#look I am having the most ridiculous girly girl struggle here

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 6)

This is the final chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Special thanks to @rueitae for betaing this chapter and to @onlysilvy for being a darling this whole time. Your support means everything. Also, sorry, Rue, I have no self-control.

Summary: Lance falls in love with Pidge on two different occasions. They eventually figure it out.

25 and 23 years old

The end of Lance’s first year as an MFE fighter saw him standing in front of Pidge’s room, wringing his hands. Anxiety clawed at his chest, but he had made up his mind to finally confess his feelings. With the anniversary of Allura’s death fast approaching – it was only two months away –, both Keith and Hunk had advised him to either spill his guts soon or wait for the new year. Lance had taken this to heart.

His work in the Garrison didn’t put him in direct contact with Pidge, but the two of them always made up excuses to see each other after hours. They would spend evenings in his apartment, playing video games or watching movies, or they would go over to Shiro’s for a round of Monsters and Mana, enjoying how excited Curtis got over the storylines.

Most of the time, Lance felt like they were already a couple, with how much they bantered. Even Veronica assured him that they were insufferable. So, every day it got harder for Lance to control his instinct to pull Pidge to him and kiss her, to finally let her know how much Lance wanted her in his life, forever.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Before Lance could make up his mind to knock, the door slid open to reveal Romelle. She stood there with a hand on her hip, her blonde hair pinned in a bun at the top of her head.

“You do realize there’s a sensor on the door?” There was laughter in her voice. “And a camera. I’ve been staring at your distressed face for almost five minutes.” Alarm must have flashed through his expression, because she snorted. “Don’t worry, she’s not here right now.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Romelle,” he said with little-to-no enthusiasm. The girl continued to grin at his misery, stepping aside so Lance could walk into the room. “When did you even get here?”

She moved to the bed, where several books were scattered around, and plopped back against the pile of pillows. Around the room, machinery parts and clothing pieces battled for the floorspace. It was an aspect of Pidge that never changed, the organized chaos of her room that no doubt reflected that brilliant mind of hers.

“Keith stopped by Altea to pick me up. Hunk wanted me to bring some produce from that quadrant, because Colleen’s last harvest was apparently jeopardized by a flood a junior botanist caused.” Romelle shrugged. “Katie didn’t know the specifics.”

Her use of Pidge’s given name no longer surprised Lance. People around the Garrison usually referred to the Holts by their titles, since their ranks within the organization demanded a certain level of reverence, but many of their colleagues from the war still called her Katie. Especially those who spent their time with Sam and Colleen, like Romelle.

“Have you seen Hunk and Matt yet?” Lance took a seat on the couch. It was old and gray, but comfortable enough. He and Shiro had dragged it into Pidge’s dorm after one too many nights of eating dinner on the floor.

The blonde shook her head. “Hunk and Shay are grabbing me for lunch and Matt is busy with his girlfriend.” She leaned against the headboard and, although her posture remained relaxed, the look in her eyes spoke of mischief. “Katie said I could chill –” she made quotation marks with her hands – “here while I waited, but if I’m interrupting something…”

Lance gave a spastic wave of his arms that probably did nothing to deny her suspicions. It was just his luck that Romelle was there again. She’d already witnessed his struggle when asking Allura out and now she could see right through him.

“Interrupting?” He forced a laugh. “Nah! It’s fine! Always good to see a friendly face!”

Romelle didn’t have the skill to emulate Pidge’s unimpressed look, but being best friends with Matt had certainly helped her get close to it. However, she also didn’t seem invested enough in his drama to pry, going back to digging through the books.

“I’m sure it was not 

 face you had hoped to see,” she commented nonchalantly, still looking down at the different covers. “Alas, it is what it is. Katie is in a meeting, so you might as well keep me company.”

Lance frowned at her, but chose not to follow through with the subject. “What are those books for?”

“It turns out that an education based around the teachings of a megalomaniac prince did not actually cover as much astrology as I had hoped.” Romelle looked down at her palms. There was an edge to her smile that Lance was sad to recognize as self-deprecation. “Hunk helps with what he can, but Matt and Katie are the real connoisseurs, apparently, so they gave me some material from when they were younger.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s a lot.”

“I’m really proud of you.” Lance smiled at her, a little awkward. “Allura would be, too.”

“What? Where did that come from?” Romelle made a face at him, but she was smiling as well. “I am simply trying to do my best. There is a lot I don’t know.”

“Yeah, but you’ve done your best since I met you and it’s always been enough.” Lance shrugged, shifting his gaze to the whiteboard that hung over Pidge’s bed. The equations there meant nothing to him. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to stop Lotor or Honerva. Besides, the Holts are very selective of the people they like. They don’t just take on hopeless cases.”

Romelle blew out a breath. Their eyes met tentatively, as they were both embarrassed by the situation. “You know, it is surprisingly easy to forget that you are a good person.”

“I’ve been told,” he deadpanned, much to the Altean’s amusement.

“Look, I do not need you to cheer me up. I appreciate it, but you can keep your compliments for Katie, who we both know would enjoy them more.” Even as she said this, it was clear that Romelle felt a little better. She picked up one of the books. “If you want to help, just quiz me on chapter ten.”

Lance got up from the couch to accept the book, grinning when he recognized the title. “Hey, I know this one!” He sat back down and flipped to the table of contents. “Yeah, I had to read this for a summer course I took when I was fourteen. That’s when I met Hunk,” he added for Romelle’s benefit.

“Hm, funny, that one is Matt’s.” She kneeled on the bed to look at the cover. “And there was one of Katie’s ribbons in it, so I believe she also read it.”

“One of her ribbons?” Lance frowned at her in curiosity. He had never seen Pidge carry ribbons around, but what would have been a ridiculous image in their teen years was now utterly charming. It was lovely to find out these small details about her.

“Yes. She used them to mark the pages when younger. There, there!” Romelle pointed to the book until Lance reached a page where a green ribbon laid across the words. She grinned. “Isn’t it adorable?”

It was.

At the same time, it reminded him of the difficulties Pidge had undergone during middle school and how she had only had Matt and her parents to rely on. Had she read her brother’s book as a way to escape the words of her colleagues? Or had she loved space so fiercely even then that her time of leisure was spent going through Matt’s training material?

“Do you think this is when their little feud over color-coding started?” Romelle broke him out of these thoughts. She had opened another one of the books and was flipping through the pages absent-mindedly. “I swear to the moons of Cobturg, if I have to listen to their arguments about this one more time, I–”

There was a beep and the door to the room opened once more, shutting Romelle up at once. Pidge took a second to look them over, before dropping her purse down at the coffee table.

“Why do you look so guilty?” She narrowed her eyes at Romelle, who let out a noise of protest, as if to say ‘Who? Me?’.

Lance went to her rescue. “She was telling me about the ribbons you used to collect.” He held up the green fabric, grinning. “Who would have thought? Our Pidge Gunderson was actually a normal, little girl once.”

Her hair was short again. It looked different, though, more put-together than the hairstyle she had used during their time in space. He supposed her responsibilities in the Garrison demanded a more polished appearance, but he kind of missed the disarray.

She looked very pretty like this. In fact, the overall effect of her wide-legged slacks, light-blue blouse, the hair and the boots left him feeling a little dazed.

Pidge rolled her eyes and made a grab for the ribbon, but Lance stood up and pulled it out of reach. She almost lost her balance from his sudden movement, putting a knee up on the couch to keep in place.

“Did you really come in here just to test my patience?” she asked, still standing in front of him.

Lance clicked his tongue playfully. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing you blush in anger.” He waved the ribbon around, smirking. “You make a beautiful tomato.”

“She’s more of a strawberry, really,” Romelle pointed out from her perch on the bed. She gestured towards her face. “It’s the little dots.”

“Those are called freckles.” Pidge pushed away from the couch and towards the Altean. “You were supposed to be studying, not ganging up with Lance to bother me.”

Romelle’s face dropped into an impressively effective look of anguish. “But it’s boring to study by myself.” She grabbed Pidge’s hands, swinging their arms lightly. “You promised I could do your hair before I left!”

Pidge glanced at him over her shoulder. Whether it was because she thought Lance might help her or simply because she was mortified by the idea of doing something so girly in front of him, he couldn’t tell. Before he could intervene, however, there was another beep from the door, then a knock.

“That must be Hunk,” Pidge declared, jumping away from Romelle.

The blonde rolled her eyes, but slid out of the bed and opened a small panel on the wall, where a screen was hidden. From behind her, Lance could see Hunk and Shay talking on the video feed.

“Saved by the bell,” he heard Pidge mutter under her breath.

“Aw, come on, Pidgeon.” Lance aimed a shit-eating grin at her, knowing it was easier to taunt her into things than to simply ask. “Now I want to see you looking all primped up!”

The girl did not back down. She puffed up her chest, lips set into a line, and turned to face him fully. “You’re supposed to be on my side here!” Then, in a lower voice, “I don’t want to set miss excitable over there loose with a brush!”

“I will have you know –” Romelle waggled a finger in the air – “that everyone in our crew thinks very highly of my styling skills. Is it not true?”

She whipped around to prod at her two teammates, who had just been let into the room. Hunk looked doubtful, but Shay nodded her head solemnly.

“Her hair is widely regarded as the most luscious and well-kept of our ship,” Shay declared with all the straight-faced earnestness that could be expected from a rock-person.

“She and Hunk are the only ones who have hair!” Pidge threw her hands up in frustration.

Lance felt himself chuckle. He barely ever got to see the interactions between this group. During his time at the farm, the only occasion when he saw everyone together was on the day they celebrated the end of the war. It hurt a little to think of all the events he’d lost while in Cuba or on his travels.

“How much harm can she really do?” He approached Pidge and ran a hand through her hair, letting the ends curl around his fingers. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”

Pidge eyed him carefully and, though her countenance betrayed nothing, Lance was sure he’d felt her shudder at his touch.

“My hair is too short to do more than stubby ponytails,” she continued her objections. “It would be far from beautiful.”

“I don’t know…” He gave her a wink and, this time, red flooded her cheeks. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing anyone could do to make you not beautiful.”

“I changed my mind.” The interruption froze him in place, hand still on the nape of Pidge’s neck. “Get me out of here,” Romelle said to the other two, ignoring the glare Lance sent her way. “Before I scream.”

Hunk choked out a laugh. “Elle, you haven’t seen the worst of it.”

Lance pulled his hand back quickly. He hadn’t meant to act so impulsively, not in front of their friends at least. The only excuse he could find was that their antics had filled him to the brim with affection and now it spilled out, untamed.

“Don’t you three have a lunch to get to?” Pidge pushed her glasses up, moving away from Lance and further into the room. She stopped by her bedside table and fiddled with a tablet that had been lying there.

Surprisingly, Romelle let her avoidance pass without comment. She gave Pidge a long look, before voicing her agreement. “I’m taking these two to that coffeeshop you and I go from time to time.” There was something strangely emphatic about how she was speaking. “They have a new dessert I want Hunk to try and replicate.”

Pidge tensed, still not looking up from the tablet. “You mean the one we discovered with Allura.”

Lance and Hunk shared a look of confusion and dread. From the way Romelle’s expression twisted, it didn’t seem like that kind of despondency was what she had been trying to evoke. And Shay, bless her heart, appeared to be at a loss and kept shifting her gaze between the four of them, waiting for an explanation.

“Should we go, then?” she asked, uncertain. Romelle gave a quick nod and turned her face away from them. The frown she sported appeared out-of-place in the usually bright Altean.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Pidge had sat down on her bed and her eyes zeroed in on Romelle. “We can talk more then.”

The two girls nodded at each other.

As they traded goodbyes, Hunk sidled up to Lance, giving him an all-enveloping hug. They had talked earlier that morning, but Lance’s impending confession put him out-of-sorts. It was a nice hug, another aspect of the Garrison life that he’d missed: his friend, the support he gave, his unyielding belief on the people he loved.

Hunk held him in the hug for a second. “Don’t let her get away, dude.” They separated, but his friend kept going. “Not like this.”

And then he and Shay were gone.

Romelle stopped at the door. She turned to give Lance a considering look. “You mentioned Allura earlier. Wherever she may be, she would have wanted nothing but your happiness.” Her eyes shifted to something behind him and Lance could almost feel Pidge’s uneasiness at the stare. “That goes for the both of you.”

The door closed behind her, leaving those last words to hang in the air.

“Will you tell me what that was about?” Lance crossed the room to sit by Pidge. He poked her knee until she looked up at him.

“Can I pretend that it was just Romelle being Romelle?” Her eyes were sad as she said this. He almost gave in, but his worry spoke louder than his sympathy.

“I might not know her as you do, but I doubt Romelle would say anything to hurt you.” He grimaced. “Not intentionally.”

“Intentional or not, I just think she’s meddling where she’s not wanted.” The sharpness in her voice made Lance flinch.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I am sick of people acting like they know what’s best for me.” Pidge wrapped her arms around herself. It was such an uncharacteristic gesture for her that Lance wasn’t sure what to say. “I am happy. Who is she to doubt that?”

“Your friend?” he offered, keeping his voice soft.

Pidge normally handled obstacles with a bull-headedness that most feared. She and Romelle had this in common, the fierceness that had sent them travelling through the galaxies to ensure justice was made for their families. His friend couldn’t see the hypocrisy in her claim that the Altean was being meddlesome when Pidge’s own curiosity had often led her to intrude on other people’s matters.

She was a very private person and almost completely indifferent to gossip, true, but she went above and beyond for what did spark her interest.

“Romelle being my friend gives her the right to question my judgement?” Pidge sent him a fulminating look, before turning her eyes away.

“A little.” Lance chuckled to himself, despite receiving an elbow to the side for his answer. “C’mon, don’t act as if you guys didn’t question my actions after the war!”

“Aren’t our circumstances a little different?” Her voice was dry as the Arizona desert. “It’s not like I’m burying myself in work or something. I just…” She forced out a breath. “I’m satisfied with my life. I have friends and my family is safe and I’m respected in the Garrison. What more does she want from me?”

Lance just looked at her. In many ways, Pidge was right. She was still very young, despite having lived through so much, and there would be time for adventures or romance or whatever Romelle had wanted for her.

Still, the notion caused something to ache in his chest. He wanted Romelle’s words to be about him.

Since his return, many of their colleagues had insinuated that there was something more between him and Pidge, and Lance had allowed it. He loved her sincerely, but he’d spent the past year swallowing flirtatious remarks, afraid to scare her off. The rumors about them had seemed like a good way to put the idea into Pidge’s head, even as she grew more and more upset with the comments.

“She mentioned the coffeeshop because she wanted to remind me of a conversation we had when we first went there,” Pidge confessed as the silence stretched between them. “About something I wanted all those years ago.”

“What was it?” Lance frowned at her.

“Nothing that matters. I couldn’t have it then and I can’t have it now.” She didn’t look away from him, this time, and their locked gazes sent electricity down Lance’s spine. There was a heaviness in her eyes that made them look dark, even in the well-lit room.

Lance reached for her hand, pulling her arm away from her middle and onto his lap. He played with her fingers; the ribbon lied forgotten over his thigh.

“Pidgeon, I’ve never known you to give up on what you want.” He smiled at her, feeling a wave of fondness shoot through him. Her hand twisted in his grip, as if she’d meant to close it into a fist.

“I thought I was over it,” Pidge whispered, more to herself than to him.

Lance worked his jaw, hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted the look she was giving him. He could swear her eyes had lowered to his mouth for a fraction of a second. It made his whole body feel hot, like a burning star had settled in his chest and turned the blood in his veins into pure heat.

The implication was not lost in him. Had Pidge liked him back then? Had that affection survived the years of his self-imposed isolation?

“I think –” he started, eyes unable to leave her face – “that some things are worth the wait.” And then, without breaking eye contact, Lance lifted Pidge’s hand to his mouth and kissed her pulse.

The reaction was instantaneous. Color rushed up her complexion, an uneven redness that Lance had taunted her about in their younger years and that now seemed disproportionally attractive. In this bubble of heat they created, Lance felt he could see her brilliance clearer than ever.

Pidge was beautiful, not only because of how she looked, but because of who she was.

Because he was looking so closely, Lance could tell the exact moment her bewilderment dwindled. Her eyes hardened, her mouth curved down.

“Can you not?” she snapped, shaking away his grip to stand up.

“Not what?” Lance stared at her back as fear welled up inside him.

“Not stand so close. Not touch me like that.” Pidge waved her arms around as she spoke. “Not get my hopes up when I know you don’t mean it.”

“How could you possibly think I don’t mean it?” It was his turn to sound indignant.

“Because you’re loverboy Lance! You go after these bombshell women, with their long limbs and their poise…” She struggled to finish her thought, groaning. “I don’t want to be another one of your conquests!”

“Is that what you really think of me?” He felt angry at the possibility. This was Pidge, someone who should know Lance better than the average, Voltron-show-watching acquaintance. She knew he hadn’t really gone into relationships in the past few years, still healing from Allura’s death.

“I don’t know what to think.” She stopped moving, letting her arms hang at her sides. Despite the defeat in her stance, when Pidge looked at him, there was pride in how she held her chin. “I know who I am. I am intelligent and brave and reliable. But I’m not nice,” she said the word with a hint of repulse, “or patient or charming.”

“Of course I know that!” Lance had to hold back a grimace. That hadn’t come out quite right. “But you wanna know what else you are?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You’re the girl who always called me out on my bullshit. The one who has saved my ass more times than I can count, who helped me study for my piloting exams.” He lowered his tone, calming down a little. “You’re the girl who came to meet me at the farm every month to bring all the games I had missed in the US.”

Pidge still didn’t look completely convinced, but she didn’t dodge him when Lance approached.

“The releases always came out late in Varadero,” she interjected with a frown.

He laughed at her excuse. “You came because you wanted to make sure I was okay. Then, after I was done wallowing, you were the one who flew out to meet me in Greece and Korea and Chile.” He took her hand, feeling more confident. “And every time we met up, it was like my body relaxed. Ah,” he acted out, “I’m finally here. With my best friend.”

“That’s just it, Lance. I’m your friend.” Pidge studied his expression with furrowed brows. “You may be feeling – I don’t know! Moved by how close we’ve gotten?” She shook her head. “But I was in love with you for three years before I could accept that you’d only ever have eyes for Allura.”

“We’ve talked about this, Katie.” He kept his grasp on her hand, even as Pidge tried to move away. She had grown uncomfortable with his use of her name. “I did love Allura, but she’s gone. I deserve to go after what I want, too.”

“And what you want is me?” she sounded unconvinced.

“How can you be so smart and still so dense?” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “Everyone sees it. Hunk, Shiro, even Keith!” He sighed. “Even Romelle. Today, she wasn’t making fun of you or scolding you or whatever that exceptional and traumatized brain of yours came up with.” Lance had to hold up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “Romelle was trying to encourage me.”

Pidge stood there and, although she was quiet, her eyes remained sharp. Lance feared that he’d gone too far, but he knew rationally that Pidge had already exposed all she had to say and that it was up to him to erase her doubts.

He raised his unoccupied hand to cup her cheek. Pidge’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “How can you be so sure that we will be fine after this?”

Lance leaned down to press a kiss against her eyelashes, then her cheeks, then the corner of her mouth. He heard her inhale sharply and hold the breath. Feeling her reactions to him right under his palm was a kind of inebriation he’d never experienced before.

“I know,” Lance let his lips drag against her skin, “because I’ve committed myself to seeing you happy.” He put some space between them so that he could look into her eyes. The flushed vibrancy of Pidge’s complexion made an image that stupefied him. “Even if that means I turn away right now.”

Her hands snaked up his chest to rest on Lance’s neck, pulling him down. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he couldn’t resist asking, a smile tugging at his lips. Pidge rolled her eyes but didn’t push away when Lance rested his forehead against hers.

“Don’t go.” She was the one to kiss the corner of his mouth, now. “Stay.”

They met in the middle.

Lance felt her hands curl into the collar of his shirt as they kissed, her lips pushing softly against his. The touch was unbearably tender, starting a tingle that ran up and down his back. In return, he used the hand that wasn’t on her cheek to hold Pidge against him. He drew circles on the fabric of her blouse, thankful that it was fine enough to feel the give of her skin underneath.

Pidge’s lips moved slowly on his, drawing out the sensation of that first contact. It was Lance who could no longer curb his want and he licked into her mouth, once, twice, until she was chasing his tongue with her own. Pidge sighed into the kiss, dragging a hand down over his chest.

He’d had kisses before – soft and passionate and frenzied and meaningless –, but the feel of Pidge’s body against him and the affection Lance held for her had ignited a spark inside of him that spread heat all over. It was the star, back again, now that there were no more secrets between them.

His smile broke the kiss and they parted, panting.

“So…” Lance let both of his hands rest on her waist. The smugness that grew within him must have shown in his expression, because Pidge looked immediately on guard. “When did you fall for me?” He traced a line down her back with his thumb. “I’m pretty sure I heard something about liking me for three years.”

Pidge pushed at his chest, walking him backwards. “Not telling.”

“Can’t I convince you?” He was trying to go for seductive, but the girl merely laughed.

“Don’t you have more pressing matters to focus on?” She continued to move them until Lance’s legs hit the edge of the bed. He blinked down at her.

“Think you can distract me?” He shot her a smirk. Despite the more sensual undertone it carried, challenges weren’t new between them. It comforted Lance that their dynamics had adjusted so easily to this new aspect of their relationship.

Pidge gave a final push, making him sit down on the bed. He had to brace himself against the mattress.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” she said, sarcasm thick on her voice. And then she climbed into Lance’s lap, a knee on each side of his thighs.

He felt his throat go dry and swallowed instinctively. The new position put her mouth just a little higher than his, making Lance tilt his head back to capture her lips.

“You know…” His voice came out strangled. “I always did like the way you think.”

When Pidge leaned over him, the feel of her hips lowering on his almost made him choke. A more conscious part of his brain was not surprised by her boldness, but it did nothing to calm his stammering heart.

“Just shut up, loverboy,” she muttered against his lips, even as their smiles made it difficult to really get into the kiss. Laughter bubbled up in him and Lance continued to kiss Pidge as her own giggles erupted. There was joy in her mouth and in his chest and in every point of contact between them.

--

“Oh, I’d forgotten about this.” Lance picked up the green piece of fabric that peaked out from behind a metal plaque.

Pidge glanced up at him, but her attention quickly shifted back to the code she’d been working on.

“Mom left a bunch of books for Romelle here. I think that’s where the ribbons are coming from.”

Lance smiled. He loved how casually they’d fallen into their relationship. As a young boy, he’d fantasized about girlfriends who fawned over him and his accomplishments, but, after so many years as an intergalactic authority, he had learned to appreciate how domestic they had become.

On moments like this, when it was just the two of them behind a closed door, each preoccupied with their own responsibilities, it was their friendship that he valued the most.

“They’re cute,” he exclaimed happily.

Pidge gave him a look of suspicion. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m serious!” Lance squirmed on the bed until he sidled up to her. “My first love also liked ribbons. It’s one of the things I remember the most about her, the green ribbon in her hair.”

“Are you comparing me to your first girlfriend?” Pidge sounded completely done with him and Lance couldn’t really blame her. “Even I know that’s a no-no in a relationship.”

“I’m not comparing anything!” He waved his hands defensively.

Pidge knocked their shoulders together in teasing. They’d only been together for two weeks, but Lance doubted he would ever see her truly jealous, not due to his mindless chatter at least. She and Hunk had told him that Pidge had shown signs of jealousy during their time in the Castle, but Lance couldn’t recall them for the life of him.

It was endlessly frustrating.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Pidge lifted his arm and put it around her, burying into Lance’s side.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” He ran his fingers up and down her skin, feeling the goosebumps that formed at his touch. “Fate was kind when it put you in my life.”

Lance dipped down to nibble at her ear, then trailed kisses over the column of her neck. Pidge giggled in his arms, ticklish and embarrassed at her reactions.

“Down, boy.” She pressed a finger to his nose, pushing him back a bit. He pouted at her, trying to entice Pidge into another kiss. “Are you gonna be this tacky every time I say something sarcastic?”

“For as long as you keep finding it attractive,” he retorted. Lance knew he was being conceited, but he couldn’t help it. There was no ego-boost quite like the sounds his girlfriend made when she was underneath him in one of their beds, mouths and hands fervent in their paths.

In a quick movement, he’d captured the tip of her finger between his teeth, biting playfully. It sent Pidge into a bout of laughter, which had her pushing Lance’s face away as he continued to pepper kisses on her palms, her arms, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so freaking silly, sometimes!” Pidge draped her legs across his, locking him in place. “Why are you trying to catch my attention, anyway?”

Lance leaned back against the headboard, putting his hands on her calves. She was still in her pajamas; an oversized t-shirt and blue shorts that reached mid-thigh. It was more skin than Pidge normally showed, just another sign of how comfortable she was with him.

“I’m a little bored.” He scrunched up his nose, knowing that wasn’t a reason Pidge would accept. She tried to kick him on the arm, but Lance held on. “Hey! I’m done with the flight plans and you’ve been on your laptop since I got here! I’ve been good!”

“You just tried to make out with me,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I was being good and now I want attention,” Lance corrected shamelessly.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him, but closed her laptop and settled it next to them on the bed. She scooted a bit closer, until she was sitting on Lance’s lap with her arms around his neck.

“So quiet,” she taunted. One of her nails scraped just underneath his ear, making Lance groan. “And sensitive.”

“You’re a little devil.” He dropped his head on her shoulder.

“I finally found a way to shut you up.” Pidge’s carefree laughter rang right in his ear. Since their days as students, it never failed to bring him a sense of accomplishment. No one could distract Pidge quite like him. “I’ll use it how I see fit.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his nape.

Disgruntled, Lance straightened his posture and caught her lips more firmly, tracing the roof of her mouth with his tongue. Pidge responded with no hesitance and her hands dug into his shoulders to hold him in.

Despite the ease with which they fit, this was as far as Lance had tried to go. Kisses and small touches and gasps that left his entire body burning. Although Pidge had gone on a few dates while he was away, Lance was achingly aware that she was still somewhat inexperienced.

More than that, he knew two weeks could not erase insecurities that were born from years watching him flirt with other girls. He felt ashamed of how crass he might have been in front of Pidge, but he had been young and stupid and copying behaviors from men he’d once admired.

