The way that Lena accepts the mantle of Storyteller even if it's the opposite of everything she ever wanted. In a way, you could see it was the elephant, the black dog haunting her waking moments, the looming, lurking knowledge that there will be a day where her friends and family are dead and gone and she's there, telling their stories to people who have long forgotten their names. If only to remind herself. If only to remind the world...

stones - cont.

from x

Luca locked his ankles around Ryan’s back as his new husband sank impossibly deep into his little body. A growl left Ryan’s chest, savage satisfaction that echoed Luca’s relieved whimper that they were finally, irrevocably joined. The mist had cleared, the old woman had disappeared as silently has she had come, and the strip of tartan that bound their wrists now lay on the mossy ground beside their discarded clothes at the base of the tall stone monoliths that surrounded them.

“Ry,” Luca moaned, clutching hard at Ryan’s strong tattooed shoulders. He was dizzy, all his nerve endings sparking with more than just the simple intrusion into his body. There was magic here, surrounding them, shielding them – holding them in the space between worlds he couldn’t hope to understand. His heart felt too big for his body, light radiating out of his chest as Ryan gripped his hips and pulled him ever closer.

“Luca.” Ryan gazed down at him, his eyes electric, his brow furrowed with concentration and no small amount of wonder. Luca swore he could see the same glow radiating from Ryan’s chest too, like their souls were too bright, too eager to mingle and bleed together to ever be contained in mere mortal flesh. Perhaps in this space, were the edges of the circle seemed hazy and echoes of memories that belonged to lives previously lived slid past behind his eyes - they couldn’t be.

Luca unlatched his clawed hands only to move them to Ryan’s face. The soft fuzz of Ryan’s beard was almost hazy under his palms but the strength of his cock stretching Luca’s hole was as real as anything.

“Here,” he heard himself whisper, his eyes locked on his lover. His soul mate, his husband. Through the sparks shivering through his body at Ryan’s intrusion, Luca swore he could see the shifts slither across Ryan’s visage. Subtle masks shimmering, overlaying the face he wore in this life with those from Luca’s soul memory, offering Luca glimpses of the men and the lives he’d lived before. “I’m here, Blake. I’m always going to be here. I’m always going to find you.”

Ryan answered him with solid thrust of his hips, driving himself deeper into Luca. They both moaned, the vision before Luca’s eyes momentarily blacking out as he allowed himself to succumb to the pleasure of Ryan’s velvet steel throbbing inside him. He threw his head back. It felt so good. It felt so right, like every wish had been granted, every destination reached. Like every curse had been broken.

“Blood of my blood,” Ryan ground out hoarsely, the words seeming to come from both far away and deep inside him. Luca’s eyes snapped open and he fell into the vivid blue that watched him. Ryan’s grip on his hips was almost bruising and Luca locked his ankles harder, keeping him impossibly deep.

Somewhere, deep inside him, a memory stirred.

They had exchanged these words before. Luca recognized them. 

“Blood of my blood... bone of my bone.”

Satisfaction and pride blazed in Ryan’s eyes as Luca repeated the vow and continued it. He pulled the words from deep within him, out of a place he couldn’t name. There was more buzzing under his skin, a rush in his ears. Ryan’s body inside his, their eyes locked, their limbs intertwined and their hearts beating in quiet tandem.

Ryan leaned down to brush his lips over Luca’s, ghosting his words against Luca’s mouth as he rotated his hips. His cock brushed over Luca’s secret spot, and Luca’s body lit up so much he gasped and arched his back. 

It only drove Ryan deeper.

“I give you my body,” Ryan rasped to him. “So that we two might be one.”

Luca’s hands fluttered against Ryan’s jaw. The glow felt like it was all around them now, burning bright and hot like a supernova. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the echo of voices, a song that he felt in his bones, a melody that felt like coming home.

But all he could see was the face of the man he had loved for millennia. The other part of his soul. His reason for existing. His promise that even when they were done here, there would be other lives, other worlds. More magic to bind them. Infinite possibilities and in each one, always seeking each other out.

Luca caught Ryan’s eye, and saw everything he felt reflected back at him. His heart swelled again. 

“I give you my spirit,” he told Ryan, shaky and almost desperate. It was less a repetition of an ancient vow and more his heart’s most solemn wish. He wanted this man, this soul. Wanted him with everything he had. “-till our life shall be done.”

They crashed their mouths together and Ryan began to rock into Luca in earnest. Against his belly, Luca’s own cock lay trapped between them, forgotten but leaking precum like a faulty tap from the waves of pleasure each push of Ryan's cock inside him brought. He rode the waves of Ryan’s swift thrusts, cresting high alongside his love. He was dimly aware of Ryan shifting, taking Luca’s dick into his calloused palm and stroking Luca in time with each one of his thrusts. Luca writhed and whined and cried as his peak came closer - and when he heard Ryan’s guttural moan, he knew Ryan was close too.

“Fill me,” he managed to whisper and he had the dizzying sensation that he was falling into Ryan, their chests blurring with each sinuous slide of their bodies. “Give me everything. I’m yours. Yours forever, I belong to you and only you, you’re the only one I want, I’ll follow you everywhere, I’ll always find you, I’ll always be yours just like it has always been-“

He didn’t realise the words he was babbling, just clinging to Ryan as Ryan pounded into him until finally giving a low shout. Luca let go and they both went tumbling over the edge. Luca came with his husband’s hand clenched tightly around his dick - and Ryan’s hot cock spurting white heat into his guts

We Can Make it to Reno

“I’m too tall for this toy car,” Lucy said as we climbed into my blue Mini Cooper. “We’re renting a real one.”

That was yesterday, in Bakersfield at the Budget car rental, where we ended up because at the last minute she didn’t want to travel in my Mini Cooper. I get it. It is kind of a toy car. And at five feet eleven inches, she is too tall for it.

We’re now a few hours south of Tahoe on the 395. The scenery is spectacular, just like a movie set. It’s one of those places that keeps you saying, “everyone should see this,” but deep inside you hope no one does because humans ruin things.

I can’t complain. Lucy was right. She’s always right. It’s her eyes, the way they miss nothing, and her voice, which is mesmerizing in an ASMR sort of way. And she is much more comfortable in this roomy rental car.

She talked me into this road trip, although I admit with little effort. Aside from the mesmerizing voice and eyes thing, her arguments were valid. She reminded me of a conversation we had a couple of years earlier as we stood in a work hallway decorated with vending machines. During that conversation she said: I was born and raised in Bakersfield and I’ve never even been to Yosemite, or Tahoe. Can you believe that?

I did, do believe it. It’s difficult to escape the gravitational pull of the glittering orb that is Los Angeles. So many young hopefuls get sucked right in, dreaming of becoming big stars. Few succeed. But Lucy, she could have been a star, there or anywhere, had she wanted to. She is more vital than anyone I’ve ever known. But she is not the type to deliver herself body and soul to wolves, so she and LA were never going to get along.

Myself, I’m an Orange County rarity. I never once entertained the notion of stardom or celebrity. I’m not like Lucy, with that internal supernova burning 24/7. Early on, the family let me know I was destined for mediocrity. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying just to hang on to my middle-class birthright, sometimes by my fingernails.

It makes me feel bad. Like I’ve tarnished the family legacy. I am fifth generation Angelino, from founding stock, people who laid out roads and bridges and legal arguments. Good conservative, intellectual republicans, in the pre-Regan sense. Private club types, even a few ancestors in the Grove, and a family cabin on Bear Mountain with a humidor in the den. Some public monuments here and there and a couple of endowments to hospitals. They were people who did things. But today’s descendants are all and only about money. Charitable causes no longer concern them. Poverty, they say, is a moral issue. Bootstraps, they say. They have exchanged civic duty for tickets to rallies.

One thing is certain. I am not good enough to stay at the family cabin. I’m not a golf club member who pays a thousand dollars to eat bland chicken breast at political fundraiser. I can’t afford that. I struggle to keep up. There have been times when I just slipped back down the ladder. It’s like watching yourself crash on a bicycle, a slow-motion wreck that tears the meat off your hands.

When we were at the Budget Car Rental office, Lucy mentioned the family cabin. I guess at some point I told her about it. I can’t remember that conversation and was surprised that she did.

“We should drive by and egg it,” she said.

This is Lucy’s first real road trip. She called it. I want her to have fun. But we won’t be egging anything along the way.

“Can we pull off at the next rest stop?” Lucy asks.

“Sure,” I say.

I know she’s going to be sick. She can’t help it. Chemo has that effect. The rental car is filled with the aromas of new car, coffee, and chemo. Even her hair reeks of chemo.

I pull over just south of Mammoth and help her to get out of the car. She prefers to go puke alone in the woods and takes the wet wipes with her. To look at her you’d never know how serious this situation is. The gravity of her illness is masked by her beauty. Primordial, natural, ethereal beauty. A constant that nothing is going to kill.

We first met five years ago, when I was recovering from a nasty bout of post-divorce depression. Not my first divorce, or depression. I had gotten a job in Riverside managing a Human Resources team. They were so committed to the company and to HR that I felt they were part of a cult. And the company was cult-like, one of those fast-rising semi-tech firms where everyone wears matching T-shirts, and the actual product isn’t really clear. A business whose whole existence pends from nebulous relationships between pots of federal monies and public-private partnerships. It seems that the company was making huge profits off Medicaid and Medicare, until a couple of years ago when it wasn’t. The CEO was indicted, and it all folded overnight. I still have half a dozen t-shirts.

Lucy was a top earner there, someone whose performance was in fact a performance and no one really knew it. I mean, I knew it because I figured it out during an actual performance review. I had no idea who the real person was, sitting there in front of me with a Ralph Lauren sweater hanging in a perfect drape over her square shoulders. She had been acting her way through each workday, and people loved her, well they loved the character she played.

“Doesn’t it become tiring?” I asked her, “all that acting?”

“Life is just a series of one act plays,” she replied. We became fast friends.

And then, one Friday afternoon, she came to my office to talk about the medical plans, the health savings account, and the 401k. She confided that she’d just been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer and was expecting to be bankrupt before she died.

What she said was: I know how these stories play out. I’m going to lose my job, my health insurance, then my house and my 401k. I’ll become a destitute ward of the state, living in a trailer or some horrifying nursing home with buzzers and alarms going off all day and all night. That is, if the chemo doesn’t kill me first.

I knew she was right. This is how we navigate health, and death, in this country. We had both seen close friends go through it. A slow and agonizing loss of dignity as everything you ever owned and worked for is sold off in yard sales so that you can afford your treatments. Anything of value goes. Any little memento. The monetization of your existence continues even after you’re dead.

But I wasn’t going to let that happen to Lucy. Or at least I wasn’t going to let her go through it all alone.

Today, we’ve been up since five a.m. because she loves the sunrise. It was a nice sunrise, all golden orange, like the yolk of a beautiful farm egg. And now the sky above is bird egg blue, with only a few cotton ball clouds lazing around the pale, mid-morning sun. The sky somehow reminds me of breakfast, and now I’m hungry for pancakes. And butter and eggs over easy.

When Lucy returns to the car, she is wobbly and hunched over. Whatever is happening inside her body gives her great pain. Yet she smiles as she spritzes herself with a cucumber water that she says refreshes her and makes her “less revolting to smell”.

“Puke and cuke,” she says.

I look at her and wink. I am without a doubt in love with her. Not in a romantic way. It’s more fan girl, or maybe spiritual, like I’m a novice and she’s the scholarly priest. I love her existence in a way that I have never loved my own.

“Next stop, Tahoe,” I say.

“Okay,” she says. “Wake me when we get there.”

She fully reclines the seat and pulls her superhero blanket over her chest and shoulders. I would never have taken her for a superhero fan, but she is really into Silver Surfer and Black Panther. The posters. The collectibles. The pajamas. When you live with someone, you learn how quirky they can be.

“Can you play some light classical music?” she asks. “Brahms, or Mozart?”

“Sure,” I say. I choose some classical lullabies, but she is fast asleep before the first one begins to play. It’s a Mozart piece with pleasing violins.

Many people find Lucy demanding and selfish. They do. I’ve heard them say that. But I don’t. She simply knows what she wants and doesn’t tolerate nonsense. She is who we all want to be but cannot because we don’t want to offend other people. I’m the worst. I mean, I married someone because he asked, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. To be fair, he was a good guy, and I did chase after him and we went on a wild ride there for a while, but that’s no reason to bring the government into things. I could have said no but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Lucy laughed so hard when I told her that story. She said that I should write a book because no one would believe how I get myself into what she calls my “particular pickles.” She can find the humor in things. It’s harder for me. That’s because she and I approach life from very different angles. For example, after the business folded, she cashed out her 401k, while I rolled mine into a different plan.

“Jesus,” I said to her. “You’re gonna owe so much in taxes.”

“Who cares?” she replied. “And if I don’t pay? There’s no downside for me. I’ll be dead before they can come after it.”

It’s hard to look someone in the eyes when they are so glib about their own mortality. We weren’t even sure how bad her situation was. At least I wasn’t. Maybe she was. But it all seemed so far away, theoretical, absurd even. Lucy could die? What nonsense. She will never die.

She moved in with me not too long after that and put her house up for sale. I have my own house. It’s actually kind of nice if you like those old mid-century modern houses with sunken living rooms and a nice patio. Very 1960. That’s how I’ve decorated it. It’s not in the best part of town, but I’m not a zip code scrutinizer and neither is she. She likes the garden and the lounge chairs.

I’m able to help her out because I’m not working right now. It’s been tough to find a job, at my age and pay grade. Middle aged women are kind of invisible. We can be sitting in a reception area awaiting an interview and no one will notice us. For hours. And when they do there’s always a visible disappointment. I look much better on paper. So, I have plenty of free time at the moment, and I don’t mind looking after her. She gets weak and needs someone to help with things like laundry and making the bed. Things the rest of us don’t think about, like taking out the trash, or putting groceries away. Tying shoes, putting on socks. Taking a shower. Private moments that now have to be shared. I don’t want some stranger handling Lucy.

Over the past year we’ve created our own little world. For example, we have high tea at seven o’clock. But not with my grandmother’s watercress or cucumber sandwiches and tea biscuits. Lucy prefers beef patties, or oxtail soup. She usually tells me a story at teatime, about her crazy family or her adventures abroad. Sometimes she tells me about her many suitors. For someone who likes to be alone and apart, her history is one of being surrounded by people.

But not now. It’s really only me. I don’t know why she chose me to see her through this. And she did. She chose me as her caretaker. I didn’t offer. She just said one day “I think I’ll come live with you” and that was it. So, I’ve been taking care of her ever since. I take her to appointments and handle the paperwork and the bills and the drug regimens and I make the meals and clean up the messes and worry about how she’s not eating. I also listen to her, to her stories and her dreams and her wishes. And she listens to me, to my hopes and dreams.

We do get a little bored with ourselves, sitting around the house all day. And so here we are cruising up the 395 to Tahoe, no particular plan, and very little luggage. We haven’t really stopped to see anything. We just remark from time to time about how beautiful or breathtaking or amazing something is. Mostly, Lucy sleeps. And I think about pancakes and bacon and eggs over easy.

“Are you hungry?” she mumbles. “‘Cause I can hear you wanting pancakes all the way over here.”

“I do want pancakes,” I say.

“Let’s stop for pancakes,” she says as she drifts off again.

My obsession with pancakes started long ago. I always tell Lucy that my father made the best pancakes, and how, when we were on family road trips, we’d always stop for pancakes and bacon and eggs.

The wait staff at the café next to Lake Topaz are sleepy eyed and lethargic, probably out late last night having some young fun. I remember being like them, all full of sexual energy and tension, reared up on hind legs, and then racing a race that is a thrill a second until we realize it’s a race to the end. That feeling, that surety that there is no end to the right now, and that we are its sovereigns, yes, I do indeed remember it.

I smile at the surfer-bro type pouring my coffee, and admire his blue green hair and matching tattoos, and how he is so practiced in the art of pouring coffee yet so detached from its purpose. I’ve known many such people over the years, whether coffee pourers, preachers, or CEOs. He smiles back at me and then disappears with his coffee pot to the server hiding place.

Lucy has pulled herself together and manages a broad smile. We are seated in a roomy booth where she can lounge in a way that evokes luxury rather than exhaustion. She’s having dry toast, which she dips into her cup of coffee.

“Did I ever tell you that my real name is Lucia?” she asks.

“Really?” I reply. “But your social security card says Lucy.”

“Yeah, I changed it when I got my citizenship,” she says. “I thought you should know.”

She’s looking into her coffee now, as if it is an oracle.

“Citizenship? I thought you were born and raised in Bakersfield,” I say.

“Oh, right,” she says, her voice becoming raspy. “No. Raised maybe. But it just sounds good, doesn’t it? Born and raised in Bakersfield. It makes it sound like I had no choice in matter.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” I say, watching her push the coffee cup away.

“You’re welcome,” she replies.

“My middle name is Erma,” I say as I apply more butter to my pancakes, as if this is a game of truth or dare. But it feels more, more than that.

“Emma?” she asks.

“No, Erma,” I say.

“That’s hilarious,” she says with a low chuckle. “Like an old church lady. Ha! You need one of those hats.”

She struggles a little, and I can hear her breathing now. She is wheezing and props herself up on the table. Before I can say anything, she says, “Don’t worry. I just took some morphine.”

We stay at the coffee shop, looking out towards lake Topaz and watching the anglers cast their lines. And we sit there, in the quiet cool until she is no longer able to tolerate the hardness of the booth. Somehow, she avoids the puking.

I help her into the car, her bones so sharp I fear they will tear through her skin.

“How were the pancakes?” she asks.

“Not bad,” I say.

“As good as your father’s?”

“No way,” I say as I get her tucked back into the car.

“Let’s skip Tahoe,” she says as she puts on her sunglasses. She looks so regal, sitting there.

“Really?” I ask. “But we’re so close. I thought you wanted to see it.”

“Let’s go to Reno,” she says.

“Reno?” I ask, taken aback. There’s nothing Reno about her.

