.

But Raptor’s wind blasts were enough to keep both of his attacks from reaching him. Tensei poured on his speed as he watched his sister fire the capture rope built into her gauntlet, but it too was buffeted by the winds and fell back harmlessly.

Fortunately, Raptor did not see him. With one final burst of speed, he came up on the Villain and swung out a fist for a high speed punch. It connected with a solid clang of armored fist on flesh, sending Raptor tumbling out of the air.

“Good to see you are safe, Little Brother!” Sora said, as they both jetted after the Villain, who was flapping his wings and calling up a gale to right himself.

“As I must remind you, I am a statistically insignificant amount of time younger than you!” he snapped back. “That appellation is highly inappropriate!”

“Hey, argue later!” Frog-Shadow shouted after them, being recalled by Tokoyami. “Sheesh, when I’m being the sensible one…”

A sharp blade of wind split the air between them, forcing both Tensei and his sister into evasive maneuvers. The familiar was right. It was hardly the time for arguments. Instead, it was time for…

Tensei turned his head slightly to look at his sister, who, seeming to have sensed his intent, was now looking at him. “Double Rocket Attack?�� he asked.

“Double Rocket Attack!” Sora confirmed, confidently.

Both adjusted their flight paths so they were facing each other, then linked hands and fired an extra boost of speed through their Jetpacks. It sent them spinning and both stretched their legs out as far as they would go. Spinning around and around, Tensei’s legs smacked hard into Raptor, followed immediately by Sora’s, again and again.

“And make way for me!” Frog-Shadow shouted. Tensei and Sora backed off as, at what appeared to be Tokoyami’s direction, Frog-Shadow-swooped in and rushed Raptor, slamming into his mid-section, her arms and hands extending to grab his wings. Pinned, he seemed helpless as he slammed into the ground not far from Tokoyami.

Tensei touched down, Sora right behind him. “Is he subdued?” he asked.

“I am afraid not,” Tokoyami replied. “He is… struggling still.”

She was right. Frog-Shadow was strong, of course, but Raptor seemed to be a rather powerful Villain as well. And while she had pinned his wings enough to prevent them from use in flight, she could not grasp every feather… The tips of his wings snapped forward, hitting Frog-Shadow with focused and sharp blades of wind. The familiar let out a cry of alarm and pain one echoed by Tokoyami, and snapped back, allowing him to rise again. Raptor got back on his feet in an instant, wings spreading out behind him for another attack. They snapped forward, shooting out another blade of air. But it sailed over their heads.

“Ha!” Sora taunted. “You missed, Villain!”

Raptor simply sneered. “Did I?”

Tensei turned to look behind them, just in time to watch the wave of pressurized air slam into the roof of the civilian defense shelter, sending their classmates tumbling over the edge!

***

Koharu let out a sharp gasp as the members of Class 1-A who were on the roof were sent tumbling over the edge by the wind blast from Raptor. The girl with the white and red hair—Todoroki, she remembered now—reacted quickly though, forming an ice slide that brought them down to the ground chillily and probably uncomfortably, but all in one piece. The explosive girl, Kirishima-Bakugo, checked on Todoroki to make sure she was okay, but Todoroki pointed towards the fight. With that, the students who had been on the roof joined the fight proper.

“Still waiting on that answer, Kocho,” Aizawa said. “What would you do against these Villains?”

“Give the girl a break, Aizawa,” All Might said. “She wasn’t expecting to get challenged like that.”

“Heroes have to think on their feet,” Aizawa said. “If she can’t do that, she’s got no business joining my class.”

“She’s in the room, you two,” Vice-Principal Midnight reminded them.

“It’s, it’s okay,” Koharu said. “It’s a fair question.” On the screens, she watched as Kirishima-Bakugo hit Jawbreaker with a series of explosive-backed punches, giving Midoriya, Haimawari, and Shoji a brief respite. Even as he swatted her away, Shinso hit the Villain with a sonic blast of force.

“That the best you can do, kid?” Jawbreaker taunted, looming large over the small boy, who suddenly seemed even smaller in the moment. “You giving me the kid’s gloves treatment?”

