apachefirecat

If You Want Me...

2022-07-27T01:42:14Z

Sadly, you're going to have to come to DW. So many of my comms just have way too much NSW postings, and I can't risk somebody seeing them. I am on DW every weekday, however, and still maintain hopes to ONE FREAKING DAY actually be able to get online at home again. Please, if you're over there, give me a holler!

Growing

2022-07-02T17:28:09Z

Title: Growing
Fandom: Batman
Dedicated To: <3 My very own Harley, my "Mister J" <3
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Ivy/Harley
Rating: G/K
Summary: Ivy's growing; she's not the only one.
Word Count: 1089
Written For: Fan FlashWorks: 375: Seed
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

Ivy carefully cupped the tiny, green ball in her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, sending warmth from deep within her into the seed. When the small seed began to heat in her hands, Ivy reopened her eyes but kept her gaze and attention focused on the delicate thing that still needed her. It began to grow in her cusp. Vines broke slowly out from it, and as they grew, Ivy set the seed back into the fresh soil and patted it into its bed.

She could feel its gratitude sweeping up from the ground into her. Its vines slid up her legs, circled her waist, and hugged her gently as they continued to grow. Then they spread across the ground, eager in its first exploration of its new world, a world where she knew she would keep it safe. She sighed and rocked back onto her heels, satisfied at her little one’s growth.

“PAM-A-LAMB!” Harley’s loud, shrill voice shattered the silence. Her hyenas rushed into the garden, laughing merrily. “YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT I BOUGHT TODAY!”

Ivy sighed. In all her years, she had never spent her money from her scientific research, what little there had been of it until she’d had a second pair of helping hands, on so many frills! At least it was new clothes, she thought, glancing at Harley’s armload of bags, and not more silly gag gifts. Besides, if they brought her Harls joy, they were well worth the money, no matter how much it might have been or how much good she might have been able to do with those same funds for Mother Earth and their children.

Harley was a lot like their seeds, so fragile, so delicate, though hidden deep within a hard shell. Harls stopped and looked at her girlfriend. She popped her gum and let it splatter over her lips. Just like a silly teenager, Ivy thought. Harley was never going to grow up, but that also was never going to stop Ivy from loving her. “Whatcha doing?” To Ivy’s surprise, Harley tossed her bags to the side and dropped down beside her on her pale, muscular knees.

“Growing,” Ivy murmured softly in response, looking back down to the seed. Several vines had now grown from it, and her new baby was eagerly exploring every bit of space it could find.

A vine got too close to one of Harley’s hyenas, and the hyena snapped at it. “No no!” Harley wagged a finger at the spotted, mangy beast. “Momma’s baby mustn’t snap at Momma’s other baby’s baby!” She giggled, pleased with the silliness of her remark.

Ivy sighed, but she still had to smile, watching Harley. The beautiful, precious woman had grown so much in the short time they had known each other. Yes, she thought, growing. She was growing so many things these days, and in so many more wonderful ways than she’d ever thought possible before first meeting Harley and becoming determined to help her break free from the abuse in which she had suffered so greatly and for so very long.

“So,” she said, springing up from the ground, “show me your bags!”

“Sure thing!” Harley grinned wide, bounced up, and hurried over to her bags. She started to pull the clothes out to show Ivy, but Ivy waved her away.

“No!” the redhead declared dismissively. “Show me!”

“Huh?” Harley asked, a look of complete befuddlement falling over her beautiful face.

“Show me,” Ivy repeated and then gestured to the bags and a great fern that stood watchfully not too far away. She smiled and batted her eyelashes at her. “Dress up for me.”

“Oh!” Harley’s face lit up. “You betcha!” She hurried to hide behind the fern.

They’d spend the next few hours playing dress up and pretend, Ivy knew, but Harley would relish every moment of it. She, in turn, would relish every moment with the one human who she treasured as much as the plants with whom she had always surrounded herself. If not, Ivy thought, feeling a tinge of guilt, more so. She glanced around her at her beloved plants. They needed her so badly, and she was the only one who cared for Mother Nature’s other children the way she did.

But then, she was also the only one who truly cared for this child, she thought, clapping as Harley bounded out from behind the fern in a tiny pair of (of all things) polka dotted, red and black shorts and a matching, tight crop top featuring a huge, black bow. Harley was full of love, life, and joy, but she had never had anyone to care for her, not truly. She had never had anyone before the Joker, which was why she had fallen so easily, quickly, and hard for the ruthless clown who had never genuinely cared for her and had always used her, and hurt her, for his own advantages. He had drained everything from Harley, destroying her reputation, her spirit, her mind, the very woman who she had been before. Harley had been despondent, a meager shell of any living being, let alone a vibrant, beautiful woman, when Ivy had taken her in the last time and began to nurse her back to health. Harls hadn’t left since, but she had grown. She had grown in joy and beauty. Even her mind had begun to heal. Yes, Ivy thought, she was growing, and she was looking ever more beautiful with each day. She only hoped that when she was healed completely, she would choose to stay with her instead of going back to the clown, as she had done every time before.

“Hey, Pam-a-lamb?” Harley called from behind the fern.

Ivy blinked, her lover’s timid voice drawing her out from her reverie. “Yes?”

“You ever think about seeing the world?” Harley asked. “I mean, I know your plants can’t exactly go everywhere -- “

“They can go wherever I can.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Harley asked again with every timid caution of a sweet but scared, little girl, “Well, have you ever thought about it?”

“Harley,” Ivy replied, rocking back on her heels once more and beaming, “I would love to see the world with you.” Indeed, she would, and she would love to continue growing every day in humanity and in love and in whatever else for which the Green Mother had chosen to give her this beautiful girl, her one human friend in all the world and so much more.

The End

Xavier's

2022-06-30T21:48:09Z

Title: Xavier's
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Charles/Erik, Remy/Rogue, Logan, Jubilee, Ensemble
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Logan's adjusting. Slowly.
Word Count: 2310
Written For: What-If AU 55: The Staff AU and All Bingo Body Parts Bingo Fest: Teeth
Warnings: AU
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

He didn't like where this was going. He'd been alone too long out in the woods, or at least, that's what people said, amongst other, less nice things. If you asked him, though, he would have said he hadn't been out there long enough. People were the ones who could not be trusted, not animals. Animals were straight forward; they either wanted to eat you, avoid you, or be petted by you. Bipedals, however, were the strange ones, the more ferocious ones not because they were any stronger than a bear, wilder than an ape, or meaner than an angry rattlesnake but because they would kill, and did so every day somewhere across the globe, for less honorable reasons.

And this place reeked of far too many humans, or other creatures that nonetheless walked around on two legs and conducted themselves with a human type of society. It didn't really matter which they were -- homo sapien, homo inferior, Vampire, lycanthrope. What mattered was that they were people, and they all wanted something. They all wanted something to further their own goals. Charlie preached a good debate, but Logan knew that even he had his own desires, his own plans for which he would use anything, or anyone, he could justify -- and it really was a wonder how far people could stretch their morals to justify their desires.

He grunted. Be that as it may, he was hungry. He'd never eaten like he did at this grandoise place, and he'd never been one to turn away free food. Besides, as much as they aggravated him, the more he came around these people, the more he would come to know them, to understand their motifs, and to be able to act accordingly. He'd never give them what they wanted unless it benefited him, but showing up to dinner definitely benefited him.

He could just take a couple of plates and go, but that wouldn't give him the opportunity to watch them and learn. He needed to get to know these people not because he liked any of them, not because he wanted their offered friendships, but rather so that he could protect himself from their plights and ploys. They wouldn't bend him. They thought they could take the wild out of the man, but instead they'd welcomed the wild into their fancy abode.

"Logan," Charles greeted him with a smile whose warmth the man once called Wolverine did not feel, "I'm glad you joined us."

"Kinda hard to pass by free grub, Charlie, when you've been hungry." His angry eyes surveyed the table as he wondered where to sit.

"You got dat right, mon ami." He shifted his gaze to the lean, tall Cajun who looked back at him through unblinking, blood red eyes. He was part of the leading secodary magical family that made up the people who lived at this fancy place, beings that Charles had brought together for their own protection, or so he and his lover claimed. From what Logan had been able to tell, LeBeau had married into the family, headed by Xavier's top Sorceress who was also one of his top advisors, seconded only by Magnus.

There was something off beyond that with the Cajun himself, however. There was something about that actual man that just rubbed his fur the wrong way. He caught sight of his teeth as he smiled. The sharp points of his fangs gleamed in the candlelight. Logan knew he was a Vamp, but he'd met plenty of "friendly" Vampires, Vampires who chose to only take their blood from blood banks, animals that were slaughtered for meat, or wiling donors. Hell, the only one in the whole damn group who actually made him feel truly welcomed was a Vampire herself.

Logan nodded to the kid as he took the seat beside her baby. Strange, he thought for the first time but taking another sniff of the air just to be certain he was right, how a Vampire woman could have a human baby. He'd seen Lee with the kid, though, and she truly was a good mother.

He glanced to the left at the ghost who walked. That girl wasn't much older than Lee, but she had the unnerving habit of walking right through the walls in the corridors. She'd nearly bumped into him the other night when he'd been coming in late, and she'd actually had the gall to giggle about it, apologize, and wave at him as she passed through him too! She sat beside a Demon with both forked tongue and forked tail. Kurt Wagner wasn't the only one with blue fur, though, Logan thought as he glanced down at the other end of the table, where the group's head doctor sat. He was both chief Scientist and head doctor to humans, animals, and, Logan guessed, everything in between. A man that looked like a freaking, walking snowman sat beside him.