“I’d rather die in Reno ... than Tahoe,” she says, each word a slow rasp of air. “It’ll get people talking. Mystery. Oh, she died in Reno? Possible cowboy intrigue. So much more interesting. Tahoe is too pedestrian. Flashy, but pedestrian.”

This is the first time that she has been so blunt about her death, so certain of its proximity. I see my reflection in her sunglasses and try to smile.

“Well alright then,” I say, “Reno here we come. I’ll book a hotel now.”

Lucy is asleep before I pull back onto the 395. Part of me believes that we’re going to get to Reno, have a few good laughs and then be back in Riverside by morning. I’m trying to remember the last story she told me. It was about an aunt, a colorful character who was once a diplomat to the United Nations, but now runs an NGO. She has some very successful relatives out there somewhere. I’ve never met them. But then, she’s never met mine.

I burp coffee and pancakes and bacon and reach for a mint. I keep them near me always. Mint soothes me. Lucy calls me mint-mouth because one time I ate a handful of Altoids in one go. She laughed so hard that day.

She moans in her sleep. I speed up a little.

We are now so close to the exit for Tahoe that I can smell the tanning lotion, and I am about to make some witty comment, but I see that Lucy is having trouble breathing. I reach over and take her hand. She gives me a light squeeze. Mozart is playing again. She is smiling.

“Now passing Tahoe,” I say.

“Fuck Tahoe,” she mumbles.

“Yeah, fuck it,” I say.

Just outside of Carson City, Lucy begins to heave. I know what’s coming so I pull off at the first gas station, and struggle to get her out of the car. She vomits dark fluid all over us and then falls back into the seat. I fight tears as I use the wet wipes to clean her face and her very beautiful Dior blouse, a cavalcade of reds, oranges, and yellows with bejeweled gold buttons.

“Spritz me,” she says.

“Puke and cuke,” I say as I kneel down beside her, my knees against the hot pavement as I clean the vomit from her legs and from the car door.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” I ask.

“Depends,” she replies.

“Depends on what?” I ask.

“I’m wearing depends,” she replies.

“Okay,” I reply, trying to smile. “I’m gonna go clean up. You okay alone?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Where are we?”

“Carson City, ish.”

“I can’t die here,” she says, leaning up enough to peek out the window. “God, no.”

“I know,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” I say it with confidence, the way it should be said.

I rush off to find a bathroom, try to clean myself up. But I’m shaking with fear. Every nerve in my body is on fire. It’s a struggle to get the bathroom door closed, I’m shaking so hard. I feel as though I might pass out. Deep breaths, I think. Deep, deep breaths.

In the mirror, I see the mess I am. Eyes puffy. Hair a wreck. Vomit all over my white tank top. I rip off the tank top and rinse it out in the sink, the lukewarm water trickling through my fingers. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Mascara smears. Clean up. Look good. Look happy. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“I don’t want her to die,” I whisper. “No, no, no.”

I can’t bear it. I can’t just put on a mask and pretend like this isn’t killing me, too. I’m angry that it’s her and not me. I’ve added nothing to this world but a trail of misery and disappointment. Why am I standing here, healthy and probably as long lived as the rest of my selfish family when she is dying right in front of me? She doesn’t deserve this. I slam my fists on the counter over and over and over until I catch another glimpse of my crazy face in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, pull yourself together,” I whisper, and repeat until I am back in the car in my wet tank top, smiling and assuring her that all is fine.

“Okay,” I say as I buckle up. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she says. Her hand lies limp on the console. I take it and squeeze it.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“Love yourself,” she says, her voice now so small and weak that I have to lean in to hear her.

“What?” I ask, not sure what I heard.

“Why don’t you love yourself?” she asks in that small voice, “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. Love yourself. Promise me.”

I squeeze her hand, a long, tight, gripping squeeze that lasts a little too long.  

“I don’t know how,” I reply. I fight tears again. They squirt out in defiance.

“You love me,” she rasps. “Not easy to love. Love yourself. Promise.”

“I promise,” I say, and she squeezes my hand.

“Reno,” she says.

“We can make it to Reno,” I say. But I am fearful. She is weak. Her breathing labored. I’m shaking so hard I can’t get the key in the ignition. Instead, I start to sob.

She gives my arm a slight slap with the back of her hand. “Bitch, I love you,” she rasps. “Don’t piss me off.”

I immediately stop sobbing, manage a blubbering laugh. Wipe my nose on the back of my hand.

“Seriously,” she says.

“Got it,” I say, and manage to get the car started and back on the road. But I’m still shaking.

That’s the real difference between us. She loves herself. Openly. I never learned to do that. My golf club republican family only taught the love of money and success. God loves people with money, they say. Wealth is the proof of god’s love, they say. They have made Heaven into a gated community.

Heaven. I haven’t thought about heaven in years. And now, here, with Lucy dying right beside me, heaven seems like a fairytale, a story we tell each other to make the loss less painful. The reality is that when she’s gone, she is gone. Even if there is a heaven the Lucy beside me will be gone. I’ll never hear her voice again.

Carson City is coming up fast. It is the opposite of a glittering orb or a city filled with bright lights. The phrase “Frontier Town” comes to mind, with a sheriff and tin stars and a Mayberry jail. I slow down as we merge with the local traffic.

Lucy moans and reaches for my hand. Her grip is weak but warm. I glance at her, noting how her head is tilted away from me, and I can see a tiny speck of drool in the corner of her mouth.

Relief. We have made it past Carson City. Only one hour until we reach Reno.

My mind is all over the place, my adrenaline pumping through every tissue, even my tastebuds. I eat another mint, crushing it instantly. Mint mouth, that’s me.

Mile markers fly by. My stomach is burning. Lucy moans.

I turn off the music, and can hear her gurgle, a low rattling sound.She releases my hand. I grab her by the wrist and feel for a pulse. It is weak and slow. She moans again.

“Hey Lucia,” I say. “Erma mint mouth, here. Don’t die on me now. We can do it. We can make it to Reno.”

I look at her, a tiny smile in the corner of her mouth, and I think, yes, we can make it to Reno.

“Just thirty minutes,” I say. “Give me thirty goddamn minutes. We can make it to Reno!”

I step on the gas and dare anyone to stop me. I am fierce, that’s what she always says. I can’t let her down.

“We’re gonna make it,” I say. I refuse to fail. Because Lucy is better than that. Because I’m better than that.

I grip the steering wheel and lean in, peering at the road and then the words come out, exploding.

 “Why? Why did I believe them? Who are they to tell me who I am? Fuck them. I’m better than they are. You told me that so many times. And you’re right. You’re always right!”

Yes, I can see it now. I am better. I always have been. Why couldn’t I see that before? All those years they called me a loser. A do gooder. A flake. For the first time, it is all clear to me. I am so much better than they are because I will be there when it counts.

I glance at her she is still smiling. I breathe, in and out, in and out. We will make it to Reno. We will.

Supernova (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mental health issues and episodes.

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: As the daughter of Wonder Woman, you always knew you were destined for something more than the life of a mortal. It seemed like your wish for a life of adventure came true but whether in the form of a blessing or curse, you didn’t know. All you know is that you were the sole witness for a chain of murders that would begin. It’s up to you to find out who was the murderer before it’s too late……

A/N: Oof it has been a while since the last update

Supernova Masterlist

“I told you specifically that you were not to get involved! And you deliberately disobeyed me!” Your mother scolded but her voice was getting a decibel louder each time. You looked unfazed and unbothered, not even trying to maintain eye-contact while receiving your mother’s disappointment and instead staring out the window.

It was not what you had wanted to hear at the moment if you were being honest. The past few days had been hard and you even missed training since Valerie’s death. Robin had been by your room multiple times trying to get you out of bed but you just remained there. Not living, not dying, just existing.

Your mother’s comfort might have done nothing to change the way you downward spiraled after the events and while your mother yelled at you, the same images kept replaying in your head as they did for the past few days; Robin ripping you away from her body as the police and press showed up, Valerie’s parents finding out what happened and then watching her mother break down in front of her daughter, Valerie’s little sister wailing during the funeral.

You didn’t leave the bed after that, still dressed in the black blazer and trousers you had worn that day. It had been a couple days. You had managed to swallow down Robin’s green smoothies and even a couple slices of fruit but you didn’t quite remember what it was. They all tasted bland and disgusting.

Your mother had found out about your identity through the multiple press reports and articles and while you were sorry that she had to find out that way, you didn’t have the capacity to show it. The last thing you had was the energy to fight with her, or even resist her.

So instead, you just listened to whatever she had to say, hoping that she’d leave sooner or later but the more you felt your head throb, the more frustrated you got. This was just so typical of her, of course the unstoppable, fearless, undefeatable Wonder Woman would have no idea what you were going through. And instead of asking you for your two cents, instead of comforting you, she had been trying to imprint her anxieties onto you.

Had she even thought how hard this must have been for you? For even a second? You couldn’t imagine it because if she had thought about you for even a moment, she would’ve realized that you literally saw your best friend murdered before your eyes. She would’ve realized that you were feeling like you didn’t deserve to live on the face of the earth. And she would’ve tried to comfort you.

Instead, she stormed into your room, tossing her phone with the news article on the bed before beginning her lecture and now fifteen minutes later she had yet to ask you if you were okay.

Her argument was stupid as well. You didn’t ask for any of this to happen to you; you were hardly responsible and yet no matter how hard you tried to avoid the matter, it kept pulling you back in. You couldn’t deal with this like a human, no matter how much your mother wanted you to, because you knew that you were more than that and you could have done something. It left you feeling guilty.

But at the same time, you couldn’t handle this as a god because you weren’t. You kept thinking about how you ended up coming short in each fight; had you been blessed with just a little more, had you not been part human then you wouldn’t have gotten injured the night Mary-Anne got captured and you would’ve saved her. If you weren’t limited, you would’ve been faster the day Valerie was killed, you would’ve reached her before it happened, you would’ve stopped it.

You were truly useless, but you didn’t have the excuse to be.

That made you feel absolutely worthless. Even after being blessed with so much, you still came up short. You still failed.

And who was to blame for that? The cruel fate that had you in the position you were today.

“If you weren’t my daughter—” Your mother muttered to herself in her anger, realizing that you weren’t reacting to anything she said but you caught the start of her sentence, cutting her off with a humorless and tired laugh.

“If I wasn’t your daughter,” You finally looked at her and you saw her features morph into one of worry when she finally noticed all the tears that were skating down your cheeks, “I wouldn’t be here.”

“Three people are dead, mom.” You cried, voice cracking but she stood there as if she was nailed to her place, “And I only have myself to blame. If I had been faster, stronger, if I didn’t have these human side to me, they wouldn’t be.”

“I can’t live like a god because I’m not competent enough, not gifted enough.” You sobbed, wiping away your tears and holding a hand up when she tried to approach you. You were too overwhelmed at the moment, too much input was there and it was overloading all your senses, “And I can’t live like a human because if I was this wouldn’t be happening to me.”

“If I wasn’t your daughter,” You spoke and it scared her with just how much malice you put into it, like you were disgusted with yourself for being her child and in a way, you were, how could you be Wonder Woman’s daughter and still be so weak?

“Those people wouldn’t have died when I was there to do something about it. Mary-Anne would have been gone without me knowing, my principal wouldn’t have been a casualty and I would’ve gotten Achilles’ tarot.” It was like you had given up. So many emotions were rushing through you that you couldn’t understand what was pushing you anymore, if there was anything there.

You weren’t ready just yet to give up on being a hero, not after another death. You wanted to help, you couldn’t continue to be useless and yet it felt like you were burning the candle at both ends.

“Please just go. I don’t expect Wonder Woman to understand what it’s like to be caught between paradise and hell.” You said, laying down once again and pulling the covers over your head, “Just go.”

You heard the door open and click shut before you were bathed in silence and darkness once again. For a minute it felt peaceful and you let the minutes bleed into hours without realizing just how much time passed as you were curled up in the hollow of your blankets.

You heard the door click open but didn’t bother to rear your head from your shelter until you felt someone poke you in the back. When you turned, Robin was standing with a tray in his hands and a reassuring smile on his face, “I got you something to drink.”

He didn’t ruin the silence that you had been yearning for, in fact the sound of his voice was sweet to the ears. This was what you needed.

Shifting slightly, you patted the empty spot next to you and when he settled comfortably beside you, it wasn’t suffocating or difficult like how you felt with your mother. Robin handed you the glass of fruit cocktail smoothie and you accepted, sipping the drink quietly and enjoying the chill slipping down your throat.

This wasn’t uncommon. Ever since you both started training together, you often found yourself searching for him when you needed comfort, since Robin was the one you had gotten closest to during your stay here. Now, with just an inch of distance between you, you were feeding off his energy and it was putting you at ease.

You leaned your head against his shoulder and he didn’t flinch, having been used to it by now but the first time you had even held his hand, the poor boy had jumped out his skin. You just needed the physical touch to put you in balance for a while and recharge, he realized that a while ago. Robin even felt better himself whenever you played with his fingers, specifically taking off his gloves to feel his skin or leaned against his back after a long day of training.

It felt so intimate but not romantic. He just felt needed and supportive whenever you relied on him this way, delicately threading your fingers together and sitting in the silence of your room. He didn’t even have to look at you, just feeling his presence beside you was okay.

The sound of you finished the drink through the straw filled his ears before he realized he should speak up.

“(Y/N).” He said gently and you didn’t lift your head, just humming to show that you had heard him, “They’re interrogating her murderer today.”

He would’ve thought that you were unshaken by the news had he not felt your hands tighten its grip on his. You just nodded, burying your head closer to his neck, wishing the ground would just suck you in. He didn’t say anything else, gently drumming the fingers that were set on his thigh.

***

Your hands clenched into fists as you gazed at the figure behind the one-way window. She looked too simple, too mundane to be a murderer but you knew she was the one responsible for Valerie’s death. Afterall, you had been the one to catch her red-handed.

Messy red hair was thrown into a bun, her unkempt strands and frizz making her look like she hadn’t slept in days and you were part to blame for that. Her lip was still split from where you punched her, your knuckles pricked at the sight, eager for more.

Looking at her, you couldn’t imagine how she was responsible for this, a frail looking woman who looked like she couldn’t even hurt a fly. Her name was Thelma, at least that’s what it says on her identity card. Thelma had been denying that as her name since the interrogation had begun.

Going through her file, she looked just as you had assumed; ordinary.

Batman hadn’t gotten a word out of her, she had refused to co-operate with the interrogation at all, pretending not to hear his questions, going as far as to even deny committing the crime at all. That part made you clench your jaw so tight you could’ve sworn your teeth could crack. She knew she had the advantage here.

As per the rules from the UN, you weren’t allowed to use the lasso of Hestia without her consent to assist the interrogation as it violates their right to remain silent. Watching her blatantly deny the crime that you knew she had committed had your blood boiling in your veins. If only you could wrap Hestia’s rope around her throat.

You growled as Batman tried to intimidate her but it was in vain before grabbing the lasso from your mother’s waist and stomping to the door.

“(Y/N)!” She warned, as if daring you to defy her again.

You didn’t even spare her a glance before throwing the door open and stepping inside. Batman stalked up to you quickly, leaning in with a cold fury but you didn’t back down, holding his stare. You couldn’t just stand back anymore, the feeling of knowing that you could have done something but didn’t was too much for you to take anymore.

“Give me a chance.” You murmured, “I won’t go against protocol. You have my word.”

His gaze hardened for a second before giving you a curt nod and moving to the corner of the room. He didn’t trust you not to lose your temper, not just yet and you were more than determined to prove one of the big three that you could handle yourself. Although the urge to slap the condescending look off her face was getting more tempting.

You fastened the rope to your belt before stepping in front of the table, resting your hands against it in a self-satisfying way that you saw in movie before finally looking Valerie’s murderer in the eye. Haggard green eyes behind thick lenses and wrinkles running deep into her pale skin. She looked pathetic. That made you feel both frustrated and proud.

“Your name is Paris,” You bit out with such venom, making sure to keep your voice loud enough for the members behind the glass to hear you clearly, “Isn’t it?”

She smirked and her eyes flashed with some pride that had you resisting the urge to throw her across the room. It would be so easy to snap her neck right then and there, to make her pay for what she did to your dear friend but you controlled yourself.

“Finally, someone with a brain.”

You mirrored her smirk, feeling your spine straightened with a little confidence, your hunch had been right, “How couldn’t I have known The Great Paris? The brave soldier who slayed Mighty Achilles.” You purred, taking your eyes off her and glancing at the glass. You were keeping your tone even, your gaze steady to show your mother but you were comforted knowing that Robin was behind it.

“The brave, skilled, mighty Trojan Prince Paris. Made a name for himself by being the best of his kind. Only a mortal but still managed to take down a divine god.” You droned, noticing how she began beaming at your words. You turned back to her and even though it was just a moment, they had seen something change in your eye. Your glare turned dark and you smirked.

“Only we both know one thing; your name isn’t Paris.” Her smile vanished and you took a step closer, sitting right across her to look her in the eye. “Tell me if this sounds familiar, hmm? A lonely, old woman living all alone. She’s at a dead-end job. She has no family, no friends, no light in her life.”

The way you spoke had your mother on edge. Every single word that came out of your mouth was like hitting a nail on the head. It was unlike anyone had ever seen before.

Robin clutched his cape nervously in his hands as he watched you interrogate Thelma with something settling in the pit of his stomach. He had seen that look before, the very same dark glare on his father and now it scared him that it was almost identical on you. He couldn’t let you turn out as his dad, he just couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“And then finally she gets something in her life. A chance at hope. A chance at purpose. Something to finally make her believe that her life is worth living. Sound familiar? I bet it does, Thelma.” You hissed, “Because that pathetic woman was you, wasn’t it? You thought that if you killed Achilles you’d be rewarded, worshipped even. And finally, your miserable little life would have some meaning. Didn’t you?”

The look of fear in her eyes fed your hunger for a while. She was shaking her head feebly, looking at the ground since she couldn’t hold your gaze and you could only get angrier. Where was the pride and arrogance that she was showing earlier? Where was the crazed look in her eye as she murdered your best friend in cold blood?