There was a stillness in the room, a baited breath that told her this was a very important moment, even if she didn’t understand the context.

“Not… even… CLOSE!” Shinso made the word itself into a scream, hitting Jawbreaker with a much more powerful blast that knocked the Villain across the street.

“I knew he still had it in him!” Aizawa said, very nearly rising from his seat. Was he… proud? What was the story there? All Might and Midnight were much less restrained, letting out louder cheers.

“Ahem,” Aizawa said. “Back to the question.”

“Er, yes, sir,” Koharu said. “Jawbreaker… He’s got to see, right? So I’d probably try to blind him with my String Shot. I’m not strong enough to hurt him and he doesn’t look like he breathes, so I couldn’t use any of my scale powders, like my paralysis agent or my poison, so… I might be able to restrain him or at least keep him busy until somebody with a different Quirk comes along.”

Aizawa did not give her any indication as to whether or not that was the correct answer.

On the screens, the fights went on. Sero and Mineta combined their sticky Quirks to restrain Kamuy, setting up Kaminari and Todoroki to join the fight. Todoroki flicked a hand, sending out a wave of ice that covered her legs and temporarily immobilizing her, while Kaminari unleashed an electrical blast from her gauntlets. Kamuy jerked under the attack for a moment, but then began to laugh.

“Oh, yeah!” she cackled. “That’s the stuff!” She was growing larger and more muscular, breaking out of the ice easily.

“Oh, no fair!” Mineta shouted, dodging out of the way of Kamuy’s blows. “She can absorb energy too?! I know Shinso didn’t say that!”

“In his defense,” Aizawa said, seeming to come to the boy’s defense, “it didn’t come up much. All of her recorded battles were with Heroes with more physical Quirks.”

Koharu winced at Kamuy tagged Mineta with a heavy punch. The horned girl went flying, went down, and did not get up. Sero wrapped a strip of tape around her arm, but she flicked her arm and pulled him to her instead, smashing her other fist into his face with enough force to crack his helmet and drop him instantly.

“Um,” she said, feeling slightly bad watching 1-A get beat up like that. “Kamuy absorbs physical attacks. So I wouldn’t want to engage directly. But my scales would probably work. Keep her distracted, keep her fighting and breathing hard, and I could paralyze her or put her to sleep.”

Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option for the students fighting her. Powerful blows quickly took down Sato, the poor guy not getting a chance to do much now that she was powered up and enraged. Probably revenge for dropping the telephone pole on her. Kamuy turned her attention back to Kaminari and Todoroki, with Kaminari putting herself in front of the girl with the two-tone hair. Koharu watched as she plugged her Extension Cords into other parts of her uniform, opening panels that revealed lights and speakers. The resulting sound and light barrage stunned Kamuy for a moment, giving the girls a moment to retreat. In the resultant confusion, Koharu realized she’d lost track of Ojiro…

On another screen, the Heroes fighting Raptor were doing a little better than the rest. The glowing boy, Aoyama, had joined the Iida twins and Tokoyami, adding bolts of blinding light to the fight. With Raptor disoriented, the twins both jetted around him, firing some kind of capture line from their gauntlets, circling him several times to pin his wings. Tokoyami sent forth her frog thing again, and this time it let Raptor have it with a one-two punch that sent his head spinning, knocking the winged man down and out.

“And him,” Koharu said, “I’d probably end up fighting in the air, which isn’t great, even if I can actually fly and he’s just blasting himself around. Because those winds could send anything I send at him back or somewhere else. I’m immune to my own scales, but other people wouldn’t be. Too risky. He’s tough… but I might have to risk trying to out-fly-fight him. He doesn’t look like he’s meant for fighting someone who can stay up in the air with him.”

“Good answers!” All Might told her. The compliment made her smile. “Two out of five down. Think they can pull it off?”

***

Kimiko was about to do something incredibly stupid. But Mineta and Kenta were down and nothing Todoroki or Kaminari were throwing at Kamuy was going anything to slow her down for more than a moment. Plus, there was the whole absorbing energy thing to deal with, which nullified Kaminari’s best attacks.