He was thankful for his teammates. Lance knew he was a better man for having known Shiro’s integrity and Hunk’s warmth and Keith’s honesty. Coran had shown him there was pride in being genuine. Allura had taught him about the reality of love. Most of all, he was thankful for Pidge and how she’d kept him in line.

They parted slowly, and Lance surged forward one last time to give a peck to Pidge’s lips. She smiled in amusement.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “We don’t have to be at Shiro’s until dinner.”

Lance checked his watch. They still had a few hours, but he wanted to get something to eat before then. He’d come into Pidge’s room at noon to find she had just woken up, and his girlfriend had refused to go out before she made some progress on a program for Chip. She’d devoured a bag of chips while she worked, but that was not real food.

“We should grab a late lunch somewhere.” Lance disentangled himself from Pidge, much to her discontentment. “And then I need to get you some fruit or granola bars or something for this room.”

“If I need anything, I usually go to the cafeteria or one of the vending machines.” She shrugged, but accepted the hand Lance offered to pull her up.

“And you have the audacity to question my eating habits.” He sent her a sidelong glare.

“You might be able to cook, but it doesn’t count when the only thing you actually prepare is pasta.” Pidge continued to rifle through the clothes on the floor. Then, not finding anything she wanted, she moved to the wardrobe. “Before entering your pantry, I had only ever seen so much tomato sauce on supermarket shelves.”

Lance wanted to defend himself, but Pidge chose this moment to take the edge of her t-shirt and pull it out. It left her in only a bra and shorts, a sight that Lance couldn’t look away from. Her breasts were small but proportional to her petite frame and her skin was even fairer over her chest, ribs and stomach. The overall effect had Lance choking on air.

Pidge laughed as she pulled a dress over her head.

“That was on purpose!” Lance accused, once he’d found his voice.

“You wouldn’t take off my shirt yesterday, so I thought I would give you a taste, then leave you hanging. See how you like it.” She went to look herself over in the bathroom mirror.

“I was being a gentleman!” He puffed out his cheeks. Pidge loved to make things difficult for him, didn’t she?

“Lance, I love you.” She momentarily turned away from her reflection to look at him. “I have trusted you with my life and my heart. Do you really think I don’t trust you with my body?”

When Pidge said things like that, it always sounded completely logical, but relationships weren’t something one could rationalize their way through.

Lance went to stand behind her, resting his hands on the line where her grey dress flared out. Pidge looked very sensible and very beautiful in the high neckline, with how it left her arms exposed.

“I think I want you to believe how much I love you,” he answered, turning her around, “before we do anything you haven’t done yet.”

Her amber eyes were narrowed as she looked at him, but Lance didn’t back down. She eventually heaved a sigh and he could tell he’d won the argument.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a sap.”

“Hey, you knew who I was before!” Lance let her walk past him and back to the bed. “You signed up for this, Pidgeon!”

“Are you ready to go?” She pulled on her sneakers, glaring at him half-heartedly. At her side, Lance caught sight of the green ribbon again.

“Sure, but I think you’re missing something.” At Pidge’s look of confusion, he marched up to her and picked up the ribbon, waving it in the air.

“Really?” she deadpanned at him.

Lance chuckled, already gathering her hair with the fabric. “I just want to see how it looks.” He tied a bow on top of Pidge’s head, snickering. “That really is adorable.”

She frowned up at him and raised a hand to feel what he’d done, then groaned.

“That’s not how I used to wear it!” Pidge protested, already fumbling with the style until the fabric slipped down her short hair.

“Show me, then.” Lance propped his chin on his hand.

Pidge huffed, but laid the ribbon across her hair like a headband, tying a knot on one side and letting the excess fabric hang loose. “There!” she stated with a flourish. “Much less childish.”

“Huh.” Lance stared at her in puzzlement. “That’s… Huh.”

“Does it look that bad?” She patted at her hair. “I haven’t done this since I was thirteen.”

“No!” His answer was hurried. “It just… looks exactly how Italian girl wore it.”

Pidge blinked at him. “Italian girl?”

“My first love. I think I told you about her.” He couldn’t really shake the familiarity of the green ribbon against her reddish-brown hair. “We met in this Space Camp I went to in Miami. Ronie had a research position there and she dragged me along.”

“You’re talking about the Bouman Aeronautics Research Institute.”

Now it was just getting freaky. Pidge, too, looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Yeah…” Lance scratched the back of his neck. “How do you know that?”

“Because my father was a lecturer and Matt was also in the research program.” She sounded just as bewildered as he was. “You’re Spanish boy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. Now that they were talking about it, Lance could see the similarities that he’d missed so far. It was no wonder he’d always liked Pidge’s eyes; he could still remember how they shone in the sunlight.

“Are you actually Italian girl?” He sat down, still in shock.

“I cannot believe that we’ve known each other this whole time.” Pidge threw her head back, laughing. He soon joined her. The situation was just ridiculous.

“And you didn’t want me to believe in fate.” Lance grinned at her. Pidge still wore the green ribbon in her hair and the color contrasted nicely against her features. Maybe it was because he still remembered how she had been as Italian girl, but the image made him feel unexpectedly soft.

“Oh good grief,” she exclaimed suddenly, eyes wide, “I’m the reason you believe in fate!” He burst out laughing again while Pidge swatted at his arm. “It’s not funny! It’s actually awful!”

“Well,” Lance said once he was able to control himself, “at least you can stop thinking you’re not my type. I fell for you twice!”

“You fell for a pretty girl in a dress that you met when you were a child.” Pidge snorted, standing up to grab her purse. Lance clutched her hand with gentle fingers and stopped her from turning away.

“I fell for a smart girl who helped me realize my worth. Twice.” He winked. “Though it certainly didn’t hurt that she was pretty.”

Pidge shook her head disapprovingly, but still leaned down to kiss him, lips moving in a tempting pace against his. When she pulled back, Lance tried to follow.

He felt dazed by their discovery, but not completely blind-sighted. Pidge had always intrigued him, even right at the start. It had taken time for Lance to recognize the feelings he developed for her, like it had with Italian girl, and then he was already in the middle of it, too into her to stop himself from acting stupid.

It might have been the quintessence stored in him or just wishful thinking, but he thought Allura, too, would be cheering for them.

Pidge pulled at his hand until Lance stood up. She looked a bit red, a bit breathless.

“We’ll finish this later, you Casanova.” And she sealed the promise with another kiss.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #lidge #cyance #voltron #pidge gunderson #katie holt #voltron legendary defender #vld lance #lance mcclain #vld #vld fanfiction #vld syl verse

[wanderinginksplot]

Loved your Hondo and Aurra one, can you write something with cad bane being enamored by a new bounty Hunter or something of the like?

Okay, so this ended up almost a thousand words longer than I meant it to be! Still, I hope you enjoy!

The Bounty

Bane hated Coruscant. The whole cursed planet was a city and the teeming life made the reptile in him want to get as far away as he could and just curl up in the sun. But bounty hunters - even the best ones in the galaxy - had to work sometimes, and the Triple Zero had more prime targets than any other planet.

He was walking down a side street on one of the mid-levels in search of his current bounty. Despite Todo’s fretting, he and the droid were safer here than anywhere above or below. He had to give his target credit: they knew how to hide. The level was high enough that there was no need to watch your back just so no one would stab it, but disreputable enough that someone hiding from the authorities wouldn’t stand out.

Still, Bane was in a foul mood, and it was only getting worse as he continued to be unable to find his target. After he circled the same filthy block for the fourth time, Bane let out a blistering curse.

“Are you Cad Bane?” 

He whirled, hands resting on the butts of his blaster pistols as he cursed himself. How long had it been since someone had managed to sneak up on him? Too long to start making stupid mistakes now. 

“Who’s askin’?” he growled, scanning the dark alleyway. His red, slit-pupiled eyes adjusted better to the gloom than those of most other species, but even he had trouble picking out the speaker until they moved.

As the shadowed form stepped closer, Bane noted with some distaste that it was a human female. Duros had invented hyperdrives and had settled all across the galaxy, but it was the humans who were the most prevalent species. Nothing in the universe was fair.

This particular human looked to be nothing special. Her hair hung in limp strands - probably due to the humidity from the steam vents several buildings away - and her clothes looked like they had seen days in levels a lot lower than this one.

“I have some information for you,” she said, her voice pleasantly low and pitched to avoid being overheard.

“I’m sure,” Bane snorted.

“It’s good information,” she assured. “Worth a credit or two?”

“Dat’s not how dis works, girlie,” he said with a menacing chuckle, drawing one of the blasters and aiming in less time than it took to breathe. “Tell me da information an’ I’ll decide what it’s worth.”

She looked frightened, but nodded. “Th- There’s another bounty hunter after your target. I was sent to warn you that the guild gave out t-two biometric fobs.”

“Who sent ya tah warn me?” Bane demanded, absolutely livid. First, he was ousted as the Fett brat's godfather, and now the guild had issued another fob for his target? Ridiculous and insulting. Maybe that's why he was pressing the human female so hard, and why he hadn't put his blaster away yet. 

“I don’t know, I swear!” she answered quickly. “He just pointed you out to me, gave me some credits, and told me what to tell you. Please don’t kill me!” She fell to her knees with the plea. Her actual skragging knees. 

Bane shot her a disgusted look and holstered his blaster. In a few steps, he was at her side and tugged her roughly to her feet. She was heavier than she looked, but he had no problem getting her to stand - or keeping her close, even when she had started to struggle in an effort to get away from him. 

"Are ya lyin' tah me, girl?" She shook her head frantically, but he noted with a spike of deep-buried interest that she had glanced at his mouth. It wasn't uncommon for people to mix up fear and interest, especially on a lower level of Coruscant. 

Bane knew he had nothing to fear from this small human. He could read her every thought in her wide eyes and the expressions on her honest face. There was no reason not to have a little fun.

He pulled her closer, so close that the brim of his hat brushed her forehead as he continued, "So ya just thought to trick some extra credits outta me?"

"Uh, Master?" Todo chirped irritatingly.

"Shut up, droid," Bane snapped irritably as her gaze slid over to the techno-service droid instead of being fixed on Bane's own red eyes. He missed their weight, their heat. "D'ya know what I do tah people who try tah trick me?"

And there it was, her gaze flirted to his mouth again and lingered, just for a moment. 

"How ‘bout ya earn those credits a different way?" 

Offense crossed her face. "I'm not a-"

He lunged in for a kiss before she could tell him what she wasn't. 

Duros didn't put much stock in kissing as an expression of anything, but it was the best way Bane knew of getting humans in the right headspace for more… inter-species recreation. 

"Master," Todo said urgently and Bane fought a sigh. He hated the droid sometimes, but it was right. He had a target to find and now, there was a deadline.

He nipped at the human's lower lip with his sharp teeth and pulled away. "I've gotta go take care-a dis. See ya around."

She blinked up at him, looking rumpled and more than a bit confused. "But-"

"Master!" 

"Shut up, droid," Bane snapped. "Can't ya see I'm goin'?"

When he turned back, the female was leaving. Bane spared a single thought for her, wishing momentarily that he had gotten her name, but he had bigger things to focus on. He had to find his bounty, cause some pain to the guild member who had issued a second fob, and figure out why he couldn't feel the vibroblade in his boot.

Wait…

Bane patted himself down and found that he was missing the pouch with his credits, the vibroblade from his boot, and the tracking fob. 

"Master," Todo said again. "I've been trying to tell you: that girl was stealing from you!"

Bane hissed, whipping around to fix his gaze on the female. She was just rounding the corner of a building and saw him looking her way. Rather than the fearful look she had worn through their interaction, she grinned and sent a triumphant wink his way.

"Next time, just tell me!" Bane snapped, running after her. "Now I gotta track an unknown through da planet!"

"I traced the water from her hair while you were… occupied," Todo volunteered. "I believe she came from the steam vents three blocks west."

Bane changed directions and picked up speed, Todo soaring through the air beside him giving directions. At a certain point, he slowed, “I cannot go further. The steam will short out my circuits.”

“Fine, just wait dere,” Bane ordered over his shoulder. “Dis won’t take long.”

When Bane got to the steam vents, he immediately recognized the female's silhouette standing next to a nondescript, illegally parked ship. She was facing the opposite direction, speaking into a comlink hidden under her grimy sleeve. 

"Well, keep me updated," she said, clearly disappointed with the person on the other end of the line.

Bane was on her before she could lower her arm, twisting her around. However, her reflexes were better than he had expected, and she turned and kicked him away in the same moment. Still, Bane hadn’t lived this long being taken by surprise. He grabbed her shoulders as he was pushed back, and levered her along with him. In the end, his balance was caught by a wall, and his grip pulled her against him until there was not an inch of space between their bodies. 

"Gimme one good reason I shouldn't blast ya to pieces right now," he snarled in her face, one blaster already drawn and pressed to her temple.

Though this was a lot less friendly than the last time they had been so close, she wore a crooked little smile. “Because I can give back everything I took?”

“Yeah? An’ how is dat gonna make up fer da fact dat ya thought it’d be smart tah steal from me?”

The smile widened and took on a saucy look. “I think I more than made up for it back there. And there’s more where that came from. But first! Credits, fob…”

She hesitated before handing over the vibroblade. “I really like the knife. Any chance I could keep it?”

“I could shoot ya right now an’ no one would blink - least of all, me,” Bane hissed.

She pouted a bit, but passed the blade back. “Now, where were we?” she purred, moving as if to slide her hands up Bane’s arms.

Bane knocked her hands away and her comlink went off. She hit the button that allowed it to transmit, and Bane was less than thrilled, “I didn’t tell ya tah answer that.”

“We’re clear,” the comlink said.

“Who’s clear-a what?” he asked suspiciously, the end of the question muffled by the human female’s lips meeting his mouth once more. He obliged her, taking control of the kiss with a hand in her hair, holstering his blaster so he could use the other to angle her jaw.

“Bane,” she moaned at the contact.

Bane broke the kiss and tried not to pant as he said, “Ya got me at a disadvantage, darlin’. Ya know my name, but I never caught yers.”

“Oche,” she told him, giving a mischievous little smirk. “And that’s not the only thing you didn’t catch, bounty hunter.”

He was already furious by the time he tried to reach for her and found his wrists caught in magnetic binders, attached to the wall behind him. 

“Well, that was lovely,” Oche said chipperly. “I do wish I could stay longer. I would love to see if all the rumors about you are true.”

Her gaze drifted downward and Bane growled at her, knowing full well what she would find if she looked too closely.

“Anyway, looks like we’re both done here.” 

As she began to root through his jacket, Bane glowered. “So, ya were tryin’ tah steal my bounty all along.”

“Not really,” Oche said after a thoughtful pause. “It’s more like… a partnership. You found the guy, I got the fob, and Embo got the bounty.”

Embo. Bane should have guessed that the Kyuzo would be one to steal a bounty. He had already tried to steal Bane’s signature wide-hat style. Aloud, he just said, “And when am I gonna get my share-a da payment fer this little partnership?”

“Well, your portion was done on more of a volunteer basis,” she hedged.

Before Bane could tell her how little he cared about volunteering anything, she said, “I’m taking some of your credits, the fob, and the vibroknife. I really did like it.”

As she stepped away, Oche added, “Embo said to tell you thanks for the bounty. He didn’t know if he could find them alone, but you were a big help. And don’t worry, those cuffs will come off as soon as my ship leaves the atmosphere.

With that, she scampered off, climbed into her ship, and blew him a kiss goodbye through the viewport. Bane bared his pointed teeth at her in return.

Oche was right, though: the binders fell off only minutes after her ship had risen through the air. Bane spent only a moment glaring at the sky before he walked back in the direction of his own ship, lost in thought. 

Fett had Wesell, Embo had Oche, even Ohnaka had Sing. Was he the only bounty hunter left in the galaxy who still worked solo? Where was his apprentice?

“Master!” Todo cried, hovering beside the Duros’s face. “Did you find her? Did you get the target?”

“Oh, I gotta target, all right,” Bane said darkly. “An’ I’m not gonna stop ‘til I get ‘er.”

He would find Embo and Oche, he would get his money for the target he had found, and then… Bane and Oche would finish what they had started. 

Whether it would be finished with blasters or something more primal, he wasn’t certain, but it would be finished either way.

#fic request #anonymous fic request #cad bane #todo 360 #bounty hunter #cad bane is easily distracted #for a bounty hunter #original female character #mentioned #embo #jango fett #zam wesell #hondo ohnaka #aurra sing #threats of violence #dubious consent #sfw though #just kissing #and death threats but whatever

[klovenhooves]

Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages, Chapter Five: Words of Affirmation

Johnny yanked open his closet door, eyes searching the sparse offerings, brow furrowed. Behind him, Miguel shifted his weight onto his other foot, face similarly focused, eyes critically searching the clothes.

 “He knows what kind of clothes you wear, Sensei,” he started hopefully. “I don’t think you need to –”

 “So you’re just going to wear whatever, then?” he asked, his tone vaguely snappy, and Miguel pursed his lips. “You and I are both under the microscope, Diaz,” he said, turning back to the closet. “And I am always worse upon closer inspection.”

 “Sensei, don’t be ridiculous,” Miguel reassured, dropping a hand to Johnny’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t like you.”

Which, fine, Johnny could accept that idea, but that didn’t make him feel any less nervous. It certainly didn’t answer the question of what he should wear to this ill-advised get together that he’d been invited to. He was reminded, far too often, of his first date with Ali, where they spent the whole night dancing around the idea of their first kiss, only to chicken out and then not, ultimately ruining the romance the first kiss deserved.

 In the months following, they laughed about that story like it was charming, but it always seemed weird to Johnny. Even now, years later, that was still an indicator of what overthinking could do, and now that he and LaRusso had been interrupted not once but twice, he had to wonder if the actual act would live up to the anticipation.

 “You and Miguel should come to dinner at my place,” Daniel had said over the phone, the tone of his voice alone telling Johnny that he was smiling. “Robby, Sam, and Anthony will be here.”

 “What, like a –” he caught himself before the word ‘date’ could come out, but the silence on the other end of the line told him that Daniel was waiting for him to finish the sentence. Stubbornly, he stayed quiet, Miguel, on his couch, looked at him in confusion.

 “Who is it?” he had mouthed, waving his arms to get Johnny’s attention.

 “It can be whatever you want it to be, John,” Daniel said into the silence that showed no signs of abating. “Will you come?”

 Johnny snapped his jaw shut where it had fallen open against his will. He wasn’t sure when he started to notice the innuendo in some of the things Daniel said, but now that he was aware of it, talking to the man was far more difficult.

 “Johnny?”

 “Sensei, why is your face red?”

 “When?” he asked into the phone, noticing as he spoke how rough his voice sounded. He cleared his throat.

 He could hear Daniel smiling again. “Tomorrow? 7.”

 “You free tomorrow at 7?” he asked Miguel, who looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

 “We’ll be there,” he said, shushing Miguel with a hand, eyes on the coffee table, listening for Daniel’s response.

 “Good,” Daniel said, satisfied. “It’s a date.”

 He hung up before Johnny could respond, but he kept the phone to his ear, spluttering, while Miguel stared at him with a half-smile.

 And now they were here, Johnny quickly realizing that he was probably going to need a beer before he even got to LaRusso’s place if he wanted to keep his cool. Miguel impatiently nudged him out of the way and started flicking through the shirts, making noises under his breath that he couldn’t decipher. Most of them seemed confused, but there were a few scoffs of disbelief in there, too.

 Maybe Johnny should go into his closet and do the same thing, see how the little twerp liked it.

 “Here, wear this one,” Miguel finally said, pulling a baby blue shirt out of the back of Johnny’s closet, so old he’d forgotten it was even there. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”

 “What am I, a girl?” Johnny asked, taking the hanger anyway.

 Miguel chuckled. “No, but you’re in looooooooove,” he drew the word out, dodging the shirt that Johnny threw at him, trotting down the hallway back to the living room.

 “Get out of my house, Diaz,” Johnny called after him, the boy’s laughter as good a response as he was going to get.

 ***

 “Dad, I made you some tea,” Sam gently set the cup on the edge of the coffee table, catching Daniel’s eyes on her way back up. “Chamomile.”

 He smiled at his daughter and took the cup. “That’s so nice, sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” he said, taking a shallow sip of the still-too-hot tea.

 “I did,” she laughed. “You’ve been staring into space for like…half an hour. Figured you needed something to calm you down.”

 “Calm me down?” he asked. “I am calm!”

 She raised her eyebrows. “Sure, and your leg is tapping like that because…?”

 He looked down at his jumping leg and put a hand over it. “Habit,” he said with a shrug.

 “Dad,” she took the tea cup from his hands and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “Sensei Lawrence is coming here. For a date.”

 He laughed nervously. “It’s not a –”

 “I can literally hear all of your phone conversations,” she interrupted with a stern look that reminded him so much of himself. “You’re allowed to be nervous.”

 “Did I tell you that I invited Miguel, too?” he asked.

 “No!” she jumped up from her spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “I forgot!”

 “I’m going on a double date with my dad and his arch nemesis,” she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this.” She snatched his cup of tea off the table. “I need this more than you do now,” she said firmly, taking a long drink before stalking off, shutting her bedroom door solidly behind her.

 Daniel understood how she felt. Was it good to be nervous? Was that a bad sign? He couldn’t figure it out, and the longer he sat there, thinking about it, the closer the clock inched toward 7. He thought about Johnny, leaning on him on the surfboard in the middle of the night, head cradled by his arm. He thought about Robby, excited about the possibility of living with his father after sixteen years without him.

 He thought about Johnny under the stream of the shower, chest rising and falling under his hand, eyes clouded, deep in thought.

 They’d almost kissed twice – why was he nervous about the idea of a date?

 “Dad, I’m hungry,” Anthony whined, his voice shocking Daniel violently out of his thoughts.

 “I’m cooking dinner,” Daniel called out, knowing that his son was going to grab some junk food out of the pantry anyway and stalk back up to his room. Amanda was the one who was better at curbing Anthony’s impulsive choices – Amanda, who was in Malibu visiting her parents to tell them about their divorce.

 “Sensei Lawrence is coming to dinner, right?” Anthony asked from behind him, his mouth full. Daniel struggled not to roll his eyes. Trust his son to be predictable.

 “Yes, he is,” he answered, turning in his seat to see his son completely. “Be nice.”

 “I’m always nice.”

 “I seem to remember you telling Johnny that I would kill him,” Daniel recounted. Anthony grinned.

 “That was me being nice,” he said, rummaging in the bag of cheese puffs. “It was a warning.”

 “Be nicer, please,” Daniel pleaded, but he was almost smiling.

 Anthony shrugged. “I’m just trying to protect you, Dad. What if he takes your heart and karate chops it into little pieces?”

 Daniel squinted at him, suspicious. “Quit watching CW shows on Netflix.”

 “Tell Sam to stop watching Riverdale,” Anthony said, still unbothered.

 “Leave the cheese puffs in the kitchen, please,” he called, but Anthony was already halfway up the stairs, the cheese puffs still clutched in his fist.

 ***

 “If you’re worried about the first kiss, why don’t you just get it over with?” Miguel asked, safely buckled into the front seat of Johnny’s Challenger, flipping through Johnny’s tapes. “Do it first thing.”

 “I didn’t – I didn’t say I was,” Johnny stammered, hands white on the steering wheel. “You said I was.”

 Miguel shrugged. “You’re easy to read, Sensei.”

 “Shut up, no I’m not.”

 Miguel didn’t look up from the tapes, his finger tapping on top of Guns ‘n’ Roses. “Then why is your face red?”

 “Are you going to play music or are we going to talk about our girly feelings for the whole drive?”

 Miguel pulled free the tape and turned up the volume, leaving Johnny to marinate in his thoughts. As much as he wished he didn’t, Miguel had a point. Would he be able to sit through an entire dinner while he overthought everything that would come after? Would he be able to make the same mistake he made with Ali?

 He was still thinking about it when they pulled up to Daniel’s house and turned off the car. Miguel led the way to the front door, but Johnny could see the lights sparkling on the terrace, near the pool. The table was set and ready for them, the lighting dark and romantic. It seemed almost too pristine for something that was supposed to include him.

 Miguel looked back at him, almost on the doorstep.

 “You alright?” he asked, and Johnny so clearly saw himself, a teenager again, standing on Ali’s doorstep, nervously waiting to be scrutinized by her rich parents, all the while knowing they thought he was more like them than he could ever be. Yet here was Miguel, standing bravely on the doorstep, in a red flannel shirt and jeans, asking if the grown man was okay.

 “I’m fine, Diaz,” he choked out, and Miguel raised his eyebrows at him like he didn’t really believe it and rang the doorbell.

 Sam answered the door, in a yellow dress that Miguel immediately complimented, slipping an arm around her shoulders for a sneaky hug that he managed to get away with before Daniel appeared beside her, sleeves rolled up toward his elbows, a smile already on his face.

 He stepped aside to let Miguel through, offering him a hand to shake that Miguel took easily, and damn, when did that kid get so comfortable in his own skin? Johnny envied him – he wished he didn’t feel like such a kid when Daniel was around.

 “Johnny?” He pulled himself out of his thoughts to find Daniel looking at him curiously, the light of his home behind him illuminating him around the edges. Johnny felt curiously like he was looking at a painting from a museum he’d never think to go into. “Are you coming inside?”

 Why don’t you just get it over with?

 He reached out for Daniel, pleased when the man offered his hand without question, and yanked him out the front door and onto the porch.

 “What the hell –”

 He stumbled farther than Johnny imagined he would, and he caught him against his chest, one hand steadying Daniel around the waist. When Daniel looked up at him, confused and indignant, Johnny slipped his other hand around the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss that no one had enough time to interrupt because if someone interrupted him a third time, he was going to have to throw all of their children and surrogate children into the pool.

 Daniel made a confused sound against his lips, but his hands were clenched tightly in the fabric of Johnny’s shirt, pliant in his arms. Johnny pulled away long enough to see Miguel walking by, who gave him a wide-eyed thumbs up as he eased the front door closed. He rolled his eyes and let Daniel pull him in for another kiss, this one breathless and desperate and not at all like a first kiss.

