prompt table { 2016 } 100 situations

[iluvroadrunner6]

Because I intend to finish this table one way or the other - please feel free to claim prompts from the list below. Anything with a link or a strikethrough is off limits, but otherwise, comment below and I will mark your prompts as claimed!

001.	Tired	002.	Back Alley	003.	Sunrise	004.	Late	005.	Son
006.	Hot	007.	Friend	008.	Floor	009.	Cheat	010.	Think
011.	Disgust	012.	Shelter	013.	Borrow	014.	Chair	015.	Alter
016.	Peace	017.	Beach	018.	True	019.	Crazy	020.	Love
021.	New	022.	Beggar	023.	False	024.	Happy	025.	Cancer
026.	Pickpocket	027.	Reverse	028.	Deliver	029.	Arrival	030.	Fall
031.	Knife	032.	Torn	033.	Danger	034.	Neutral	035.	Mate
036.	Fly	037.	Loud	038.	Touch	039.	Seek	040.	Argue
041.	Work	042.	Sink	043.	Nut	044.	Stuck	045.	Animal
046.	Pray	047.	Kill	048.	Light	049.	Cold	050.	Affair
051.	Restaurant	052.	Movie	053.	Wait	054.	Patient	055.	Crime
056.	Choke	057.	Fever	058.	Summer	059.	Eat	060.	Thirst
061.	Chance	062.	Appear	063.	Whisper	064.	Day	065.	Scream
066.	Fail	067.	Confused	068.	Smile	069.	Come	070.	Alone
071.	Fast	072.	Slow	073.	Return	074.	Fire	075.	Positive
076.	Baby	077.	Upset	078.	Kitchen	079.	Winter	080.	Ignorant
081.	Fool	082.	Afraid	083.	Prison	084.	Sex	085.	Hate
086.	Alarm	087.	Genius	088.	Negative	089.	Flood	090.	Bomb
091.	Hospital	092.	Trap	093.	Celebrate	094.	Old	095.	Disappear
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Prompts Written: 100/100
Total Word Count: 124,261 words

Fill Plurk | Fill Plurk 2

Comments

[grumpypuppy]

Bomb - NY!Wolves verse
Seek - Regency Liam & Malia
Genius - Spamalot Lydia & Parrish
Son - Cora & Ben

[signalized]

Sink - Bruce and Jessica
Celebrate - Cora and Tyler
Alarm - Freya and Rebekah

[energybar]

Floor - Elena/Max Guevara
Love - Chloe/Jo Harvelle
Peace - Penny/Val
Happy - Lana/Laurel or some other crossover Laurel pairing I don't care

please give me all the happy gay things

[trigeminalheadache]

Confused - Snowbarry
Afraid - Caitlin/Jay (shhh I'm trashy)

[ohstarryeyed]

Cassie and Cassie - Tired.
Teleios!Scarlett and Paz - Fire.

won't you stop and remember me ~ the flash ~ 553 words

[iluvroadrunner6]

Caitlin remembers this kind give and take built in fear.

Her mother rules her home life with an iron fist built of cruel words. While she would never physically strike Caitlin for any reason, her words do the job well enough. Caitlin copes by exceeding expectations, making sure her appearance was always perfect, her speech impeccable, soft spoken and non-confrontational – it becomes a situation she knows all too well how to survive.

If Caitlin’s cold, she learns it from her mother, and she knows it. She breaks away after she gets the job at STAR Labs, meets Ronnie, builds a life that wasn’t about constantly raising the bar and exceeding what was expected of her. She had thought, before Jay (Hunter, it’s Hunter now), before Zoom, that she didn’t have to cow to anyone’s expectations anymore. Unfortunately, however, the moment she sets foot in Zoom’s prison, the same coping mechanisms come into play again.

It’s a very delicate balance, this dance between the two of them. Caitlin refuses to cower, to be fearful, to make him think he’s any more superior to her than he already is, but she also doesn’t confront him, not in the way she should. Cisco would mouth off to him, up until the point it gets him in trouble. Barry would try to reason with him or fight him – she isn’t entirely sure which, though … Barry doesn’t really have his speed anymore, does he?

“You should eat.” His voice is demanding, insistent, and she eats because she has to, in order to survive, and she doesn’t want to make him angry.

“You can’t keep me here forever,” she reminds him, and he doesn’t seem all that convinced. Even if what she says is the truth, he’s too deluded by his own power to see otherwise.

Zoom thinks that she will come to love him, and she lets him believe it. Zoom thinks that with time, her feelings will return, and she lets him believe that too. What he doesn’t know is that her feelings for him, for Jay, never really went away. She knows enough about emotions to know that they don’t go away that easily, but instead of making her feel warm and hopeful, they’ve twisted in on themselves like daggers jabbing at her insides. It isn’t just attraction anymore, now there also comes shame and guilt for not seeing what she was supposed to see in the first place.

“You’ll love me again,” he says as he forces the tray of food at her, expecting her to eat and implying all of the consequences that come if she doesn’t do as he says. “You’ll see that I’m still the same. What we had was real.”

It isn’t that she disbelieves him. She knows that this is real – it wouldn’t hurt this much if it wasn’t – but she needs to believe that she is stronger than he believes her to be. She needs to hope that she’ll find a way to get out of this.

She can’t be afraid anymore. Or maybe she simply needs to be brave. The one thing she does know, however, is that the status quo isn’t going to work for her this time around.

This time, she has to do more than just dodge the blows – she has to fight them.

[trigeminalheadache]

Oh my god, this is perfect! I love this so much.

[iluvroadrunner6]

Yay! I'm glad you liked it!

i don't need to fight to prove i'm right ~ new york wolves ~ 937 words

[flack]

“This really isn’t what I had in mind for tonight.”

“You and me both.”

Flack’s tone is apologetic, speaking the apology without actually saying it, but the crowds of policemen and civilians trying to be corralled around them mostly speaks for itself. The situation that they’re in now isn’t really Flack’s fault, exactly. He couldn’t have known that the day that he managed to get himself and Derek fairly decent seats to the Knicks game as a high school graduation present is also the day that a bomb scare would be called in to Madison Square Garden, but apparently that’s the curse of being an NYPD cop. You go where the action happens, and on the off chance you decide against it, the action can always come to you.

Flack manages to get himself positioned at the barricade closest to Derek, the teenage boy letting his eyes wander over the scene as crowds of police officers try to keep the people back while they investigate the buildings.

“At least there are no casualties this time,” he murmurs, eyes glancing over the crowd, then back to the Homeland Security agents that are handling the scene, and then back to Derek again. “Last time Messer and I went to a ball game someone dropped dead at center court.”

“Seriously?” Derek’s eyebrows go up curiously. “Did he have a heart attack or something?”