She’d gone invisible as soon as the woman had started swinging. It had kept her safe, but it wasn’t doing anybody else any good. Kimiko considered herself pretty good in a fight and she was a master of hitting things (as Kenta and Takuma could tell you), but against Kamuy…

Todoroki unleashed a blast of flame and that was what finally made Kamuy falter, dodging out of the way of the fire. Fire wasn’t really energy like Kaminari’s electricity was, so maybe she couldn’t absorb that? Over her shoulder, she could see the group that had been fighting Raptor rushing to join the last two ongoing fights. The Twins were jetting off to help Midoriya’s group, while Aoyama and Tokoyami were coming Kamuy’s direction.

Either way, she had an opening. It was time to do something stupid. Keeping herself invisible and silent, she took a running jump and landed on Kamuy’s back.

“What the hell?” Kamuy shouted, trying to reach back to dislodge her. But as muscular as she was, she didn’t have the flexibility to dislodge her, especially since she couldn’t see her. Her legs wrapped around Kamuy’s middle, Kimiko reached up and put her hands on Kamuy’s face and extended her Quirk. Normally, when she extended her Quirk over someone else, if she did it right, she could allow them to continue to see, even though light was no longer reaching their eyes. Some kind of layering thing, Doctor Izumi had said, where she wasn’t stopping all of it, just some of it.

But if she pushed it just right…

She couldn’t see it, but she could only imagine the horror show that was Kamuy’s eyes disappearing from her face. “I can’t see!” Kamuy screamed, thrashing this way and that to try shake Kimiko off, but she’d learned more than a few things from her dad about clinging like a monkey. “Gonna kill you, brat…!”

“Hit her now, guys!” Kimiko yelled. “Hit her now!”

“But, I can’t…” Kaminari started.

“It would not be safe…” Todoroki added.

Right. Dammit. Kaminari’s electricity and Todoroki’s fire would probably hurt her too. Her best idea yet in this fight and she hadn’t thought it all the way through!

“Then leave it to moi!” Aoyama called out. She could hear a faint sound, growing louder, a high pitched whine as he powered up his light to intense levels. “Blinding Dazzle Beam!” Focused on Kamuy, Kimiko couldn’t see him from her perch, but she could hear the sound of a powerful laser firing.

Tokokyami’s voice joined in. “Verdant Cross-Slash!”

“Here I go!”

Kimiko jumped off just in time to see the combination of Aoyama’s laser and Tokoyami’s Frog-Shadow strike Kamuy, taking the big woman completely off guard and knocking her down.

“All right!” Kaminari shouted, doing what Kimiko hoped was supposed to be a victory dance. “Go team! Take that, scary giant lady!”

“Um, Chihiro…” Todoroki began, looking behind Kaminari.

“Not now, Izumi, I’m doing my victory dance!”

“I really think you should listen,” Tokoyami said.

“And look behind you,” Aoyama added.

“And please stop dancing,” Kimiko said. “It’s just embarrassing. And really not the time…!”

“Okay, I don’t know what I’m expecting to see, but I’m going to turn around and… aw, dammit!”

Kamuy was getting right back up. She was steaming and shrinking a little, maybe using some of what she’d absorbed to keep herself going… but she was far from down. The giant woman clapped her hands together faster than the eye could follow, unleashing a massive shockwave.

Kimiko only had time to scream before everything went dark.

#their hero academia #my hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic #my writing #kimiko ojiro #daisuke shoji #tensei iida (THA)#sora iida #Koharu Kocho #shouta aizawa

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metaphortunes · 4 years

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Howdy friends, I’ve written a few short stories that I wanted to throw out into the ether. And I went back and tagged all my previous writing posts with the tag “metaphortune writes” for easy finding!

Here’s a short story about small towns, the priorities of young people, the sweetness of summer, and siblings. I didn’t edit it at all so my apologies in advance for any grammar failures!

The Big Slush machine went out on Sunday, April 14th, 2005. If we’re being honest here, it was the only reason my sister and I went to Johnson’s Fuel Mart. Their soda fountain tasted like it dumped about as much plastic into every cup as it did soda syrup. Their candy was tremendously overpriced, they had 1 brand of chips, Big Harold’s, and they cleaned the floors about once every 2 years. But the Big Slushes were heaven.

