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unmaskedagain · 4 years

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Best Birthday Wishes

Quick one shot. I rushed through at work. Nothing special. But I thought this was a decent idea.

It took less than a year for Lila to make due on her promise to turn the class against her. Most of her former friends would go out of their way to avoid her. Some took the cowards way out and just did nothing; Adrien and Rose. A few went out of their way to bully Marinette in a misguided idea of revenge; mostly Alix, Kim and Alya. The ice-out got even worse when Marinette resigned from being class president and no one (Lila) could managed to manage to do the job as successfully as she did. School field trips were with really bad or just cancelled altogether. School dances sucked. Fundraisers always fell short. No one would speak to Marinette because, as Alya said, if she just stopped being such a brat none of this would’ve happened.

Marinette shrugged it all off. She had decided if they could buy into Lila’s lies and turn against her so easily, they weren’t worth her time or effort. She made friends in other classes Aurore, Ondine, Claude and Marc quickly became her best friends. Once she did this, and the rest of the school saw she was out of the clutches of her class, the drama club quickly approached her and commissioned her for work for the school play. They were right to do so, as Marinette gave them a great deal, mostly because someone offered to pay her instead of just expecting her to do it. The art club practically got on their knees begging for help with funding their field trip. Comic Book club did the same but Marinette did one better and got them a tour of Marvel studios.

The funniest request was from the home economics class and cooking/baking club who just wanted a tour of her parents’ bakery. And maybe an internship or two, pretty please. Her mom and dad had been stunned when she asked. However, they were more than happy to lend a hand, and an internship, to the next generation of baker’s.

The best part was that no one expected her or left her to do the all work herself. The other students, her new friends, made sure that it was clear they were on a team. And if they asked her to make them something, they expected to have to pay for it. This allowed Marinette to have a lot more free time then she thought she’d get.

So much so that Marinette decided to create a website for custom designs by MDC. Once she spread the words about that, Jagged and Clara requested commission, naming her as the designer. This sparked a slew of celebrities reaching out for their own MDC design; from futball players, a few tv stars, singers, directors, a b-list movie star, were among them. Marinette got to meet them to do the designs.

Word quickly spread about the lovely young designer who didn’t bat an eye when she met them, and provided better quality then they could ever dream of. That brought in other celebrities. Celebrities who, when they publicists called Marinette, she fainted. She swore her heart stopped.

When one celebrity asked for a environmental fabric, Marinette was quick to show ones she had already created. It was a synthetic fabric that she created with the help from a local engineer and scientist who’s wedding dress she designed. It was cheap and easily replicated. The material was a hit; gaining the attention of Prince Ali who was always looking for new go-green projects to fund.

Marinette learned quickly just how tight-knit her class seemed to be. So close, other students don’t even try befriending them, after seeing many others fail. It was like there was a wall around Bustier’s class and no one could get in. And those inside never even bothered to really look outside it. It was suffocating to think about.

Marinette ended up joining the fashion club, gamers’ club, and got on the student council. Her popularity at school rose dramatically. Though, her classmates never realized.

When Marinette’s birthday rolled around, her classmates snickered when they realized that no one would be planning her birthday party. Alya guessed she spend the day with her parents but otherwise alone like she deserved. Alix vocally hoped even her parents forgot what day it was. Kim nodded along because Marinette was mean to Lila, and Lila was… Everything. A few were sad that Marinette would have such a bad birthday.

Bustier’s class were surprised when they received a text invitation to Marinette’s birthday party. Lila gets an idea and of course gets someone else to instigate it; Alya.

When Marinette arrives to class, Alya is quick to tell her that they can’t come to her birthday because they already have plans. She makes sure to add that Marinette wasn’t invited.

Marinette just shrugged, and said, “Okay, just trying to be nice.”

“Little late for that,” Alix snapped.

The class expects Marinette to announce that she cancelled her party but the news never comes. On the day of her birthday, they all threw a picnic to celebrate their new “Everyday Ladybug” Lila.

It wasn’t until Monday, did they learned just how bad of a decision that was. The moment they walked into school, it was clear that something was amiss.

“Jagged Stone was there!” A student said excitedly as she showed off the pictures of her phone. Alya tried to sneak a peek but couldn’t get close enough.

“I saw Chrissy Teigan.”

“Clara Nightingale,” Another said as Nino walked by. “I nearly died.”

A group of girls were giggling with each other. “Stranger things,” One hissed with a red face. “I got pictures with Finn from Stranger things.”

“Screw Stranger Things,” A girl taunted. “I got pics with the Stark sisters.”

“They have real names,” A girl tried to correct.

“Who cares?”

Nathanial overheard Marc saying something about a party, “Jagged Stone dedicated a song to her. And Clara brought her up on stage.” He wanted to ask his old comic book partner what he was talking about but after Lila convinced him to go solo, Nathanial couldn’t bring himself to.

Rose heard, “Prince Ali was there. They danced together. It was so sweet,” While walking through a crowded hall. And nearly had a fit trying to figure out who said it.

“Jonas brothers!”

“Gigi Hadid!”

“Selena Gomez!”

“Tony Stark!”

And the name drops went on and on until the entire class thought they were going crazy. Particularly Lila who was used to being the only ones dropping names.

When the warning bell rung, Sabrina, surprising was the first to ask the question on everyone’s mind, “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

Heads shook no. Alya stood up frustrated, on her phone, “No. But I’m going to find out.” Within seconds the determined expression on her face, shifted to surprise, then disbelief, then shocked. And when she looked up, the stunned look was still on her face. “Marinette’s party,” She said slowly as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Everyone’s talking about her party.”

“No way,” Alix sneered as she pulled out her own phone. Others followed suit. Lila had her phone out before anyone could blinked.

Jaws dropped. Marinette’s birthday was a tag trended of Twitter, Instagram and nearly every social media site. Celebrities who couldn’t make it gave their best wishes to the young designer.

The pictures were everywhere. Marinette with one celebrity after another. Even Ladybug (Master Fu letting Trixx, Tikki, and the other Kwami giving their regards) wished her a happy birthday.)

They quickly recognized the faces of other students they knew at the party, some pictured with a celebrity or two, themselves.

“Luka was there,” Juleka whispered.

Mylene frowned, “He performed without us. Without kitty section.”

“Prince Ali,” Rose whispered. “Marinette danced with Prince Ali.”

Lila quietly seethed. How could this happen, she wondered. How come she never knew Marinette knew all those celebrities. The worst picture of them all didn’t even include a celebrity just the mountain of presents she got.

Adrien was supposed to be my way in, Lila thought with a frown.

Alya gasped, “You were there!” She hissed at Chloe. “You don’t even like her.”

“But I was invited,” Chloe smirked, “Of course I was. Dupain-Cheng throws the best parties.” She stated. “Like I’d be stupid enough to miss it. Even Mama went. But that was mostly because Miranda Priesley announced she was going. As did Wilhelmina Slater. It seems anyone and everyone in fashion wanted eyes of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, MDC, the up and coming designer for the stars. Including Gabriel Agreste,” She added with smug look.

This caused Adrien to frown. He didn’t know his father had been invited. Or that he’d actually gone. Why didn’t Marinette tell him?

The bell rang just as the bluenette in question walked into class. Only to once again see all eyes on her. She ignored them and went to her seat in the back. Marinette had a great weekend, and so was going to let anyone ruin her good vibe.

“So… Marinette,” Lila purred, in a way that reminded Marinette of the way she said Adrien’s name. “How was your birthday?”

Marinette eyed her suspiciously, “Good. More people than I thought came.” That was an under-exaggeration if that was possible. She didn’t know exactly how word spread but she blamed Jagger… And Clara… And Audrey Bourguis… Nadja.

“Girl, everyone was there,” Alya said excitedly. “Ladybug was there. I forgot you two knew each other.”

“Yeah,” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I figured.”

Alya continued on like she never said anything, “I’d have killed to be there. Jagged Stone sang you a song.”

“Well I’ve known him for a few years now,” Marinette said, because, duh. “He’s like my uncle.” Her crazy, wild, decide to do an entire firework show, and nearly get everyone arrested uncle. “I went to his wedding. I design Penny, his wife’s dress. And his tux. And the bridemaids gowns. The tux for Fang,” Freaking Fang.

“Fang?” Ivan asked.

“His pet crocodile,” Marinette answered. “The same pet he’s had for twenty years. Anyone can find article about Fang, if they. Checked. Their. Resources.”

If Alya noticed the callout, it didn’t phase her as the girl didn’t even blink.

Nino looked confused, “I thought he had a cat?”

Lila’s eyes widened.

I thought you had a brain, Marinette nearly snapped. “Turns out a lot people were wrong.”

“Why didn’t you tell us who’d be there?” Adrien asked. “That my dad was invited. I would have gone. He hates parties.” (“He hates fun,” Chloe snorted.)

“Yeah,” Alix huffed. “Do you have any idea how awesome it would’ve been to meet a pro-skater.

“Or a Futball player,” Kim added.

“A director!” Nino went. “Or those actors.”

Marinette leaned back in her seat. “I didn’t know who all was coming,” She said. “You were invited. I just to invite Everyone I worked with as well. It was a party for a fourteen-year-old girl, I didn’t think they’d come.” At all, what’s so ever. Marinette had just did it to be polite.

“Worked with?” Rose’s mouth opened in awe.

“I designed for them,” Marinette offered. “But I didn’t think they show.”

“Nearly everyone in school was there,” Nino complained.

“No,” The bluenette was quick to correct. “I invited my friends; the ones I know from gamers club, design club, drama club, backing club, the students council. And I invited you, because I thought it was the polite thing to do.”

The clear distinction between the two was obvious.

“My friends came,” Marinette said. “Celebrity or otherwise; they all came. They wanted to wish me a happy birthday. Because they care.”

“Some of could’ve had our big breaks.” Alya snapped, anger in her eyes. “You invited us because you knew we wouldn’t show up!”

Marinette just stared at her before shaking her head, “I had guessed you wouldn’t,“ She admitted, and then smiled. But you were invited.”

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #class salt

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felismiscellaneous · 3 years

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Casonverse Expo

ok so after you see this you Cannot save it. the whole thing about the casonverse is that its solely “oral” and memory based. i cannot write down “rules” to it or anything. this post Will be lost to time and youll just have to deal with that

ok so. we begin. our story. w/ an explanation on how ectobiology has been going on earth c. basically, every once in a while to increase genetic diversity, a babeh between two of the original founders is created randomly, and said founders get to decide if they want to adopt that babeh or not.

now its been a very very long time on earth c and all of these bitches are immortal. yep. every single one. even the non godtiers, they get an immortality boon for winning the game. you know whats also a boon? all of the players getting revived. yep. every single one. because this is my au and i can do what i want.

anyways as i was saying basically at some point a babeh between john and karkat is made and this time theyre like “yeah ok well adopt this one” SO. they be goin there. and the ONE TIME they decide this is the right time the baby is fuckin BROKE. the internal organs of trolls and humans dont mesh very well when the genes are combined in the ectomachine, and this baby is basically just dying very slowly. this baby isssss Casey! well, shes not named that by her parents, but well just call her Casey for now.

john and karkat do their fuckin best to keep this thing alive but her tiny baby body is completely dysfunctional. and doesnt last very long. This is Traumatizing for Everyone Involved. anyways!! a pretty long time after that we have Cason and Jones. they were spawned at the same time. Jones is rose and kanayas horrible ectospawn, and Cason happens to be another equally horrible spawn between john and karkat! they decide to adopt this one, and fortunately it lives. This was Their First Mistake.

but before we get into Cason, lets get into Jones. Jones is,,,, very socially awkward. in fact, she often comes off as creepy to everyone else. this makes her very clingy towards her mothers, who arent That terrible at parenting. theyve got quirks, but theyre good for her. Jones doesnt really have any friends, except this Totally Cool and Not at All Dangerous cult she gets dragged into! this is the second secret shes ever kept from her mothers. the first is that shes the one who keeps bringing snails into the house. Jones likes snails, but shes not good at taking care of them. she just keeps bringing them into the house and feeding them her snack. her snack is rat poison. snails like and digest rat poison safely. snails! she likes them.

ALSO APPARENTLY SHE CAN SEE GHOSTS???? yeah lets get into that. see, Casey becomes a Regular Ghost after she dies. not a dream ghost, just a plain ol ghost. and anyways, shes around the same age as everyone else if not a year older due to Ghost Rules now, and Cason is the only one that seems to be able to see her. and then theres Jones. Jones is absolutely stunning to Casey and yes she falls so hard in dokis. but Jones is trying to ignore the fact that she can see ghosts. it makes her feel like even more of an outcast. ooooo drama! anyways those two have their own background plot going on about fighting eldritch gods or something idk.

LETS GET BACK TO CASON. see. Cason. is The Worst. like, genuinely. ever since he was a kiddo, he was a completely spoiled brat from day one, and spent his childhood Looking Down on People for multiple reasons. for one, hes the son of TWO FUCKING FOUNDERS AND RAISED BY THEM, two he got away with EVERYTHING, and three i think its just in his nature. Cason prides himself in being knowledgeable and better than everyone else, but he is not like Other Egomaniacs((tm.))

Cason doesnt necessarily care about being liked, even if he WAS a great manipulator, or being the best at Everything. he couldnt care less about sports or popularity. all he wants, is Control. just like hes had since day one. This is Terrible for Everyone Involved.

but most terrible for anyone, is Tippie Piyjon. Tippie is terezi and nepetas ectospawn, which, really started it all. now, terezi and nepeta are not horrible people, or even necessarily horrible parents, but theyre just not suited for it. Tippie raised herself on romance novels and the like, especially after being sortve taken in as a goddaughter by karkat almost immediately after she was born. and, because of this, she got to meet Cason very early on. there was hardly ever a day where the two werent around eachother, whether they liked it or not. in school, at their own house, wherever. now, being around Cason of all people all the time, meant you knew exactly how he operated.

and well, Tippie figured that, maybe, if she was just good enough, she could change him. and Cason used that to his full advantage. the two became moirails, which was Fucked Up for Everyone Involved, and grew ever closer. now Cason, being Cason, was Extremely Emotionally Abusive to Tippie. she had to do what he asked, whatever it was, even if it wasnt morally right, she had to stay by his side, she couldnt cry in front of his parents, she had to get good grades so he wouldnt look bad, so many damn things she had to do. even if he never once laid a finger on her, her mental health was, slowly but surely, chiseled down.

every attempt at defying him was met with such coldness, or hed act more warm towards her, so surely she was doing something right and had to keep going. just had to be good enough. hell get better eventually. Cason earns the title of #1 Gaslighter Extraordinare. the only place she found any solace away from him was grubscouts, which she joined on her own terms when she was very young, and at the time was a camp counselor even! this lasted. for so many years.

Cason is nineteen whenever i depict him, and Tippie is seventeen, but very nearly eighteen. eventually, she cant take it anymore, and snaps at him. usually this doesnt last, and he would manage to calm her down eventually, but shes fucking Tired of it. he hasnt changed. not even a bit. well. Cason cant have that, now can he? the first time he lays a hand on her, he slaps her across the face. Big Mistake. though terrified, Tippie lashes out, and claws Casons left eye out, making a terribly deep gash that would leave him permanently blind in that eye whether or not he got treatment.

this scares the SHIT out of her, and Tippie runs off, for the first time, to her mothers. as she cries, she recounts how terrible everythings been and how she didnt mean it and shes sorry and- theres nothing to apologize for. its very clear, that they shouldve stepped in sooner, shouldve noticed something was wrong. meanwhile, Cason crawls home to his own dads, who are rightfully spooked seeing their son with a horrifically bloody face and a gouged eyeball. they only had a second to try and comfort him, before he snapped at them, showing a bit of his true nature to them for the first time, and also, terezi showing up behind him. after a thorough explanation which was mostly just a few stern, if a little tearful words, Casons parents are completely mortified. karkat quickly kicks him out in an act of raw emotion. no chance to grab clothes, or for john to interject, Cason is left outside, alone, and with absolutely no power left. what will he do?

theres also other characters but theyre like babies so they dont have much characterization and also arent very important to the story. but here they are ig:

owen, jade and daves child. hes like, 3. he likes sticks and playing in mud. hes 3 what more do you want from him

siyren, aradia and feferis kiddo. shes like, 6. she likes ballet, arts and crafts, and being snooty

damien, eridan and solluxs kid. hes 10, likes calling people slurs over xbox, and overcompensating since his parents waited so damn long to adopt him after his slimebirth

killer, who named himself, aradia and sollux kid. hes like 11 or something. he likes being edgy and has the same issue as damien. in fact, all but siyren have this issue

toga bitch, who i have currently yet to name, aradia and eridans kid. shes 12. she likes earth rome and chilling in public fountains. a burgundy whose violetkin

wemon wemon, who is also currently unnamed, feferi and eridans kid. hes 13, the oldest. he likes earth lemon demon and horror special effects

carrie, feferi and solluxs kid. shes like 11, likes dance dance revolution and earth 9s

rosie, calliope and roxys bab, whos a baby. jane is also her mom

ben, tippies far future carapacian bf, who likes boring shit like birdwatching and scrapbooking. malewife supreme. a very soft dude, and just wants to help his gf w/ her trauma and join her grubscout troop on earning badges. just a great, if boring guy

notkonyyl, just as unnamed, a notcanadian oliveblood who enjoys going to the gym, frequenting bars, being cool, flirty, and defending her moirail to the death

notkuprum, haha unnamed, is a human, and the moirail to notkonyyl. he likes things like being annoying, flirting with everyone taller than him ((most people)), the nintendo switch, and defending his moirail to the death

#casonverse #long post #very long post #homestuck #tw abuse #tw eye trauma

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sophisticated-creepy · 3 years

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Daybreak was bright, crisp, and exhilarating, Lola feeling every fiber of her being humming with excitement as the brisk autumn sun kissed her face. She was inspired and playful, eager to attack the morning as she initiated day one of her research plans. The more she thought about the Hobblin’ Goblin for her story, the more she realized she didn’t know the essentials to his origins. She was completely attached to the idea of him being her “Mr. Goblin”, the imaginary friend and childhood companion, and never dove deeper into why he played his pranks, only that he did, and therefore, negated any notion for further investigation. He simply existed, and her imagination conceived the rest. Even Raphael, she discovered over breakfast, wasn’t fully aware of the iconic legend’s origins, and he was a history Professor.

“I guess I don’t know him as intimately as I thought,” she said, stunned to the awakening of her own ignorance regarding the goblin.

“Don’t feel badly,” Raphael had comforted. “I have no doubt you’ll turn this story of yours into an adventure yet.”

Taking her beloved’s advice to heart, Lola got into the proper mindset for delving into the task of research. Her deadline was fast approaching, and she wanted to make as much headway as possible in gathering her facts before putting pen to paper. Five hundred words held the capability to be irrevocably profound. This challenge was an opportunity to showcase depth instead of fluff, so today was all business, strictly pounding the streets for information, putting in the hard work of sleuthing, deducing, and discovering what exactly made the Hobblin’ Goblin tick.

Since the town was saturated in claims of the goblin’s mischief, Lola decided that she would first get as many personal testimonies from the victims of these pranks as possible. Then, upon more research, she would be able to see what connections in claims could help in unlocking the mystery of the Hobblin’ Goblin, allowing her assignment to look into the character of the people affected by the imp, and give her plot heart. Her own opinions were too biased in a light-hearted, flouncy sort of parody she perceived of the goblin’s personality, and while in some cases that may translate well in a fairytale aspect of playful misdemeanors, Lola wanted substance, something tangible to pull in the judges’ interests. As she gathered enough information, she would know in which direction to craft her words.

One such person she wanted to interview first was her former retail manager Stacy. Lola had spent a sizeable amount of time as an associate of the boutique Lotions and Potions, and had a few experiences of her own in her pocket to pull from if need be, but Stacy swore up and down that the place was actively haunted, sharing her stories daily of what went bump in the night. Stacy tended to lean on the side of over-exaggeration, but Lola wouldn’t discount any leads if the potential to find a nugget of inspiration rested somewhere in the spinning of a yarn, so onwards confidently she marched, notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, and entered the establishment filled with buttermilk and bubble bath.

The familiar chime sounding as she walked through the door brought a smile to her face, however, seeing Stacy on her hands and knees in front of a cabinet of decorative glass bottles had her frowning. A clumping of paper towels and a wastebasket at an elbow told Lola that, at least, nothing dire had happened.

“Do you need some help?” Lola asked, setting her belongings on the checkout counter as she fully entered the store. Stacy glanced up from her position, giving her head a slight shake, crookedly smiling at the former employee.

“You don’t work here anymore, Lola, it’s no longer your job to help clean up spills,” Stacy remarked, carefully scooping up a glob of lavender scented lotion mixed with glass shards.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend.” Lola went to get the cleaning supplies on hand stowed in a nearby cabinet drawer for emergencies such as these. She handed the bottle of cleaner to Stacy while she herself took up a broom to gather fly away chunks of glass. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Stacy sighed, spraying down the ceramic tiled floor, cleaning up the last of the mess. “A bottle of lotion leapt off the shelf is all.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Lola grasped the broom tightly to her chest in delight, a beaming smile lighting up her eyes as she turned excitedly to the woman still crawling on the ground.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Stacy informed. “I mean, product isn’t cheap, you know. I’ll be out of business if things keep flying off my shelves only to have them break on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lola frantically apologized. “It’s just…I couldn’t ask for more perfect timing. May I record you?”

“Record me? What…?” Stacy watched flabbergasted as Lola rushed to her purse resting on the checkout counter, rummaging deep within the numerous confines before emerging with a portable tape recorder. Lola immediately rushed back over to her former manager, sliding to her knees, shoving the recorder up close to a bewildered Stacy’s face.

“How did the bottle fly off the shelf? Did you hear a noise prior to it falling, or after? Like, maybe a thumping, dragging sound? Was there an ominous presence before it happened? Did you see a shadow figure? Do you believe this was the work of the Hobblin’ Goblin?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stacy laughed, rearing back on her haunches, straightening away from Lola’s tape recorder and barrage of strange questions. She couldn’t help but find humor in Lola’s exuberance. “Ease up there, gumshoe. Are you playing detective now, or something?”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation for the creative arts,” Lola declared seriously.

“Sounds important.” Stacy got to her feet, taking with her the wastebasket and cleaning implements, stowing the items behind the main counter, Lola a closely following shadow.

“So, about this incident with the lotion bottle…do you think it was a prank caused by the notoriously reputable Hobblin’ Goblin?” While leaning over the counter, Lola held her tape recorder out to Stacy. “Try to speak slowly and clearly. And enunciate,” she added, demonstrating her instructions in the same manner she wished her friend to speak.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the Hobblin’ Goblin? And why are you using a tape recorder? Do they even make tapes anymore? There is a thing called ‘digital’, you know.”

“First of all Stanley,” Lola began, indicating her tape recorder’s name, “has been with me since the beginning. He was there when I got scared by a bird that one time during an evening stakeout.”

“When did you---?”

“Secondly,” Lola interrupted, “I’m asking these questions because I’m working on a story about the Hobblin’ Goblin. Weird things happen in here all the time, and I wanted to get some of your stories and see if they line up with our local legend and his patterns for hauntings.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’d be glad to talk about the hauntings that happen here. I have plenty of stories to share.”

“Great!” Lola cheered. “Let’s get started with what happened right before I walked in.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Stacy stated, waving her hand dismissively at the cabinet full of fancy lotions. “That was probably a case in gravity, if I’m honest. The truly weird things come about in the early mornings when I’m trying to get the store ready to open.”

“Tell me about these weird things.” Even with her recorder rolling, Lola still took handwritten notes to capture important details in the moment so as not to miss an idea that could be overlooked when reviewing the tape several hours later.

“For starters, it’s like I’m being watched,” Stacy described. “I can feel eyes on me, observing me, and it’s very unnerving. Sometimes I hear footsteps following behind me, and when I turn around to look, there’s no one there.”

“What kind of footsteps? Is there a limp? Are they heavy set? Quick?”

“More of a gentle shuffling,” Stacy clarified. Lola frowned while marking in her notebook.

“The Hobblin’ Goblin is supposed to walk with a crutch, so his step pattern should be different than ‘normal’ sounding footsteps,” Lola voiced her thought aloud. “Is there anything else out of the ordinary that you can think of? Maybe something that pertains to the goblin himself?”

Stacy thought hard, trying to recall occurrences of the abnormal befalling her boutique. “Sometimes I hear breathing,” she said at last. “And sometimes, things will fly off the shelves. I’ve had the record player cut off on me once or twice as well.”

All of Stacy’s stories sounded more of a casual haunt than specifically that of a trickster, the activity appearing more benign as opposed to mischievous. Lola wanted to stay as open minded and unbiased as possible as she asked her questions to help form her story, but she was honestly hoping for something more lively and extraordinary. “Can you tell me of anything…fun?”

“Fun?” repeated Stacy.

“I mean, has anything…I don’t know…silly…happened in the time you’ve experienced these haunts? The Hobblin’ Goblin is a light hearted trickster, he plays pranks. Do things go missing only to turn up in the most random places? Do the lights flicker as if to say ‘hello’?”

“I had a pen thrown at me,” Stacy shared. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘fun’, but it was the most out of the ordinary incident to have happen to me.”

Lola perked up at hearing the news. “What were you doing when that happened?”

“Actually, I was talking with a customer about the Hobblin’ Goblin a few days ago,” Stacy recalled, the memory of the conversation returning to her mind. “When it happened, I just laughed, figuring he must not have appreciated what it was I had been saying.”

“What did you say?” Lola’s sparkle was back in her eyes as she eagerly listened to what Stacy had to tell.

“I said I thought that he was childish, and that there were a lot more scary things out in the world than an imp who merely liked to play tricks.”

“Oh, Stacy,” Lola admonished, clicking her tongue reprovingly. “That was cruel.”

“How was I being cruel?”

“You said his pranks were childish like it was a bad thing,” Lola pouted. “Goblins are generally mischievous, and you insulted him. I think you might even have gone as far as to hurt his feelings.”

Stacy laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you would defend the Hobblin’ Goblin?” The door chime announced a new arrival walking into the boutique as the friends were sharing a laugh. Stacy looked over Lola’s shoulder to greet the person, smiling friendly as she recognized the mail carrier. “Good morning, Joyce.”

“Good morning, Stacy. Morning, Lola,” the mail woman greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while, little miss. How’s tricks? Staying out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lola jest. “Hey, Joyce, do you have any stories of being pranked by the Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola turned her recorder towards the mail woman, prepared to document the newest insights into her subject matter.

“I have no time to deal with pranks,” Joyce stated. “I deliver the mail, and go about my day peacefully. I don’t call upon the Hobblin’ Goblin to play his tricks on me.”

“Meaning, she’s afraid of him,” Stacy snidely commented good humoredly.

“I respect the spirits, Stacy,” Joyce quipped in return with a smile, no malice exchanging between the two friends. “Why are you asking?” she then asked Lola.

“I’m doing research for a story about the goblin, and I wanted him to have some authenticity to his character,” she answered.

“I see. Just be careful where you go poking around,” cautioned Joyce. “You don’t want to inadvertently stir up trouble.”