“Nope. Poisoned.” Derek’s eyebrows shoot up even higher and Flack smirks. “One of the cheerleaders had it in for him. Rigged the halftime contest so that she could get close to him and used her lipstick to poison him when she gave him a kiss on the cheek.”

“Note to self: never piss off a cheerleader.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Flack shakes his head. “They are far scarier than they make themselves out to be.”

Derek’s quiet for a moment as his fingers drum against the side of the barricade for a moment, taking his time to figure out what to say next. “I’ll be okay, you know. You don’t have to stay here and babysit me.”

“Are you kidding? Your sister’s probably seen all this rigmarole on the news by now. She is scarier than any cheerleader.”

Derek smirks a bit at that, but some tension relaxes in his shoulders. Flack knows that Derek probably didn’t actually want him to go anywhere. He just didn’t want it to seem like he was taking him away from his job. “I guess most people would probably expect you to get into a turf war with the Homeland Security guys about it.”

“Eh, they can have this one. It’s my night off.” Not that he’s not technically working anyway, but he at least has a say in how much he works. Crowd control is something he can do without thinking too hard about it.

There’s another brief bout of silence, before Derek looks up at him again, some of the uncertainty still wearing on his face. “Do you think I would make a good cop?”

The question catches him by surprise, because it’s not a career he had figured Derek for considering. He knows that the Hales have their reasons for keeping a low profile and things could get complicated on their end of things, one way or another, but there’s still something interesting about the fact that he asked the question to begin with.

“Maybe.” He considers for a moment. “Do you want to be a cop?”

“Maybe.” The answer is non-committal, almost as though he’s trying to weigh all the pros and cons in his head and come up with what the right answer is exactly supposed to be. “I like solving puzzles. And I think I’d be good at it.”

“You’d have to put in a whole lot of leg work before you become a detective.”

“I know.” There’s another pause. “I want to be better at protecting people.”

Flack wants to be able to tell him that there are no perfect ways to learn that particular skill. It isn’t something where you just flip a switch and suddenly you’re better at it. There are still people you won’t be able to save at the end of the day. But he doesn’t want to discourage him. It’s the most productive career path he’s heard Derek come up with so far, and in a lot of ways, he could be really good at it.

“You’d have to get a handle on that temper of yours.” Because at the end of the day, Derek is still a pretty angry kid, with good reason to be. “And you’d still have to go to school – at least to get an associates.”

“I can do that.” Derek almost seems to light up at the encouragement, a bright smile crossing his face. “My sister made me register at the local community college anyway. You can help me figure out what to study.”

“Sure.” Just as he nods his agreement, one of the federal agents starts speaking over the megaphone, announcing that they were all clear and everyone was free to either return to the stadium for the rest of the game, or collect voucher tickets for another night. Flack waits until Derek slips past the barricade to his side, before glancing at the two lines and then back to Derek again.

“What do you think? Stay for the game, or pick up some vouchers and go grab a slice?”

Derek thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “Pizza. We can go another night.”

Flack nods in agreement, giving his shoulders a squeeze and heading towards the ticket counter. “Pizza it is.”

machines to save our lives ~ spamalot ~ 1,277 words

[impetere]

As their children get older, some traditions are kept to as often as possible. Friday night date nights are a regular staple of the Stilinski household, as well as daddy-daughter days with Stiles and Dina. As Ben begins to get older, however, he begins to become a bit more aware of the fact that he’s being left out of primo dad time, and it makes it a bit harder for his older sister and her dad to have the alone time they’re looking for. Which, naturally, led to mommy-son days with Cora and Ben.

It’s not that he’s getting something he wouldn’t have gotten before. With Stiles and Dina out of the house, it would have been just Cora and Ben hanging out to begin with. But at least now he feels like he’s getting something special in return, which appeases him just enough to cut down on the complaining.

The cheers from the crowd echo through the air as they make their way into the large stadium, with strobe lights and fog machines running non-stop. The small boy looks around with wide eyes as his mother leads him through the crowd, keeping a tight grip on her hand as they go.

“Where are we going?” he asks as they head through the room, not able to see anything from his particular height and Cora turns to scoop him up quickly as they make their way to the front. Ahead of them are tall Plexiglas walls that raise up to protect the audience while various contestants make their way to their bullpens. As they get closer, he can see more of the obstacles that are set up within the course and the bumpers to keep them from getting stuck on the wall. “What is this place?”

“This is a BattleBots competition.” She makes her way down to one of the front rows to sit them down, directly behind an Asian woman who is looking over what looks like a tricked out remote control car. “And this is Mommy’s friend Hannah.”

Andrea looks up from her work when she hears her name and lights up when she sees Cora. “You made it! And you brought a friend.”

“This is my son, Ben,” she says with a grin, tickling his sides a bit when he looks like he’s going to be shy about the situation. “Ben, Hannah and I went to school together in Boston.”

“You mean that time Daddy doesn’t like to talk about?”

“Yes, that would be the one.” The dismissal is quick, before she moves on to the current matter at hand. “Hannah is going to be challenging all the robots here to see which one is the best. If she beats all her competitors, she wins a big prize.”

“Do you get a trophy?”

Hannah smiles at the question before nodding. “Oh, yeah. A big one.”

“Cool.” Ben grins as he leans back against his mom’s chest, settling into their seat more. “Do we get to watch them fight?”

“Yep,” Cora nods as she points out to the arena. “They’ll start there, and whoever is the last robot standing wins.”

“Okay,” he nods. “If Hannah loses can we still stay for the rest of them?”

Hannah glances up and scoffs, but the fact that she’s teasing is obvious. “Why do you assume I’m gonna lose, huh?”

Ben puts on his best innocent face and shrugs at her. “I’m just saying, anything can happen.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

Cora just laughs, before nodding. “Yes, we can stay as long as you want.”

“Awesome,” he grins, before the lights go down and the announcer comes over the loudspeakers.

“LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE.”

Ben presses back against his mother in excitement, and Cora grins. “Here we go.”

- - - - -

By the time they reach the end of the show, Ben is worn out and has his head slumped against his mom’s shoulder as they make their way out of the arena. Hannah doesn’t win the trophy – in fact, her bot gets knocked out in the first round due to an unfortunate technical difficulty – but that doesn’t diminish their night out any. Ben still has a blast, and she’s more than ready to take him home at this point.

“That was fun, Mommy.”

“Yeah?” she grins as she buckles him into his car seat. “Good. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Ben nods as the harness clicks into place. “Did you make robots with Hannah when you were in college?”

“Yeah,” Cora says with a small smile as she reaches up to brush his hair back from his forehead. “Me and Hannah were on the same robotics team. We used to build robots all the time.”

“Do you think we could build robots?” His eyes are closing and he’s so close to sleep that it’s a question he likely will not remember asking in the morning, but she’ll still answer all the same.

“Sure, kiddo. We can build all the robots you want.”

“Can we build them tomorrow?”