 He had to force himself to pull away because he was maddeningly aware that the longer they were gone, the more likely it was that they would be interrupted. Daniel was grinning when he pulled back, all teeth and Jersey pomp, his eyes still closed, and Johnny wished he had done this thirty years ago instead of knocking the kid into the sand. They could have had thirty more years.

 “Does that mean you’re coming inside?” Daniel asked, his voice so soft it didn’t even sound like him, and Johnny tilted his head back to plant a kiss on his throat, backing him up so he was against the wall, the mostly closed front door on his left, the light from the kitchen barely illuminating them, the sound of their children a delicate soundtrack.

 “In a minute,” Johnny said, lips still on Daniel’s neck, and Daniel exhaled a shaky breath, dropping one of his hands to Johnny’s forearm, like he needed to be stabilized.

 “Take your time,” Daniel replied, head tilted back to the wall, eyes closed. Johnny pulled back for a moment to take him in, still perfect hair, slightly darker lips, face arranged in an expression he never thought he’d get to see, dazed and happy.

 He pulled him back in, taking great care to run his fingers through Daniel’s hair, feeling rather than seeing the mess of it he was making, Daniel groaning against his lips, thoroughly distracted. Johnny could get used to this – kissing the man to distraction. He made a brief mental note to thank Diaz for the idea later.

And then Daniel was turning him around so he was pressed to the brick instead and all thoughts of Miguel went out of the window.

 ***

 “Where did my dad go?” Sam asked, her eyes searching the empty kitchen. “He never leaves the kitchen while he’s cooking.”

 Miguel watched her eyes go to the slightly open front door and linger. He could see the wheels turning there. After a moment’s awkward silence, she gasped.

 “No way.”

 “Maybe don’t go out there looking for him,” Miguel said with a laugh, slipping his arm around her shoulders while he could.

 “Oh my god,” he thought she was angry for a moment, and then he looked down at her, and they both started giggling. “Thank God that finally happened.”

“Thank God what finally happened?” Robby asked, offering a fist for Miguel to bump.

 “My dad and your dad are totally making out outside,” Sam said, loud enough that Anthony, sitting in front of the television, turned around to join the conversation.

 “Ugh, Sam, too much information,” Robby groaned, but he grinned anyway. “So which one of us wins the bet?”

 “Bet?” Miguel asked, looking between them.

 “Well, I bet that they would avoid their feelings forever,” Sam said, counting them off on her fingers, “Robby bet that they were already hooking up, which, gross,” Robby shrugged. “And Anthony bet –”

 “I bet they’d do some dramatic confessing after dinner,” Anthony grumbled. “So none of us win.”

 “If I’m the one who told Sensei Lawrence to do…” Miguel faltered, trying to find the right word, “what he’s doing…does that mean I win?”

 Sam gaped at him, eyes wide. “Wh – what? What did you do?”

 He shrugged. “I gave him some advice. You know, strike first or whatever,” Miguel laughed.

 “He doesn’t win!” Anthony whined. “He didn’t bet!”

 “Didn’t bet what?”

 All four kids went still, frozen like they’d been doing something far worse than having a conversation. Miguel was the first one of them to turn around, trying to keep the smile off his face. Johnny’s barely concealed smirk told him he wasn’t being as sneaky as he thought he was.

 “Nothing, Sensei,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 “Are you kids gambling?” Daniel asked, his voice teasing.

 “If I say yes will you fix your hair, please?” Sam asked, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

 “What’s wrong with my hair?” Daniel asked, a hand already rising to smooth it back down.

 “Nothing,” Johnny said hurriedly, biting back a grin. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

 “It looks like sex hair,” Anthony half-shouted from his place on the couch.

 The room went silent. Johnny looked over to Daniel, who looked momentarily horrified before he just closed his eyes and started laughing. The rest of the room looked at each other, Johnny trying to hide a self-satisfied smirk before Daniel shoved him, playful and embarrassed, and everyone else started laughing.

 ***

 Dinner started out surprisingly successful – Daniel had always expected this dinner to be awkward, with Miguel and Robby at the same table, himself and Johnny watching their kids stumble through conversation, Anthony being antagonistic, as only he could be.

 But Miguel and Robby were fine, chatting amiably while Sam sat between them, happy and at ease. Anthony had his own comments to make, but Johnny handled him nicely, and even he had to admit that he was amused by Johnny’s newest nemesis. When he realized he was losing whatever conversational battle he and Johnny were currently entangled in, he switched to his usual home run shot:

 “My dad could kill you,” he said, but it didn’t have the venom it usually did, when he was saying it to people who might actually believe him.

 Johnny rolled his eyes. “Your dad is too much of a good guy to actually kill me.”

 Anthony shook his head. “He could still do it. He was a Cobra Kai once.”

 “Anthony!” Sam admonished from across the table. Daniel felt his limbs go numb.

 “No he wasn’t,” Johnny laughed, his eyes sliding from Daniel’s son to Daniel himself. Daniel, who felt the blood drain from his face the longer Johnny looked at him. Johnny stared, mouth slightly open. “You weren’t. Right?”

 “Maybe we should go –” Sam was halfway out of her chair already.

 “No, Sam, it’s fine,” Daniel reassured her. “It’s – it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t join Cobra Kai, I trained for a little bit with one of Cobra Kai’s…senseis.”

 “So you joined Cobra Kai,” Johnny finished. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “Cobra Kai wasn’t around at the time,” Daniel pointed out. “The guy told me he was Kreese’s sensei, that Kreese was dead, all of that nonsense, and I needed someone to train with for the ’85 All Valley, so –”

 “What about –”

 “Mr. Miyagi didn’t want me to compete. But I was…” he struggled to find the right word.

 “Blackmailed,” Sam supplied helpfully. “He was blackmailed into competing. Some guy threatened to beat him within an inch of his life every day if he didn’t.”

 “And I needed a trainer,” Daniel finished with a heavy sigh, his eyes on the table.

“You didn’t tell me you were blackmailed,” Anthony piped up indignantly from the other end of the table.

 “Anthony only thinks Dad joined Cobra Kai because he found the gi in a box one day,” Sam added, eyes on Johnny. “Dad doesn’t…” she looked over at her dad, and then back to him. “Dad doesn’t like to talk about it.”

 Johnny nodded, tightening his jaw. Daniel could see him trying to decide what to do, how to move forward with their kids watching.

 “Then we won’t talk about it,” he said firmly, turning back to his food. He caught Daniel’s gaze and gave him a wan smile. Daniel didn’t know what to make of it.

 He still wasn’t sure what to make of it when dinner was done, and Sam met him at the counter with dishes, muttering that she was going to take Robby, Miguel, and Anthony to Golf ‘n’ Stuff for a little while, knowing that she was trying to give him the privacy to talk to Johnny without any interruptions. He thought about telling her not to; he didn’t want to tell the story, definitely didn’t want to see Johnny’s reaction. Having the kids as a buffer might be good.

 “If you really like him, you’re going to have to tell him eventually,” she said when he didn’t answer, clasping his arm for a moment before ushering everyone outside and into her car.

 He didn’t have to listen hard to hear Johnny’s careful approach. He didn’t have to look to know what he was doing – leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets, eyes on his feet.

 “We still don’t have to talk about it,” he said, and Daniel felt a surge of affection for him that almost knocked him off balance.

 “But you want to know,” Daniel said wearily, grabbing a kitchen towel to dry his hands, turning around to see Johnny completely. He could still see the wrinkles in his shirt where his hands had been clenched earlier.

 “Of course I do, LaRusso,” Johnny said. “But I’m not going to force you to tell me.”

 Daniel shrugged. “You already know most of it. Kreese told Terry Silver to make me bleed, to make me suffer for ruining Cobra Kai. And then Kreese appeared, back from the dead, and,” he shrugged, trying to fight the urge to turn away from Johnny’s horrified gaze, “tried to kill me. Typical Kreese.”

 “He made you bleed.” It wasn’t a question.

 Daniel held out his hands, knuckles marred with thin scars from the wood. “He succeeded.”

 Johnny took his hands in his own, eyes on the scars. Daniel could feel him shaking with anger. He looked up to his face, tight and stern, the very image of a terrifying fighter. “I know where he lives,” he said, his eyes rising to find Daniel’s. “Kreese.”

 “John, don’t,” Daniel pulled his hands back. “It’s not worth it.”

 Johnny scoffed, pushing himself off from the counter, where he was still leaning, to cage Daniel in with his arms. “It is worth it,” he insisted. “He shouldn’t have blamed you because we left.”

 Daniel shrugged, and Johnny made a disapproving noise.

 “That’s why you hated Cobra Kai so much when I brought it back,” Johnny said thoughtfully. He paused, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t blame you.” He brought one hand up to gently trace the line of Daniel’s jaw. “You didn’t need Terry Silver,” he said. “You’ve always been a great fighter.”

 Daniel stared at him, trying to think of something to say, coming up empty.

 “Terry and Kreese might have made you bleed, but they couldn’t really break you,” he continued, surveying Daniel’s face while still managing to avoid eye contact. “You’re too stubborn for that.”

 Daniel managed a weak laugh, the sound of which relaxed the tense lines of Johnny’s face. “Jersey tough,” he said quietly, and Johnny finally met his gaze, blue eyes full of something Daniel couldn’t really identify. It was painfully soft, overwhelming to look at for too long.

 “Yeah you are,” Johnny said softly.

 He pulled him in for a kiss instead of saying something else, frustrated with his son for making tonight too serious, wishing fervently that he could go back to the front step, before they had to discuss their pasts, before Johnny had to fluster him with pretty words.

 Johnny lifted him, like he weighed nothing, onto the counter, and dropped his hands to Daniel’s thighs, clearly deciding that he was going to kiss all of his seriousness away. Daniel let him, content to be pulled along by the sensation of his hands, of his lips. But this was unhurried, unlike their time outside the front door, exploratory, a different kind of intoxicating.

 Johnny pulled back, just far enough that Daniel became aware that he was taller than him this way, blue eyes gazing up at him, sparkling in the light.

 And then he sighed, almost like he was exasperated, even while he still looked at him with a fond smile, and pulled him back to his mouth.

 “I love you,” he said against Daniel’s lips, so quiet that Daniel could almost pretend he hadn’t said it at all.

 But he clutched him tighter, holding onto him fiercely, just in case he was thinking of backing away, of hiding. He could feel Johnny laugh against his mouth, the laugh almost a sob, and kissed him deeper, communicating what he was always too afraid to say.

 “I love you too.”

#lawrusso #Johnny Lawrence and the Five Love Languages

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Supernatural- Hell House (1.17)

ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ... ᴮᵃᴮʸ ,,, i’m SOFT

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: John’s gone, and the siblings are itching for a hunt. They call on the Richmonds for an extra hand. Sam and Dean start their own war, and Olive is left in the middle once more. Things are not what they seem.

Warnings: cursing, blood, bloody mouth, mentions of suicide, murder, gross old man flirting, etc

Word Count: 10,100

“What are you doing?” I asked Dean through a yawn.

I had fallen asleep on his arm the minute we hit the road, but now he was reaching for something, and it had woken me up. Jinx shuffled around in the backseat.

“Shh. Go back to sleep.” He kept his eyes on the road as he dug around in the backseat.

I let my eyes fall shut as I leaned back into his side. The Daeva had left a nasty gash on my thigh, one that we wouldn’t be able to explain to a doctor. Dean stitched me up, which was fine because I trusted him with my life, but it hurt like a bitch the whole time. Sam had to take Jinx out for a walk because she wouldn’t stop crying.

“Do you reach my phone?” Dean whispered.

I huffed as I dug through his jacket pocket and flipped his phone open. He took it, aimed it at Sam, and snapped a picture. I groaned at the noise and looked up to see Sam asleep with a plastic spoon hanging out of his mouth. Dean tossed his phone in my lap before blaring the music and singing along. Jinx let out a bark.

“De!” I whined, covering my ears.

I had been feeling weak and cranky for the last week. Sam shot up at my voice, or the thump of the bass, and spit the spoon out of his mouth. It landed on my knee and I swatted at it, letting it fall to the floor. Dean grinned as Sam leaned forward and turned the music down.

“Sorry, bug. Didn’t mean to spit it out on your knee.” He cooed as he put his arm up, inviting me to curl up against him.

I only grunted as I leaned over and pulled my feet up onto the seat, making a deliberate effort to hit Dean’s knee with my toes.

“Haha, very funny.” Sam glared at him.

He chuckled, ignoring my prodding. “Sorry. Not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we’re not kids anymore, Dean. We’re not gonna start this shit again.”

“What shit?” Dean asked.

“The prank stuff. It’s stupid, and it always escalates.”

“Aww, what’s the matter, Sammy? Scared you’re gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again?” Dean teased.

“Alright.” Sam shrugged. “Just remember, you started it.”

Dean snorted. “Bring it on, baldy.”

“Please, no.” I fussed. “I always get caught in the middle of your stupid prank wars.”

“Swear we’ll leave Olive out of it.” Sam put a pinky up, and Dean side-eyed him.

“Do I look like I’m gonna pinky promise you anything?”

I shoved my pinky into his face, coming dangerously close to his eye.

“Fucking pinky promise to leave me out of it, you prick.”

Dean scoffed as he hooked his pinky around mine. “Fine, fine.”

“Where are we anyways?” Sam asked with a yawn.

“A few hours outside Richardson. We’ll stop in a bit to let Jinx use the bathroom. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean glanced between us and the road.

“Uh, hold on.” Sam took his arm back and sat up straight, digging through his bag. “Alright, about a month ago this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?”

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit. Legend says it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters.” Sam explained.

“Right, which is why we called on the Richmonds. Hunter will be our temporary Olive.” Dean spoke, then faked a gag. “God, I hate the sound of that.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back into my seat. “Why can’t we just do this like any other job? Why’d we have to bring the Richmonds along?”

Dean eyed me. “Relax, short-stuff.”

“We’re not letting you walk into a death-trap, Ol.”

I snorted. “Oh, please, Sam. We’re hunters. You do realize we walk into death-traps for a living, right?”

Sam and Dean shared a look over my head. Dean said nothing, and Sam huffed.

“Anyways, this group of kids sees this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?”

“Well, that’s the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

I yawned. “Maybe the cops are right. High school kids are fucking idiots.”

“Ollie, you are a high school kid.”

“No, I’m a hunter who happens to be high school kid aged. There’s a difference.”

“Either way, I read a couple of the kids first hand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere.”

“Where’d you read these accounts?” Dean asked, skeptical.

Sam cleared his throat and looked out the window, his tell of embarrassment. I giggled. He must’ve gone onto some pretty stupid websites.

“Well, I knew we were gonna be passing through Texas, so um… last night, I might’ve surged some local… paranormal websites.” He pushed out quickly before clearing his throat again. “And I found one.”

“Uh huh.” Dean looked over with a face that read ‘that’s ridiculous!!’.

I snorted. “And what’s it called?”

“Hellhounds lair dot com.”

“Oh, lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom’s basement.”

Sam cracked a grin. “Yeah, probably.”

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “Most of those websites wouldn’t know a ghost if it bit them in the persqueeter.”

I giggled, and Sam groaned.

“Ah, grow up, Ol.”

“Oh, come on, Sams, it’s a funny word.”

Sam shook his head with a sigh. “Look. We let Dad take off, which was a mistake by the way, and know we don’t know where the hell he is. So, meantime, we’ve gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There’s no harm in checking this out.”

“Right, right, except that if Olive steps foot in the house she’ll probably die.”

I rolled my eyes again before turning to Sam. “Where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this.”

                                                            ***

“If she blocks me in, I swear to god.” Dean grumbled as Everett pulled in next to us.

She parked so close that Dean couldn’t open his door. He cursed under his breath, and Sam rolled his eyes as he opened the passenger door. I turned around and smiled at Jinx.

“We’ll be right back, girly.”

“Make sure you leave the windows down for her.” Sam reminded us.

“Alright, come on, De.” I tugged on his sleeve.

“Total bullshit.” He mumbled under his breath.

“I know, I know.” I climbed out through Sam’s side. “You coming?”

He let out a sigh as he climbed out, fixing his jacket.

“You really need to learn how to park, Winchester.”

“Bite me.” Dean spat.

“Alright, alright. Come on.” Sutton pulled her sister along.

Hunter stifled a yawn as he climbed out of their car, pulling a hoodie on. 

“Nice dog.”

“Name’s Jinx.” I latched onto Sam’s hand and yawned, too.

“So how are we handling this?” Sutton asked.

“Reporters.” Dean called over his shoulder. “Come on.”

                                                           ***

“It was the scariest thing I ever saw in my life, I swear to God.” The boy sitting outside tells Sam and Dean.

Dean tries hard not to roll his eyes. He focuses on Jinx instead, who had barked so loud they had to take her out of the car. The little dog is on her side, head on Dean’s shoe. He smiles as she looks up at him and wags her tail.

“From the moment we walked in, the walls were painted black.” The second boy speaks to Everett and Sutton through the serving window.

“Red.” The first boy says.

“I think it was blood!” The girl hisses at Hunter and Olive, who are sitting inside with her.

“All these freaky symbols.” The first boy shudders.

“Crosses and stars.” The boy at the serving window shakes his head.

“Pentecostals.” The boy outside says, and Sam and Dean share a look. Even Jinx tilts her head.

“Whatever, I had my eyes closed the whole time.” The girl smacks her gum.

“But I can damn sure tell you this much. No matter what anybody else says…”

“That poor girl.”

“With the black-”

“Blonde-”

“Red hair, just hanging there.”

“Kicking.”

“Without even moving!”

“She was real.” The girl reassures. Hunter and Olive sigh at each other.

“One hundred percent.” The boy nods at Dean vigorously.

“And kinda hot. Well, you know, in a dead sorta way.” The second boy smirks. Everett and Sutton look at each other, eyebrows shot up high.

“And… how’d you find out about this place anyway?” Sam, Sutton, and Olive ask.

“Craig.”

                                                           ***

“Just stay separate.” Dean snapped at Everett.

“Relax, jackass.” I hissed as we stepped into the shop.

“Fellas.” The guy at the counter looked up. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah, are you Craig Thursten?” Sam asked.

“I am.” He looked hesitant.

“We’re reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I’m Olive, this is Sam and Dean.” I smiled.

“No way.” He looked me up and down, and I cringed.

He was definitely Dean’s age, if not older. I could physically feel Dean struggling not to take a step forward and shove me behind him.

“Well, I’m a writer too. I write for my school’s lit magazine.”

“Well, good for you, Morrissey.” Dean hissed.

The bell rang, and I turned to see the Richmonds walking in.

“Oh, excuse me.” Craig sauntered to the edge of the counter, eyes honing in on Sutton.

Dean pulled me to stand between him and Sam.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no, we’re just looking. Thanks.” Hunter forced a smile as Everett glared, moving to stand in front of Sutton.

I smiled. She and Dean were more alike than they realized.

“So, what can I do for you folks?” Craig came back to us, again staring at me.

“Um.” Sam cleared his throat as Dean stepped ever-so-slightly in front of me. “We’re doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one.”

“You mean the Hell House?”

Dean sighed. “That’s the one.”

“I didn’t think there was anything to the story.” Craig chuckled.

“Why don’t you tell us the story?” I tilted my head.

“Well, supposedly back in the thirties, this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn’t have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that’s when he went off the deep end.”

Sam and I glanced at each other, and he turned back to Craig. “How so?”

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quickly, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop, but he just strung them up, one after the other. And when he was all done he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.” He eyed me again. “I’d steer clear if I were you, Ol.”

Dean’s nostrils flared and I shook my head. “Don’t call me that.”

“Where’d you hear all this?” Dean all but growled.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don’t know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I… I didn’t believe it for a second.”

“But now you do.”

“I don’t know what the hell to think, man. I, I’ll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don’t wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

Dean nodded, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me away from Craig. “Thanks.”

Hunter immediately went for me, taking me from Dean and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “What’d he tell you?”

I shivered. “Enough to know that it’s probably just a spirit. Simple salt and burn should work. Just have to find where he’s buried.”

Hunter looked over our shoulders at Craig and sighed. “He better not be caught up in this. And he better never look at you like that again.”

I snorted. “I can take care of myself, ya know.”

“I know.” He looked back at me. “And so does Dean. But just in case.”

                                                           ***

“Can’t blame him.” Sam scoffed as we walked up the muddy road to the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal.” Dean snorted as Jinx tugged at her leash.

“Got an-”

“Yeah.” Sutton cut Everett off and pulled out an EMF reader.

“Come on, let’s circle the house.” Dean reached out a hand for me.

I giggled and took it, swinging our hands back and forth like a little kid. He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t suppress the smile growing on his face. Jinx yapped, pulling us around the house.

“Don’t laugh at me, kid.”

I giggled again. “Sorry. You’re just… so protective.”

He snorted. “You’re not allowed to turn this into a chick-flick moment.”

I smiled. “I love you too, De.”

He rolled his eyes again, this time with a huge grin on his face. “I love you too, sweetie.”

“Hey, De?” I swung our hands again.

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“Would you ever do that?”

“Do what?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

I looked up at him with puppy eyes. “Mercy kill me.”

He blinked, shocked. He stopped walking, and I had to stop with him. Jinx practically choked on her leash, confused as to why we weren’t still moving.

“Baby girl, I would never.”

A small smile grew onto my face. “Make me fight it out to the end?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Side by side, wouldn’t give you a choice.”

I squeezed his hand and started walking again. “Thanks, De. I wouldn’t mercy kill you either. Couldn’t stomach it.”

“Anything?” I asked Sam as he held the EMF out.

“Yeah. A little bit.” Sam squatted to scratch Jinx behind the ears.

“They won’t be any good.” Dean sighed.

“Why?” Sam and I looked up at him.

Dean nodded up at the powerlines. “I think that thing’s still got a little juice in it. It’s screwing all the readings.”

“Yeah, that’d do it.” I sighed.

“Yeah. Come on.” Dean tugged me back to the front of the house.

“So what’s the deal here?” Everett asked, arms crossed over her chest.

Sam sighed, and Sutton shrugged at him. Did middle children have a way of communicating with each other or something?

“You guys stay out here, make sure Olive sticks with you. Keep Jinx with you, too. We take Hunter in there and make sure we know what we’re dealing with.” Dean instructed as he walked me over to them, placing me between Everett and Sutton.

I sighed. “I still think this is stupid.” I took Jinx’s leash from Dean’s hand.

Dean smiled at me. “I still don’t care.”

“Alright, you ready?” Sam asked Hunter, hand on his shoulder.

I smiled. Sam was a big teddy bear.

“Yeah, I think so.” Hunter nodded as Dean gave him a rough pat on the back.

“Guys.” I called as they began to trudge up the steps.

All three boys turned back, Dean in attack stance and Sam with big puppy eyes. I ran up the steps and threw my arms around each brother’s waist. Jinx jumped around, pawing at the boys’ legs.

“I love you guys.” I whispered into Dean’s jacket.

They both sighed and hugged back.

“We love you too.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.” Sam kissed the top of my head before I backed away, stepping back down the steps.

“Hey, Winchester.” Everett growled.

Dean rolled his eyes. “What?”

“If my kid brother comes out of there with a single scratch-”

“Yeah, same goes for you. I want my baby back in mint condition.” Dean snarled at her.

Everett snorted. “Can’t give her back in mint condition if she’s already a disaster.” She mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “Just go.”

The boys headed inside the house, flashlights up. I sat down on the curb with a sigh. Jinx snuggled onto my lap as Sutton sat down next to me.

“You alright?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t like the idea of my boys going in there without me.”

She nodded. “I know. I wasn’t too sold on Hunter going alone, but I know he’s in good hands with Sam and Dean.”

I snorted. “Look, I love Hunter, but I don’t trust him to keep my brothers safe.”

She nodded again. “I get that, too.

I closed my eyes with a huff. Jinx let out a small bark. A floorboard creaked, and I shot to my feet, confused.

“Olive? What is it?”

Another floorboard, and then a giggle. It wasn’t Sam’s, it wasn’t Hunter’s, and it most definitely was not Dean’s. Something that sounded like an EMF meter went off, and I turned to the house. Jinx started to go crazy, barking like there was no tomorrow. A bark turned into a growl.

“Shit.”

“Olive?” Everett waved her hand in front of my face.

“There’s someone else in there.” I tore past the siblings and up the steps.

“Dean?” I hissed, blinking to adjust to the dark.

They didn’t answer, but the same floorboards creaked. I cursed under my breath and went down the hallway. I heard Jinx howl from outside.

“Olive.” Dean hissed, and it came out like a strangled bark.

“What the-”

“Shh.” I cut them off, holding a hand up.

Something in the next room thumped, and the boys looked at each other wide eyes. Hunter went for my wrist, and I pulled away from him, standing in front of the door with my shoulders squared. Sam and Dean looked at each other, and Dean sighed. He looked at me. I nodded, and so did Hunter. Dean busted through the door, and a bright light hit our eyes.

Danger.

Blood began to drip from my mouth, a drop landing on my shoe. I bared my teeth.

“Oh, cut! It’s just a couple of humans.”

My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I threw my head back with a growling scoff. Dean snorted, looking at me over his shoulder. Two guys were standing in front of us, one holding a camera, and the other holding… an EMF meter?

“What are you guys going here?” The one with the EMF meter asked.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean hissed.

“Uh, we belong here. We’re professionals.” EMF meter laughed.

“Professional what?” I asked through gritted teeth, swallowing blood.

“Paranormal investigators.” EMF shoved business cards into Sam and Hunter’s hands.

He tried to give one to Dean, but my older brother only stared with arched eyebrows. He turned to me, and I shook my head, trying to ignore the blood that had made its way down my chin.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Dean groaned.

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler?” Sam read off the card.

“Hellhounds Lair dot come.” Hunter sighed. “You guys run that website.”

“Yeah.” EMF grinned.

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Dean nodded. “We’re big fans.”

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back an annoyed laugh.

“And uh, we know who you guys are too.”

My blood ran cold and St. Louis ran through my head.

Dean.

My mouth began to bleed again, and my eyes began to water.

“Yeah?”

“Amateurs.” EMF scoffed, and I suddenly felt lightheaded. 

Dean watched me go pale and came to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him with a sigh, and a second stream of blood went down my skin. Dean sighed and wiped at it with the sleeve of his flannel.