“Actually, I think she does,” Stacy teased.

“More or less,” Lola agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Joyce. I’ll make sure I’m careful,” she promised.

“You’ve got a good heart, Lola, I’m confident you’ll be safe.” Reaching into her mailbag, she passed a handful of envelopes and a newspaper to Stacy. “You be careful, too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stacy defended.

“Yet, but I know you also like to go looking for trouble. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a tip of her hat, and a wink of an eye, Joyce left the boutique.

“I should probably get going, too,” Lola sighed, shutting off her recorder and gathering her belongings. “I was going to see if maybe Mr. Jasons would be interested in sharing some of his stories next. Thanks for letting me bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me in the slightest,” Stacy assured as she began filing through her mail. “Oh, hey, look at this,” she said, unfolding the newspaper to read. “The old train yard at the Miners Museum made the front page.”

“Neato,” Lola responded automatically, only half listening as she slung her purse over her shoulder, her mind already on her next objective.

“Oh, my God! Someone was attacked!”

“Wait, what?” Stacy’s declaration fully captured Lola’s attention. “What happened?”

Stacy’s eyes furiously scanned the front page, speed reading as much of the information as she could. “The police aren’t sure,” she shared after a breathless pause. “They say a security guard was pushed down while chasing away some kids during the middle of the nightshift rounds. He hit his head on the railway of the old mine train. He has a major concussion and a fractured skull.”

“That’s horrible,” Lola gasped.

“It continues to say that another guard found him in the train yard shortly after he fell. No evidence, however, of the kids, allegedly, playing around the site could be found,” Stacy concluded.

“Poor guy,” Lola sympathized. “Are they sure it was kids mucking about, and that he didn’t just accidently trip?”

“Looks like it,” she validated, continuing to rove the paper. “The second guard states the first guard, the victim, went to go chase away the kids playing by the mineshaft when they saw flashing lights from the security monitors. Here’s a picture of the scene.” Stacy turned the paper around for Lola to see the front page where a photo of the old steam engine and mine were pictured, and with it, just on the outer margins, was the backdrop of the Dead Forest. Lola felt a chill creep down her spine as she looked at the newspaper. Something ominous radiated from the main image, and she squinted critically at the photo, taking the paper to examine the image closer where a shadowed form blending into the tree line, a darker mass of shapes, hovered half-cropped out of frame. The anomaly warranted further investigation, and Lola knew just the person from whom she wanted a second opinion.

“Do you mind if I hang onto this?”

“You can keep it,” Stacy offered. “I don’t read much from the paper anymore.”

“Thanks,” Lola said distantly, her eyes glued on the blurry, pixelated blob. She began to turn and leave when Stacy summoned her back.

“Little witch,” she called. Lola blinked, focusing on Stacy. “Are you planning on flying out of here, or may I have my broom back?”

“Hmm? Oh! My bad,” Lola chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” Lola leaned the broomstick she had been holding onto since helping clean up the broken bottle against a cabinet. “I didn’t even realize I’d still been holding it.”

“It’s hard for a witch to hide what comes naturally,” Stacy joked, giving Lola a look that spoke of amusement.

“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” Lola kidded back. “And thanks again for sharing your time and stories with me, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.” The two waved their goodbyes, and Lola stepped out onto the historic cobblestone, once more lost in the picture of her newspaper.