She laughs in response before nodding. “We’ll see. We might not have all the tools we need.”

“Daddy has a lot of tools, though.”

“I know.” She leans forward to kiss his forehead gently, before pulling back with a smile. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” is the last word he manages to get out before he passes out in the back seat and Cora can’t help but smile in response.

- - - - -

CLANG CLANG CLANG

Stiles’ eyebrows furrow as he turns towards the sound of banging as he and Cora are sitting down to breakfast the next morning. Cora pauses over the edge of her coffee as she turns and sees Ben making his way down the stairs, dragging a large tool box behind him.

“Whatcha got there, Benji?” Stiles asks, confused. It’s not that Ben hadn’t shown an interest in his tools before, but this seems much more deliberate than usual.

“Getting the tools ready,” he replies simply as he drags them over to the coffee table in the living room and places the toolbox down on top of it. “Mommy and I are going to build robots!”

“Are you?” Stiles glances back to his wife, and she gives a small shrug in return.

“I said that we would see, sleepy head. Go figures you would forget that part.”

Ben just grins brightly back at her in return. “But look! I found all of Daddy’s tools that we can use.”

“And that’s great, kiddo, but I don’t know if those tools are going to work.” Cora admits lamely. “I need special robot building tools.”

“Can we get them from the robot building store?”

The question is asked so innocently, and she can see Stiles laughing at the situation from across the table, though he at least did her the service of turning away from his son. “I don’t know. We’ll have to do some googling.”

“Okay. I’ll get Daddy’s tablet.”

He darts off out of the room again, and Cora sighs heavily, before she turns back to her husband. “This is your fault.”

“How is this my fault?”

“I’m pretty sure selective hearing is a Stilinski exclusive gene.”

“Uh-huh,” he smirks at her in return as little feet come running back towards the breakfast table and Ben scrambles into his mother’s lap with the tablet in hand. “Are you seriously going to build robots?”

“Yes!” Ben replies for her. “And we’re going to enter the competition and win the giant trophy!”

Stiles laughs as he gets up and moves over to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Alright then. Happy hunting.”

i'm hooked and i can't stop starin' | the flash | 624 words

[supertardiness]

“That … is a butt.”

Barry can already picture the look on Caitlin’s face as she exhales behind him, the kind of exasperated sigh that comes with not really knowing what to do with the person in front of them, but pleasantly endeared all the same. Or, at least, he hopes she’s pleasantly endeared. Especially considering his brain to mouth filter seemed to have disappeared when he developed super speed.

“Yes, Barry. That is a butt.” She steps up next to him and links one arm through his, leaning in to rest against his shoulder just slightly in response. “In fact, it happens to be a very colorful butt.”

“Thank you. This may be the first interpretation we’ve agreed on all night.” He shifts his stance just enough to allow her to lean closer, and his face is clearly grinning, just to make it clear that he knows he’s getting on her case and that he means no harm by it. Whether or not she will harm him later remains to be seen, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to restrain himself.

“That’s not an interpretation. That is a statement of fact.” She corrects him gently before turning and facing the piece again. “Art is about how it makes you feel, not what you see.”

“Well, the only thing I’m really feeling from this is that Sir Mix-a-Lot would be proud,” he sighs softly, before moving to step down to the next piece on the wall. “He would probably hang that in his foyer.”

“You think so?”

“It does seem to be his aesthetic,” he jokes before rounding the corner back to what seems to be more serious pieces. “And you know, it’s not that I don’t like art. It’s just sometimes I don’t really get it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you said art is supposed to be about how it makes you feel, right?” She nods in response, and Barry continues. “Then what do you do if it makes you feel confused? Or just completely out of your league.”

“There’s no right or wrong answer to art, Barry,” she replies gently as they make their way into a room of Renaissance religious art. “You just feel what you feel. And some snobby, supposedly educated people may tell you you’re wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, they can take their opinion and shove it.”

He smirks at that, before nodding in agreement. “Glad to have you on my side.”

“Anytime.”

They wander their way through the rest of the museum, giving Barry a chance to provide color commentary that surely annoyed all of the serious art lovers in the room, but he does make a note to Caitlin of what he does actually think, because she’s right – art isn’t just for the art snobs, and he feels like he can at least share it with her, if nothing else.

When they finally make their way outside, Barry slips an arm around her shoulders as he turns to lead the way back to her car. Part of him is a little antsy to move, not sit in a car and drive much slower than he would normally go, and Caitlin seems to sense that before they even make it all the way to her car.

“Want to meet me at the restaurant?”

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t want it to feel like he’s ditching her, since this is a date after all, but he also doesn’t really want to sit in a car either.

“I’m sure. You’ll probably beat me there so you can make sure they save our table.”

“I’m on it,” he grins, before leaning in to kiss her briefly. “See you there.”

And with that, he’s gone in a flash.

[trigeminalheadache]

!!! I love it.

i'll never look behind me | charmed | 698 words

[and_whatwasleft]

“I’m regretting agreeing to this.”

Val is hugging her pillow to her chest with an overnight bag in on hand when Penny looks up from the tune ups she’s doing on the van, uncertainty written all over her features. Penny straightens in return, eyeing her girlfriend for a moment before asking, very carefully:

“The trip, or the means of getting there?”

“The means, mostly. I definitely want the trip.” That much is true. She then sighs, slightly exasperated. “Why won’t you just let me orb us there?”

“First of all, it’s not all about the destination – part of it is how you get there.” She then turns back to the van to continue the tweaking she’s doing. “Second of all, while Vegas may be a big walking town, it’s still going to look a little weird if we show up without any means of transportation whatsoever.”

“You think spending hours watching miles and miles of desert go by is an important part of the trip?” Val still seems skeptical and Penny sighs, before placing her wrench to the side and making her way closer to her.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then take a deep breath, and trust me. I’m sure I will absolutely make it worth your while.”

Val takes another exasperated breath, looking over the site of the van for a moment, before looking back to Penny again. “Are you sure the van is going to make it?”

Penny rolls her eyes and pushes Val forward. “Get in the damn car.”

* * * * *

The thing about road trips is that Penny has spent most of her adult life living out of the back of her van. It’s nothing to do with a lack of means – in fact, she and her brother have a great deal of means – she just likes the freedom it gives her, not to be bound to a particular place at any given time. It wasn’t until Val came into her life that she started to value the importance of walls and an apartment.

Just because she started valuing that doesn’t mean she hasn’t missed the road and the freedom it provides. And as soon as they hit the highway on the way from San Francisco to Vegas and the buildings and signs of civilization fell away, it is almost like coming home again. Val, on the other hand, passes out almost as soon as they’re going a consistent speed and doesn’t wake until Penny pulls over for lunch.

“Wake up. I want to show you something.”

There’s a bit of a grumble as her girlfriend rouses, rubbing her eyes and glancing out the window. “Where are we?”