“You alright?”

I nodded. He gave my arm a squeeze and gestured to Hunter.

“Keep her standing.” He whispered as he handed me off and turned back to EMF and camera boy.

“Gonna be okay?” Hunter asked in a hushed tone.

I nodded again. “I think so. Just a lot of back and forth.”

“St. Louis?” He asked.

I took a breath, closing my eyes. “Yeah.”

“So if you guys don’t mind, we’re trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here.”

“Yeah, and whatcha got?”

“Harry, why don’t ya tell them about EMF?” Idiot One grinned.

I leaned my head back into Hunter’s shoulder and groaned.

“Well…”

“EMF?”

I smiled, knowing Sam was playing dumb and knowing he was biting back a grin.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Ed flicked the EMF meter on.

Dean turned to me with a shit-eating grin, and I turned my face into Hunter’s neck, struggling not to snort.

“Whoa, whoa! It’s 2.8 mg!”

“2.8. It’s hot in here.”

Dean let out a low whistle, and Sam mumbled something.

“Huh.” Dean huffed. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…”

“Once. We were, uh, we were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table.”

“By itself.”

“Well, w-w-w-we didn’t actually see it, we heard it. And something like that, it uh… it changes you.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, a serious look on his freckled face. “We should go, let them get back to work.” He looked over his shoulder at me.

I nodded, feeling sick.

“Yeah. You should.” Ed snipped.

“Sam. Hunter, Olive.” Dean ushered us out the door.

“Yeah, work!” Ed called after us as we made our way down the hallway.

“Why did you run in?”

“Why didn’t you bring a shotgun?”

“Are you gonna stop bleeding any time soon?”

I giggled at Hunter, but Dean cut me short, grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.

“De!” I squealed, hitting his back.

He dropped me in front of the steps of the house and glared at me.

“Why the hell did you come inside?”

I sighed, shoulders dropping. “I heard something.”

Sutton and Everett ran up, Jinx on their heels. She yapped, jumping at the boys.

“I’m so sorry! We tried to stop her!”

“I told you-”

“Stop.” I cut Dean off as he went for Everett’s throat. “Stop, I ran out.”

“Why?” Dean barked at me.

I shrunk back with a flinch, and Sam pulled him back. Hunter grabbed his sisters and dragged them away. Jinx sat at our feet with a whine.

“I could hear them moving inside the house.” I whispered.

“What?” Sam tilted my head.

“I could hear them. The floorboards, EMF’s giggle. The EMF meter itself. I could hear them from the curb, De.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

Sam sighed too. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was just worried. I wasn’t sure what it was.” I pouted, my head feeling tingly.

They sighed, and Dean brought me into a hug. “I know. It’s okay. Just try to take care of yourself too, baby.”

I nodded, letting my head drop against his chest. “Okay.”

“Go to sleep, Sammy’s got ya.” He gave me a squeeze.

I nodded again. Sam picked me up by the waist and set me on his hip. I yawned and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Love you.”

Sam chuckled. “Love you too, bug.”

                                                           ***

“Hey.” Sam sauntered down the steps.

“Hey!” I called Dean as he met us halfway.

“Whatcha got?” He asked.

“Well, we couldn’t find a Mordechai but we did find a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the thirties.” Dean let go of Jinx’s leash, and she came running.

“He did have kids, but it was two boys. And there’s no evidence he ever killed anyone.” Sutton finished as Sam picked Jinx up.

“Huh.” Dean huffed.

“What about you?” Hunter asked.

Everett turned back to the cars, and we followed her.

“Well, the kids didn’t really give us a clear description of that dead girl but I did hit up the police station.” Dean sighed.

“No matching missing persons. It’s like she never existed.” Everett shook her head.

“Look guys. We did our digging. This whole thing’s a bust. For all we know, those website freaks made this whole thing up.”

“Yeah, he’s got a point.” Sutton put her hands on her hips.

“Alright. We can split then, I guess.” I shrugged.

Everett grinned. “I’m fine with that. Let’s go!”

“I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers and leave the legend to the locals.” Dean winked.

Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me away from Dean as he made his way to the car. He held Jinx to his chest with the other arm, tucking her under his jacket.

“Wh-”

“Shh.” Sam whispered.

I waved to Hunter and Sutton as Everett started their car. Dean got into the car, and Sam pulled me toward the window with a smile. Dean turned the key, and latino music began to blast. Dean hit the radio, but the wipers began to go off instead. He tore the key out with a jump. Jinx barked, scared.

“What the fuck?”

Sam giggled as he held the door open. I stared with wide eyes as I climbed into the car. Sam licked his finger and marked a ‘one’ in the air before pointing to himself. He got into the car and I inched closer to Dean, still a bit startled. Jinx circled between me and Sam before laying down, and I stared at him. I thought for sure that Sam knew better than to mess with Dean’s car.

“That’s all you’ve got?” Dean gave him a dirty look. “Weak. That is bush league.”

I curled my arms around one of Dean’s.

“Can we go home now?”

He smiled down at me. “Of course we can, sweetpea.”

                                                           ***

“Hello?” I asked as I flicked my phone open.

Sam and Dean had left me sleeping in the motel room while they went to a diner to pick up dinner. Jinx was asleep at the feet of Sam’s bed. She loved him the most.

“Olive, have the Richmonds left town yet?”

“No. I just got off the phone with Hunter. Everett is asleep and Sutton went out to get them dinner. I thought maybe you guys would run into her.”

“Well, we haven’t. Look, call him back. We missed something. We’ll call Sutton, tell her to meet us back at the Hell House.”

“Okay… De, what happened?”

He sighed. “A girl’s dead.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. We saw her. It was real.”

I sighed again. “Does this mean I’ll have to hold onto your belt loop the whole time?”

He snorted. “You bet your ass it does.”

I scoffed. “Okay. Love you guys. Be careful.”

“Always. You too. Love you.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” Dean made an obnoxious kissing noise before hanging up.

I sighed as I dialed Hunter’s number again. I put the phone between my ear and shoulder as I got off the bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Hunt.” I sighed and dug through our communal bag.

I had already changed into my pj’s and shoved my clothing into the duffel.

“What’s up?”

“Look, Sam and Dean said we must’ve missed something. Dean wants you guys to meet us at the Hell House.”

Hunter sighed. “What happened?”

“A girl’s dead, and he sounded agitated.” I put him on speaker and tossed the phone aside.

“Alright. Everett is still out, she’s probably hungover. But I’ll wake her up and make sure she gets ready.”

“Make sure she doesn’t cut your head off.” I tugged off Dad’s old sweater and yanked on a black shirt.

“Haha, very funny. Are those website guys still suspects?”

I pulled on leggings and snorted. “I kinda hope so. I’d love nothing more than to cut EMF freak in two.”

“I still can’t believe you barged right in there without a gun. I’m surprised Dean didn’t shoot you on the spot.”

“Oh, shove it.” I laced my boots up. “Dean loves me. Would never shoot me.”

He snorted this time. “Yeah. Right, sure. Alright, I’ll let you go. I’ve gotta wake Everett up.”

I giggled. “Good luck. See ya.”

“Bye, Ol.”

                                                           ***

I shushed Hunter as we crouched in the bushes.

“I guess the cops don’t want anyone else screwing around in there.” Sam whispered.

There was a cop car parked on the curb, and they were standing around the porch.

“Yeah, but we still gotta get in there.” Dean sighed.

Somebody else whispered, and I turned to glare at Everett. She wasn’t talking. I looked around, slowly edging out of our hiding spot. Jinx would’ve barked, so we left her at the motel. Lucky for us, she was still sleeping when Sam and Dean picked me up.

“I don’t fucking believe it.” Hunter growled.

“What?” I looked at him, and he helped me move forward without being seen.

The two idiots from earlier. Hunched over, wearing stupid gadgets, whispering and shushing each other. I inhaled to let out a snort, and a hand clapped over my mouth. I looked down to see that it was Dean’s hand, and I licked him. He flinched, pulling me back to sit.

“Ohh, De.” I turned to him with a huge smile. “I got an idea.”

He smiled. “Go ahead.”

I shuffled to rest on my knees. I cleared my throat before cupping my hands to my mouth.

“Who ya gonna call!”

Idiot One and Idiot Two stumbled, confused. The cops spotted them, and began shouting orders. The idiots ran back the way they came, and the cops followed.

Everett chuckled. “Nice move, Winchester.”

I grinned as Sam pulled me onto my feet. We followed Dean up the sidewalk and into the house. We were laughing, and I let out a snort.

“Alright, alright.” Sam tried to quiet us down.

“Everyone settle.” Sutton smiled.

“Okay.” Sam swung the duffel bag off his shoulder and onto the floor. “Olive.” He handed out rifles as he did a head count.

Dean was next to get a rifle, then Sutton. Hunter, and Everett last.

“Where have I seen this before?” Dean shone his flashlight at the walls. “It’s killing me.”

“Alright, come on. We don’t have much time.” Sam called.

He led the way down to the basement. Him first, then Dean, and me, of course, stuck behind Dean. Hunter, then Sutton, and then Everett.

“Oh, look at that. That’s funky.” Hunter pointed at a shelf full of jars.

“Oh, nice.” I strayed from the group and went straight for them.

Dean followed, picking up a red one. He sloshed it around and turned with a grin.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this.”

“What the hell would I do that for?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

I grinned up at Dean, and he mirrored it.

“I double dare you.”

Sam shook his head with a snort. I looked through the jars, seeing one that looked like it had an eyeball in it. I pushed it away with a groan of disgust. Hunter laughed from beside me, and something thumped in the cabinet in the corner. Hunter stood in front of me and clutched his rifle. Sutton positioned herself behind Sam, and Everett behind Dean. Dean and Sutton’s rifles went up as Everett’s flashlight turned on. Hunter squared his shoulders and glanced at me. I stood on my toes, resting my head against his shoulder. Dean nodded, and Sam yanked the door open.

A few rats squeaked and ran away from the light. Dean groaned and lifted his feet.

“I hate rats.”

“What, you’d rather it was a ghost?” I giggled.

“Yes, actually.” Dean squinted at me.

I dug my fingers into Hunter’s arm as a figure appeared behind Sam.

“Ev!”

“Sams!”

The four older hunters turned around. I shoved Hunter out of the way and cocked my rifle. Mordechai rose an axe above his head, aiming at Sam.

“Duck.” I ordered before taking my shot.

Nothing happened, and I shot him again. Someone else shot at him, and he finally misted away.

“What the fucking hell?” I hissed, running to Dean.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and looked around.

“What kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam asked as we moved.

Dean and I ducked behind the shelves of jars, confused. I looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.

“I dunno, but we should get outta here right now.” Everett grabbed Hunter by the wrist and yanked him toward the door.

Mordechai came back, and his axe came down on the shelves. The jars shattered at our feet, and one hit my head.

I crawled out from under the metal as the Richmonds pulled the shelf up.

“Fuck.” I hissed, hand going to the back of my head.

“Go!” Sam shouted as he took on Mordechai. “Get out of here!”

“Hey, cunt!” I screamed, waving my arms and aiming my rifle.

Mordechai turned to me, and I felt my chest clench. He swung at me, and I ducked and rolled. Sam plucked me off the ground as the axe slammed an electrical box. Sparks flew everywhere, and Sam tossed me over his shoulder.

Everett led the way up the stairs, and Sam and I brought up the rear. I yelped as we ran through the hall and out onto the porch. Sutton fell first, and it was a domino effect. I ended up on top of Sam, legs caught under Hunter.

“Ow!” I howled.

My arm cracked as I shifted, and I felt my bones throb.

“Go, go, go!” Sam shouted, trying to untangle himself from the mess.

Hunter rolled off of us and helped me to my feet. I yanked at Sam, then at Dean. Dean grabbed my arm, and I yanked away with a yelp. Idiot One and Idiot Two were standing there, camera on us.

“Get that fucking thing outta my face.” Dean smacked them away.

“Go, go, go!” Sam shouted.

“Sweet Lord!”

“Of the rings! Run! Go!”

“Come on.” Hunter grabbed my hand and yanked me along with him.

                                                           ***

“Hey, baby girl.” Dean shot up from the bed as I opened the door.

“Hi, Deano.”  I smiled.

“How you feeling?” Sam looked up from his laptop.

I shrugged a shoulder. “Fine. Hurting, but fine.”

Sutton sat down next to Sam as Everett shut the door. “She’s gotta take these for the pain, and the cast has to be changed in a month, maybe two. You’re gonna have to be on top of her doctor’s appointments, because Dean’ll forget.”

“Hey!” Dean scoffed. “I would never forget about my baby’s health.” He turned to me. “C’mere.”

I sat down next to him with a huff. Jinx padded over to my side and gave me sad eyes.

“My arm is itchy.”

He laughed. “Sorry, Babes.”

“Can you sign it?” I looked up at him with puppy eyes.

He smiled and nodded. I pulled out a sharpie and handed it to him. He threaded his fingers through mine and signed his name onto the plaster.

Dean Michael Winchester, written in ugly, scratchy handwriting. Below that, Olive, my baby. I love you so much. Sorry your arm broke 🖤🖤

“So, what’ve we got?” Hunter asked, sitting on the couch.

“Not much.” Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Haven’t really started.”

Everett scoffed, and Sutton shot her a look.

“We were worried about Olive!” Sam defended himself.

“What the hell is this symbol?” Dean groaned, picking up a pad of paper from his side. “It’s buggin’ the hell out of me. This whole damn job’s buggin’ me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks.”

“It does.” Sam snorted.

I pulled out my laptop and started it up. I stood and stretched, groaning at the dull pain in my arm.

“Alright. Well, I mean that explains why he went after Olive, and you. But why me?” Dean leaned back.

“Hilarious.” Sam rolled his eyes. “The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those wrists?”

“Yeah.”

“What about them?” I asked as I got onto the Idiot2 website.

“They were slit.” Sam threw his head back with a groan.

“That doesn’t make sense.” I scrunched my nose up and settled next to Hunter.

“The axe doesn’t either, actually.” He noted, throwing an arm over my shoulders.

“I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again.” Sam sighed.

I made a grabby hand at him, and he moved to sit on my other side.

“But this mook keeps changing.” Dean scoffed.

I got onto the and refreshed the page on Mordechai Murdoch. “Okay, the story definitely said… wait a minute.” I blinked. “What the fuck?” I asked, turning my laptop to Sam.

“What?”

“Read.” I pointed.

Dean looked up at me with an eyebrow raised.

“Someone added a new post to their site. Read it out loud, Sams.

“They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he’s imprisoned in the house for eternity.” Sam squinted.

“What the hell?” Everett tilted her head.

“I don’t know. But I think I might’ve just figured out where it all started.” Dean tossed aside the pad of paper.

                                                           ***

“Hey, Craig. Remember us?” Dean asked as we sauntered into the shop.

He looked up with a sigh. He looked depressed. The Richmonds followed us in.

“Guys, look. I’m not really in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Dean waved him off. “We’re just here to buy an album, that’s all.”

He flicked through a stack and picked one out. I eyed it and looked up at him with a smile.

He was a genius.

He slung an arm around my shoulders and walked us toward the counter. “You know, I couldn’t quite figure out what the symbol was, and then I realized that it didn’t mean anything. It’s the Blue Öyster Cult logo.” He turned to Craig. “Tell me, Craig. You uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people?”

“Why don’t you tell us about the house again?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Without lying through your ass this time.” Dean pulled a bitchface.

Craig sighed. “Alright, uh… my cousin Dana was on break from TCU. We were just bored, looking for something to do…” He sighed. “So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be cool to make it look like it was haunted.”

Hunter snorted from behind me.

“So we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, from Dana’s theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we… we made up some story to go along with that. So we told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own.”

Sutton squinted, and Everett mumbled something to her.

“I mean, I thought it was fun at first, but… now that girl is dead, and… it was just a joke! Ya know, I mean… none of it was real. We made this whole thing up. I swear!”

“Alright.” Sam spoke softly.

“Okay.” Everett pulled Sutton and Hunter along.

I sighed and looked up at Sam. “If none of it was real, how the hell do you explain Mordechai?”

Sam looked at me and shook his head. “I dunno.”

                                                           ***

“Wake up, pumpkin.” Dean’s voice broke me out of my sleep as he rested a hand on my hip.

I groaned as I rolled over onto my back. “What?”

“Hey, I’m back.” He called out to Sam, who was in the shower.

“Hey, where were you?” Sam asked as the water turned off.

“Picking up orange juice for Ollie.” Dean winked at me as he sat down next to me.

I yawned as I sat up. I smiled at him and threw my arm around his neck. He laughed and hugged me back, pressing a kiss to my head.

“Thanks, De. I fucking love orange juice.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

“So Ollie might have a theory about what’s going on.” Sam called out.

“Yeah?”

“She still asleep?”

“Just woke her up.” Dean brushed my hair back.

“Yeah, what is Mordechai is a Tulpa?” I asked.

“Tulpa?” Dean repeated.

The door opened and Sam came out, hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist. I closed my eyes with a scowl on my face. Dean turned too, a bit grossed out. Jinx tilted her head at us, and I giggled. She was like a little human, only confused all the time.

“Put on some clothes.”

Sam picked up a pillow and threw it at me. It hit my juice and I pouted as it spilled over. 

“Dean!” I whined, throwing my head back against the wall.

He took the cup and grabbed a few tissues, wiping the juice off my hand. “Sorry, Babes. Sam, don’t be a dick.”

“Just… Tulpa.” I hissed at Sam.

“Yeah, a Tibetan thought form.”

“Ah, yeah, I know what a Tulpa is. Hey Sam, why don’t you get dressed. I wanna grab something to eat. I gotta take a leak.”

I laid back down and pulled the blanket over my head. “Wake me up when we’re ready to go.”

                                                           ***

“There you go.” The server put six coffees on the counter.

“Thank you.” Dean and I smiled as we took the cups and walked back to Sam and the Richmonds.

Sam was grimacing and trying to fix his pants. I cringed, and Dean eyed him.

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Sam brushed him off.

“You sure?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, keep going.” Dean took a seat. “So, these Tulpas?”

Sutton looked up and sighed. She took her coffee and yawned. Hunter leaned forward on his elbows and yawned. Everett put her head in her hands.

“Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.” Sam glanced at his computer.

“So?” Everett raised an eyebrow.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do.” Sutton scowled at her sister.

“She’s right. Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard.”

“Okay, wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he’s real?” Dean’s nose scrunched up.

“I dunno, maybe.” Sam shuffled again.

“People believe in Santa Claus… how come we aren’t getting hooked up every Christmas?”

“Because, Dean, you’re a horrible person. And because of this.” Sutton turned Sam’s laptop toward us.

One of the symbols from the Hell House was on his screen.

“Lemme guess, that’s the Tibetan spirit sigil?” Hunter asked.

“On the wall of the house?” I added.

“Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was. Now that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass.”

“So people are on the Hellhounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.” I shrugged.

“Would explain why he keeps changing.” Dean sighed.

Sam shuffled again. “Right, as the legend changes, people think different things. So Mordechai changes.”

“Like a game of telephone.”

“That would also explain why the rock salt didn’t work.” I sighed.

“Because he’s not a traditional spirit.” Dean frowned.

“Yeah.” Sam fidgeted again.

“Okay. So why can’t we just, uh…” Everett pinched the bridge of her nose. “Get this spirit sigil thing off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it’s not that simple.” Sutton shook her head. “You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own.”

“Great. So if he really is a thought form…” Dean scowled. “How the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

Sam began to move again.. “Well it’s not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.” He nodded toward Sutton.

Sutton hit something on his laptop and a video started to play. I groaned. It was the footage from last night. The Richmonds crashed down the stairs, followed by a crumbling Dean, and Sam. Me, crashing to the ground, Hunter over my feet, me shouting as my arm snapped.

“Since they’ve posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

I tensed. “De, if anyone recognizes you…” I sighed. “We’re screwed.”

“Hmph.” Dean’s lip curled up. “I got an idea. Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Sutton asked as Dean stood.

“We gotta find a CopyJack.”

I got off my stool with a yawn. Hunter followed, and Sam wiggled as he got to his feet. He grumbled something to Dean, and Dean only laughed. Sutton and Everett looked over their shoulders, confused.

“You did this?” Sam asked.

Dean only laughed harder.

“You’re a fucking jerk.” Sam hissed at him.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean grinned.

I rolled my eyes. Sam and Dean went for me at the same time, and I ducked away, pacing myself with Hunter. Sam blinked sadly, and Dean stuck his tongue out at me. I stuck mine out back.

“Brat.”

“Prick.”

                                                           ***

Dean pounded his fist on the door of the trailer.

“Who is it?” Idiot Two asked.

“Come on out, guys. We can hear you in there.”

Jinx let out a little growl, and I bit back a smile.

“It’s them!”

The door opened and they stuck their heads out.

“Ah, would you look at that. Action figures in their original packaging. What a shock.” Dean snorted.

“Guys, we need to talk.” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, um… sorry guys. We’re ahh, a little busy right now.” Idiot One shuffled.

I slammed my hand against the door as he tried to shut it. “Okay, well we’ll make it quick. You need to shut down the website.”

“Man, you know, these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell…” He laughed.

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people! And I get stage fright.”

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw last night, what’s in the house.” Everett crossed her arms over her chest.

“But now thanks to your website there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai.” Sutton rested all her weight on one hip.

“That’s right, which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person.” Hunter dead-panned.

“Somebody could get hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ed, maybe he’s got a point. Maybe…”

“Nope.” Idiot One shook his head. “We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth.”

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now-”

“Ev, Ev, hey, hey, hey, just forget it, alright.” Sutton pulled her back. “These guys…” She sighed dramatically. “Probably bitch slap them both, we could even tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna help us.”

“Sutton’s right. Let’s just go.” I sighed, readjusting my grip on Jinx’s leash.

“Yeah, he’s right.” Dean sighed as we began to walk away.

“What’d you say about…”

“Hang on a second here.”

“What thing about Mordechai?”

“Don’t tell em, Sutton.” Hunter begged.

“But if they agree to shut down the website, guys…” Sutton trailed off.

“They’re not gonna do it, you said so yourself.” Dean sighed.

“No, wait. Wait. Don’t listen to him, okay? We’ll do it. We’ll do it.” Idiot One stepped out of the trailer.

“Look, it’s a really big deal, alright? And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you’ll shut it all down.” Sutton leaned in.

“Totally.”

“Alright.” Sutton nodded at Dean.

He pulled a few papers from his jacket.

“It’s a death certificate. From the thirties. We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That’s right. He didn’t hang or cut himself.” Dean added.

“He shot himself?”

“Yep.” Sam nodded. “With a .45 pistol. To this day they say he’s terrified of them.”

“Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds-”

“It’ll kill the son of a bitch.” Dean cut me off.

Idiot One snatched the paper, and Idiot Two smiled.

“Alright, we should head out.” Hunter grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me away.

Sam and Dean followed. Everett spat on the step of the trailer, and Sutton smacked the back of her head before walking away.

                                                           ***

Hunter: be safe. sorry we had to abandon you guys

I smiled as I typed back a response.

Olive: we always do great without you guys anyways. just don’t get yourself killed

Hunter: will do

The Richmonds had left town. A case that seemed like werewolves had popped up in Oklahoma, and we were the closest hunters around. Dean was determined to take Mordechai down, so Everett decided they’d peel out. I yawned as I leaned against Dean. He wrapped an arm around me as he reached up. I watched as he pulled the cord on a mechanical fisherman holding a large fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved and an obnoxious laugh played. Sam yanked on the cord, and the laugh stopped.

“If you pull that string one more time I’m gonna kill you.” Sam promised.

We had been sitting in the cafe for the last two hours, and Dean had pulled the cord so many times that I would have nightmares about the laugh. Dean blinked, deadpan. He maintained eye contact with Sam as he pulled the cord again. Sam’s hand immediately went back up and he stopped it. He glared at Dean. I yawned again, this time snuggling further into Dean’s side. I wanted to go back to the motel, take Jinx for her nightly walk, and go to bed.

Dean snickered. “Come on, man. You need some more laughter in your life. You know, you’re way too tense.”

Sam only gave Dean another dirty look. Dean sighed, and I huffed.

“They post it yet?”

Sam spun his laptop around to us and began to stab at his salad, angry.

“We’ve learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms.” Dean read off the scream.

“Alright, so how long do we wait?” I asked.

“Long enough for the story to spread and the legend to change.” Sam spoke with a hand over his mouth. “I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam swallowed and reached for his beer.

I grinned and grabbed my glass of juice. Dean lifted his own and the three of us tapped our drinks together.

“Sweet.” Dean grinned before taking a long chug.

A smirk grew on Sam’s face and I shrunk into Dean’s side. He was up to something. Dean put his bottle down, but it stuck to his palm. My eyes widened as Sam broke into a cackle and Dean stared at his bottle, confused.

He looked up at Sam. “You didn’t.”

Sam laughed harder and held up a bottle of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam wheezed.

“Oh my god, you’re both fucking pricks!” I hissed, pulling away from Dean. “Why do you always have to go so far?”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“Because now I’ll have to rip that bottle off of his hand!” I groaned.

“Ollie, it’s okay.” Dean held his other hand out.

I scowled, smacking it away. “Get up. There’s some acetone in the car.”

Dean sighed. “Okay.”

                                                           ***

“Okay, come on.” Dean shut the trunk and led us up the porch steps.

He cleared his throat, and I put my back to his. I was left without a flashlight. A gun with one hand was risky, but I was a good shot, and Dean wanted me to be able to protect myself. We started with the hallway. Dean readjusted his gun with a hiss.

“I barely have any skin left on my palm.” He groaned.

“I’m not touching that line with a ten foot pole.” Sam snipped back.

Dean stopped us in our tracks and shone his light in Sam’s face. Sam winced and turned away. Dean, satisfied, moved into another room.

“So. You think old Mordechai’s home?” He whispered.

“I dunno.”

“Me either.”

The three of us jumped, guns pointing at the noise. I scowled. Idiot One and Idiot Two.

“You fuckers.” I growled.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” Sam hissed.

“We’re just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?” Idiot One whined.

A sound like knives being sharpened came from the basement, and I cringed as I readjusted my grip on my gun.