“Only you were stupid,” You spat, “You were careless and you got caught. And suddenly, you weren’t the Mighty Paris that defeated Achilles. No, you were pathetic, irrelevant little Thelma who killed an underaged, unprotected girl in the locker room of her high school. I saw it all. You’re despicable.”

Robin watched your eyes swirl with a darkness he had never seen before. You were always trying to fight against your demons that were pulling you into the deepest recesses of your mind but now it was like you had finally surrendered to it. It was scary to watch such a pure person slowly get corrupted and Robin felt his resolve harden a little. He wouldn’t let you end up like the Dark Knight.

He had known Wonder Woman for most of his life and it was always your mother’s unconditional love and hope for the human race that made her what she stood as today. You always wanted to be like your mother, in body and mind. Now it felt like you were throwing away all those principles. Now it was to protect your own, and no one else.

If there was anything he could do to prevent you from going down that path he would, he realized when he saw the manic look in your eye. You were so close to being lost. Robin spared a glance at your mother, seeing her stand steady and tall. You were teetering over the edge at the moment and if your mother pushed just a little in the wrong way, you could possibly be lost to the rest of them. He wouldn’t let it come to that.

The darkness storming in your eyes suddenly ceased. Your features went slack in a terrifying way as you leaned towards the shivering woman in front of you as your fingers went white around the edges of the table.

“You took something very precious from me,” It was like poison was dripping from your tongue and you kept your voice low enough so only the both of you would know what you were saying, “Watch how easily I can do the same to you.”

Suddenly you pulled back and turned towards Batman with a small, disarming smile, “She’s free to go, Batman. She isn’t the one who killed Valerie. She’s just an ordinary, insignificant civilian.”

It was like a thread snapped.

“I DID IT! I KILLED HER! IT WAS ME!” Thelma shrieked lunatically, kicking the table and banging her hand-cuffed hands against the tabletop. She began sobbing loudly, screaming about how she was the one who killed Valerie and your heart lightened with satisfaction just a little. Just what you wanted.

“It’s my word against yours, Thelma. I witnessed the murder. I just think you’re just confused.” You replied, seemingly unfazed by her episode. The way she was crying in poor agony would usually have you off-put, concerned even. But right now, all you felt was your eardrums sting. She deserved none of your remorse.

“NO! NO, I DID IT! I DID IT!”

The smirk on your face was unmistakable, “Oh really? Will your confession hold up against the Lasso of Truth? Do you think it can?”

Her crying died down until she was softly sobbing into her hands, knowing that she had no other way out. She had lost, “Yes. I did it.”

You loosened the lasso around your waist, letting one end fall to the ground before wrapping it once around your wrist for better leverage, “Then let the interrogation begin.”

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Any fic for Yvette

(Written by @evoedbd.  Minor spoilers. Minor swearing.  Minor violence. Questionably a monster kink. 100% a Yvette kink)

It was there. The Void. Maw opened, pained groan echoing through the air like melancholy sobbing even as it began drawing the world into it’s oblivion. The darkness crept in, tainted by swirling dust on the supernatural gust summoned by the Void. That soft breeze somehow whipped, whispers of the disaster ready to strike as the Void awoke, as it settled, hollow eyes focused solely on Ni.

The mechanic froze.

Yvette’s terrified screams echoed, her battle cry of Ni’s name echoing for every demon she cut down, blue flames blazing in her sapphire eyes and down the length of her blade. Vuzgamad’s chosen was showcasing why she had been chosen to destroy the world, or perhaps what being chosen had done to her. She spun and slashed; a hundred demons inconsequential in the face of her greatest sin. Her Greed. For so long, her greed had gone unsated, filled with the cold comfort of riches that could feed a third world country. The void within her expanding through the twinkle of her humanity for every grandiose illusion. A price she paid for a cost she did not even care to know. Now, there was no illusion that could hide the fear, the desperation as she clawed from the molten core of the earth, through an army of hell, towards a solitary mortal. She, an insatiable storm wreaking havoc on all that stood in her way.

Just like the Void.

The creature was terrifying, deterrable but unstoppable. The two should not exist within the same being. This insatiable creature that fed upon everything Ni loved. That hounded her movements just as Yvette’s gaze did. The mechanic blinked. She was on the cusp of understanding, fingertips brushing serenity even on the middle of a battlefield. Surrounded by lava bursting through the Earth’s crust to Yvette’s desperation. Surrounded by the screams of her team, the family that had chosen her, by the snarling of demons that cloyed to them like drunken in-laws one couldn’t escape. All disaster that should have been swallowing her whole. Should be melting her flesh from her bones, heck, even her bones at these temperatures. She should be dead or fighting for her life at Yvette’s side. This was the end. Literal Hell on Earth, yet here she stood, suspended in a moment with the creature who had been hunting her since Yvette had emerged from that volcano. Standing upon what was perhaps the only undisturbed ground within the battle, as if nothing dared cross the sanctity of the Void.

Her brows furrowed. Why had this creature saved her?

It had saved her, afterall. Dragged her from the edge, taloned hands so unimaginably gentle. Its swallowing void merely teasing across Ni’s skin, swallowing the flames and blows destined to collide with her flesh. The flames Yvette had struck at the creature with to protect her. Now, Yvette was closing in, her flames devouring the demons who drew too close. Her sword was not enough, not anymore. Blue flames danced at her fingertips, forming the talons her hands tore at the world with. Hands that had forged her fortune, had carved a place for her existence out of the stone of misfortune. Hands that Greedily claimed Ni again and again, even before the blessing of skin against skin was possible. Hands Yvette would see filled with the one thing she so desperately desired.

It was an unfortunate demon who drew too close who filled Yvette’s hands this time. The Assassin’s hand gathered around the back of the Demon’s head, gathering a fistful of auburn hair to wrench an unkempt head sideways. Already, the demon burned at the brush of a thumb across its cheek, yet that was not enough for Greed. She tossed the demon aside, barely pausing to step over its slumped body before a sharp slash of her blade left its throat rendered open, gushing black sand as it gargled on the last of its existence.

Its existence hardly mattered to Yvette, not when her hand was extended desperately towards Ni, flaming talons and fingers curled, a gesture so strikingly familiar Ni almost staggered. If This was Yvette’s gesture, then… Her head whipped back to the Void.

There was something captivating about the Void. A torso defined by the swirl of an aquatic tinged galaxy. Pure energy, bubbling and twisting as if about to implode, contained within a tangle of veins of unpolished obsidian acting like an exoskeleton. These veins thickened into form, defining an extended hand like the gauntlets of a dark knight of legend. A hand mirroring Yvette’s so precisely that Ni was left speechless. Carbon formed the Void’s face, features that slowly became more familiar the longer Ni was allowed to stare. The tendrils of void and smoke emanating from the creature could no longer conceal the truth bubbling within Ni’s mind. The curl of its chin, although skeletal and masculine was so familiar to her. As familiar as gentle skin and feminine beauty. A mirror. An echo. How had she never noticed the jawline? Was it the gauntness of cheeks? The slits of eyes, shining brighter than the moment of a supernova birthed into existence, that held such a similar angle. It took so much, yet so little to recognise the mannerisms within the creature. That it was not rage that carved its features into such a violent sneer, but the features that morphed such an innocent expression into something so monstrous. Agony. Misery. The crumbling expression when its one true desire was torn from it. The hopelessness that it could never be enough. Could never be the part Ni desired of Greed. It was the ugliness, yet now Ni could only recognise the beauty.

“Yvette.”

Just like she was the rope in some twisted game of tug-o-war, tearing her from Yvette’s side had only awakened the desperation within Greed. It was so obvious now, a truth they’d all spoken but never realised. The spirit of Yvette’s Greed given form, seeking the truth of its nature, only to be denied by the human mask it had worn for so long. A piece of Yvette she could not control. A piece she lived in conflict with, a piece she’d never been able to feed. A piece forced upon her. Of course, her hatred for it might blind her, it made so much sense Ni almost cursed herself for never considering it before this moment. This was not Yvette’s to control, it was Ni’s.

“Yvette.” Again, she spoke the name, only this time she addressed it to the Void.

“I get it now. I’m sorry. Oh, Yvette I am so, so sorry. I was so caught up that I could touch you, that finally we could… I never realised how you’d hurt yourself. You tore yourself to pieces, but you still kept coming back to me. I was so blinded by our light that I couldn’t see you weren’t casting a shadow. I see it now, though. I see you.”

“Ni! What the fuck are you doing? Get back!” Vinca’s voice cut across the din, chaotic flares of red announcing her twisting a path closer to the creature. Dark knives had demons dropping with spectacular flicks of her wrist, disrupting the curtains of red hanging like charms from her shoulders. Ni turned back to the Void, catching the moment it’s face contorted to focused wrath, calculating the threat approaching. Hurt. Afraid to lose now that it finally had the understanding it sought. Ni could only shake her head.

“Don’t you get it? She won’t hurt me!”

“She? Have you lost your fucking shit? Yvette is in the pit and you-”

“You don’t get it! We didn’t see. None of us could understand what we were doing! Yvette didn’t just empty her soul into that Volcano… she split it!”

“Split it? Wouldn’t that mean there’d be two of her?” Trudy questioned, pausing to duck under a Demon’s fist. Vinca was there, a sharp flick of her wrist ending the threat before Trudy even stood up.

“Think about it! My light can destroy almost anything. Especially with Yvette by my side, reminding me why I shine so brightly. If I can split mountains and demons, why can’t I do the same to The Void. The only thing I can’t make it hurt, that it can’t exist to hurt, is the reason it shines.”

“You’re not saying-” Laz’s sentence faded into a grunt, struck in the chest by a demon’s foot.

“The Void is Yvette. Not a by-product. Not some monster. It’s a piece of her! It’s been trying to come back, and we’ve- Fuck! We’ve been trying to destroy it. Destroy Yvette. That’s why this is happening! How can she control her fire when she isn’t whole?” Ni cried, voice echoing moments ahead of another tremor. The depth of her message was lost in the ensuing chaos, to tendrils of molten earth attempting to swallow anything in the path. Still, the Demons fought, descending upon the group, tearing them from Ni’s sight as walls of flame spat forth. The bars of a cage ensnaring her, trapping her alone with the Void once more. Ni smiled. If the end of the world was to occur, it was almost romantic fate would trap her with her reason to shine.

The Void floated there, hanging silently in the horror filled air. A torso emerging from a matted cluster of tangled dark matter, as if tearing through the fabric of reality itself to be by Ni’s side. The mechanic could only smile, recognising the determination. It was Yvette. The life she had carved for herself, her bare nails digging into the rock of the mountain. Blood and tears eroding her place in the world. Of course, the Void would reflect that beautiful stubbornness. The wilful woman that called fires, just as she called to Ni. Who commanded woman and flame alike to burn for her.

“Yvette. You told me that you needed all of my love. That happily ever after needed all of me. Your love for mine, a trade we’d make forever. That you were too Greedy to accept anything less.” Ni began, taking a tentative step across the sands towards the Void. The Void flickered, pulsing like the increased fluttering of a nervous heart, even as its face barely changed. A fanged maw closed; a lipless line carved across the bone of her face. Talons reached for Ni, extended as if they might catch her should she fall. Step after step drew Ni closer to the Void, barely resisting the gentle pull. The gravity of inevitability. She answered quietly, basking in the warmth of her love, which combatted the heat of the flames devouring the world around her. It was as the Lava demon said, Ni would not burn… Not for any save Yvette.

“But I’m greedy too. I was too greedy to let you go, to let you become an intangible memory I’d love until eternity became nothingness. I need you too, Yvette. I love you. From the beautiful and easy things to the jagged scars and everything you think is too messy. You’re my reason to shine, the reason I burn with every breath I take. The reason no demon can burn me. Not Vuz. Not the Lava Demon. Not this hell on Earth. The only one who can burn me is you, and I want you to. I want to burn for you, only you, until this world turns to dust. Until the concept of existence is forgotten, and beyond. I’m yours.” Ni’s breath hitched as the Void’s claws circled her waist, holding her as if the wind might blow her away like a crumbling paragon of ash.

“I want everything… and to have that,” She whispered, tenderly reaching up to the Void’s cheeks. Her thumbs gently ran across the ridges of the Void’s cheeks, the exoskeleton to her galaxy held gleaming within such a delicate cage. She knew, in the back of her mind, that this being had withstood everything they could throw at it, that it was near indestructible. So far from the definition of delicate. Yet, beneath her hands, the Void melted, leaning its cool forehead into Ni’s sweaty one. Calm washed over Ni as her eyes drifted closed. This was Yvette. Ni loved this woman in her entirety, how could she not adore this Void? Love warmed her, burning brightly in her chest, gently expanding through her limbs, filling her with the sense of tingling. The tender delight that had every hair standing on end, each reaching for the Void. For Yvette. Ni shuddered, relishing the feeling of the Void moving against her face, tendrils of dark energy licking across her skin like phantom kisses. Just as when Yvette bumped their noses together, or when she scattered loving kisses across Ni’s face. Ni quietly hungered for more, pressing her face to the living stone with a soft coo, a little noise answered by a deep grumble from the Void. One chance. She had one chance to say this, to try to… she didn’t even know, only that she was going supernova in The Void’s grasp, glowing brighter and brighter, until the gleam of her light that was the Void’s eyes were no longer definable. Only the mask of black.

“I need you to be whole.” She concluded, finally daring to close the distance between her lips and the Void’s. If this was her one chance to reclaim Yvette in her entirety, she was going to take it. She would shine until the world became her shadow if only to illuminate the way for Yvette’s soul to heal, for the fragments to finally mend together. Like a fairy-tale, she kissed what everyone considered a monster. She poured her soul into the Void’s waiting darkness, using her body to fill the abyss even as the magic curled around her, as it soaked up every ounce of her light, feasting upon the energy Ni offered so freely. Feeding. Absorbing. Reflecting. Returning. A prism burning in the palm of destiny, reflecting radiance across the battlefield. A glowing ember, a spark erupting into a storm that devoured and rejuvenated simultaneously, a feedback loop neither dared interrupt. One by one the demons fell, consumed like grass in a wildfire by Ni’s light. Their death sands coated the ground, crawling through the molten crevices splitting across the face of the Earth. Beneath Ni’s lips, stone softened, eroding like water as the warmth and fire finally embraced the darkness. Just as the darkness needed light to swallow, the light needed darkness to shine.

She burned. Finally, Ni burned. Fire blistered across her flesh, devouring her in a thousand memories. The whisper of sheets between them. The subtle scratch of lace gloves across her hip, cupping her cheeks ever so sweetly. The bite of the diamond across her chest, beneath her palms as Yvette so willingly delivered her sweet gifts. The softness of hair against her nose as she burrowed into Yvette’s neck. The gentleness of their palms connecting as Ni finally touched the untouchable woman for the first time. Everything spiralling and blazing from a single moment. A single spilt coffee upon an alter to Ni’s destiny. Her path to forever. How cliché, that it would be a moment of spilt coffee that would decide the fate of the world.

“My Lodestar.”

That was what Yvette always called her. Her compass. Her guiding light. Like a star, Ni fell towards the ground, falling from the skies. Entwined with her lover’s void, her light spluttered, littered with flames the colour of sapphires. The girl shone, resplendent as she finally settled to earth, into the arms of destiny. Like a shadow, the Void whispered across Ni’s skin, a brief echo of what was. A shadow of what was to be. The shadow cast from Yvette’s extended arms swallowed what remained a half blink before she pulled her mechanic into her embrace, holding her burning star to her heart. The sapphire flames spread, dancing across the veins of darkness creeping along their skin, a fine netting to the angelic gleam of Ni’s skin. For the flames of Yvette, Ni’s light only became more determined, braided together by the lingering darkness of the Void. Formless, only the shadow of fangs behind Yvette’s parted lips betrayed that such a creature had ever existed. The way the blues seemed to flicker into the whites of her eyes, swallowing the light with darkness, even as Ni’s eyes finally opened, meeting the void burning within Yvette’s.

“Yvette.” She whispered, voice cracking as she raised her hands to Yvette’s blue locks. Before her fingers even met the strands, they reached for her, whispering upon the memory of a breeze. Flames reaching for the only oxygen. If that evolution surprised her, Ni never let it show, instead pulling herself to Yvette, nose to nose. A laugh. A tender bump. Relief. For a single breath, everything was calm, perfect. The taste of the Void lingered on her tongue, smoke escaping her parted lips to tease across Yvette’s. The Assassin gasped, the darkness dripping from her maw, dissipating in the air between them. Questionably, a trick of the light, something for them to address another day. The following rumble of another quake was another matter.

“You might want to fix that.” Ni commented playfully. Greed groaned; sharpened teeth bared in frustration as she extended a hand towards the roaring flames.

“Stop.” She commanded. The husk of a monster’s growl teased her voice, sending a shiver down Ni’s spine. The world froze at Yvette’s command, the lava leaving scars of black across the sands, as cold as if they’d existed a thousand years prior. The breeze teased the sands, an eraser helping to conceal the dark scars the longer Yvette willed they should not be seen. Fires ceased to burn, all rushing to Yvette’s palm like faithful pets seeking their master’s affections. They danced down Yvette’s arm, curling like tails around Ni’s body, pulling her harmlessly closer to Yvette’s side. The mechanic could only laugh, curling into her Lover’s body. She waited patiently, content to let Yvette take her time to contain the chaos. For the flames to slowly go cold against their flesh, only to lend their heat to the desire in Yvette’s devouring gaze, her eyes every inch as destructive to Ni’s sanity as the Void was to the world. The fires may no longer be fit to consume the world, but that did not mean they were stilled. In Yvette, they burned. In the dark veins riddled across her limbs, in now white less eyes, on heated breath escaping from behind darkened fangs as she whispered.

“Home. Now.”

Ni shivered. If she was to be the world Yvette consumed, then she was all too okay with that.

aftermath (part I)

Set after a reason to stay.