“Middle of nowhere,” Penny replies casually as she reaches back behind them to where the cooler with the food is. “Look.”

Val glances from her to the front window of the car and as she does, her eyes widen some in surprise. “Whoa.”

Rising up ahead of them are a series of red tinted mountains set against a clear blue sky. The rock formations are banded with various shades of red, showing the wear of the world and the majesty of it, all at the same time. Sure, there were tumbleweeds and signs of decay all around them, but there’s still plenty of beauty to go around as well.

“See what I mean?” she says with a smile as she hands her a sandwich. “There’s plenty to see out here.”

Val nods as she takes the food from her, before leaning back in her seat to study it all some more. “I guess there are still things of this world I have yet to appreciate.”

“You’re welcome.”

Val rolls her eyes, before taking a bite of her sandwich. “I still think we should have orbed there.”

“Oh, come on.”

“There’s still no promises that this thing isn’t going to break down on the way there.”

“You wanna bet?”

The terms are too personal to mention here, but safe to say Penny did win – the van didn’t break down on the way to Vegas.

It does, however, break down on the way home, but that’s a story for another time.

[supertardiness]

Yay! I'm glad you liked it.

this whole world shines so brightly | dceu/mcu | 1,254 words

[neverthehero]

“There’s a cockroach in your sink.”

“Why are you still here?”

Jessica looks less than amused as she stumbles to consciousness and stares Bruce down. He’s looking considerably less Batman-like than he did last night before she passed out, but he still manages to look too good to be standing in the middle of Jessica’s shit-hole of an apartment, with his two thousand dollar three-piece suit and his perpetual air of judgement.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“That you’re still here or that Captain Cockroach has made a grand reappearance?”

Bruce’s eyebrows go up at that, but his tone is clearly teasing as he does. “You named your cockroach.”

“It’s a hallmark of living in Hell’s Kitchen. Once you start naming your cockroaches, you know you’re here for good.” She rubs at her face as she goes for her desk drawer, looking to see if there’s another bottle lurking somewhere, but before she can open it, Bruce’s hand lands on her wrist. “You clearly want to lose that hand.”

He doesn’t let go, but he does loosen his grip. “How about I buy you breakfast?”

“I usually take my breakfast liquid.”

“You know a place that does that?”

There’s a brief flash of Luke’s old place going up in smoke and flames, and she pushes the memories away for now. “I used to.”

“Then how about you do a liquid lunch and have an actual breakfast with me instead.”

“There’s a surprising lack of judgement in that statement. Color me impressed.” She sighs as she finally pulls away, but goes for the leather jacket resting on the chair instead of the drawer. Jacket first, then boots, before she waves her hand and gestures for him to follow. “C’mon. I know just the place.”

* * * * *

The diner across the street from Josie’s usually gets most of it’s business around two or three AM, when they need to dry people out. Everyone knows the only thing you don’t order at Josie’s is the water, so most people take their friends here to wash the booze out of their system and get them some coffee and a good greasy meal to handle the hangover later. That being said, it’s still not a place where you’d expect to see Bruce Wayne, who looks decidedly out of place and has already drawn the whispers of the early morning patrons, some of them nursing hangovers and some of them just dropping in for a quick bite of solid food on their way to work. The back alley entrance is covered in graffiti and smells that really are better off left unidentified and while the inside is clean, it still has that decidedly Hell’s Kitchen grunge to it that you can never really wash out.

“This is the place?” Bruce asks as he settles into the booth across from her, eyes wandering the “working poor” of it all, and while his expression isn’t evident disgust, it’s not necessarily “I feel right at home” either.

“Yep,” she says with a sly smile. “Best pork roll in Hell’s Kitchen.”

The look on Bruce’s face says he isn’t entirely sure whether or not to question that, but for now he’ll let it go in favor of why he’s actually here. Jessica knows what that question is, and she’s going to definitely stall long enough to avoid him asking it. “And if we’re not looking for a breakfast completely covered in grease?” He raises his eyebrows at her over the top of his menu.

She smirks. “The French toast is pretty good. I’d stay away from the fruit though – it’s not exactly known for being fresh.”

“Duly noted.”

The waitress swings by with fresh coffee and takes their orders, but as she swings away again, a more shrewd look crosses Jessica’s face as she considers him. She’s gone along with the ruse of him just feeding a friend because she never says no to free food, but now she wants to know what he’s really after.

“So why the sudden generosity? Going to try and get me to join your superhero play group?”

“No. You’ve made it clear how you feel on that.” He shifts in his seat and folds his hands in front of him, leaning in closer so that they’re not overheard. “But I do need someone to help me find them.”

“And this is not me joining the team … how, exactly?”

“You know more about metahumans and gifted people than I do. You know what the signs are, and you’re better at reading people than you give yourself credit for, and you’re a damn good PI. I can’t just send any investigator to do this job.”

Jessica’s quiet for a moment, as she studies his face to see what he’s getting at. “You want to know that if someone picks a fight, they’ll be able to fight back.”

He nods once. “I’d do it myself, but I have other obligations I need to attend to. Keep up appearances. You don’t even have to make the pitch, just locate them and send me the information. I’ll take care of the rest.” There’s another pause as he reaches into his suit jacket before pulling out a card with a number written on it. “That’s your fee. And you’ll have access to Wayne Enterprise resources and vehicles – whatever you need.”

The number on the card has more zeroes than Jessica has ever seen in her life. If it were anyone else, asking her to sell out her own kind, she would have been inclined to tell them to shove it up their ass, but she also knows that Bruce isn’t doing this because he wants to toss them in a lab and perform experiments on them. He’s doing this because he wants to save the world.

It’s idealistic, altruistic bullshit, but hey. Maybe there are gifted people out there who are dumb enough to actually want to help.

“I’ll do it.” She pauses just long enough so he can hear the “but” coming, taking a long sip of her coffee. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You have to do an episode of Trish Talki.”

The look on his face was so uncomfortable, Jessica almost takes a picture of it for posterity – almost. “You want me to do daytime talk radio?”

She has to give him some credit – at least he knows what Trish Talk is. (Probably because he was investigating her.) “Trish has been on my ass ever since I started spending time with you. She knows that I have the persuasion technique of a raging bull, but she also knows that if I ever had you over a barrel I wouldn’t hesitate to use it as leverage.” She holds up the end of the card and flicks it for effect. “Bruce, meet barrel.”

He snorts a half-laugh, because all of the above is true, and also because he probably knows that one episode of talk radio isn’t going to kill him. Or, at least, it probably won’t. He nods in agreement before holding his hand across the table to her. “Deal.”

Jessica grins before reaching out to shake his hand. “You just made America’s Sweetheart very happy.”

“I’m sure,” he sighs as the food is placed in front of them. Jessica tucks her card away in her jacket before looking up at him again.

“You are still paying for breakfast, right?”