“There’s just something ‘off’ about this picture,” Lola murmured to herself. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m hoping Modesta can.” Folding the newspaper back into its original shape, Lola cradled the bundle into the crook of her arm along with her notebook, her coffee in one hand, and set her confident march towards her friend’s shop of Curios and Oddities.

~~~~~~~~~~

#newberry at night #adventure #fantasy #romance #love #magic #witches #ghosts #goblins #ghost stories

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flowerslut · 4 years

Photo

DAY ONE: HUMAN/VAMPIRE Rated: T for language Words: 2,824

A/N: It’s day one and I’m already cheating.

Fully kidding. It’s entirely on-theme. It just so happens to be the first chapter of the brain-worm that dug itself into my skull a couple of weeks ago. The human Jasper/vampire Alice fit that I never thought I’d write. Enjoy the drama.

EDGE OF IT ALL

With a deep breath he inhaled steadily, closing his eyes as he let the cigarette calm him. Upon his exhale he opened his eyes, watching as the smoke mingled with his own breath, both evaporating in the cold air. The rain fell hard around him as he leaned up against the wet bark of the tree.

He wasn’t entirely out of the way of the constant downpour; his clothes were dampened with a fine layer of rainwater. But the slight cover that the canopy of trees provided him with was the best amount of protection he was going to get out there. He ignored the shiver that fought it’s way free and pulled his jacket tighter around him.

It was bad enough that he’d cut class, but now there was no way he’d be able to return in time for sixth period. And even if he did—if he stomped out his cigarette and rushed back to the math and sciences building—Ms. Sanborn would see his drenched state, smell the smoke on his clothes and send him straight to the office. He didn’t want them to call Wilson any more than he was sure the man wanted to be interrupted on a work day.

At the breakfast table he’d pleaded with Jasper to not cause any trouble today; his foster father had an important meeting with the nurses under his charge at the clinic today. The portly man wasn’t a nurse himself—administrative duties had been his calling, apparently—but sometimes the man spoke with an air that made Jasper wonder if the guy really thought he was as important as the health care providers that actually treated patients.

It annoyed Jasper on a good day, but today it had been borderline intolerable.

He’d tried, at least. He’d stuck it out until lunch period and then that annoying fuck Colson just had to make some remark in passing that it was a good thing college applications charged a fee, saying it ‘weeded out the dumbasses whose parents couldn’t afford school anyway.’

Jasper hadn’t even hit the guy, even after the snob had pointedly eyed Jasper as they walked by the corner of the lunch room he typically occupied. He hadn’t even said anything in reply to the remark! Really, it was a testament to some sort of self-control Jasper had been scavenging together over the past ten months at the tiny school. The fact that he hadn’t ended the day suspended should be seen as a gift to Wilson.

And truly he wasn’t hurting anyone in skipping class. He was failing pre-calc anyways. And then after that was art. Which was so easy he could probably skip the rest of the school year and still score at least a B.

That was one of the plus sides to a school (and a town) as small as Forks. Back in Oakland—and even in Seattle, although he’d only been there for a month and a half—the school resource officer would’ve been out, scouring the grounds for him by now. Here, there weren’t even metal detectors by the doors. It was bizarre in the most liberating of ways.

Not that he brought his knife to school anymore anyways. Wilson and Meg had begged him to leave it in his room. He should’ve found himself grateful that they didn’t confiscate it from him fully.

“If it helps him feel safe, it’s fine,” he’d overheard his foster mother, Meg, explaining to her conservative husband a few weeks after he’d arrived.

“He has a history of violence,” his foster father had growled back, not even attempting to be quiet. Jasper hadn’t felt bad about listening in when there wasn’t much of an attempt at subtlety.

“Violence when threatened,” he could almost picture Meg rolling her eyes, dismissing her husband’s valid concerns the way she often did. The sound of a cabinet opening and closing had given Jasper all he context clues he needed, and when he’d heard the pop of a bottle he just knew that she was about to down her nightly bottle of wine. “What’s going to threaten him out here? The rain? A wandering coyote? Relax, Wil.”

They weren’t the best placement he’d been given, in Jasper’s opinion. But they were far from the worst.

Tugging his damp sleeves further down his arms Jasper reached to his back pocket and retrieved another cigarette from the carton. He’d already told himself that his previous one would be his last one of the day, but then he’d realized that there was no way he was going to make it back to school. Might as well light up a couple more.

When he started flicking his lighter, he swore loudly when a thick raindrop fell through the canopy and perfectly into the lighter’s opening, extinguishing the flame he’d just ignited. He flicked it several times after that, swearing again when the stupid thing refused to even spark. Out of frustration he let the unlit cigarette fall from his lips, tossing the now-useless lighter deep into the woods.

Great. Just fucking perfect. He did have a shift at the new convenience store in town tomorrow, meaning he’d be able to snag a few more lighters before he clocked out, but that felt too far away.

Leaning his head back against he tree he thought to himself, attempting to come up with a decent enough excuse to get Wilson off of his back tonight. No doubt the school had already called both the house phone as well as his and Meg’s cell phones. The fact that his own shitty prepaid phone hadn’t rung yet was surprising. Usually Wilson liked to let Jasper know how disappointed he was in him the instant said disappointment struck the man.

His daydreams were cut short when suddenly something small came flying at him, hitting him square in the chest too quickly for him to dodge.

“Oof,” Jasper leaned forward, his hands moving to grab at his chest. He was caught so off guard that he had no idea what had even struck him, but whatever it was had been moving so fast that Jasper wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t bleeding beneath his shirt. The projectile had felt small and metal.

For half of a second Jasper thought that maybe he was shot, but quickly he dismissed the thought. He hadn’t heard a peep and besides, he’d learned from others exactly what being shot felt like, and this feeling—while still acutely painful—didn’t compare.

“Sorry!” A woman’s voice called from somewhere high up in the canopy, causing Jasper to almost jump out of his own skin. His head quickly lifted, searching for the source of the words. “I didn’t mean to throw that so hard!”

Who the fuck…?

It was there, on the ground in front of him, that he saw it: his broken, red lighter. The one he’d tossed far into the forest barely minutes before.

Someone else was out here with him, and she had an arm that would put most major league baseball players to shame.

Her voice was high, almost bell-like with her apology. It wasn’t a voice Jasper recognized as he wracked his brain, trying to place it with a face he knew from school.

“What—where are you?” He called out, hand still against his chest as he stepped out from the cover of the trees and lifted his eyes to the canopy once more. Her voice sounded impossibly high up. There was no way someone could climb any of these trees without a ladder, he realized as he blinked up into the oncoming rain.

Then, a blur of movement as something—no, someone—fell from high above, landing only feet away from him.

“Jesus Christ!” He screamed, unable to help himself as he stumbled back a few steps. With one arm half-way outstretched, he didn’t have time to stumble back toward the girl—holy shit she’d jumped fucking hell there’s no way she survived that these trees are massive oh god some girl just fucking killed herself in front of him—he found himself stunned into silence when his eyes fell upon the girl standing before him, completely unharmed.

“Hi!” She greeted cheerily, smiling widely up at him.

Jasper wondered if she’d thrown something else at him, because suddenly all the air left his lungs and he was stuck there motionless, staring at the girl in front of him.

She was beautiful. Almost otherworldly so. Her hair was cropped short around her face, longer strands sticking to her pale cheeks due to the rain. Her clothes were ill-fitting—and were those holes in the sweater that almost swallowed her slight frame whole?—and she was completely barefoot.

Not to mention her eyes were a bright, vivid red.

The instant his eyes landed on hers he took an involuntary step backward. Sure, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire eighteen years on this planet, but that one glance into her own gaze broke whatever trance she’d placed him in and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to raise.

It wasn’t that he’d never seen anyone wear colored lenses before. But this crossed over from weird to just plain eerie with the rest of her appearance alone.

Her face crumbled as he took another step backwards. “No! It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you, I—” but as she inhaled her face was suddenly pained, and in the blink of an eye she was suddenly fifty yards away, just barely visible across the clearing.

Moving slowly, Jasper felt his heart rate begin to skyrocket as he took another step backward. He had to move. He had to find his bag. He had to find his shit now and get the fuck out of there before—

“No!” And in another blink she was behind him, standing just between him and his ratty old backpack. “Please, I’m sorry. I know I’m going about this all wrong but—”

“What the fuck are—” it was too easy to slip on the wet leaves beneath his feet, and as Jasper landed on his ass in a puddle he couldn’t help but scurry backward any way he could. He was either losing his goddamn mind, or he was about to die. Maybe both. “Get—get away from me!” He yelled, swatting a hand ahead of him, feeling very much like a fool. Like a caveman swinging a torch toward a lion; a silly, feeble motion.

“No, Jasper, shh,” her eyes were wide then, and when she lifted her hands up toward him, as if trying to calm a wild animal, her sleeves fell backward. Jasper’s eyes locked onto the blood beneath her fingernails and in that moment he was certain he was going to die.

He stopped attempting to escape in that moment. “How the fuck do you know my name?” He demanded of the girl—the demon—the thing—as he worked to keep his voice even. She didn’t need to know that he was scared out of his wits. Truthfully, she definitely already knew it. After all he was on his ass in the middle of a puddle, not too far from wetting himself if he were being entirely honest.

He knew he’d fight his way back to the school if he had to, but somehow the idea of defending himself against this tiny girl seemed like a laughable idea.

“I’m messing this up so bad. No, no, no.” Then, her eyes flickered back toward where the school was. Jasper followed her gaze, but when he lifted his eyes back up, she was gone.

“Hello?” He called out, his voice shaking as he waited for her to reappear somewhere else around him.

He nearly pissed his pants when he turned his head back toward the school and Edward Cullen was standing there, staring out into the clearing with his weird, wide, golden eyes. Coming up behind him was none other than his brother, Emmett.

“Did you see that?” Jasper blurted out, desperate to know that he wasn’t crazy, that the Cullen boys had seen the demon girl, too.

Edward looked at him strangely then, and Jasper couldn’t help but think that the younger boy was seeing straight through him. But when the bronze-haired Cullen shrugged, looking around the clearing, as if confused, Jasper felt his heart sink. “See what?”

“You good man?” Emmett asked, jogging up to where Jasper was laying in the mud. The oldest Cullen had always been the nicest out of all of them. Not that the others were mean, but they certainly weren’t the friendliest group of people.

He’d known who they were even before he’d even started his first day. Meg and Wilson had told him all about the Cullen siblings and the Hale girls before he’d started. “They’re foster kids, too. Good kids. Maybe try hanging out with them!”

As if it would be a normal thing to do; approach the only other outcasts in the school and form what? A friendship? An alliance of weirdos? Jasper had never attempted to even talk to them.

Emmett reached down toward Jasper and he grabbed the offered hand firmly, letting the larger boy pull him up onto his feet.

Jasper frowned as Emmett released his grip. If his hands were that cold then Jasper’s had to be far worse. It was then that he was reminded just how freezing it was outside, as the rain continued to pour down on them, unrelenting. “What happened?” The dark-haired guy asked, also surveying the area with careful eyes.

“I—” But Jasper didn’t want to sound like a complete lunatic and he also had no idea how to describe what the fuck had just happened. “There was… a girl?”

“A girl?” Emmett raised an eyebrow, then his expression morphed and suddenly he looked like he was biting back a grin. “If Sanborn knew you were cutting class to hook up with a girl she’d have an aneurism.”

“I—that’s not—”

“Emmett,” Edward rolled his eyes, before turning back toward the school, “Come on.”

“What were you two doing out here?” Jasper flipped the script on them as quick as he could, hating how his face was probably bright red at the insinuation.

Emmett laughed, “Leaving early to drive this one to a doctor’s appointment,” he jutted a thumb over his shoulder toward his brother, “and we were nearly to the car when we swore we heard the sound of someone screaming.” He eyed Jasper pointedly, his eyes once more traveling around the forest. “Y’know there’s bears out here. You should be careful.”

Jasper snorted, reaching around and wiping wet leaves off his pants, then he skulked over to where he’d dropped his bag and picked it back up, flinging it over his shoulder. “There aren’t bears out here.”

“That you know about!” Emmett pointed a finger just as Edward cleared his throat, apparently tired of being in Jasper’s presence. This was what Jasper meant when he said Emmett was at least friendly. His siblings, not so much.

“Let’s go, Emmett.” If Edward had started tapping his foot Jasper wouldn’t have been surprised. He reminded Jasper of some stuck-up mom sick of waiting in line at an overcrowded Starbucks.

(Yet another normal, regular thing Forks didn’t even have.)

“Need a lift?” Emmett offered, ignoring his brother and turning fully toward Jasper. “I doubt you’re going back to class and we drive right by your street anyways.” Then he paused, “You live off Hill, right?”

Jasper nodded. “Actually, yeah. If you don’t mind.” Truthfully Jasper didn’t want to spend one more second in these woods, especially if that demon girl was going to show up again. As he turned to follow Emmett his eyes met Edward’s glare. “What?”

Edward didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move. So when Emmett strode right past him, Jasper close behind, he couldn’t help but think to himself, what the fuck is your problem? as he walked by. But it wasn’t until he and Emmett were several strides away that Jasper swore he heard something.

A growl of some sort, coming from where Edward was still standing, facing the clearing. Jasper turned to look, suddenly wondering what the hell that noise was, when Emmett reached out and grabbed the blond’s shoulder.

“Watch out,” he said, just as Jasper stumbled across an over-grown root.

Catching himself he was thankful for Emmett’s outstretched arm. Clinging to it, he steadied himself, feeling like an idiot as he quietly thanked the guy. When Jasper finally turned his head, Edward was already following after them, his expression severe.

But even as they made it to the car, Jasper pulling his hood up over his head to prevent any of the teachers from recognizing him walking with the Cullen boys, Jasper couldn’t help but wonder what that noise was.

And who that girl was.

#jaliceweek20 #the twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #jalice #human jasper/vampire alice #listen I proofread ONCE you can't expect more from me #I'll post this to AO3 and FF after jalice week is done #this is also posting while I'm dead asleep #I had to queue a buncha random shit to make it so this didn't post at 2am #anyways HEREs a fic TAKE it

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honey-harper-official · 4 years

Text

Evander Wade Hate AU - Chapter 10

MasterList for Evander Wade Hate AU

Word Count: 5901

This is an au where Evander Wade is secretly a villain because I hate him and this is fanfiction so I can do what I want. Also I’m fixing my problems with canon.

This is a long chapter and the longest one I’ve ever written so please reblog and comment it took me so long to write this.

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Nova met Adrian at an entrance for the subway tunnels on the southside of Gatlon. After Danna's she had quickly gone home and changed out of her uniform and into some casual clothes so she didn't attract any attention.

"Hey," Adrian said. "You ready?"

Nova took a deep breath. Everything was going to change after this but she knew it had to be done. She didn't get a choice whether she was ready or not.

"Yeah. I'm ready."

"Here. Press the button if you need me or call for help," Adrian said, placing a little buzzer into her hand. He must have drawn them.

"Thanks. Now go keep quiet. I'll be back shortly."

Nova slipped into the tunnels, heart pounding.

"Honey! Leroy!" It's just me. I need to grab something," Nova said as she crept in.

"Okay. When you're done can you bring me the stun gun that's in your things. I need it to run a test," Leroy called back.

"Sure," she said as she went to one of the subway cars where all her things were shoved. In the bottom, under some weapons and her gear for Nightmare, was the Vitality Charm. She grabbed it and put it on, hiding the chain beneath the collar of her shirt and the zipped of her jacket.

She then noticed that the bag that the helmet was in was right next to the box of her things and one of Honey's old mirrors was also close by, on the opposite side of the car.

Just as a precaution, Nova moved the mirror closer. It was full body and Narcissa could easily slip through it if it was needed and they eventually had to return the helmet though Nova couldn't guarantee if Honey and Leroy wouldn't move it's position.

Nova then grabbed the stun gun and made her way to Leroy with it.

He smiled at her.

"Nightmare! It's good to see you!" He said, giving her a lopsided grin.

She squeezed the stun gun in her fist though she didn't set it off.

"Leroy.... a while ago.... before I became a spy.... you asked if I wanted to start myself a new life and while I don't want to be a Renegade, I don't think I want to be an Anarchist anymore either," she admitted, trying to stay confident and now fall apart from fear.

Before he could say anything, Honey came up behind Nova.

"You what!" She shrieked. "You can leave! We're too close!"

"Please," Nova pleaded. "I can't handle it. I'm just a teenager! I shouldn't have to do this!"

"Did you forget what happened to your parents! Did you forget what the Renegades did!"

"I didn't but I also know what you did! Please there's only the two of you and there's no getting Ace out just give it up! At least let me have a chance to actually live instead of being hidden away in the tunnels!"

"You don't get to leave," Honey said, glaring.

Nova's stomach churned and she looked for Leroy for help but in the midst of all the arguing he had left from the other door.

Nova gulped but she wasn't going to call Adrian in just yet. She had to be sure of what Honey and Leroy were going to do and she didn't want to drag him into it. She didn't want to make things worse.

"Honey," Nova begged but it was too late.

Nova felt a pinch on her arm and then suddenly more and more as wasps and bees of all types filled up her one sleeve. It burned and ached and caused searing pain, like flames on spots of her skin.

She bit back the pain and forced herself not to cry or make a single noise. She could still talk her way out of this and keep Adrian out of the way. The Vitality Charm was certainly helping from it being overbearing too.

"I can make it stop if you stay," Honey promised, her voice a false sweet.

"No," Nova insisted. "No I'm not going to stay here anymore."

"Then so be it," Honey said, face turning back to sour and the bees stinging more rapidly on her arm before she felt them begin to crawl on other parts of her body.

Honey was going to make it slow and painful for her.

She was about to call for Adrian when Leroy showed up behind Honey, a beehive of hers in one hand, and a test tube of some chemical mixture in the other.

"Let her go Queen Bee," Leroy said, glaring.

"LEROY!" Honey wailed. "YOU TOO!"

"She's a child and should have never been dragged into this in the first place. Let her go. It's over," he persisted. "Let her go or I'll pour acid down every single hive you have."

Honey looked between Nova and then Leroy with her hives. She growled but caved in.

"Fine!" She said before storming off. "I guess we're down to just one free Anarchist now!"

Leroy set down the hive and then turned to Nova, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I hope you know what you're doing but I'll burn all your stuff for you," he told her.

"I do. I have a plan," Nova said, wiping her eyes and calming down so Adrian wouldn't notice. "Thank you."

"Of course. Now leave before she had the chance to change her mind," Leroy said.

Nova nodded and took off, dashing to the other end of the tunnel and scrambling out to where Adrian was waiting, ignoring her throbbing arm. It would be fine shortly once the Vitality Charm had done its job.

It was dark and if there was any sign of hurt on her he didn't notice.

"Good. I was starting to get worried," he told her, smiling.

"Yeah I'm fine. Leroy got me out," Nova said. It wasn't the truth but not a total lie either. She didn't want him worried about something that would be healed quickly.

Frankly Nova had gone through worse before.

"Why don't we go back to my place so you can grab your arm band and we can watch a movie," he offered.

"That sounds nice," Nova agreed.

She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

She was free from the Anarchists. She was free from being Nightmare. She was free and they weren't going to drag her back in ever again. They couldn't. Not without getting themselves arrested too at least.

Nova was safe to be on her own and be with Adrian and her friends and her heart was racing at the thought of it.

They went to Adrian's place and Nova noted that his dads weren't home as she kicked off her shoes and put them away.

The two of them went to his room where Adrian found a movie he liked and popped it into the movie player while she put the wristband back on, sitting on the couch.

Adrian sat beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulder and resting his head on her shoulder. Unfortunately it was right on one of the still aching bee stings and Nova yelped in pain before realizing what she had done.

He raised his brow at her and then pushed up her sleeve carefully. He took her wrist gently in his palm and turned it over, horrified by all the welts.

"Nova what happened?" Adrian asked.

"Honey," Nova said.

"I told you to call for me if you needed help," he said, devastated and clearly hurt.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Lets go to the bathroom," he sighed. "I can patch this up."

"It's not a big deal. Really I can handle it," she told him. She had been stung by Honey before as a form of training and while she remembered it vividly, she also remembered how she healed it rather quickly on her own. Her leg had ached for a week straight from some of the venom but she was perfectly fine.

"My star," Adrian said gently, his words soft and quiet as he took her chin gently in his thumb and pointer-finger, angling her face up at his. "You are allowed to ask for help."

"Okay," Nova finally agreed.

Adrian nodded and left as Nova got up and walked out of the little art studio to the bathroom. Nova sat on the edge of the tub while he took out a first aid kit and put on the gloves. He took off her jacket cautiously and then pushed up the short sleeve of her button up. The stings were mainly on her forearm but went up to her shoulder too.

It didn't feel as bad as earlier, probably from the Vitality Charm, but it still ached. Honey must have known that she had the charm and she also must have sent out her most venomous insects too. Several of the bees and wasps she controlled had strong enough venom that after a fair amount of strings, it could kill you.

That and Honey was always trying to get their stingers into some chemical concoction that Leroy made to make them even more dangerous than they already could be. There was a good chance that some of the bees had their stingers dipped into something to make them more deadly and Nova could tell as it was still an intense amount of pain for all the Vitality Charm could do.

Kneeling beside her, Adrian opened up one of the alcohol wipes and gently applied it to her arm, running it from her shoulder to her wrist with a small amount of pressure.

At first it felt like nothing but then came intense, searing pain. Nova wailed in agony, the stings feeling like they were more on fire then before and she felt like it was almost bubbling beneath her skin.

Honey had definitely dipped the stingers into something and it was now reacting with the alcohol from the wipe.

"Nova!" Adrian exclaimed, pulling away, face contorted with worry.

Nova gripped the porcelain and did her best not to shed any tears but couldn't help but cry. She leaned against Adrian's chest and sobbed in pain as her skin boiled and burned. It was like small explosions were happening beneath her skin and it was one of the worst things she had ever felt for a while. She could see little spots of amber on her skin and there was an odd smell from whatever chemical reaction had occurred.

Nova also felt a little woozy and even tired which was something that never happened to her. It must have been worse then she thought.

Adrian cradled her against him, still holding Nova's burning arm in his palm like it was a fragile object that would shatter if he let it touch anything else.

"Baby I'm so sorry," Adrian said, almost crying himself. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Don't be sorry. The stingers must have been put in something," Nova sniffled. "I don't know what but lets wait and let the Vitality Charm set in more before we try to do anything."

Adrian rubbed her back soothingly and rested his head on top of hers. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Do you think you can draw something that will draw out the pain?" Nova hissed, seething in pain.

"I can try," he told her.

Adrian took her other wrist and began drawing plants on her with his marker. They were small little doodles of plants Nova recognized immediately as she had gotten into botany and plants as one of her hobbies temporarily.

Three different, but distinct, doodles went on her wrist. One was aloe, the next was chamomile, and the third was plantain, the weed not the fruit. After a few moments the pain subdued but not by enough for her to take her mind off it for very long.

"How's that?" Adrian asked her, watching as the welts stopped swelling as much.

"It helps but is there anything else you can do?"

"I can try drawing ice or some sort of ointment but I don't want to make another reaction happen and hurt you worse."

Nova racked her brain for what could have been mixed with rubbing alcohol to cause such a reaction. Leroy had quizzed her on it so she should have known but she was in too much pain before to have really realized or thought about what it could have been.

She realized that the stingers must have been dipped with bleach. It was something she knew for a fact that Honey had herself as she would use it to clean up massive stains around whatever hole they had to live in.

Mixed with rubbing alcohol, it resulted in chloroform and chloroacetone. Chloroacetone was basically tear gas and looked yellow or amber when exposed to light, which there was plenty of through the blinds of Nova's apartment, and the chloroform would explain why she felt tired.

While water wouldn't be much help with chloroform, it only helped it pool and become more concentrated in spots, it could help get rid of the chloroacetone and Nova would rather the pain go away and end up sleeping then anything else. She'd much rather be asleep and vulnerable then be in any of the pain she was in now.

"We can wash it off and use ice. It'll take away the pain but I might end up being really tired though I think by then the Vitality Charm will keep that from happening."

The Vitality Charm was the only reason why she didn't have chemical burns and it wasn't way worse than it felt and looked. If they gave it some time and took their own action they could clear it up quickly.

"Okay. We'll do that then," Adrian said before helping her up.

Nova put her arm beneath the faucet, starting at the place that was worst with the most stings, and turned on the water, putting a small amount of soap on her arm to help make sure it was clean. She checked to be sure there wasn't anything in the soap that would make it worse.

Then Adrian drew something on his wrist with the marker and when he touched the water, it turned into ice.

Nova made a small sound of pain as at first the water and soap stung. Adrian just pressed a small piece of ice to the top of her shoulder, his forehead resting against hers as he tried to keep her calm and relaxed.

"I know," he whispered. "I know."

After a few moments the pain subdued greatly and the coolness from the ice helped.

They must have washed a lot of it out because by the time Adrian gently pat her arm dry, most of the welts were almost gone and very faint on her. The pain was a dull throb in her body and she could move her arm and hand around without withering in pain though the muscle in her arm was still tense from venom.

Gently, she unclasped the charm and handed it off to Adrian.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yeah I'll be fine. I'll just pick up some ibuprofen on the way home or something like that."

"Stay put," he told her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as he took the charm and went upstairs.

A few moments later he reentered the room with a cup of water and two pills, which Nova assumed were pain killers, in his palm, the charm gone. He must have tucked it away somewhere.

"Here," Adrian said, giving her the medicine and the cup of water.

She took the pills but it didn't kick in instantly.

Instead she went out and settled herself on the couch, her boyfriend placing a blanket over her and snuggling against her.

They laid there for what felt like an hour, resting in a comfortable silence.

"Tell me if I accidentally hurt you alright," Adrian mumbled before he kissed her.

She sunk into it, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling her body to his. An arm slid to the back of her legs and he picked her up.

Nova could feel him moving to the bed and her heart pounded as he pulled back the covers. Her mind was racing with the possibilities about what was going to happen next.

But of course Adrian was extremely respectful of her boundaries and based on how they had only been together for a few months, she figured that nothing too serious was going to happen.

Gently, he laid her down on the bed, pausing for a minute to look at her and smile. Everything about his expression was soft and loving and his deep brown eyes made it hard for her to not feel herself blushing under his gaze.

Sweet rot she loved his eyes.

Adrian moved on top of her, a leg at each side and his fingers pushing back some hair out of her face. He pressed a kiss to each cheek, lips lingering for a moment before he did the same to each side of her neck and to her collarbone, fingering with the top few buttons of her shirt to do so.

The warmth of his body and hands was overwhelming and sending fireworks off through her body. Nova knew her heart was pounding and he could probably hear it.

Adrian paused, pressing his head to hers, their noses touching.

Carefully, she reached up and cupped his face, brushing his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs.

"Please never get hurt again my star," Adrian begged, voice breaking. "I was so worried. You should have asked for my help. That's what I was there for."

"Sinta I'm alright. I can handle myself. I knew I would be okay," she reassured, keeping her voice calm and soothing.

"I don't want you to be hurt by them again. They've already had a lifetime of harm thanks to them. You don't need anymore," Adrian said. "Just let me protect you."

"I don't need protection," Nova insisted.

"Do you not need protection or have you gone so long in your life without any that you think you don't?" He asked.

She glared at him. Nova appreciated his want and desire to keep her safe but she didn't need it. The last time she trusted someone to keep her safe it only got her hurt. She had trusted the Renegades to keep her safe and they let her down. She had trusted her parents to keep her safe and it got them killed. She had trusted the Anarchists to keep her safe and it resulted in her being crushed under rubble as she hid from a battle in the Cathedral only for her to then be stuck in their cycle of abuse.

Nova would admit, always having to be on guard was exhausting. She had been like that her whole life but every time she didn't look, something slipped through. Pain always seemed to look for blind spots.

But maybe he did have a point. Maybe an outer source to tell her when something was wrong was alright and would be beneficial. She wouldn't have to be so worried all the time. But there was still a voice in the back of her mind screaming that letting anyone in was a bad idea. That being vulnerable to anyone was a bad idea.

Maybe it was because everyone she had ever trusted had failed her. Maybe it was because there was still part of her that couldn't trust a Renegade.

Nova felt guilty about it. Adrian wasn't to blame if the Anarchists had screwed her over so much that all she saw when she spotted a Renegade was a potential threat. And the fact that she still had issues with the Renegades didn't help either.

Adrian didn't deserve to have to be pushed away for the mistakes of other people. Mistakes he was trying his best to help fix.

"If I let you protect me then how do I know that it won't backfire on me and you hurt me?" Nova asked, her voice cracking as tears started to well up.

"Because I care about you. No matter what happens I always will. It's okay to be scared but it's also okay to let yourself take a break and have someone else keep you safe when you need it. If you give me that chance I'll prove it to you."

"I am scared Adrian," she admitted. "I trust you but I need you to accept that there's part of me that doesn't want to let you in because every time I trusted someone to keep me safe they failed and I just got hurt worse. I don't want that to happen again and I know it's going to be a very long time before that part of me ever goes away."

"Then I'll wait for you. I hope that will help prove to you that I'm not going to let you fall."

Nova smiled and shook her head.

"Adrian you already have proven that," she told him. "And I've let you in far more than any other person in my life because of that. I just can't go much more right now."

Nova thought of all he had done for her in less then a year of them knowing one another. She was the first person she ever let her guard down to and the first person she ever told about her family's deaths. He found out she was Nightmare and decided to stay. He knew it was going to take time for her to heal and still chose to stay. He realized that due to her trauma and isolation she was easily overwhelmed when he was affectionate and didn't mind and instead gave her space and tried to help her get better even though he had no obligation to.

And he never held anything against her.

Adrian already had proven to her that he was someone who was actually safe for her. She just couldn't help that her automatic response to people trying to help her was that they were going to get her hurt.

"That's okay too," Adrian said. "I didn't mean to push you or make you feel uncomfortable if you weren't ready for me to know any of this yet."

"No it's alright," Nova reassured. "This is probably something you need to know for our relationship to continue and to be healthy. You were just trying to do your best to protect me."

It was the truth. Nova knew he was only trying to keep her safe. She knew he didn't want to harm her even though parts of her were screaming otherwise.

At the same time she wanted to tear down her walls for him. She wished she could feel safe to let him in. She wanted to recover so she could give that to him.

Adrian had already given her so much and was doing so much for her and asked for nothing in return. He had only known her for a few months and dated her for a bit less time and yet he still stayed with her and did his best to help her when he had no reason to stay but every reason to leave. He could have told everyone she was Nightmare and walked away from her.

But he didn't.

And Nova just wanted to be able to let him protect her and fully put her guard down because she knew that he had no intentions of hurting her. There was no reason for him to put so much time and effort and work into helping her just so he could turn around and stab her in the back.