***

Shortly after, when Yavin base had to be evacuated, Han somehow ended up with the task of bringing the princess to Kowak, the Alliance´s new rendezvous point. Why High Command trusted him with her, he had no idea. It wasn´t as if he would do anything to her – for once, he wasn´t that kind of man and second, even if he was, she probably would be able to defend herself just fine even in her injured state. He would have thought though that they´d allocate some nicer quarters to a princess.

That should have been the first clue that maybe his perception of princesses wasn´t close to reality. No, actually, it should have been the third clue after the way she had rescued herself and hid her injuries all through the battle of Yavin. As it was, he just shrugged it all off, telling himself that not even a princess could be picky in the face of the Alliance´s lifestyle and scarce resources.

Therefore, he was completely surprised when he finally realized that during their trip, Her Worship had taken it upon herself to quietly ‘fix’ things on the Falcon that hadn´t even been all that broken and ‘optimize’ things that in his opinion, thank you, had worked just fine before.

It took three days and Chewie pointing it out for him to realize that somehow a full inventory of the Falcon´s supplies had appeared out of thin air, the dishes were cleaner than they´d ever been, and there was absolutely nothing lying around untidily on any surface. When he finally caught on what must have been happening during his shifts in the cockpit for the last three days, he felt anger rise in his chest. Who did she think she was to mess with his ship?

Chewie roared something to stop him, but he was already out of the door of the cockpit to give Leia a piece of his mind. He found her in the lounge, bend over the Darjik table doing force-knows-what. “What do you think you´re doing?” he demanded.

She didn´t even look up while replying, “There´s a stain.”

“Oh, I´m sorry my humble ship is not enough for your privileged tastes.”

“That´s not what I meant, and you know it.” Why was her voice so calm? And why was she still not looking at him?

‘Stop messing with my ship,’ was what he meant to say. What came out was, “Stop that right now. You´re still injured.” And where had that last part come from?

At that reply, she finally looked up. With her jaw set and brows furled, she looked the definition of stubborn. “I´m fine,” she gritted, and it was the first time she sounded like a petulant princess.

“You´re not. I know what the Empire does to its prisoners.”

Her stance softened. “Which end of the cell door were you?”

“Outside,” he admitted. “I was at the Academy … ´til I figured out that torture and genocide weren´t exactly my kind of fun.”

She nodded. “You´re a lot better than you try making people believe.”

“Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but I´m not good. I´m not here for your pesky, little Rebellion.” He wasn´t, he really wasn´t. In fact, he didn´t know why he was still here … okay, that wasn´t true either. He was still here because of her and the kid, and it was ridiculous. He barely knew them! But somehow Leia´s fire and Luke´s fundamental goodness had drawn him in. He needed to free himself, as soon as possible. He´d have to wait until they reached the rendezvous point though. There, he´d make sure they were safe and then he´d leave.

“You´re doing it again,” she interrupted his thoughts.

“If that´s what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

“I requested the Falcon as my transport, you know.”

That took him by surprise. Again. She really needed to stop doing that. “Why?” he asked.

She just shrugged non-committedly and resumed scrubbing the table.

“Stop that,” he repeated. “It´s already clean.”

The princess, Leia, froze for a moment. “The bench isn´t,” she finally said and turned her attention there. Han watched as she put soap on the cloth in her hand and started scrubbing at a stain that might or might have been there.

Watching her work was fascinating. Her hands were soft. Just one look at them was enough to know that she hadn´t done much manual labour ever in her life. In stark contrast to that, her movements were steady and brimmed with efficiency. They betrayed the accuracy of someone who had learned how to move not gracefully but appropriately. They were the movements of a diplomat. Han wouldn’t be surprised if she had actually calculated the exact speed that she needed to move at to give the illusion of the golden mean between urgency and idleness.

She blended in with what seemed to be perfect ease, and still, everything about her screamed absolute control to Han. Leia Organa was a paradox. Strong but vulnerable. Seemingly invincible but oh so hurt inside. The embodiment of compassion and goodness, but at the same time her fury over Alderaan´s fate burned hotter than a supernova just underneath her skin. She was prickly, difficult and overall insufferable, but nonetheless, people gravitated to her.

After some minutes, it became clear to Han, that she wasn´t going to stop her needless task, until he had left. A part of him wanted to just do so, to leave her and the sadness that clung to her like a second skin behind, to vanish to the cockpit and plan his and Chewie´s next destination after dropping her off with the Alliance. The rest of him though – a far bigger part – couldn´t bring himself to do it. If he didn´t check on her, who would? She didn´t understand Shyriiwook, Luke wasn´t here and as far as he knew, everyone she had been close to had been killed together with Alderaan. Han was many things. Heartless wasn´t one of them. He couldn´t just leave her here alone. She was Leia.

He battered his brain for something meaningful to say, but came up blank, so he fell back on what he knew. “If you keep on doing that, you´ll scrub a hole into my bench.”

She stopped. “I suppose it is clean now.”

“Definitely cleaner than ever before.”

“That´s not hard, is it?” The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, as she finally turned to face him.

“This is a smuggler´s ship and not the royal fleet, Your Worship.”

A frown crossed her face. “Don´t call me that.”

“Don´t worry,” he retorted. “I´ve got many more. How about ‘Your Highnessness’, princess?”

“Don´t.” Her voice turned icy. “I´m not. Not anymore.”

She looked away and he wanted to kick himself. So much for not being heartless. “I´m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Leia.”

It was the first time her actual name had crossed his lips. She seemed to realize it, too, because she faced him again and the anger was replaced by something else that he couldn´t place. They looked at each other for one sheer endless moment, studying each other. When the silence started to become awkward, Han desperately searched for something to busy himself with. In the end, it was her who ended it by putting away the cloth and the soap where she had taken it from.

“Where are we at the moment?”, she asked.

“Near Kashyyk. It will probably be around six more days, before we make it to Kowak.”

“Kashyyk.” She seemed to be lost in thought for some moments before a dangerous glint entered her eyes. “That´s the Mid Rim, isn´t it?”

“Yes,” Han answered warily.

“So, we´re not too far from the Core … “

“Yes, we are damn far away from the Core and it´s gonna stay that way.”

“I need to go there.”

“Where?” he asked, even though he thought he knew the answer. Knew and dreaded it.

“Alderaan.”

Just like he had feared. “It´s gone,” he exclaimed forcefully. “There´s nothing left.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. I´ve seen it. You´re not going to find what you´re looking for.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “But I need to see it for myself.”

“No.” Han shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Leia raised her chin and shot him a determined look. “The Royal House of Alderaan had funds stored on Coruscant. It will take some time, but I can pay you.”

“You think this is about money?”

“You made it very clear that that´s everything you care about.”

Stung, Han took a step back. She wasn´t entirely wrong: He had declared very loudly that money was the only reason why he had helped them … but surely his actions spoke louder than those words. He had returned for the kid – without hoping for any reward. He had comforted her. And now she was throwing it back in his face. “You´re right,” he finally said angrily, “but the money won´t do me any good if I´m dead.”

“You escaped the Death Star, but you´re scared of a simple trip?”

“Simple trip? After our escape from the Death Star, the Imperials will be looking for the Falcon. Flying to the Core would be suicide.”

Her anger seemed to deflate as quickly as it had flared up and a defeated look crossed her face. “I need to go there,” she whispered. “Please.”

Han was still hurt, but Leia´s sad eyes bored holes into his resolve. After Yavin, the Imperials probably had bigger concerns than catching one single freighter … and after all, he wasn´t exactly keen on getting back to the Rebellion. Kriff, he was going to regret it. Still. He sighed. “We can´t stay long and at the first sign of Imperial presence, we´ll leave.”

“Thank you,” she said gravely.

Han acknowledged her thanks with a curt nod. ���You better get a hold on those funds of yours soon,” he said bitterly.

“I will.” Was that disappointment in her voice? And why did that hurt even more than her earlier words?

Han decidedly did not think about that as he made his way back to the cockpit to change their course to Alderaan. Chewie noticed his gloomy mood and tried to get him to talk about it, but Han rebuked all of his efforts.

The next day was spent in stony silence. Leia seemed to sense his mood and kept away from him. Without Han to talk to, she and Chewie turned to each other instead. What ensued was a series of conversations that consisted of Leia completely misinterpreting Shyriiwook and a lot of pantomime. Unfortunately, conventions for the meaning of certain gestures were different on each planet, so that they didn´t particularly make their endeavour easier. The result would have been hilarious if Han hadn´t been so angry and hurt. In his current mood, it was only annoying. Why did Chewie get along with the princess?

***

You can now find part II here.

One Piece Chapter 1011 - Initial Thoughts

Man the breaks feel longer and longer don't they

But after a monster of a chapter 2 weeks ago we are back for some more One Piece goodness

less waiting, more reading!

Spoilers for Chapter 1011 of course, Support the Official Release

A Color Page for this one, Giant Nami - it's a wonder how Sanji is alive right now - and everyone else enjoying sweets, no hidden stuff here I don't think

I was right! She replaced Zeus, introducing Hera...odd name choice really given how Hera doesn't control lightning and is the aggrieved wife/sister of Zeus

But that's still some power, and Kid's injured enough or out of range so now Zeus is free

Law dips with Zoro and Zeus, though he seems unaware of Hera even though lightning makes a hell of a noise, but now we have a bit of a chase to play

Careful Kaido your respect is showing, he's salivating this fight too

It's not the Clash of Kings but damn is it good to look at

Basil Nooooooo! I really wanted you to go back to your fellow supernova

Though he is just following percentages right now :/ still though, he can be so much more if allowed to be an ally

Looks like the stage is set for Hawkins vs Killer, he's in his straw demon form though which as I recall was a bit of a weakness as well as a strength, creepy legs though

92% damn so he's not the 'certain someone' from before, and with 120 beri over Killer it's not gonna be an easy fight

And now back to Tama, Nami and Usopp to poke away at hybrid Pay Pay on Komachiyo

Those are a lot of vital points yes, Nami

Poor doggo is getting tired though, the Live Stage is the destination she wants though so she can control everyone

Usopp Uncles can be younger so long as you have a much older sibling with a kid

But seeing Tama scared does prove to be a motivator for Usopp, laying him with some close range snipe shots

'How do you like them apples?' - well that is a power pose, even if it didn't finish him

Oda making it clear that the dangos won't work on Zoans, so no pet Kaido for Tama

WHOA OKAY BIG MOM IS THERE

But she remembers precious child Tama!

Prometheus stop grimacing, Tama is a bundle of joy you're not allowed to be mean to her by default

Wait they burned it all down!? But what about Tsuru! You can't just off-screen her like that she's Kin'emon's wife!

I hope the official is also 'to be executed' at least then there's a time opening

Okay, here's the anger switch

Big Mom's Standards save the day, and wreck Pay-Pay with a Conqueror's Armament hit - that'll do nicely

The impact has clocked Kid and Zeus to where Big Mom is though, could be bad

Ulti...I feel bad but also he's the enemy, but also Big Mom is the enemy, everyone is the enemy but I have so much conflicted feelings!

But then another break D: Oda please man!

Well, we hoped Big Mom may help the alliance through Tama and damn did we get it. Big Mom has always had a subjective moral compass and the kindness given to her by Okobore town looks to pay dividends. How she will react to Nami and Usopp is a up in the air, as will it be if Kid finds Big Mom and wants to kill her, it's all getting messy allegiance-wise, if she gets Perospero to help then there's conflict with Carrot and Marco to juggle too.

As I said I'm a little let down Hawkins didn't switch sides, but the odds still seem to favour Kaido it seems, I wonder if BM will be the turning point. I still hope so but wanting to kill Killer isn't a good look.

Hopefully now we'll resume the inner-floors fights, still need to see Robin and Brook vs Maria, Jimbei vs Who's Who, Sanji's choice, Kid and Law's crew's attacks, Franky vs Sasaki, Inu vs Jack and what remains of Queen, King and Apoo's conflicts with Chopper, Marco and Drake. Not to mention the Momonosuke stuff and Kanjuro, wherever Caribou is and whether Hiyori is here to take down Orochi.

But, another wait. I still feel bad for Ulti because I still enjoy their dynamic, and it's gonna be tough to see what she'll do considering that she cannot take Big Mom, overall we've thrown a spanner in the works and now we have to simmer again...

PPG One-Shot: Blowing Off Steam (Brick/Blossom)

@carriedreamerx and @kiebs have been hard at work these last couple of days drawing some really pretty art over on IG for various of our collective fics (check out their IGs, the art is super gorgeous). Since I have the artistic skills of a rock, I thought I’d say thanks with some Reds fight-and-make-out fic! This is an excerpt from an upcoming multi-chapter fic that will feature the Punks along with the Girls and the Boys. Gist of it is they’ve all been warped to a different planet and are stuck in a weird, possibly haunted house as they try to find a way out of it with punches and problem solving and *gasp* teamwork. They’re all in their late 20s in this. In this excerpt, Brick and Blossom blow off a little steam and Berserk takes all the credit.

(Unbeta’d and subject to change when I get around to posting the actual multi-chapter fic itself.)

xxx

Blossom had never felt more discomfited by Berserk’s absence than her presence, but she felt it now across the table from Brick with no one else around to draw her wandering eye, or his. He shifted his weight in his chair. She stretched her neck. He took a sip of water. She cleared her throat.

After ten minutes of this, he slammed his book shut. “What is happening?”

Blossom fixed her gaze firmly on her book and the passage she’d re-read at least four times now without absorbing any of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s taken you twenty minutes to read two pages.”

The knee-jerk urge to refute him tugged at her like a dog begging for table scraps, but she ignored it. He wasn’t wrong. “I guess I’m finding it hard to concentrate today.”

They watched each other across the long table, and it struck her just how red his eyes were even from afar: two burning pits fixed entirely on her. Unsettling, yet strangely warm. She thought about retiring early, but she wasn’t tired. In fact, she was having some trouble sitting still in her chair. Maybe a walk outside would do her good, or even a run. Maybe Buttercup was free and up for a spar. Just anything to get her body moving and her brain blanking before her thoughts burned a hole through her skull and exposed everything to him.

“Let’s go a round,” Brick said. The sound of his chair sliding over the tile screamed in the cavernous, quiet library.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m trying to crawl out of my own skin.” He flexed a fist, and red sparks spiderwebbed along his knuckles to the wrist eager for something to burn.

Blossom’s mouth went dry at the manifest threat of his power calling to her like old ghosts. She could retreat, provide some excuse, it had worked before. But no excuse came to her now, and under the table, her fingers curled around a mass of pastel power itching for a summoning. She rose from  her chair, books forgotten, and headed for the door. “We can’t have that,” she said.

He fell into step after her not a moment later and followed her down the hall and up the second floor balcony to the first challenge room. The house was quiet and empty tonight, its vaulted ceilings cold and distant. It was as though they were the only two people awake in this uncanny place.

It took everything Blossom had not to stop and wait for him to catch up. His eyes at her back gave off a singular heat, homing and hyper-focused. Perhaps years ago, she would have never entertained the thought of turning her back on someone so dangerous. Now, the thought of what she might invite if she faced him kept her squarely focused on her destination ahead.

“Ladies first,” Brick said directly behind her when they reached the challenge room. He grabbed the edge of the door and held it open for her.

Blossom looked anywhere but back at him and stepped over the threshold. The change of pressure entering the pocket dimension made her ears pop and the access band on her wrist heat with power. As before, the walls on all sides moved as concrete structures grew and shifted, sky scrapers blooming like flowers and withering to dust, only to sprout again elsewhere. Brick followed and closed the door behind them. Already disoriented, Blossom began to float as she adjusted to the altered gravity and tried to abandon the idea of up versus down.

“Restrictions?” Brick asked. He shed his red jacket, leaving him only in his matching pants and a form-fitting tank top.

Blossom very maturely averted her gaze lest he assume she was ogling him, of all the ludicrous notions. Steeling herself, she unzipped her own red jacket and tossed it aside to join his. “Since when can you afford to restrain yourself against me?”

His laughter, light and low, shivered her to the bone. “All right, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He was on her in a flash with a hard punch. Blossom blocked at the last second, but the force sent her crashing into concrete. She barely had time to cough when he came at her again with another punch aimed at her face, but this time she dodged in the nick of time and it was his turn to eat rubble.

Adrenaline and Chemical X made for a heady, explosive cocktail in her veins that spread from her fingertips to the very ends of her long ponytail. Incandescent, pink power jumped over her bare arms as she poised to receive him again.

“Come on,” she said.

Brick glowed red, and it was her only warning before he rocketed after her. Blossom took off deeper into the maze of ever changing obstacles, the exertion only fueling her faster along in a familiar chase they had not run in years.

The pocket dimension was a death trap. Blossom darted over and under spikes and spires closing around her like jaws, her movements precise and fluid. But Brick was just as adept and wasted little energy swerving around the masticating mandible they had chosen for this evening’s playground.

Blossom swung around and under a sprouting obelisk, trusting her body to move exactly according to her will, but Brick abruptly changed course and met her mid-spin. Anticipating his sneak attack, Blossom let him have it with a wicked kick in the ribs.

Unfortunately, he was damn fast and grabbed her by the ankle just as her kick connected, and they both went flying with the force of her attack. A receding column broke Blossom’s fall with a rude crunch, and she broke Brick’s. Rose met red through a cloud of dust and electric Chemical X.

“Caught you,” he said.

Maybe it was the rush of the moment that drove her, the old thrill of the hunt from their heyday, never acknowledged but deeply felt. She felt him now, palms searing around her knee and pinning her neck, and she reached back.

Too close to avoid her open palm on his chest, Brick took her ice at point-blank range and blasted away in a flurry of snowflakes. He nearly hit a stone pillar punching out of the undulating wall, but managed to flip out of its path at the last second.

Blossom floated higher, her arms sleeved in ice and her breath misty. The temperature plummeted further as her power rippled through the pocket dimension. “Not quite,” she said in a voice that crept in between the shifting sky scrapers like hoarfrost.

Across from her, Brick’s power sluiced off him as thick as magma. He was a bright, burning star in this grey world, and god she could feel him pushing back and fighting for ground as if he were right in front of her. The chemically saturated air shimmered around him and ignited the blood in his eyes as they met hers. “Come here.”