"Why don't we cut the crap here, Xavier?" Logan asked, spearing a piece of steak with his butcher knife. He lifted the steak to his lips and tore off a piece with his own fangs. He had fangs and claws, too, but he was no Werewolf or Vampire. That like couldn't stand to tussel with him: He'd always come out the winner, and he would from this place too.

Charles steepled his fingers together before him and touched the tips lightly with his lips. "Do tell, Logan, and just what crap are we referring to here?"

"All o' this," Logan barked out, waving a hand around, but his belly was even hungrier than he was angry. He couldn't resist ripping another steak apart in his teeth in mere seconds.

The tall, white-haired man beside Charles frowned his disapproval. "You really are a foolish beast," he remarked coldly. "Not only do you eat like a wild beast, but you're just as stupid as to bite the hand that feeds you."

"No one bites my hands, Erik, but you."

Charles' soft whisper made the taller man blush. "You know I do not approve of letting anyone speak to you in such a manner, my love," he protested, but his blue eyes did not raise a second time from his full plate.

"I could still his tongue for you," a woman in white spoke with a tone that somehow seemed even icier, "if you like."

Logan stabbed his table with his knife. "That's exactly what I'm -- " His eyes shot wider than their dinner plates as he suddenly found he could not speak. He grabbed at his throat, then glowered at the woman in white. He didn't know what kind of Sorcery she had used, but it became worse as he moved to attack her and defend himself. He suddenly could not move at all!

"Release him, Emma," Charles spoke. Logan felt a strange, unnamed weight lift from him, and he fell forward toward the table.

Jubilee was on her feet in an instant, but no because he was headed to land on Shogo. She caught him and held him up straight. "Easy there, big fellow. It doesn't pay to annoy Frostie. I had to learn that lesson the hard way."

"As you can see, Wolverine, we are all very capable of defending ourselves, should the need arise."

"Charles, must we really have this conversation at the dinner table?"

"Why do you all eat together?" Logan spat. He'd make another move on the blonde, but he knew she'd stop him and somehow freeze his entire body before he could ever touch her. "It's not like Vampires even eat!"

"Watch it, bub," Jubilee hissed at him, using his own words against him. "I just saved your ass."

"Not really, kid, but I guess I 'preciate the hand." He pulled himself up and away from her and, after only a moment's further hesitation, retook his seat. The ivory-haired woman who had spoken had been the first voice he'd heard to rise with both elegance and gentility in this place. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he could swear he could feel the wind picking up in the room.

She was beautiful, but he somehow sensed that she was perhaps the deadliest of all those gathered at this... round table. That was another strange change from the norms to which he was accustomed. Why was the damn thing round anyway? Was Charles pretending to collect his own twisted Knights of the Round Table, and if so, for what purpose? The old, bald Wizard claimed that he gathered different beings here to give them a safe haven, but Logan had learned long ago that nothing was ever as good as it seemed.

Charles looked at him with a tiny smile twisting his lips with wry humor. "You are correct, Logan. I am no King Arthur, nor would I ever deign to be. His shoes were far too legendary for me to hope to fill." His blue eyes twinkled.

Logan tensed. Were they making fun of him? he thought suddenly, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from attempting a foolish attack. Any attack against this group would be foolish, at least right now; until he could figure out what powers these people had and how to surprise them, best them, and keep them from using their powers, he didn't stand a chance of even freaking touching them, especially thanks to the likes of the blonde and Xavier both.

"What I do hope to offer to everyone who has been born different is exactly what I have told you. I want to make a safe haven for people like us all. I want to be able to give those who are different a safe place to sleep, to gather, to live, to hone their abilities if they see fit... to become and raise a family here." His piercing gaze went from the Darkholmes to the baby sitting next to Logan. He barely managed to resist the urge to jump between Lee, the kid, and Xavier, but surely he wouldn't hurt one of his so easily right here out in the open.

"But why?" he growled. "What do you get out of it?"

"Joy, peace, love," Charles answered amiably, raising his and Erik's joined hands, "and if I'm lucky, truly lucky, the family I have always wanted, we have always wanted to hold."

A gust of wind blew open the doors at the end of the corridor. "All who gather here are considered equals, and each and every one, including yourself, is free to go at any time. But I pulled you from the deepest, coldest forests in Canada, Wolverine. Do you really want to go back to that existence, to the struggle for food, clothing, and anything else you may need?"

Shogo gurgled. The baby looked up at Wolverine with admiration and gleeful, shining, and tiny hands unlike any he had witnessed in so very long. Fox and he had tried to raise a baby... They had tried and failed miserably. He lifted his gaze from the baby to his mother, who was looking at him almost as pleadingly. He grunted and shifted his gaze back to his plate.

"It has been a damn long time since I ate like this," he admitted, piercing another steak and ripping into it with his fangs. "I guess I could stick it out a while, least keep my belly full a couple o' nights..."

Charles nodded, pleased, and the doors shut. Conversations began to drift around the table as if nothing had happened or perhaps to cover up the fact that someone had actually dared to stand up to the man who they all seemed to revere like a King, or at least a great Wizard. Logan grabbed a roll, and then another. On his fifth piece of steak, he finally grunted out, "Who made the grub anyway?"

"Well, mon ami, dat's de funny t'ing. You say we Vampires don't need to eat, an' you're right -- we don't." His red eyes twinkled merrily at him. "But it don' mean we don' enjoy it."

"You made this?" Logan asked, nodding toward the feast.

"Some o' it. Rogue made some. Jean made some. Bobby made most of the deserts."

"You see, Logan, the one thing I do ask in return for allowing others to live here is that everyone serve a role," Charles explained from the end of the table. "We all work here. We all come together here."

Logan raised a bushy brow at the Wizard. "What do ya expect me to do?" he asked.

"There are some old trees in need of being reduced to kindling, and a fence that needs repair. Ororo can show you the trees tomorrow. I trust you can handle an axe?"

"'Course," he grunted and ripped into yet another piece of meat.

"Ororo, are you prepared? Have you chosen your seeds?"

The ivory-haired woman from before answered her leader with a voice just as elegant, gentle, and peaceful as it had been the only other time Logan had heard her speak. "I have, Charles."

"Seeds?" Logan asked, brow raising again.

"Yes." He tingled inside this time when her eyes met with his. "You see, Logan," she explained with a smile, "we at Xavier's never simply destroy any living thing."

"Thought th' trees were already dead -- " He did have a problem with chopping a perfectly fine and healthy tree.

"They are, but in the stead of the dead, we always spring new life."

"That so?" His gaze moved questioningly to Lee, who seemed to have pushed her way a little closer to him.

"The dead dead." She grinned up at him and popped a strip of fried potato -- a strange culinary delight -- into her mouth. He supposed they were right: Vampires could eat, and maybe, just maybe, the dead could learn to live again.

The End

Come Back

2022-06-30T21:46:32Z

Title: Come Back
Dedicated To: <3 My J, without whom I never would have gave anything Seth MacFarlane even the slightest chance! <3
Fandom: The Cleveland Show
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Cleveland/Donna
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Donna considers the blessing in her life... all while knowing it cannot last.
Word Count: 2144
Written For: 1 Million Words June Pool Party and A to Z: R, FFFC June Amnesty: r22.10: Winner, All Bingo Body Parts Bingo Fest: Kiss, AND 100 Fandom Hell: The Cleveland Show
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She'd been such an idiot when she was younger, Donna thinks as she watches the new man in her life from underneath her large, black eyelashes. He isn't really new; he's her oldest and best friend come back, the man she should have chosen. Cleveland had always been there for her. When Robert had not been, when Robert had been but had only wanted her for sex or to show off to his friends, Cleveland had always been there. He had genuinely cared for her not just for her body but for her mind and about her joy. He had made her laugh when no one else could have, when no one else had even tried to. He had made her happy, and if she had ever once pulled away from Robert and offered him a date or a kiss, he would have gone not just to her but for her in an instant.

She'd been a fool to spend so many years wasting away on Robert. She had forgotten how to laugh until Cleveland had walked back into her life. The smiles he's been giving her since that very afternoon seem almost out of character to her these days. He's making her feel a wide array of feelings that she'd thought she'd never feel again. Most of all, he's making her feel wanted again, wanted for herself, cared for for herself, needed not because he needs a woman to take care of him but because he needs her.

Why hadn't she seen this all before? she wonders not for the first time while watching him tussle with the boys. It had started with just a friendly romp between him and Cleveland Junior -- his son really does look so much like him --, but they've actually managed to pull her baby, Rallo, into their play. He's cussing and dropping f-bombs left and right, but she hasn't seen his dark eyes shine with such light in... well, she realized, pulling herself up to a short and sudden stop, ever. She blinks rapidly at that realization, her eyes suddenly becoming tinged with moisture.

Robert wasn't just bad for her, she has to accept. He was also bad for her children, and in the short time Cleveland has been back in her life, he's made Roberta come home on time and is actually getting Rallo to play. She's also noticed that he's fantastic with his own son, Cleveland Junior. He never calls Cleveland Junior on his weight, and he's been there for the boy throughout everything they've gone through because of his own ex. What kind of woman, Donna wonders, not only throws a good man away, but her own son too? She'd like to have a few words, and many slaps, with that Loretta woman!