"I know you already said that I've proven to you that I'm not going to hurt you but if I have to prove it over and over again then I will," Adrian said. "I want you because of who you are and no other reason and great skies I want you so much."

Nova was not used to anyone having her best interest in her mind. She was unused to the feeling of being wanted simply because of who she was that it was unnerving.

But it was also exhilarating and warmed her heart.

There was not a false motive behind it. There was no false motive that he could even have. He didn't want her around so he could use her for his own interest. He didn't want her around because he felt bad. Adrian wanted her because he cared.

"I want you too," Nova said, voice cracking, head resting against his chest.

It was something hard for her to admit as still, even now, even now that she had Adrian, she couldn't help but feel guilty about wanting him. It felt like a betrayal even though Nova knew she wasn't betraying anyone and was only making herself happy. She certainly wasn't betraying her family either as she would continue to seek justice for them.

But that didn't mean she couldn't have Adrian at the same time.

Nova could have both. She was allowed to have both.

It was something she didn't realize before but was grateful she realized now.

"I'm sorry for fighting with you," Nova apologized.

She hated being upset with him and him being upset with her. The two of them hardly had any serious arguments and this had been the worse one by far and she hated it. Nova loathed the feeling of arguing with Adrian.

"Don't be. I know you have fears because of what you've been through and I shouldn't have tried to shove my way past that," Adrian told her, holding her tightly.

"You just wanted to keep me safe and are trying to look out for me and I don't blame you for it. I'm trying to let you in and I know that you're not going to hurt me or let me get hurt but-"

"You just can't help it?"

Nova nodded. "Yeah."

"You're going to get there. We're going to get there," Adrian promised.

She smiled softly and kissed him, one hand in his hair and the other holding onto his arm. He kissed her back but then suddenly pulled away, looking like he had just realized something.

"What's wrong?" Nova asked.

"My star I-" He began, but he cut himself off, looking like he was going to regret what he was going to say. "I don't want to push you."

Nova had a feeling that he wasn't referring to them kissing. She thought that instead he was going to tell her something like that he loved her but didn't want to rush her so he chose not to say so. They hadn't even been together for a whole year yet so she understood why he thought it could be too soon.

Nova did love him though. She loved every part of him with every part of her. But she didn't know if that's what he was going to tell her so she didn't say a word about it. She didn't want to embarrass him or herself and if he wasn't going to say that then she didn't want him to feel pressured into saying it back.

"It's okay Adrian," Nova reassured. "I get you're just trying to be cautious and careful but I'm not going to fall apart when you touch me."

"I know," Adrian whispered close to her ear. "But you're too important to me to ever take that chance."

Nova felt warmth spread through her face from that statement.

It was a good feeling too.

She was valuable to him. He wanted her and didn't want to risk losing her.

It was another thing she had never had before. With the Anarchists she was valuable as long as she had a purpose for them. She was just as valuable as she was disposable.

But she was valuable to Adrian purely because he saw her and for no other reason decided that she did have value to him and was important to him. She was extremely important to him if he didn't want to ever lose her.

Adrian wasn't going to toss her aside once he had what he wanted. He couldn't do that if she was what he wanted. And even more he was actively trying to keep her because of that.

"Why don't we go do something else?" She suggested.

"We should probably eat," Adrian said. "I can bring down some snacks and we can play Uno."

"What's Uno?" Nova asked. She had heard of the game but never played it and didn't know the rules at all.

"Okay well now we have to play Uno since you've never experienced the best card game ever."

Adrian got off the bed and disappeared for a few moments before he came back to her with a large bag of Goldfish and a deck of cards. He set them on the bed and sat across from her before dealing out the cards.

He explained the rules to her and it seemed like a fairly simple game. It wasn't hard to understand or follow and she didn't need to do an open hand round to figure out what she should do. Adrian also told her that he usually played with certain house rules like stacking.

Nova was down to her last two cards and Adrian had four left. She just had a yellow five and a wild card. However the card on top was a blue two and while she wanted to save her wildcard to play last to guarantee she won, she didn't have another choice unless she wanted to draw and risk losing to Adrian.

Nova was not going to lose to Adrian.

She placed it down.

"I'm changing it to yellow and also Uno," Nova declared.

In return, Adrian played a yellow skip card, grinning before he then put down a green skip card and then lastly, a green five.

He looked proud of himself until Nova placed her last card, sticking her tongue out.

"I win."

Adrian stared at her dumb-founded.

"I hate this so much. What are the odds?"

"You're just upset that you lost," Nova laughed as she collected the cards. "Sore loser."

"Cocky winner," he fired back.

Nova winked at him. "You know it."

Adrian hooted with laughter, taking the cards from her to reshuffle the cards.

The moment was ruined when Adrian's armband buzzed.

"My dads are on their way home," He told her.

"I better head home," Nova said, moving off of the bed and going to stand up. "It's getting late and you should probably sleep."

"I'll walk you to the door," Adrian told her, getting up beside her and giving her back her wristband.

She took it from him and then grabbed a hoodie from his dresser. He watched but didn't say a word and instead smiled. Nova found her shoes upstairs and he kissed her goodbye before she left, stopping at a local store to get painkillers before going to her apartment.

Cleo and Estelle caught her on the way back to her apartment as she exited the elevator.

"Oh good you're back. We were getting worried," Estelle said. "Who was the lovely young man who stopped by with flowers for you?"

"That's my boyfriend Adrian. He brought it as a housewarming gift."

"Ah yes we saw when we dropped off our housewarming gift for you. We hope you like it," Cleo told her.

"I'm sure it's lovely," Nova said as she unlocked her apartment door. "Thank you."

They waved goodbye as she went in, closing the door gently behind her and locking it before dropping her things on the table.

She went to put the painkillers away in the cabinet in the bathroom and noticed that things like towels and rags and cleaning supplies were all there.

It was a lot and it surprised her but Nova looked around the apartment more. In the kitchen there were potholders as well as some pots and pans and dishes and silverware and even the fridge and cabinets were stocked with food.

In the bedroom not much was changed other than the fact that there was a bead with sheets and a floral comforter and pillows.

There was a note from them on her bed.

"We realized you might be short on a few necessities so we'd thought we'd drop them off as a housewarming gift. Hope you don't mind. - Cleo and Estelle," it read.

Nova smiled. They were very sweet women and she wished she was around more so she could get to know them. Once the whole mess was sorted out then maybe she'd have that chance. It would be nice to know more people outside her team.

Nova folded back the note and put it in the drawer of the bedside table only to find a box of condoms. She blushed and shoved them deep back in the drawer along with the note before slamming it shut.

Those definitely weren't there before and she definitely had zero intentions of needing them any time soon.

Nova heard a rustling sound and whirled her head only to see Narcissa come out of the mirror above the dresser, jumping onto the floor.

"Hey," she said casually, her braid a little tousled from the small exit space.

"Hi," Nova said, doing her best to not be awkward or weird. It had been a long time since they had actually spoken to each other and had a conversation that wasn't forced.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Narcissa asked.

"Yeah umm I did," Nova said. "I just don't want things to be weird between us or for us to be on bad terms with one another and-"

"No no no. I totally get it," Narcissa said.

"I- I don't mean to be rude but can we do this tomorrow afternoon. I'll be here around 2 and I know you came so you could talk to me and I asked but I just completely cut things off with the Anarchists and it's a lot."

"Oh no that's totally fine. It's late and I should probably get to bed anyways," Narcissa said, insisting that it wasn't an issue. It was a relief to Nova as she didn't want to make things between them any worse then they probably already were.

But Narcissa, at the very least, had always been an understanding person, no matter who she was talking with. She was always the type to listen.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Nova said, offering her a soft smile.

"Yeah I'll see you too," she said before going back into the mirror.

She sighed and then went and got clean clothes before taking a shower, washing her face, and brushing her teeth. She threw her dirty clothes in the washer and ran it right away to make sure she got any chemical residue off of it and put on fresh, soft, comfortable clothes.

Nova sat down on the couch and let herself relax. For someone who never slept she was exhausted.

But she was finally free from the Anarchists and she now had her own space.

Things were going the way she wanted and maybe things weren't going to be so bad anymore.

----------

Tag List:

@thepurpledragon4444 @nova-artino @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @princessselene126 @my-littlenightmare @anarchists-87 @plain-jane-mclain @emybain @renegadesnet @itsalittlebitchilly @justsomerandomficsforrenegades @jacihayle @creampuffqueen @alecjamesartino @blueraspberry-official @imnotfluffy @ruby-tucker @everhartartino @goldendaysareahead @artino-nova @lumtiy @cosmicnovaflare

#nevada fanfiction #nodrian #tuckva #osby #danissa #danna bell #narcissa cronin #nova artino #adrian everhart #oscar silva #ruby tucker #renegays #renegades trilogy #renegades #archenemies #supernova #supernova spoilers

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codeandcreativity · 3 years

Text

Reverie

Summary: Spencer and Maeve visit the Folger Shakespeare Museum. Written for @railmereid's 2K writing challenge/prompt: "Do you think we could pretend?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Maeve Donovan (PG-13)

Category: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Allusions to stalking. No explicit spoilers, but this won't make sense if you're not familiar with the beginning of the Maeve arc (Season 8).

Reverie

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

"Do you think we could pretend?" she asks softly.

"Pretend?"

"That we're together."

He looks up, past the scratched and dirty fiberglass casing of the phone booth, down one of hundreds of similarly featured streets from which he might have called her. "How?"

"Your mind is an amazing tool, Spencer. Convince me," she says with a gossamer laugh. "Tell us both a vivid lie."

"A rare vision?" he suggests, warming to the idea.

"Take pains," she says. "Be perfect."

"OK." He slips his hand into his pocket to pull out his own phone. "I'm going to hang up and call you on my cell."

"That sounds like a great start."

He settles the heavy pay phone receiver in its cradle with a satisfying thunk and hits the first speed dial on his cell.

"Hey," she answers right away.

"Hey." He smiles to himself. "You're still there."

"I'm still here."

"Great." He exits the phone booth and walks towards his car, three doors down in front of a coin-operated laundry. "I'm parked outside of Georgetown Laundry," he says, unlocking the door of his horizon blue 1965 Volvo Amazon and sliding behind the wheel.

"I'm right around the corner," she says, voice light with mirth. "Come pick me up."

He follows those welcome instructions, turning the corner at a lazy crawl just in time to see her emerge from the door of her brownstone. Her face is hidden from him by a curtain of rich brown hair as she turns to lock the door behind her. Her figure is mostly hidden, too, beneath a loose white sun dress that falls just past her knees and a gray cardigan that is at least one size too large. She turns at last, her eyes shaded by sunglasses but her smile bright and genuine. She trots down the steps to street level, waving cheerfully as she crosses the sidewalk to his car.

He's out of the car before he knows it, rushing to meet her on the sidewalk. He holds out his hand and says breathlessly, "Maeve."

"I think we're a little past that, Spencer," she says warmly, ignoring his proffered hand and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace that feels like early summer. She smells of cotton and lilac, light and sweet. Without a thought, he buries his face in her shoulder and wraps his arms around her tightly, as if she will float away, an ephemeral thing he must cling to if he is to have any chance of keeping it at all.

"You're really here," he murmurs against her skin. She shivers. He wants to make her do it again, so he says, "Maeve."

She laughs, her hands dancing the length of his spine. "I'm here. Now," she says as she pulls back just enough to see his face. "Where should we go?"

He breathes deeply, soaking in the warm summer air and the tethered feeling of her finally standing beside him. "Where do you want to go?"

She pushes her sunglasses up to reveal pale blue eyes, crinkling with excitement. "Where do you want to take me, Spencer?"

He barely has to think, when she says it like that. "I know a place." He pulls open the passenger side door and offers her his hand again. "Get in."

This time, she takes it, her skin cool and dry against his as she lowers herself into the car. "I should have known you'd drive something with character," she says as he climbs in the driver's side, running her fingers along the vintage console.

"I don't drive it much," he admits, pulling away from the curb and pointing towards their destination.

"I know," she says. "I'm glad you drove it today."

He turns his head for just a second to appreciate the childlike wonder on her face. "Me, too."

"Can I roll down the window?" she asks.

"Of course."

She works the crank until the window is as far down as it'll go, turning her face to the breeze. "I haven't been out of my apartment in so long," she says wistfully.

After a beat, he answers, "I know."

She turns back to him with a reassuring smile. "I can't wait to see where you're taking me."

They drive through tree-lined streets to the historic part of town, calling out landmarks well-known and esoteric, until finally he pulls over and puts the car in park. "I think we're here," he says, squinting through the windshield.

"You think?" she asks playfully.

He chuckles. "Yeah. We're here."

Before them rises a long two-story building with a facade of white Georgia marble, worn by more than 80 years of east coast weather but no less stunning for its age. Tall vertical windows line length of the building, art deco grilles adorning those and the entryway closer to the ground. A series of themed bas-reliefs pose under the windows, figures of stone so well-hewn they seem to not to have been carved from the marble, but to have emerged from it.

"Oh, I haven't been here in ages," she says, hand in his as she leads him up the stairs. Her fingertips hover over the figures, but she doesn't touch. Hers won't be among the hands that slowly erase the figures from the stone from which they were birthed. All the best tragedies already constructed, in word and stone, from Macbeth to Hamlet to Romeo and Juliet , those stupid, star-crossed lovers.

"This sort of artwork is usually installed near the top of the building," he says, watching her face flush with happiness as she traverses the path towards the doors. "The Folgers asked the sculptor to place them closer to street level to give the public a better view."

She pauses a moment in front of crowned Titania, dwarfed by an attentive Bottom, idiots in love. The Fairy Queen's face is turned out, in soliloquy or reverie. Titania's body occupies the same space as her lover's, but her mind is far afield. What a privilege.

She hums appreciatively. "Is there a show today?" she says, turning her hopeful face to his.

He smiles. "What would you like to see?"

"Surprise me!" she says with a grin.

They tour the library until the sun sets, gasping softly at the details of the collection on exhibit in the Great Hall. They admire the finer points of the room itself, with its soaring plaster strapwork ceiling and intricate terracotta floor, inscribed with the masks of Comedy and Tragedy, secreting in its tiles the titles of the Bard's plays. They hover as close to the First Folio as they're permitted.

Their hands never part.

They take in the Elizabethan Theatre, with its three-tiered balconies and carved oak columns, but that's not where either of them want to spend their evening, so he takes her at last out to the garden. And for all the things they've seen today, it's the sight of the formal garden, the smell of lavender and honeysuckle and thyme that pulls the breath from her lungs and she says, "Oh, Spencer."

Palms pressed together, he pulls her closer to his side. He bends his head and whispers, "There's more."

They traverse the garden slowly; she pauses often, to touch an unfurled leaf or inhale the scent of a flower rising brilliantly from the heavily mulched earth. While she drinks in their surroundings, he only has eyes for her. Her dark hair, blunt bangs playful over clear blue eyes, the pretty pink of her cheeks when she catches him looking, the sly curl of her lips that tells him she knows she's got him wrapped around her any way she desires. She has only to say the word.

"They're setting up for the show," he says, pointing down the path with his free hand.

She looks up at him, so pure and full of hope. " A Midsummer Night's Dream ?"

"I can't imagine anything else," he says honestly.

She laughs, soft like a blanket. "I imagine we have our choice of seats."

They do, and when they're settled on a blanket the color of a late summer sunset, she leans over and whispers in his ear, "I brought us something to drink."

"I don't…"

"I know," she interrupts. "It's sparkling apple cider."

Night falls around them and the lights come up. The players on the stage dance and sing through the text seamlessly, interlacing the stories of lovers and actors, tales of fairies and humans, crises of self and burgeoning feminism that make A Midsummer Night's Dream one of Shakespeare's most widely performed works.

As the play proceeds, they turn towards one another, until they are reclining, somehow watching the stage as well as the stars above. Puck makes their appeal to the audience at last, an assurance to the perturbed that what they have witnessed may be nothing more than a dream, to be whisked away by another sleep. There is no applause as Puck sees themself out, only the lingering silence of a theater long after the audience has gone.

They are the players now, alone on the stage.

"Maeve," he says softly, just for her. "Can I kiss you?"

"I think you should," she says, and before he can make a move, she presses her lips to his. Stunned, he reacts only after a moment, his fingers threading into her hair as he pulls her closer. He follows her lead, afraid of taking this ephemeral thing they've made too far. The kisses are passionate but chaste, not that he knows any other way.

Too soon, he feels her stiffen against him. "Spencer."

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking down at her face. The tone of her voice has painted her features ashen. She's only a shade now. A phantom.

He hears a series of beeps, a staccato succession of three.

"I… I have call waiting," she says, her voice truncated with fear.

"Maeve?"

"No one has this number."

"It's OK. Don't hang up. I can get someone to trace it," he tries to reassure her, but the terror in her voice has infected him.

"Spencer, I have to go."

Before he can say anything…

"Goodbye."

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"How will I know you're OK?"

…she's gone.

He's standing in a phone booth three doors down from Georgetown Laundry, listening to a dial tone.

-End-

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#renswritingchallenge #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #romance #angst #fluff #writing prompt #writing challenge #codeandcreativity #cc reverie

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misssophiachase · 4 years

Text

Right of Way

For @klaroline-events KC Bingo - Enemies to Lovers - On AO3 and FF

At the Palm Beach Equestrian Club, Klaus Mikaelson is the prince of the polo field and Caroline the showjumping darling. They immediately dislike each other but, at the same time, can’t seem to get out of each other’s way.

right-of-way (noun) \ ˌrīt-ə(v)-ˈwā \

1: a legal right of passage over another person’s ground

2: in polo - when a player has the line of the ball on their right, they have the right of way (ROW). Enforced to keep all players safe and avoid collisions on the field, players may only enter or cross the ROW if they can do so safely and with enough distance.

Present Day (February) - Palm Beach International Equestrian Centre, Wellington, FL

(Caroline)

“I hate you.”

“Well, I hate you too, Forbes,” he growled, “now are you going to keep talking or am I going to have to...”

Before he could go through with his threat she’d pushed him up against the stall door, his intense gaze only increasing her desperation.

“Has anyone told you that you talk too much, Mikaelson?” He didn’t respond, just leaned in impatiently, his mouth claiming hers greedily.

Caroline pulled him closer, grabbing ample handfuls of his number 3 polo jersey. He was warm and familiar against her skin and a delicious aromatic mixture of spice and sandalwood. She’d never admit it, but Caroline loved being close to him post match. They’d just won convincingly, no surprises there, but he was always more needy and urgent and the sex decidedly more explosive.

His mouth travelled down her neck and Caroline had to bite her lip to stifle a moan. She wanted to take her time and enjoy him but given where they were that wasn’t an option. Plus, she knew from experience that he would make it up to her later.

He was trailing kisses along the length of her collar bone now, his lips teasing the swell of her breasts and his tongue close to delving into the valley between them when she heard a noise in one of the far stalls.

It startled them and broke up their kiss. They started at each other intently, panting but at the same time holding a silent discussion with their eyes. Should they risk it or should they move apart and avoid suspicion? It seemed like a fairly easy decision. No one could know they were together but the strong magnetic pull between them made moving seem inconvenient.

A further noise and subsequent horsey neigh made them realise that, unfortunately, it wasn’t going to happen. Not now anyway.

“I don’t like you that much anyway,” she reiterated, shrugging her shoulders. If he was offended by her comment he didn’t show it. His crimson lips curved into a knowing smile, a rogue dimple making an appearance in his left cheek.

“The feeling is mutual, love. Don’t miss me too much.” He was walking purposefully through the stables before she had a chance to reply.

Asshat.

Caroline hit her head against the stall a few times, hoping that it would somehow allow sense to prevail but unfortunately she knew if he kissed her again she wouldn’t resist. She was supposed to hate the guy not be rubbing up against him every chance she got.

Caroline felt a soft nuzzling against her shoulder, looking up into the warm and expectant eyes of her chestnut mare Coco.

“Don’t start,” she murmured, patting her nose affectionately.

How did she get here? How did they get here?

It had all started out so innocently. You don’t like the person, you ignore them.

Simple, right?

10 months earlier (April) - Palm Beach International Equestrian Centre, Wellington, FL

Equestrian was the way of life in Wellington. In fact, if you didn’t ride, compete or spectate there was no point in actually living there. Home to the Palm Beach International Equestrian Centre and to the famed Winter Equestrian Festival, they lived, breathed and everything else horse related. Caroline’s mom and grandmother had both competed at a national level and were local legends in her hometown.

She was following in their footsteps and out of the three she possessed the most natural talent. While skilled in dressage, her forte was showjumping and there were hopes she’d one day compete in the Olympics for the USA. As much as Caroline loved horse riding, she didn’t love the pressure associated with it.

Her best friend Kat competed with her from a young age, but she maintained she only stuck it out because she couldn’t resist a hot guy in jodphurs.

It was a Tuesday, Caroline remembered because she had her private lesson. After arriving at the club, she noticed a few new faces. Two guys and a girl, all around her age. The brooding blonde was especially good looking, he looked kind of familiar but she wasn’t sure why.

He also seemed generally unimpressed with his surroundings as the director Jenna Sommers showed them the facility. Caroline hung back, but was still close enough to overhear.

“The stables were built in 2017, there are sixty 12x12 stalls, twenty wash stalls, specialty hay and grain storage, multiple dressing rooms, laundry rooms, office space, full sized kitchen and bathrooms. There are three arenas, one covered, one sand and one grass.”

“And the polo facilities,” the blonde interrupted, clearly impatient. His voice was very English and his tone incredibly brusque.

“The Polo Club is adjacent. It spans nearly 250 acres and includes seven state-of-the-art tournament fields that can accommodate multiple games simultaneously.”

“I suppose that will have to do,” he muttered. Caroline knew she was biased but the polo club was internationally renowned and held many top level national and international competitions, this guy was clearly hard to please.

“Oh, Caroline,” she didn’t realise just how close she was. Jenna was looking at her curiously and she could tell was relieved by the interruption. “Meet the Mikaelson siblings, they’re new to Florida and the States. Caroline Forbes is one of our very best show jumpers.”

They seemed intimidating from the outset as they looked at her expectantly and Caroline wasn’t quite sure what to say, until she managed to get something out.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

The good looking one’s eyes flickered over her attire briefly before looking away. Charming. Well, two could play at that game.

“Rebekah is the same age, Caroline,” she said, gesturing to the blonde girl. “Maybe you could take her out to the arena for your lesson so she can look around?” Caroline figured it wasn’t a suggestion but an order.

At first Caroline thought Rebekah was incredibly uptight. Katherine would say she had a stick up her ass and Caroline was secretly glad her best friend wasn’t part of the welcoming committee.

She found out that the family were members of the exclusive Cowdray Park Polo Club in West Sussex and Rebekah’s older brother was skilled in polo. Rebekah excelled in dressage and was quite heavily involved in competitions like Caroline.

“So, I take it this isn’t that impressive compared to your previous club in England?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Your brother didn’t seem very happy with the polo facilities.”

“Niklaus isn’t happy with anything,” she drawled.

“Niklaus?”

“He hates it but I do it just to annoy him,” she offered, a slight smile crossing her face. Maybe there was a less uptight side to her after all.

“No, I meant that name sounds familiar.”

“He’s one of the best polo players in England and beyond, but don’t tell him I said that because I will deny it,” she groaned.

Now, it was all coming back to her. Caroline didn’t play polo but knew she’d seen him on the cover of quite a few magazines. He was incredibly good looking but from what she’d seen, he was clearly arrogant and self absorbed too.

“None of us are happy that my father was transferred for work but Nik is feeling the move the most. Elijah is off to Yale so is only passing through town and Kol is Kol.”

Caroline wasn’t sure what that meant, but she was certain she’d find out.

4 months later (August) USA v Argentina Display Match, Palm Beach International Polo Club, FL

“Look at that South American stallion in action,” Katherine purred from the sidelines. “And by that, I don’t mean the horse.”

Caroline rolled her eyes although it wouldn’t be Kat if she wasn’t checking out the talent.

The annual display match was a big event on the club’s polo calendar. People from all around the country and overseas attended and it was one of the premiere fashion events of the year. Although Caroline enjoyed it, something was making it less that way. Or someone if she was being specific.

Klaus Mikaelson.

Watching him take the field like he owned the place was a bad enough start to her day. In the four months she’d had the displeasure of knowing him, Caroline had decided that he was one of the most arrogant, conceited and smug idiots she’d ever met. Of course, the other girls at the club didn’t share her feelings and were all vying for his attention on and off the field. Caroline thought they were all pathetic for not seeing what she saw.

That he was an ass.

Caroline had every intention of steering clear of the guy but it seemed as if everywhere she went, he did too. It didn’t help that her and Katherine had been spending time together with his sister. It also didn’t help that he looked so attractive annoying her. Whether it was a flash of those dimples or a curve of his crimson lips, Caroline found herself doing all that she could not to jump him. And she hated herself for that. It also meant she was moody more often and it clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“The grouchy look on your face is doing nothing for that stunning Burberry dress, Care,” Kat insisted. Caroline looked down at the white, fitted ensemble thinking her friend was right that it didn’t match her personality.

“Why do we have to watch this?” She growled, noticing Katherine was about to interrupt. “And I don’t want to hear about the South American stallions."

“Well, unfortunately the club has this really annoying policy whereby all younger members need to be present. Apparently, it helps with publicity and that means more members and we all know what that means.”

“Money,” she murmured. “I don’t like it but I get it. But since when did we become the cheerleaders for the guy’s polo team? I don’t see any of them at our show jumping meets.”

“As much as you don’t want to hear this, polo is more popular and it doesn’t hurt that the club’s star player is the best advertisement they’ve got.”

“If you say his name…”

“The club has hit a gold mine with Hottie Mchottie as a member and I’m inclined to agree.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“I could have meant anyone,” she smirked. “Okay, maybe. I have to admit, I love the way he riles you up, it’s like watching live action foreplay.”

“You have a one track mind.”

“And you, my dear, are in denial.”

“I can’t stand him and his pompous ass.”

“Talking about his ass again, are we?” Kat teased. “Anyone would think you were obsessed.” Caroline gave her a look which plainly said she wasn’t interested in engaging. “Have you considered relieving some of that sexual tension with him in the nearest stable on a strategically placed haystack? You might find that helps with your general mood.”

“Well, on that rather weird and erotic novel type note,” she growled, annoyed that Kat probably had a point. She couldn’t stand the guy but there was no denying her attraction. “I’m going to get a drink and then spike it so I don’t have to deal with your wild opinions.”

“Best thing you’ve suggested all day, get me one too,” she called out to her retreating back. Caroline could hear her laughter and it wasn’t helping improve her mood.

“Why are you in such a bad mood?”

What was this, pick on Caroline day? She looked over at Kol Mikaelson standing by the buffet table, his plate piled high.

“You realise you can come back again for more, right?”

“This is my third helping,” he said, gesturing to his food. “I don’t know why they insist on these tiny plates.”

“Probably so people like you don’t hoover up the entire buffet in one fell swoop and leave nothing for the rest of us,” she offered. “I’m surprised to see you actually.”

“Really? This is my dream come true, free food and beautiful women.” Caroline fought the urge to roll her eyes.

The youngest Mikaelson had always been an enigma to her. Kol had absolutely no interest in horses. Period. Unlike his sister and brother he only attended the club on social occasions. She actually found him to be the most fun, not that she’d ever admit that.

“Of course,” she sighed knowingly. “I’m not sure why I said that. I can see the food has been a hit, how about things on the girl front?”

“Not yet, but it’s still early. I have to say Katherine is looking…”

“I’m going to have to stop you there,” she interrupted. “I love my best friend but she is a pariah and will devour you and not in a good way. Plus, she likes older guys.”

“Well, that explains her checking out Elijah,” he muttered, referring to when his older brother visited the club on a break from college a month earlier. “Any other friends for me?”

“Not any I’d introduce you to, Kol,” she joked, noticing his face falter slightly. “The day is still young though and I’ve caught April Young checking you out.” Given the way his expression changed, Caroline figured she’d buoyed him slightly.

“Of course she was,” he grinned. “So, why so glum, sugar plum?” He asked, placing his plate down and looking at her earnestly. “Usually Niklaus has to be in at least a half mile radius for this kind of reaction.”

“This has nothing to do with…”

“I’m his brother and, trust me, I know the signs,” he advised. “I assume you’ve heard about the Winter Festival then?”

“Well, it’s held every year,” she replied.

The Winter Festival was the premiere equestrian event running from January to April every year in their hometown of Wellington. It was considered the largest and longest-running competition in the world and attracted varying levels of riders from all over the US and beyond.

“Yes,” he drawled sarcastically. “I meant about you and Niklaus doing...”

“Me and Niklaus?” His face was ashen now, clearly he’d misjudged the situation and her reaction. “Doing what exactly.”

“You’re going to have to ask him,” he blurted out, holding up his plate of food like a shield between them. “I have no intention of being the messenger who gets shot, especially when I’m so young and handsome and have so much to live for.”

“Gee, how dramatic. Just tell me, Kol, “ she pressed. “Trust me, my anger will be squarely directed at your brother. If you need any proof just look at precedent.”

“He told me that you two are going to be the faces of the festival,” he mumbled. “Do all the publicity and promotional things for it.”

“Unbelievable...” she scowled. “I’m going to kill him.”

She was gone before Kol could offer any rebuttal.

45 minutes later

(Klaus)

“No need to tell me how wonderful I am, Forbes,” he smiled, walking towards the stall leading his stallion Jet.

He’d happened upon her pacing outside his stall, her white dress doing nothing to hide her delectable curves. He’d almost lost concentration multiple times during the match thanks to that particular ensemble. Klaus wasn’t one who lost concentration often but was starting to realise that Caroline Forbes did something to him that no one ever had before.

Sure, he liked to give her a hard time and revelled in the way she reacted but she’d commanded his attention for months now. No one even stood a chance when she was in his line of sight.

It started when they met. Those golden waves and blue eyes were mesmerising but if Klaus was being honest it was the slight dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that really drove him crazy.

“I’m not one of your pathetic, sycophantic groupies,” she hissed, finally coming to a stop and placing her arms across her chest defiantly. “I hear you’ve been making decisions on my behalf.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” he said, leading Jet into the stall and removing his bridle. Klaus wondered how long it would take for the news to reach Caroline.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t just go around making decisions on my behalf,” she argued.

“The festival, I assume?” He asked feigning innocence. “They needed two photogenic, equestrian talents to promote it. If anything I thought you’d be flattered.”

“Wow, you really think I’m going to fall into a giggling heap because you called me both photogenic and talented? You picked the wrong girl.”

“I didn’t pick anyone…”

“Oh no you don’t,” she shot back. “I just spoke to Jenna and apparently it was all your idea.”

“She asked me for suggestions and I obliged.” Klaus figured that at least sounded half true, even if it wasn’t.

Klaus knew that if he was going to be stuck doing publicity then the only person he wanted by his side was Caroline. Yes, it was selfish, and now, probably in hindsight, a little creepy sounding but he wanted her to see there was more to him.

“If that’s true,” she accused.

“If you do this then think of all the benefits.” She gave him a curious look and Klaus knew he had her attention. “Sponsorship, fame, fortune.”