He laughs as he reaches for the silverware, before nodding his agreement. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

i've lost heaven to hell ~ beyond the rift ~ 843 words

[toomuchheart]

Castiel has never been so tired.

He had always known that his disconnect from Heaven would catch up to him eventually, but at the same time part of him always hoped that he would find his way back into a world with a Heaven of some kind, something that would recharge him and make him into more of the angel he was than the man he is starting to become. While in some worlds he can feel it, the warmth and promise of family and power, he never stays long enough to really recharge and be made whole.

And today? Today the rift has sent him flying again, but this time he’s stumbled into an alley filled with the acrid smell of death, that makes the human stomach that’s now become his more than Jimmy Novak’s in recent years. He gags, an involuntary reflex he’s not fond of, before stumbling forward in search of fresh air. He glances behind himself, more out of habit than anything else, for the familiar blond face that’s usually behind him. It’s shortly after that that he remembers that he lost Cassie several worlds ago, Jo as well. He hates the feeling of being alone, more than he hates the feeling of being human, but he manages as best he can. Angels aren’t supposed to need other people after all.

There’s a flare of white light and he closes his eyes, turning his head from the brightness of it and raising a hand in response.

“Stop! Don’t move! NYPD.”

He sighs, before straightening slightly. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

“I’d say a pretty big one, given all those dead bodies you’re standing around.”

Castiel blinks once in confusion, turning back to the darkness of the alleyway, and seeing the strewn and broken bodies behind him. He should have realized there was a reason he was gagging on the stench of death, but he hadn’t thought to look around, too disoriented by the trip through the Rift.

“Oh.”

“There’s a pile of bodies there and the best you can say is ‘oh’?” The officer seems irritated, and Castiel knows by now that his speaking will only make things worse – his skills at unnerving people into letting him go are not as strong as they used to be, and he doesn’t want to think that he is a threat. “Turn around, put your hands on your head.”

Castiel does as he’s told, before sighing heavily. “Any chance you’ll have somewhere for me to sleep while I wait?”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t have an alibi?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

* * * * *

He does manage to fall asleep in one of the holding cells as they print him and try to identify him, which is easier said than done. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t exist in this universe – and neither does Jimmy Novak – Castiel has never seen the point of identification in the first place when he could identify himself just fine, so he has no means of proving he is who he says he is. They do, at least, manage to prove that he had nothing to do with the dead bodies they found him on, and are willing to at least let him sleep it off in the cell until they figure out what to do with him.

When he finally rouses, his trench coat spread over his chest, it’s to the smell of fresh coffee and a familiar perfume that he hasn’t caught the scent of in a long time, and it washes over him like a breath of fresh air.

“There you are,” a familiar British accent says, the smile evident in her tone, even if he hadn’t been looking at her. “I was wondering when you’d come back to the land of the living again.”

“Even though I wasn’t dead,” he asks, though he clearly knows what the expression is by the smirk on his face.

“I would hope not. I would hate to finally see you after so long only to find out you weren’t among the living.” She takes a step back so that the officer can come in and unlock the cell, then continues to explain. “I vouched for you. Said you’ve been having some sleepwalking trouble and left your identification at home. They’re letting you go with a warning.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I keep an eye out when I land in new places, just in case.”

The barred wall rolls back, giving Castiel plenty of space to leave. He slides his coat back on over his shoulders, before making his way over and pulling her in to a tight hug. Maybe it’s not the best way to have seen each other after so long apart, but at least they’ve managed to find each other again.

“Nice to see you, Cassie.”

“Nice to see you too, Cas.” She pulls back with a wide smile, and he can’t help but return it in kind. “Welcome to New York.”

light no candle for my sake ~ regency au ~ 839 words

[wildkingdom]

“Where are we going?”

Liam’s voice is almost drowned out by the pounding of the rain around her, as they push through the woods, slowly getting soaked to the skin. The damp, heavy material of her gowns is starting to weigh her down but they need to get to shelter sooner rather than later. A few ripped dresses aren’t all that important in the face of seeking shelter from the weather.

“My family has a cabin not too far from here,” she replies, keeping her hand in his so they don’t lose each other in the denseness of the rain. “We’ll be safe there until the storm blows over.”

Liam looks like he wants to argue, like the idea of being in an enclosed space with Malia is not one of the better options she’s given him, but Malia isn’t interested in arguing about anything at the moment, so she’s not giving him the opportunity. While she and Liam have had their differences as of late, she also doesn’t want him to get lost or hurt in the middle of the storm. And in many ways, she’s missed her best friend, and doesn’t want to have this continued silence between them. She simply doesn’t know how to fix it.

Clearly forcing them to spend time together is the best option.

The interior of the cabin smells of dust mixed with rain water, the kind of scent usually reserved for the earth right after a storm has abated, and she’s quick to pull Liam inside after her, before shutting the door with a sigh of relief. The chill of the unheated house sets in quickly, and she pushes away from the door to keep herself moving and hopefully keep herself warm. “I’m going to find some towels. Do you think you can try and start a fire with the wood there?”

Most of the furniture is covered in sheets, the way it is usually left when the family will not be staying there, but there is also usually a heavy stock of firewood in the far corner. Brushing the droplets of water from his hair, Liam glances down at his dripping wet form and sighs, just for a moment.

“Perhaps it would be better if we found the towels first. Wet wood is no good for a fire.”

Malia hesitates at that, because the sooner the fire is going, the sooner they will be warmer, but she understands the logic and nods. “I’ll see what I can find.”

The towels are easy to locate first. Dry clothes comes soon after, with something of her cousin’s for Liam and something of hers as well. It’s fortunate that they were just there the last summer. Soon after they both are dry and their clothes are spread out in the bathroom to dry as well, they are curled up in front of the fire, trying to huddle together for as much warmth as they can.

“I’m sorry if any of this is uncomfortable for you,” he says slowly, almost as though he feels he has to, but doesn’t entirely mean it. “I know I haven’t been one of your confidants as of late.”

Malia doesn’t say anything at first, not wanting to lay blame on him again, even though she feels he still carries a lot of it. She knows that isn’t how you make amends, whether you are in the right or not.

“There are worst people to be stuck with.” She makes a face as Theo comes to mind. “I would prefer you over them.”

There’s a look on Liam’s face that he isn’t sure how to take that, but in the end he simply nods his agreement. “Thank you?”

She smirks. “Besides. You haven’t been so bad.”

“I thought you were still mad at me.”

“I am.” It’s not as strong or visceral as it was before, but she would be a fool to deny that the anger was still there. “It’s just … more complicated now.”

“More complicated?”

“It’s not as simple as me being angry with you for betraying my family. It’s … I don’t know. It’s harder to stay angry about things when there are too many points of view.” And it’s fairly certain to say that Malia doesn’t like things that are complicated on any level.