But if Loretta had not thrown Cleveland away, he would not be here for her now. He would not have brought such happiness back into her life. He's going to leave, she knows, and she hates the idea of it. They came close to kissing the other night, stopping just short of it when her miscreant daughter had actually come home, shockingly, on time and not pregnant. She hasn't laughed that much in one night since... well, since Cleveland had been in her life before when they'd both been teenagers. She hasn't been that happy, and hasn't felt so much hope, since all those years ago, and her children have never felt such emotions, she realizes now, watching the three guys before her, each of whom is precious to her in his own right. No wonder she's been having such a terrible time trying to get them to do right -- Cleveland is a wonderful father, and a wonderful man, and Robert is, well...

He's horrible, she knows, but when Cleveland, who is the true winner and a definite keeper (if only she had known that before!) leaves her, she's not going to have much choice in letting him come back into her home, her family, and her heart. She felt so lonely after Cleveland left her the last time. (She recalls even feeling a bit broken hearted and full of dread on the very day of her wedding to Robert, now that she's finally being honest with herself!) How is she ever going to recover this time? She'd only thought she'd loved Robert before. She had convinced herself of the fact, because he had seemed the only man willing to wed her and give her an actual life.

But what kind of life had she had with him? She vividly recalls being afraid of him at times when he'd drank too much. He had hit Rallo once even, so it's no wonder her baby feels like he has to be such a hard, crass man even though he's still in diapers. What had he done to Roberta? Fear grips her heart at that sudden, unexpected though. She needs to have a talk with her daughter, but Roberta doesn't talk to her. Both of her children have shut her away.

Yet... What is she supposed to do when Cleveland inevitably leaves? Robert is their father after all, and they clearly need a dad. Maybe the fact that she actually did finally leave him will make him shape up and be the husband she's always wanted him to be and the father their children have always deserved. Maybe he'll finally be there for them all. Maybe he will actually evoke the feelings in her that her best friend growing up did then and has been doing again since he first showed up back in her life. Donna gasps with pain as she remembers the swell of hope and excitement she'd felt that day he'd stuck his head into the principal's office. She had been desperate to keep him from walking back out of her life; her head hanging, her gasp having gone unheard because of the boys' riotous shouts, Donna admits to herself that she is still just as desperate.

She doesn't want him to leave, but she can't keep him. He's spoken of his dream for so many years, not just this time but before too. A good friend does not stand in the way of a friend achieving their dream. She can't keep him here. It wouldn't be fair to him, wouldn't be fair to pin him down with kids that aren't his or to expect him to fix her life that she has allowed another man to screw up beyond repair.

Only... it isn't without repair. He's proven that to her in the short time he's been here. He's proven that he can still make her laugh and that he can make her feel hope, joy, and desirable again. He's already turned her life around, but the day he leaves, it's going to all come crashing back down again. Robert's going to come back. She chose him then, like the fool she'd been, and she's going to have to choose him again. She's seen Cleveland work miracles with their children in a short time; maybe, she can find a way to work a miracle with their father again. She owes it to the kids.

Tears are brimming in her eyes, almost flooding down her cheeks. Donna sniffles and looks quickly around when the door opens. No one's seen her tears. She can still escape. She can still pretend like everything is fine and that her world isn't threatening to be ripped out from under her again, just like it had whenever she'd allow herself to consider Cleveland as a possible suitor all those years ago only to hear him talking about his desire to leave her hometown, to chase the same dream he'd been chasing the day he showed back up in her life. It's not fair to him to keep him from that dream.

But it isn't fair to her to lose him again. She sniffles as Roberta walks into the room, but no one's looking at her. Roberta does seem to glance her way, but if she sees her mother's tears, she clearly doesn't care as she looks away and sneers at the boys playing on the floor. "You're a grown man," she accuses Cleveland.

He's a grown and wonderful man, Donna thinks. She was an idiot. Loretta's an idiot. The man she chose over him, the man she'd known would stay in this town where her family's always been, and the man Loretta left her husband for are also idiots. They're losers. They're never going to deserve a good woman as much as Cleveland does. Loretta wasn't good enough for him. Donna knows she, too, isn't good enough. No woman she knows deserves a man as kind-hearted as Cleveland Brown.

"You're never too old to have fun! Are you, Cleveland Junior?" Cleveland asks his child, tickling his big, round belly. Rallo again attempts to make a breakout of their tussle, but Cleveland's quick, dark fingers tickle him all over. Her baby caves to actual, genuine, ecstatic, and joyful laughter even as Donna wonders again how on Earth Loretta had just thrown her husband and son away. That woman didn't deserve to breathe!

"Hey! Don't look at me!" Rallo protests, his high-pitched words punctuated by fits of giggles. "If I'm stuck in this mess, woman, so are too!"

Roberta squeaks as her little brother grabs her ankle and causes her to fall on top of Cleveland and the boys. They could be such a wonderful family, Donna thinks sorrowfully. If only Cleveland could stay, or they could go with him. But that wouldn't be fair to him or her children. His dream is across the nation -- it might as well be another whole world --, and her children's lives, her life, such as it is, is here.

Roberta's seething with protests. Her children are starting to argue vehemently again. But Donna doesn't hear them. She suddenly can't hear anything. But then she notices, through the tears filling her big, dark eyes, that Cleveland is gazing up at her. His mustache is twitching with his emotions. She knows in an instant that he doesn't understand why she's crying and that he is the only one in the room who sees her tears. She wipes them quickly away. He looks at her questioningly, tilting his handsome head to the side as the kids continue to argue. She shakes her head. He isn't the reason for her tears. Her own foolishness and bad choices are. He is instead the only reason why she's felt any happiness for so very long now.

Cleveland tugs on his own mustache. He wiggles half of it at her, the other half staying still, in a trick she's never seen another man do, a trick she hasn't seen him do since they were kids. She sniffs, and a quick bark of laughter escapes her now hoarse throat. All three looks up at her, but Donna shakes her head at them. "Stop fighting!"

"He tripped me!" Roberta protests.

"Because he wanted you in on the fun, Roberta. You're children! You're supposed to have fun!" And she, and they, are supposed to be feel happiness, joy, and love. Her eyes return to Cleveland's as Rallo dares to tickle his sister's ribs. She caves at that unexpected touch and her mother's sharp words, and actually laughs. He tickles her more, and she giggles more, until both the boys are tickling her.

All the while, Donna's still gazing into Cleveland's deep, brown, and beautiful eyes, and everything in her is aching for her to actually voice, Please stay with me. Please stay.

A big, banging knock comes on her door, shattering the moment. Donna doesn't want to move. She knows who's on the other side. She doesn't want to open that door. She doesn't want to let him back into her life, into her heart. She desperately wants Cleveland to stay in both places; she wants this moment and visit to never, ever end. But he's already getting up and moving toward the door. Donna lets him, stepping to the side, her head hanging with sorrow he doesn't see or, at least, doesn't understand, sorrow, however, that he himself feels the moment he opens the door of the woman of his dreams and finds her ex standing there.

He glowers at him but moves aside for the other man to come in to where he belongs. After all, she has always been his woman. She has always chosen him over Cleveland, who only has silly jokes to offer her, no money. She always will -- their past has taught him that --, no matter how much this alcoholic, bullying punk doesn't deserve her and never will. But she's made her choice, and besides, her children are his, not Cleveland's. Cleveland hangs his head and lets the other man in.

The End

Her Brightest Point

2022-06-30T21:45:46Z

Title: Her Brightest Point
Original (or) Fandom: Wonder Woman
Rating: G/K
Notes: Diana hides.

They've never known her, Diana thinks, snapping the newest Daily Planet. They never will, no matter how many lifetimes she spends defending them.

She supposes it does all work out for the better. Clark needs her defense as well, and if pretending to be courted by him will help his real relationship stay out of the paper, Diana supposes it's a light task for an actual friend. Besides, it keeps them from knowing her pain, her true love, the brightest zenith of not just her career but her very life. It allows her beloved Steve to rest in peace.

The End

His Heart, His World

2022-06-30T21:44:57Z

Title: His Heart, His World
Dedicated To: <3 J <3
Fandom: Step By Step
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Rich/Dana, JT/Sam
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Rich knows he's lucky, no matter what anybody else thinks.
Word Count: 1262
Written For: FFFC June Amnesty: r22.07: Pottery and P (Pottery), and 100 Fandom Hell: Step By Step
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

He loves this. He's come to find a certain pleasure in creating things from nothing, not only because of the fact that it's one of many things he can do to make the world a little better and bring smiles to the people for whom he cares about who actually, genuinely care about him unlike his parents and especially his father, but also because he's able to create them with her. It gives him a reason to hold her close, in his lap even, no matter who's watching, and they can create together, just like, he hopes, one day they will create a child together. He knows he or she will be a beautiful baby, because the woman whose love now blesses him daily is a beautiful, remarkable, and amazingly intelligent woman. Every day, he wonders how she can love him, and every day, he expects that love to come to a screeching, screaming halt.

He knows he doesn't deserve Dana. There's no way he can. He's too stupid, and although he may be a little cute -- he's dimples and rich, black hair go a long way in helping his appearance --, he'll never be the level of handsome she deserves. There are times he can't believe he used to tease her, but of course, way back in Kindergarten when boys first begin to get over the fact that girls may have contagious "cooties", they first start showing them more interest by teasing them more. His teasing had gone beyond that -- he'd joined in with the rest of the idiots in their school.