“Just because you want those material things doesn’t mean I do,” she answered. “There’s more to life than all of this.” Klaus detected a sense of sadness in her tone, like show jumping wasn’t her only ambition in life. Before he could respond, she did. “Anyway, why would I make a pact with the devil?”

“You know, I’m much nicer once you get to know me, Caroline.”

“Says Satan,” she drawled. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Well, you’re going to have about six months to see it,” he replied.

“This is not happening,” she insisted. “I’m going to tell Jenna that this was all your hair brained scheme and I want no part of it.”

“Now, even I know you won’t do that,” he said, knowing he was right. If she backed out on this it would be frowned upon by the upper echelons at the club, not to mention her family. “Look, maybe you might even have a bit of fun. Did you ever think of that?”

“I’ve never associated you with fun,” she murmured. “More like the impediment to it.”

“We’ll see about that, love.”

“If we’re going to at least pretend to be friends, don’t call me love.”

Klaus watched her walk away, her hips wiggling hypnotically from side to side. Jet nuzzled into his neck, almost like he was thinking the exact same thing.

“Hooves off, boy, I saw her first.”

2 months later (October) - Municipal Beach, FL

“Why exactly am I wearing high heels on a horse on a beach?” She asked, as someone touched up her make-up. “I think this is up there with the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s supposed to be artistic.”

“Well, it’s not. Anyway, who asked you?” She shot back, as he held onto the reins of her horse. “You get to wear comfortable footwear at least.”

“If it’s any consolation, red is your colour,” he said, gesturing to the patent heels she was wearing. She groaned, no doubt moving around in order to get more comfortable, but given she was wearing a matching ball gown, Klaus knew it was no mean feat.

“I’ll tell you where you can stick your consolation, Mikaelson.”

“Now that’s not the way for a lady to speak, is it Jigsaw?” He spoke to the horse she was atop.

“Remind me never to agree to do this again,” she mumbled, leaning down so she could say it in his ear.

Klaus couldn’t help but laugh aloud, she’d been saying it ever since the publicity campaign began in September. Photo shoots had become commonplace for them but they’d also just finished a nation-wide interview blitz where he’d be charming and Caroline had no choice but to follow suit. He might have also held her hand a couple of times and gone out of his way not to deny a possible romance between the newest equestrian darlings. The media had eaten it up of course and Klaus was in no rush for it all to end. Luckily, they still had a while until it all wrapped up.

Her frustration with him seemed to only add to his need to be near her. Klaus knew it was a tactic she employed and that the attraction between them was not only one sided. Caroline seemed to make it her aim in life to keep her distance but Klaus could feel it in her looks and her touch.

“You secretly love the attention.”

“Not bloody likely.”

“Someone’s clearly been around me too long,” he teased hearing the ‘b’ word.

“And don’t I know it,” she groaned, then attempted to sit upright again in the saddle. In the process her left shoe fell off and landed on the sand. Klaus sprang into action, kneeling down and picking it up. He noticed her looking downwards from the saddle and held it up to her foot.

“I think there was a fairytale about this once.”

“That’s fantastic,” the photographer shouted excitedly, what seemed like a thousand clicks sounding out from his camera. “Smile, Caroline, it’s your very own Prince Charming.”

“You’re never going to let me live this one down, are you?” She asked through gritted teeth.

“Never, Cinderella.”

One month later (November) - Palm Beach International Equestrian Centre, Wellington, FL

“That’s not the right of way,” he insisted, watching as she attempted to get the ball further down the field. “The line of the ball needs to be on the right.”

“But it’s my right of way,” she argued, moving the ball again.

“No, that’s cheating.”

“You are no fun, anyone ever tell you that?” She laughed.

“They want the faces of the festival to play in the charity polo tournament,” he said. “I don’t think the organisers would take too kindly to you breaking the rules.”

“Polo is entirely too civilised for my liking, far too many rules.”

It was at that point, her horse stopped dead in the middle of the field and no amount of encouragement was going to move her. Klaus swept in and took possession of the ball and rode the rest of the distance to score.

“Hey, that’s not fair! My horse is broken,” she shouted.

“That’s no way to talk about Scout, is it girl,” he grinned, trotting closer so he could rub her ears and mane affectionately.

“Sabotage, that’s what this is,” she growled. “I should have known when you gave me one of your fifty million horses for practice.”

“I have three and every polo rider should have a few to choose from,” he remarked. “And as much as I love Coco, she’s not a polo pony.”

“She wouldn’t cheat like this little lady.”

“Says the biggest cheater of them all,” he teased, nudging her slightly.

Caroline, not wanting to be outdone, pushed back until it became a full on play fight. Catching him by surprise, Caroline pulled at one of his stray curls causing Klaus to reel backward and off his horse completely. It had been raining overnight so the field was wet and muddy in parts. Klaus managed to fall right into one of them.

As much as he wanted to get angry and be upset, Klaus couldn’t help but think her melodic laughter was contagious and he started to follow suit. Pretty soon they were both in fits of laughter and Caroline wasn’t expecting him to reach up and pull her off the saddle and into the mud with him.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“Says the girl who started it,” he joked. “I don’t know, I think mud is a good look for you.” Before she could react he’d smeared it across her cheek.

“You did not just do that!” Caroline threw some back, hitting him square on the chest. “This means war, Mikaelson!”

“Bring it on, Forbes,” he provoked, pulling her into the mud with him.

45 minutes later

“I think we can safely say that our first polo practice was a disaster,” Caroline murmured.

They’d both showered in the centre’s bathroom facilities and were sitting outside waiting on some clothes to dry. Klaus was trying not to notice just how good she looked in a towel, her usually creamy skin tinged pink from the hot water.

“I don’t know, I personally thought it was a lot of fun, especially when I pulled you into the mud pit.”

“Of course you did,” she drawled. He noticed her eyes riveted by a stray water droplet running down his bare chest. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one currently distracted by the view. “I, uh, didn’t think you had it in you, to be honest.”

“Have what in me?”

“I thought you were far too into yourself to let loose and have a bit of fun,” she offered.

“Wow, you really think that badly of me?” He asked, not exactly surprised by her account of him but also slightly offended. “Talk about judging a book by its cover.”

“I’m sorry but you seemed unimpressed with everyone and everything here after you arrived in town.”

“I was homesick,” he replied honestly. “I still am sometimes. I never wanted to leave England. My whole life was there, my friends, my family. Florida is like a whole other world and I wasn’t sure how to act.”

“Yeah, it is intense.” The empathy reflected in her eyes was enough to tell Klaus she was reconsidering her views. “You do that confident, smug act a little too well.”

“Trust me, it was difficult. This place is like horses on steroids, well you know not the animals themselves.” Klaus couldn’t believe how stupid he sounded, he decided to blame it on her being barely dressed.

“I know exactly what you mean, although Wellington is all I’ve ever known.”

“You said something about there being more to life than this,” he recalled. “What did you mean by that?”

“The dreaded legacy.”

“Family pressure?” He guessed. Klaus knew from asking around that both her grandmother and mother had been champion riders.

“This life was it for them,” she murmured. “This is all they’ve ever known and they want me to follow in their footsteps but I’m not quite sure that’s what I want.”

“You mean there’s more to life than this equestrian dream?”

“I want to get out of Wellington, go to college next year and see what else is out there.”

“Have you ever considered talking it out with them?”

“Many times,” she shared. “But I chicken out every time. How do you start a conversation like that?”

“My step father is the opposite,” he offered. “Mikael thinks riding around on a horse is extremely unmasculine and that I should be doing more practical things in my life, like concentrating on college.”

“Wow, he sounds like a real…”

“Ass?” He answered for her. “I think he hoped this move would make me reconsider polo but I don’t really know anything else.”

“We are an extremely pathetic duo.”

“Maybe we need to do something to cheer ourselves up,” Klaus suggested, trying to ignore just how much he wanted to pull off her towel and play out every single fantasy he’d had starring Caroline.

“I’m not going to roll around in the mud again with you, Mikaelson.” He could tell by the way she was looking at him, biting her lower lip as her eyes devoured him, that she wasn’t opposed to it at all.

“I could think of other, more clean, ways to pass the time until our clothes are dry?” She clearly didn’t need to be asked twice.

“Now that you mention it, I think I missed a few spots,” she smiled, pulling him up by the hand and leading him towards the showers.

“I’d be more than happy to help with that, love.”

The tension that had been building between them for months finally dissipated in a shower stall. Her back up against the tiles as he moved inside her, the hot water falling down on them. Time stood still and they only emerged once the water ran out and they were forced back to reality in a cold burst.

As relieving as it was, Klaus was disinclined to ask too many questions in case the spell was broken. Caroline seemed just as reluctant. Suddenly, being near each other was all that mattered and any talk about their feelings pushed into the background.

Present Day (March) - Competition Arena, Palm Beach International Equestrian Centre, Wellington, FL

(Caroline)

“Only one circuit between you and the championship, Care,” Kat smiled, giving Coco an obligatory good luck sugar cube.

Caroline barely heard her best friend or the announcer over the loudspeaker, she was too busy trying to get into the competition zone. Usually, it was easy to block out outside influences but she’d been struggling for the last few weeks.

It had all started when Klaus decided to ask the question they’d managed to avoid for months now. They’d finished their ‘picnic’ at a secluded spot they secretly visited and rather than redressing and leaving as usual, he’d asked the question.

“What are we?” She’d frozen to the spot, unable to respond. They didn’t do this, they didn’t talk about their feelings or wherever this was going between them. They didn’t do anything.

“Klaus…”

“You and I both know that things can’t continue like this.”

“Why not?” She cried. “We’re having fun, we’re enjoying ourselves. Let’s not ruin what we have.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know what we have,” he murmured. “I know that you make me happy and that the last few months have been the best of my life.”

“So, why do we have to put a label on it?”

“Because no one knows about us, we hide away like we’re ashamed of being together. I don’t want to do that anymore because I love you, Caroline.” He’d never said that before and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it, especially mid-fight. His gaze was as intense as it was imploring.

“It’s just…” Caroline broke off, unable to explain how she was feeling and what she wanted. She knew she had strong feelings for Klaus but it scared the hell out of her. “You’re going to Oxford in the fall and…”

“So, you’ve had enough of me then? This was all just a game to you?” She knew it wasn’t a game but it was difficult to find the words. She was expected to keep on the equestrian track in the States and the thought of him leaving her there was too much.

“Of course not,” she murmured, her gaze now firmly downcast to avoid his gaze. “I just don’t know where this is going and the sooner we realise that the better.”

He was gone before she looked up and they hadn’t spoken since.

“Caroline, hello?” Katherine asked, waving her hands in front of her face animatedly. “Where did you go? If that was a sex trance, I want to know all of the dirty details.”

“I only told you about that because you’re my best friend, but I have no intention of going into detail, even if you’re giving me those pleading, sex-starved eyes.”

“No fun, bestie,” she pouted. “So, why do I sense there’s trouble in paradise?”

“There’s no trouble,” she offered. “We’re actually not seeing each other anymore. It’s really for the best given...”

“Are you dumb or blind or both?”

“It’s not going anywhere, he’s off to England in the fall and then what? I’ll still be here doing what I do.”

“And you sound so excited by that prospect.”

“You’re going off to Columbia, Rebekah to Harvard and I’m going to Brown, not because I really want to go there but because it has the best equestrian team.”

“You need to tell your mom that this isn’t the life you want.”

“Easier said than done,” Caroline groaned. “Did I tell you that I got into Oxford?”

“What do you think?” Kat drawled. “How could you not tell me this, I’m only your best friend.”

“I only received the letter on Thursday.”

“So, I’m officially confused. You want to go to Oxford, you always have. Doesn’t this mean that all the moaning and groaning about Klaus and a possible future is redundant?”

“Kat…”

“Caroline, I say this with love, but you’re an idiot. Yes, your family wants one thing but I think you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Plus, I bet the equestrian team at Oxford is pretty good, you know if you want to keep your options open.” She did have a point.

Caroline didn’t have time to respond though because one of the guys they knew from the polo club came running towards them frantically.

“Please tell me that’s not some new and really bad dance?” Kat asked, looking at him curiously.

“There’s been an accident on the polo field.”

“What happened?” Caroline asked, her stomach dropping. It could have been anyone but for some reason she felt like it was him.

“Number 3,” he panted. “Opposing team broke the right of way, there was a collision and he was thrown off his horse.”

“Is he okay?” Caroline asked, all composure lost. She didn’t care who knew just as long as he was going to be okay.

“They took him to hospital by ambulance, he was unconscious,” he replied.

Caroline handed Katherine the reins, and they held a conversation with their eyes. The decision about what to do was the easiest one she’d made. No championship was worth it, she was going to the hospital.

1 hour and 45 minutes later

(Klaus)

“He always was the most dramatic one in the family.” Klaus heard Rebekah’s voice as he started to come to. They all knew she was the most dramatic but liked to pretend she wasn’t.

“Oh, look,” Kol exclaimed. “I guess Rebekah having a voice like nails on a blackboard has finally come in handy. Welcome back, Niklaus.”

“Is this a nightmare?” He managed to get out, his gaze trained on his younger siblings.

“Wow, you made a joke,” Rebekah cooed. “Looks like big brother is back with an even worse sense of humour.”

“Can I have some water,” he rasped, his throat dry, not to mention a splitting headache. “And as much as I love your comedy act, can we please keep the yammering to a minimum.”

“Oh, he’s definitely back,” Kol joked. “How about I get some water and you find the doctor, Beks?” She hated that nickname and her scowl confirmed it.

They both left the room and Klaus had to admit he was happy to enjoy the silence and just close his eyes for a moment.

Although he wasn’t at fault, Klaus knew he’d been off kilter for a few weeks now and might have had a slight lapse in concentration. It was bad enough he hadn’t seen Caroline since their argument but the worst part was that she didn’t even seem to want to try and make things work for them. She also seemed embarrassed for some reason and that hurt more than Klaus had imagined.

Sure, things started off fun and as much as Klaus liked that he knew things couldn’t continue that way. Yes, he was off to Oxford but he hoped that she’d offer to try rather than giving up. He even told her he loved her and nothing. To say he was hurt was an understatement.

“Oh my god,” he heard her voice, almost like he’d summoned her or something.

“Klaus.” He could hear the emotion and the slight wobble in her voice. “What have you done?” He heard her take a seat at his bedside and felt her take his hand. Klaus knew he should have opened his eyes but he was curious about what she might say.

“Please tell me the other guy looks worse and if not I’m going to kick his ass.” Klaus had to fight the urge not to smile. She was incredibly adorable when she was being jealous.

“Can you please just open those pretty eyes so we can talk? I want to tell you what an idiot I was last time I saw you.” As much as he wanted to do just that and gloat, Klaus stayed still waiting.

“Fine, if you’re going to be stubborn about it,” she muttered. “A couple of things.”

“One, I was an idiot and if you expect me to admit that when you’re conscious, think again. Two, I was scared about losing you and what we have because my family has these overwhelming expectations and I was trying to be all things to all people.” Klaus figured she was just about done and then she continued.

“Three, I want you and I want us and I love you and I really regret not saying that the other week. And finally, four, I got into Oxford and I really want to go but I don’t want you to think I’m some crazy weird stalker..”

“You got into Oxford?” His eyes flew open and he spoke before thinking, he was that shocked.

“You were awake the whole time?” She growled, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Ouch, Caroline.”

“You deserved it,” she insisted, before relenting and loosening her grip. “Yes, I got into Oxford.”

“And you love me?”

“Well, there’s no point in asking given you heard it all,” she muttered.

“And you were an idiot?”

“I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

“Probably not,” he smiled, pulling her closer. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way. Hang on, aren’t you supposed to be competing right now?”

“I was but decided I needed to be here,” she replied. “I need to start doing more of what I want with my life. But don’t let it go to your head, Mikaelson.”

“Come up here,” he asked, pulling her onto the bed so she was laying beside him. She felt familiar, comfortable and like home. “I want to make up for the last few weeks.”

“You want to do it in the hospital bed?”

“No, but someone is clearly over eager,” he chuckled.

“I’m so glad I’m in a hospital right now because I’m going to be sick,” Kol groaned, walking into the room with the doctor and Rebekah on his heels.

His reaction was predictable but Klaus and Caroline didn't really care, they were far too immersed in each other to even respond. Not when they had a future to look forward to and, after all of the initial animosity, it was most definitely worth it in the end.

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #misssophiachase #my writing

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frankiefellinlove · 4 years

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This is it! The whole article where John Landau writes that Bruce “is the future of rock n roll”. Long but so worth the read, to see that quote in context.

GROWING YOUNG WITH ROCK AND ROLL

By Jon Landau

The Real Paper

May 22, 1974📷

It's four in the morning and raining. I'm 27 today, feeling old, listening to my records, and remembering that things were diffferent a decade ago. In 1964, I was a freshman at Brandeis University, playing guitar and banjo five hours a day, listening to records most of the rest of the time, jamming with friends during the late-night hours, working out the harmonies to Beach Boys' and Beatles' songs.

Real Paper soul writer Russell Gersten was my best friend and we would run through the 45s everyday: Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" and "Anyone Who Had A Heart," the Drifters' "Up On the Roof," Jackie Ross' "Selfish One," the Marvellettes' "Too Many Fish in the Sea," and the one that no one ever forgets, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas' "Heat Wave." Later that year a special woman named Tamar turned me onto Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour" and Otis Redding's "Respect," and then came the soul. Meanwhile, I still went to bed to the sounds of the Byrds' "Mr. Tambourine Man" and later "Younger than Yesterday," still one of my favorite good-night albums. I woke up to Having a Rave-Up with the Yardbirds instead of coffee. And for a change of pace, there was always bluegrass: The Stanley Brothers, Bill Monroe, and Jimmy Martin.

Through college, I consumed sound as if it were the staff of life. Others enjoyed drugs, school, travel, adventure. I just liked music: listening to it, playing it, talking about it. If some followed the inspiration of acid, or Zen, or dropping out, I followed the spirit of rock'n'roll.

Individual songs often achieved the status of sacraments. One September, I was driving through Waltham looking for a new apartment when the sound on the car radio stunned me. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned it up, demanded silence of my friends and two minutes and fifty-six second later knew that God had spoken to me through the Four Tops' "Reach Out, I'll Be There," a record that I will cherish for as long as [I] live.

During those often lonely years, music was my constant companion and the search for the new record was like a search for a new friend and new revelation. "Mystic Eyes" open mine to whole new vistas in white rock and roll and there were days when I couldn't go to sleep without hearing it a dozen times.

Whether it was a neurotic and manic approach to music, or just a religious one, or both, I don't really care. I only know that, then, as now, I'm grateful to the artists who gave the experience to me and hope that I can always respond to them.

The records were, of course, only part of it. In '65 and '66 I played in a band, the Jellyroll, that never made it. At the time I concluded that I was too much of a perfectionist to work with the other band members; in the end I realized I was too much of an autocrat, unable to relate to other people enough to share music with them.

Realizing that I wasn't destined to play in a band, I gravitated to rock criticism. Starting with a few wretched pieces in Broadside and then some amateurish but convincing reviews in the earliest Crawdaddy, I at least found a substitute outlet for my desire to express myself about rock: If I couldn't cope with playing, I may have done better writing about it.

But in those days, I didn't see myself as a critic -- the writing was just another extension of an all-encompassing obsession. It carried over to my love for live music, which I cared for even more than the records. I went to the Club 47 three times a week and then hunted down the rock shows -- which weren't so easy to find because they weren't all conveniently located at downtown theatres. I flipped for the Animals' two-hour show at Rindge Tech; the Rolling Stones, not just at Boston Garden, where they did the best half hour rock'n'roll set I had ever seen, but at Lynn Football Stadium, where they started a riot; Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels overcoming the worst of performing conditions at Watpole Skating Rink; and the Beatles at Suffolk Down, plainly audible, beatiful to look at, and confirmation that we -- and I -- existed as a special body of people who understood the power and the flory of rock'n'roll.

I lived those days with a sense of anticipation. I worked in Briggs & Briggs a few summers and would know when the next albums were coming. The disappointment when the new Stones was a day late, the exhilaration when Another Side of Bob Dylan showed up a week early. The thrill of turning on WBZ and hearing some strange sound, both beautiful and horrible, but that demanded to be heard again; it turned out to be "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," a record that stands just behind "Reach Out I'll Be There" as means of musical catharsis.

My temperament being what it is, I often enjoyed hating as much as loving. That San Francisco shit corrupted the purity of the rock that I lvoed and I could have led a crusade against it. The Moby Grape moved me, but those songs about White Rabbits and hippie love made me laugh when they didn't make me sick. I found more rock'n'roll in the dubbed-in hysteria on the Rolling Stones Got Live if You Want It than on most San Francisco albums combined.

For every moment I remember there are a dozen I've forgotten, but I feel like they are with me on a night like this, a permanent part of my consciousness, a feeling lost on my mind but never on my soul. And then there are those individual experiences so transcendent that I can remember them as if they happened yesterday: Sam and Dave at the Soul Together at Madison Square Garden in 1967: every gesture, every movement, the order of the songs. I would give anything to hear them sing "When Something's Wrong with My Baby" just the way they did it that night.

The obsessions with Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and B.B. King came a little bit later; each occupied six months of my time, while I digested every nuance of every album. Like the Byrds, I turn to them today and still find, when I least expect it, something new, something deeply flet, something that speaks to me.

As I left college in 1969 and went into record production I started exhausting my seemingly insatiable appetite. I felt no less intensely than before about certain artists; I just felt that way about fewer of them. I not only became more discriminating but more indifferent. I found it especially hard to listen to new faces. I had accumulated enough musical experience to fall back on when I needed its companionship but during this period in my life I found I needed music less and people, whom I spend too much of my life ignoring, much more.

Today I listen to music with a certain measure of detachment. I'm a professional and I make my living commenting on it. There are months when I hate it, going through the routine just as a shoe salesman goes through his. I follow films with the passion that music once held for me. But in my own moments of greatest need, I never give up the search for sounds that can answer every impulse, consume all emotion, cleanse and purify -- all things that we have no right to expect from even the greatest works of art but which we can occasionally derive from them.

Still, today, if I hear a record I like it is no longer a signal for me to seek out every other that the artist has made. I take them as they come, love them, and leave them. Some have stuck -- a few that come quickly to mind are Neil Young's After the Goldrush, Stevie Wonder's Innervisions, Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey, James Taylor's records, Valerie Simpson's Exposed, Randy Newman's Sail Away, Exile on Main Street, Ry Cooder's records, and, very specially, the last three albums of Joni Mitchell -- but many more slip through the mind, making much fainter impressions than their counterparts of a decade ago.

But tonight there is someone I can write of the way I used to write, without reservations of any kind. Last Thursday, at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock'n'roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.

When his two-hour set ended I could only think, can anyone really be this good; can anyone say this much to me, can rock'n'roll still speak with this kind of power and glory? And then I felt the sores on my thighs where I had been pounding my hands in time for the entire concert and knew that the answer was yes.

Springsteen does it all. He is a rock'n'roll punk, a Latin street poet, a ballet dancer, an actor, a joker, bar band leader, hot-shit rhythm guitar player, extraordinary singer, and a truly great rock'n'roll composer. He leads a band like he has been doing it forever. I racked my brains but simply can't think of a white artist who does so many things so superbly. There is no one I would rather watch on a stage today. He opened with his fabulous party record "The E Street Shuffle" -- but he slowed it down so graphically that it seemed a new song and it worked as well as the old. He took his overpowering story of a suicide, "For You," and sang it with just piano accompaniment and a voice that rang out to the very last row of the Harvard Square theatre. He did three new songs, all of them street trash rockers, one even with a "Telstar" guitar introduction and an Eddie Cochran rhythm pattern. We missed hearing his "Four Winds Blow," done to a fare-thee-well at his sensational week-long gig at Charley's but "Rosalita" never sounded better and "Kitty's Back," one of the great contemporary shuffles, rocked me out of my chair, as I personally led the crowd to its feet and kept them there.

Bruce Springsteen is a wonder to look at. Skinny, dressed like a reject from Sha Na Na, he parades in front of his all-star rhythm band like a cross between Chuck Berry, early Bob Dylan, and Marlon Brando. Every gesture, every syllable adds something to his ultimate goal -- to liberate our spirit while he liberates his by baring his soul through his music. Many try, few succeed, none more than he today.

It's five o'clock now -- I write columns like this as fast as I can for fear I'll chicken out -- and I'm listening to "Kitty's Back." I do feel old but the record and my memory of the concert has made me feel a little younger. I still feel the spirit and it still moves me.

I bought a new home this week and upstairs in the bedroom is a sleeping beauty who understands only too well what I try to do with my records and typewriter. About rock'n'roll, the Lovin' Spoonful once sang, "I'll tell you about the magic that will free your soul/But it's like trying to tell a stranger about rock'n'roll." Last Thursday, I remembered that the magic still exists and as long as I write about rock, my mission is to tell a stranger about it -- just as long as I remember that I'm the stranger I'm writing for.

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ivyglow · 4 years

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Hostage - Jack Eichel | Buffalo Sabres

a/n: Sooooo I took too long to finish this piece, I'm kinda happy with what it turned out and I hope you guys like it. Again, a huge shout out to Naty who proofreaded everything, thank you @tsarinablogs !!! ❤️

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cursing; mention of toxic relationships.

note2: there is a note at the end of the piece. Please read it!! :) thanks. Oh- and you guys can read it listening to Hostage by Billie Eilish or Figures by Jessie Reyez.

Prompt: #11 ”we’re not just friends, and you known it!”

Do you know the line of really good friends but not enough to become best friends? Well, this line was something between Y/n and Jack. They were introduced to each other by a mutual friend and since day one they got along pretty well. He was funny and so was she. As time went by, the hangouts started to involve only the two of them, Jack always stopping by her house to talk, y/n always waiting to have dinner with him and so on. Maybe being able to draw the line was the main reason why Jack suggested what he did and why y/n accepted it. She liked him, more than a friend, but they were not close enough to become best friends and so things wouldn’t be messy if the deal did not work.

“How was he?” Jack asks while sipping his juice and looking at the TV screen. “I don’t know, he was ok, I mean we liked each other, but there wasn’t this kind of chemistry.” She murmurs, trying to bring back the memories of her first boyfriend. The topic was caused by a scene of the movie about two best friends becoming each other’s first relationship.

“Do I look like him?” he asks out of the blue, and she adjusts herself, trying to take a better look at his face as he fails to hide the thoughtfulness in his eyes.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know..just thinking if maybe you have a type” Jack jokes and y/n puffs the air out of her lungs, while drawing one of her fingers to his face to trail the sharp of his jawline. This close, looking from this angle, laying just like this, he looked like one of the many busts she was studying last week. So methodicly sculptured, sharp jaw, perfect mouth, like it was a work of art with so much mathematics involved, chasing perfection.

But the thing is: Jack wasn’t a sculpture at all. He was a human being and taking into consideration her beliefs his face was not created by science.

“He had short hair…,” it passes through her lips while still tracing his features, “the kind you can’t even thread through your fingers. And he wasn’t as funny, but he was loud and I thought it was sweet. He wasn’t into arts or movies in general, but, still, I liked him.”

“So, we’re pretty much different…” he concludes and she shakes her head.

“Even if he had your height, or identical hair, or eyes, you guys would never ever look alike.” Her voice was abruptly deep.

“He had zero empathy with my feelings…” she confesses, it took her so long to realize it, took many breakups until she realized the blame wasn’t on her. “I don’t know how to describe the way he made me feel guilty about my own decisions and…” Jack could not do the same, right?

In fact, she felt deeper when it came to Jack, and so it could indicate that once he hurt her, it would be way worse, but he would not, right?

The hockey player did not press her to keep talking, actually, he didn’t want to talk about the subject, didn’t want to imagine someone as good as y/n being hurt, so he just started curling a random strand of her hair on his finger and shifting his attention back to the TV.

…

It comes as no surprise that y/n was friends with almost the whole Buffalo Sabres’ team, she would go to every possible game and be able to talk about anything with them. So when they won and went to celebrate, of course she was there, excited to hug all of her friends and make some sassy comments about their game.

“Wayne!!!!!” y/n squeals to the tall black man in front of her. “That pass was amazing, damn!”

“You liked it?! Sam almost killed me, saying it was a dangerous move, ugh” he engulfs her small body in his large frame.

“It was not that bad, but mine was better..” Dominik stumbled in the talk putting his arm around y/n’s shoulders.

“Dom!!! Your game was not that bad today” she jokes standing in her tiptoes to give him a kiss in the cheek.

“What an insane game, I don’t know if I can celebrate properly, there’s so much adrenaline still…” he says while leaning in the bar bringing his friend’s body with.

“Ooooh, baby’s want to go home?!” Wayne pokes his side and the three of them laugh.

“By the way, where’s Jack?” y/n asks, already missing his curls and sense of humor.

She’s not the type of person who gets attached in a way that creates codependency, usually, she’s chill, but somehow with Jack, there’s this constant desire of being close, hold hands, hear his voice or at least know he’s thinking about her too.

But it’s not something she verbalizes, it’s one of the many things she keeps to herself, scared of scaring him, she prefers to let her feelings eat her inside than share it with him and create the slight possibility of an end of their affair.

“Hmmm...he’s...I think…” Waynes seems a little stressed to answer and when Dominik squeezes her shoulders she knows something is wrong. “What’s up, guys?”

Y/n turns to the left-winger player holding her and before she could press him to say something, there’s a loud commotion on one table close to them. The table of the players. The table where Jack just arrived with a girl hanging by his side.

He’s holding her by the waist, hands a little bit lower and bodies too close together. There’s this flush on his cheeks matching the visible bruise in his neck, none of them are from the game and y/n knows it the second her eyes caught it.

“Oh-” it’s the only sound she is able to make even though she wanted to say to both boys around her that it was okay, that her and Jack were just friends who sometimes happens to kiss and have sex, and share movie nights, and hold hands at private parties, and sleep together when the night feels lonely. Nothing more, just friends after all.

“Just ignore him, sweetheart” Wayne is not trying to defend his friend and it shows.

Her eyelids feel heavy and her breath caught in her throat like she just swallowed the slice of lemon in her cup. When it feels like her knees are giving it, the drink is not to blame this time.

“I’m okay” she whispers.

She can almost hear the voice of her girlfriends, telling her to let Jack go.

Oh, but boy, was she a stubborn girl.

The trio keeps talking and eventually, some other players and their girlfriends join the conversation. Jack and the girl make out for a few minutes and when he leaves the table to get a drink on the bar, he just smiles at y/n like nothing ever happened.

That night, unlike Jack, she went home alone and cried herself to sleep.

…

It was a Thursday afternoon, one week after the club incident, she had just arrived from class and was filling in her bullet journal, before taking a bath and starting to do her work. Today was a productive day, easily so, her mind was not focused on thinking about Jack or trying to figure out how to talk to him, what to tell him and how hurt she was. Y/n and Clarice, her best friend, went to study at the library. And being the social butterfly that she was, Clarice invited some other friends, one of them was this brunette boy from one of her classes and for the first time they talked about things other than university and due dates. He was a pretty nice guy and they exchanged numbers at the end of the study session.