It was all the encouragement she needed to give in to the timeless spark between them and unleash. Frost met fire as they collided, broke, and collided again. His punches smoldered, but her ice tempered them to cleansing smoke. And when she caught him in a freezing hold, he inevitably slipped through behind a veil of steam. Each unable to smother the other, they were evenly matched and forever at odds as they ricocheted off stone towers and toppled thrusting obelisks in their bid for dominance.

And that was what this was, what it had always been. Blossom had never felt the need to control and dominate another like she felt it fighting Brick. Call it fate, or design, or maybe it was just him, but there was nothing like this release, this honest surrender to the creature she was and always would be, made magnificent in the eyes of a true equal.

“I’m right here!” she taunted, with snowflakes in her hair.

Brick landed on a cracked block. The cement began to melt under the heat of his power where he crouched and captured her in those pyre-bright eyes. “Is that an invitation?” he shot back. “Or a threat?”

Alive with the thrill of unfettered competition, Blossom grinned. “Let’s find out.”

She took off at a punishing pace, half flying around the cement blocks and half skating over their frozen faces. Brick was right on her tail, his steps scorching the swaths of ice she left in her wake to cataclysmic ends. Wherever the two Supers’ extremities came into direct contact, the concrete collapsed and exploded like a parade of supernovas.

He was close, she could feel it, but he wouldn’t catch her, no way. Blossom was the best at what she did, and no one knew that better than her counterpart. But he was fast closing the distance between them, and when she chanced a glance back, there he was haloed in haze, his fire rising like great, golden chains, and he reached for her.

Blossom gasped, and it was her mistake. Brick caught her waist and pulled her back hard. The blizzard in her lungs went up in steam between his fingers clamped over her mouth. They hurtled together head over heels with Blossom kicking and jabbing with her elbows. But Brick locked her arms to her sides and anchored her to his chest until they came to a stop and she could hardly move. Pink power crackled on her skin as she thrashed in his arms, but he only laughed.

“That tickles,” he murmured.

Blossom immediately ceased her struggling. Immured in his arms with no chance of escaping unless he let her go, she became acutely aware of just how close they were. His breath was warm in her hair, and he smelled like smoke and parchment. He hadn’t loosened his hold around her at all.

“Brick,” she said, sotto voce.

He laughed again, low and husky. “Yield.”

The very word inspired an electric disdain in her. “No.”

He pressed his nose to her hair, and when he spoke his lips brushed against the side of her neck. “Are you sure?”

Blossom turned her head to look him in the eye and held on to her nerve out of sheer force of will. “Are you?”

This close, she could count his freckles and taste the heat he radiated, but there was no reading him beyond his singular and absolute focus on her.

He loosened his grip around her and pulled away. “No,” he said.

Blossom caught him before he could move away. Thoughtless perhaps, but Blossom never stopped thinking, not about their entrapment here, not about finding a way out, and not about him since the day they arrived in this strange place. She barely tugged at his shirt before he was on her again, arms around her waist and kissing her hard. Her fingers sparked with power as she threaded them through his short hair, making him groan, and he suddenly shoved them against the freezing, concrete wall until it cracked. His kiss was volcanic, as relentless as he was, and Blossom pulled him deeper with a smile.

The wall lurched at her back, and as quickly as it had begun, Brick ended the kiss and pushed her out of the way of a wicked spike just as it erupted from the enchanted wall. Blossom landed deftly on a nearby block and watched him do the same. Breathing hard, she wiped the traces of the best kiss of her life from her lips.

“Best two out of three,” he called to her.

Unable to resist, she smirked. “Restrictions?”

“You couldn’t restrain yourself against me if you tried.”

A retort sat poised on the tip of her tongue, but it still remembered his kiss and refused to cooperate.

“Blossom,” he said in a commanding tone that wanted answering.

Blossom’s power burst around her, radioactive, and she launched herself skyward. “Try and keep up.”

They spent the next two hours raining tempestuous ruin, on the pocket dimension and on each other.

xxx

Berserk took one look at Brick and Blossom when they returned to the Red Wing later that evening in their soot- and sleet-stained clothes, set her book down, and drained the rest of her bourbon. “Oh god.”

Brick rolled his eyes headed for his room. “There better be some of that left when I get out of the shower.”

Berserk flipped him the bird, which he returned behind his back before slamming the door.

Blossom hovered like a deer caught in the headlights until Berserk took pity on her and poured a fresh glass. “Here. You look like you need this more than I do.”

Blossom snapped out of it and took the offered bourbon automatically. “What?”

Jesus Christ.

You try to be nice for once, and nobody fucking appreciates it. Typical.

“Whatever.” Berserk went back to her book and her own glass of bourbon, which she topped off with the rest of the bottle so there would be none left for Brick.

Blossom didn’t fuck off to her own room like she ought to have, but instead sat down on the red sofa across from Berserk. She was smiling like a creep. Before Berserk could ask her if she needed medical assistance with whatever the hell was going on, Blossom said, “Cheers.”

Magenta eyes narrowed over the top of her book as Berserk studied her counterpart for any hint of a scheme. When she found none, she cautiously clinked her overfull glass to Blossom’s and drank.

They sat there in silence for a while. The sound of Brick’s shower was a low din behind his closed door as Berserk slowly flipped the pages of her book, some boring shit about this planet’s agricultural practices. Blossom had picked up a book of her own and curled up, her legs tucked under her in a perfect mirror to Berserk. Every once in a while Berserk would steal a glance at her counterpart and find her quiet and content with her book and bourbon. Peaceful was not quite the right word for this weirdly tranquil ambience, and Blossom for sure needed a shower. But, well…

Well.

“Thank you.”

It was so softly spoken, that had they not been reading in complete silence, Berserk may not have heard her speak. Blossom didn’t look up to acknowledge her sitting there, or even to check that Berserk had heard her.

Berserk curled a lock of her frizzy, red hair around her finger and buried her nose in her book. “Whatever.”

Blossom hid a smile behind her book and finished her drink.

xxx

Thanks for reading! <3

Okay so this is not in fact part one, but a part of part one. Figured I’d post here to just to see if there’s any interest!

THE NEW NINTH DOCTOR ADVENTURES

EPISODE 1

WORKING TITLE: The Doctor and the Sentriton

The dark had overtaken everything, there at the End; everything, from the stars to the planets to the great nebulae, was gone. Snuffed out by the unstoppable creeping of entropy. However, one thing still remained. A brilliantly blue box, spinning serenely through the Lack Thereof. It was an old police box, and the sight was odd to see in the year one hundred nonillion for a whole host of reasons. The rightmost door was open, offering a peek into the impossible interior of the box. At the door stood a silhouette, only barely lit by a dim bluish light emanating deep from within the box. The shadow stood for a very long time, examining the forever nothingness. The box drifted along. The man suddenly shook his head, ever so slightly, turning on his heel; a dark skinned hand slammed the door shut. Ancient engines activated, filling the nothing with sound for a moment, before The Lack was back to its original state as the box faded from view.

Within the TARDIS, the Doctor slammed a lever down, and remained in place, leaning over the

Victorian style console. He let out a sigh, and looked up at the time rotor. Still silent, was the Doctor. He found himself in moods like this a lot lately; stormy silences and introspective glares. Even the console room seemed suited to his mood; darkly lit, the time rotor going up, up, up, up, up into the air, up into the darkness, who knows how long until it hit the ceiling. The room itself was circular, with a spiral staircase winding up along the walls, keeping pace with the rotor. The Doctor supposed he could go for a jog up those stairs, but he’d just end up distracted by one of the many rooms anyway.

“Gloomy!” He shouted suddenly, startling himself- that had been the word he was looking for. That’s what the issue was! A gloomy old Doctor in a gloomy old TARDIS. While he did appreciate the scale of the console room, it was just a little bit... somber. He set to distracting himself, coaxing other panels out from the console, whispering commands, ignoring the why of his gloomy state, as was his speciality. On the outside, the chaotic vortex lashed out at the foreign presence of the box, attempting to eradicate the germ from the stream; but the TARDISes shields and plasmic shell held steady. The Doctor hadn’t set a specific destination, he just trusted the old timeship to take him where he was most needed, as was his wont.

Minutes or hours later (when he was distracting himself, it was hard to tell the passage of time), the Doctor felt satisfied with his work- a bright light shone down from that impossibly high ceiling, not brightening the console room massively, but adding a bit more life. The floor, as opposed to a solid metal, was now grated with round holes; underneath, a light lazily faded in and out. Satisfied with his work, the Doctor looked at the screen attached to the console, biting his lip in thought. He flipped a few switches, and-

The TARDIS landed.

A few diagnostic checks, examining what he could of his surroundings, before he grabbed his blue velvet frock coat and walked out the doors. As soon as his foot found ground, the alarm system activated.

The Delirium Archive was renowned for most of the lifespan of the universe for its thoroughness in collecting relics from across the universe. Some notable inclusions were a pair of spectacles that witnessed the anchoring of the thread, the image of a bright light and humanoid shadows imprinted onto its ancient lenses; a fossil of a great vampire, held under complete chronal stasis for safety reasons; a modified Mondasian cybermat, which some said was an etheric beam locator; and, most distressingly for the Doctor, there was a section dedicated entirely to the War of Many Names. Some species called it the War In Heaven; others, the Time War; the Galosenby of Prolten 5 called it the Deepfall. The crown jewel of the collection... well, that didn’t even bear thinking about. Due to its housing of these and many million more incredible artifacts, the Delirium Archive contained one of the most advanced security systems ever seen, and certainly the most advanced there in the year ten nonillion. The universe was small now- a museum was popular those days. The security system was a deeply guarded secret, which is precisely what the Doctor found out, as he had no real clue what was going on.

He was completely anchored to the ground, unable to move, his muscles in complete lock. His biological processes were still working, thankfully, both hearts beating, though they were beating more rapidly in the moment. He attempted to move his arm upwards, but the muscle barely even twitched. He was as good as a statue. Belatedly, his eye caught sight of a glinting Metebelis cystal in a display case nearby. Wholly traumatizing memories came back to him, and he developed the most intense desire to make a rude gesture at the impassive crystal. A small grunt escaped, as he attempted mightily to move. Nothing happened.

Footsteps echoed down the hall; clacking on the polished metal, a gold and white ironmarble, drawing ever closer. The Doctor’s every effort was set towards movement, but his paralysis was total. Unlikely to find escape, he ceased his struggle, and silently hoped that he hadn’t landed in the Archive during an ultra-dangerous heist. A flashlight activated, blasting bright light into his face from a distance, and he really wished he could squint his eyes just a bit.

“You! You are trespassing with level nine hundred ninety nine contraband. As in, it should not exist. You have been frozen in place, and I will be confiscating said contraband.”

The light dimmed slightly as the voice grew closer, revealing a young humanoid woman of about one hundred years old. She wore the green and purple uniform of a Delirium Security Sentriton, which insulted the Doctor’s sense of style completely and utterly. If he could shudder, he surely would. The Sentriton passed by his frozen body, examine the supposed contraband.

“Of course, if this is what I think it is...” she muttered to herself, “I’m not one hundred percent sure how to move it. Oi!” She rounded back in front of the Doctor, holding the lightemitter in a far more threatening manner than before. “This is a TARDIS, isn’t it?” Despite the fact she held the lightemitter in such a intimidating way, her voice had taken on a tone of wonder. She sighed. “It can’t be, though- they’re all gone. So this is some sort of bootleg, yeah? Clever.” She lowered the flashlight, rubbing her chin in thought. “Clever way to do a heist, certainly. TARDISes would certainly be an excellent way into a museum filled with priceless artifacts.”

The Doctor, still quite immobile, was able to see her nametag. Nel. Delirium Security Sentriton Nel, in the year ten nonillion. Unbelieving in the presence of the final TARDIS in history, as if any race could possibly build something like a Gallifreyan Timeship.

Okay, it’s entirely possible.

But the details! The harmonic hum of the console room, a melody the Doctor had, once upon a time, been able to fall asleep to. The precise construction of the rotor, its glass sugarspun from supernova obsidius. The internals of the rotor, pushing up against the future and down against the past, a fine filigree of microcircuitry crawling all along both the rotor and the console. That’s the sort of detailwork the Time Lords had perfected. The Doctor took note of his use of the word had, and suddenly his immobility became infinitely more maddening. The Doctor brought his mind back to Nel, who was now pacing frantically and spinning an imaginary web of deceit, all surrounding this intrusion.

“...naturally, that kind of engineering is just unheard of... only just now did they stop vortex manipulators from giving Empirus Agents time hangovers... so if this a TARDIS clone, which it IS, it means it’s from the future... which means YOU,” she pointed an accusing finger at the Doctor, before resuming her back-and-forth pace, “were smart enough to chose a day there was only one Sentriton, and a new one at that! Twenty years I’ve had here, and you choose THIS NIGHT? I am most assuredly going to lose my employment!” She had paused, hand tangling in her umber hair. “Wait, no. I’m being irrational in the face of excitement. You have not and will not steal anything, due to the security system. Right!” She rounded on the Doctor, her lightemitter now held up, somehow more threateningly than before. “It’s time to fess up, thief! I am going to unfreeze your speaking faculties. Oh, er, your face, too, it would be weird if you couldn’t emote...”

As if he was lowering face first into an icebath, the Doctor felt the muscles in his face, mouth, and neck come to life.

“Blimey!”

It wasn’t exactly dignified, those first words to Nel, but it was just really very strange to have a mobile face with an immobile rest-of-body. Nel raised an eyebrow, lightemitter still raised.

“Right, that is a TARDIS, firstly!” The Doctor exclaimed, and Nel scoffed. “Really! I’m not even sure how you’d know those existed!” Nel pulled a face, and the non-weapon-arm flailed wildly about, indicating the museum setting.

“Point.” The Doctor grumbled. “But still! Dammit.” The Doctor frowned mightily, so mightily in fact that it caused Nel’s eyebrows to rise in surprise. “I am a Time Lord, a high born Gallifreyan! I am the last of my people, the lone survivor of the War in Heaven, and I have traveled from the beginning of the universe to the End! I have seen sights your eyes would not believe! I watched Skaro burn to dust, and I saw that dust burn further and brighter! I witnessed the Great Unburdening, watched as enormous beasts sucked the life force out of entire galaxies! I have seen the Moment come to pass, every single second ticking and unticking until there was nothing but ME! And I! DEMAND! TO! BE! UNFROZEN!”

Nel’s eyebrows, much like the rest of the Doctor’s body, remained frozen.

“Fine speech!” She shouted. “In the interest of your comfort as my prisoner, I WILL unfreeze you-“ the Doctor sighed, yet snapped to attention when- “BUT! I will warn you. This lightemitter is, in fact, a stunbodilizer.” Here, the Doctor’s own eyebrows raised. Odd vocabulary, here in ten nonillion. “If you make any sudden movement, I promise you will wake up the next second in a jail cell!”

The Doctor’s whole body felt chilly for a second, and then he resumed the ability to move. He gave a great big sigh, bowing over slightly.

“Thank you. That was utterly unpleasant.”

“As it should be, for thieves of your ilk! What kind of a code name is DOCTOR!?” Nel shouted, and the Doctor flinched. The Sentriton was certainly... excitable.

“It’s a very long story- maybe one day I’ll get round to telling it... wait! I will NOT be conversational with you!”

“And why NOT?” Nel shouted, matching his energy. Well, his energy that he had matched to hers.

“My TARDIS brought me HERE- yes, TARDIS- for a reason. It is my job to find out why!”

“Any why, PRAY-TELL, is it your job?”

“Because I am the Doctor!”

Time slowed, in the Doctor’s mind. His penchant for theatrics got the better of him, and he made an odd sort of mysterious gesture with his hands as he reminded her of his name. In almost lockstep with his mysterious Doctor-y gesticulation, Nel brought the stunbodilizer down on the side of his head. The Doctor’s last thought was, wow, she has excellent reflexes for a human.

To be fair to Nel, his movement was quite sudden.

turn to hate

Character: Inquisitor! Cal Kestis

Pairings: none

Rating: pg-13

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, dark/heavy themes, description of self-hatred, emotional repression

a/n: listen idk what else to warn y’all it’s some blurbs about inquisitor!Cal’s experience with the darkside, falling deeper into the dark. His unhealthy reactions to unhealthy situations, it’s not a feel good fic its a Deep Thoughts and How Do Emotions Work fic. Character study for Calquisitor. It’s also my first fic here, so any thoughts or responses would be appreciated! Let me know if I need to add anything to the warnings

Title song: Turn to Hate - Orville Peck

MASTERLIST

He wondered how he ended up like this.

The fortress and Bracca were eerily the same. Scrapper or inquisitor, neither was better or worse. Why was he always tearing apart his past with his own hands?

Anger wasn’t very different from the fear that kept him motivated before. Both kept him moving when it felt like nothing was left, lit a fire in his core that kept him running. Anger was a comfort, and was better than the misery that would swallow him whole if he ever stopped to breathe. So he kept his head underwater, where what he had done was muffled, as he sank lower and lower.

Hatred was easy when he hated himself. Manic energy was better than the guilt and hopelessness that promised to tear him apart if he ever stopped. So he trained and trained, until the red of his lightsaber stopped reminding him of the blood on his hands. He cut down countless droids until he was cutting down troopers. He trained until the arena walls stopped blurring with the white of another practice arena (one from a ship that used to float above Bracca), and until he could use the force without it tearing him up inside and out. It burned, but he couldn’t stop. Even if his path promised nothing but his own destruction.

.

The Second Sister liked to gloat about her success in bringing him in and breaking him down. When she was particularly haughty, she would brag as such to him.

“Look at what you have become, pup. Look how far you’ve fallen since I dragged you down.”

She never treated it like a good thing, her breaking him down and keeping the pieces. At least she had the decency to never act like she raised him up, instead that she dragged him down with her to drown.

A real fallen angel.

“It took so long to teach you some obedience, but here you are. You became the very thing you once swore to destroy!”

Cal sneered and reached for his lightsaber, but she was quick to grab his arm.

“Ah. Not so fast, mutt.” Her fingers clamped a bruising grip as she tightened her hold. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you if you have nowhere else to go.”