“Oh, crap.”

Sam and Dean shot them identical looks as they crowded us, camera on.

“Ah… you guys, you wanna… you wanna open that door for us?” Idiot One asked.

“Why don’t you?” Dean spat over his shoulder.

Mordechai burst through the door with the same axe from before. He let out an other-wordly shout, and I shot first. Sam and Dean shot over my shoulders, shooting until they were out of rounds. Mordechai stared at us, and then disappeared again. My chest clenched as we waited. He was gone. Dean stood in front of me and nodded for us to follow him into the next room

There was a thud in the next room, and my phone began to buzz in my pocket. I flicked it open, seeing that it was Hunter.

“What?” I hissed as Sam put his back to mine and Dean ran back to the idiots.

“Their server crashed.”

“What?” I repeated.

“Their server crashed! Nobody got the story. Guns won’t do shit! You guys gotta get outta there!”

I blinked, then grabbed Sam.

“Dean!” I shouted. “Guns won’t work!”

“Great.” He growled as we ran back into the room.

“Any ideas?” I asked Sam.

“We are getting outta here.” One of the idiots grabbed the other as they broke into a run.

They pushed past Dean into the other room. We paused as they screamed. They ran back to the front, trying to get the door open.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph!”

Mordechai came after them, and Idiot One began to scream.

“Hey!” Sam called. “Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!”

Mordechai attacked Sam, pinning his axe against his neck.

“Get out of here, now!” He ordered.

Danger.

“Sammy!”

“Come on!” Dean grabbed me by the hand and yanked me along. “We gotta burn the place down!”

“But Sam!”

“Ol-”

“Sammy.” I whined.

“Ollie.” Dean grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “Sam’s in danger, you’re scared.”

I nodded. “Sam.”

“Use that. Get that door open, get to the car, get kerosene.”

I shut my eyes and heard Sam yelp. My teeth began to ache, and I spit blood out. Dean turned me by the shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I let out a grunt as I kicked the door. It didn’t move. Sam yelled again, and I let out a scream as I went at it with my shoulder. It splintered off its hinges.

Jinx was going mad in the backseat of the car, circling and barking and growling. She saw me coming and stuck her head out the window, letting out a howl.

I went for the car, was careful to flip open the trunk, and yanked out the gallon of kerosene. I ran back into the house, and Dean took the container away from me, pouring it on every possible surface. My mouth was throbbing, and I heard Sam from the next room.

“Dean! Olive!”

“Hey!”

I turned to see the Richmonds running up the steps, spray cans in hand. Hunter tossed me one. I grunted as I tore off my sling and went through my pockets. I flicked on my lighter, letting the flame catch. I threw the can onto the floor and went for Sam. A growl ripped through my throat, and Mordechai disappeared. Sam fell.

“Come on!” I pulled him off the floor.

Dean helped me get him to his feet. Sam grabbed his throat and coughed.

“What are we doing?”

“Improvising.” Sutton grabbed Sam’s arm and tugged it over her shoulders.

Everett flicked her lighter on and threw it into the other room. Flames went up, and Sutton helped Dean yank Sam out of the house. I hissed as someone bumped into my arm. Hunter dragged me out of the house, and Everett was the last to follow us out.

“This is your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” She scowled at Dean.

“Well nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look. Mordechai can’t haunt a house if there’s no house to haunt.” He huffed. “It’s fast and dirty but it works.”

I sat down on the front lawn and groaned, holding my arm. Hunter took his flannel off and fashioned a sling out of it. I was too tired to try and stop him.

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?”

“Well…” Dean sighed.

“Then we’ll just have to come back.” I spoke through a mouthful of blood.

Sam plucked me off the ground and set me on his hip with a sigh. I hissed, spitting over his shoulder.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just ‘cause people believed in them. Right, bug?” Sam asked.

I nodded. Dean helped me control it inside. Pushing me in the right direction, telling me what to do. It helped. Sam would keep me awake afterwards. It was draining, and I was so tired, but I needed to be ready for the day my brothers wouldn’t be there to carry me to the car right afterwards.

“You guys came back.” I whispered, staring at Hunter.

He smiled, and Sutton sighed. Everett only rolled her eyes.

“You guys would’ve done the same for us.”

Dean snorted as he pulled out the car keys. “Like hell we would’ve.”

I sniffled. “Can we go now? My arm hurts.”

Sam grinned as he gave me a squeeze. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

                                                           ***

“Why are we here?” I asked with a yawn.

Jinx circled at Sam’s feet before finally laying down in the shade of the picnic table. Dean grinned as Idiot One and Idiot Two came along with arms full of grocery bags.

“Gentlemen. Lady.” Idiot One nodded his head at us.

“Hey, guys.” Sam smiled.

I couldn’t help but grin. He was so polite. Such a sweetheart. A big teddy bear. I blinked. My pain meds were making me loopy.

“Should we tell them?”

“Hey, might as well. You know, they’re gonna read about it in the trades.” Idiot One scoffed.

“So this morning, we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

I smiled, leaning into Dean’s side. “Oh yeah, wrong number?”

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.” Idiot One spoke as they loaded the groceries into their car.

“And create the RPG.”

Dean blinked. “The what?”

“Role playing game.”

“Right.” Dean nodded, lips pursed.

“A little lingo for you.”

“Anyhoo, excuse us. We’re off to lala land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great.” Sam smiled.

“Yeah. That’s awesome, best of luck to you.”

“Oh, yeah. Luck. That has nothing to do with it. It’s about talent. Sheer, unabashed talent.”

We looked around at each other and nodded. Idiot One threw up a peace sign.

“Later.”

They got into their car and drove off.

“I have a confession to make.” Sam turned to me with a huge grin.

“What’s that?” Dean turned with a smile.

“I uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.” He scratched the back of his neck.

I giggled, and Dean threw an arm around my shoulder. “Yeah.” He laughed. “Well, I’m the one who put the dead fish in their backseat.”

I giggled again, and the boys broke into laughter.

“Hey, boys?” I looked up.

“Yeah, bug?”

“What is it, baby?”

I gave them puppy eyes. “Truce? Please?”

They sighed and looked at each other. Sam shrugged, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah, truce.”

“Truce.” Sam smiled.

“At least for the next hundred miles.” Dean winked as he got up.

“Let’s go home.”

Previous Ep: Shadow (1.16)

Next Ep: Something Wicked (1.18)

#supernatural cast #supernatural season one #supernatural fic #supernatural oc #dean winchester #sam wichester #supernatural #olive winchester #my posts #dean and sam #sam and dean #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #sam x sister!oc #sam winchester x sister!oc #dean x sister!oc #dean winchester x sister!oc #john winchester #john winchester x daughter!reader #john winchester x daughter!oc #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jeffery dean morgan #winchester #winchester sister #winchester sibling #micwrites

[tsc-living]

(Jules being a good boyfriend yes, but no PDA and Emma doesn’t go shopping with him. However this has cute uncle!Julian feels. I will write PDA Blackstairs one of these days x)

Julian stood at the entrance to the supermarket with his niece on his hips, and pointed to the line of shopping carts. “Do we need one of those?” He asked and Iris giggled, kicked her legs and clung even tighter to his shoulders. She was only one year old, and he assumed that meant no she wanted to stay in her uncle’s arms. He chuckled and walked through the electronic door, bouncing her a little bit as he went. Julian picked up a shopping basket and held it on his fingers of the hand under his niece’s legs and smiled at the fact that she was still too small for her feet to touch it. He and Emma had been babysitting Helen and Aline’s daughter when Emma had started to fade in and out of concentration, slump and bend a bit more, and wince when she thought Julian wasn’t looking. He knew what it meant; he had raised two sisters, lived with Emma long enough, and had an older sister and sister in law. Emma’s period had come or at least was coming and she was in a lot of pain. Every month Emma tried to hide how much it knocked her down, she experienced pain worse than Julian’s sisters do to the point where it sometimes made her throw up. It broke his heart every time and he just wanted to make the pain go away, but unfortunately for women iratzes didn’t work to stop periods or numb the pain.

“Come on little warrior, this way.” He said, turning down the aisle with all of the period related and hygiene products. He didn’t know why the family called Iris ‘little warrior’ it was just something that had started when she was born and something he hoped she would never grow out of. He had told Emma to watch a movie or at least lie down in the den and that he was going to take Iris on an outing. She had protested at first, but it was clear by the pallor of her face that she just needed to lie down so she finally relented and let Julian put a blanket over her in the den where Dru was watching a horror movie.

“Ouch!” Julian yelped as the little one year old’s fist yanked on a lock of his brown hair and he pulled her hand away, “No Iris, we don’t pull.” He said firmly and she stuck her bottom lip out. With her blonde curls and wide Blackthorn blue eyes, she was one of the most adorable children he had ever met, but she was also the cheekiest. Everyone was struggling not to spoil her, even Ty- who was so often immune to other’s charms and manipulations- brought gifts and hovered around her whenever he was back from the Scholomance.

“We don’t pout either.” He said, but he was smiling and he tapped her bottom lip with his index finger and she giggled, pressing her face against his neck. He checked to make sure the beanie that was hiding her tapered ears was sitting right and patted her back gently as he perused the aisle of brightly coloured products. He knew what each of his sisters used and needed, and he knew what Emma needed, but he swore they moved and changed on the shelf every month.

“I wish they just kept them in the same spot.” He told his niece who had started sucking on her fingers and had her eyes half lidded with sleepiness. “Oh I think you are going to have a nap in the car on the way home.” He observed, kissing the top of the pink fuzzy beanie.

“Are you okay?” A woman asked from nearby and Julian looked over to see if she had been talking to him. She was watching him with a mildly dubious expression on her face. She was middle aged, her hair salted with grey and her eyes framed with wrinkles that one would pair with someone who smiles a lot. She wasn’t smiling now; she looked perplexed to see him there.

“No I should be okay ma’am. I know what I am looking for.” He said politely, readjusting his niece on his hip.

“Are you sure?” The woman asked and Julian swallowed his urge to give her a biting response. He knew it was oftentimes a bizarre thing for mundanes to see males in the female hygiene section, but he didn’t understand why. What about single dads, boyfriends, brothers, or even roommates? Besides, he was an uncle now, to a young girl and one day he may have to do this for her.

“I am positive. I have three sisters, a sister in law and a girlfriend. I am well aware of what it is that I am doing and what it is that I am looking for thank you.” Julian replied kindly, his heart aching as it always did to refer to Livvy in the present tense. Iris made a noise; a soft googly whine that Julian knew meant his niece was about to either burst into tears or demand food.

“She is adorable, is she yours? What’s her name?” The lady asked and Julian sighed internally, bouncing Iris softly.

“This is my niece.” He replied, opting out of introducing the little girl to the stranger, “But yes she is definitely adorable.” He agreed because he could never resist cooing over her. “However, I think she needs a snack or we are going to have a grumpy little girl here.” He added and Iris nodded, making Julian smile despite himself. “Okay miss, let me get these for Auntie Emma and then we will get you a snack.” He said and was relieved when Iris nodded again. He smiled politely at the woman, spotting the specific tampons and pads that he was there to get behind her. “Excuse me ma’am.” He said, gesturing to the shelf at her shoulder. She stepped hurriedly out of his way and he said thank you as he grabbed three packets of each and dropped them into the basket. He felt the lady’s gaze on him as he walked back down the aisle and he was relieved to get out of her line of sight.

“Some people are not accustomed to men caring little warrior, and if you end up dating a man- although the angel knows with this family if you will- he better care enough about you to do what I just did. And he better not be embarrassed about it.” He said with his voice soft and calm as he walked towards the candy and confectionary aisle. He remembered teaching Ty when his little brother was about thirteen on what it was that he needed to do for Livvy or even Dru if Julian couldn’t. He had also assumed that his little brother might have to do it for a future partner, but he had learnt some things since then to not hold that assumption too close. Julian was too busy telling Iris the story of Julian teaching Mark how to help Cristina that he didn’t notice the curious looks from a young man in the confectionary aisle. He was about Julian’s age, nineteen, or maybe twenty, and he was looking between the basket in Julian’s hand and Julian’s face with somewhat unease. Julian shifted Iris to his other hip so he could look at the young man more clearly, without a pink beanie and blonde curls obstructing the view.

“Can I help you?” He asked, no malice or unkind in his voice.

“Uh no I just… dude why do you have girl shi- stuff in your basket?” He asked and Julian had to physically stop himself from gawking at the young man. Although he did appreciate that the man didn’t swear in front of little Iris.

“Because my girlfriend needs them?” He replied, knowing full well it was none of his business.

“Can’t she get it herself?” He asked.

“No, she is in a lot of pain and didn’t feel like leaving the house. Why would I make her do that when I can easily do it for her?” Julian replied and the man shrugged.

“Yeah well, it looks weird man.” He said and Julian tried to not roll his eyes.

“I really don’t care. It’s cotton wrapped in plastic and put in a box and if you’re going to think it’s weird that I am picking them up then I feel sorry for any and all women in your life man. It’s not that hard to be considerate to people you love.” Julian said, swapping the basket to be under Iris again so he could pick up two blocks of chocolate- one for Emma and one for him and Dru when they watched a movie together next- and put into the basket.

“Whatever man, you don’t need to be involved in that business is all I’m saying.” The other boy said, picking up a Hershey’s bar.

“I really do feel sorry for your girlfriend.” Julian said, picking up a small bag of unicorn shaped marshmallows, “And these are for my niece, just in case you think it’s weird I’m carrying more girly stuff.” He added and the other boy turned and walked away without another comment. “Do you want some banana?” Julian asked Iris before turning down the aisle to make his last stop. He knew Helen and Aline would be mad at him if he just fed Iris marshmallows as a snack. Iris nodded, her lips moving around her fingers as she tried to say ‘banana.’ He smiled and kissed her cheek making her giggle and causing his heart to melt. Giggling was much better than screaming or crying anyway.

***

Back in the car Julian buckled Iris into her seat in the back and sat down on the floor of the four wheeler to feed her. He mushed up banana with his fingers and fed her like that, having dealt with feeding both Tavvy and Ty who were ridiculously fussy eaters and being used to the mess it sometimes created. She ate about half the banana before refusing to eat anymore and so he wiped his fingers on a tissue, ate the rest of the banana and gave her a marshmallow to suck and gummy on the drive back to the institute.

***

Helen and Aline were home when he returned and they fussed over their daughter, letting Julian slip away to the den where he found Emma where he had left her although Dru wasn’t there anymore and the TV was showing an old 90’s sitcom. She was looking a little bit better and she sat up a bit as he came into the room, propped up on pillows. She was cuddling a hot water bottle, which she had refused of him before he left, but he was glad she had it anyway. “Hey beautiful, how you feeling?” He asked, sitting down in front of her and dropping a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled away her eyes were closed.

“Better yeah, Dru went and got me this shortly after you left.” She said, gesturing to the water bottle. He smiled and put his hand on her stomach gently, rubbing above the shirt that he had been told many years ago by all of the women in his life that it hurt the most. She kept her eyes closed, slumping back against the cushions.

“Do you want to have a shower and get into bed? I’ll bring you dinner if you don’t want to come down for feeding time at the zoo.” He said and she nodded. He helped her up and they held hands, one carrying the water bottle and the other a shopping bag in their spare hands, down to their bedroom. While Emma showered he put the sanitary products in the bathroom cupboard, put the chocolate on the bedside table on her side of the bed and re-heated the hot water bottle. When he returned she was lying in bed with her hair a little bit damp on the pillow and rolled into the foetal position. He kicked his shoes off and crawled in behind her, holding the hot water bottle around her middle and cuddling her close.

“It hurts.” She moaned and he felt an ache in his own chest that he couldn’t fix her or make her feel better. He kissed her shoulder and rubbed her back gently, whispering that he was sorry and that he loved her and that he wished he could take the pain away for her. Eventually he slipped away to go and make dinner for his family, or at least help Aline do it, but he set up F.R.I.E.N.D.S for her before he left so that she wasn’t left alone in the dark and quiet.

I hope you like it @emmacblackthorn <3 Thank you for your endless support, patience and respect it means the world x

#blackstairs #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #haline #baby haline #uncle!julian #requested #fanfic #one shot #headcanon #tsc #tda #tid #tmi

[bellatrixobsessed1]

A Flame For A Cabbage (Part 5)

Honestly, I think that this is the best (read: worst) chapter yet lmao.

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se…” 

Azula looks at the clock, she does so quickly before it can fade away, leaving her deprived of her sense of time. It is early, only seven o clock. She can’t believe that they are still working on brainwashing that beautiful, chiseled, Adonis-grade boy. His mind must be as impenetrable as the wall of Ba Sing Se…that is to say that she knows he will crack very soon.

She supposes that now is a good time to test her new selling strategy. Unlike the common household dog, Azula is well aware that they have neglected to lock her cell door. She slips out and wanders down the craggy tunnel. Unfortunately she hadn’t the opportunity to devise a plan wherein she gets herself arrested and strikes a deal with Long Feng. Sure, she has the getting herself arrested bit accomplished but with him frequently being plucked from one scene to the next she hasn’t had the opportunity to propose working together in a mutually beneficial and highly efficient business partnership. 

She will eventually, but until the opportunity arises, she must find use for her time. 

Since she hasn’t made an alliance with the Dailluminati, she must acquire herself a disguise so that she may freely elope among them.  

“What are you doing out of your cell?” So much for that plan.

“You left it open so I assumed that I could leave it.” Azula shrugs. “How am I supposed to sell cabbages in a cell. You can’t sell in cell. Well...you can cell in a cell but selling in a cell is…” 

“You are giving me a migraine. Please, stop.” The man grumbles. 

“You probably gave that really beautiful man a migraine when you brainwashed him…”

“It’s fine when we do it.” He replies bluntly. At least he is honest in his hypocrisy. 

“Get back in your cell.” 

“Or…” she begins. “You can take me to your leader. I have a proposal for him.” 

.oOo.

“Look Bosco! The Kyoshi Warriors are here to protect us! Aren't you excited?” Earth King Kuei asks. The bear looks anything but excited. Sei observes the creature with a growing sense of unease. There is just something so unwholesome about it. Something that he can’t place. 

It isn’t part platypus...it is just a bear. That must be it. 

It must be…

Deep down he knows that it is something boundlessly worse... 

He doesn’t get to piece it together, for the Earth King speaks again. “It's been a difficult week for me. My most trusted advisor, Long Feng, and his Dai Li agents tried to take control of Ba Sing Se from me.”  

Funny, Sei doesn’t recall such a plot point. Could it be!? That the author chose to omit the entire thing in a successful  effort to save time but at the cost of a solid story line!?

No. Impossible. 

Authors don’t do that. 

What is an author?

Sie doesn’t vocalize his concerns, instead he pretends that he cares about the other man’s problems. Isn’t that what all self-absorbed fourteen year old girls do when their fellow teenagers are confiding in them. But he is not fourteen, nor is he a girl and neither is the Earth King. Even so, he does not care about the man’s problems so in the most obviously sarcastic drawl he says, “it's terrible when you can't trust the people who are closest to you.”

Mai and Tylee exchange a rather suspicious glance. Sie laughs it off, it is probably nothing to worry about. 

Kuei pets the bear’s fur. Sie shudders. “But there is good news. As we speak, the Council of Five is meeting to plan an invasion of the Fire Nation this summer, on the day of a solar eclipse.” He pauses. “That or it was a DnD campaign. You can never be sure with those guys.” He laughs. 

Sie’s eyes go wide; a DnD campaign! Those had been outlawed after the great dispute between the Gan Jin and Zhang tribes. “Really? Now that sounds like a fascinating and brilliant plan.” 

Mai and TyLee exchange another glance. “Will you two stop that!” 

.oOo.

“Wait here, next to this dead body.” 

Azula nods. Waiting next to a corpse is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. Even if the body does belong to someone extraordinary and ridiculously gorgeous, who she does hate to see not alive. 

“I’m...not…” he struggles. “Dead...yet.” 

“Oh, well, it was really unclear.” Azula dismisses. For a moment she almost leaves it as that. But then she recalls something important. She scans the room before kneeling in close. “I have a secret.”

The beautiful man manages a wheezing laugh. “I get...it. You’re sharing...with..me. Because I’ll be...dead...soon.”

“Shhh.” She brings her pointer to her lips. “Shut up and eat this cabbage.” 

Reluctantly, the boy accepts his final meal. “This tastes…” 

Azula smiles. 

“Dreadful.” 

She folds her arms over her chest. “You will take that back.” 

“I feel…” he stands up with a grin. “I feel better!” 

“You won’t for long, unless you take it back.” 

He holds his hands up. “That was the best cabbage I have ever eaten.”

Azula nods. “One time I went to the Northern Water Tribe and I accidently dropped it in their sacred oasis.” She was going to save that cabbage for an emergency, but this boy. This beautiful boy...she couldn’t let those abs go to waste. 

“So uh...how much?”

“I am glad that you asked.” Azula replies. “You owe me your life. You will follow me wherever I go and you will help me sell cabbages.” 

The man considers. “So like do I get to pose with the cabbages?” 

She nods. 

“Shirtless?” 

She nods again. 

“And I will attract lots of women?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“We have a deal.” He shakes her hand. 

A smirk spreads across her face. Hot promotional model, check. Now all she needs to do is make a marketing team of the Dailluminati and their brainwashing technology. She rubs her hands together in anticipation. 

Yes, indeed, everything is going accordingly. 

“Good evening, merchant.” Comes a familiar high-pitched voice.

“We have a lot to discuss, Long Feng.” She greets. 

.oOo. 

“We have been presented with an extraordinary opportunity, girls.”

“We’ve been invited to join an underground and illegal DnD party!?” TyLee exclaimes. 

“Well, I was actually going to point out that Mai is finally wearing make up that isn’t totally depressing.” Sie confessess. “But it is also worth mentioning that we can conquer the whole Earth Kingdom.” Sie looks down at the script in his hand and sighs. He hates expository rants. “For one hundred years, the Fire Nation has…” He squints at the smudged writing, “holla...ha..hammered... hammered! For one hundred years, the Fire Nation has hammered away at Ba Sing Se from the outside. But now we're on the inside, and we can take it by ourselves.”

“Gosh, you're so confident. I really admire that about you.” TyLee beams at him. 

That would mean a lot to him if it wasn’t part of the script and if he weren’t questioning her loyalty. “From the inside, we're in perfect position to organize a coup and overthrow the Earth King. The key is the Dai Li. Whoever controls the Dai Li controls Ba Sing Se.”

So why does he feel like things won’t work in his favor?

.oOo.

“And what do I have to gain from this?”

She should feel nervous, she is just a humble cabbage farmer. She doesn’t have much to offer in way of possessions and she doesn’t have an extravagant title to wave in his face. “Oh...you know…” She winks.

“What?” Long Feng asks. 

She winks again. 

“What is in it for me?”

She leans in only a hair closer and drops her voice to a whisper. “Something really cool.” 

“And what is this something?” He implores.

“You’ll find out if you join me.” 

“You don’t have anything to offer do you?” 

Azula gives a haughty sniff and turns her head. “Fine.” She lets the word hang there, in fact it echos down the cavern. The acoustics in this underground lair are fantastic! “Jet, let’s go.” 

“Wait!” Long Feng says as she stands. “I thought that he was dead...how?” 

She winks at him a final time. 

She knows that she has him now. 

.oOo.

“I'm tired of wearing this girly disguise. I don't know how anyone could fight in this.” Mai sighs audibly.

“Maybe that's why it was so easy to beat the Kyoshi Warriors and take their clothes.” TyLee shrugs. “Which is really weird when you think about it. Do you think that they’re wearing our clothes right now? Or are they wearing twigs and leaves!?” 

Mai does not want to think about that, not at all. So she gets them back on track. “How much longer do we have to serve the Earth King? If I have to clean up one more pile of bear poop, I'm going to throw up. I’m not even sure if that is a bear...it’s just...there’s something off about it.” 

“Princess Sie promised that we would go back to the Fire Nation as soon as we captured the Avatar. We just have to be patient!” TyLee declares very very very very extremely not quietly.

Mai stands up, and much louder--as though they were in a high school lunchroom shouting ‘BOOB’ progressively louder just to bother the teachers--snaps, “shush up! Do you want the whole palace to know we're Fire Nation?” Her voice carries. 

“Sorry!” TyLee winces, not bothering to point out that Mai had literally been speaking into a megaphone. 

Sie watches the Dailluminati agents crawl away. A single tear slides down his cheek. He wanders out from behind a pillar, “what have you two done?”

.oOo.

“Soooo.” Azula mutters. “What was it like to die?” 

“Oh, uh, it was terrible.” 

Azula nods and makes a soft humming noise. “Tell me more.” 

“Well, one minute I was helping the Avatar...”

Azula scoffs. The Avatar, that wretched stall wrecking, havoc wreaking miscreant. She will take her vengeance in time. “Mmm hmm…” she says just to make sure he thinks that she is still listening. 

“Yeah, it was pretty rough, ya know?” 

“Yes.” She nods. “I’ve been through something similar.” Though she doesn’t know if this is true. She does not know what happened the next minute. 

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” 

“Engage in political battles, though I haven’t had an opportunity to do that yet. I like to sell cabbages.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah that’s your job, but what do you do in your free time?”

Azula blinks. “I...sell cabbages?” 

Now the boy blinks. “But what else do you do?” 

“Ohhh.” Azula nods, she understands now. “I grow cabbages!” 

“Alright, while we’re waiting for Long Feng to take care of whatever he said he needs to do, do you want to do something that doesn’t involve cabbages?”

“No!” She says too abruptly for her liking. “No, absolutely not.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He promises. 

“I don’t even know your name.” She points out. “I’ve just been calling you, ‘that beautiful man’.” 

“I’m Jet.” He smiles and holds his hand out. “Let’s go do an activity together.” 

.oOo.

“Thank goodness you're here, Suki.” Katara kicks the door in. “Something terrible is going on. The Fire Nation has infiltrated the city, I just saw Prince Zuko and his uncle!”

Sie cringes, both at the sound of the door bouncing off of the walls (he notes the crack that it leaves in the expensive wall tiling) and at the mention of his brother and uncle.

“We have to tell the Earth King right away!”

Sie clears his throat, “oh, don't worry, I'll be sure to let him know.” 