Even though she had to constantly brush Jack off her mind, it was actually nice to enjoy someone else’s company and feel wanted.

The knocks on her door startled her and y/n left the bedroom, walking straight to the living room, asking herself who it could be.

“Eichel?” she furrowed her brows. It’s like someone punched her right into the chest and for some seconds the air seems far away from her body.

“Hey, I was just a little worried, you didn’t text me or anything…” he rocks back and forth in his heels a little stunned since she didn’t give space to him to get inside.

“I was...busy” the words ‘I’m sorry’ almost slipped through her lips.

“You’re free now?” he furrows his brows and y/n sighs lowly. “I actually got some stuff from university to do...if you don’t mind” the last part is said once his face drops a little. No one would have noticed, but she did because she knew his features like no one else.

“I don’t...I could use some Netflix and chill and keep you company?!” his lips are stretched into a small smile, the one he usually does when he’s suggesting something and he’s not sure the person is open to it. The one he does every time he fucks up, like he did the other week. The one that usually comes with the big blue eyes staring deep into her soul. The one that always is able to make her give up.

And this time is no different.

She steps aside giving him room to get inside.

“I’ll be in my room, I need some silence to work on this assignment” it’s her best strategy to avoid him or at least be able to have some minutes of productivity.

“Oh, I’ll be on my phone then,” he smiles, big this time. “You won’t even notice I’m in the same room.” he tries for a light joke but somehow it punches her right in the gut.

It was impossible for him to go unnoticed. At least in her world. He was so close to the center of it that sometimes she asked herself if he wasn’t the sun.

Well, in this solar system he was the sun and she was mercury, too close, almost melting, unable to receive others. He was the closest she could ever have and cold? She never felt it.

Jack made himself comfortable on her bed while she typed away on her laptop. Or tried to type away, because once or twice he would giggle to his cell phone or get up to get water or whatever.

“Can you please stop?!” she asked abruptly when it felt impossible to focus on her work.

“Sorryyyy” he smiles -big-, and turns his attention back to the phone.

After half an hour and three pages, she gets up to pee and stretches her body. Jack was engulfed by his phone, typing eagerly and too distracted to notice she was walking past. Well, who could blame him?! Probably, any other person in his situation would be distracted too, it’s not every time that his hookups are open to send nudes in the normal chat - usually, they would go for Snapchat or something like that.

“What the fuck?!” y/n stops in her tracks when her brain finally processes the image on the screen of his mobile. “Are you really sexting some random girl? In my house?!”

“I’m not sexting, we were talking and she happened to send a picture asking my opinion…”

“Of course, your opinion about how good her new bra looks!” her tone was angry covering how betrayed she felt.

‘Sis, he can’t even be named a cheater since you guys are not dating!’ this tiny voice inside her laughed at her feelings and remembered the bitter truth.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, ok?!” he rolls his eyes, suppressing the little smile in the corner of his lips.

“It is a damn huge deal!” she almost screams. “You can’t be that blind, Jack!”

“About what? I try my best to listen to you and do as you like and-”

“Oh my fucking god!” she grunts. “How do you pay attention to my feelings and try your best to listen to me after what you did last week?! And oh! That shit happened two months ago too and oh! I almost forgot every time you came up with a new shit that leaves me heartbroken and guess what?! You don’t come to talk to me about it, because you don’t even try to pretend that you fucking care with my feelings!”

“Oh- what the hell, y/n?! What’s that outburst about?! Are you really fighting me like this because of a random nude?!” he left the bed, standing right in front of her. The phone forgotten on the mattress.

“You don’t even get it, Jack…” she mutters, lips quivering.

“Well, then tell me and I will. We’re friends, y/n, we’re not supposed to have this kind of miscommunication-”

“We’re not just friends and you know it!” her voice a few tenths louder.

“And we’re not a couple either and you know it!” his voice is lower. Almost like he knew how deep that sentence could cut her heart.

‘See?! I told you!’ her gut screams inside her head, her own heart being the target of pity and laughs inside her.

“Get out, Jack” y/n sights.

“I’m just being hones-”

“GET OUT!” she screams, tired of his voice, tired of his cold heart, tired of him and most of all tired of how he made her feel. One minute in the top of the world and the other so low that rock bottom wouldn’t even live up to how she really felt.

Jack did not try to talk, or hug her, or say that he was wrong, maybe sorry?! He did nothing besides grabbing his phone and leave her house.

The indifference kicking hard one more time in the same spot that was bruised: her heart.

…

It’s been two weeks, Jack was on a road trip with the team and since the incident, he gave no signal of wanting to talk. So there was Clarice trying to make y/n realize that she deserved a lot more than someone like him.

“...And it feels like he’s the sun sometimes. I just feel cold and heartbroken now, you know?” Y/n grumbles laying on her bed and facing the ceiling.

“WhAT?!”

Clarice’s tone startles y/n.

“What?” she asks back.

“You can never ever make someone or something the sun of your system. It’s too dangerous, don’t you see it?!”

She stays silent for some seconds trying to absorb her friend’s words.

“It’s not like I have a choice though…” the voice that left her mouth was a strangled one, hoarse from all the cry and scream-on-the-pillow-session.

“You do! We always do. We have a choice when we decide that we won’t take that bullshit anymore, we will focus on ourselves and nothing less. Nothing can be the center of your life, not an object, not a goal, not a person and even less so a relationship, cause once some of these things are gone?! You’re broken, too.”

Clarice gives her a sympathetic look before going for a hug, she knew that it was exactly what y/n was needing, to feel warm with anything other than Jack and eventually learn to feel it by herself.

“I thought he was different…” she whispers.

“We all do, sweetie, we all do…” Clarice runs her fingers under y/n’s eyes trying to stop for some seconds the tears from falling. “But there’s this singer I really like and she says that it’s not our job to be someone else Karma. It’s not your job to fix him, you can help him with that, but first?! First, you need to heal yourself, we can’t lift others if we are on the ground as well.”

Y/n took the rest of the day to rest and cry a fucking river, as Justin would say. Clarice was staying with her during the week since the two had a college assignment together and y/n could use some company. Especially if her company would make her laugh every possible time and help her with sad thoughts. Y/n spent more time with the boy from her class, Daniel and she was happy to receive all his memes and trash-talk always.

It was almost midnight and she was deep in reading an article from college when her phone buzzed.

A message from Dominik.

It was a picture of him holding a really colorful and big cup of drink. The team was probably celebrating one more win.

Dominik: guess the name of this drink?”

Dominik: I’m kidding, don’t.

Dominik: It’s actually ‘Y/N‘, you have the name of a drink here lol can you believe it?!”

She giggled with her friend’s drunkenness and opened the photo again. He had this big smile, the one that makes your eyes almost close and his cheeks were red probably from the alcohol. In the background of the photo, however, there was a well-known figure laced with a girl.

Jack was kissing her and y/n wasn’t even surprised. She was hurt.

He wasn’t different at all and she felt silly for believing it for so long.

…

At the end of the week, when the team just landed in the city, y/n received a message from Jack.

Jack: Hey, just landed. Missing you like crazyyyy.

Jack: Can I go to your place?

Jack: we’re cool right?!

She sighed.

Some days without him and she was able to realize how fucked up things have been.

She was considering a date with Daniel, her classmate, and hopefully this time Jack was not going to stop it, not like he did the other times when she tried to make the “not-exclusive” deal work for both of them. He would always show up at her house and keep her in her bed until it was too late to go out or say so much bullshit she would end up cancelling it.

y/n: Come over, I need to talk indeed.

She just started to realize she had been a hostage of a lot of things, college, some feelings from her childhood, her toxic family, etc. So it felt enough of playing the soft one if she was having the opportunity to stop being held against her will.

It was twenty minutes before the knock on her door.

He was there, smile in the corner of his lips, just like he would do after messing up. She was going to forgive him because she was trying to love herself enough and to carry hurt was a burden she was not going to put in her backpack. In fact, keep the bad feelings would only make it worse.

She smiled back, slightly, almost invisible. But he saw it, not because he knew her face as nobody did, but because he was paying attention like never before.

“I missed you,” he mumbles entering the apartment.

“I don’t wanna take too long, Jack. I just want to be honest with you.”

“If it is about th-”

“No. Please, let me...let me just finish ok?!”

“Yeah, go ahead” he nodded.

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Not while I’m trying to heal. You can’t keep using me like that, can’t keep acting like I don’t have feelings, acting like seeing you in doubt did not kill me inside. I love you! You’re my friend, Jack, and that’s even worse cause it feels like I’m losing you twice. Just let me go, stop making my feelings hostage.”

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” She sights. “But you did. And I’m sorry Jack, but looking at you right now – the only thing I can think of is that you look exactly like him…”

“Who?” he furrows his brows.

“My first boyfriend, the one I once told you would never look alike.”

“And you never told me why you thought we were so different…”

“Because he didn’t care about me. He didn’t love me as much as I did and still, he kept me, I guess maybe because of the feeling of possessing someone, maybe afraid of loneliness…Still, he kept me hostage for long enough and I’m not letting you do the same.”

She handed him a box with some of his stuff that was at her place.

It was the first step and it was a small one, but she was trying to leave the place and the people that made her feel worse.

She was a hostage of a lot of things, some feelings from her childhood, her toxic family, Jack, but one by one, she was going to break the chains. It was enough of hurt and sorrow and madness, if she could stop being held against her will, she would.

note3: during this time and because of some events I realized I don't feel 100% ok writing about Jack, I decided to finish and publish this one in respect to the anon who asked (and I replied saying it was ok). So yeah, there's nothing about him in my inbox anymore and I just want to let you guys know that :) thanks.

#jack eichel #jack eichel request #buffalo sabres #nhl writing #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #angst #lot of notes sorry #my moodboards #mels writing

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frogsagainandagain · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar) Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Jin (Avatar) Additional Tags: Flowers, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homecoming Summary:

Katara liked the way his eyes shined gold in the light. She thought his hair would look better tied up, like Sokka’s, instead of shaggy and messy, and she could tell he didn’t come to the dance alone, boutonniere on his collar.

Part of Zutara Month 2020 Part 2

Day 1: Flowers

Click the Link Above or Read Below

She didn’t know him, meaning he was probably an upperclassman. She heard Sokka’s voice in her head. Always the older boys Katara, first Jet, then Haru, now this. She frowned. It wasn’t that she tried to go after older boys; it just happened, much to Aang’s disappointment. Perhaps it was something to do with her mothering nature. It was harder to mother boys three years her senior.

She glanced back at him, grinding his hips awkwardly, a trap beat blaring over the speakers. She tried not to notice what, or rather who, he was grinding his hips against. As awkward as he looked grinding against this girl (his date?) it would be a hell of a lot more awkward to be caught staring at him, so she moved her eyes, to something, anything else.

The lights flashed green as Suki ran up to Katara, “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you all night!” Suki motioned Sokka, quickly following behind her.

“Yeah! I need to keep my eye on you to make sure you don’t start dancing with any of these idiots!” Sokka exclaimed, “Any of these guys could easily ask you to dance any moment, but none of them are good enough for my little sister.”

“Sokka! I am old enough to dance with any guys of my choosing! You’re not in charge of me.”

“You might be old enough to dance, but you’re not old enough to ‘dance’,” he made quotation marks with his fingers, “like THAT!” pointing to the older boy Katara had her eye on earlier. He had fallen into a rhythm, moving with the beat, his grinding was less stiff and awkward and more pornographic.

Katara blushed. The bright colored lights hid her rouge.

“Zuko… always making a scene,” Sokka whispered to himself.

Suki giggled, “You’re just jealous that you aren’t a star athlete from unimaginable wealth”

“Not true! I’m a star athlete! And who cares if he’s rich? Not me.”

“Star chess player is not the same as a star athlete, Sokka”

Sokka crossed his arms as Suki and he continued to argue. Katara drowned them out, looking from her brother and his girlfriend back to the handsome stranger, Zuko. That’s what Sokka had said.

She had heard the rumors about Zuko. Transferred from a fancy private school here last year, apparently, he was a trained martial artist, and transferred those skills to the wrestling mat once he realized public schools don’t have martial arts teams. Placed third in the state for wrestling last year, best in school history. According to the rumors he was fluent in Japanese, his father was a higher-up in an oil company, and his uncle was a high-ranking military official. Although Katara knew of him, she had yet to see him, he didn’t have any social media to find pictures of him on. He also didn’t have any friends. Thus, Katara had almost two months at school without seeing the infamous transfer student. And despite all the rumors, no one had mentioned that he was absolutely stunning.

When Katara turned back to Sokka and Suki, they were gone, lost in the crowd of the dance. She grunted in frustration, heading to the bathroom to hopefully find someone she knew.

The bathroom lights are shown impossibly bright compared to the flashing colors of the dance, and the booming music was muted to a dull hush, amplified whenever someone opened the door to the crowded room. Katara’s eyes searched the room, for any familiar face, but she was still alone. She assumed her friends had left the dance early once they realized the events of Homecoming didn’t exactly line up with their innocent expectations. She sent a quick text to Valarie, asking where the girls went, before glancing at her reflection. Her lip gloss had lost all its glossiness. She dug into her bag to find the bottle, gently applying a second coat to her lips, when the bathroom opened once again, revealing the loud thumping beat, and something else? Crying. No. Sobbing.

Katara looked towards the door to see a young brunette girl stumble in, tears rolling down her face, makeup destroyed. She looked familiar, but Katara couldn’t place her. The girl’s friends soothed her, rubbing her back, hushing her sobs. “Jin, Jin, you gotta tell us what happened,” One girl whispered, to which another replied, “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Katara felt wrong for listening to their conversation but continued to touch up her makeup, pretending t ignore the scene next to her.

The sobs grew softer and softer until the girl finally choked out, “He called some other girl’s name. MAI. I thought we were really making a connection. I thought I was breaking through his shell, you know. We- we’ve been going out for a few weeks now, and I really thought we had something, but it turns out I was just a stand-in for some other girl. Mai.” Her sobs continued to fill the bathroom.

“Jin, don’t let it get to you. He’s just an asshole. YOu thought he had a soft heart, but it turns out his insides are just as cold as his exterior. Mai’s probably private school bitch, you’re so much better than that,” her friend reassured her. Katara’s head turned. Private school bitch? This was the girl Zuko was dancing with.

Katara began walking out the bathroom, but not before something was thrown at her, a corsage. “Throw that out for me on your way out,” the girl half-shouted, half-choked out.

She examined the corsage, it was beautiful and expensive. It was mostly made up of fire lilies, the orange flower complimented the deep blue dress the girl was wearing, while the band and ribbon was almost the exact shade of her dress. Katara threw the corsage into her bag as it buzzed. Valarie had responded that they were just on their way out to get ice cream.

Katara quickly scrambled to find her friends before they left, but as she was walking out she made eye-contact with a tall boy in the corner, Zuko. He smiled at her, looking very very lonely, fire lily boutonniere on his collar. She blushed, then continued walking.

All night, even while stuffing her face full of ice cream (blue moon flavor), she thought about the corsage burning a hole in her bag, and couldn’t help but dream of his face.

#zutara #zutara month 2020 #zutara month #zuko #katara #fanfic #fanfiction

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of Marvel: Week of March 4th, 2020

Best of this Week: Daredevil #19 (Legacy #631) - Chip Zdarsky, Marco Checchetto, Mattia Iacono and Clayton Cowles

Daredevil was dead.

After Daredevil miscalculated a baton throw which saw him accidentally kill a criminal, Matt Murdock has been on a path of redemption - hanging up his cowl as Daredevil to become something better, someone that Hell’s Kitchen could truly look to as a savior now that the legacy of Daredevil was tarnished by a horrible mistake. Matt looked to God and retired for a time, then Elektra sought to pick him up from his wallowing. With her help, he became something else, not quite Daredevil, but not Matt Murdock either.

But this grey area he operated in wasn’t working either, especially since Hell’s Kitchen was under new threats in The Owl and the insanely rich Stromwyn Twins that not even Kingpin could strike fear into. After convincing the enemy of vigilantes, Detective Cole North, to step up and stand against the tyranny of his corrupt police force, the pair seek to clean up Hell’s Kitchen, but they couldn’t anticipate the Inferno about to rain down on them.

The issue begins with an opening salvo of villains, Crossbones, Bullseye, Bullet and Rhino “Alex O’Hirn,” tearing through the streets. Checchetto does an excellent job of emphasizing the carnage that these four are capable of with Bullet pushing a car over, Rhino causing debris to fly in the background simbly by stomping and Bullseye and Crossbones just looking generally terrifying with knives and a grenade launcher respectively. Iacono does an excellent job of showing the carnage through vibrant orange embers in the foreground that contrast the bright blue sky in the background.

Zdarsky does well in showing the scale of the carnage as various people from Hell’s Kitchen watch the destruction take place in their town. Hector, the hispanic Daredevil impersonator from several issues back, sees the explosions and digs out his costume to help and so too does Janet, one of the first to assume the identity of Daredevil post his disappearance. Both characters see the destruction of their home and step up to protect it. More on that as we go on.

Truly, no one is safe whenever Bullseye shows up to the party and Zdarsky and Checchetto, emphasize just that as a woman tries to save her child and Bullseyes shoots the man trying to save her from the carnage. When Bullet lambasts him for killing the innocent man, Bullseye claims that he was only trying to spook her because she was, “...going to throw a baby at [him].” I won't lie and say that it didn’t make me laugh, but it came out of the blue and shows Zdarsky knows how to do Bullseye’s demented humor well, especially as Chechetto draws his terrifying grins.

In the midst of all of the carnage, Z-List villain, Stilt-Man, shows up and his appearance is one of the most devastating pages in the book as all of the art team comes together amazingly. One of the metallic stilts comes down in front of the car that North and Murdock are using to get into the Kitchen and the force of it is intense! Chcechetto makes excellent use of speed lines, glass shattering, car crumpling and Matt FLYING through the destroyed windshield to sell the impact.

Iacono colors the background with a dark red and black to emphasize how devastating this was as well as the dust from the concrete that was blown up by it. Clayton Cowles pulls it all together with amazing “KRNCH” and “KRSHH” sound effect lettering, made transparent to see everything and make readers feel like they were in the car with them. It hurts and I feel like my body is aching from it.

Crossbones shoots more grenades and sends the few cops ignoring the order to stay out of Hell’s Kitchen flying as only their silhouettes are shown in the ensuing explosion. Hector, however, decides to tango with Bullseye after tackling to keep him from shooting more people. The fight is painfully one-sided with Bullseye stabbing him in the gut with ease. It’s painful, it’s distressing because moment earlier, we saw the poor man helping his elderly father before things went south.

Other major players see the attack on the Kitchen with different eyes. The Owl sees this as an opportunity to rid himself of the non-dirty cops and get more business through the protection money they’ll pay to avoid this again. The Owl has always been a weird criminal mastermind, but Zdarksy has turned him into a madman bent on owning Hell’s Kitchen through the chaos and fire as he leaps and flies into the thick of it.

Elsewhere, Rhino is destroying his way through the city and makes it to the Church that Matt Murdock used to call his other home and gives the nun, Sister Elizabeth, ten minutes to clear the church before he bulldozes it. When Elizabeth was first introduced so many issues ago, I thought she was just another run-of-the-mill nun for Matt to heave his crisis of faith woes on, but Zdarsky gives us an exciting return through some excellent symbolism.

Chechetto does well with subtlety giving the smallest hint when Elizabeth lights a candle and then more light by themselves with Cowles small “fwot” effects dotting the page. Iacono obscures half of her face with dark blacks before it’s revealed to be Typhoid Mary with a demented smile. Mary was last seen in the (mostly awful) Typhoid Fever storyline in which the Mary personality was suppressed by the combined might of Iron Fist and the X-Men. At some point it seems as though Matt placed her there, but in the chaos things seem to crumble.

Of course, the most telling reaction is the look of utter dejection from Wilson Fisk, the former Kingpin. It’s not a look of anger, nor is he smiling, he looks defeated and in many ways, the state of things is his fault. Wilson Fisk became the Mayor of New York City and slowly washed his hands of all of his illicit activity, leaving things to the other families of New York. Under Fisk, the crime was at a reasonable level, but between the gang war of the Owl and the Libris family and the Stromwyn real estate scheme, things have become absolutely dire in his absence.

Bringing us back to Hector, soon after the stabbing, Chechetto delights readers with an amazing shot of the various citizens of Hell’s Kitchen with makeshift weapons and Daredevil masks. They tell the criminals to get out of their neighborhood, not hesitating to swing baseball bats at known terrorists and mercenaries like Crossbones. These are Daredevil’s people and just like him, they stand for what’s their and won’t see these thugs destroy it all. Even Detective North hits a devastating right to Bullet’s jaw.

Checchetto and Iacono come together with two excellent pages of Matt Murdock and the people around him. As Hector struggles to get to Matt, we see his own strength as the blood streams from him as the background is mostly black and red from the fires, but shows brighter oranges around the pair. His last words were, “I tried…” as the blood spurts out of his mouth while Matt holds him in his final moments. Murdock had saved Hector previously after the brave citizen stepped up, but didn’t make it in time this time.

All around him, Checchetto draws Matt visualizing the people of Hell’s Kitchen fighting back and saving people wearing his mask. Checchetto pulls in close to Mudock’s face as he removes the black bandana that he used as a mask and sheds a tear for Hector. He realizes that Daredevil is a symbol and it’s a symbol bigger than him because the people have taken it and made it theirs. Made it something to be proud of outside of him.

Matt Murdock’s greatest sins are Pride and selfishness. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and feels like no one else but him can do it. This entire series thus far has been about breaking him down using his guilt as a driving force for his actions. The black bandana took him back to his roots as Elektra and Detective North rebuilt him through his senses and sense of duty - his body and mind respectively.

It wasn’t until he saw what Daredevil truly stood for in the eyes of the people that he could retake his name and become the hero that they needed him to be and the final few pages are powerful.

Chip Zdarsky absolutely slams this amazing issue by building to an epic conclusion with the first of hopefully many stories that he has for the Hero of Hell’s Kitchen. Without a doubt, Marco Checchetto and Mattia Iacono make for the perfect art team with dynamic visuals and colors that almost make you want to cry. Clayton Cowles stuns with excellent speech bubble placement and AMAZING sound effects throughout.

If I had a proper rating system, this book would be damn near PERFECT and I stand by that and this series as a whole.

Also, support me on Patreon:

patreon.com/TyTalksComics

#daredevil #matt murdock #hells kitchen #crossbones #bullseye #typhoid mary #marvel comics #marvel #chip zdarsky #marco checchetto #mattia iacono

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elvendara · 6 years

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Day 26/April Challenge

Second Yooran AU is my University AU. This one is long and kinda all over the place, and I’m probably going to change the end.

He meant well, he always did, and honestly, if it hadn't been for Saeyoung, Saeran would probably be dead by now. He'd made good on his promise. He got them away from their mother. Whatever his job was, it allowed him to create new identities for them both. Saeran was adamant that he wanted to keep his real first name, but Saeyoung changed his to Luciel. Most of the time though, he just went by Seven. It suited him.

Luciel and Saeran Choi they had become. He'd also added a few years to his own age so that there would be no questions about how he was Saeran's legal guardian, at least, on paper, because one look at them and it was obvious that they were twins. Thankfully, Seven was a master at working through phone and internet. He'd enrolled Saeran into public school and tried to give him as normal a life as he could.

Saeran fought him at first. He wanted to stay close to his brother, he was too afraid of the world outside, fearing that it would only lead to more pain. Slowly, however, he found that he was getting healthier, and that other people would not necessarily hurt him. There were some instances where he had been bullied because of his shyness and his introverted tendencies. Soon enough though, he learned that he had a real talent for sports. He enjoyed the physical strain, the competition, the ball in his hand. Baseball became his main focus and because he was skilled and worked hard to get better, the coaches loved him, and so did his team mates. In fact, he was so good, he earned a scholarship to a university. Seven encouraged him to continue his education and play ball. Those who once bullied him began to praise him. Initially, he had enjoyed the new treatment. Eventually, he understood that it was not him they now liked, but his new popularity.

When he began university, Seven had talked him into living with his team on campus so that he could make some real friends. It was still difficult for Saeran in that department. He preferred to spend most of his time by himself or with his brother. He stayed in the dorm to make Seven happy, but, he simply went through the motions. He wasn’t unhappy, he just did not care for the lifestyle most of his team mates preferred. He would drink, but not to excess, he'd tried pot, it was something he enjoyed doing alone, he was hit on a lot by university girls, which, brought him to the one aspect that was a sticking point for him. He was gay. Had always been gay, had never had any doubts gay. His team mates would try to get him laid, but he always fended them off. Most of the time, the girls were so drunk, they didn't remember if he'd been receptive or not.

He'd never tried to have a relationship, never even really had a crush on anyone. He was happy with his baseball, his art, and his brother. It did not bother him in the least that he had no one else close to him. It made things easier for him as well. It was not a secret that most of his team mates disdained anyone whose sexual orientation did not fit their idea of masculinity. They threw the word 'gay' around like a whip, hitting anyone and everyone with it.

His only sexual experience had been with one of his team mates in high school who he had invited home just to shut his brother up. They had spent time in his room, playing video games and at some point, he had placed his hand on Saeran's crotch as if it was no big deal. He'd asked Saeran if he wanted a blow job and Saeran was too stunned to answer. The boy took that as assent and began to do just that. He'd enjoyed it, but it felt awkward. He tried it himself on the other boy. The next day, the boy ignored him and never really spoke to him again. Saeran was embarrassed and ashamed, he hadn't even told Seven, even though he told him everything. Since then, he had maintained his unspoken rule of no touching. Or at least, minimal touching.

Currently, he stood in a large hallway at a local MegaCon that his teammates had pressured him into going to. It wasn't that they enjoyed video games, or anime, it was in order to make fun of all the cosplayers and nerds. He'd already witnessed a lot of bullying and name calling. He was embarrassed to be in their group, but he didn't know what to do. He had nothing against anyone who attended the Con. In fact, he played with Seven sometimes. It was a great stress relief for him. He wasn't into it as much as his brother, he could easily see Seven dressing up and attending something like this, if he ever actually left the house.

He stepped away from the group and idly walked around, distancing himself from the pack. There was a loud commotion that drew his attention from one of the many rooms. The doors were open wide and the sign in front read "LOLOL Tournament 3 p.m - finish" Saeran grinned. He was very familiar with LOLOL. It was one of Seven's favorite roleplaying games to play. He was rather proud of his #1 ranking on the Shooting Star server. Whenever anyone came close to unseating him from his throne, he would go on the warpath and sometimes take Saeran along with him. He was very serious about his title.

He walked inside. There was a large crowd around two different sections of the room. There were several computer stations with dividers between them. Most were now empty. Only two appeared to still occupy a player. The crowd was too thick for him to see them, but there were large TV's on the wall that showed the player's avatars in game. Saeran grinned, thinking about how he was going to tease his brother about this. He would have loved to compete. But, his work made it impossible for him to stand out in any way to the general public.

One of the avatars was a large barbarian with plate mail and a gigantic maul. The other was a tall, thin, elf with chainmail. His weapon was a halberd that was twice its size. Saeran blinked. It was unusual for the cleric class to dominate one on one. Usually, they were a supporting class. He was impressed that this player had made it to the top two as a cleric. He must have amazing strategic skills.

The screen changed, showing the competitors themselves. On the left screen there was a mousy brown-haired boy that couldn't be more than 18 if that. His face glistened with sweat, his brown eyes shiny with determination. His teeth were clenched, his eyes darting rapidly across his screen.

Saeran's eyes shifted to the screen on the right and his breath hitched, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He'd never seen anything more beautiful. The boy was slender, his large headphones almost disappearing into his blonde fluffy hair. He could see the darker roots near his scalp. His complexion was pale, accentuating his large amethyst eyes and pink lips. He was biting his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring as his eyes also scanned rapidly across his monitor. His tongue peeked out and licked his lips. He used the sleeve of his faded blue hoodie to wipe sweat that began to drip into his eyes. He blinked furiously, his long lashes fluttering.

Saeran quickly scanned through the crowd, standing on his tip toes until he thought he saw the flash of yellow hair in the center. He wanted to push his way through, wanted to see this sunshine in all its splendor, but he knew the tightly packed mob would never let him through. Instead, he made his way to the podium where the trophies were lined up and where, presumably, the winners would be displayed. He wrung his hands nervously as he stared at the screens on the wall, waiting for any glimpse of the boy. He tried to tell himself that this was ridiculous. Love at first sight was not a real thing. And, honestly, this was probably lust anyway. Just because he'd never felt it before, didn't mean anything.

He looked away and thought about leaving all together. He wasn't equipped to deal with these feelings. His heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty. He swallowed with great difficulty and his breath lodged in his throat once more as the image of the blonde boy appeared, his lavender eyes wide, a small grin on his face as he saw victory in his grasp. Sure enough, there was a giant eruption of cheering from the crowd around him, a chant rising in volume, “Yoosung! Yoosung! Yoosung!” Saeran’s chest constricted, was that his name? Or the name of his avatar? Yoosung…why did it sound familiar? Like he’d heard it before? He shook his head, trying to dislodge these new feelings. They clung to him, settling into his skin, into his heart, into his head, growing roots deep into his psyche. Both screens now showed only the blonde, his smile from ear to ear, his hair in disarray, arm up in victory.

Saeran closed his eyes and turned quickly, no, he couldn’t deal with this, it was too much. Unfortunately, the mob descended on his area and he was pushed back towards the podium, up to the red rope around it. He tried to tune out the uproar, to try and steady his breathing. He hadn’t brought his medication, thinking he would not need it. He hadn’t for a long time now. He regretted that decision. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to turn. He saw a flash of blonde and he focused on the boy with the widest grin in the world, he focused on his eyes, trying to figure out exactly what shade of purple they were. He noted a touch of pink around the edges. The boy made eye contact and suddenly his smile was gone. Saeran narrowed his eyes questioningly. The boy’s mouth thinned into a hard line and he jerked his eyes away, Saeran could have sworn they had begun to fill with tears.

Why would he begin to cry because of Saeran? Now he was just confused. He watched him step up to the top spot, the brown-haired boy to his right, and a curly-haired brunette to his left. He avoided eye contact, but Saeran could still see he was distressed. His jubilance of a moment ago completely gone. He tried to smile at those in front of him, but it was strained and off. Saeran blinked rapidly, wondering what he could have done to elicit that kind of reaction. His own eyes began to tear up. He’d only wanted to talk to the boy. To figure out what he’d felt in that moment. To understand if it was something they could share. He shook his head, already knowing the answer.