She shivers as a draft whips through the house, and Liam shifts one of the blankets so that it drapes gently around her shoulders. She sighs as she leans into the warmth of him, body seeking out that needed warmth.

“If it helps, I promise to never leave you again.”

It’s a comforting thought, and she wants to believe it, but she’s been burned by Liam before. As much as she wants to trust him, it’s hard to do so. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“This one I intend to. You have my word as a knight.”

Malia looks up at him for a moment, before she exhales with a nod and leans into his shoulder again. “We’ll see.”

but my love is bigger than a honda ~ dark angel/the vampire diaries ~ 696 words

[whatialways_do]

The motel room that they find themselves in is a weird kind of hodgepodge of furniture that really has no place together. Not that that’s uncommon for motel rooms after the Pulse, but this one seems to think that it’s a selling feature of some kind, and is almost all too proud to display it. Between the mismatched wallpaper, a bed that is dressed with a brightly clashing floral print, and the crushed velvet couch that seems to have been pulled out of an old Cadillac, it’s an eyesore in a way that almost literally hurts and Max is half-tempted to walk right back out the door again.

Unfortunately, it’s not like they can afford anything better, or to make a fuss.

“I regret this already.”

Elena comes in shortly behind her, glances around the rest of the room and shrugs. “I’ve slept in worse.” After that she brushes past her to drop her things in one of the corners and Max can only give her a disbelieving look.

“Seriously? Worse than this?”

“You don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t know.” Elena turns back to her girlfriend with a smirk, before making her way over to sit down on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t even take the chance to settle in before she’s standing back up again. “This bed is not going to work, though.”

“This room looks like your brain on drugs and the bed is the thing you’re complaining about?” Max makes her way over to sit in the place she did and frowns when the mattress seems to be as unforgiving as a slab of granite. She tries shifting a little, seeing if it’s just that one area, but there doesn’t seem to be any relief no matter what she does. She makes a face. “We’d be better off sleeping on the floor.”

“That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” Elena grins as she starts to pull the sheets and blanket from the bed. She tugs hard enough to force Max to her feet again before she removes them completely and makes her way over to the couch. “We can make a fort.”

“Aren’t we a little old for that kind of stuff?”

“I’m not going to hold that against you because I know you’ve had a complicated upbringing,” she replies simply as she starts to get to work. “But you’re never too old for a fort.”

An hour later, they are both shrouded in the shadows of the sheets and there’s a kind of security to it that Max hadn’t been expecting. It isn’t that she hadn’t anticipated the whimsy of it, but more that she didn’t realize that it’s a way of blocking the rest of the world away. Sure, the walls are flimsy and it wouldn’t stand up against a full press assault, but right now, in this moment, the only things that mattered were Elena and Max – no one else in the world existed.

“Alright, I take it back,” Max smirks. “This is a pretty awesome idea.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Elena smirks as she curls into her shoulder a bit. “And already way more comfortable than the bed.”

“Agreed.” Max shifts for a moment so that she’s more on her level, before turning to face her again. “I’m really glad you’re running with me.”

Elena glances back at her, almost confused by the statement. “Did you really think I would say no?”

“I don’t know,” Max gives a small shrug. “It’s always kind of a hassle to get asked to pack up your life suddenly and run without any real destination in mind. We don’t even know if we’re going to make it out of this alive.”

Elena watches her for a moment, before moving one hand to cup her cheek gently and pull her in closer. “You’re my life. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” After that, she leans in to kiss her again, deeply and soundly. Max relaxes into the kiss almost instantly and as the two of them sink to the floor to enjoy their perceived level of privacy, Max can’t help but wonder how she got so lucky.

a tale that's rather grim and gory | the originals | 621 words

[deathlessness]

Freya hates starlings.

It’s nothing against the birds themselves, but they always manage to remind her of her mother, a woman who managed to fail her family more times than Freya can count. Perhaps she’s looking at it through the eyes of a daughter scorned, but what should probably be a comforting sound no longer is such, and instead a sign of danger and an oncoming storm, disguised in the sound of birds.

It’s why when the spell holding the Mikaelsons in their mutual purgatory is threatened, the chirp-chirp-chirp of the alarm is that of starlings, and Freya immediately leaves the farmhouse for the edges of their mutual dream world to investigate. Most times she’s on her own, as magic is a skill she alone possesses. Occasionally Kol might come by to provide magical commentary, but their relationship is still not as repaired as she would like nor expect. But this particular morning, as she settles in the grass with her sage and other ingredients, it’s Rebekah that finds her, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Is something wrong?”

Freya shakes her head as she folds her knees under her to get started. “No, not necessarily. Some of the protections fade over time, and I need to renew them.”

“I thought the sleeping spell couldn’t be broken by outside forces.”

“It can’t. So long as we are tethered to Klaus’ life force, we should be safe.” Should being the operative word. “However, this world that I have created for us is much more fragile. If someone were to break it, while it wouldn’t wake us and begin the process of our dying all over again, I wouldn’t be able to recreate it in my current state.”

“I see,” Rebekah nods as she sits next to her, folding her legs under her as well. “The longer this stays undetected, the longer we get to stay together.”

Freya nods again. “I do not want to risk what Finn experienced in his long sleep happening to us if we are to remain here for longer than we’d hoped. We’ll probably be safer if we stay together. I just wish that I could have gotten Klaus in here with us.”

“He understood the role he needed to play – the sacrifice he needed to make.” A small smile crosses her face for a moment. “I know we’re all in coffins again, but this time it doesn’t feel like he’s sacrificing us for his own safety, for once. It’s strange, to see something this selfless from him.”

“I will have to take your word for it.” While Freya has seen her fair share of Klaus’ selfishness in action, as well as small selfless acts, this is likely the first time he’s done so without completely burning everything to the ground in his wake. “But still – he doesn’t deserve the kind of suffering that Marcel has imposed on him. If anything, I feel like it should have been me. I was the one who cost him Davina.”

“We have all made our mistakes. I suppose it was about time a thousand years of karma caught up with us.” She reaches over and holds out her hand to Freya. “Is there anything I can do to help? Make the edges of the spell a bit stronger?”

Freya glances over to her with a small smile, before taking her hand gently. “If you don’t mind my channeling you?”

“Not at all.” She smiles in return. “What are incredibly powerful sisters for, after all?”

Freya smiles in return, before closing her eyes and beginning the chant. It will keep them all safe for a little while longer, that much is certain. Hopefully, they won’t be needing it for much longer.

you start them just to feel the heat ~ teleios ~ 599 words

[laywastetothee]

There’s something incredibly terrifying about a Temelechus and Rakshasa who have cause to work together, and it’s something Ares learns about the two of them very quickly, much to his pleasant surprise. It isn’t that he didn’t have effective pairs of warriors previously, but there’s something about the efficiency to the team of Paz and Scarlett that he winds up sending them together on missions often. This suits Paz just fine, as part of her did worry that they would be separated once Scarlett’s training was complete, and she would have hated to have had to kill one of her fellow warriors who did not bring Scarlett back in one piece.