Katara’s eyes go wide when she notices that she is speaking to a man and that Kyoshi Warriors are all women. She holds out her hand to attack but TyLee is quicker. 

“So, Zuko’s in the city, too? I think it's time to get as far away from here as possible so I don’t have to deal with an awkward family reunion.” Not that he has a choice; as soon as the Dailluminati come to retrieve Katara, they seize him too. 

“What is this about?” He asks, knowing very well what this is about. “Your agents show up in the middle of the night and drag me down here? You will not treat a Kyoshi Warrior this way!” 

“Kay Karen…” Long Feng snickers. 

Sie scowls and then realization hits. There is only one person who has ever called him that. His mind wanders back to the very first time he encountered the cabbage merchant. He had left his wallet on the airship but had already finished his cabbage so he plucked one of his hairs from his head and insisted that she had put it in his meal and demanded a refund and better customer service. She had looked him dead in the eye and said, “kay, Karen.” 

He has hated her since. 

“But you're not a Kyoshi Warrior, are you, Princess Sie of the Fire Nation?”

So the moment has come. “What do you want?”

“I want to make a deal. It's time that I regain control of Ba Sing Se and you have something I need.”

“Oh?”

“The Earth King's trust.”

He does have that doesn’t he? Geez, he’s put up with that uncanny bear long enough, he ought to have earned some trust. 

“Combined with my other secret weapon, I can’t possibly fail.” Long Feng strokes his beard. 

“What secret weapon?”

“Oh,” Long Feng chuckles. “It’s a secret to me as well, but it’s supposed to be really cool.”

Sie’s eyes narrow. This is starting to sound suspicious as hell. “Why should I help you?”

“Because I can get you the Avatar.”

His eyes light up. Father will be just pleased! “I'm listening …”

.oOo.

“What is that?” Azula cocks her head. 

Jet’s face bunches into a goofy smile and he gives one of those snorty nose laughs. It is the least attractive thing that Azula has ever seen in her life. “Dickbutt.” He replies in an equally goofy and higher pitched voice. 

He steps back to admire his artwork. “I can’t wait ‘til they see this.”

Azula hopes that she will not be around, she is still hoping for a business partnership with the Jasmine Dragon. She can’t imagine that dickbutt will look good on her application. She might as well pencil one onto the parchment and hand it to the owner. 

“This is fun.” Jet says. “You’re having fun, right?”

“Is this really what people do when they aren’t growing cabbages?” 

Jet nods. “It sure is.”

#Avatar #Azula #Cabbage Man #Jet #Mai #TyLee #Katara #Fanfiction

[junionigiri]

Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea Ch 6: Can We Talk

Summary: Things go wrong in the feelings department in the worst way

Relationships: Todoroki Shouto/Uraraka Ochako; past Shindo You/Uraraka Ochako; background Tokage Setsuna/Jirou Kyoka

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: um. Angst and I’m sorry about that. Pls don’t hate Yui

“Hey there,” someone says from behind her. “That’s… an interesting thing your doing to our weights.”

Uraraka Ochako, fifteen years old, first year student of Ketsubutsu High’s general studies department, looks guiltily from the floating set of weights to the owner of the voice.

Her eyes meet dark hair, all messed up but in a nice way, like he just rolled out of bed. A handsome face with a sharp jaw, a little dirty and scratched from a scuffle. His gym clothes are all soaked with sweat and burnt and torn to shreds at different areas. He smells like he rolled around a barbeque pit, making her wonder what the heck are these hero course students doing, killing themselves in training?

“Oh,” she says in embarrassment, releasing her quirk on the weights all at once. They fall noisily on the concrete floor, making an ugly sound that causes both of them to flinch. “Yeah, sorry. Am I allowed here? If I’m not, can you pretend that this didn’t happen? Sorry, I got bored, and my friends--”

He raises two pretty eyebrows at her, lets one side of his mouth curl up in interest. “You got bored waiting for your friends, so you started floating weights around? Most girls just play on their phones or text, or something,” he says with amusement.

She shrugs and scratches the back of her head. “I would, believe me, but--”

Her phone is an ancient thing with a huge line in the middle of the screen that dies when she uses it for more than fifteen minutes. It’s at ten percent right now, and she left her charger at home, and she really didn’t want to walk the 2 kilometers to her tiny apartment in the darkening city without a working phone.

She doesn’t want to explain the pathetic story of her phone and poverty, though, so she stammers out, “Much more interestin’ usin’ my quirk than playin’ Candy Crush, that’s fer sure.”

He guffaws, and she sees a row of perfect, mesmerizing white teeth. “Well, you’re right about that,” he says. “You’re also right about you not being allowed here. This place is technically for hero course students only.”

She flinches. “Um… okay… so about the pretending part--”

He tilts his head, a smile that’s both playful and devious on his lips. “You asking me to be an accomplice, Ms. General Studies?”

On the surface, that easygoing smile is telling her that it’s okay to say yes. But Ochako finds something a little disconcerting under that facade of his--she knows he’s plotting something under that pretty boy face of his, but what?

She stares dumbly at him, not really sure what to do, until he laughs and breaks the tension. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t see anything,” he tells her with another easy smile. “Just don’t do it again. You might wreck our equipment with that quirk of yours, ya know?”

She feels her ears turn red. “I’m sorry, I just got surprised. I don’t get to practice my quirk as much as you guys,” she says, picking up the weights one by one, floating the heavier ones in the air. She tries to be gentle with the landing, but partial gravity release is hard. When she releases them, the guy has to run and catch them in one hand.

Muscles in his arm bulge as he does. She bites her lower lip.

She isn’t sure if he notices. He pauses a bit, eyebrow raised. “That’s too bad, ‘cos your quirk is cool. If you went to the heroes course, I think we’d work really great together.”

She blushes further. No-one has ever told her that her quirk was anything other than ‘okay’, because while it’s exceedingly simple compared to others, at least it didn’t make her look weird or smell bad. ‘Cool’ isn’t a term she’s ready to hear. “Thank you,” she says, because she isn’t sure what else to say.

The guy steps closer to her. “I’m not just saying it. I’m serious. You don’t look like you believe me.”

She laughs awkwardly and steps back. “I… I didn’t say that.”

“Here, I’ll prove it to you.” Suddenly her hands are in his, and he’s staring right into her eyes and she’s paralyzed.

She hears her heart pounding wildly in her chest, feels the blood rush from her brain to her heart to her cheeks and the sound is so loud she almost doesn’t understand what the boy tells her next.

“Let’s spar. Right here.”

She freezes. Makes a silly face that makes him laugh out loud.

“I’m serious!” he repeats, dragging her to the sparring area with cushions. She stammers all the way there, even when he somehow gets her to pull off her shoes and stand in front of him, arms akimbo. “It’ll be quick. You try to activate the floaty thing on me, and I’ll try to dodge. Promise, I won’t use my quirk against you or knock you out or anything.”

She gives him another ridiculous look, shakes her head. “Are you sure?”

He smiles lazily at her, and positions herself for combat.

With a smirk, she tosses her uniform blazer aside, rolls up her sleeves, gets into position.

It’s a tough seven minutes, but it ends with the over-enthusiastic boy hooting up the ceiling in excitement, and Ochako collapsing on the mat from sheer exhaustion.

She releases the quirk, and he falls, lands on all fours like it’s no trouble. He helps her up with one pull of a strong arm and asks for her name, as if the thought just came to him then.

What a weirdo, she thinks, and tells him her name.

After that fight, life goes on in General Studies. In between struggling with English and chatting with her friends about the cafes they want to visit after school, Ochako doesn’t think much about him, except in quiet moments where she’s alone and she’s free to squeal and smile and roll over in her bed like an idiot.

Two weeks later, she finds a letter in her locker--a messy scrawl asking to meet with her outside. No signature. Her girl friends squeal at the potential confession. She shrinks at the potential threat.

When she gets there, Shindo Yo, as promised, stands there by himself with just his easy smile and his sincerity. “Uraraka-san, I like you,” he says with an intense look in his pretty dark eyes that makes her melt. He takes both hands in hers again, making sure that her finger-pads don’t make either of them float this time. “Please go out with me.”

She manages to say yes, somehow, despite the fireworks going off in her little brain. The happy smile on his face makes her heart feel full. He holds her hand, fingers intertwined, and takes her home.

When they find out the next day, all her friends squeal and ask how the heck did you manage to get the most popular guy in the hero course to look at you? At the risk of admitting violating school policy, she keeps her mouth shut and her smile consistently mysterious. 

Days later, she opens her shoe locker and finds it full of garbage.

 *

 Ochako, strangely enough, misses the unsophisticated, garbage-in-your-locker type of bullying in high school. Because at least then she has a concrete, visual evidence of all the nasty shit going on in those evil little minds of theirs. Plus she can make the garbage float above the bullies and make the icky shit drip over their heads. It’s a satisfying stunt she pulled off once, and paid for with a hard shove against her locker, which didn’t make it any less worth it.

Now that she’s all grown-up there’s nothing as solid as garbage that showed their nasty thoughts in striking clarity. Only whispers and dirty looks that just won’t die down. Only these so-called professionals making her wait for too long when she needs to endorse important things about patients, and then blaming her for her slowness when things happen. Only anonymous comments on her (already locked) social media accounts and on the HGH Facebook pages that make not-so-subtle comments about her spending so much time staring into Doctoroki’s eyes that she makes a lot of mistakes at work.

Her HGH ‘parents’ are enraged, of course. Mina especially is always on the verge of throwing hands at anyone who so much as squints in Ochako’s direction. Eijiro, the more rational parent, has been coaching her to tell the nursing supervisor about the goings-on, but how is she going to do that when one of them told her to keep her relationship from affecting her work?

Also! How can her ‘relationship’ get in the way of work, anyway, when there isn’t much happening in that area? Sure, they make enough public appearances (lunch in the very middle of the cafeteria, facing each other, fifteen minutes max twice that week!) to keep the charade going, but… Doctoroki and her have gone back to being quiet.

It’s not that they’re being cold. They text as often as they can, but things have been insane at work. Shouto needed to back-up Dr. Momo a lot this week. There has also been an increase in villain activity everywhere, which means more wounded civilians and pros to tend to. Ochako herself feels the strain. She replies to him diligently, tries to get a conversation going despite the hour-long gaps in between replies.

It definitely isn’t the same as the nice talk they had over the weekend. She supposes this is why there are articles and articles in girly magazines about how hard it is to date anyone in the medical profession--for them, time is a construct that only serves to tell them how much they haven’t accomplished yet.

But at least this time Shouto seems to be a little less clinical in his texts.

  Todoroki Shouto (1434H): Got a case with pedia--trauma, burn injuries, just stabilized. The pro who rescued the child days ago just visited. Midoriya is having his pre-op crying session as we speak.

Todoroki Shouto (1434H): Should I comfort him, or let him be? I feel very out of place just watching him here.

 Ochako giggles imagining the scene. Deku-kun doesn’t always need the pre-op sobfest, but in hard cases he does it to focus, and so he doesn’t burst out into tears in the middle of the OR. Or so he says.

Three hours ago, she realizes, as she looks at the timestamps. If the other nurses didn’t make her wait so long and didn’t give her such a hard time during endorsements, she might have been able to reply to him earlier.

She starts to type, sorry, Shouto… you know, im having a hard time with work lately

… and then shakes her head, puffs her cheeks, deletes. No, don’t… Shouto doesn’t need to hear your drama, he doesn’t need more emotional load, he doesn’t have that sort of responsibility for you. This isn’t real. Isn’t real.

  Me (1737H): sry! Brought a couple of cases to med ward, took a while!

Me (1738H): i hope u told him he was gonna be okay! deku-kun needs a lot of tlc!!!

Me (1738H): work hard!!! I hope the baby makes it :(

 She sighs and drops her phone in her scrubsuit pocket and patiently waits for her ‘tattoo date’ in the hospital lobby.

Her phone vibrates again, and she inhales a bit, hoping that it’s Dr. Tokage telling her that she’s on the way down and they can finally go to Illusion Inks for her next session with Jirou. It’ll be an hour of her being pierced with needles while watching two pretty girls shamelessly flirt while she simmers in mild jealousy, but it’s definitely better than moping about at home and waiting for the next reply from--

  Shindo Yo (1740H): Hi, Uraraka-san!

Shindo Yo (1741H): Busy day at work, I bet (✖╭╮✖) it’s the same for us too

Shindo Yo (1741H): what r u up to?

 She stares glumly at the texts. Of course it isn’t Doctoroki. She breathes, asks herself why she’s doing this, but does it anyway.

  Me (1742H): I’m on my way out of work, senpai.

Shindo Yo (1743H): wow, ur replying fast to me today! Happy~ Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

Shindo Yo (1745H): u must be rly rly pissed at work today huh? lol

Me (1747H): ig

Me (1747H): lots of villain attacks lately. busy

Shindo Yo (1748H): u know it :( we’re trying our best too. Just worked a double shift cos of that. Im beat!

Me (1749H): same

Shindo Yo (1750H): yeah u look like it 〈(゜。゜) gotta do sth bout that

 She freezes and narrows her eyes at the text. Wait, don’t tell me--

  Me (1751H): senpai. Dont be creepy

Shindo Yo (1752H): waaaah im not

Me (1752H): im callin security

Shindo Yo (1753H): pls dont i promise im not bein creepy!!!

Me (1754H): yes. u. r!!!!

Shindo Yo (1754H): only a little!!! just dont move ok?

 From her vantage point in the middle sofa, she immediately looks around the lobby. There are only a few people sitting, waiting, speaking to the receptionist, who all suddenly turn to her with barely-concealed interest in their eyes.

She smells strawberries from behind her. When she turns her head, she gets a faceful of box and strawberry scent. “What the--”

“Whoa, easy,” that familiar voice says with a chuckle. “You really are extra pissed today, huh.”

She gets the box out of her face and gives Shindo Yo a solid glare. “Senpai! What are you doing here?!” she squeaks.

He isn’t wearing his skimpy hero uniform, thank god. He’s in a shirt, a leather jacket and skinny jeans, a lazy smile on his face that would have made her stupid with want in her younger years. He chuckles again and leans forward. No sense of personal space whatsoever, as usual. “Had business here. I’m just waiting for my associate to get to the lobby so we can time out.”

She raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. “We?”

“My new agency, remember? We’ve been crazy busy lately, but when we get time we try to see the people we help out on the field.” He moves the box around, as if it’s proof enough of his claims. “I just saw a young lady I rescued from an attack in Naruhata. She gave me an entire box of strawberry mochi. Which is sweet, but unfortunate, seein’ as I don’t really like sweets and all…”

Even though it’s not uncommon for pro heroes to do just that, especially the young ones, Ochako isn’t convinced. “Really. Where is she admitted?”

Shindo rolls his eyes, pulls out a card attached from the box and reads. “Dear Seismic-sama, Thank you for saving my life. Heart eyes. It isn’t much, but please accept my gift! This is my fav snack ever and I hope this makes you happy, exclamation exclamation. Stars and hearts and cute rabbit with hearts for eyes. Love, Luna-chan from room 432.”

He lets her read the card, and she has to admit that the glittery gel ink and the cutesy handwriting makes it look genuine. She stops narrowing her eyes. “Okay. I guess that’s pretty nice, senpai.”

“Right?” he says with a proud little grin. “Am I still creepy, Uraraka-san?”

She puffs her cheeks. “You still are,” she says with a petulant upturn of the nose. “I really thought you were waiting to ambush me! You really gotta be less weird when you text!”

“Haha, fine fine.” He tries to look apologetic, but not really. “So… you alone here? Are you waiting for Todoroki-san, or…”

“Oh… no… he’s busy,” she says. Instinctively, she looks at her phone and sees no messages. She wonders if the surgery is over.

“Hm. Odd.” There’s a little devious glint in his eyes as he says it, one that makes Ochako narrow her eyes at him again like he’s a creep. “What, I’m just saying! Because she told me she’s just finished talking to him, and--”

She? Who she? Also, what would Shindo know about Todoroki anyway? Seriously, why does he care so much about the two of them, when--

“Shindo-senpai. Uraraka-san,” someone says from behind him, making Ochako’s words of protest die in her mouth.

Two people approach from behind them, staring at their conversation as if it’s the strangest thing in the world. Ochako meets Kodai Yui’s raven eyes and glassy skin and aura of gentleness that she’ll never achieve in her lifetime ever. The momentary breathlessness that any normal person gets from staring at her magnifies upon seeing the person next to her.

“Oh… Yui-chan and Todoroki-kun,” Shindo says. Standard friendly smile on his face, a raise of an eyebrow as he glances at Ochako knowingly. “You guys done with your little talk?”

Ochako doesn’t mean to stare, but the way Shouto looks at her in a mildly perturbed manner makes her wonder how shocked her face must look like.

Yui nods. “Our patient is okay. Todoroki-san and Midoriya-san did well.”

The other pro nods, and then sticks his hand out to shake Shouto’s. “So I guess that means I should congratulate you, Doc? Yui-chan was so worried about Tanuki-kun. She was pretty happy knowing that you were on board the case and all, ya know?”

Face not moving the slightest, Shouto nods and takes Shindo’s hand. “Thank you. Seismic-san, right?”

“Nah, you can call me Shindo. Or, senpai. We didn’t go to the same school, but we’re both proper heroes, you and I,” he says, eyes creasing. “Uraraka-san calls me that, so I don’t mind if you do too.”

“Hm,” says Shouto, looking at Ochako curiously.

Ochako stupidly looks down on her hands.

Yui glances at the two of them with an unreadable look before looking at Shindo again. “Senpai, Yoarashi-san might be wondering where we are right now.”

“Ah, you’re right.” Shindo makes a bashful face and bows to the two of them. “Sorry for cutting our conversation off so abruptly, Uraraka-san! I guess we can continue next time, eh?”

“Huh? No, that’s--”

Before she can protest no, we aren’t talking about anything important at all, don’t say misleading things in front of my fake boyfriend, Shindo is already pushing Yui by her shoulders out of the lobby and giving the two of them a small wave of one hand. Soon, they disappear in the elevators, leaving the doctor and the nurse alone.

Shouto blinks once and trains his eyes to hers. “You two seem close,” he says neutrally.

She nods, bites her lower lip. “I knew him from high school.”

My first boyfriend, she wants to say. First person I ever loved. First boy to ever break my heart. Because it’s the truth, a distant one that’s so far away that she should feel nothing significant if she admits them.

Still, she doesn’t. And she wonders why the words don’t come.

“Hm,” Shouto repeats.

There’s something odd going on in his eyes, something very hard to read. Ochako decides that if he were to ask anything at all about Shindo, that she’d tell him everything--how they started and how they ended and how Shindo is weaseling himself back into her life and she’s probably giving him one too many chances to do so by replying to his stupid texts because she’s stupid and lonely and stressed over all the gossip and all the things going on in Shouto’s family that really isn’t any of their faults--basically all that she can’t tell Shouto because heaven knows he’s got too much on his plate as it is, and Shindo seems to like listening to her, but she really wished that it was just Shouto and her and none of this shitty drama--and even though none of this is real, sometimes it feels so real , just like their drive back from Shizuoka, and--

And…

And, Shouto doesn’t say a single word. And… all that senseless drivel dies down her throat. She looks down on her hands again and gives up on that trainwreck of ideas.

Instead, she braces herself and says, “You and Yui-san.”

He blinks. Without a word or a single movement, waits for her to continue.

She inhales as quietly as she can, and speaks again. “I didn’t know you guys spoke too,” she manages, without any incriminating lilts to her tone. Or so she hopes. “I mean… I’m not, you know--I’m just a little bit surprised, I didn’t know she was the pro you were talking about earlier--”

Ochako do you really sound as much as a jealous bitch as you do in your head?! You’re just stating cold hard facts, so don’t be weird about this. Don’t be stupid.

Shouto speaks, after a beat of loaded silence. “I should have texted you about her, I suppose,” he says quietly. “She went to us right before the surgery to make sure that--”

“Paging Dr. Todoroki to ER. Dr. Todoroki, to ER now. Dr. Todoroki--”

They look up the ceiling, then at each other, and down on the ground simultaneously. Open their mouths at the same time, wordlessly clamp them shut as if they’re each other’s awkward, awkward mirrors.

Shouto exhales quietly, and says, “I should go. That might be Dr. Aizawa looking for me. I heard there’s been another Nomu attack nearby.”

Ochako nods. She tries to give a bright smile. “Okay. Do your best, Todoroki-kun.”

“Okay. Be careful going home, Uraraka.” He looks down on her hands, that odd look never leaving. Ochako carefully stares at his mouth, waits for the usual smile he gives her before they part ways.

It doesn’t come. Soon she watches his broad back disappear as he goes past the doors to the ER.

Later, she realizes that she’s still holding the box that Shindo left behind. For Seismic-sama, the card reads, clearly visible to the naked eye.

She wants to shove her face repeatedly into the stupid mochi.

 *

 The bothersome feelings of that odd encounter don’t leave her, not even when Setsuna eventually makes it to the lobby and asks her why she looks like she looks like Dr. Shiozaki after talking to an atheist. She manages not to say a lot of how she feels on the way to Illusion Ink, but eventually caves to the heavy interrogation when Kyoka starts working on her tattoo again.

(It’s really hard to be dishonest while a sharp needle is drawing lines on the inner, softer side of your arm.)

She doesn’t tell them about the fake-dating scheme. Just her honest troubles about people talking shit and treating her like shit, but not hard enough that she can complain to people about it. People hinting that she isn’t good enough for Shouto, just because she’s an ordinary nurse with an ordinary face and an ordinary quirk, and how fucked up it is that people would rather see him with Yui-san rather than someone like her.

And actually seeing him with Yui-san, out of nowhere… that took her by surprise. Made her feel weirder than it should. Shouto didn’t even look that bothered when Ochako was eyeing the two of them with all those silent questions floating in her head. She was ready to listen to whatever excuse--no, explanation he would give, but he got paged, and all she has is that heavy shitty feeling in her tummy to bring home.

“Hm,” Kyoka says, as she lifts the needle and dabs her swollen skin with gauze. (Lots of people going hm this evening. She’s starting to get sick of it.) “And you say that Doctoroki saw you talking to that Shindo guy at the lobby, right?”

Ochako winces, but doesn’t say anything.

“Hm,” Setsuna concurs, as her sharp teeth work through a strawberry mochi. “Todoroki saw, all right. I was watching all of you from the back, ‘cause it looked like drama was ‘bout to go down--”

Her jaw drops, allowing a shocked stupid sound escape from it.

“-- and it was obvious that Seismic was super into you,” she continues without an ounce of shame. Her disembodied hand floats and stuffs a mochi into Kyoka’s mouth, who receives it blankly. “If I were Todoroki, I’d be super bothered. But he didn’t say anything at all after that encounter. Right, Ochako-chan?”

She closes her jaw, and winces again. That’s also part of why she feels like shit right now. “Is it weird that I feel bad that he didn’t feel bad about this?”

The other girls look at each other. “Well… I mean if it were us, and it was Yui instead of Seismic makin’ eyes at Kyoka-chan, I won’t be bothered,” says the lizard girl thoughtfully.

“I agree. Yui looks like a sweetheart,” the tattoo apprentice agrees with a sage nod. “I even got her photobook! It’s really nice, I understand why they had a stampede over it--”

“Oh shit, is it the unofficial one by the photographer, Spiral?” gasps Setsuna, eyes wide when Kyoka nods at her smugly. “Let me borrow please omg I heard the entire book is soul-cleansing, and heaven knows my dead and rotting soul needs cleansing--”

Ochako immediately realizes that she’s speaking with the wrong pair. She sighs as they gush a little more about Yui, until they notice her simmering in a pool of insecurity.

“Oh, but we don’t mean that you’re any less of a sweetheart than Yui,” says the internist with a cackle. “Uh… right. What I was saying was, it’s different, what happened earlier. Seismic and you? I dunno, I guess for others it looks like you guys were just talking but… when I saw you I had half a mind to get you out of there… something just didn’t feel right, I guess? And I was totally waitin’ for Todoroki to do the same, but...”

He didn’t. The little nurse twists her lip. “I wish you got me out of there, Dr. Tokage,” she sighs. “Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so…”

Disappointed. Guilty. 

“Weird,” she finishes, with a sigh.

“Hm.” Kyoka and Setsuna say in unison, eyeing her with sympathy and suspicion and it’s weird how they mixed those together.

“Well,” the tattoo artist says thoughtfully, triangular eyes boring right into hers in the most grown-up glint she’s ever seen, “I get the confusion, I really do. You’re dealing with a lot at work, so you’re not at your best right now. Maybe that thing with that Shindo guy is nothing, and that thing with Yui is nothing, and maybe it isn’t worth it to be weird about it. But I think that all those weird things that you’re feeling should be expressed as they are to Doctoroki. You know? I mean… it might be a weird conversation, but you guys are in a real, adult relationship--”

She tries not to choke at the last part.

“--and real, adult relationships require real, adult conversations. Otherwise, there’d be misunderstandings, and trust me, those are the things you want to deal with as soon as possible. Right, Setsuna?”

Setsuna nods and gives Ochako a sawtooth smile. “Gotta say, Ochako-chan, you got your work cut out for you, eh? Shouto’s a talker, isn’t he?”

The nurse sighs deeply. He can be, if he wants to, but it’s obvious that he didn’t want to say anything earlier. Maybe for him it’s all nothing.

Maybe she should talk to him about it. But… how to start talking to Todoroki Shouto about… feelings ?

Yikes, Ochako. Good luck.

The troubled nurse closes her eyes as Kyoka continues shading the entire planet Saturn on her arm.

 *

  Me (2143H): hey! Im home from illusion ink. Arm hurts like crazy. Dr Tokage gave me a ride back. How r u?

Todoroki Shouto (2200H): That’s good. I’m waiting for our turn to use the OR. It’s going to be a busy night.

Me (2202H): Oh no. Please do your best! ;;;;

Todoroki Shouto (2201H): Thank you. I will.

Me (2217H): Say, Shouto. I know this is weird for me to ask, but

Me (2218H): Can we talk?

Todoroki Shouto (2219H): ?

Todoroki Shouto (2219H): We’re talking now.