He watched him anyway, enjoying this brief instance before he walked away forever. They presented him with a giant trophy and his grin was once more back, his joy effervescent. He glowed with happiness and triumph. He was surrounded by friends who cheered for him, who looked genuinely thrilled for him. Saeran smiled sadly, his hands shaking by his side. He could never have that. He would never be that happy. He wanted to bask in his glow. He wanted to reach out and run the back of his fingers along his cheek. He wondered what those pink lips would taste like. He let himself fall into the fantasy. Let himself believe he could have something so bright, something so beautiful.

He didn’t know how long the pomp and circumstance lasted, at one point they had set a crown on the boy’s head and the crowd had cheered. It began to disperse suddenly, flooding away from Saeran before he even knew it. Only the blonde’s friends remained, but his eyes remained focused on only Saeran. He found that he couldn’t move, his feet planted to the floor. He saw the blonde straighten his shoulders, a look of resolve crossing his face. He held his trophy in front of him like a shield then stalked towards Saeran.

Saeran took a step back, not sure what he intended to do with the heavy looking weapon in his hands. He stopped just on the other side of the rope and glared at him.

“What do you want now? Come to finish what your friends started?” he gripped the trophy so tight his knuckles were white. His eyes glistened, and his bottom lip trembled, but he faced Saeran with determination, even if his voice cracked. Saeran blinked, a conflicting and enormous amount of emotions playing out within him. Hearing the boy’s voice was thrilling, it was soft, sweet, and melodic, with a touch of edginess to it. But, his words were like a dagger to his heart. His team mates! Of course, that was why he could be hated so easily.

“I…no…I didn’t…I mean…” Saeran took another step back.

“Let him have it Yoosung!”

“Give him hell!”

“You tell him!”

Saeran wanted to run, wanted to fold in on himself, but he couldn’t look away from those eyes. How could he tell this beautiful angry boy that he only wanted to talk to him? To spend time with him. To get to know him. To explore these new, unknown feelings. To see him smile, to hear him laugh, to hold his hand? How? He sputtered, unable to form any coherent sounds.

“Not so brave without your friends, are you?” Yoosung stepped over the rope and loomed towards Saeran, who kept taking small steps backwards.

“No, it’s not…I didn’t…” Saeran tried to say, but what could he really say? That he hadn’t participated in the bullying his team mates had done? That he’d stood by, letting it happen, not helping anyone? That he’d had several chances to tell them they shouldn’t be assholes? He was just as guilty, and he knew it. Whether he had participated or not did not matter. He had let it happen without voicing any complaint. He hung his head, he deserved Yoosung’s anger.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. The hot tears fell from the tip of his nose onto the floor, splashing silently. His hands formed fists and he turned away, leaving the light behind him and ran back into the darkness. He cloaked himself in the shadows that had become his only friends. It was comfortable here, away from any painful feelings. He ran down the hall and out the doors. The night was settling in, the cool breeze hitting his face. He felt the wetness of his tears across his cheeks. He wiped at them angrily and stalked down the stairs towards the long row of taxi’s. He jumped into the first one he saw and gave the man his brother’s address.

Saeran squeezed his hands together in front of him. He let the tears fall, not caring if the taxi driver saw. He tried to steady his heart, to get his breathing under control so that he wouldn’t fall into the grip of his anxiety. He tried the relaxation techniques his therapist had shown him, but the only thing he could visualize now were those amethyst eyes glaring at him. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth painfully. He balled up his fists and started smacking himself in the head as he rocked back and forth.

“Hey! Hey now! Do I need to pull over?” the taxi driver watched his passenger warily.

“No! No, please, just…get me there!” he pleaded.

It must have been good enough for the man, as he settled back into his drive, now glancing at his rearview mirror with more worry than anything.

“Is someone there to help you?” he asked gently.

Saeran nodded, “My brother. My brother.”

The man nodded back with a sigh of relief. Saeran lay his forehead against the cold glass and wept silently.

When they pulled up to the house, Saeran paid the man and gave him a probably too large tip. He didn’t care. The man had been kind and gentle when most people would have treated him roughly.

He punched in the security code of the house and waved to the man. He had waited until the door opened before leaving. Saeran smiled sadly to himself, wondering at the generosity of some people. He walked in, right past the kitchen, the living room, and straight into his room. Seven kept it clean and ready for him always. Saeran would often spend the weekend in the house. He crawled under the clean sheets and buried himself in them. He should take his medication, there was always some in the bathroom, but he just wanted to fade away, to lose himself in oblivion.

He heard the door open slowly and he squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the sheet over his head. He wished he had a thick blanket he could hide under, but he thin sheet would have to do.

“Saeran?” Seven spoke softly, sitting at the edge of his bed. Saeran didn’t answer him, instead, he curled himself into as small a ball as he could. It was a sign Seven easily recognized. He stood and walked out only to return almost immediately. He set something down on Saeran’s night stand. Placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, he squeezed gently, then patted him lightly before walking out and leaving him alone. He closed the door softly behind him. When he heard the click, Saeran turned over and saw a water glass and his medication. He reached over and shook two pills out, swallowing them easily. He placed the half-filled water glass back on his night stand and resumed his fetal position. Soon, he was deep in a drug filled sleep, amethyst eyes chasing him. Saeran’s mind turned the boy into someone that loved him. He let Yoosung catch him, let him take him, let him have whatever he wanted from him, even if it was pain.

…………………………………………

Saeran’s eyes were heavy. He’d cried so much, they were glued together and puffy. His head ached, and he knew it was going to take all day to feel any better. He didn’t care. He wanted desperately to fall back into his dreams. At least in there, he could be with Yoosung. He sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. He smelled bacon and he sat up. Seven was cooking? That couldn’t be good. He jumped out of bed and took a quick shower in his bathroom. Once he was in some clean clothes, he finally ventured into the kitchen. It was still in one piece, that was good.

“Good morning! Or should I say, good afternoon!” his brother’s voice was too loud and Saeran just sat at the kitchen table and groaned.

Seven set a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of him, plus a cup of coffee. Saeran took both gratefully with a grunt.

“I’ll take that as a thank you.” Seven smirked, sitting down with his own plate and cup. “There wasn’t much in the house, so I went out this morning to get some groceries.

Saeran arched an eyebrow.

“What? I go out!”

Both eyebrows were now up.

“Just eat your eggs!” Saeran tucked in, he felt famished.

After a few minutes of silence, Seven asked, “Want to talk about it?”

Saeran shook his head.

“Ok, well, you know you can always talk to me.”

Saeran nodded absently. “Can I stay here a while?” he asked.

“Of course you can Saeran, this is your home, it always will be.” Seven assured him. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” he prodded gently.

Saeran shrugged. He felt the sting of tears again and he tried to keep them at bay. He set his fork down and lay his head on his hands weeping. Seven was up instantly, his arms around his brother, holding him tight. Saeran brokenly told him what had happened, how he’d felt, and how he would never again see that beautiful boy who looked at him with such disdain. How he felt guilty and helpless. How he felt heart broken and alone. It had always been easy to confide in his brother. He’d always been the only person who truly understood Saeran.

“Oh Saeran, I’m so sorry! But, you can’t give up that easily! You can’t just walk away from your feelings like that.”

Saeran pulled away from his brother and wiped his tears away with his sleeves.

“You’re one to talk. When was the last time you were out with anyone?” he threw back at him.

“That’s different. You know that! My job doesn’t allow me to have much of a personal life.” Seven looked away, taking a seat next to Saeran.

“It isn’t your job Seven, it’s you, it’s me. We…we’re no good at relationships.” He hung his head, Seven didn’t argue.

“Whatever happened with that guy you were talking to online? I thought you really liked him?” Saeran asked.

Seven shrugged, “He lives in Europe, plus, I found out he was married.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No big deal, I mean, it wasn’t as if I was going to skip off to London to see him or anything!” he grinned.

Saeran scoffed at him. “What about that girl you met during your last mission? She was cute.” Seven had shown him a picture of the woman he had worked with, she was blonde, petite, and dangerous.

“Oh, well, she was a little too much for me.” He laughed. “It was fun, for a few weeks, but, not for a lifetime.” Seven sighed. “You know you deserve to be happy, don’t you?”

“What about you? Don’t we both deserve to be happy? I hate it that you sit in that small room all day and night. That can’t be all that you want out of life.”

“I live through you little brother.” Seven grinned.

“Don’t do that. You know I would do anything for you, and I have. But, Seven…I…”

“Are you truly that unhappy where you are? I was hoping you would make some friends, come out of your shell a little. I know you love playing baseball, but, there’s so much more to life than just sports.”

“I’m not unhappy. I just, don’t fit in. They tolerate me at best. Because they need me. But I see the way they look at me, like…like I’m a weirdo. And, worst of all, I still can’t be myself around them.” He looked away. He hadn’t meant to burden his brother with any of this, but that blonde had him reeling emotionally.

“You can come home then. If that’s what you want. But, I still think you should find this boy. Try again.”

Saeran was already shaking his head before Seven even finished.

“I tell you what. You try again, and so will I. Uh, where do you go to meet girls? Or boys? Or, someone, these days?” he asked.

Saeran laughed genuinely.

“Maybe a cheerleader at one of your games? I understand they are very sexy!” Seven wiggled his eyebrows.

Saeran pushed at him, “Idiot, there aren’t any cheerleaders in baseball! But, I might know someone! She’d be perfect for you.”

“Really?” Seven was taken aback.

“Really.”

“Ok, then, do we have a deal?” Seven held his hand out. Saeran nibbled on his lower lip. He didn’t know if he could take it if Yoosung rejected him again. But, he thought it would be worth it. Even if it was only to help his brother find some happiness for himself. He reached out and took Seven’s hand, shaking it forcefully. They had a deal.

I know some people may find Saeran’s reaction over the top, dramatic, or unrealistic. However, keep in mind, he is 22/23 years old and has never felt this kind of attraction. It’s new, it’s powerful, it’s confusing, and he doesn’t have the skill set to process it.

#my posts #yooran #yoosung #saeran #saeyoung #university au #mm university au #number 2 #April Challenge #I have no art for this one #my brain just won't stop #sorry to vomit my silly ideas all over Tumblr #=}#mystic messenger

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Malcolm & Marie and the Rise of Quarantine Filmmaking in COVID

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At the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, a time when accomplishing even the simplest tasks had taken on the burden of the impossible, Netflix’s “secret pandemic movie,” Malcolm & Marie, became a way to process a year of stalled projects and compromised creative control. A Deadline feature retraced how Zendaya, one half of the two-hander’s cast, reached out to Euphoria creator Sam Levinson with the plea for a self-contained project when COVID delayed the HBO drama’s new season.

As Levinson rushed to write a script based loosely on his own experiences of failing to thank his wife at a movie premiere, he and Zendaya brought on Tenet star John David Washington for a movie at the complete opposite end of the spectrum from Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster; the Euphoria crew, in a COVID bubble in California, were able to keep working for a few weeks in June 2020 when so many others were laid off. What they created was a passionate, claustrophobic black-and-white relationship drama that has the rare distinction of being created during a pandemic while its story still reflects life before the virus.

On its own, Malcolm & Marie falls somewhat short of Oscar bait expectations. However, the film takes on greater nuance when considered in the context of the growing subgenre of post-lockdown movies. While this may ultimately prove to be a short-lived category of filmmaking, it already includes four incredibly varied films. Even if they all started with the same universal constraints—COVID tests and social distancing, small casts instead of big—they make for radically different statements about human connection (either during the pandemic or not), futility, about purpose.

In fact, you can plot these four movies over the axes of ignoring COVID versus acknowledging COVID in their actual plots, and closeness versus distance in the execution of said stories.

Malcolm & Marie

Ignoring the Virus and Embracing the Closeness of Quarantine

What’s immediately ironic about Malcolm & Marie is that its setting is anathema to our current situation: The eponymous couple come home from a movie premiere (remember those?), where he (Washington) is being celebrated as a rising Hollywood talent, and she (Zendaya)—an amateur actress, a recovering drug addict, definitely not a model—has been reduced merely to his loyal girlfriend. Their feature film-length fight might take place within the bounds of their spacious rented house, but every source of conflict and sticking point exists out in a non-pandemic world.

At the same time, the viewer is tangentially aware of the real-world limitations in filming this movie, i.e. the need to stay in one setting with only two players. The inability to leave that house–except for Marie’s desperate little steps of leaning out the window to smoke or of that ambiguous ending–is authentic to anyone who has been stuck in a relationship-defining fight: There are no shortcuts, no escapes; the only option is to see it through to the ugly end, only to watch the toxic cycle start all over again.

The actors’ close attention and shaping of their roles lends Malcolm and Marie’s relationship real intimacy, but it also contributes to the sheer exhaustion of watching these young lovers metaphorically eat their own tails without getting anywhere. Despite Malcolm’s appalling outbursts and Marie’s stunning monologues, nothing really changes; even his quiet “I’m sorry” at the end is a puny concession after all that emotional effort.

In fact, this ouroboros feels most like a reflection of the endlessly unfruitful fights that many a couple has experienced since lockdown began.

Locked Down

Acknowledging the Virus and Embracing the Closeness of Quarantine

By contrast, Mr. & Mrs. Smith director Doug Liman’s Locked Down casts its marquee stars (Anne Hathaway and Chiwetel Ejiofor) as ordinary people in the extraordinary circumstances of early 2020, when a pandemic that people still didn’t fully understand reshaped their home into a workspace, and work into a prison rather than an outlet. Steven Knight’s script—written in July 2020, on a dare—carries so many authentic field notes that it’s almost difficult to watch. You feel it from Zoom fatigue, with wine o’clock creeping up into the AM, to people talking over one another on video calls where they’re ostensibly checking in on each other.

Liman also employed the same amusing device used by the Parks and Recreation COVID special, in which real-life couples had to explain why their characters happened to be inhabiting the same physical space during this era of highly negotiating personal contact. In Locked Down, it’s Psych star Dulé Hill and his costar (and real-life wife) Jazmyn Simon as the sympathetic American counterparts to Linda (Hathaway) and Paxton (Ejiofor), an American and a Brit who are not holding up well enough in quarantine. (A bevy of cameos, including Mark Gatiss, Mindy Kaling, Ben Kingsley, and more also scratches that itch of wondering what celebrities’ homes might look like.)

Paxton and Linda’s marriage seems to have ended around Christmas 2019, but being stuck in their flat just as the pandemic hit—he’s a driver unable to work while she’s a CEO who has the excruciating duty of firing her “family” of coworkers over Zoom—has beaten their senses of purpose to a pulp. Paxton attempts to make up for that by making the masked grocery runs and trying to connect with his neighbors through shouted evening poetry, but he’s suffering the all-too-familiar depression of the furloughed. Linda isn’t far behind when she finally confronts the soullessness of her corporate job.

When fate delivers the incredible coincidence of Linda overseeing the load-out of a priceless diamond from Harrods—with Paxton assigned to transport the goods—the estranged couple decide to embark on a heist, because truly what else are you going to do during a pandemic? Ultimately, Locked Down does a better job with the romantic dramedy aspect than the heist, yet its use of the iconic London department store is as ambitious as Ocean’s 8 with the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Though there are more twists to the movie’s character studies than the logistics of nicking the diamond, the scenes in which Linda and Paxton stroll through the deserted Harrods food court—which arguably carries just as many culinary treasures—provide that same breathless sense of getting away with something.

Both films were made with unprecedented levels of safety and sacrifice, which regardless of the final products’ quality will always set them apart from pre-COVID entertainment as successes in filmmaking. But then there are the COVID films that have embraced social distancing, building it into a plot point or stylistic device rather than employing movie magic to obscure it.

Host

Acknowledging the Virus and Embracing Social Distancing

Interestingly, one of Levinson’s early pitches to Zendaya was a horror film, although of course they eventually pivoted to relationship drama. Fortunately, another enterprising group of creatives went the horror route, and they managed to fold in a poignant tale of female friendship over digital distances in 2020’s Host.

A British found footage successor to Paranormal Activity told entirely over Zoom, this indie tale has a shockingly reasonable premise: Five girlfriends, bored to tears during lockdown, decide to conduct a séance. (Again, what else are you going to do?) But when sarcastic Jemma (Jemma Moore) fakes a backstory about a suicidal friend and their medium Seylan (Seylan Baxter) mysteriously drops the call, the girls are on their own as a demonic force crosses over into the physical plane… and into each of their flats.

Movies

Upcoming Movies in February 2021: Streaming, VOD, and Theaters

By David Crow

Movies

Jurassic World 3 Photos Released as Production Resumes

By David Crow

In the past year, we’ve all learned that Zoom calls can be awkward, boring, and occasionally revelatory—but this is the first time they’re truly scary. Host utilizes the familiar horror tropes of darkened rooms and whispered panting at the slightest of suspicious noises, but it takes on an utterly disturbing dimension when it’s five young women, in the prime of their lives, are all trapped at home apart from one another—not even that far, as Jemma and séance enthusiast Haley (Haley Bishop) live within walking distance of each other.

In found footage fashion, there are plenty of Paranormal Activity-esque moments of people getting dragged or lifted by otherworldly forces. Kudos to director and co-writer Rob Savage for remotely directing his actors, who had to learn how to do the aforementioned practical effects inside their own homes. But where Host is scariest is when it leans into Zoom technology, from a chilling use of silly facial filters to a sequence that will make you reconsider ever making a custom video background for your future Zooms.

As the demon begins picking them off at random, with the others watching in helpless horror, Jemma’s shift from apathetic nonbeliever to selflessly trying to save Haley is incredibly moving. There’s so much history to this fractured friendship that you’ll be rooting for them to reconcile, even as you realize Host’s final trick: It’s only as long as an unpaid Zoom session.

How It Ends

Ignoring the Virus But Still Embracing Social Distancing

You could make the argument that Daryl Wein and Zoe Lister-Jones’ pre-apocalyptic comedy could be interpreted as taking place during COVID, what with its many comedy stars all acting a conspicuous six or more feet from one another. It’s just that even if that were true, it wouldn’t matter, because there are bigger fish to fry. Specifically, an asteroid en route for Earth, conveniently set to make impact at the end of Liza’s (Lister-Jones) and everyone else’s last day in sunny Los Angeles.

Trying to make it to an end-of-the-world party in LA without her car, which has been stolen, Liza and her younger self (Devs’ Cailee Spaney) wander through the aggressively bright county, populated with other people doing their best to cope. Unlike the other films on this list, How It Ends makes no effort to hide that it was shot with stringent COVID protocols enforcing social distancing: Cameos from the likes of Fred Armisen and Lamorne Morris are shot on different floors of houses while Bradley Whitford is so far removed in his scene that it’s impossible to get him and Lister-Jones in the same shot.

How It Ends is more a series of loosely-connected sketches than a super cohesive narrative, but that’s how the film manages to bring in so many talented stars as kooky strangers whom the two Lizas encounter, from Nick Kroll as the shadiest of drug dealers to Olivia Wilde as Liza’s estranged psychic friend (a scene-stealer) ,to Ayo Edibiri (another absolute delight) as a teacher who decided, hey, why not try her hand at stand-up comedy while she still can? Even with this layer of grim humor, get ready for this movie to spark unexpected pathos in these Decameron-esque encounters between strangers. By leaning into the physical distance between these characters, How It Ends shows how even when faced with the literal apocalypse, humans will still hold themselves apart from one another. While Liza makes peace with a number of key figures from her life, by the time the asteroid is creeping its way to the horizon, she is faced with her most challenging, but also most freeing, task: To accept that it’s okay to just be alone with yourself during a world-changing catastrophe.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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mongniel · 6 years

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rictusempra

member: kang daniel genre: fluff, harry potter!au summary: daniel is rough when it comes to a game of quidditch. but you weren’t a very forgiving person when he sent you off your broom and pummeled to the ground. a/n: this was supposed to be up yesterday but my dumbass thought i typed it out and queued it already (i didn’t...). FOR DANIEL WEEK, @deepdickdaniel have a happy happy birthday bitch. i didn’t proofread because i was in a rush to finish another one im gonna post today LMAO.

hogwarts was the school to be at. if anyone else thought otherwise, your wand would be pointed up their throat, asking them to repeat what they said.

no one ever questions why you got sorted into slytherin. you were competitive, ambitious, and continuously determined to be the best.

it was no wonder why you were a prefect and on the quidditch team, specifically a chaser.

a really good one at that, but it wasn’t because you were talented or anything. you worked your ass off to be as good as normal players and wanted to excel even further.

everyone was surprised the slytherin that couldn’t even fly their broom their first year was now one of slytherin’s best chasers.

anyway, you had a game. slytherin vs. gryffindor

you honestly hated playing against gryffindor because their seeker, ong seongwu, is constantly not taking the game seriously.

he thinks the game is his comedic stage but he doesn’t realize how much of an annoyance he was.

well, the gryffindor team doesn’t have a hot liking for you either.

you’re the pureblood snake with the stick up your ass. according to them....

plus you’re pretty much the only player they have a real difficult time knocking down because they can’t call you out for playing dirty since you don’t.

(side note: slytherins aren’t always evil and mean!)

anyway, in the middle of the game, you caught the quaffle from another teammate, and in the midst of tossing it back to another member, a bludger hits your left shoulder, causing you to lose balance and fall off your broom.

you fell flat on your back and felt the immense pain that came from your effected shoulder.

your immediate reaction wasn’t even to take care of yourself. it was to find the asshole that hit a bludger towards your shoulder.

and there he was staring right at you from above.

you knew exactly who he was. kang daniel, that idiot ong seongwu’s best friend. your automatic assumption was he’s probably the same level of idiot as ong was.

but fuck, you couldn’t think any further than that because your shoulder was killing you.

next thing you knew, you were getting treated and was being told that you couldn’t play quidditch until the end of the week. for you, that was already too long away from a broom.

you were heated. daniel probably did it on purpose, you thought. him and seongwu probably plotted this out so you’d step down from practices and games.

they thought they could do that to you? no.

to your advantage, daniel was in the same class as you, your favorite class, defense against the dark arts (dada)

you had a fucked up arm but you’re lucky it wasn’t your wand holding arm.

when the professor asked for volunteers for a duel, you instantly had your hand up.

“okay, choose your opponent.”

“gryffindor, kang daniel.”

at first, he was stunned. he was goofing off with another student when you were calling him out for a duel. then your professor called him up for the duel.

daniel looked at you then back at your arm. his face said he was sorry, but you couldn’t believe that. he was going to use pity against you.

“let’s start,” your professor said.

“stupefy!” you exclaimed and pointed your wand at him. (spell to stun your opponent)

he was quick and you missed the shot.

“wait, y/n, i’m s––”

“depulso!” (spell to move the target away)

daniel flew across the room before he could finish his sentence.

“take it easy, y/n!” your teacher commanded.

you ignored him as your grip tightened on your wand.

“expecto pe––”

daniel raised his wand up and pointed at you before you could finish his spell.

“rictusempra.” (spell to tickle your opponent)

you were laughing.... uncontrollably. your dropped your wand and fell on your knees as you couldn’t stop laughing.

“please, sto–haha!!!”

your professor used the spell to undo your laughter as he applaud daniel for his quick thinking.

“y/n is a strong competitor. i’m very impressed, daniel,” he said.

that just made you more angry. you even heard daniel thanking the professor.

you grabbed your wand and walked out of class. you didn’t want to hear this anymore, nor did you want to see daniel. he broke your arm and got complimented. what’s next? your prefect spot going to him?

kang daniel. the name made you boiled.

you did your best to avoid him. the mere thought of him bothered you.

but little did you know, he’s been trying to find you. literally, he’s been really bothered and feeling extremely guilty for sending that bludger your way to the point where you broke your arm.

when your arm healed, you slightly let your guard down and... well... it lead to an interaction... with him... kang daniel.

“hey!!”

you turned to see daniel waving and jogging over to you with a goofy smile on his face.

your instinct was to get out of there whether it was via your legs or broom. you just didn’t want to talk to him.

he was fast though for a muggle and he had his hand on your shoulder (the one that was injured not to long ago by the way) when he caught up to you.

you bet your eyes were doing its best to burn his hands until they were off. daniel caught the hint and laughed sheepishly as he removed his hand.

“what do you want?” you asked him.

“i just want to say sorry for breaking your shoulder. my aim was totally off and you were going at full speed.. i... i felt so bad for hitting you. i’ve been finding the right chance to talk to you, but you seem like you were avoiding me.”

“well, i was. you broke my arm and humiliated me... twice. defense against the dark arts is my class and you made me a fool.”

“well, you would’ve probably killed me if i didn’t do anything. plus, i thought the rictusempra spell was a better method to you know... not stupefy you but stop you from throwing me like an unwanted doll.”

“it would’ve been less humiliating if you stupefied me,” you mumbled.

“next time, i’ll stupefy you then!”

you glared at him for even saying that.

“you’re really... stupid or something.”

“no, i’m just trying to make it up to you. what do you want me to do? i’ll do your homework––”

“as if your grades are better than mine.”

“i’ll give you some quidditch pointers! look, you’re good, but i know you didn’t start off that way. i can teach you some stuff you probably don’t even know about.”

the offer was tempting, actually.

“fine, but if i see ong seongwu within a two mile radius, i’m leaving.” you just needed a condition to make it seem like you weren’t completely into the whole idea with being around daniel.

“deal. no, ong seongwu.”

these one-on-one sessions were actually useful.

you actually took his pointers seriously. daniel was surprisingly good... he could’ve been a really excellent chaser if he wanted to with the way he can throw the ball.

“nice catch!” he shouted from the other side and soon flew over to you, “you’re doing really good. if not even better than before.”

“... thanks...” your eyes wavered before you toss the ball over to him, “let’s try that one more time.”

you weren’t used to his smiles. no matter how many times he does it to you.

at times, he would laugh too and you really didn’t know why. you were strictly cold towards him, but in return, he was... warm.

it was the next slytherin vs gryffindor game.

you were talking with your teammates and when you were on the field, your eyes found their way to daniel.

he was talking to seongwu and they were laughing with each other.

you felt uncomfortable. you wanted to take your eyes off of him, but you just didn’t. when he noticed, you tightened your grip on your broom and your eyes moved in panic.

but he was just smiling at you, waving like... always.

you did your best to ignore him, but during the game... he was alluring. so much so, you thought you were being charmed.

your head wasn’t in the game and you glance at daniel from time to time during the game that you almost got pulled out of the game.

“listen, screw your head back in or i’m taking you out of the game.”

“sorry. i’ll focus.”

and you did. you ignored daniel because he really was a distraction... smiling at you randomly during the game. how rude.

you took ignoring daniel to a new level though, so you didn’t even see him coming when you flew right into his lane.

the two of you bumped shoulders and the impact had you off your broom again.

“daniel!”

you had no idea why, but his name was the first to come out of your mouth.

you expected to hit the floor again, praying that you wouldn’t break your arm again, but daniel swooped right down to you and caught you by your waist.

you can hear his heavy breathing as his head rested on your shoulder.

“i... caught... you this time.”

when he saved you, your heart was racing and it was not from the adrenaline from falling... and the butterflies just wouldn’t stop.

you really didn’t want to admit it, but you liked a gryffindor.

#kang daniel scenarios #kang daniel imagines #kang daniel #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines

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thedeadflag · 6 years

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Christmas Kisses (WIP)

Okay, so here’s the first go of posting some WIPs from November and before. This was the festive fic I was working on for NaNoWriMo, with the incomplete sections cut away.

Hope you enjoy!

Raven Reyes had very little patience for unnecessary aggression in her friend group, especially when that aggression was just a smokescreen for something else. So to say that Clarke and Anya's ongoing abrasiveness was both exhausting and frustrating would be putting it lightly. She'd put up with it because Clarke was her best friend and Anya was growing to be a good friend as well, but it was time for it all to come to an end.

After a week of planning with Niylah and Lexa, she was sure that the latter's Christmas party would be the end of it. For better or worse, the conflict would be over for good. With a little extra help from Lincoln, Octavia, and everyone's favourite teenager Aden, she had high hopes that it would end well, even if it was sure to be a bit rocky.

Okay, pretty damn rocky.

She just had to hope that what her instincts were telling her was true. Everything was riding on that. Well, that, her tech, and the hope that Lexa would be able to handle any fallout from it all.

There was little that Anya hated more than winter. The bitter cold, the ridiculous piles of snow that would fall, the terrible driving conditions, the relentless holiday music that would seem to follow her everywhere she went, the depressingly few hours of sunlight...it was all miserable.

So maybe she just wasn't feeling it, standing in the corner of the living room at Lexa's Christmas party. If her favourite person in the world couldn't fully cheer her up in the middle of winter, she wasn't sure what could. Of course, the presence of one Clarke Griffin certainly didn't help anything, Anya's eyes turning to focus on a random wreath on the wall as the other blonde went to pull Lexa into a kiss.

She wasn't jealous, per se. Lexa was her best friend, and if she found happiness with Clarke Griffin, then that was that. Lexa's happiness was far more important than any crush or one-sided romantic love she'd been harboring, which was why Lexa and Clarke were together in the first place. Anya was a grown woman, she could handle her own feelings, and take responsibility for them. She wouldn't let them disrupt Lexa's life for even a fraction of a second.

Besides, as frustrating and grating as Clarke could be to her at times, the woman was radiant, was talented and passionate, wonderfully kind to most people who weren't Anya, and could always find a way to get Lexa smiling. Very importantly, despite the stormy emotions Anya seemed to bring out in the woman, Clarke never openly pressured Lexa to stop spending time with her, never gave Lexa ultimatums or tried to control Lexa or cut Anya off from her best friend, so that was vital and good. Add to that how Lexa clearly appreciated Clarke's curves, something Anya did not have in abundance like Griffin did, and there was just no competition. Ultimately, she could hardly blame Lexa for spending most of her time with her girlfriend. That was, after all, what girlfriends did.

Again, Anya could deal with her feelings. Any loneliness was her own responsibility, and any sense of abandonment was foolish and certainly not Lexa's fault, or Clarke's for that matter.

It just didn't make any of it easier to deal with. Winter, Clarke Griffin, Christmas, it all drained her so easily. Knowing she'd just have to put up with it, Anya made her way into the kitchen and poured herself some more apple cider, not wanting to get drunk tonight, or at least not while she was still at the party.

Maybe when I'm back home...I don't work tomorrow, so I could afford to have a solid hangover... She mused to herself as she turned and made her way back to the living room, not really paying attention to the people around her until the sound of jingling bells sounded above her, robbing the majority of her patience with it.

Raven had installed these absurd mistletoe sensors above every entrance or doorframe that would sound out when two people crossed under them at the same time. Honestly, Anya wouldn't put it past Raven to have a camera recording a set period of time from when the alarm sounded, to make sure everyone complied afterward. Why Lexa had approved them was an utter mystery to her, but when Anya turned her head and saw the other person, she had a feeling that 2017 really was the worst year ever, Clarke Griffin glaring back at her and looking entirely apprehensive.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Anya muttered in a quiet breath, eyes wincing shut as she tried to control the annoyance brewing inside of her at her atrocious luck.

"Don't blame me, you're literally the last person in this party that I'd kiss if I had a choice, but it's Lexa's house rule. All she wanted for Christmas was this damn party, so...whatever." Clarke shot back angrily, somehow having caught her words despite the loud rendition of 'Jingle-Bell Rock' playing in the background.