He'll never forget that, or quite forgive himself, and he knows all that much luckier because Dana has been able to look pass his stupidity to the hurting guy within his tough shell. She was the first one to actually see the boy who wanted to learn, who wanted to create things, who wanted to be more than he was born to be and more than his parents have been or would ever expect, or want, him to be. Dana has no idea how lucky she is to have her family, even the buffoons among them like JT, who's even worse than he was before she allowed him to kiss her for the first time, but Rich knows very well. There's a reason he spends way more time at the Lamberts than he does at his own family's house; he feels more welcome by her family than he ever has by his.

They really are wonderful people, and Rich knows their child will be lucky too. It doesn't matter what his folks think. Heck, his dad can barely be bothered to pull himself out of his bottles for any reason; a grandchild isn't going to change any of that. Equally, it doesn't matter what their school thinks; any of the buffoons who tease him for "having the hots for Barky" don't know how stupid they're being or how incredibly lucky Rich is or they would be if they would open their eyes and see the fascinating beauty before them.

So what if his girl doesn't parade around like the cheerleaders do? That only means that he can be reassured that no one else will see the treasures that are his. Heck, he still hasn't seen them all! But right now, holding her like this, he can feel them. He can also feel her chest rising and falling with her soft, concentrated breathing and her heart beating almost, it seems, in rhythm to his. The clay spins in their hands, but he barely notices the shape they're making. It's a heart, he realizes, glancing down, but more than that, it's the shape his girl, his woman as she would correct him, has chosen.

A heart, to represent them. A heart that he will keep forever until they are old and gray and eventually gone from this world. A heart that, even if she wisens up to the mistake she's making with him one horrible day, he will still never cease to keep and hold dear to his own, physical heart. A heart that represents all the words that he would like to speak to her but lacks the wisdom and style to do so. A heart that will be the first decoration he'll put in that home he wants to one day buy her.

He has so little to offer her, but there is so much he wants to give her. The woman in his arms deserves the whole world, or at least all the good things in it. Even all the good things, though, all the beautiful things throughout the world cannot begin to compare to how wonderful she is. And yet, Rich laments, he has so little to offer her. One day, she's going to realize the mistake she's making with him, and that she can do so very much better.

Tears are beginning to well in his dark eyes when Dana's soft whisper breaks through his reverie, "Rich? I love you."

"I love you more," he whispers quickly and fervently, realizing that the hesitation in her voice means she's told him so already and he failed to hear her. He failed her again, but one day, he's going to find a way to never fail her again. He's going to find a way to give her everything she deserves. He needs to get closer to her father. Frank has a booming business. Rich has never been a hammer-and-nails kind of guy, but it's time he learned. It's time he learned whatever skills he can use to give this wonderful woman everything he should.

"I love you too," he whispers again as Dana spins the pottery in their hands. The heart really is shaping up nicely. It's going to be beautiful, but nothing could be as beautiful as their love or the blessing that she is to him. Knowing how much she enjoys his touch, one of her favorite spots, and the fact that their PDAs make her feel beautiful and wanted, especially when they're done in front of the world as she once confessed to him late at night when he'd been carefully nursing her all day from a cold, Rich leans in and nuzzles her ear. Dana jerks against him in surprise as he unexpectedly runs his tongue over the inside of her ear, and then she sighs, melting thoroughly in his loving embrace, as he nibbles her lobe.

He can hear snickering beyond the classroom door, but those stupid jocks and nerds don't bother him. Their opinions don't matter in the slightest. The woman whose opinion means the world to him is right here in his arms. Nobody and nothing else matters.

But he is surprised to hear the voice of his other best friend, the guy who, at one time, had been hit with jealousy because he'd thought he'd lost his friend to his sister, who he claimed to barely be able to stand. "You guys are idiots!" JT barks at their classmates. Shaking his head, he walks away. He's got to find a way to get Sam enrolled in pottery classes!

Rich gives a mental chuckle, then returns all his attention to the woman who has become everything to him. "I love you," he whispers again in her ear where only she can hear and holds her closer and nibbles more deeply, but still gently, into her ear. Dana's right -- there is something to be said for still attending a class without a teacher, who happens to be out sick today, after all.

The End

Safe

2022-06-30T21:44:07Z

Title: Safe
Dedicated To: <3 The one who keeps me safe, my J <3
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Xander/Anya
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: It's okay for her to trust this human, Anya believes.
Word Count: 1171
Written For: FFFC June Amnesty: r22.08: (Easter) Bunny and r22.09: Unforeseen, 1 Million Words A to Z: M (Married Life)
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

Men, despite what they claim, are not able to keep a woman safe. Women should never rely on a man for anything. Anya has known this for what feels like her entire existence, even though there was a time when she had not. There had been a time when she had been young, foolish, and naiive. There had been a time when she had been just as foolish as all the other, truly young girls running through Sunnydale, all that prey so apt to fall easily for a Vampire or Demon. There had been a time when she, too, had thought that the sun rose and set in one single man, who had ended up destroying her heart, shattering her soul, and effectively making her embrace evil.

She still questions sometimes if what she did was truly evil, but she'll never tell her fiance or his friends that. She knows better. Demons are evil, pure and simple. Even the re-ensouled Spike is evil, no matter how many times he helps Buffy and her Scooby friends save the world. Anya's glad she's managed to pull Xander out of some of that. She wishes she could pull him away more. She wishes she could convince him to leave this Hellmouth, especially when it's so close to all the things she used to be and darkness she used to embrace, the darkness she knows that he will leave her for if she ever does embrace it again. She wishes they could go somewhere where it was just the two of them and live their lives.

But she knows any thought of actually making that happen, of actually sweeping him out of this Hellmouth town as long as those two, Buffy and Willow, are around, is just another daydream that will never come true. It's completely futile. Her man, little boy that he can be at times, is too wrapped up in them. She knows they're only friends -- she has nothing to fear of any chance of them taking her bethrothed --, but she also knows he'll never leave them. In a way, as annoying as that fact is, it's also one of the many reasons why she loves him.

Tomorrow is an awful day, Anya reflects, shuddering into Xander's bare shoulder. Even in his sleep, his strong arms, which are growing more muscular with every day he works in the construction business, wrap more tightly around her, as if to tell her, of their own accord, that he will protect her. She shouldn't be looking to a man for safety -- it goes against everything she's been taught to believe --, but she does. He is her happiness, the one reassuring aspect of her life that reminds her that she doesn't have to be evil to be strong and not be hurt. She doesn't have to worry about humans hurting her or, worse, the tiny, terrifying monsters that will be everywhere tomorrow.

They know what's coming tomorrow, Anya thinks again, yet they think it's all in fun. One day, these people will meet some of the creatures she has seen, some of the things that look fluffy and cute yet are so diabolical. They're so quick to tell her that wrecking vengeance for all those broken hearts was evil. They're still quick to accuse Spike of being evil, even though she's not seen him do anything actually bad in almost a year. Yet they raise up the truly wicked things. They give their children images of evil and tell them it's all cute fun in the form of a holiday, a holiday, Anya knows, comes from a Pagan fertility ceremony, something millions of these humans would never dare celebrate openly if they only understood it.

But they convince themselves that evil is good. They fall in love with Vampires, Witches, and Demons. They celebrate anger and violence. Truly, she's come across some humans who are more evil than several of the Demons she's encountered in the past. She thinks of Clem, and of Spike, and of herself, and then she considers the men whose hearts she stopped, whose souls she sent to where they belonged.

These people think they know evil, but they couldn't be more wrong. She'll find a way to protect her man, though, and make certain he doesn't indulge too much in all the horrors they lift up and celebrate. He may be determined to only be a construction worker in the Hellmouth and help his friends when he could do so very much more, but she'll watch over him. She'll protect him from true evil, from his friends, even from himself when he has to. She'll protect him, and he too, Anya knows, gazing adoringly up at his sleeping face, will protect her, or do his very best to do so.

He won't hurt her. He's too gentle a lamb, too good a man. Alexander Lavelle Harris truly does possess one of the kindest, most generous, and most loving souls she's ever been blessed to know. Blessed? The thought stops her in surprise, and she gives a slight, unconscious jerk. But yes, she is blessed to have him, to know him, to love him, -- she glances down at her ring that gleams in the late, silver moonlight slipping through their curtains -- to be becoming, in a few more months, Mrs. Alexander Lavelle Harris. She beams at the thought. Yes, she truly is blessed!

Xander will protect her. She can trust him, with her heart, her soul, her whole being. She kissed his cheek, her grin growing as his beard hairs tickle her mouth. She's glad he's letting his hair grow out a bit more, although she knows he'll cut it the moment someone says something about it. She sighs. She truly does wish he would listen to her more and them less.

But he does love her, and that's really all she needs in this horrific world. He loves her, and he will do all he can to protect her, even to the point of dying. He'll keep her safe, and he'll never hurt. He'll never leave her at the alter like she was left before. He'll always be here for her, until he no longer can be and dies of old age. She is loved, loved at long last. It's okay to trust this human, to feel reassured that this strong, honorable, and wonderful man will always protect her.

Anya snuggles back down into Xander's arms after giving him another kiss and closes her eyes at last. It doesn't matter what horrors will come tomorrow, or the next month, or next month, or even a dozen years from now. He will always protect her, even from the bunnies that will be hopping around wildly tomorrow on this bloody Easter holiday. Despite the terrors to come, the former Vengeance Demon falls asleep with a smile still lighting her beautiful, peaceful face, and in their sleep, the lovers hold each other close as they dream of the married life yet to come to them.