Her yellow eyes bore into his, almost begging for a confrontation. Goading him to strike at her, and lose everything. Instead, he tore his arm out of her grasp, and bowed his head.

He couldn’t see it, but he was sure she was grinning.

“Good boy. You were once so persistent. I’m glad to have beaten that out of you, too.”

Shame brushed his limbs, swirled in the air. Maybe he’d have proven her wrong, not so long ago. Maybe, in another life, he would have left her abusive hands and turned against the Empire again. 

Maybe, in another life, he never joined the Empire at all. 

But this time, all he could do was turn his heel and walk away, rage burning in his chest until he could taste smoke on his tongue. It only burned hotter as he realized that this was exactly what she wanted.

Above water was who he once was but he had nowhere to go but down. As if rocks were tied to his ankles, he was sinking deeper, deeper, deeper. It was a real paradox, unable to stop burning as he drowned under the water. 

Unlike the fallen angels, he never had a choice.

.

Whenever Cal looked into a mirror, it always felt like his reflection was mocking him. Like he was an impostor in his own life, acting the role he was given until he had to believe it himself. He didn’t know who he really was, but his reflection always did.

He woke up restless, plagued by dreams that weren’t quite nightmares (memories, something inside him whispered, of a city that stretched across an entire planet and soft brown robes that kept him warm), and he went to his refresher. There, he cupped his hands and drank water from the faucet until he felt a little more real, and peered at his reflection.

Yellow eyes stared back and reminded him of who he was, what he had become. They always taunted him, mocking his failures, his falling. Failing his master, failing Prauf, Cere. All he ever did was fail those he cared about the most. Failed to protect them, and failed to live up to what they fought for. 

He stared into those yellow eyes, and for a split second he remembered blue ones instead.

Anger shot through him - from the feeling of longing he felt of who he once was, from the disgust of who he had become, he couldn’t tell - and glass shattered with the force of his palm. The counter table cracked under his grip. He didn’t realize what he’d done until his blood smeared across the marble. 

All you could ever do was destroy. How perfect you must fit in here.

The spark of anger was gone, extinguished by whatever emotion filled his lungs and tightened his throat. He couldn’t ignite his anger again when such misery put out the flames, so instead he hung his head and he cried.

.

Cal looked outside the viewport with little interest. In contrast to the deep blacks and dark reds that decorated the room, the explosion outside was ridiculously bright and colorful. Blinding white and yellow, with shocks of green and blue. 

Supernovae used to intrigue him as a youngling, his innocence and youth finding awe at the phenomena. Something that was destined in the force to happen, something so massive in such a large galaxy, and he was there to witness it. To see a single star collapse, and then explode outward into something much larger than it once was.

Now, however, he didn’t see much wonder. 

It was just another moment in a galaxy full of stars that would all explode eventually. Full of stars that explode every rotation. 

The door behind him slid open, but he didn’t have to turn around to see who had entered. The Second Sisters reflection was easily seen in the viewport reflection, and she took a moment to stand there before removing her helmet and moving beside him.

“Inspiring, isn’t it?” She seemed to ponder, and Cal tried not to scowl. “A star, celestial and larger than life, one that has burned bright for millennia. Long enough to see more than one empire rise and fall.”

She should watch her mouth. Such a statement could easily be taken as a sign of treason, of deflection.

“A star that probably provided life. A point of light in a sky of darkness.” Something unpleasant settled in Cal’s stomach, churning at her words. “Yet, as the force has willed it, it’s doom is inevitable. It burns only to burn itself out, and collapse when all fuel is gone.”

She grinned at his reflection, and he made a point to look away from hers and focus on the sight in front of him. He tried very hard to find interest in a certain tendril of gas, watching as it slowly changed shades of red as it dispersed into nothingness. It didn’t stop her from talking.

“And so it has one final, valiant show of life. Something that has lived a life so large, so unstable, that there’s no other way it could go out of the galaxy. And when the dust settles, new stars begin to form, and the cycle continues. Again and again.”

There’s a terrible feeling that crawls up Cal’s spine, joining the weight in his stomach. The Second Sister’s eyes fixed on the supernova with an odd amount of glee.

“But sometimes, like a phoenix, out of the ashes rises something greater. Something far more powerful. For even a star, with the pull of it’s light, cannot match the gravity of a black hole.”

Somewhere there, where the core of the star once was, light was bending and twisting. An insatiable vacuum that knew nothing but darkness; not even light could escape its pull. He could almost see it there in the colors, already sucking away at the remains.

The light will fall, as darkness demands.

“We are all luminous beings,” the Second Sister continues, turning to Cal and pressing her helmet against his chest. On autopilot, his hands come up to hold it. “And I cannot wait to see the fallout of the explosion you have created.”

Cal barely registers the sound of her footsteps, or the hiss of the door closing behind her. He looks into the empty eyes of her helmet, at his reflection in the dark, until he can’t stand the nausea bubbling up his throat. 

For a brief moment he considers throwing the helmet into the steel wall behind him. Let the satisfying feeling of everything she stood for shatter at his hands. Instead, he lets the helmet drop onto the floor, the clatter echoing with her words. 

He already knew the path that he was on. So why did her words make his hands shake, and make a panic rise that threatened to choke him? 

There’s an aftershock outside the viewport, another small burst of light adding more colors to the star’s grave. Maybe, in another lifetime, the graveyard turns into a nursery for new stars, creating light to fight the darkness. 

Maybe, in another lifetime, the star had never died at all. 

But this time, powerful and hungry, the black hole is just beginning to eat at the dust and the light, it’s gravity inevitable. And all Cal does is step over the dropped helmet and leave the lounge, not looking back. 

.

Sometimes he wondered if he should have tried to swim. If he even had a chance. The light gets smaller the farther he falls, darkness the only promise on the path he was dragged to. 

Did he ever have a choice?

As Verona kept bragging about, travelling to Asterozone was easy and fast, as the planet was full of life and thriving businesses. Mag spent most of the short trip talking with Chrys, as they asked for help with a peculiar task.

“You want to name your spells?”

“Well, I thought it would be both useful and fun,” Chrys said, “because last time I didn’t do healing, I did a different thing to help Verona recover from using her skill. So if I keep learning new things with new effects it will be hard to keep track of them all if we keep calling them ‘Chrys’ spell, oh no, not this one, the other’. Better to clear up what we’re talking about, right?”

“Yes, that makes a lot of sense!” Mag nodded excitedly. “I still don’t fully get what your second spell was, but it was indeed not healing, so we should record these variations. Do you have any names in mind already?”

Chrys got up from their sitting position on the floor, pulled out a small notepad from their pouch and read from it:

“My star mute for ages Tripped in shadows and let out a yelp It still won’t give useful answers But it answers now”

Mag blinked, unsure of what she had just heard. What part of that was the name?

“That,” Chrys explained, picking up a few pages between their fingers, “was the eleventh pitch, before I gave in to the fact science will probably want something more direct, so maybe we can just call it Star Heal.”

“That sounds more reasonable, if a bit simple. But the techniques used in healing items have more formal names, so maybe keeping it simple will help distinguish from those, actually. Besides, it’s your power so it’s fair that you get to choose. I, did not understand your other idea though.”

“Not really an idea, I never named anything other than art pieces so I started writing poems to jog my mind I guess. Then I realized I suck at naming those too.” They laughed, waving the notepad carelessly, the pages they had previously picked up flapping up and down. “Now I just have some poems.”

“I see. I don’t really understand poetry, but you did just give a good name suggestion, so maybe it did help after all.”

“Nah, I just stopped the silly streak eventually and looked up videogame stuff instead, if there’s one thing that knows about classifying spells it would be those, you know.”

“Oh, you’re right! I used to check some of those for that exact reason. Most are just fiction but I’ve seen some based on actual myths.” Mag sighed. “I’d love to reference them too, but I don’t recall any spell being mentioned by name in the ancient texts I’ve studied. They all seemed to be from people who were just meeting the spellcasters, not anyone that already had the knowledge.”

“That sucks in the sense that we won’t get any help from them, but I’m kinda thrilled to blaze the trail, you know. We can start simple but as the spells get stronger we gotta give them some flair, the moment I do something worth calling ‘Supernova Healing’ or something you’ll know I’ve made it in life.”

“That makes no sense, supernovas collapse, that implies something that’s getting weaker actually.” Weaker and dying, which did not sound good at all for a power that ran on Chrys’ life force, but she didn’t want to bring it up unless they pushed it. It had been a while since Chrys had said reckless things.

They frowned at Mag’s words. “Oh. Damn Mag, I think you just ruined a lot of dramatic titles around the galaxy right now.” They shrugged. “Eh, I’ll figure something else when I get there. I knew cool names were more the warrior side of things. For example,” they raised their voice, turning to the pilot seat, “I bet Verona could pull it off right.”

Cheryl, next to Verona, turned to them, eyebrows raised. Verona however remained unmoved, save for an ear twitching.

The scene remained frozen like that for a moment, Cheryl having turned back to Verona, still with a puzzled expression. Then Verona’s shoulders rose and fell as she sighed loudly, and slowly turned to face Chrys.

“Alright. I’ll bite. What are you talking about.”

“Naming your attacks, like those action series, you know the ones, ‘Take this, my Fist of Destruction!’, that kinda thing.”

“I’m unbiting it, shut the hell up.” She turned back to the controls.

“I mean, it can be workshopped,” said Cheryl. She —Mag had asked her actual pronouns after hearing she was Verona’s girlfriend— had a finger over in her mouth in a thoughtful way, or maybe it was just to hide the smirk in her lips.

“Cheryl, no, c’mon, you’re my only hope here!”

Cheryl got up from her seat and spun away from Verona in a graceful motion. “Shocking twist, t’was I, the traitor!” She announced with arms stretched wide. “See, that’s the kind of emotions we need to aim for here, the hot burning thrills of a warrior of justice! The Golden Fist of Payback! The Sacred Claws of Smiting Evil!”

“The Onslaught of Retribution, doom of every wrongdoer!” Chrys added.

“If I did not love this ship so much I would be flinging it into the nearest star right now,” Verona screeched, “that’s how much I hate this conversation!” But her voice cracked up at the end and she couldn’t hold back the laughter, so maybe that was a lie.

It was with that merry mood that the ship finally landed on their destination.

<prev   next> read from the start

Stars and Supernovae | July

Summary: As soon as you meet Tyler Seguin, you know you’re destined to be best friends. Sometimes you wonder if you’re destined to be more, but life keeps getting in the way. Perhaps it’s just not written in the stars? Note: This is part 7. Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6  Note 2: Almost at the end, guys!

You’d always been jealous at Tyler when he went to spend time at his lake side cottage, but when you were finally there, you realized your jealousy hadn’t been nearly intense enough. This, you decided, was what heaven would be like.

You were sitting in the grass, wearing shorts and a shirt, the sunlight warm on your face. You’d thrown a ball for the dogs, but Gerry had been the only one who actually gone running after it; Cash and Marshall were lying at your side, clearly unbothered.

“You’re getting old, bud,” you told Marshall lovingly, then scratched Cash behind his ear. “And you’re just getting fat.”

“Stop fat shaming my dog,” Tyler told you off. He was kicking a ball back and forth with Miro, one of the rookies. It was somewhat of a team outing, this trip to Tyler’s cabin; everyone who wasn’t already home was here, including Jamie and Katie, who, to your excitement, were officially back together. 

At first, you’d declined Tyler’s invite, figuring you weren’t really part of the team nor of the WAGs, but you could cut the tension in your apartment with a knife - had been able to, ever since Sabrina and Tyler broke up - and you were so sick of being stressed in your own home, so you’d taken up his offer eventually. You wouldn’t stay here, when the rest of the team left, but Tyler would, meaning you’d probably hold up in his house and give Sabrina the apartment for the summer.

It wasn’t the best solution, but you hadn’t been able to find another apartment yet, nor another roommate, so it was the only option.

Suddenly, the ball was shot in your direction and you yelped as it missed you by very little.

“Tyler!” you scolded him, and Tyler pointed to Miro.

“His fault!”

“He’s not even looking my way! You are!”

Tyler simply grinned, then very dramatically fanned himself. “It’s hot, don’t you think?” He pulled his shirt off in one swift motion and you rolled your eyes. He’d been trying to rile you up more than normal, during this trip. You might’ve gotten a tad bit red the first time you’d seen him get out of the water, his tattoos on full show and water droplets dripping down his perfectly sculpted abs, his swim shorts clinging to his ass in the most perfect way; unfortunately, Tyler had noticed that, and now he thought it was absolutely hilarious to get as naked as possible in front of you.

“Show off!” you yelled at him, then stood up and walked towards the deck, where Katie was sipping an iced tea.

“You want some?” she offered. “You look a bit thirsty.”

“Shut up,” you growled, but you took the drink from her anyway, falling down in the deck chair next to her. “He’s doing my head in.”

“As if you mind,” she scoffed. “You’re basically drooling all over yourself whenever he walks into the room, babe. You’re not fooling anyone. Not even Tyler himself, and he’s a bit daft.”

“I’m not drooling!” Your voice came out more squeaky than you would’ve liked, not helping your statement. “Besides, I’ve got Max.”

“Why are you even dating that guy? We both know it’s not going to last.”

You sighed. It was true, you knew the shelf life on your 'relationship' - it wasn’t even officially that much - with Max was pretty short. But it offered you a distraction, and you still had some hope that it would help you get over Tyler, even though you understood the chances where relatively small. After all, you’d been dating him for four months, and you still felt butterflies for your best friend.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to Max, but it was so easy; he was nice, and it was comfortable, and at least you weren’t alone.

"What does Tyler think about Max, anyway?" Katie asked. You shrugged.

“He’s polite enough. Not really nice, but not rude either. Sometimes he makes fun of him, but never when Max is there, only when it’s just us. And I think it’s just to get a rise out of me. That seems to be his main aim in life, nowadays.”

"Maybe he’s just begging for attention,” Katie offered. “You know, like when a boy on the playground used to pull your pig tails and you thought it meant he hated you but really he just had a crush on you.”

“That only ever happens to girls who look like you, Kate,” you snapped. “Nobody ever pulled my pig tails, and Tyler is just being a nuisance because that’s who he is.”

Katie held her hands up in defense. “No need to shoot the messenger.” She sipped her iced tea and you watched your best friend kick the soccer ball past Miro, Gerry running to get it, and sighed.

How much you wished she was right.

At 2 am, everyone was already asleep, and you should be too, but you simply hadn’t been able to sleep. Laying in your bed, tossing and turning, had just driven you crazy, so you put on a hoodie and made your way to the docks. You sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the stars. They were so much brighter over here, felt so much closer.

You were torn from your thoughts when you heard the tapping of feet against the wooden dock, and when you turned around, Tyler was walking up to you, his eyes still heavy with sleep. His hair was an unruly mess of curls and he looked so warm and cuddly like that… you quickly returned your gaze to the rippling water in front of you.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” Tyler’s voice was soft, gruff from just waking up, and he let out a sigh as he moved to sit next to you. He swung his feet off the edge of the dock, his bare feet hanging just above the water.

“Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

He chuckled. “You moving through the house woke up the dogs and they woke me up.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your blush. “Sorry about that. You can just go back to sleep, if you want.”

“Okay.” Tyler yawned and before you realized what was happening, his arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you back with him, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he laid down on the cold wood of the dock. “Night,” he mumbled, pushing his face into your hair, and you giggled.

“I meant in your bed.”

“Well, you’re going to have to be a lot more clear with your instructions next time.” He paused. “What are you overthinking, that’s keeping you from falling asleep?” You sighed. Sometimes it was annoying how well Tyler knew you. “Thinking about the fact that your boyfriend isn’t here?” Sometimes it was excruciatingly annoying how well Tyler knew you.

“He’s not really my boyfriend,” you told your best friend. “We haven’t… had that conversation yet.”

“What an idiot,” Tyler huffed. “Any self respecting dude would try to lock you down as soon as he saw an opening.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips. It was funny, after all, how blind Tyler was. He was the only guy that ever really had had an opening to lock you down; you knew you would do whatever he asked you to, whenever he asked you to do it. After being best friends for over 1,5 years, while he knew you better than anyone, he still had no idea. It was a testament, really, to how great your acting skills were. You should become an actress.

“You better not be laughing at me.” You felt Tyler smile against your hair.

“I would never,” you hummed. You had been.

“If he asked, would you say yes?” There was something in Tyler’s voice that you hadn’t heard before, some kind of vulnerability that shocked you. His voice was soft and unsteady and there was so much emotion packed behind it that you couldn’t quite grasp, as if your answer meant so much more than just a simple yes or no.

And maybe it did.

“No,” you whispered.

“Because you’re not in love with him.” His tone had changed, there was something relieved about it now, maybe even smug. He wasn’t asking, either; it was a statement, a fact he already knew to be true.

“No.”

It was silent for a while. You felt Tyler’s breath soft against your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you stared up at the stars.

“Do you ever wonder,” he finally broke the silence, “why the stars never aligned for us?”

You sat up, his arms falling away from your waist. “What do you mean?”

Tyler’s eyes were still on the sky. “Sometimes I go back over our friendship and I wonder if there was ever a time where it could’ve been more, if only I found the balls to make a move. I wonder if I missed something, or if the stars just never aligned for us.”

The words rang in your ears like an echo, and you struggled to find your breath. How were you supposed to answer that? What was he even trying to say? Was there a chance, even a sliver of possibility, that he felt it, too? That he felt like you belonged together, the way you did?

“Look,” Tyler hummed, pointing to the sky. “That one star is so much brighter than all the others.” You looked up, expecting him to be pointing to a plane or something stupid, but as you saw what he saw, a smile spread across your face.

“That’s a supernova,” you told him softly. “Supernovae are pretty rare, but when they happen, it’s really beautiful.”

“Yes,” Tyler said softly, “it is.” He sat up too, and his hand lightly touched your lower back. You knew, as your skin burned under his touch, that it was inevitable. There was no way it wasn’t going there, not with the way he was currently looking at you, brown eyes dark in the night, a field of electricity seemingly surrounding you. He leaned in, just a little bit, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he mumbled, “and I’m trying to figure out if I’m going to get punched in the face if I try.”