Anya shook her head in disdain, but knew that disappointing Lexa was not an option. Begrudgingly, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against Clarke's for a fraction of a second, applying only the tiniest bit of pressure before storming back off to her corner in the living room, needing some time to let her frustration with the situation flow out of her.

The softness of those lips definitely didn't haunt her thoughts for the next ten minutes.

Peaches. Of course Anya tasted like peaches. Anya had to taste like her favourite fruit; not blackberries, or dragon fruit, but goddamn peaches.

Clarke swiped her tongue across her lips, wondering why the hell Anya layered her lip gloss on so damn heavily, trying to ignore how the tiniest shred of tanginess had her wanting more. Not of Anya, certainly, but if she could find out the brand of lip gloss, she'd maybe be a little happy.

Maybe that would make the night a lot better than it had been. Lexa hosted a Christmas party every year, and so many old friends would come by that her girlfriend hadn't seen in forever, leaving her with precious little alone time with Lexa.

It wasn't necessarily bad, because all the guests made Lexa happy, and that was all that really mattered, but it made it hard for Clarke to stand still and hover, so she'd wander the house instead. She'd already been made to kiss Octavia and Bellamy under the mistletoe, and she kind of really thought that would have been the worst of it until her luck had run dry with Anya.

Truth be told, she couldn't hate Anya. At least, not entirely. Anya had watched out for Lexa, growing up. Anya kept Lexa safe from bullies during her awkward years, she'd been there to listen to and comfort Lexa when her parents were always away. She'd orchestrated an elaborate bit of social manipulation among their high school's major players prior to Lexa coming out, all in order to protect Lexa and make sure no one would consider hurting her. When Lexa needed start-up money for her business, Anya was there with her own money, and plenty of investor friends, to make it an easier process.

So she couldn't hate Anya, not when the woman loved and supported Lexa so intensely, even if that did make Clarke feel a little insecure, being a relative newcomer in Lexa's life. And it didn't help that Anya was usually so coolly polite to her, or that Anya and Lexa always had all morning on Sundays to themselves for some 'BFF' time.

Of course, those long hours with Anya made Lexa happy, so it didn't matter how she felt about it, especially since she was above jealousy or anything so petty as that. It's just that it would be nice to have a full weekend alone with her girlfriend sometimes, which Anya made impossible, even if she hadn’t really brought that issue up before.

Sometimes it had her wondering how she could compete, really. Sure, her logical mind told her that Lexa had chosen her, that Lexa was with her, that they were girlfriends. Still, Lexa and Anya knew each other from birth, had a life-long bond that was unbreakable, and Anya was so often her best self around Lexa, leaving most of her standoffish and cool behaviour when she was alone with Clarke. And as much as she might not like to admit it, Anya was absolutely stunning. After Lexa, Anya was still probably in the top five most beautiful people she'd ever met. Like, the woman could make anything look amazing, and turn anywhere into a damned catwalk, and Clarke wasn't sure that if Anya stepped on her face that she wouldn't do something embarrassing like moan or thank her.

Meanwhile, she had a tiny bit of a tummy, and the stress from the last six months of work had added a few pounds. Not that Clarke didn't appreciate and love her curves and softness, but she knew the kind of women Lexa trended towards. She'd met Lexa's exes; two of them immensely-toned soccer players, one of them a p90x junkie working on Wall St, and the other one was a stunt double that had biceps as big as Clarke's thighs.

To say she was an outlier, and Anya would be a regression towards the mean, would be entirely accurate.

So maybe there was a tiny bit of insecurity she had to deal with, but that was probably just because Anya looked good enough to eat, and apparently tasted equally delicious. If Lexa got a taste, she wasn't sure what would even happen.

"Clarke?" Aden's voice pulled Clarke from her thoughts to the boy standing politely nearby. "Lexa said you wouldn't mind doing a quick portrait of me and my girlfriend? Only if it's not any trouble."

Clarke knew that all her art stuff she kept at Lexa's was in the garage; definitely enough for a pencil or graphite portrait. Paint, she couldn't be sure. "It's not. Why don't you two set up in the recliner? I'll be back in a jiffy."

At Aden's nod, Clarke made her way through the living room and into the kitchen, knowing the garage was just around the corner. She was just nearing the doorway when someone must have tripped and pushed her accidentally, sending her reeling towards the doorframe.

Just as she was losing her balance completely in her regrettably steep heels, someone turned the corner into the kitchen just in time for her to collide into them, strong arms swiftly wrapping around her as they fell against the edge of the doorframe, jingle-bells sounding above them.

"Again?"

Clarke had been a half second away from apologizing and thanking the stranger for catching her, but the sound of Anya's voice, all saturated with disbelief and weariness, quickly had Clarke changing her tune.

"Don't blame me, someone shoved me at the doorway. Find the nearest plastered person and give them that glare, I don't deserve it." Clarke argued pre-emptively, jaw setting to the side and she stared up at Anya expectantly, the other woman thankfully helping Clarke back to her feet and stability. It was a little odd that the woman's arms hadn't left her waist, but Clarke was still teetering on her heels a bit, her buzz from earlier not cooperating with her shoes. "Well, at least you're not a completely heinous bitch."

"Oh, no? I suppose I still have something to strive for then." Anya shot back with a healthy heaping of sarcasm and a roll of her eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

It wasn't all that much different from the previous time, Anya's head leaning forward just enough for those aggravatingly peachy lips to graze her own. However, there was maybe a tiny bit more pressure this time around, Anya's lips lingering a fraction longer before the woman was storming off through the kitchen, leaving Clarke to her task again.

But as she moved through the house and into the garage, she could feel it. It'd been maybe ten or twelve minutes from the previous kiss, but she could feel the gloss on her lips. For whatever reason, Anya was determined to be wearing something tasty in case she got caught with someone under the mistletoe.

Or, maybe I'm just being paranoid...

It took a little longer than the few seconds expected to find her materials, not usually having two vehicles in the garage, Lexa having needed to move her things around a bit to fit both inside.

Still, she managed to find her art kit with all her pencils and pastels and graphite after a brief minute or so of searching. A few seconds later she had her art pad to match, and a head full of hope that she could give Aden and his girlfriend something cute for Christmas.

Clarke opened the garage door, only to bump straight into Anya, the goddamned sound of jingle-bells resonating through the space again. Clarke glared up at the device and swore she saw a camera. She'd have to interrogate Raven about it later.

"God damnit, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you stalking me?!" Clarke yelled, glaring down her girlfriend's best friend as Anya set a cooler down onto the ground and stepped deep into her personal space.

"Don't flatter yourself, princess. You know as well as I do that I was given the duty of shuttling the alcohol between the garage and kitchen, since I'm not drinking tonight. What the hell are you doing here?" Anya demanded, the venom in her voice coming off as an accusation, as if she'd planned this.

Clarke shoved Anya away, the woman colliding against the opposite side of the doorframe with a wince and the slightest of gasps. "Fuck you! Aden wanted a portrait drawn up, and my art supplies are all out here. Like I'd ever lurk around corners trying to lure you into a mockery of a kiss."

"Just stay away from me after this." Anya grit out, closing the distance, hand knitting in her hair as she was pulled closer, enough for the other woman's lips to press firmly against hers for a half second.

Clarke was too busy being dumbstruck by the presence of more damned lip gloss to do much of anything as Anya pushed past her and into the garage, seeking out the treasure trove of booze all the partygoers had brought with them. She held back a few choice words about the woman's persistence with the damn lip gloss, knowing it'd only give Anya more questions, and lead to more confrontations.

She shook her head and stormed off to the living room, the sight of Aden and his girlfriend immediately pushing any memory of Anya to the back of her mind. "Alright, let's do this. You two get comfy, okay?" Clarke asked them as she dragged a footrest over and sat on it.

That solace only lasted a minute, her tongue sweeping across her lip by habit as she sketched, dragging the tasty lip gloss with it. Clarke took a few seconds, closing her eyes, and tried to just empty her mind of the annoying woman she inexplicably kept running into, as well as the sort of delightful pressure of her lips the last time around.

It was still early in the night. She hoped her run of bad luck wouldn't continue much longer.

Anya let out a loud huff after her sixth trip to the garage to restock the tiny alcohol bucket. Lexa didn't want too much at the ready, so it kept running out pretty quickly, meaning she'd have to go get more. Which, of course, meant being extra cautious in case someone was about to run into her under another goddamn mistletoe.

Not that she hated kissing. Far from it, really, she just felt awkward kissing friends, and wanted to avoid kissing non-friends, and the whole thing made her feel horrible when she was set up to kiss someone who was partnered up.

Kissing Clarke Griffin three times already tonight was hopefully an anomaly she would avoid for the rest of the night, not just to spare herself the guilt of encroaching on Lexa’s relationship, but to spare her self-esteem. Honestly, if she hadn't been depressed enough before, Clarke certainly knew where to pick her shots, making her out to be some sort of gross creature. The woman would never initiate, never even apply the slightest pressure into the kiss, never even touch her unless it was to shove her away in repulsion.

Most people's remarks she could brush off with ease, but it was harder when those people meant something to Lexa. And Lexa loved Clarke, so what did it say about her that Clarke thought she was a heinous bitch, too gross and reprehensible to be anything but a last choice?

Maybe if the thoughts and words and actions weren't sincere, maybe if it was just a performance, Anya would be fine with it in some contexts far enough distanced from reality. It wasn't as if she hadn't dipped her toes into the occasional bit of kink and BDSM, after all, but this was actual hatred, this was someone who actually felt okay and righteous in demeaning her.

"Why so glum?" Lincoln asked, suddenly appearing at her side, shooting her one of those annoying inquisitive stares that made it a hundred percent clear that he was worried and determined to get to the bottom of it.

Anya shook her head, hoping to shake off the emotions written on her face as well. "Not glum. Tired. Been a long day."

"I don't buy that for a second." Lincoln noted casually, leaning up against the counter beside her. "What's up? Not enjoying the party?"

"It's packed. It's loud. This place is a mistletoe minefield. People keep asking me to find things for them. Octavia won't stop requesting Jingle-Bell Rock. Take your pick." Anya answered calmly, trying to achieve some level of zen to throw him off her scent, which her growing headache was making difficult.

No such luck. "Yeah, the mistletoe stuff's a bit much, but it's been funny. A lot of awkward kisses." Lincoln said, pinning down her real issue easily, not that he wouldn't have had she not mentioned it. He had a strangely accurate intuition. "Don't feel guilty if you got caught under it with someone's partner, Anya. I know you, but you have to let that go. It's all in good fun, it's not any kind of infidelity."

And okay, maybe she did find mistletoe annoying for that, even if she wasn't sure she'd go as far as calling it infidelity unless there was intent. It wasn't the real issue at hand, though. "I know, Lincoln. It just hasn't been good to me tonight."

Lincoln looked like he was about to respond when suddenly Octavia broke into her field of vision, tugging hard at her boyfriend's arm. "Lincoln! We need you in the living room!" Octavia yelled over the holiday music, giving him another tug.

He looked at her helplessly, clearly not thinking it was good to go. All Anya could offer was a roll of her eyes and a shooing motion with her hands, letting him know she was good with it, not that he didn't peek over his shoulder at her worriedly as Octavia ushered him away.

Lincoln really was a worrywart, but he meant well.

Her job done for the moment, Anya cautiously made her way out of the kitchen and to the small half-bath on the main floor to just catch some breathing room and clear her head a bit.

Anya opened her bag, redoing where her makeup had worn off, figuring it was as good as war paint out there, given the situation. Once she was satisfied, she began tossing all her tools and products back into her bag, only to hear a rapid knock at the door just as she clamped her bag closed and slung it over her shoulder.

Not wanting to leave some drunk person to vomit or piss out in the halls of her best friend’s home, Anya rushed to the door and swung it open, pushing past the person who immediately went to slip in. The bell sound jingled again above them from the mistletoe hanging just inside the room, but as soon as Anya saw who it was, she wasn't about to wait. She could disappoint Lexa this one time. Just this once, given Clarke had done so already.

"Anya, get back here, I need to pee!" Clarke yelled after her, stilling her halfway down the hall.

"Then by all means, Clarke, don't let me stop you." Anya spoke, staring over her shoulder at the other blonde, who was clearly both struggling physically and furious.

In need of something to wash the sour experience from her mouth, Anya found her way into the kitchen, pouring herself some apple cider and heating it up in the microwave since the main jug had long gone cool. Thankfully, some sort of Christmas karaoke was going on in the living room leaving the kitchen empty.

Anya checked her watch and groaned, knowing she had a fair bit of time left until the party would disperse.

Eventually, the microwave dinged, and she pulled out her steaming cup of cider just as Clarke stormed into the kitchen.

"You!" Clarke hissed, stomping over to her and deep into her personal space. "You will not ruin any of this for her!"

Anya honestly couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh at Clarke's gall. "I figured with your behaviour that I'd do you a kindness. Spread the blame around a little so she could put me in the proverbial doghouse instead." Anya noted calmly as she strolled past Clarke, hoping the tiny sun room at the back of the house was free.

"Are you kidding me?" Clarke let out with an annoyed grunt, marching after her. It was the sharp tug at her arm as she left the kitchen that had Anya spinning backward, hot cider splashing over her chest as she braced herself against the doorframe just in time not to stumble back into Clarke.

The sound of bells probably filled the air, but all Anya could hear was the blood thrumming through the veins at her temple like a battle drum as she controlled her reaction, not wanting to show pain in front of her apparent adversary. If Clarke was so insistent, then she'd take the searing pain across her neck and chest for now and be done with it. "Fine, Clarke. Do your worst."

"That's...I didn't mean...I don't want this any more than you do, but Lexa told us all the rules for the mistletoe. This is her day. This is her gift." Clarke insisted, as if Anya actually needed the reminder.

"I know, Clarke. I'm not stopping you." Anya growled, shaking her arm free from Clarke, leaving them inches apart, making sure that Clarke would have to put in all the effort needed, that she'd have to start from scratch.

Clarke glared at her, though that glare flickered after a few seconds passed, replaced with growing confusion. "Then let's get it over with."

"Yes, let's." Anya agreed, holding Clarke's hard stare, not moving a goddamn inch.

The other woman lingered, waiting, and let out a frustrated sigh after a few more uneventful seconds passed. "What are you waiting for?"

"You." Anya stated flatly, rolling her eyes at Clarke's immediate confusion. "Clarke, you've made it abundantly clear that I'm the last person you'd ever want to kiss out of anyone here, but I'm not going to do all the work. Each time, I initiated, I kissed, you just stood there and took it. I don't call that participation, and it's actually very uncomfortable for me, so unless you want to keep eating your words, you can buck up and get it done. Even a cheek kiss would suffice."

Clarke recoiled at the accusation, anger flashing in her eyes. "Excuse me, but maybe I'm not a fan of kissing someone like you!"

"And you think I want to kiss someone who thinks I'm heinous and disgusting?" Anya fired back, jaw setting to the side when Clarke just laughed.

"So this is all about your ego?" The woman asked with a cold grin. "Actually, of course it is. Why would I expect anything else?"

Unnerved by the strange accusation, given her ego had never really been anything worth noting, Anya leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossing her chest. "This is about you treating me like I'm some leper, like you're going to catch something from me. Grow up...if you can kiss Bellamy and still manage to treat him like a human being after he practically stalked you for four months, I'd think you could do the same for me, given I've never done anything to you."

Clarke's jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as the woman tilted her head to the side slightly. "You've never liked me."

"Jesus Christ." Anya let out with a sigh, shaking her head at Clarke's obliviousness. "You frustrate and annoy me to no end. You find subtle ways to complain about any time Lexa and I spend together when we're best friends. Your taste in music is insufferable, you put pineapple on your pizza, and you leave dirty dishes in Lexa's sink far too often for my comfort. And sometimes, yes, I don't like you...sometimes. Like now. But you are still a good person, Clarke. Wonderful, even, sometimes. Lexa would never love you if you weren't, and I never would have advised her on your first few dates if I didn't wholeheartedly approve of you. So get your head out of your ass for once in your damn life."

By the end of her rant, she was breathing a little heavily, and maybe the pain from the burn had forced some moisture to her eyes, but she stood her ground, waiting as Clarke's face twisted, all that hostility falling away to confusion and something else that Anya might have tentatively decided was regret if she wasn't so cynical.

"Really?" Clarke eventually let out, voice thick and low, sapphire eyes staring at her with an expression that she couldn't quite translate.

"Clarke, focus. You're the one who forced the kissing issue. Can we just do this?" Anya asked, exasperated and really in need of changing out of her top and to put something cool over her stinging skin.

Thankfully, the other blonde nodded, biting her lip before gently tugging at Anya's arms. Anya let them drop to her side as Clarke peered into her eyes, as if she was looking for something. What it was, Anya couldn't say as Clarke brought a hand up, cupping her face, thumb stroking her cheek, fingertips massaging the upper reaches of her neck, stealing away any wonder at what the woman might have seen.

Clarke's lips brushed against hers with achingly fleeting pressure once, twice, three times before finally meeting hers in an embrace that had her body reeling. If not for Clarke's other hand cupping her elbow, she wasn't sure how well her balance might have held up as soft curves pressed up against her, the hand at her cheek gliding back to comb through her hair and smooth down her neck with delicious pressure before Clarke stepped away.

Which would have felt wonderful in most other circumstances if Clarke hadn't run her hand across the newly burned skin as she stepped away, forcing out a regrettable hiss of pain.

"Anya, what's...oh my god, is your skin normally that red?" Clarke asked with growing panic. "Shit, of course it's not, come on, there's a first aid kit in the bathroom down the hall."

She quickly found herself being tugged out of the kitchen by the hand, Clarke leading her down the hall to the bathroom. Getting her burn treated, as minor as it might be, was probably a good thing, but her mind might have still been a little stuck on that kiss.

Still, she managed to push that to the back of her mind as they entered the washroom in single file, her long years of discipline more than capable of tamping down on any thoughts or feelings for now.

"How in the heck did you burn yourself, anyways?" Clarke asked as she gently pressed a cool cloth to the burned area, leaning in close enough to where she could definitely make out the woman's rosy raspberry-vanilla aroma. Before, in the haze of having to deal with another run-in with Anya, or in the frustration of being caught under the mistletoe again in general, the scent hadn't registered, but it was very pleasant and oddly fitting.

"Well, I guess it was shortly after I pulled my cup of apple cider from the microwave. I was leaving the kitchen with it, and someone tugged really hard at my arm, and it went spilling all over me." Anya answered, shooting Clarke a wry smile, probably to try and play it off like she didn't blame her, that it was all fine.

Clarke didn't embrace that message, lips curling into a deep frown as she pulled the cloth away to get some fresh cool water in it. "I'm so sorry, I was upset, and I didn't even see you holding the...wait, that mug?" Clarke asked in disbelief, just now noticing Anya was still holding her old Wonder Woman-branded mug in her hand.

"It's tasty cider. My favourite homemade recipe." Anya noted flatly, as if it was offensive to think the woman would have put it down.

"And it's been in your hand the whole time?" Clarke asked, needing some clarification, her pride riding on the answer a little bit.

"Well, yes. I went to the kitchen for a drink, so ever since then." Anya answered slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion as Clarke let out a burst of air, feeling like she'd just had the wind knocked out of her.

Honestly, that Anya could hold a mug of cider steady while being kissed? Said a lot about the quality of it. "I must be losing my touch. Shit. I thought that was a decent kiss."

"It was surprisingly great, actually. I can multi-task, Clarke." Anya shot back, appearing a little amused for whatever reason. Clarke halfway hoped Anya wasn't teasing her and had been truthful.

"Not great enough for you to drop your cup. And surprisingly? Did you think I'd be a bad kisser?" Clarke asked quickly, slightly wringing out the wet washcloth before putting it back on the burned area, taking some comfort in Anya's happy hum.

"I'd only asked you to treat me like I wasn't diseased. I didn't expect that. And no, I did everything I could to hold onto my cup, because if I dropped it, it would have broken, and I'd have to clean and sweep it up, and I would have broken something that wasn’t mine to break. Give yourself some credit that it wasn't easy at all for me, and you did get rid of my headache for a minute or two. Though I have to ask...why four kisses?" Anya clarified, the answers maybe not soothing her wounded pride entirely, even if it did feel better to hear Anya enjoyed it.

Clarke offered a simple shrug, knowing the answer was easy. "You called me out. I didn't kiss back the other times, meaning it didn't count. So I gave you three to make up for those ones, and the fourth for the mistletoe we were under at the time." She explained, earning a slow, thoughtful nod from the other woman. "You really helped Lexa with our first few dates?"

Anya's airy laughter caught her off guard, the sound both unfamiliar and appealing, a very potent reminder that she hadn't really spent a lot of time around Anya in the past seven months she and Lexa had been dating. "She was a wreck. Adorable, but a wreck. The first day she called me about you writing your phone number on the receipt, she was midway through a panic attack, rambling at length about the beautiful woman who'd buy a mocha latte and a cherry turnover." Anya said, eyes slipping shut as she smiled brightly. "Honestly, by the end of the call, I thought I'd gotten her courage up enough for her to call you. It'd been a two hour long phone-call."

Clarke's jaw dropped at the last detail. "You're kidding. She never talks that long."

Anya leveled her with a knowing stare. "About you? Of course she does. Why do you think our Sunday mornings run so long?" Anya asked, brow furrowing when Clarke let out a gasp, as if she could be so unaware of how her words were literally blowing her mind. All this time, she'd been envious, perhaps jealous, especially with how Lexa would talk at length about Anya, but hearing Anya laugh and smile about Lexa rambling adorably about her? She halfway wanted to rush out and throw Lexa into bed, even while her other half wanted to stay exactly where she was and hear more from Anya. "Anyways, so I go to bed expecting her to tell me the good news the next day at lunch. But instead, she doesn't show, and I get another call that evening. Another hour and a half. Rinse and repeat, basically, for the next six days until I finally dragged her into her bedroom, called you on her phone, and forced the issue. So yeah, I've been there the whole time. You won me over forty minutes into the first call, of course I armchair quarterbacked the first few dates. She was a mess."

Clarke was laughing by the end of Anya's spiel, finding it hard to believe her loving and relatively cool-headed girlfriend could ever be so fumbling. "She was not a mess. She was so calm and sweet and wonderful on those dates."

"Clarke, she started crying during that first phone call to me because she was imagining you two kissing each other goodnight. I love Lexa, but she only got more endearingly amusing from there on out. It took a lot of work to prepare her." Anya countered, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes as Clarke just gaped. It did make sense, though, since Lexa had definitely let a few tears fall when she'd kissed her goodnight on the first date.

Honestly, it only endeared her to Lexa more, even if that all raised a few pressing questions about Anya.

"I appreciate it, really. But...I have to ask..." Clarke started, watching Anya's humour vanish into a serious expression, leaving her wondering if Anya might have been psychic or something. Still, she had to know. "You're clearly carrying a torch for Lexa. Like...I don't blame you...and I will say that until now, I've actually been intimidated by that, by what you two have. That's...that's why I've been so hostile around you, I guess. But...I guess my question is...why didn't you try? You had every opportunity."

Anya's defeated sigh and tired eyes told Clarke more than enough, but when the words came, she felt appreciative that she could at least fill in all the blanks. "Lexa will never want me as a lover more than she needs me purely as a friend. It's that simple. I've always looked out for her, I've been her confidant, her 'mom friend'...you have to understand, her parents already regretted her when she came out as trans. When she came out as a lesbian, it was just her, alone. I was all she had for a time, so I never really had a chance to be that to her. I've always been her anchor. I still am, and I love her for it, and I don't regret it. I just know that asking her to love me the way she loves you would put what we have at risk, and she wouldn't ever risk it, so I won't ever ask her to." Anya explained at length, sniffling slightly as she nodded to herself and shot Clarke a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

That wasn't the look of someone with much hope, or recent heartbreak. She recognized it from her mom's eyes whenever she'd talk about dad. Like an old, nagging shrapnel wound from the heartbreak that wouldn't ever really go away, and couldn't ever really get better on its own. That even if someone came by to piece it back together, some pieces just weren't able to be removed due to the risk. Some pieces would always hurt.

"I'll give her away at her wedding, and you'll make her happy 'til death do you part. And then you'll be her anchor, and I'll...I'll figure it out on my end of things. Because she'll be happy, and you'll be happy, and I'll keep being her best friend, and hopefully I'll find someone to call home, too." Anya continued with a voice that made at an attempt at being reassuring even as it was undermined by the thick unstable emotion her words trembled with. Anya tilted her head back as tears rolled down her temples, letting out a wistful sigh that had Clarke's heart feel like it was about to split. "Maybe someone who won't order pineapple on her pizza. That's the dream, I suppose."

It was about as ham-handed an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and distract from a person's overwhelming emotions as Clarke had ever witnessed, but she let it happen, laughing along with Anya, knowing the woman needed it, needed someone to share the moment with, if just for a little bit. And for someone as selfless and loving as Anya, Clarke was more than happy to do that, finding herself surprisingly partway wishing she could be that person for Anya if it didn't mean giving up Lexa or her beloved pepperoni-pineapple pizza.

She'd been so wrong about the woman. Anya had been best friends with Lexa for ages, so of course she'd keep Clarke on her toes and make sure she didn't grow complacent, make sure she kept treating Lexa as she should. Of course she'd play the part of the hard to win-over friend to see if Lexa was worth it to her, to see if any toxic issues like jealousy and insecurity would rule her instead of her love for and trust of Lexa. Maybe she hadn't passed with flying colours, but Anya still gave her a pass. Still approved of her.

"I'm so sorry." Clarke spoke as the laughter died down, letting Anya's exhaustion rise to the surface. The other woman's mouth opened to speak, but Clarke was faster. "Please, just...I'm sorry. For treating you like I did, for making you think I thought less of you. You're...kind of incredible. The complete package, and it wasn't that I was disgusted with you before, I just...you're really intimidatingly beautiful, and your lip-gloss is the tastiest thing ever, and I felt frustrated and guilty that you were making it hard for me. That I was supposed to see you as an enemy of sorts, and I still wanted to kiss you."

Clarke took a deep breath, trying not to feel shaken or excited by the sheer intensity of Anya's soft gaze. "So just...don't lose hope. Because if I could clone myself, I'm pretty sure my clone would swear off pineapple if it meant being lucky enough to have a shot at dating someone like you. There are women out there who're worthy of you, and if they wouldn't jump at the chance to be with you, they'd be idiots."

Anya just shook her head and laughed. "Your clone absolutely would not give up pineapple on pizza, we both know that. And I appreciate the sentiment but...it's not like I've been hung up over Lexa all my life and swore off romance with others entirely. I've been trying to date for the past four and a half years. I just have to hope someone will eventually want me enough. I'm sure it'll happen someday, I don't need any pity just because I haven't found the right one yet."

Clarke ran through her mental list of single friends, pairing each up with Anya and feeling a growing sense of revulsion at each imagined scenario. The thought of a double date with her and Lexa alongside Anya and Raven shouldn't have had Kill Bill sirens blaring in her head, and it certainly shouldn't have had her wanting to take hold of Anya, or dishing out some more amorous action.

She shook her head and took a breath to calm herself, only to still at the strange quiet. There was supposed to be karaoke. Clarke was suddenly unaware when the music had stopped. "We've been gone a while...weird that no one's checked up on us."

Anya opened her mouth to speak and promptly closed it, lower lip sticking out in a confused pout as she tilted her head, the gears clearly whirring in her head. "That is weird. I've been here for over two hours, and there was always someone coming by to talk to me or bump into me every five minutes. It was weird."

Clarke's eyes went wide at Anya's account. "Yeah, you know...the only time I ever really got any uninterrupted time was when I bumped into you. Like, even when I was drawing Aden, people were always coming up to me, asking me to get them stuff from around the house."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Ugh, tell me about it. I was given the job of ferrying booze from the garage to the kitchen, and Lexa's had me heading up and downstairs, going on veritable scavenger hunts whenever Octavia wasn't asking for my help searching for a lost earring, or something. Even when I escaped to the sunroom, I couldn't get a moment of peace, someone always tracked me down within a few minutes."

"Come to mention it, I really couldn't get much time with Lexa tonight. Whenever I could, she was always asking me favors, for me to go grab something, or help someone with something." Clarke noted slowly, some confusing pieces starting to fall into place. "I didn't really notice anyone else that was always on the go except you, really. Sometimes Raven and O and Lincoln, but I'd only really catch them moving around to come check on me, or go talk to you."

Anya's eyes narrowed in suspicion momentarily before the other blonde shook her head, smoothing out her expression. "It's a bit much to think up conspiracy theories."

Clarke shifted her gaze to the mistletoe hanging under the door frame's crown molding for a brief moment before shooting Anya an expectant stare. "Do you really believe Raven installed cameras just to catch a clip of Monty and Miller kissing?" She asked, feeling a shred of victory at how Anya's face scrunched up in clear bewilderment.

"Was that why she...no, that can't be right. She's caught video of those two on her phone before, I remember Lincoln talking about it a month or two ago. She wouldn't go all out with cameras for something like that." Anya answered, the revelation coming as a surprise, given how the two tended to seriously shy away from PDAs. "But...oh...oh. Fuck me." Anya let out with a jagged tone, clearly coming to some frustrating realization.

Clarke wanted to be happy she came to a disturbing conclusion not a few seconds later, but the whole conspiracy theory was getting a bit strange. "We were the only ones running around the house. Way more likely to run into people and trigger the mistletoe."

"More likely to run into each other." Anya added, frowning deeply as she let out a heavy breath. "Clarke, you...you should probably go find Lexa. Talk to her. See what's up, because this...I'm not sure what's going on, and I think it'd be dangerous for me to come to any conclusions."

Clarke nodded, knowing that was probably for the best. She had more than enough ways of getting answers. Still, she had a few things she had to do first, bringing the cloth back under a stream of cool water and wringing it out, needing to make sure Anya's burn was taken care of as she re-covered the sensitive area. Second, she searched around before sticking her hand in Anya's left pocket of her jeans, pulling out her lip gloss.

"First things first." She murmured, ignoring Anya's confused pout as she took hold of the woman's jaw and applied the gloss to her lower lip. Anya's eyes narrowed in confusion, but she rolled her lips together to spread it around.

"O...kay?" Anya asked with a single breathless laugh, Clarke just then noticing how tense the woman's body was, how shallow Anya's breathing was, how much her eyes were blown.

Well...I guess that answers that... She mused to herself as she pulled Anya into a kiss, setting a languid pace as she stroked the beautiful woman's face. She couldn't help but love the peachy taste, adoring how utterly responsive Anya was to each shift in angle, each change in pressure, feeling a deep seated thrill at the tiny mewl that left Anya's throat as she pulled away.

"If they wanted us to kiss, they can't be mad if we do, or if we like it." Clarke insisted, holding Anya's wide-eyed soft gaze, heart thrumming with all the courage and confidence she could want after that kiss. "You go rest up your head, maybe take some ibuprofen, okay? I'll find you when I have answers."

Entirely determined, Clarke spun on her heel and marched out of the bathroom in search of her girlfriend and answers.

Okay, so that was the first half or so of this festive little Clarke/Anya/Lexa ficlet. The Lexa POV section after this has given me a lot of issues, so it’s been in repair and I might just scrap it and avoid a Lexa POV altogether going forward. I wanted to see if I could manage it, and I could to a degree but it was rough and kinda stilted/wooden, and I wanted better than that. Still gonna be clexanya.

#clexanya fanfiction #clexanya #the 100 fanfiction #christmas kisses #thedeadflag #long post

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