Never Weak

2022-06-30T21:43:17Z

Title: Never Weak
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Drusilla, Spike/Nikki, Spike/Buffy
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary: Spike's having those thoughts again, but he knows better.
Word Count: 1193
Written For: Nekid Spike, 1 Million Words A to Z: N (Nikki), and 100 Fandom Hell: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She was beautiful and graceful. She would have made a wonderful, passionate lover if things had been different, if their lives had been different. Spike slung a shot of whiskey down his throat. He didn't need to be thinking like this. Such thoughts, such prose, was dangerous. The poetry should have died with his mortality. Yet, still sometimes, like now, it threatened to come back. Besides that, he had a wonderful, dark Princess waiting for him at home, a Princess who would be thrilled and proud of him when he brought her another Slayer home. She'd quickly forget about the Great Poof when she had this dangerous, strong, and proud woman as a slave who they, together, would reduce to begging for her life.

He'd heard this Slayer, oddly enough, had a son. He pushed the thought from his mind. It was rumors. It had to be. Slayers didn't have family or friends, let alone children. They were even more lone creatures than the Vampires. At least Vampires had clans, and a few of them, such as himself and the other three of the Fanged Four, did group together. They became a family of sorts. Spike smiled as he slipped onto the back of the subway train. Darla would be proud of him too for bringing this one home. Finally, he'd get some of his own just rewards, and Angel would again be the outcast, the whelp that he was. He'd be the one begging and pleading, struggling to do badder and bigger things, for attention.

These thoughts had been supposed to die, he reflected again, when his mortality had died. Not only the poetry had been supposed to stop, but so, too, should have the feelings of inferiority, the driving need to prove himself to somebody, to prove that he was worthy of love. Vampires didn't need love. They were creatures of the dark, Demons who fed off of the living. Besides, they didn't need to struggle for power; when they were reborn, they were given, with their new lives, more power than any bloke living could ever attain. They were the power, never mind the raw, hungry feelings currently paining his stomach.

He wasn't hungry, Spike told himself, and he wasn't weak. He was strength personified, power supreme. The Slayer might have been a strong girl, but she was just another of an ever growing list. One night, he will have killed them all. He was stand as the head Master Vampire then, and all other Vamps will have to bow to him, including that bloody Poof who his Princess had been lusting after recently. He didn't have to have words, or prose, to prove himself; every body he brought back, especially every Slayer he brought back, just further proved he was the stronger, the more powerful, and better Vampire. He was the one who should be leading their little pack.

Still, she was beautiful, he thought, watching her elegant stride. He had been following her for a week now, biding his time and taking the fact that she had yet to spy him into his pride. It was nice to play with his prey sometimes. Besides, there was a part of him that would love to take this woman as much more than just an opponent on the field of battle. He had imagined, several times now, what it would be like to take her into his bed and ravish her before he killed her, not because he forced himself on her as Angelus would do but rather because she chose him, because she went with him willingly.

He scoffed. He knew he was fooling himself. No Slayer would ever go willingly with a Vampire. Although... There were legends... There were stories that the Slayers were able to weave a natural spell of sorts over their prey, over the Vampires. There was even legend that one such Slayer had bedded many Vampires before waking them with a stake, her beauty lulling their senses to keep themselves safe, to fight her at all costs, and to ultimately overpower her as they should. That's all it was though, he thought, standing on the subway, black-nailed hands wrapped tightly around the slimy pole as he watched Nikki Wood.

Flashes suddenly started darting through his mind. He got them every so often. At times, he'd even considered that he had a gift similar to his Princess, but the images he saw never took actual place. They were just daydreams, or so Darla had told him while his beloved Dru had giggled at him. He'd dared to ask only once when Angelus had been out. When he'd come back, he'd been just in time to see Spike almost blushing and catch his sire laughing at him. He had grinned widely and tried to get them to tell them why they were laughing at William the Not-So Bloody now. Drusilla had spoken wistfully words he'd mistakenly thought were nonsense while Darla, to her credit, Spike admitted if only to himself, had actually changed the topic and not told her favorite pet how silly her other pet was being.

Why? he wondered, not for the first time. Why had she covered for him like that, especially if the images he saw were nothing of importance and only daydreams? Was there perhaps something she was not telling him? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

He felt a tight heat around his legs, but there was no one there. He saw flashes of bright, blonde hair and a beautiful, white face beaming down at him. Red lips parted in deep, panting gasps. Damn!, he thought. He knew it had been a long time since Drusilla had given him what he deserved, but here he was imagining a woman he'd never seen! He wasn't that bad off!

It was time for the kill, he thought. The Slayer would die tonight, or at least be made to bow and become a slave for his favorite, little mistress. Her defeat would bring Dru back to him and fill her dark, beautiful eyes again with love and pride for him. It would shift the power balance among their little, fanged group of four again, and make Angelus the pup he was. It was time for Nikki Wood to die, and die she would sooner or later, no matter how beautiful, graceful, or powerful she was.

Slayers were wonderful beings, he thought, but they were deadly monsters too. None of the humans would admit they were monsters, no more than they would allow to the wickedness of their beloved Council, but Spike knew better. He'd seen Vampire children be staked by Slayers before, and he'd heard true tale of many a nest of Vampires who woke to a surprise battle they stood no chance of surviving. Slayers were wicked, conniving little beasts destined and dedicated to wipe out their kind. They had to be dealt with as such. Spike slipped, with even less sound than a shadow, after his prey, leaving his daydreams and prose alike behind. Both were for the weak, and he'd never be weak again, blonde girls and Slayers notwithstanding.

The End

Hot Bed

2022-06-30T21:42:25Z

Title: Hot Bed
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Paige
Rating: G/K
Summary: Citizens in a small town are trapped.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Anything Drabble 245: Hot
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She couldn't remember another Summer being so hot, but then her Summers were never normal. She never got to rest like the other kids in school. There might not be much to do in their area, but at least they could go to the creek, go biking, or sleep under the apple trees in old man Mason's orchard. The old guy had been a lot more understanding ever since his kid had been killed in another of the mining accidents. She hated those mines, hated that they took so many of the lives of the people in her town. Paige had watched so many people, not just her beloved poppa, slave away their lives in those mines. They were the same excruciating, toiling deaths that awaited herself and her brothers.

Or at least they had been. Sam had gotten out, thank God, and she was going to too. She set down her basket of corn and wiped sweat from her brow. They had escaped. So many people viewed their mutations as curses, but the Guthries knew they were blessings. Paige had begged God to give her powers when she'd seen that they had helped her brother to escape the fates that awaited them in this small, grueling town. Now that she had her powers, though, she couldn't help wishing just as fervently that her little brothers and sisters, all those for whom she toiled away not just in the Summertime when she could help their ma more but throughout the whole year, would also receive powers themselves. After all, fighting for a world that hated and feared you because you were different was a far cry better than just fighting to be able to survive.

It seemed like as fast as she could wipe sweat away, more beads fell in its place. She wished she could just go swimming too -- she'd like to be able not just to cool off in the water but also to actually play with her siblings --, but being able to help her ma more meant that her mother could go earn some money during these few months while Paige was out of school. She'd thought often of just going ahead and quitting school, but her mother was determined that she get an education, as though any degree could pry her free of this darn place.

She felt layers of flesh coming off at the touch of her sticky fingers and brought the skin down to look at it. She saw tidbits that looked like armadillo, snake, and diamonds, but as they sparkled in the scorching sunlight, she found herself praying again. Lord, please help us all escape. Not just me. Not just Sammy. All of us. Set us free please!! She hefted her load back up and continued her trek, never knowing, dreaming, or fearing she'd be repeating the same journey thirty years in the future, when she had to yet again come back to the Guthrie farm when her cherished momma passed.

The End

Teams

2022-06-30T21:41:47Z

Title: Teams
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike+Faith, Spike/Buffy, Angel+Faith, past Spike/Faith
Rating: Light PG-13/T
Summary: Spike and Faith are teamed together... much to their chagrin.
Word Count: 960
Written For: Nekid Spike Paired Up: Spike/Faith (sorry, bit ventured away from that but there is definitely the past and possibility herein) and Dove Drabbles 104: Give them something to talk about!
Warnings: Future Ficlet
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

"We could give them a reason to talk," Faith remarks nonchalantly as she steps along beside Spike. They've climbed to the top of a dune, and she almost skips off of it as they descend.

She's trying almost too hard to act like their mission isn't bothering her; he'd noticed that the moment they'd embarked on their journey and knew it wasn't because of the trek to and over the beach. No, it had everything to do with Buffy deciding to team them up while pairing herself with Angel. Spike watched her with a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. The once-rogue Slayer seemed almost as bothered by those two cozying up together than he was, but he knew she no longer felt anything romantic toward either. He didn't think she'd ever liked the Great Poof like that before, but she, just like both of the Vampires, had fallen for Buffy before. He couldn't blame her; the girl had a way about her that not only proved consistent in saving the world but also seemed to make her the glorious, most radiant choice for almost everyone, it seemed, that crossed her path. Hell, at least half her friends had had the hots for her at one time or another.

"Jealous much?" he teased the dark-haired beauty moving stealthily beside him. He grinned, his fangs flashing in the moonlight.

"Who? Me? Never!" She flashed him a wide smile. They'd stopped trying to fool each other some years ago but had settled instead into a strange kind of understanding and almost even camaraderie. "They just... They're being careless. B can't keep her head in the game while she's too focused on A."

"A, huh? When'd you start calling the Great Poof that?"

When he chose to be on Team Buffy again, she thought but didn't voice those words aloud. She lifted her muscular, bare shoulders in a shrug meant to appear casual instead. "I just think they're being foolish. You've seen them together. They're like puppies in love."