Suffice to say, April 14th was the end of an era for us. Each passing week we drifted farther and farther from knowing those floors like the back of our hands. Our ability to use the Big Slush machine with surgical precision faded and we reverted to slushie peasants. Mona, the main evening clerk slowly forgot our names, and our allowances stayed in our pockets more than ever.

One Tuesday, July 14th, I walked to Frantz Park down on Alpine Road. The benches were covered in droplets of a syrupy, sappy resin from a tree I’d never learned the name of. After sitting on the 40-year-old swings for a while, rusty chains and all, I walked through the outfield of the baseball diamond.

There was a windstorm that blew through town on July 12th, so it was no surprise when, deep into center-field, I saw a few pieces of trash had blown into the grass. A 3ft long Walgreens receipt, a fast food wrapper, and the item that caught my attention. A full two months after the Big Slush machine went out, there it was. In pristine condition, a clear plastic Big Slush cup. 34 fluid ounces with a flared rim. No lid, no straw, just the cup.

Obviously, I was elated. I picked up the cup and started fast-walking home. Throughout the walk my mind was fixated on what I believed to be the one possible explanation for how the pristine Big Slush cup came to be there: somewhere in our 15 stoplight town, there was a new Big Slush machine.

Nora shared my enthusiasm for the cup, but was more skeptical of my hypothesis. Realistically speaking, there weren’t many other places that would’ve had the machine. Not to mention, would they have the good flavors? Blue Raspberry, White Cherry, and Cola? Would it even be worth it if the machine had the disappointment of Grape or the medicine taste of Strawberry? It was purely speculation, but our teenage minds raced.

The next day, geared up with a list of all the businesses we thought could have a Big Slush machine, we set out to find it. First, we walked up State Route 117 to the small grocery, Three Bear Market. No luck there, but they were having a sale on gum. Blowing giant, sticky bubbles, we walked to the next business. Cutting across the alley between State Route 117 and Terrence Street, we made it to McAllen’s Bakery. No luck there, but the owner was very nice and complimented our backpacks.

We took Terrence Street to Alpine Road and stopped for a short break at Frantz Park. The benches were still sappy, the swings were still rusty. Funny how things don’t change overnight. We walked the outfield of the baseball diamond looking for any other pieces of evidence, but alas, there was no trash to be found. That’s probably good in the grand scheme of things, but we were disappointed.

Walking through the streets with Nora was a slightly blissful experience. Not quite a full on sort of bliss where everything in the world is great and nothing ever hurts; but a soft, warm filter on everything. That’s the benefit of having a good relationship with your older sibling, having them around is like a blanket of security. Nothing can ever go THAT wrong when they’re with you.

We’d taken Alpine to First, then First to Reagan. On Reagan was the first gas station built in town, the Marathon, formerly known as the Brachston Pump Station. Marathon bought it up in 1996, installed all new pumps, remodeled the inside, and removed any character the building had had. Oh, and they didn’t have a Big Slush machine. Probably worth mentioning that.

From the Marathon on Reagan, we walked a block or so down the Walgreens. Walgreens having a slushie was a long shot, but didn’t pharmacies used to have soda fountains back in the day? It wasn’t THAT absurd. We wandered around the building to find exactly zero Big Slush machines. The clerks, disenchanted college dropouts, paid exactly zero attention to us.

The last place we tried was the only other gas station in town, Stop-N-Go. We had to walk the entire rest of the way down Reagan to where it dead-ended into Marshall Street and walk Marshall Street until it dead-ended into Montgomery Avenue. That all ends up being about a mile’s walk, but we were determined. We entered through the oddly heavy steel and glass door and asked the clerk. They didn’t have one.

However, the clerk, Henry, was also a fan. Or at least pretended to like them. As a favor to the owner, Henry worked one night at the other Stop-N-Go, about 4 miles away in Hallston back in 2003. He remembered them having a slushie machine, but couldn’t remember what type. We figured that even if it was there in 2003, it probably wasn’t there today, and slunk out of the store. But Henry came out after us and said “let me call the other store and ask them for you, alright?”