Overprotective? Maybe. But Paz has so few people she feels protective of that she doesn’t particularly care.

Paz gains quite a bit of notoriety as being part of the group that killed Loki, even if she hadn’t been the one to strike the fatal blow herself. It makes some of their work easier, some of it harder, but in the end she appreciates the challenge just as much as the deference. Currently, she’s stretched out the beach, a fire crackling next to her as the sand scratches against her back and she and Scarlett both ride out the highs of their Callings.

“You know, I never asked – why Ares? Aside from the obvious, I mean.” Scarlett shifts over onto her stomach so that she can see Paz’s face and gauge her response. “There are probably a few different gods of war.”

“He was the least judgmental.” Paz replies simply, not needing to give it much thought. “The other gods of war are more concerned with honor and glory than the battle itself. Ares understood my need to kill and didn’t feel the need to reform me in his image.”

Possibly because in many ways, she already was.

“Fair enough.” Scarlett pulls a cigarette from her pocket, holding it close enough to the flames so that it can catch the edge and light. “Just not many people would consider him the ‘good’ option.”

There’s a bit of a smirk as Paz tips her head back. “Have I ever given you the impression I care about good versus bad?”

She laughs. “Course not. I’m not daft. I just thought you might have … turned over a new leaf.”

Paz laughs herself, before shaking her head. “I’m not so worried about that. I just need a purpose. Ares was more than happy to give me it so long as I got him what he wanted.”

“Fair enough.”

Scarlett takes a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke up into the air, before tucking her arm behind her head as she stares up at the stars. Thebes always has had beautiful stars, and she’s more than happy to lean back and enjoy it, just soaking in the quiet and relishing a job well done. After a long period of silence, Scarlett exhales before turning back to face Paz again.

“Think we might be able to stick around for a little while?”

“Maybe,” Paz glances over at her. “What did you have in mind?”

Scarlett shrugs again, before looking up at the stars again. “Just might be nice to explore for a bit. Haven’t really had the chance to do that.”

Paz considers quietly for a moment, before glancing back and nodding with a small smile. “We can do that. Where do you want to go?”

“Is there anywhere cool that you’ve been? Somewhere fun?”

Paz considers for a moment, before a wide smile splits her face. “I know just the place.”

don't freak out, don't strike out ~ spamalot ~ 586 words

[beanchaointe]

Lydia’s fingers crumple the edges of her velvety dress in her hands as she sits in the car, staring at the glowing lights of the venue not too far away. Part of her feels frozen, unsure if she should even go in there, despite the fact that she was invited. It’s the first real campus event she’s attended since her trip to Eichen House, and she isn’t sure she’s even really wanted. She just keeps staring for a moment before Parrish’s hand slips over hers, linking their fingers together as he does.

“I don’t think they’re going to bite.”

There’s a pause before she glances over at him, the uncertainty clear in her expression as she swallows hard. “No, but there might be a fair amount of awkward staring, and I think I had enough of that on my first day back at work. This is the first official staff event since my little stint in the insane asylum.”

“I think you can survive the awkward staring.”

“Maybe, but I’d almost prefer them being out to bite me.” She sighs heavily, her free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose, so as not to disturb her make up. “I used to be their golden goose, future Field Medal recipient. Now I’ve gone to the John Nash end of the spectrum and that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“Okay, fair.” She hears him shift in his seat as he turns to face her, resting one arm on the steering wheel as he does. “But you going to Eichen House doesn’t make you any less of a genius. Their genius. You just have to remind them of that.”

“That’s not going to be easy. Academia is incredibly judgmental.”

“And the rest of the world isn’t?” He tips his head to the side. “I still get weird stares now that I’m back at work. But they’re getting better.” She opens her mouth to give some kind of protest, and he cuts her off. “It’s not going to get better if you keep avoiding things. You have to show them you’re fine, just as much as telling them.”

She huffs. “I know.”

“We don’t have to stay for the whole thing, either.” He squeezes her hand gently. “We can stay until things are really too weird, and then we can leave. If you don’t think your colleague will be too upset.”

“Honestly, I’d be surprised if he’s even here,” she replies. “He’s not exactly known for the hobnobbing and ass kissing of academic events, even if it’s his ass their kissing.”

“Even better. We go in, stay long enough to not be rude, and leave. No harm, no foul.”

She pauses, considering the offer for a moment, before nodding her agreement. “Alright. I think that could work.”

“Good,” he nods before smirking at her. “C’mon. Time to go show me off.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Show you off?”

“Obviously in this scenario, you’re the brains and I’m the pretty one,” he teases, moving to climb out of the car. “My only job here is to look nice.”

She laughs as he comes around to open her door and offers his hand to her. As she takes it, she gives it a small squeeze and lowers herself to the ground. “Not the only reason you’re here.”

He tips forward and leans in to kiss her gently, before offering his arm. “Ready to go?”

She pauses, taking a deep breath, before nodding and taking his arm. “Let’s do this.”

cause you could play the life of the party ~ teen wolf/the vampire diaries ~ 646 words

[impetere]

“So what are you celebrating again?”

Cora looks up at Tyler as he makes his way around the end of the couch she is currently stretched out on, trying to determine if she actually wanted to accept his invitation to go to whatever fancy Founders event happened to be happening this week. It seems like there are far more of them than should be logically possible, but they were important to his mom, so she can understand why they’re important to Tyler too.

That doesn’t mean, however, that she wants to subject herself to going to one. Not without good reason.

“Some minute milestone that we really don’t actually need to celebrate, but we do it anyway.” He shrugs as he nudges her feet off the edge of the couch so he can sit in their place. “It’s basically just an excuse to drink.”

Cora tips her head to the side as she starts to sit up more, almost as though there was something about that statement that didn’t compute. “Do people actually need an excuse to drink around here?”

“Harsh,” Tyler tosses back at her, with a mock-offended look, before he drops it with a bit of a laugh. “But fair.”

“I don’t know,” Cora sighs, shaking her head. “I already spend enough time watching your friends drink as it is.”

“I know. But the rest of them are busy dealing with their own problems.” She starts to point out that this is a pattern with Tyler’s friends and can you really call them friends if that’s the case, but Tyler holds up a hand to indicate that she should let him finish. “And this meant a lot to my mom. If I didn’t make sure it went off without a hitch, she’d come back from beyond the grave to haunt me for the rest of my supernatural life.”

Not that Cora remembers Talia being that obsessive over anything, but she could understand the idea of wanting to protect something that was important to your mother, who you miss. She exhales slowly as she thinks it over, before glancing back over to him. “If your friends are all too busy to help you with this, does that mean the Salvatores won’t be there?”

And by “Salvatores” she means “Damon.”