Me (2220H): No, I mean. Like a real talk irl. Over food or sth

Me (2221H): I can treat you anywhere u like promise

Todoroki Shouto (2221H): Ah.

Todoroki Shouto (2222H): It might be difficult to do so soon. I’ll do my best to make time.

Todoroki Shouto (2224H): I’ll let you know as soon as I can.

Me (2226H): Oh! Thats totally fine i get wat u mean

Me (2228H): so yeah, i guess ill just wait for ur schedule to clear up;; and mine too hahaha

Me (2245H): ah, so, i gotta go to bed soon, got the morning shift tomorrow

Me (2246H): good night ^_^

  Todoroki Shouto (0214H): Sorry about that. We just got out of surgery.

Todoroki Shouto (0215H): Please be patient with me, Ochako.

Todoroki Shouto (0230H): Good night.

 *

 Things happen. Outside, society’s on the verge of crumbling because villains keep popping up left and right.

Life in the hospital, however, goes on.

This week, Shouto and Ochako manage to make exactly one public appearance: a coffee run at the convenience store next to the hospital lobby, before he forces his sleep-deprived self to drive her home. She isn’t sure if he does it out of obligation to their set-up, or if he needed a functioning pair of eyes at the passenger seat to wake him up if he falls asleep on the wheel… which happens twice, at different stoplights.

They make it to Ochako’s apartment without incident. She watches him carefully as he rubs his tired eyes and takes a swig of the cheap coffee, which makes his mouth curl in distaste. “Are you going to make it home, Doctoroki?”

He nods, although his sallow eyes seem to say the contrary.

She swallows nervously and says, “You can… take a nap inside, if you want to--”

“I’ll be okay,” Shouto says, with sudden clarity. “I don’t want to impose.”

But you should, she thinks. “I don’t want you to get in an accident.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t. Promise.”

He drains the coffee, to prove his point further. Ochako continues to eye him warily, but it looks like entering her tiny home will make him more uncomfortable than dying on the road, so she keeps her mouth shut.

“You can… take a nap in your car, if you need to,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt with a sense of defeat.

“Don’t worry about me.” He tries to look at her with some assurance. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home. Or when they pull me out of the wreckage. Either way.”

She laughs nervously. That’s all she can do at this point.

Thankfully, twenty minutes later as she sits on the floor biting her fingernails to the crescent, Shouto sends a photo of his car, parked safely in the garage. Home. I’ll be sleeping in a bit. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.

And that’s that, for the week. Ochako feels a little empty, if she were being completely honest with herself, but really, she shouldn’t have hoped for anything different than this sudden exhausted back-and-forth between them.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to feel much more than that.

Because as it happens, on the dull Tuesday that follows, all hell breaks loose in the feelings department, in the worst way that it can.

 *

 It happens like this:

1409H. Most of her work is done, she isn’t on deck for the next procedure. All her paperworks are done, and her shift is essentially over. It’s one of those rare good days at work where she finishes on time. Eijirou and Yuuga are done, too, and to celebrate the rare miracle of being out of the hospital in the light of day, they decide to treat themselves to a nice meal.

Eijirou and Yuuga argue about where to go for some time. In hindsight, Ochako thinks that things might have gone differently if Yuuga had insisted on wanting to eat Monoma’s croque madame a little bit more, but as it happens Eijirou convinces them that NTG cafe is the way to go, because have you even tried their truffle pasta Aoyama? Oh my god you should, and also he wants to see if the owner, Bakugou, is doing okay today. (He doesn’t elaborate much when he’s asked why he wants to check, though.)

Ochako hasn’t been to this cafe much--the first time she ordered something, Bakugou was manning the counter and had the gall to write RoundFace on her cup. Never mind how accurate it is, and how very amused Mina was at the time it happened, it was still pretty darn rude. But she digresses.

Today, though, the other blonde barista named Kaminari takes their orders, and they take a seat at the back of the cafe, near the exit at the other side.

As they wait, Yuuga gushes about the Idiabazal cheese he got thru the Cheese of the Month club. Ochako tries to be interested, but ducks down to send a message on her phone very quickly:

  Me (1432H): I finished work on time today so im eatin out with eijirou-kun and yuuga-kun :) i hope work won’t be too insane for you today.

 She stares at the screen for a good minute after she sends it, expects nothing and sees nothing. She pushes her phone back to her pocket, tries to lose herself in Yuuga’s sparkles, and…

The cafe collectively holds its breath, as the pro-hero Yui enters.

Even Yuuga pauses for a good second to say, “Ah! My, isn’t she stunning?”

Dressed simply in a sleeveless white shirt and jeans that fit her just right; very light make-up that enhances the glow of her face. Straight, dark hair that falls over her shoulders. She goes to the counter to place her order, not minding how Kaminari instantly goes whey and almost messes everything up.

“Yeah, she is,” Ochako admits with just a smidgen of sour in her voice. She watches as Yui regards the grenade-matryoshka bomb at the counter with prolonged interest, opening and closing the doll as if it’s the most amusing thing in the world.

Huh, she thinks, seeing the unmistakable smile on the other girl’s face. So she can do something else with her mouth…

She reprimands herself for sounding so mean, and goes back to sipping her cold brew.

The door chimes as another person enters the cafe. She doesn’t look up, not until she hears Eijirou cough, and Yuuga hum in surprise.

Ochako almost doubles over herself, when she sees the scene in front of her.

Todoroki Shouto looks mildly out of breath, like he ran on the way there. His coat is slung over his arm, and when he reaches out to touch Yui on the shoulder, she turns and stares at him as if she’s expecting him to be there.

“What the,” Eijirou mumbles, looking at Ochako with more than just a little concern.

They exchange very sparse words, and pick a table at the other, more intimate end of the cafe. They don’t seem to notice that they are there. When they sit, Shouto’s back is to them. Yui’s face is visible from Ochako’s vantage point, if she peeks over the other customers’ shoulders.

“Well… this is quite étrange ,” Yuuga whispers to her, conspiratorially. “Did you know about this, mon enfant? ”

She numbly shakes her head and keeps an eye on them from a distance. Yui seems to be saying, thank you for meeting me here, Todoroki-san. You must be busy.

Eijirou reaches out for her hand. “Baby, you okay? Maybe we should go there and say hi? You know, it could be nothing, and...”

Ochako shakes her head again, and watches Shouto’s head move a little as he speaks. The heroine replies with a curt nod. There are plenty of words being exchanged--she misses a lot of the words being said, and barely deciphers, I understand. For your family though, this might be important.

The blonde turns to her with a questioning stare. “ Mes amies, Ochako doesn’t look so well, perhaps we should leave instead, let her have some fresh air--”

“Shush, you two,” she snaps, a little too sternly than she means. Her two friends flinch and look down. She’ll say sorry later, but now she can’t feel any sense of apology, she can’t feel anything--

Okay, Yui says, an odd look in her eyes. Her mouth doesn’t move from its usual straight, impassive line. She says something that Ochako can’t quite catch, and then--

I want to hold your hand.

Shouto freezes. Ochako freezes even more, because Yui reaches out and holds his right hand, and he doesn’t stop her, and she says something in such a low voice, her mouth barely moving, like it’s a secret between the two of them, and Shouto leans forward, says something back, and--

“Babe.” Eijirou’s tone is sharper now, sharp enough to cut through the panicked haze that her head is suddenly lost in. “Ochako. Look at me.”

She does just that, and wonders why his face is suddenly so hazy and why it’s hard to breathe. When she inhales, it’s shaky, and an ugly sob wants to escape from her open mouth. She doesn’t let it though, she focuses on the way Eijirou is holding her hand and the way Yuuga is patting comforting circles at her back, keeping the sounds at bay.

“Let’s get you out of here, okay?” the redhead says softly. He shimmies out of his hoodie and places it on top of her shaking head. “You don’t have to say anything, we’ll just get you through the back exits, get you some fresh air--”

“ Oui, ma petite chérie, ” Yuuga adds, dabbing her cheeks with a paper napkin and glaring at the other tables, who begin to stare. “We’ll take care of you, do not worry.”

“Okay,” she hiccups stupidly.

They make it outside somehow, away from prying eyes. Ochako guesses and hopes that the faraway table doesn’t notice them and her and her stupid tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Eijirou drives her home, with Yuuga tagging along, sitting in careful silence.

In her tiny apartment (the one Shouto doesn’t even want to step into, ahhh it makes more sense now), she allows her friends to sit herself down on the floor, wrap a blanket or two around her, play her favorite songs. Yuuga fusses about her bare kitchenette and somehow comes out with a cup of hot cocoa, while Eijirou sends an SOS to Mina and Hanta to come after their shift, if they can.

They ask her to talk, in turn. About her and Doctoroki, if there were any problems, if there were any signs. Because, social media aside, come to think of it, her friends don’t know a thing about the two of them. “I mean, I see you guys eat together at work sometimes, but I… haven’t seen you two talk up close. Except that time in the locker,” Eijirou says as gently as he can.

She shakes her head. Keeping up appearances is hard enough to do for the crowds and Shouto’s family. “We haven’t been… talking a lot.”

They never did get back to talking about their IRL talk. They ask why, and the urge to tell her closest friends about the fake dating scheme wells in her chest like a dam about to break, but she stops herself on time. Still, she can’t give another reason other than being busy. Eijirou and Yuuga look at each other and sigh in unison.

“Whatever is going on, mon cher,” Yuuga says, after they carefully try to wheedle more useless details from her, “You two simply must talk. Yes?”

Ochako sniffles and says, “But… talking is hard.”

She’s afraid of admitting to Shouto that she feels hurt, even though by all accounts she doesn’t have the right to. Especially when Shouto did all this in the first place ‘so no-one gets hurt’.

Eijirou laughs and ruffles her hair, like the brat that she is. “Yeah. It is. But I don’t think you’ll feel any better just not talking about this right?”

She buries her face in her fluffy blankets and whines.

 *

  Todoroki Shouto (1756H): Good work today. The patient we operated on is recovering really quickly.

Todoroki Shouto (1758H): Are you on your way home?

Me (1805H): ya i am. In mina-chans car

Todoroki Shouto (1806H): Okay. Let me know when you’re safe at home.

Me (1810H): …

Todoroki Shouto (1812H): …?

Me (1814H): why

Todoroki Shouto (1820H): …

Todoroki Shouto (1821H): I’d like to know that you made it home without anyone causing you harm or threatening you.

Todoroki Shouto (1822H): I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Shizuoka.

Me (1825H): ah. ya that makes sense

Todoroki Shouto (1829H): Are you all right, Ochako?

Me (1830H): yeah i am

Todoroki Shouto (1831H): You sure?

Todoroki Shouto (1832H): Please be honest with me

Todoroki Shouto (1832H): Whatever is bothering you, I’d like to know. I’d like to help.

Me (1834H): Doctoroki

Me (1837H): Shouto, I mean

Me (1838H): When should we break up?

#todoocha #todochako #shouchako #peony pink and cherry blossom tea #cafe/hospital au #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #shindo yo #setsujirou #tokage setsuna #jirou kyouka #kirishima eijiro #aoyama yuuga #kodai yui #angst ahhh #sorry

[justselfloathingthings-blog]

Me Ranting About a Bad Magical Girl Meme

So on discord an acquiatance-friend shared a magical girl meme about how “SJWs” ruined MG anime for the “West” that got me so angry that I need to rant about it here. 

Their friend (that showed to them) sadly couldn’t find an original version so here’s one with some rapid-fire responses for reference

I think that really most of the appearance ones are good and dealt with though I need to personally say “lolfuckyou” for “sexy girls and guys”. 

Let’s look at the others?

mostly apolitical beyond same ethnicity

The points in the response are accurate but we can go much further. If having one, broadly speaking (setting aside outliers like Anthy who don’t count I guess) ethnicity is perceived as a political statement (and I don’t disagree it is one essentially), what are we supposed to make of the messages like “have compassion for people even if they’re different?” that when possible, people should always strive for non-aggressive solutions and try to talk things out, even if in the end an aggressive solution is sometimes required? 

If the inclusion of a single ethnicity is a political statement, what should be made of the constant reminders by magical girl anime that gay people exist (more on this later) and that they are people with their own struggles and should be treated just as fairly as everyone else? 

Or themes and messages like that people shouldn’t be judged for superficial differences that really don’t matter, and that people should always strive for forgiveness, even for people that they have distaste for?

What about Utena’s portrayal of an unjust system that essentially perpetuates itself through the lack of desire of people at the top to tear it down and allows for people like the Student Council to have dominion over the rest of the school? Or how Utena’s story very, very frequently is used to deconstruct common shoujo tropes and expose their sexist undertrappings? Hey, remember that time in Huggto that Masato told Emiru that she shouldn’t play the guitar because it wasn’t “for girls” and Lulu is portrayed as justly taking Masato a-fucking-part? Surely no political implications there!

What should be made of episodic points like Miki utilizing Utena’s own critique of the dueling system removing Anthy’s autonomy for his own selfish ends, to the point of repeating it basically word for word? Or how about that scene in Sailor Moon that is basically devoted to softly criticizing Japanese academic culture? 

I can’t believe I’ve gone this long without noting that the blending of femininity and the masculine, in saying that one can be “girly” and still have the ability to save the day and defeat the villain (very very often without any sort of male aid), something soundblasted at the climax of Huggto that “anyone can be a Precure” is ridiculously political at its core?

(psst the SJWs are coming from inside the house) 

P.S. I love how Star Twinkle Precure managed to arguably make this out of date even at the time of its creation. 

generally leaves Yuri to the fandom

lol okay here have a couple canonical manga pages

oh and here’s an actual movie screenshot

(This is roughly an encapsulation of the entire scene btw I’m really not cherry-picking with this one)

Things the Ace Memester is also conveniently forgetting

1. That time in the manga that Chibiusa and Hotaru’s relationship is directly paralleled by Usagi herself to her and Mamoru’s?

2. How Saki and Mai, and Itsuki and Tsubomi, and Setsuna and Love, and Kanade and Hibiki and Lulu and Emiru (excusing the two examples I already gave) are so super clearly supposed to be love interests that it’s borderline text? And on the male end you have the super obvious basically transparent subtext in the Sailor Moon R movie. You also have to deal with Seiya’s super clear interest in Usagi and Usagi’s interest in... basically everyone. 

3. How about the time Regina used the nearly explicitly romantic Japanese word for love in reference to Mana in Doki Doki Precure? Or that time in the manga Rikka explicitly imagined Makoto and Mana getting married? Or that other time in the anime where Rikka talked about how life would be actually genuinely meaningless if she didn’t have Mana in it? How that’s an actual thing she really says?

4. If i’m allowed to include adult-oriented MG anime, how about how Togo from Yuki Yuna is explicitly stated in the extended materials to have a crush on Yuna (as if the show isn’t obvious enough about it)? Or how Nanoha and Fate live together and adopt a kid? Or Homura and Madoka and the subtext Kyouko and Sayaka have going on? Or the canon lesbians in Magical Girl Raising Project that get killed off to show how gritty the show is, but certainly exist? I’e gone this long without even mentioning Utena and Anthy or Shiori and Juri. 

Like “generally” is doing so much heavy-lifting that the poor soul collapses due to the weights simply being far too heavy to be held up with any sort of intellectual honesty. 

“better art and animation”

If you only watch the super-streamlined and high-budget shows, maybe?[1] But like, I am old enough and have enough residual memory to recall how Crystal got lambasted in its first season for its low-grade animation quality, ignoring the often wonky animation in the original franchise.

Like, if you don’t see the poor animation in MG anime, it’s often because of all the short-cuts animators really clearly take to disguise it, typically pouring pretty much all their budget into the important scenes that people really do need to remember. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

“Original ideas and no parodies” 

1. Hey, remember how much inspiration Naoko got from the tokusatsu shows she loved for Sailor Moon? And how things like the team dynamics and color scheme of shows like Precure are so obviously cribbed from the team dynamic in Sailor Moon? 

2. Hey, remember how Futari wa (even though this one does die), Splash Star, Fresh, Suite, Doki Doki (arguably), Princess, and Huggto have eerily similar redemption arcs for one (or more in Splash Star’s case) of their villains? 

3. Hey, remember how basically every season of Precure has a “the Cures are going to break up!?!” episode?

4. Or how plot elements of Princess Precure (like the Haruka-Kanata dynamic) are really clearly inspired by Utena? 

5. Or do you want to talk about how Nanoha was pretty clearly inspired by Cardcaptor Sakura at points? Or how adult-oriented MG anime quite often cribbed from Madoka tonally, thematically, and even in terms of character/plot beats? (MG Raising Project is often the most blatant about this.) 

6. If we’re talking about “parody”, see above vis a vis Utena and shoujo tropes. 

Like oh my god there’s so many examples that I’ve forgotten some as I’ve tried to write this up.

In sum, can reactionaries who want to co-opt MG anime please get out of this fandom? They’re really not wanted. 

1. Though I recall all the nitpicking that Madoka’s animation got back in its time. 

#magical girls #reactionary meme #angry #rant #bad takes #raaawr

[astraea-writes]

To Kiss A Girl- Davey Jacobs x Reader

alright so i guess im just gonna post davey fics until ben fankhauser falls in love with me??

requested by anon, so sorry for the delay! these go alongside my college headcanons from the other day, and i most definitely am going to rewrite this in the future with better structuring, but i wanted to get this out asap!

please listen to "to Kiss a Girl" when you read bc itll make so much more sense i promise

as always my inbox is always open

warnings: drinking

Hey! Y/N! Get a pape from your favorite newsie?" Jack yelled from across the quad. You laughed and made your way towards him. winter break was over, and today was the first day of the last quarter of the school year. Your last class of the day had just gotten out, and you were already exhausted from the amount of work you knew you'd have before this year was out. "Katherine's still got you passing out the school newspaper for her?" you asked, taking the paper and sliding it into your bag. "My girl just made rising editor in chief for next year" he beamed, and you smiled at how in love with her he was. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts, however, when you felt an arm wrap around your waist and turned to see Davey. "Hey, study night at the library?" He asked and when you nodded he dropped his arm and blushed at the instinctive contact. It was a common occurrence for the two of you to spend countless days studying and talking while the rest of your gang was out getting into trouble somehow. Jack chuckled at the awkward exchange. "Well well, if it ain't the other half of the loveboids" he greeted Davey, winking and slugging him on the shoulder. You rolled your eyes. "Shouldn't you be off fawning over Katherine like a lost puppy somewhere?" you teased and Jack playfully shoved you. " ah come on, you two knows there's something goin on here! You twos have even kissed!" He accused, waving his hands around wildly, gesturing to the small space between you and your best friend. You couldn't help but look down and smile at the memory, but you quickly recovered as Davey went still. "It was New Years, Jack. And I seem to recall you getting us tipsy on champagne, and then pushing me into him as the ball dropped" "I elped a little, but you twos were the one who did it!" He protested. You smiled and shook your head. "I know there's no point to arguing with ya, even if I'm right, so I'm just gonna leave now" you laughed. Jack smirked at the glare Davey gave him and you pulled him away before he could get too annoyed. "Sorry i wasn't much help back there" he muttered once you were out of Jacks hearing range. "Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself" you laughed. The rest of the walk was full of conversation about how Davey finally got to see Les during winter break and your crazy family stories. The two of you instinctively made your way to your table, in the back of the library by the law books no one ever needed so no one would bother you. You hadn't even bothered to stop at your dorm and grab any textbooks, you knew that you and Davey would probably wind up talking so much that nothing would get done-it was rare for the two of you to have been apart for this long. "Why'd you want to study?" you asked as Davey pulled out his laptop. "Have you even been assigned anything yet?" "No" he admitted, "Im just stressed. You know how I took that music composition class last semester?" You nodded and he continued "well our final project was to write a full length song but our class was struggling so much that the professor gave us winter break to finish it. But now, I have to perform it in a week and it's no where near good enough" You laughed as he ranted. "Davey, you're an amazing writer. I'm sure it's amazing, even though you refuse to let me hear it." He shook his head. "There's no way you're hearing it" "at least play it for me then?" You countered, and knowing that you wouldn't stop until he did, Davey slowly got up and made his way towards the piano in the lounge of the library, where students were free to relax and play anything they wanted. He sat down and began to play the most beautiful melody you had ever heard. You stared at him as his hands moved all over the keys and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You thought back to what Jack had said, about New Years Eve.

You and the gang of boys Davey and Jack had gathered had decided to go home for Hanukkah and Christmas, but come back to school for a New Years Party to end all New Years Parties (according to Spot Conlon). You had showed up to a pretty little club to find the boys drinking like no tomorrow, save for Davey who was in the corner waiting for you. As the two of you spent the night in conversation, Jack got more antsy as the night went on, telling the both of you that tonight was the time to finally get together about every twenty minutes, and the two of you had rolled your eyes and laughed his drunken shpeals off each time. Two minutes to midnight he had pressed glasses of champagne and probably something else into your and Daveys hands, and pushed the two of you together. You fell into Davey and his hand went to the small of your back as your hand grabbed his shoulder for support. Taking a sip of champagne and setting the glasses down, the two of you maintained eye contact, still pressed against each other. You couldn't speak, mesmerized by his eyes, by the way he was looking at you like you were the only person in the room. As Jack screamed the countdown, you decided to screw it and quickly pressed your lips to his. It was only for a moment, a single kiss, but he kissed you back and you felt every firework and sparkle that had been promised to you by corny love songs and cliche movies. The Newsies yelled and cheered once the two of you pulled away, staring at each other like you were meeting for the first time. Once the boys finally dispersed to go and taunt Jack and Katherine, who were very publicly making out in the middle of the dance floor, you turned to go with them, but Davey grabbed your hand and pulled you back to his chest. Before you could ask what was wrong, he cupped his hands around your face and kissed you. The two of you stayed like that, kissing painfully slowly, lips moving together in perfect sync, knowing that once you pulled away this would all end. After several minutes you had to break the kiss, and when your eyes met there was absolutely no denying that you were in love with this boy and always had been.

But you hadn't done anything about it. Davey walked you to your dorm, made sure you got to your bed safely, and left. When you woke up the next morning, there was a glass of water and an aspirin on your desk and a text message on your phone from Davey, apologizing for leaving so soon but he had to catch his train back home, and apologizing for last night. You had stayed in bed, silent tears moving down your face, because the boy you loved was sorry he kissed you and there was nothing you could do about it. "Y/N?" Daveys voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and quickly wiped away a tear you hadn't realized was forming. "Sorry," you laughed softly. "Just, God, Davey, that was beautiful. So so beautiful" He blushed and thanked you, quickly walking back to your table. "So when do I get to hear the actual lyrics??" you asked slyly. "Never." He responded flatly. "Come onnnn Davey, Im your best friend" you pouted, making him laugh. "Its just, personal, okay?" he said defensively. "Mm hmm, okay. But there's nothing that you can't write amazingly, and nothing you can't sing because I have 100% heard you singing in the shower so there's no denying that Davey Jacobs. And if you don't want me to listen to it, then fine, but nothing is going to change the fact that it's probably already my most favorite song ever" you told him sincerely, and he blushed, still not used to your compliments after years of friendship.

But it really wasn't fine. Because you couldn't let it go.

"Okay just tell me what it's about" you begged, lying upside down on Jacks bed as Davey cleaned up his side of the room. "Nope" he smirked and you groaned in agony. "Davey come on there's nothing I don't know about you" "You don't know what I'm gonna sing" he laughed and you threw one of Jacks pillows at his head. "Davey come on I'm literally dying. Is it about me? About Jack? About your hidden love for girly Starbucks drinks?" you jokingly guessed, standing in line at your local Starbucks. Davey recited both of your orders and then turned back to glare at you. "Y/N I'm seriously not telling you. It's personal and stupid and once I get my grade I'm never speaking of it again, okay?" he sighed as the two of you walked to class. "That makes me incredibly sad because I know everything you do is ridiculously amazing" you smiled, and he only rolled his eyes.

After a week of begging and unsuccessfully bribing, Davey's performance day was here and you still weren't even told where it would be. That was, until Jack came pounding on your door. "Y/N! So a friend of Katherine's is in Daveys music class and a friend of hers is the stage manager for the theatre they're using and if we go right now then we can get there in time to sneak in!" he yelled, and you had barely grabbed your coat before you were out the door. Jack was the only person as impatient as you, and Daveys secrecy had been driving him crazy as well. The two of you made it to the school theater in record time, sneaking in to the back entrance that had been left open for you. You two made your way to the back of the house, and ducked into the last row of seats as Daveys name was called. He shyly walked up to the piano, and began to play the melody you had heard just the week before. His face slowly relaxed as he calmed his nerves, and hesitantly he began to sing. You were immediately stunned. His voice was pure and perfect, echoing off the walls. And then he got to the chorus. You felt Jacks eyes land on you, but you couldn't look away from Davey. Was he really singing about you? Could he really have felt the same way? You barely blinked, smiling wider than you thought possible, tears pooling in your eyes. And right before the final chorus, Davey turned to look out into the crowd and your eyes met. With a mix of both fear and confidence that only he could have, he belted out the final notes, and as he finished the song, you ran up to the bottom of the stage as the professors and the rest of the class burst into applause, Jack cheering the loudest. Davey made his way down to you from the stage, and all of his embarrassment melted away as he saw the look in your eyes. He ran up to you and you didn't hesitate to grab his collar and pull him into you, kissing him like you had been waiting to for so long. His hands wrapped around your waist and he deepened the kiss, the applause growing even stronger. There was no countdown or champagne, but you knew this was a new beginning for the both of you.

#davey jacobs #davey jacobs x reader #davey x reader #newsies fic #newsies x reader #newsies fanfiction #newsies #ben fankhauser #jeremy jordan #jack kelly #katherine plumber

[ironjohnred]

Closure

h/t @trp gurus 

Closure is usually just her trying to find a way to pin the failure of the relationship on you. Any woman that truly wants you, will not make things difficult. Life's too short to want to be with someone that's unsure about you.

here have been many times in my life where a woman contacted me after a break-up for "closure", and I responded with anger, or sadness, or explanation, or trying to win her back.

She's only ever there for herself. To deflect the blame for the break-up and failure of the relationship off of herself, and onto you. She doesn't give a shit about you anymore; if she did, she would still be fucking you.

The only good response is no response. Anything else validates her. Anything else shows that you're still invested.