"Aren't we all?" Spike muttered.

"What?" She turned, curiously, to face him. There was a storm blowing in to the shore, and the rising wind tugged at her long, black hair.

She was beautiful, Spike thought, and she was wild in the bed -- a girl who, at one time, he would have chased after hard --, but she just didn't glow the way Buffy did. The sight of her enticed him and made him hard with longing. He knew, from experience, the things she was capable of in the sack, but that was all Faith was good for as far as he was concerned. She was a powerful fighter and a better love, but Buffy... Hell, he'd fought to get his soul back to try to make himself worthy of that Slayer, one of his many sacrifices that she had never, and would never, appreciate. He wasn't the bloody great Poof after all.

"We're all bitches in heat," he snapped angrily. The wind shifted. His bleached blonde head lifted, and he sniffed. His eyes narrowed and flashed on yellow as his forehead protruded, shifting his handsome face into his Demonic, game face. He reached quickly into his black duster and withdrew two stakes. "Finally," he growled. "Play mates!" He jumped off of the dune and ran toward the cave where the nest of fledgling surfer Vampires thought they were about to start their dinner.

Faith followed quickly, but the look on Spike's face had not gone amiss on her. Maybe she could talk to Willow or Giles and make the other two split their team. Spike had fought hard to win Buffy's affections, and she'd actually confessed she thought she might be falling in love with him before Angel had come sweeping back into their lives. Besides, she was supposed to be Angel's right side! It was bad enough that the cheerleader had upstaged her, but Cordy had offered Angel one set of talents, something Faith had never been inclined to do with the pale boy scout. She could understand him chasing after Chase -- she smirked at herself --, but nobody had ever had his back like she had.

Nobody had ever had her back like he had. The wood in her hands felt good, warm, and solid. It was reassuring to think that their mission was easy, something she was as accustomed to doing as just walking, eating, and talking. They'd blaze through this nest in a matter of minutes, but it would be more fun than work. A and B were supposed to be going after the Big Bad tonight. They weren't supposed to attack him, only figure out his hiding spot, but Faith knew too well how plans like that tended to go. They should have all four went, or at least she should be the one paired with Angel and Spike with B. They worked better that way.

She'd definitely have to talk to the Watchers, but for now, she threw herself into the action. Violence was as reassuring to her as kids found blankets and stuffed animals to be. Hell, like the tale she'd heard of the Slayer who had preceded her, her stake was almost her stuffed toy. She soon found her back pressed against Spike's as they dusted Vamp after Vamp. They worked well together, but still, she deserved to have Angel at her back.

And honestly, he deserved B. He'd fought for his soul, and he'd been with her through so much. Faith knew well of B's dark side, and she knew Spike had suffered at her hands and mouth. He'd suffered, and like most of them, he'd come back for more. She smirked. She guessed the Nibblet was right: She was Team Spike after all.

The End

The Fall

2022-06-30T21:40:34Z

Title: The Fall
Dedicated To: <3 Bowie <3
Fandom: Labyrinth
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Jareth, Trely, Hoggle, Didymus
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: The end has come.
Word Count: 1593
Written For: GenPrompts Bingo: In the Tunnels/Under the Ground
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

He is tired, so very tired. The thought of closing his eyes, and of finally never reopening them, would be appealing, if it was not for all the beings currently in the room with him, if it was not for the fact that he knows they will be left vulnerable and unprotected when he leaves this world. He has fought for so long to leave this wretched world, but now when he thinks of going, all he can think is of the loyal subjects he is leaving behind.

He thinks of Trely, who even now is polishing his boots, boots that they all know he will never wear again. The little Goblin thinks he does not remember her from his youth, but she is wrong. He has never forgotten the tender, if wrinkled and green hand, that had rocked his cradle, or the fact that she'd been the only one who would deign to play with the human baby as he had grown. She had been the only thing he had ever known akin to an actual mother, akin to family.

The Goblins could be considered his brothers and sisters. In any other land, they would be. But Jareth knows they are far more like children than anything else, children who, like himself, were never wanted and never normal, children who will be left open to all the attacks that will undoubtedly come when he finally takes his last breath.

Dying should be freedom, but it is not. He spent his entire life trying to leave this place by any means necessary, but now that his life, which they'd once thought Immortal, is finally coming to a close, well over five thousand years later... All he can think is of his failures. He should have done more here, should have done more for his people instead of always constantly trying to leave them. He should have saved them, should have made it to where they will be able to stand on their own when he is long gone.

There are a few here who can fight. The leader of the Fieries clan is nearby, but even those wild and silly creatures to have lost their desire to party. His death will be a party, Jareth knows, but not the kind that many would think. His enemies will party, and yes, the Fieries will party too. Some of his Goblins will be swept into that frolicking, but that will be a far better future for them than those who remain loyal and actually grieve for him. With him gone, they will fall with the Labyrinth. No matter what species takes it over, from the Fae to the Orcs, they will be destroyed along with his palace.

They do not stand a chance. He knows that horrible truth, and it grieves him deeply. There are a few warriors here, a few who will not go the way of the Fieries or the Goblins. With no one to lead them, however, no King and no girl who should have been his Queen, they will be defeated. Their deaths will follow his as well, and the more heroically they fight, the more tragic their deaths will be.

His ringed fingers flex as he tries, and fails, to speak. He needs to say something. He needs to leave them with some rich, regal words of wisdom meant to inspire when he is gone. They need sage advice; yet, as always, the most sage advice he can give them is to run, like he spent his entire miserable existence trying to do.

He tried so hard. He tried to find her, the one destined to break his curse and to become an actual Queen to his people. He tried to find her. There had been one girl, one in all the hundreds to come through this underground land in the thousands of years he sought his Queen, who he had thought had been the One. He had courted her with every trick he knew, and he'd watch over her even after she had fought off his every attempt, denied him at every turn and word, until she had finally taken her last breath in her mortal shell. He had not found her ghost or her reincarnated self, though he had tried.

He had tried so hard to convince her to be his Queen, and she had actually cared for his people, which had been the greatest reason of all that he had believed that she had been the One. Perhaps she had, and perhaps he had failed. Perhaps he had failed her, his people, and even himself. Perhaps he had failed them all, and that failure was what had led him here, empty and alone though in a throne room filled with other beings, on his death bed.

Tears pricked his regal eyes, but as always, Jareth was determined not to cry. He closed his eyes tightly against the building pressure, and was finally able to make his fingers flex. Trely gasped and immediately stopped rubbing his leather boots with her old rag. Didymus' eyebrows arched up underneath his crown, not the meager, plastic crown that he'd gotten from the girl but rather from the real crown with which Jareth had rewarded him for his bravery some decades ago. Hoggle, standing closest of all, twisted his old, gnarled hands until Jareth could hear his ancient bones snapping.

That was what finally gave him the strength to open his eyes. He and Hoggle had had a love-hate relationship for so many centuries. Yet, in the end, the old Dwarf had proved himself the most loving and loyal of all of the Goblin King's subjects. "Come," he commanded weakly, and Hoggle hurried closer to the bed. Jareth crooked a finger at his Knight, and Sir Didymus galloped forward on his own legs, Ambrosious still cowering in a far corner.

Both bowed low. Sir Didymus swept his feathered cap off of his furry head and crushed it to his small chest as he remained bowed. "If I could," he yipped sorrowfully, "I would gladly take your place, Sire."

"You must."

Hoggle's bushy brows shot up in surprise, but Didymus did not hesitate to come closer still, all while remaining bowed. He reached out, dared to take Jareth's dangling hand in both his front paws, and pressed his head to the back of his hand. "I will gladly."

"It is not what you think."

Hoggle gulped and nodded. This was what he had been afraid of, not that Jareth wanted them to die for him. (Even when the girls who had tread through the labyrinth after saying the words had failed to save them, Jareth had always come through for them in the end, at the very last moments of the spell when he knew his curse would allow him.) Their King wanted them to do something for him that they could not do; he wanted to give something they did not possess. Hoggle tore his small, brown cap off of his head and crumpled it in his hands.

"Whatever our King wishes -- " Sir Didymus started to yip.

Hoggle grunted. "We'll do our best," he said, though already knowing it would never be enough. They could not stop all the armies that would come the moment they heard the Goblin King was no more. They wanted the magic, the power, and the land of their kingdom, and they would kill anyone who dared stand in their way.

"You know we're -- " he started to say, but stumbled for words. Their King lay dying before them, and despite all the times he and Jareth had waged war, the old man was still his best friend. How could he disappoint him when he knew he had only a few breaths left in his shallow body? How could he fight him even now? Why couldn't they just die for him? But they would, he realized suddenly, just not yet. He bowed so low that his round, red nose almost touched the palace floor. "We will die trying, Your Majesty."

Jareth reached out and patted the top of Hoggle's head, something the old Dwarf would have greatly protested at any other time. "That is all," he whispered, his voice again beginning to fail him, "I can ask." Blood spattered out as his aching ribs yearned to be able to catch more oxygen. "I never... found you a Queen," he spoke apologetically and had to stop himself from whimpering. His eyes were closed again, though he did not recall the precise moment when he had shut them. "I leave the two of you... in charge." He gasped out the last two words.

Every being leaned forward as their King grew still, but Jareth struggled to do more, as he always had. His hand moved from the top of Hoggle's head to Didymus'. He scratched him between his ears, and the Knight did whimper when his King's hand moved. With one last great effort, Jareth reached out to Trely, scooped her from her duties on the cold, stone floor, and lifted her on top of his wheezing chest.