“Highly likely,” Tyler says with a nod. “Unless they decide to use the party for a cover for whatever the Vampire Problem of the Week is, in which case … someone’s probably going to get murdered over the course of the evening.”

Because that’s how things roll in Mystic Falls. Cora makes a face at that, because she would prefer they manage to get through a party with no murder at all, but there’s not much she can do about that. As much as she would love to claw Damon’s eyes out, that is something that would be frowned upon by Tyler’s other friends. She doesn’t actually care, but Tyler still has to deal with them, so Cora tries not to make waves.

“Then let’s hope that they don’t,” she sighs as she swings her legs over the side of the couch more. Then she pauses and makes a face. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“It is black tie.”

Cora groans again, before nodding and getting to her feet. “Guess I have to go shopping.”

“I can pay for it.”

She shakes her head as she grabs her jacket. “I got it. But you so owe me for this.”

“Agreed,” Tyler says with a grin, before getting up to follow her. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”

“See, when you say that, it never quite actually feels like fun.”

“Alright. But can we at least agree to consider the night a win if we don’t wind up covered in blood?”

Cora considers quietly for a moment, before nodding as they finally reach the door. “Deal.”

suddenly seeing a different city ~ dctv/smallville ~ 709 words

[prosecutorial]

Laurel doesn’t arrive in Smallville so much as crash land when she’s shoved through a portal into a world unknown. Constantine had said the trip wouldn’t be easy, but that she would be safe in the hands of the other side. Part of her doesn’t want to trust it, but that’s also the same part that is entirely unprepared to leave behind her friends and family, to let them believe that she’s dead. Constantine drove the point home hard, however.

This is the only way that Sara can save her and still stop Darhk. It’s the only way they can end this once and for all. And one day, they will send Barry to bring her home, though there’s no promising when that day will be, or if they will even be able to find her. Still, Darhk is the bigger threat. Darhk must be stopped. So she agrees, and stumbles into the arms of Zatanna Zatara, who takes care of her until she’s back on her feet again.

Still, being in Smallville is such a drastic departure from what she’s used to. Eventually, she may find her way to Metropolis and live in the city again, but right now she’s getting used to the farms, used to the quiet, and used to Oliver not being her Oliver. It still stings a little, to be teased with what she can’t have, but she’s making due. And it doesn’t hurt that she made a few friends along the way.

One of those friends being Lana Lang.

Tonight was another one of their bonding nights in the apartment over the Talon, with milkshakes, French fries and terrible movies, and a moment of silence falls between then, Laurel’s hand wandering to the necklace she’s wearing absently as her thoughts drift to things she can no longer have. She’s almost completely distracted until Lana’s voice breaks through her thoughts.

“Who are you thinking about?”

Laurel blinks for a moment, her attention being drawn back to the woman next to her, and then down at the necklace in her hand. “Ollie.” There’s a beat and she clasps the charm in her hand. “My Ollie.”

“You loved him?”

“I did.” She pauses for a moment, pulling at the chain as she thinks of exactly how to phrase it. “Still do. It’s hard not to when someone’s been in your life for so long.”

“I know that feeling.”

“You and Clark?” Laurel doesn’t have to think about that guess. She has eyes, after all. Lana laughs for a moment, before nodding her agreement.

“Me and Clark. We loved each other on and off for a long time.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“We became different people, I guess. We both had different paths to follow.”

Laurel wishes that it had been something that simple for her and Oliver. It wasn’t, really. In a lot of ways, it felt like Oliver simply moved forward while she was left mired behind. She didn’t really have a path, because all roads somehow led back to him.

“I miss him,” Laurel admits softly. “As happy as I am here to be here and be alive … ”

“You miss the people you love,” Lana nods with a small smile as she shifts to settle next to her more, slipping an arm around her shoulders so that Laurel can lean into her, which she does. “That’s not an unfair thing to feel.”

Laurel pauses quietly for a moment, before looking up at Lana and choosing her next words carefully. “Is it unfair for me to feel things about people here, even though I’ll probably be leaving to go back to them eventually?”

There’s a moment of tension as Lana pauses, playing with Laurel’s hair for a moment in contemplation. “You can’t help how you feel. And personally, life is too short to spend it questioning that.” Lana then glances over with a small smile. “I think if there’s a person you feel that way about, you should just accept it for what it is. You may be better off for it.”

Laurel smirks in return, just for a moment, before shifting and settling in more firmly against Lana’s side, and turning her attention back to the movie. “I will keep that in mind.”

i see myself reflected in your eyes ~ smallville/supernatural ~ 514 words

[iluvroadrunner6]

It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t sit still.

Jo knows this one from experience. She watched it with her parents, the way her mother sighed a little heavier when her father was gone, and the way she lit up like a Christmas tree when he returned. She remembers once, when she was little, she asked him how she would know when she met the one, and he said, in his backwards, old fashioned kind of way:

“You’ll know when you love him enough that nothing else really matters. That you’d throw away your whole life just so you can stand by his side, and he loves you enough to say that you don’t have to.”

(Some days, she wishes Ellen had insisted a little harder that Bill stay home. But in a lot of ways, she knows she’s just like him, and that’s why Ellen couldn’t get her to stay.)

There’s one thing her dad got wrong about that statement, however – Jo’s end-all and be-all, her white whale, her one to throw it all away for isn’t a man. It’s a woman. In fact, it’s a blond woman that she meets behind the counter of a small town coffee shop.

“Hi,” she says softly, eyes meeting the moment they meet. “I’m Chloe.”

And just like that, Jo is head over heels.

This isn’t to say that things are easy. Chloe is involved in some complicated things in Smallville that Jo doesn’t fully understand, and Jo still needs to hunt, feels the road call to her in a way that so few things can, but they manage, one way or another. The world is always going to be a complicated place, and if they threw in the towel just because things were weird, then they wouldn’t be the one for each other. But at the end of the day, Jo knows that if Chloe asked her to stay in Smallville, she would.

There’s one day, however, when Jo gets a message from Chloe to meet her somewhere off the grid. She doesn’t know what it’s about, but she goes, on edge for more reasons than she count, mostly starting with wondering why Chloe didn’t just call, and when she finally lays eyes on her, she knows that something is wrong. Chloe doesn’t give her much time to dwell on it, however. She just moves in, pushes her against the car, and kisses her deeply almost as though she just wants to sink into something familiar.

“Take me away from here.”

From anyone else she would think it was corny. From Chloe, she knows that something is up.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’ll explain when we get there. Can we just go anywhere but here?”

“Yeah,” Jo says with a nod, before putting Chloe in the car and beginning to drive in the direction of her mother’s bar. “We can go anywhere you want.”

She doesn’t know what the next chapter of this story is going to hold, but she knows that as long as Chloe is by her side, she can make it through anything.

for tifa

[iluvroadrunner6]

079. Winter - David & Zara