Walk the fuck away.

Here is the thing. When a girl decides to break it off with you, there is a 99.9% chance that she has made up her mind for good and nothing will change her mind. She has already desexualized you and moved on. She is no longer attracted. No force in the world will get her back with you. You can go lift, gain 50 pounds of pure muscle and look like a greek god giga chad and she still won't see you "that way". Period.

The problem is, most of you faggots who read this will think you are apart of that 0.1% in which she does change her mind because you are stricken with oneitis. You aren't going to listen to me and you won't accept the fact you have a better chance of winning the lottery. But if you do want to reason with her, argue with her, negotiate with her, try to win her back after she breaks it off, give it at least 72 hours until you say ANYTHING to her. Once she tells you its over in some form or fashion, go silent. At the very most, say "OK" and act like you have moved on as well. Then, after 72 hours have passed, and you want to go for that slim chance of being able to reason your way back in, go ahead, but just realize you have astronomical odds.

The 72 hour rule isn't so much in that it will raise your odds, its that when a girl breaks it off with you, she wants to see you melt down. She wants to see you be emotionally affected and disraught. That way she gets her closure, seeing you act a total fool, and then she can tell herself "See? I made the right choice. Look at this pathetic weak whiny bitch".

By going dead silent after she breaks it off, she doesn't get that closure and satisfaction. It will drive her nuts. By going silent it makes you look like you gave no fucks and put no value on her. This will drive her mad and I guarantee she will try to keep reaching out to you to get that closure. That's why silence is the best weapon here, not negotiating and reasoning. If you do choose to engage with her if she reaches back out to you after you go silent on her, be very stoic. Act like you aren't affected at all and she poses no value for you. Then you have leverage.

Again I repeat - the 72 hour rule IS NOT A POWER PLAY TO TRY AND WIN HER BACK. Its there to not give her the satisfaction of closure.

In a relationship context, it's usually a manifestation of seller's remorse. They initiated a breakup, or misbehaved badly enough to earn being broken up with. Now they want to stir the pot as it goes cold. As above, they're trying to collect more value from you in their own interest, not yours. Don't do it! Nothing good comes from these discussions.

Be decisive about moving on with your own life. Be clear but concise about why the relationship is ending, then let her go work through her own "closure."

All of this is presuming you didn't ghost the person unprovoked. In that case, it can mess with a person, woman more so than man, and it legitimately does leave the person hanging and in need of emotional closure. Have the balls to break up decisively, that's all the closure work you "owe" someone you're breaking up with.

As a man, you don’t need closure.

A girl either wants to fuck you or she doesn’t.  A long, emotional [or attempted logical] conversation will not change this fact.

Girls, however, need to put a man they are dumping into a desexualized box and wrap a pretty bow of closure around it.  By participating in the closure process you are helping her tie the bow around your desexualized fate.

If a girl breaks up with you: Do not talk about your feelings Do not talk about her feelings Do not argue with her reasons

Just accept it and grieve on your own time.

This is hard.

Why?

Because a woman will never give her ACTUAL reasons for breaking up with you.  She will only give you society-approved bullshit that makes her look innocent. [Or, she just doesn’t understand her own emotional reasoning and looks to socially approved messages to help her out of the mess]

She will never say “you didn’t fuck me good enough” or “you’re too nice and not exciting” or “no other girl I know wants to fuck you so something must be wrong with you”.

She will say “I’m really busy with school and work and don’t have time for a relationship now” or “you’re great but I”m not ready for anything serious” or “I care about you as a friend”.

Sometimes the reasons she give will be SO false, such obvious flowery bullshit, that you will feel a deep burning need to set her straight, to correct her misunderstanding.

Don’t.

You can’t logic a woman.

You can say “okay”, walk away with a smirk and never contact her again. [The smirk is important because you have options, right?]

Being robbed of emotionally dripping closure, she’ll always feel a little incomplete. Why didn’t he fight harder for me? Did I really not get to his emotions? Am I not as desirable to him as I thought? Is he more desirable than I thought?

Girls have egos.  They WANT to know you’re emotional about her breaking up with you.  It validates her.  So don’t do it. [This sounds strong but it’s essentially true]

You want a girl dumping you to question her reasons, not verify them.

When a girl dumps you, you want to be able to look back on how you handled it with pride.

When you give a girl closure, you give her your pride. 

She isn't feeling robbed of closure. She is feeling robbed of validation. That is the reason behind almost everything you talked about here. She wants to feel important. Every time she leaves you, you come crawling after her and give her that validation that she is somehow the most important thing in your life.

All of a sudden she wants to get that rush of power over you again and feel like she's being worshipped so she brings up the break up shit again. You respond with "Meh" and suddenly the validation isn't there. She goes nuts. Where is her rush. That is why she is pissed that you aren't fighting for her. That is her ultimate validating pick me up and you denied it to her.

The rest of everything she said in that is a barrage of power struggles and blaming/guilt trips. All of these things are shit tests to see who you are as well.

She asks me if there is ANYTHING ELSE I want to say

She is begging for validation here. She wants to know that she is important to you and does this by hurting you every time.

I get 4 messages with her telling me that I'm scared and don't say what I want to say

Shaming tactic by calling you afraid. Don't give into that.

Just cause we over I still want you to be my friend I don't care if you don't want I want

Yeah that sounds like a great friendship. She doesn't care what you want. It only matters what she wants. That sounds like it was the framework for your whole relationship. It is crucial that you deny her your friendship. She is a leech and is using you for everything that you offer and doesn't care how you feel about it. Don't hang out with her or call her when you want to chat with someone. It will only further inflate her fucked up head. If she pushes it make her explain what you get out of being her friend and what she has every done for you in that capacity. Her answers will suck.

A woman will not leave a man she considers of higher SMV than her. Every other time, your grovelling proved that you were low value, and her subconcious, "eww a chump, gross" programming kicked in. This time, you left while you were still high value. She's pusthumously shit-testing you to prove that you're not as high value as you seem in this moment, at which point she'd drop you with extreme prejudice again

You are demonstrating you have the "ability to walk away" which is the opposite of needy.

When a man has this attitude he is demonstrating higher value which is making her question the attitude she had of you. That it turns makes her worried that your value is going up compared to her, so all these text are searching for validation. You matter more right now than you did the day before she broke up with you.

Give it a few more breakups. Going to be forced to recognize that they all respond the same way, starting to manipulate you any way she can. Using emotions, guilt, closure, "thought you'd fight for me", using her friends and ridiculous accusations that you are emotionally abusive, or "never loved her" (that's my favorite, personally, for the pure female arrogance of it - as if loving her was the only thing that basically happened in the relationship. The center of all world events, everybody loving her. Bitch, what about loving me?).

The sad truth of it is, she isn't doing any of that to get you back, she's furious because you're not on your knees begging. It's like a neg, you didn't pay dues to her girly ego by self-destructing the moment she said "goodbye, amigo" and wiggled her pretty ass at you on the way out. You were supposed to fall apart and she was supposed to turn up her nose at the wreckage, fully satisfied that she made the right choice by ditching a loser. Damn right you robbed her, now she doesn't know what's going on, it's like... you don't even care. Like she isn't even the center of the universe. That hurts. How dare you.

Sounds like you did most things by the book, good for you. All TRP advice about breakup isn't dealing with emotions, feeeeeeelings or closure. It's just pragmatic. How do you minimize damage going forward, how do you recover as quickly as possible, how do you sidestep her manipulations. Stick to it despite the unavoidable shitty feelings and you'll hit the ground running like a champ.

[gingervsblondie]

Blondie Takes a Vacation (1939)

1:59 AM, Sunday, 22 September 2019

ALRIGHT LET’S GO BLONDIE 3

2:04

Dagwood said Blondie’s new “vacation hat,” which looks like a dropped ice cream cone on a wicker basket, “scared him,” and now she’s run off crying.

That is currently the conflict in Blondie Takes a Vacation.

That’s where we’re at.

Just thought you should know.

2:11

“Now listen: the creator made us with two ends. One on which to sit, and the other with which to think. Our success depends on which one we use the most. Heads, we win, tails, we lose.” -An EXTREMELY SMALL CHILD.

Apparently that’s taken from Ann Landers? Which apparently isn’t a real person but a pen name for a column. I’unno. Anyway I’m getting big time Peanuts vibes from the small kids saying stuff like this. I think it’s somehow more charming in animation though, since you can’t see the kids visibly struggling with the lines. 

2:16

There’s a regular bit where Dagwood runs out the door and runs into the mailman, sending all his letters flying in the air. It’s even in the intro. (Yeah, these movies all share an intro sequence. It’s basically a theatrical TV sitcom.)

I guess this is a common thing for comic strips, because Peanuts had Lucy pulling the football away, and Calvin and Hobbes had Hobbes pouncing on Calvin as he came in the front door. In Peanuts, it made for wonderful dialogue as Lucy played her mind games and somehow managed to keep convincing Charlie Brown that this was the time he’d kick the football. In Calvin and Hobbes, it allowed for visually dynamic and extreme art, some of the most purely cartoonish in the strip.

In the Blondie film series, the mailman gets run into a lot.

2:24

There was just a scene where the Bumsteads are on a train. Daisy starts barking. When people look over, Dagwood starts barking, I guess to cover for Daisy? It escalates until Dagwood, Blondie and Alexander are all barking. And I can’t help but feel like if this was in something else it would be a very cute scene. I can imagine a TV family with real chemistry pulling it off, like the Brockmans from Outnumbered or the Durrells from… well, The Durrells.

Ahh, the train doesn’t allow dogs. That’s why they were covering for her. See that could’ve worked if they’d set it up better.

2:33

Blondie and Dagwood just started reminiscing about the night when Alexander was born, and Dagwood got soaking wet waiting outside the hospital as it rained, and the night they met, when Dagwood teased Blondie about her hat.

I didn’t think I’d be getting that kind of backstory. It’s neat. I like it. If I’m watching all of these, I’d like these characters to feel a bit more real than the genre and demographic or whatever requires them to be.

2:37

Now they’re talking about when they’re going to get old. The fact that this is from 1939 struck me. They do feel like they could be grandparents.

Blondie: “And when Baby Dumpling grows up… He will grow up, you know. And get married. And poor Daisy…”

Dagwood: “Daisy won’t get married!”

2:41

A fellow passenger just delivered this monologue to Blondie and Dagwood, after borrowing matches from Dagwood to light a cigarette:

“Do you realize that fire is man’s best friend? Why, we couldn’t exist without fire. It cooks our meals, it heats our houses… It turns the wheels of industry. When you have anything that has to be destroyed, what do you do with it? Burn it! Why, where would civilization be without fire? For that matter… Where would the firemen be?”

...That's some shit a fire-themed Batman villain would say and I love it.

This is the first time I’ve really felt Dick Flournoy reaching above the constraints of writing a Blondie movie, aspiring to something higher. I’m happy for him. He’s gone from wallowing in misery, writing subliminal cries for help into family comedies, to channelling his frustration into making the best of what he has to work with.

I’m also liking that this movie has some breathing room. There’s been quite a stretch so far of no major misunderstandings driving conflict, just Blondie and Dagwood chilling on a train, talking. And it’s nice. I’m into it.

Oh boy. I just scrolled through to see if the rest of the movie would be equally laid back, and saw a shot of a large fire.

2:51

Every time there’s a scene where Blondie and Dagwood look on, contented, as Alexander sleeps and violin plays, it makes me feel nice.

2:54

The guy who delivered the fire speech, Jonathan N. Gillis (played by Donald Meek) just watched a hotel receptionist throw out the Bumsteads, and told him they were his friends and to burn his reservation. To burn it. That’s some spicy dialogue callback.

3:00

Innkeeper: “Here’s the bath. Both spigots are marked cold, but the one on the right is hot… if you let it run long enough.”

Dagwood: “Well the spigots in our bathroom are like that too, only the cold comes out of the hot. Oh, we’ll get used to it.”

Somehow this exchange is so mundane that I’m super in love with it. Again, makes this feels realistic, in contrast with the way Alexander talks and the dog getting his ears pulled up with strings when he’s surprised and Dagwood mugging for the camera with his double-takes and all the cartoony slapstick. It’s really endearing to me.

I’m liking this one a lot. Gonna call it a night now and finish it in the morning, but this is shaping up to be my favourite so far. Maybe in the morning I’ll realize I stayed up too late and started to go crazy.

3:28

Large fire! There's a large fire at the end of the movie because Gillis is obsessed with fire! Maybe?

6:23 PM (next day)

K let’s keep it going.

6:26

By the way, the intro theme was stuck in my head earlier today. “Pretty face funny hat, that’s what my Blondie is.” “Loveable feet both flat, that’s what my Dagwood is.”

6:28

Yep, Gillis is fire-obsessed. Went into the Bumsteads’ room and lit the fireplace, looking like a little kid.

6:31

Dagwood’s convinced the hotel is haunted.

I’m down.

(Note from the future: They didn’t go all Blondie vs. Evil Dead with it, unfortunately.)

6:42

Gillis’s nephew has come looking for him, trying to keep him out of trouble and taking away his matches, which he had several boxes of in in pockets.

Pyromaniac uncle is a blessing.

7:07

Plot twist! It wasn’t the pyromaniac uncle who lit the hotel on fire! It was the hotel owner (who later blames it on Dagwood.)

7:12

Now Gillis, Alexander and Daisy are stuck in the burning hotel.

Maybe Mighty Joe Young can save them.

7:14

Okay the model fire is ridiculously tall now.

If that bit of the building is like 20 feet tall, that’s a 100 foot tall fire. Can house-fires get that tall?

7:19

Bum. Bum. Bum. Another one bites the dust.

Blondie Takes a Vacation is definitely my favourite so far. Lost interest towards the end there, when there was a bunch of antics involving skunks in air vents, but little moments of genuinely good writing caught me by surprise.

My rating: One Dagwood Sandwich containing Nutella, multi-coloured marshmallows and an entire puffed rice cake.

Hey speaking of which, no sandwiches in this one! I want my money back.

^ FALSE ADVERTISING ^

Next up is Blondie Brings Up Baby.

Oh dear.

Look forward to more jokes involving Dagwood doing feminine things and how humiliating that is, I guess. Woooo.

8:03

Just glanced at the Wikipedia for Blondie Brings Up Baby. I've been checking the cast every time to see if anybody I know is going to show up as a guest star. And I noticed that Willie Best, the actor who played the dim-witted black hotel worker in Blondie 1, is reprising his role.

Oh boy. Sexism and racism.

Maybe not though. Maybe it’ll prove me wrong. Maybe Dagwood being a responsible parent won’t make him a sissy and a girly girl and isn’t it funny that he’s doing what a mommy does. And maybe Willie Best will play a more respectable and humanized character this time, or maybe there’ll be other black characters in the cast that are sensitively portrayed, so as to balance it out.

Maybe.

#gingervsblondie

[gopherchuck5]

My Struggles with Self-worth

This is going to be a bit of a serious blog post today, just as a heads-up.

I want to let people know about the internal struggles I've had going on with me since I was a child. I want to explain the highs, the lows, the fears, the conflicts, and everything in-between. Yes, I know that this blog is primarily dedicated to updates and behind-the-scenes info for my projects, and I intend to keep it that way. My struggles with self-worth and all that is wrapped up in that package have a direct influence on the media that I create.

So let's start at the beginning with the most long-running issue that I've let plague me since grade school. I'm the third oldest in a family of 6 children (plus two step siblings in later years), and the oldest male of them all. With things as they were, my younger brothers practically idolized me. I was the male to look up to in our single mother household, and I became the standard of what they sought to be like as they grew older. I did my best to be strong, proper, independant, and always chivalrous. There was just one major problem: I never saw myself as "manly". I was always much more interested in feminine things, whether it be toys, TV shows, or anything else. (As an aside: I couldn't tell you whether this had anything to do with me growing up with two older sisters. I had a head injury at the age of 10, and only remember key events and whatever was recorded via home video. By this age, I didn't play much with my older sisters, but usually just with my brothers and my friends from school and the neighborhood.)

So as time went on and I became aware of this feminine side of me, I would actively cover it up with pretending to be interested in the more male-oriented things that my friends liked. Fifth grade me had no idea what a Beyblade was, or was able to tell the difference between any of the characters in Dragon Ball Z, but I would play as my assigned character out at recess before heading home and watching the Powerpuff Girls. I would write in major female characters into my comics that I wrote, but always had them surrounded by males, so that I could excuse her presence to my friends when it would come up.

By middle school, there wasn't much I could do to hide this part of me. Times were different back then, and picking on the girly-boy was always on everyone's to-do list. My ears were pierced, my hair was long, I sang in the school choir, and I hung out with my girl friends more often than the guys. Things turned especially sour when many of the guys that I called my friends one day all turned on me, calling me names and generally bullying me whenever they had the chance. Our friend group was split down the middle, with some standing up for me, and the others ridiculing me. The fact that these were people that I had called friends just days previously hurt me down to the core. I turned to my school counselor who suggested that I tried to like the things that they liked (aka the "guy" stuff) in order to become their friends again. All around me, all that I heard was one common theme of "you aren't supposed to be like this". It wore me down until I was nothing. I cursed God for making me wrong. And one day in 7th grade, I took a knife from the kitchen and snuck it to school in my cargo jeans.

Needless to say, I'm still here. This doesn't mean that I got over this issue. Time moved on, and in 2017, I finally accepted that as part of who I am after over a decade. The problem is, these types of issues don't go away, they simply change shape. Now that I have a duty to provide for a family, I've quickly found that in the American midwest (the do it yourself, manual labor capitol), I'm just not cut out to be like everyone else. Thanks in part to my super high metabolism leaving me scrawny and weak no matter what I do, and in part to my useless right shoulder after an incident in high school, I'm just not physically cut out to do much. I've been unemployed for months on end multiple times throughout my adult life, which could have been remedied quickly if I was able to do simple manual labor.

When living in the midwest and possessing a list of skills that are primarily creative, out of the box, and self-driven, there's just not any need for someone like me around here. Where has my degree in animation gotten me? Food service, retail, and revising paperwork. IT work is expected of me no matter where I end up, despite my active efforts to never have that title near me. I don't know anything about how computers function, and yet this is something thrust upon me. So this is where I am now, asking why I was given such a great skill set that is useless where I am?

The second struggle I have feeding into my miniscule self-worth is my relationships with friends. There's a reason that I love to write about characters and their relationships with others; it's nice to imagine what it would be like. In college, I gained a small handful of friends in the form of two of my classmates. Since then, both of which have moved to different states. My best friend in high school, basically ignores me whenever I attempt to talk or meet up with him. In the odd event that we do run into each other, things are always great, and I'd love to have it happen more often, but if I can't get any response ever, then how can I make that happen? Lastly, I gained a good friend at a past job of mine, but the differences in interests, background, maturity, ideals, and now location, has left the entire relationship strained extremely thin. My only solace happens once a year, for a short while, I get to reunite with a group of people with whom I get along really well with and we are all genuinely interested in each others' lives. Connecting online is out of the question when only one or two of them use social media, and it's very limited use, at that. A year or so ago, I actually had found a friend. He was a good influence, had a wife and daughter right around the ages of my wife and son, we all got along really well, and they lived nearby. Things were finally looking up for me; I had that friend I was looking for for so long. But life intervened, and they soon found themselves moving back south after being here for only a few months.

The problem isn't that I'm an unlikable guy. In every major job I've had where I've worked with people around my age, I've been easily regarded as a fun and relatable co-worker, someone to depend on, and a friend to call on when clocked out. The problem is, when you're a 21-year old assistant manager to a bunch of high school girls, you can't exactly hang out with them or get too close without people getting the wrong idea. Years pass, and the appropriate timeline to reconnect fades quickly.

Social media plays a large part in how I view myself, as well, and it really ties into the "friends" aspect of this all. It all plays into who I am, and that is, a content creator. Over the years, I've done everything from animation to short stories, from a written novel to a visual novel. That's who I am and that's what I do. My greatest desire is to make stories that can touch people around the world. Yet as much as I can tell all of my Facebook friends about how hard I've been working on my visual novel, or how proud I am of an animated short I just finished, it goes completely unnoticed. My wife is typically the only person nice enough to leave a "like" on anything I post. Is it just a matter of people not seeing my posts thanks to how the site operates? Of course not. The moment I post a picture of my kids, there's 14 likes and 6 comments. It's become such a frustration to me, that posting anything to that site makes me think of it more as a social experiment on what I could possibly post that would garner any sort of interest from the people I call friends.

In a bit of a side statement to that, the creative portions of the internet have been incredibly toxic to my self-worth. I joined Discord with the exclusive reasoning of finding "good vibes only", positive places to post and share artwork and chat. Of the three channels that I found, one of them actually voted to remove me on the grounds that I was a straight white male, and didn't need any more attention. Another channel became too hard to visit, as all of my artwork was completely ignored, which is generally what I'm used to, but other artists' pieces that were just... not very good... were talked about and praised for twenty minutes. It was painful to watch the notifications come in over and over until I posted something and they came to a grinding halt. Lastly, the real killer for me was when I was graciously invited to join a channel specifically for VN creators in order to try to drum up some more interest in my project. What ended up happening was a three-hour attack including people telling me that "no one would ever read this", "the artwork looks like s**t", "stop wasting your time", and my favorite, "if you want to get a single reader when it looks like this, you'll need to try to sell it as a hentai". The platform became such a reminder of my own insecurities, that I haven't been able to even launch the app without being reminded of the heartache it caused me.

Combine everything I've talked about, from my physical and mental being, to my lack of meaningful friendships, to the negative influence that the creative world has had on me, and I think you'll come to understand a bit more about who I am, and why I work the way I do. The past week has been hard on me, with these feelings weighing down especially hard on me and putting me into a depression yet again. I haven't worked on Melatia for maybe two weeks now, and the guilt of not progressing with it makes me feel even worse. I can sit and stare at my computer for hours, but it has always ended up with half-hearted artwork that I need to remake later on for quality reasons. It's a battle. It's a battle that I'd love to be able to win someday, but as for now, please bear with me as I fight through this all.​

#self worth #serious #mental health #update

[carriejagerbaird]

softie, silky, swan, 24, 94, 90, pretty in pink, dead poet’s society, the goonies, the karate kid

softie; talk about your sexualityI’m bisexual I would say as I fancy both genders and have dated both, but in all honesty I have mostly have dated guys. I find girls attractive physically in terms of appearance but in terms of doing things during sex etc I much prefer guys – I just get more satisfaction out of it. Also, in terms of dating I find girls difficult – even in friendship I have very rarely got on with girls and have very few female friends, I find the drama and stuff related to female associations extremely unappealing and am not a ‘girly girl’ so unless they are on the same wavelength have very little in common – obviously this is not a general rule but for me I have always found male friendships much easier to maintain as they are more upfront and there is less bullshit. I have in the past only had serious bisexual relationships with a few girls, mostly casual. So make of that what you will I guesssilky; what’s your biggest dream?Short term for me to just continue a relationship and job and be happy; this sounds incredibly simple but is something I have always struggled to do for various reasons both circumstantial/health and just my personality type in general. Long term I would say travel and see other countries but honestly I am not sure – I have always been a drifter in terms of my personality and lifestyle and have a hard time deciding what I want. Maybe that is my answer – finally know what I want haha swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.‘Bibamus, moriendum est.’ Seneca‘Choose a life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers... Choose DSY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away in the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself, choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting’24. Baths or showers?Showers – I dislike bathing in my own dirt 90. What makes you angry?Haha many things, someone asks me this every single time I swear PeopleLack of controlSomeone going through your cellphone or belongingsPeople touching my hair or feet Minimum wage jobs which barely allow you to survive (my experience is obviously only from Britain) Wifi not working Not having my morning routine and tea and cigarettes Not being allowed to do what I want (within reason, I compromise, but I don’t tell people how to live their lives so neither should they tell me) Sinus problems People judging the homeless Lack of privacy Many more that’s just a few come to mind at the minute 94. What are you strengths?Passion PerseveranceGenerosity (to those who matter) Charismatic Creative Strengths and weaknesses is generally subjective in different situations and according to different perspectives obviously pretty in pink: what’s your signature ‘look’?I honestly just throw stuff together – if I like it I buy it However, I own a lot of leggings/stockingsKillstar and AdidasLayered and ripped jeans Check shirts Basketball vests and long T-shirt’s Mesh jumpers and long knits Easiest to look through my pictures really to be honest dead poet’s society: the last time you made a decision that everyone around you told you not to make, how did it work out?Well pretty much everybody told me not to date the guy I’m now married to, or get married. A lot of my Western friends gave me a lot of hate because they don’t understand we love each other (it is not about the visa, I have a job coming up). I can see why they would think that – I guess it is soon and we do argue, but I have also spent every day talking to him or with him for nearly a year now and considering when we first met we didn’t even speak the same language I think that’s pretty impressive, so they can fuck off to be honest. Hell people told me not to come to China at all – but I always do whatever the fuck I want. Told me not to because of health issues. However I am not a fan of letting things hold me back. I would rather live life without regrets than die 90 years old in a nursing home completely bored because you never lived for opportunities. Regardless of how my decisions turn out, they are mine to experience and make. the goonies: what was the last thing to make you laugh?Him riding a children’s bicycle the other dayHell me riding a children’s bicycle the other day I’m not sure who looked more ridiculous(Don’t even ask, it was entertaining at the time) the karate kid: when did you last have to work really hard to achieve something you’re proud of?To be honest I am proud of a lot of things – I am proud of living on my own in England and working for the most part despite health issues (I loved working for Williams formula one even though the wage was terrible). I am proud of coming to China, and even though I haven’t had the most continuous work history due to actually having a life and relationship here as well, I am proud of being given the opportunity to experience life beyond the typical expat experience here. Most people just live a similar life to Britain, make their money and go home – I am proud of getting the kindergarten job starting next year even though it is a lower salary – I think I will really enjoy it and the director is lovelyI am also proud of my dissertation when I was at university – I did it all on my own as I wanted it to be my own work without supervision, (stubborn) and was one mark off a 2:1. I think everything in life that is worth achieving, however small, has to be worked for! Thanks for all the questions I hope that’s all the right answers; I can’t access tumblr on my laptop at the minute so I’m having to use my phone!Peace