"Kingie, don't -- " she tried to say, but Jareth's hands touched her gently. The Goblins drew in a collective, shocked breath. They had never seen him be so gentle!

He pressed a finger to her lips, then stroked her tiny, green head. "Help them," he whispered. "Help each other." And then he was gone, as wails shot up around the castle and throughout the entire, instantly grieving land.

The End

From This Moment On

2022-06-25T17:27:50Z

Title: From This Moment On
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Gambit/Rogue (Romy), Mystique
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary: It's the first night of the rest of their lives, and nothing else matters.
Word Count: 1486
Written For: GenPrompt Bingo: Round 22: A Brief Encounter is Pivotal
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She isn’t sure where they are. That thought runs through her mind as she curls into a strange, big bed. There are times when such comforts still feel strange to her. Stranger still, is to think that she is about to be joined in the bed by her husband and she can actually do things with her man. She can actually be kissed by him and kiss him. She can actually love him. She does actually love Remy LeBeau, and she has for quite a long time now. That love was part of the reason why she’d ran so hard for so long from him; after all, for most of her life, a simple touch from her, the barest touch, has been fated to be a killing touch.

But she can and does control her powers now... her gift? Dare she actually begin to think of her mutant power as an actual blessing now? Mystique and Charles both always tried so hard to convince her that it was not a curse, that she was not a curse, but she had never dared believe them until she had finally been able to touch Remy, to kiss Remy, and not hurt him, not kill him.

Oddly enough, the very man who led her to being able to control her powers has always been the other greatest contender for her heart, but although she’ll always care for Erik, and always miss Joseph, she’s never loved him like she does Remy. She’s tried for he’s been there for her more often and in deeper ways, at times, than Remy has – Remy's certainly hurt her more too, which is why her mother, her brother, and her best friend really don’t like the fact that they did get hitched today or even that she loves him so --, but she can’t help it. She loves the crazy Cajun. She has for far longer than she’s dared to admit.

Her mind flashes back to before their spontaneous ceremony, to overhearing Bobby and Kurt’s conversation and doing her best to put them both in their places. She knows they meant well. Bobby’s been there for her in ways that not even Magnus has been, and Kurt, though they’ve not really spent a lot of time together as brother and sister, has always been a devoted brother with the best of intentions to protect her. After all, they’d shared an insane mother who had always seemed to want to hurt them, bend them, break them, use them for whatever her nefarious scheme at the moment had been.

That woman had been so unlike the woman she’d seen today. Their interaction had been brief, but she still felt the same amount of astonishment and pure stunnedness, that she had when she had first discovered that Mystique had snuck into her wedding. How had her mother known, especially when Rogue herself had not known? She’d been there to celebrate Kitty getting married to Piotr after all and had certainly not expected the turn their ceremony had taken. No one had expected Kitty to abandon Piotr at the altar, but even more than that, she had never expected Remy to move on to asking her to marry him today instead.

She hadn’t expected the Cajun to ever ask her to marry him, to ever be true to her, but he had been... He had asked her to marry him, and he’d not backed away from putting a ring on her finger. He had been there for her in the last few years far more than she’d ever dared to hope he would. He’s proven himself to her time and again.

It’s past time she stopped running – it has been for a while --, and so she’d said “yes” the moment he’d proposed for today to be their day. She’d said yes, all the while expecting him to still leave her at the altar. After all, what did she really have to offer a man? She was still such a novice, and Remy was so experienced. He could have almost any woman he wanted, but he chose her.

He’s followed her all over the place, she thought, and so has her mother. The hairs on the back of her neck tickle as she thinks again of Mystique. The woman wants something, but whatever it is, she didn’t ask her for it today. Whatever it is, she actually kept her word to her today and stood in reverent, obedient silence as Abigail Brand throughout their entire ceremony. Sure, she’d made one last plea for Rogue to choose a different husband, a suitor of her choosing no doubt, but when Rogue had stauntly refused yet again, she’d given her her word and actually kept it. She’d even seen her applaud, and there had been one time when she’d thought she’d seen a tear fall from her mother’s eye.

She’s getting old, Rogue thinks, old and crazy, just like her adopted mother and her birth ma before her. But they have been through so very much. It makes sense that Mystique could change – after all, Remy’s changed too and in ways she’d long ago stopped hoping could be possible. He’s chased her around the globe. He’s been true even when she’s hurt him. He still came back to her even after she abandoned him in the Arctic. He has done everything he could to earn her hand, her love, and her respect.

Raven certainly hasn’t done that much, not for her, for Kurt, or even for Destiny. Grieving can take decades, Rogue knows. (After all, look at how long she’d been stuck grieving for her old life and her first boyfriend, who truly had not been much more than a puppy crush at the time she’d accidently destroyed his life with her very first, and, she’d sworn at the time, last kiss.) There’s a cycle of grief through which every living being goes, but there is no time limit on any of those cycles. Maybe Raven has finally come to the acceptance stage, and the stage where she can look back at her past with Irene, what she should have done with her wife, and learn from it.

Maybe her mother has come to know better. Maybe she can have her in her life again one day. Maybe she no longer has to expect the absolute worst from Mystique. That brief moment with her before her wedding today touched Rogue’s heart, but what was Raven doing there? She couldn’t have known that she was going to get married. They were all expecting Kitty and Piotr to tie the knot, not herself and LeBeau.

No, she’d had other reasons for being there. She had to have had. It was the only thing that made sense. Rogue will have to figure it out eventually. She’ll have to determine just what her mother is after and stop her yet again. But for now... Tonight is her wedding night, and she can hear Remy’s footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, she remembers what’s traditional for wedding nights, and the fact that she was so ill prepared for her own wedding to take place today. She blushes as Remy emerges from the bathroom, stark naked. He is such a beautiful man, and she has so little to offer him. “Remy, Ah -- “ Her gaze falls shyly to the bed. “Ah’m afraid Ah didn’t pack any -- “

“Hush, chere.” His voice is a gentle, rough, and sensual whisper that alerts every inch of her body and soul instantly. It’s headier than the strongest whisky she’s ever drank, and she’s already pushing her thoughts to the side when he commands of her, “Stop dat. You’re beautiful just de way you are, an’ you’ve given me more reason to be happy dan dis ol’ Cajun ever dought possible.”

He lifts her chin. Rogue beams up at him, at her husband. Her green eyes twinkle as the mere thought still amazes her. She opens her mouth to speak, to try to say something teasing, erotic, and sensual, but his mouth slides over hers, smoothly silencing her and lighting a flame that sparks to her very deepest core.

Her mother wants something, but her mother doesn’t matter tonight. The world doesn’t matter tonight. Even the Dream and their family can wait. Everything else can wait. All that matters is in this room, wherever Remy’s brought them. She suspects somewhere in his home state, but she doesn’t know for certain. That, too, just doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s here, he loves her, she loves him, they have each other forever, and that forever begins anew tonight. They can handle her mother, and anyone and anything else that comes, together. They can handle everything together, Rogue thinks joyously as she welcomes her husband into her arms and their bed, and pledges again all that she has and will ever be to him.

The End

The Turning

2022-06-25T17:27:03Z

Title: The Turning
Fandom: Smallville
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: CLex (Clark/Lex), also mentioned Clark/Lois
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: He will do what he must to save the world.
Word Count: 2142
Written For: GenPrompt Bingo: Round 22: Powerful and Best Friends
Warnings: Dark Future Fic
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

Even after all these years, he still likes to come out to the country sometimes. Not just any wide open area will do if he really wants to feel the old, familiar ease of the tension that rides him every day. It has to be these particular dirt roads, along these particular fields, in this particular small town or, rather, outside of it. It has to be Smallville, Kansas. He has driven out here countless times over the years from Metropolis, but he has also flown here on private jets and had his pilots leave him far out here in places where they certainly questioned not only his safety but his sanity as well.

But Lex Luthor stopped caring about what others thought of him many years ago. He has to maintain a certain public image of course. If he ever appears weak, his enemies -- and although he may not be a hero, he certainly has more than his fair share of them – will take advantage. They will use whatever weakness he exposes to topple his empire, and if his empire topples so, too, will go any chance he has of helping the world actually be saved.

The heroes are losing sight, Lex knows, watching the horses and cows move slowly around in the far pastures. They have been for years now. It’s not easy keeping one’s thoughts set only on saving the world, and sometimes, actually far too often, people are not willing to give whatever they must in order to save others. Even the best of heroes, those who dedicated their every waking moment to saving lives, get relayed in trying to live their own lives.

Clark, for example, rarely receives the help he needs these days, and growing up, he was far too proud to request the assistance he needed. He had almost been as proud as his father, and he had certainly spent a few too many years allowing his pride to rule his life, even if he would no more admit to that fact these days than he had then. His pride had not come in the same form as Jonathan’s, but it had certainly ruled him nonetheless. He had always yearned for acceptance, and it had been in his desperate desire to be accepted as he was that he had allowed society and its views, and especially his parents’ views, to sculpt the man he had become.

He was a superman, and not just because he was the world’s greatest hero. His powers did not make him who he was. His ethics did not make him who he was either, despite what the world thought. Lex’s lips twist in a wry smirk as he reflects over that same world of people who Clark is always so busy trying to appease. They do not know his secrets, not like Lex does. They do not know who he truly is. He isn’t just the hero in whom they all believe so fervently. Despite what the world thinks, Lex knows his true identity. He knows the real man beneath all the masks, not just the bright red and blue outfit. He knows his fears...