“Probably not.” You were surprised the words even left your lips, as your throat seemed to be completely closed up.

An even bigger surprise was Tyler throwing his head back and laughing, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked back at you. “Probably, huh?” he grinned. “Well, I guess I’ll take my chances.” 

And then he was right there and suddenly his lips were on yours and you didn’t think you were ever going to get closer to a supernova then that moment, right there. With one of his hands firm on your lower back, the other moved to your thigh, angling you a little bit more towards him as Tyler deepened the kiss, and your hands moved to the back of his neck and your fingers curled into his hair and it was like time was stopped around you, everything in your surroundings forgotten.

This, this was a kiss unlike any other. Never had you felt so many feelings at the same time; you were happy and scared and warm and cold and mostly, mostly you just wanted this to last, just one more second, just a little longer…

And then Tyler pulled away and everything around you shattered.

You just kissed your best friend. You just kissed your best friend while you were currently dating a boy that wanted to be your boyfriend but was never going to be, because you were in love with your best friend who had just kissed you.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, and Tyler frowned.

“What’s happening in your head right now?” he said softly, and he reached out to touch you, but you scrambled away from him, pushing yourself up off the dock.

This was cheating. You were cheating on a guy who’d never done anything wrong except believe that one day you could get over Tyler and fully be with him.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, “I’m sorry, but I can’t… We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Tyler was standing now, too, a lost look on his face. “I thought this was what you wanted too, I thought we…”

“I’m sorry,” you interjected, and then you were running, away from the guy you knew was always meant for you. The guy that had created your own supernova in your heart; explosions all around you.

//strolls in 80 years late with starbucks// sup have some the wrong jedi pain for ‘let me convince you’ @finish-the-clone-wars

Stun rings flew past her. Breaths coming in desperate gasps, her lightsabers crackled to life. Ring after ring shot at her, dying in muffled cries with a sweep of her sabers. She sensed the rocket too late. The bridge exploded violently, throwing her off her feet. A cry left her, both of her sabers slipping through her fingers as she scrabbled for a grip on the burning remnants of the catwalk.

She caught herself one handed, dangling far above the ground.

WAIT! She wanted to scream. WAIT IT WASN’T ME!

But they wouldn’t listen. The Force was howling around her so loudly she was certain this was what Master Windu spoke of when he told them of his shatterpoint ability. Something was going to happen. Whatever it was, however, she didn’t know.

Hauling herself up, she lunged to higher ground, calling one lightsaber to her.

She just knew that she needed to escape. She needed to prove her innocence.

--

She fell.

Hitting the ground, the world exploded into a supernova of pain as fractured ribs took the brunt of the blow and shattered. Gasping, she forced her eyes open, years of fighting compelling her to pick her broken body back up to fend off another attack.

None came.

Looking up, her blurring vision focused on the symbol on the cartons. Nanodroids? But that would mean-

She had proof. She could use it to convince them that she was innocent.

Hurried footsteps caught her attention and she turned, staring down the barrel of Wolffe’s blaster.

No! No she didn’t have enough evidence yet! She didn’t have a case to prove-

--

The platform rose beneath her feet, carrying her up, up, up into the Chamber of Judgment. Fear licked at her skin, but she drew the Force tightly around her. She was innocent. She had no reason to be afraid. The Council would see that. They would believe her.

The questions came rapid fire like blaster bolts on the battlefield. Instead of deflecting the shots, she opened herself to them, knowing, praying that they would be able to understand that she was being framed.

Anakin’s voice rose, loud and furious, a storm dark with lightning, and she looked up at the Council, cold tendrils of fear wrapping around her. 

It wasn’t true, was it?

Had they already made a decision?

Judgment came in one brutal swing.

The world began falling beneath her feet and she stumbled, not hearing her master’s fury, not hearing the council’s decree. A shadow approached and seized her silka beads, tearing them from her and suddenly she was fourteen again, a bounty hunter’s clawed hand tearing her identity away.

She had to get them back- she had to make them understand-

--

She had no more tears to cry.

Padme was there beside her, speaking, but she only heard half of it.

How could they convince the senate if her own family believed she was guilty?

They had raised her, trained her, cared for her, and now they had abandoned her. Had they ever cared in the first place? Or had she just been one more body to be thrown into a war whose purpose she wasn’t entirely sure of?

And if by some miracle, she did convince the Senate, then what?

Would they let her back?

Did she want to go back?

--

Her Great Trial?

The words seared over her like acid.

They had been going to execute her. If Anakin hadn’t shown up with-

with Barriss

-she would be dead.

She would be dead because the people she had trusted had thrown her to the wolves when they could have stood by her.

Didn’t they understand that?

Her master approached, humble and kind and taking the blame, apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault because he had been the only one who tried to help her.

And in his palm lay her silka beads.

She stared at them, Barriss’s words echoing in her head. The Jedi, fallen from the light. The Jedi, who turned their backs on their own. The Jedi, who wanted to pass a death sentence off as a learning experience. The Jedi, who had torn her identity from her with every ounce of violence as Bane had.

Was she a Jedi?

Was this what she was destined to become?

She stood on a cliff, staring out at a world she didn’t know.

She’d never been anything but a Jedi- but then, that wasn’t entirely true.

“The Jedi aren’t soldiers, they are peacekeepers.” 

She had heard the line countless times, but now she was finally thinking about it. It was a contradiction, and becoming less and less true as time passed. The Jedi were soldiers masquerading as peacekeepers.

And the Jedi were falling, weren’t they?

The Force whispered around her in hesitant waves that were as dark and clouded as ever. She couldn’t remember a time where the Force hadn’t been tinted with the Dark Side, and it had only been getting darker.

She lifted her hand, staring at the beads that marked her progress as a padawan.

They had torn the life they had given her away so easily. They had done it without blinking an eye, without caring what would happen if only it would appease the public.

Ice water flooded her veins as realization crashed down on her.

They had to have known the sentence would be death given that there were no other suspects. They had been prepared to throw her life away here, and ever since the moment they had sent her to Christophsis as Anakin’s new padawan. Her life had never meant anything to them, and it never would, so long as it helped the Republic continue to stand.

She couldn’t stay.

She took her master’s hand, pushing his fingers down around the beads. She knew what his expression would be before she looked up, but even so, the heartbroken confusion cut deeper than she ever could have imagined.

“I’m sorry Master,” she whispered, “but I’m not coming back.”

Supernova (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Murder, severed limbs, panic attacks, it's pretty dark ya'll read with caution please.

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: As the daughter of Wonder Woman, you always knew you were destined for something more than the life of a mortal. It seemed like your wish for a life of adventure came true but whether in the form of a blessing or curse, you didn't know. All you know is that you were the sole witness for a chain of murders that would begin. It's up to you to find out who was the murderer before it's too late......

Supernova Masterlist

The sound of beeping was numb to your ears as you started to gain consciousness. Perhaps it was that incessant noise that woke you up in the first place but you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it. As you began to drift back into the living world, you vaguely remember the nightmare you had.

Your eyes fluttered open only to find that you were in a white room. The beeping sound that you thought was an alarm clock turned out to be the heart rate monitor. Your mind was muddled, way too blurry for you to comprehend anything and if you were in the hospital, it was probably because of the painkillers.

But why were you in a hospital?

You didn’t have the time to think back before your mother entered the room, dressed professionally, ever the image of grace and put-togetherness. Seeing you awake, she quickly rushed to your side, brushing your hair from your face tenderly and kissing your brow.

“Can you see me, Star?” You nodded, immediately soothed by the use of the precious nickname. Star was what she called you, since according to her, she just needs to look at you to find her way out of the dark.

“Mom,” Your voice was hoarse and throat so dry that it hurt to speak, “What happened? Why am I here?”

Her brows furrowed, “You were attacked, at the park.”

The Park. You had thought it was just a nightmare. Suddenly, the memories from yesterday came rushing back to you; following the sound of the rustling, fighting off those two assaulters, getting sliced along the neck. In the moment, you don’t remember it being so horrific. You could barely see, with the pepper spray and tears in your eyes. Adrenaline was pumping so hard through your veins that the slice along the neck had felt like a scratch.

But maybe it was because it plagued your nightmares; the park had been haunting and scary, the guys looked bigger than they had been, when he moved the knife along your neck it had been punctuated with the sound of a sickening ‘slice’.

And then you remembered Mary-Anne’s scream when the two of them had caught up to her, dragging her away. You had gone to get help, but passed out before you could tell anybody.

You shot up, straight as an arrow and startled, your mom braced your shoulders, trying to get you to lay back down, “They took her! They took her, mom!”

Pain was shooting through your body; your muscles were aching and your neck was burning where stitches lay in its wake. But that was nothing compared to the panic you felt. How long had it been? What had they done with her?

The feeling had been new to you, the feeling of helplessness and genuine confusion. It was rare that you didn’t know what to do in an emergency. It was rare that you were in an emergency.

“What are you talking about, Star?”

“My friend. Mary-Anne. She was there that night. It was planned, mom. Two men, in all black and had their faces covered, took her and sliced my neck open when I tried to fight them off.” You tried to ignore the way your mom flinched when you said it so easily, “They took her mom and I couldn’t stop them.”

You couldn’t stop them. Your whole life you wanted to be a hero like your mother and when finally given the opportunity, a dear friend of yours was taken and you were left to bleed out. Possibly the better outcome, compared to her.

Your mother shushed you gently, pulling you into her arms and you tried to hold yourself together for no longer than a second before you crumbled. A choked sob left you as guilt hollowed your stomach painfully.

“I’ll find her, (Y/N). Stand strong. Your friend will be home in no time.” It wasn’t like your mother to make promises aimlessly, she knew what it was like to promise something only for it to never come but seeing you this way, her baby girl, she couldn’t help herself. She’d do anything to reassure you.

And then she kissed your forehead and the storm settled. You thought you felt better, all the tumultuous emotions that had been roaring in your chest had relaxed but you felt obsidian darkness left behind. It was spreading through your bones; the dread, the guilt and most of all, the fear. Your hands were tied. You weren’t a superhero; you couldn’t help but something about standing by and watching didn’t feel right.

But you had already caused enough trouble for your mother to handle. Now you would have to step out of the way, continue with your life and pray to the gods that Mary-Anne would be found and returned home. She’d be traumatized, no doubt. But her captors would be arrested and facing their life sentence. Your mother would make sure of that.

For now, all you wanted to do was hide in her arms and leave everything to her.

***

It was a few days before you returned to school. The doctors wanted to make sure that your stitches were less likely to rip and with a bandage hidden underneath your turtleneck, you were driven to school by your mother. She drove past the park pretty quickly but just the sight was enough to have you tensing.

Police tape was tied around the gate, meaning that the investigation of Mary’s disappearance had started. No doubt, the police would come over today to collect your statement as well. So far, the doctors had been deflecting, trying to keep your health their priority while you were admitted.

Just as she pulled up to the school, she turned in her seat to face you and pull you into her arms, “Be safe today, my star. You know how to reach me if you need me.”

She meant the button on your keychain. If you were ever in trouble, you’d need to click the button four times and she’d be alerted immediately. It was unnecessary, but after getting a call that her daughter was in the hospital after her neck being cut open, she was entitled to worrying.

You nodded, hugging her tightly before whispering a goodbye.

Students spared glances at you as you walked towards your locker. They all knew that you were in the hospital, that you had been the victim of an attack but managed to get away. They didn’t know about Mary-Anne however, all they knew was that she had gone missing. It wasn’t surprising, news travelled pretty quickly around this town.

You slouched away from their prying gazes that basically felt like arrows in your back, trying to ignore everyone and get your abandoned books in the locker.

“(Y/N)!” You heard before you were tackled in a hug. Tackled, might’ve been the wrong word, considering just how gently you were yanked into an embrace. You didn’t have to look at their face to know who it was. Immediately you sunk into Valerie’s embrace, sighing at the comfort she gave you.

“How’re you feeling?”

How were you feeling? Empty, would be the easy answer. You didn’t know what exactly you had been feeling for the last couple days, cooped up within the white walls of your hospital room. You couldn’t constantly feel for 7 days, you couldn’t constantly think. Eventually, you just stopped feeling.

“Uh, overwhelmed, I guess. It’s been a hectic week.” You mumbled and she nodded, patting you on the back.

“I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried when I heard the news.” Your heart warmed, slightly melting the ice that had encased it. It felt like you could actually breathe.

“Thanks, Val.” You murmured, letting her hold you until the bell sounded off. With the promise to meet her at lunch, you both parted ways and you went to your first class of the day, thankful it was an easy one. You didn’t think you could actually expend much of your energy today.

The teachers, knowing your mind was out of sorts let you day dream in class, even going so much as to tell you that you could excuse yourself if it was getting to be too much. They had known you for the better part of the year; they knew you were bright and they knew you enough to tell that you weren’t in the right state of mind.

You were grateful to them, they didn’t single you out like you were expecting, even the mean ones tiptoed around you today. For that you were more than grateful, your school could be considered one of the best. The teachers were good, the students even better. To say that you felt safe in the classroom with the rest of them was an understatement, despite the curious stares they sent you the whole day.

By lunch, you were feeling better, the social interaction being just the thing you needed to get your mind off your trauma. The bell sounded off and you took your sweet time, knowing that Valerie would save you a seat in the cafeteria.

When you left the classroom, it was more crowded than usual. You had expected the students to move to the cafeteria for lunch by now, but they loitered in the hallway. It was so silent; you could hear a pin-drop and it felt like everyone was frozen in their places when you stepped out of the room.

Noticing that they were all looking in the same direction, you turned to try and see what they were looking at but you didn’t notice it. Furrowing your brows, you tried harder to see just what they were looking at the end of the hall but all you could see was the trophy case.

It was filled to the brim with trophies, half of which you had won. Eyes flickering over them it finally landed on what they had all been seeing.

Your eyes widened and the books slipped out of your hands, tumbling to the floor. It was so silent, that everyone heard the earsplitting shriek that left your mouth echo across the hallway.

Because you finally saw what they had all been seeing.

In the trophy case, among golden and silver trophies, lay Mary-Anne’s head.

***

Everyone had been pushed into random classes by teachers, the principal telling them not to let anyone out until they said so but you barely registered what anybody said.

The breath in your lungs run out and it felt like you were underwater. Panic was flooding your system and you couldn’t register anything. All you knew was that it felt like the walls were coming closer, crowding you.

The students immediately noticed you were having a panic attack, your unfocused eyes and strangled breaths being enough indication but you couldn’t hear them try and comfort you. You couldn’t hear anything.

You fell down, holding your head and trying not to blink. Every time you saw darkness, her severed head was looking right back at you. Her face was frozen in a silent scream, golden hair shaved off and, in its place, lay snakes sutured to her skull. Your eyes screwed shut as you tried to focus on your breathing.

All you saw was her face looking back at you, her scream when you abandoned her at the park resonated through your head.

You threw up.

***

It had taken nearly an hour for you to calm down, the teachers even had to call the school nurse and, in their state of helplessness, gave you an antihistamine in an attempt to knock you out but it was in vain.

Hidden in the arms of your fellow students, you finally managed to get your hands to stop shaking. They police were called quickly and you could hear them investigating outside, closing off the crime scene before they would let out the students, the school day cut short.

“(Y/N) Prince?” You heard and your head turned to the door. The principal, accompanied with a police officer was standing in the doorway. The officer had sunglasses on even though he was indoors, “We need your witness statement.”

The class’ eyes turned to you, shock apparent in them. You had been a witness?

Even though your body was shaking, you managed to stand with the help of the other students and stumbled over to the both of them. As they were leading you away from the classroom and towards the principal’s office, you let your eyes stray to the hallway.

Mary’s locker had been thrown open to look for clues and instead of her books, all that lay on the floor were notes. Hundreds of them, exploding from the locker and onto the tiles, were parchments with a word scrawled across them in blood-red ink.

‘Medusa’

You didn’t have the time to think about it before you were being led through the school gymnasium. It was dark, the only light flitting through the high windows that barely lit the room up. You only then noticed how the officer was walking behind you instead of with the principal.

Your body tensed up, everything about this feeling wrong. Your shaking hands went into your pocket, curling around the panic button that you had, only remembering it had been there a second ago. Just as you were about to press down, you heard a shot ring out through the empty gymnasium.

It happened so quickly, you heard the bullet whiz past your ear before landing in the spine of your principal, killing him immediately and then you saw his body hit the ground. Trembling, you turned around to find the officer pointing the barrel at you and you frantically pressed the button in your pocket.

Your eyes screwed shut and you heard the sound of the gun firing and then a crash.

When your eyes opened, you were blinding by the sunlight that fell through the hole in the ceiling, your mother standing in front of you. She was shielding you away from the gunman, back turned towards you but you could feel the rage radiating off her in waves.

It took less for a second for him to be on the ground, knocked unconscious. And in another minute, the police were filing through the gymnasium.

The man that shot at you started coming to, only to find a squad of police officers pointing guns at him. One came forward to restrain him but he elbowed him in the face, grabbing something from his pocket and swallowing. He frothed at the mouth and then flopped on the ground. Dead.

You spared a glance behind you, seeing your principal face down on the ground, white shirt soaked with the blood that lay in a puddle around him. Tears rose beyond your control and you began crying quietly in the palm of your hand. Another death. Right before your eyes.

You felt your mothers hand wrap around yours and you broke down into sobs.

***

Diana sat silently beside you in the car, unsure of what to say. It didn’t take long for your witness statement to be collected. Of your principal’s murder and of Mary-Anne’s abduction. After that, Wonder Woman had told the detective that you would be placed under witness protection, under her supervision.

They had readily taken her up on her offer, trusting their city’s hero to responsibly place the witness in protection. She told them she’d contact your mother herself before taking you home.

After that, you both were in the car, heading towards who knows where; she didn’t tell you, nor did you bother to ask. She reached across the panel for your hand but her touch felt empty, like a phantom. You didn’t feel the comfort that you were looking for, that you always received. It didn’t feel the same.