The clerk on the other end seemed very confused, but eventually was able to confirm the news we were so adamant on receiving: they had a Big Slush machine in working order! We expressed our joy and gratitude to Henry after he hung of the phone, he said he was “stoked it worked out for you.” We were stoked too, Henry.

We took Montgomery down to Fourth and ended up back home. Our parents wouldn’t be home from work for a few hours, which gave us time to plot exactly how we’d ask them to drive us 4 miles to go to a gas station. The plotting was all for naught, as they were tremendously unimpressed. “Next time we’re out that way, we’ll go” they said. But the reality of the situation was that we’d only been to Hallston a few times. It was in the opposite direction of Wrexham, the small city we’d go to from time to time.

Luckily, Nora remembered a fact that I had failed to remember. The rails-to-trails bike path that went through our town also went through Hallston. Neither of us were really that interested in biking, but if it meant getting a Big Slush? We’d have biked 20 miles one way. We got our bikes out for the first time in weeks that day, inflated the tires, tested our helmets, and set off.

Four miles is a hell of a bike ride when you haven’t biked in weeks. It was all flat land surrounded by farmer’s fields, but it was still 4 miles in the heat of July. Luckily, we had a frosty goal to keep our minds set on. Whenever we faltered or slowed down, the other would just say “Big Slush!!!” in a sort of TV commercial announcer voice. After a half an hour or so, we made it to the Hallston. Neither of us really knew where the Stop-N-Go was, but we fortune favored us. A Stop-N-Go fuel truck was stopping-n-going at the the traffic light near the bike path. We sped to follow it.

The truck took a left onto the state route and turned into the Stop-N-Go. Success! We found ourselves in the parking lot, shouting “Big Slush!!!” at each other in the aforementioned voice. We opened the surprisingly light (or just well maintained) steel and glass door and saw a large sign hanging from the ceiling that said “DRINKS” in Comic Sans. We walked towards the sign and found our holy grail. The Big Slush machine.

There it sat on a red counter, humming away and constantly rotating the slush inside. Condensation sat on the plastic windows to view each of the three flavors churning, and we parsed the flavor selection. Strawberry (aka medicine), Grape (aka disappointment), and White Cherry. As Meatloaf didn’t say: 1 out of 3 ain’t bad. But as we approached the machine, our hearts sunk. The White Cherry flavor was out of order.

We literally ran to the counter to ask the incredibly confused clerk what was happening and when it would be fixed. There was an error with the ratios of the newest White Cherry syrup batches which made the slushies too hard to fit through a straw. We begged the clerk to just turn it on and let us have some, we didn’t care that they’d be hard, we didn’t care how long it’d take, and we’d wait around; but the clerk refused.

Ultimately, we’d come too far for this to happen. We were going to drink a Big Slush and that was going to be the end of it. We swallowed our unhappiness and decided to get the flavors of medicine and disappointment. I got the Grape, Nora got the Strawberry. Honestly, they were not great. The Grape still tasted like the inside of a shoe, and the Strawberry still tasted like it was a slushie version of children’s liquid ibuprofen. But they still quenched a primal desire in us. Can you call a desire for a slushie a primal desire? Sure, why not.

The rest of the summer break, we’d bike to Hallston two or three times a week. Biking got easier each time we went, the rides got quicker, we had to shout “Big Slush!!!” at each other less. The White Cherry flavor never came back, but we learned to appreciate the Grape and Strawberry flavors. If we mixed the two, it almost tasted good for some reason. Grape and Strawberry isn’t exactly a combination you’d expect to taste cohesive and fulfilling, and yet, here we were.

Eventually the school year and extra-curriculars caught up with us and we were lucky to make it to the Hallston Stop-N-Go once a week. Our enthusiasm never waned, though. Each time, we hoped that they’d have finally gotten another flavor to replace the White Cherry, and yet, even a year after, they hadn’t. Strawberry and Grape. Medicine and Disappointment. Nora and Jamie.

#metaphortune writes

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