So, you pulled your hand out of hers and curled up in your seat.

Eventually, she pulled up to a private lot and led you through it like she owned the place even though the place said it was owned by Wayne Ent. Even then you didn’t question anything, too exhausted to even ask her where she was taking you. You silently followed her, keeping some space between the two of you so you wouldn’t feel so suffocated.

Stopping in front of a shed, she nudged you closer towards it and you paused. You didn’t want to enter, it was closed off and you hadn’t seen the inside, who knows what was lurking there.

Even though you knew your mother could be trusted, you just couldn’t seem to take a step towards it.

Sensing your hesitation, your mother placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, hiding the hurt on her face when you flinched because of it.

“Just follow me.” She whispered, stepping into the shed herself and disappearing in a flash of light.

“Wonder Woman. 03.”

You stood there for a moment, wondering if you should just take off. You couldn’t take any more stimulation today, it had already been too much for you to take. A part of you wanted to dig a whole in the ground and hide. The other wanted to run, run far away, some place no one would ever be able to reach.

Your logical side of your mind knew it was just because you were overwhelmed from today that you wanted to take such rash decisions to escape it. To feel like you could breathe but the emotions you were feeling were so strong; the urge to be isolated was so compelling that you really couldn’t think of anything else.

It would be so easy, to run away. Your mother would find you eventually, you knew she would, and by then you would’ve calmed down enough to do whatever she wanted. You could be out of the city in less than 15 minutes if you ran at your top speed.

Every second you spent hesitating, standing in your place because your feet were too heavy to move, you were berating yourself. Any longer and your mother would come back to search for you. You should leave now.

And then you thought back to Mary-Anne and then your principal, both killed in cold blood. Both killed too cruelly. You had been without your mother for both of them, you needed her protection. Whoever had been there, wanted you specifically, most likely because you had been the sole witness of Mary’s abduction.

You couldn’t put anyone else at risk because of your tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So, taking a deep breath, you stepped into the shed and kept your eyes wide open even though the bright light burned your retinas.

“(Y/N) Prince. A08.”

When you were able to see on the other side, you realized you weren’t alone. Your mother turned to you with a sympathetic smile, one that showed that she was trying to make you feel comfortable despite knowing what you were going through. She was trying to sate you until you had the luxury of sitting down and hiding away from the world.

“(Y/N). This is Mount Justice, your new, temporary home.” She began, making sure to put enough emphasis on the word ‘temporary’, showing that she wasn’t happy about this either and that you’d be back home with her in no time.

“For your safety, I’ll be pulling you out of school for the time being until this matter is resolved.” You nodded again, this much you had figured.

“This is Batman.” She said, finally introducing you to the others that had been waiting for you but you already knew who he was. It would be stupid not to know who the dark knight was. Then she pointed to the other, “This is Aqualad. He lives at Mount Justice and will show you around.”

Aqualad stepped up to you with a gentle smile, holding out his hand for you to shake, “Greetings. I am Kaldur’ahm. It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

You stared at his hand, noticing the webbed fingers before turning to your mother, sort of like asking for permission. She nodded with a placating smile and you gingerly shook his hand, pulling away quite quickly. You didn’t say anything, your voice felt far away.

Noticing your distant expression, your mother wrapped a hand around your shoulders, “I’m sorry for the cold greeting, Kaldur. It has been a long and trying day for her.”

You missed the concerned glance they sent your way, too busy focused staring at your shoes and you felt tears pricking your eyes when you noticed some blood splattered on your laces.

“I understand. I shall show you to your room.” You nodded, feeling exhaustion take over you and you let him lead you out of the room, distantly hearing your mother and Batman discuss something.

“I will be with you shortly, star.” She called out and you nodded weakly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. If Kaldur heard you sniffling quietly behind him, he didn’t say anything. He simply led you to a room and told you to make yourself at home. This room, was nothing like your own. It felt more like a jail cell.

Your eyes flickered back to your shoes, seeing the blood again before you broke down, sliding down against the door and hiding your face between your knees.

You didn’t know of the little birdie listening to you outside your bedroom door.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@hanbedumbaf

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

Supernova Taglist:

@tinybeantm

@adc2016

@seoulnights5

All of the space asks, my dear 😄

Damn okay, here we go.. ♡ Comet - what are you currently frustrated about? Capitalism Back hole - what are you most afraid of? That one day, when I'm old and burned out I'll ask myself the question "was it really worth it - this life, this mess" and I'll know it wasn't. Galaxy - do you have nicknames. What are they? Daniel always calls me Mary Poppin or just Mary. Here I'm known as Grace and irl some folks call me that too but my name is actually Grachella. It's hard to pronounce so most of the time people make their own version l and that's okay, too. People at my voulenteering work sometimes call me Frochella because we all give each other nicknames and I kinda love that. Star - what songs do you feel describe you? Drops of Jupiter by Train, Bored by Billie Eilish, idontwannebeyouanymore by Billie Eilish, Dust by Frank Ocean and many many more I can't think of right now.Moon - are you currently reading any books? I'm currently reading (finally reading!) Lotr. I own the books forever and it was time for an adventure. I just started reading Today I am Alice yesterday. It's a biography about Alice who has multiple personalities. It reminds me of a girl i know, the story. Its not a pretty one. Planets - if you could go anywhere, where would you go? Right now I'd go to Mexico. Daniel is there for two months now and I feel like I miss a part of myself.Mercury - describe your aesthetic. Sometimes I live in the 90s and I'm turning up 2pac. Fila's on my feet and a Casio watch on my wrist. I let strands of hair fall down the front of my face while the top is tied in a quirky little ponytail and the back hangs loose, barely reaching my shoulders. Sometimes I live in the 60s. I wear long skirts and tie bows in my hair. I listen to The Civil Wars and feel infinitely soft. The pain and the sorrow, the loss - there's purpose in the ugly parts of life. Sometimes I'm an African queen. I tie my hair in a turban and wear the colours of nature. I radiate elegance. I feel deeply connected to my roots and dance to Gyptian or Jah Cure. I talk in my mother's tongue. Sometimes I am an Victorian witch. I wear a long black dress, the crocheted choker i wear is elegance itself. I cover my body with crystals as I chant a spell or pray to Gaia. See.. I don't think I have one aesthetic because I don't think I'm just one person. Venus - whats your favourite tv show? Shameless, Rick & Morty, Westworld, The Tudors, GoT, Gossip Girl, The Handmaids Tale, Vampire diaries and The Originals. Earth - if you could be anyone else for a day, who would you be? Oh I don't know. Mars - if you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change? The numbers on my bank account. Or maybe that I'd be a minimalist.. one or the other hahaha Jupiter - if you had to pick one colour to use for an entire week, what colour would yoi choose? Black for everything. Saturn - how far would you go for those you care about? 9.229 km or 5734.635 miles Uranus - what would you say is your greatest achievement? Climbing a mountain and then sleeping on the mountain in a hammock, in the middle of the Amazon. The mountain wasn't very high but I never did anything like that before. Neptune - describe yourself in one sentence. Did you not just read i cant even describe my aesthetic in a simple way. How do you expect me to describe myself in one sentence? I am so much more than one sentence. Pluto - if you could meet anyone, alive or dead, who would you meet? J.D. Salinger. Constellations - if you could have one talent, what would it be? The ability to take care of plants.. all my plants always die :/Asteroid - when you die, what do you want te be done with your body? I always wanted to give my body to science but since thats not so easy anymore i decided i want to be cremated. Or if its possible by the time i die, I'd like to be buried in a biodegradable burial pod that turns my body into a tree. Aquarius - whats a topic you enjoy learning about? Languages, science, mythology, philosophy, spirituality, witchcraft and culture are a few things popping into my mind right now. Aquila - do you prefer to read books or watch movies? I read more than i watch movies but i do enjoy a good film every once in a while. Aries - what is something you enjoy doing? Sleeping. Auriga - if you had to pick one villain from any media, who would you rather have to face and why? Delores Umbridge is a foul despicable toad-like villain i have great abhorrence for. Bootes - if you could have any animal, wild or not, fake or not, which would you want? A thestral or rather a herd. Cancer - how do you want tp be remembered? Often the wise are remembered by their tortured minds. But I'd like to be remembered as wise and free. I want people to reminisce me and think "she lived fully and without remorse, she lived the way she wanted and there wasnt any onther way for her to live" Canis Major - How many friends do you have? I find it difficult to distinct friends or friendship. On Tumblr i talk to some people, people i have been talking to for years. I have some colleagues i hang out with after work hours. Are they my friends? I hang out with friends of friends. Are they my friends, too? I cant answer this question. I dont know how many people consider me a friend. And i, myself, have a hard time figuring out what friendship exactly is. Can anyone teach me the rules? Capricornus - whats a song lyric that you can relate to? "Can you see that im getting bored, giving you every piece of me?" - by Billie Eilish Cassiopeia - whats your favourite quote? 1. "Forget what they told you about bodies and temples. Mine was all roadside attraction, tourist destination. A place mediocre men go to remember how to be good again" - by Ashe Vernon 2. "Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn" - by Sylvia Plath 3. "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel" - by Maya AngelouCyngus - if you could go back to any time perion for a couple of days, when/ where would you want to go? The beginning of everything. Gemini - do you have any siblings? How many? 2 half sisters, 3 half brothers, 1 sister and 2 steph sisters. Leo - if you could change the way any movie was made, which movie would you change? Avatar and Death note. Libra - if you could talk to your past self, what would you tell yourself? Stop smoking weed and go do something useful with your life. Lyra - would you rather be feared or loved? I find it hard to receive love but i choose it anyway. Orion - whats your favourite type of weather? The breaking if dawn on an autumn day when the air is gloomy and the meadow misty. When the world is peaceful and leaves are covered with hoarfrost. Pegasus - whats your favourite music genre? I dont think i can pick, i really cant. Perseus - whats your favourite movie genre? Drama and fantasy. Pisces - Describe someone you love without their name. Tall, dark and handsome. Self-righteous. Beautiful brown eyes. Lazy and sluggish. But such a pumpkin. Amazing smile. Incredible kisser. A cute smoll spot on their nose. Game addiction. Cant talk about feelings. Doesn't know how to apologize. Humble and soft. Sagittarius - what do you do when you don't feel well? What do you eat? I sleep alot and i barely eat or i munch on potato chips. Scorpius - if you had to pick someone to betray you, who would you pick? This woman i work with.. she's been getting on my nerves playing the victim all the time. I'd love to have a reason to go off on her. That sounds bad huh? Taurus - What makes you feel comfortable? Hoodies. Ursa Major - if you had to pick any job to have, what job would you want? Physicists or writer. Virgo - what do you value the most- artistic / creativity, musical ability, athletic ability, intellect or work ethic? 1. Artistic ability/ creativity 2. Intellect 3. Musical ability 4. Athletic ability 5. Work ethic Neutron - are you more a leader or a follower? Leader. Supernova - how do you feel about yourself? I try to love myself but its work. Supergiant - whats something you like about yourself? I love learning, knowledge. Im open to anything and I'm curious by nature. Red Giant - would you get into a debate/ argument with someone if you heard them saying something you disagree with or know to be wrong, or would yoi stay silent? I dont shy away from arguments, especially if i know im right. I can get very passionate. What is your favourite smell? What smell makes you feel most comfortable? Lavender, wood smoke, pine and sandalwood. Protostar - give a random fact about yourself. I got a new tattoo just yesterday. A picture will be up soon. Sorry, in took me a while. I dont have a computer rn so i had to do this on mobile. Thank you so much for asking me.

Prompt: Write a story based on a song. Song: Baby by The Rose (lyric video) Word Count: 1534

The closest star to us, other than the Sun, is four lightyears away. The Sun’s distance can be measured in miles, but even still, it is millions of millions of miles away. Every other star in the universe is lightyears away, millions and billions of lightyears away. And here we are, confined to one planet on the outer edges of a galaxy that is one in theorized billions, destined to crash into another galaxy in about four billion years.

My simple human mind cannot comprehend a billion dollars, let alone a billion years. A billion stars either, for that matter - and there’s an absurd amount of stars existing in our own galaxy, and billions more existing in billions of other galaxies. I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around grief, or any other multitude of emotions that consume a body so fully that it’s hard to tell if there was anything other there before or after. How can I wrap my mind around the crushing weight of existing in the universe at this time along with billions and billions of burning balls of gas? And the worst part? Most of the mass of the universe is just as intangible and invisible and heavy as emotions are.

Human eyes suck. We invented telescopes so they would suck less. Eyes can play tricks, see things that aren’t actually there, or not see something that is. That’s why we invented painting, and then, more importantly, the photograph. And then we invented photomanipulation and now nothing you see can ever be real again.

Dark matter is real, though. It has to be. Otherwise, the universe wouldn’t have nearly as much mass as it does. And sometimes, unlike manipulated photos, things had to be real. This had to be real.

My wife is sitting next to me again. She’s staring at the stars. Before, she never used to stare at the stars whenever we came out here together, a telescope between us. She used to just look at me. Now I find I want to look away from the stars and just stare at her instead.

I think she’s trying to say good-bye. I do not want to do that. I’m keeping her here and that’s probably really wrong of me, but I want to keep her. If she wants to move on, I should let her and I don’t want to hold her back, but… I don’t think I’m ready yet.

She knows that. She knows that I know that she knows that. This isn’t getting us anywhere.

She wants to leave.

The stars sparkle above us so, so far away and I stop looking at her to stare at them again. I stare even though I’ve stared a thousand times before.

I take a deep breath, cold and bitter air filling my lungs. I exhale. “Just say it,” I say. If I look at her, I’ll never look away again and she’ll never leave. I’m not ready to say farewell, but I don’t want to keep her if she wants to leave. There’s an entire sky up there and she’s staring at it so longingly.

“I’m fine,” she says. I do the thing I didn’t want to do and look over at her. She’s still looking at the stars, but her eyes are awkward. An expression she never had before, not often anyway, overcame her beautiful face and it was turning it awkward.

“Say it again to my face,” I say because I don’t believe her.

“I’m fine,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. She lied again and I realized that she was trying not to cry. She was always such an honest person, something I loved about her - love about her. Her smile could blind more than a white dwarf ever could, her voice light and trustworthy, like she was made of sunshine. She never used to lie.

Her lie made everything feel empty. Like dark matter didn’t really exist and all of space was empty. Like the space between us, sitting here on Earth, was empty. Like the space between here and the moon wasn’t filled with moonlight, like it was just… empty. I felt empty. But I had been feeling empty for some time.

When we first met, I hadn't felt empty. Being with her was the opposite of being empty. It was one of the reasons I was hanging on so much, even though it was over.

She entered my life by sunlight. It was sunny and bright, not a cloud in sight the day we met. It was a picture perfect day. There wasn’t a breeze, but it wasn’t too hot, and it felt like everything that had happened in the history of the universe had led up to that moment.

It occurred to me that while she entered my life by sunlight, she would leave it in moonlight.

Her eyes were getting progressively red. They were red on our wedding day, but those were happy tears. These aren’t. These are sad and tired. I hate them. I can’t do this to her. She deserves more than this.

But I can’t stop looking at her.

I feel like we’re tidally locked, spinning around each other due to forces greater than the force that wants to break away. Or maybe like I’m gravity and she’s an escape velocity that is almost, but not quite there. And, the thing is, gravity is the weakest known force. I’m a weakling unable, unwilling, to let her go.

Back then, it felt like gravity was the strongest, pulling us together everyday, weighing us down and we didn’t even mind. Gravity kept everything together despite it being weak. I found comfort in that, that even something so weak had such an important job and it did it with power I could only imagine. Gravity is a true underdog story.

And while I felt weighted around her, I also felt weightless. Every time she would laugh, every time she would sing, every time she would kiss me I swear I could feel my feet lifting off the ground. It was like that drop in a roller coaster, but never ending, never wanting it to end.

If I let her go now, I wouldn’t feel weightless, or weighted. I would feel like I was drifting through the endless vacuum of space, or six feet under and sinking even farther. The inbetween wouldn’t exist and either end of the spectrum would be an extreme.

In truth, I’ve been feeling like that already, so maybe I should just let her go already, broken heart be damned.

“Clouds are rolling in,” she says to me. I shiver. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“It’s already well past midnight,” I say. “It’s been dark.”

“Darker.”

It’ll be darkest when she’s gone. When she’s gone completely. And she’s already gone. I’m just holding her back, the thing I’d never done to her when she was here.

A black hole is a dead star. Everybody knows that. It’s big, it’s dark, it’s all consuming, and no light escapes. The gravitational forces it possess are overwhelming. I feel like that’s where my life is at right now. It had been a bright star, burning brighter, the pressure at the center increasing until it exploded and collapsed and became something that did the opposite of what it did before. My life had been happy, so, so, so happy. And now it wasn’t; now it was depressing, sorrowful, grief-stricken.

My life was such a big black hole that it was having delusions of being a star again. And as I stared at her, with her red-rimmed eyes, I could almost believe I was a white dwarf just on the edge of going supernova. Maybe I was - maybe I was holding out on the hope of becoming a neutron star instead, as if that was a better ending than a black hole. Or maybe I really was just waiting to let her go and say good-bye before exploding and collapsing back in on myself completely.

Looking at her, like this in the moonlight and the stars hanging overhead, I know it is time.

I take a deep breath and tell her, “I’ll leave you,” as if I’m the one stuck in her gravitational field.

She smiles and my breath catches. “You don’t have to. I’ll just go.”

There’s a lump in my throat that I can’t see to swallow, tears in my eyes that can’t seem to fall. I choke on my words as they leave my mouth. “I didn’t mean to hold you back.” They don’t carry the weight I want them to; they don’t express the guilt I feel. But she’s still smiling like I have nothing to be guilty over.

“I know,” she says. “I didn’t mean to leave.” Her hand reaches out to caress my cheek; it’s whispy in the moonlight, almost transparent. But she just seems to shine like the star she is.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

And then she’s gone like she was never there at all. The clouds rolled in. My human eyes are done playing tricks on me and refocus on the sky, searching for things they will never see.