And he remembers, and still loves, the boy he was. That same boy who had been so terrified of surrendering to the feelings that had grown so passionately between them was still there, hidden very well underneath so many layers that are there only to appease the people with whom he surrounds himself: his rescuees, his fans whose praise make him feel better about himself no matter what sour decisions he has been forced to make over the years, his small but tight circle of friends whose love of him is so great they would actually accept him for who he is if only he would allow himself to be the man he truly is at heart, and yes, even that horrid Lois Lane he’s married.

The world loves Superman, but Clark’s world loves Clark. They love him for always being there for him over the years. They love him for always saving them, for always giving them whatever they need. Lex tisks in the back of his throat. He does not need love or admiration like that. Clark isn’t the only one to live his life pleasing others in order to be accepted, but there are other ways.

Lex’s fingers tense, his muscles flexing involuntarily. Power is the best way to gain the people’s acceptance, because then their true thoughts do not matter. Power is earned by wealth, not by doing good deeds, and he’s finally accumulated enough wealth and wisdom that he has almost all the power that Clark wields on a daily basis at his fingertips. He could take over the world if he truly wanted, but that is not what he wants.

He and Clark both lost a great deal in the meteor shower that hit this small, sleepy town so many years ago. He had kept his parents, but unlike Clark, he had never felt his father’s love or acceptance. He had always been at war with his father. His mother had actually loved him, or so he seemed to recall. Sometimes he wondered if the fuzzy, warm memories he had of Lillian Luthor had been a careful construct he had built in which to feel better about himself, to feel as though he had actually been loved for himself once in his life, but it didn’t really matter. Whether she had truly loved him or not, she had been taken from him far too early.

Similarly, he had felt the very real pain of knowing he would never be loved again far too early in his life. Only once had he doubted it. Only once had he believed that he might actually one day be loved by some one other than his mother and for something more than what he could do and the fortunes he wielded.

Once, in this very town, he had come to believe in miracles such as that. He had come to believe that he could be loved, that he was loved, and he had even been foolish enough to believe that their love could conquer anything. He and Clark had been the very best of friends, but the passionate bond between them had been far, far greater than friendship. He had never felt as warm, cared for, appreciated, or safe as Clark Kent had made him all those years ago, and none of that had had anything to do with Superman or his powers.

Indeed it had been in Clark’s determination to be a Superman to all that had led him to abandon Lex, to deny their love or whatever feelings he had had for Lex... Perhaps he had not truly loved him. Perhaps he had been too young to know what love was. But he had felt something. There had been no denying the kisses that they had shared in this field, up in the barn on the hill, in Lex’s mansion at the time, or in so many other places. Hidden away from society, they had each opened up to one another, and that friendship, the only true one Lex had ever known, had built into something far grander, far more passionate, and far more wonderful.

It had also scared them both to their very, nubile cores. Clark had chosen, ultimately, to deny all that he had felt while Lex had been hurt again. It had been the last time he had ever truly allowed anyone into his heart and thoughts, and only the second time since his mother had lived. He had had a plethora of lovers since then, both men and women and even a few other aliens along the way, but he would never again give his heart to anyone.

He cannot, in part, because it is in these very fields that Lex’s true love and happiness still lays. That is why he has to come here every so often. He has to remember who he is, who Clark is, and the real reason why he battles the world’s greatest hero. Clark is blinded. He’s too desperate to be loved by the populace to see what the world has truly become, and the only recourse left to save it from all those in power, including the heroes.

He’ll see him again today, Lex knows. He’ll fight him again today, and this time, someone may well die. They may both die. He smiles, though the smile does not touch his empty, blue eyes. It would be fittingly clandestine if they both die in today’s battle. But if he can win, he can save the world. He can stop the planet from the destruction with which humanity is set to conquer it. War is ravaging the land again, starving all species. There is only one answer left: He must conquer it. He must lead Earth into the bright, new future she deserves.

And Clark, the very man who first inspired him to do better, is still the man who stands in his way. He is still the man who is set to die trying to stop him. In the distance, Lex sees a proud, old gelding toss his head. He remembers that horse’s mother. He remembers many gallops taken together on her back, many kisses and other, greater things shared astride her.

He had once believed this simple farmland to be his future, but the future he’d truly wanted, of being loved by the only person who had ever loved him, has been stolen from him. Clark still looks at him with the same old, burning passion in his bright blue eyes sometimes when they’re alone, but that doesn’t matter. It can’t. The very boy who turned from him in the fear of what everyone else would think of their relationship is still the same, scared boy who set him on the path on which he now stands.

Lex had never cared about the world before Clark, but he’s never stopped since. He sees the destruction humanity is reaping, and he knows there is only one way left to save them. Worse, it’s something the other humans, especially the self-righteous heroes, will never be willing to do. He must conquer them all so he can save them.

The horse has come closer, and through the tears beginning to prick his eyes, Lex sees him again toss his mighty, regal head. Many years ago, when they’d still been young, Clark had reminded him of a wild, free, powerful, and beautiful stallion. He had tried so hard to tame that stallion. He’d been willing to give him everything and anything, and he had given him everything he’d held most dear. Clark Kent had changed his world, but his own pride had ultimately cost them everything.

Lex scoffs under his breath. The world thinks he is the prideful one, but he knows better. He and Clark could have found other, better ways to save the world, but now it’s too late. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, removes a carrot, and holds it out to the horse. He waits as the proud animal slowly inches closer and finally eats from his palm. He strokes his muzzle before turning away, before turning from the pasture, the old barn, and the past.

He will do what he must today to save the planet. He will do what he must to ensure the wild can stay wild, the prideful proud,… and Clark’s daughter has a good world in which to grow up. He’s never stopped caring about Clark. He’s never stopped loving him. But everything has gone on for far too long now.

He will save the world. He will do whatever he must to stop all the wars and to make sure everyone can eat and thrive. He will free them from their own foolishery, bad decisions, and greed. He will save the earth, and he will stop whoever tries to stop him. He no longer has a choice. Lex walks away from the memories of love, his own head held high with the determined façade of the pride the world expects from the richest, and most powerful, man in it. He will stop whoever he must. He will kill whoever he must.

And so he says goodbye to the boy he ever was and embraces the man he must become, the man, in some ways, his father had always wanted him to be, the man the world’s supposed greatest hero had set him on the path to become. He might well kill that man today – he might well kill whatever’s left of both their hearts --, but he will succeed where Clark cannot. He will saved the world, to which he’s already surrendered all he ever was or hoped to be.

The End

Maybe

2022-06-25T17:23:48Z

Title: Maybe
Dedicated To: <3 J <3
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary: Buffy awakens in the arms of a Demon yet again.
Word Count: 2370
Written For: GenPrompt Bingo: Round 22: Perfect and nekid_spike Paired Up challenge: Spike/Buffy
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She stirs slowly in the dusty, abandoned house. She doesn’t remember which house they chose last night, which street this is, when they got here last night, or even what day of the week it is. She knows she needs to be getting to school, not for her own education – that's yet another lost dream – but for work, to keep a roof over Dawn’s head and food in both their bellies. Right now, however, she just wants to lay here.

She can hear a bird singing somewhere, which is surprising. She rarely sees a loose animal in Sunnydale anymore. They’re too easy prey for the Vampires and other Demons, and most who didn’t have homes left long before the humans started giving up and running away, abandoning their homes and sometimes even their families in their desperation to save their own selves. She’s tried to run away from destiny on multiple occasions, but it’s never worked.

It never will work, she’s finally come to accept. This is her destiny: to work hard in the day time for her sister, a sister who is not even truly her flesh and blood but might as well be for all the importance she is to her, and to slave away at night to protect humans who will never appreciate her or the sacrifices she’s made. She’s sacrificed much more than her own education. She’s sacrificed her life multiple times, and not just her body. She has no future, no hope, no reason to believe anything in her life will ever get any better.

She is a warrior. She is a slave. As hard as she has tried not to be, she is a slave. She is a slave to being the Chosen One. She is a slave to giving everything she has – body, heart, and her very soul – to keeping others alive. She is a slave to the darkness that impales her. In her own, she has become just as much of a slave to the night as the Vampires and the other creatures she’s destined to spend her entire existence killing.

Oh, she talks a good talk. She’s managed to keep her friends, and none of them have any idea just how bad she’s hurting, how bad she’s barely living. They’re all wrapped in their own little problems too much to realize how much their hero is hurting, how dark she’s become, how much of a killer she has become. Yet she still fights for them. She still fights for Dawn. She still fights for a humanity that was ripped from her long ago, long before she was pulled out of the one peace she’d finally come to know in her grave that, despite what they think, was not too soon.

There’s another peace she knows as arms come around her, another reprieve from the darkness that plagues every other aspect of her life. Buffy looks down at those leather-clad arms wrapping around her waist. Then, suddenly, she realizes there is sunlight filtering into the living room of this house that belongs to whom she does not know. There’s sunlight,… and that means it could kill the person laying underneath her, the man with whom she escaped last night.

She gasps his name and starts to roll to her feet, but his arms hold her tight. She could break him easily. She could dust him right here, right now, even if the sun didn’t kill him. But she needs him. As much as it pains her to admit it, she needs the Vampire laying beneath her. She needs the Demon who pounded her senseless last night, and who she gave to with equally reckless and wild abandonment of all that she would have once called common sense.

Common sense would dictate that she has nothing to do with this Demon, this man who has never been a good man or even really a man the entire time she’s known him, this Vampire who, even as a mortal, had been a meager whipping boy, from all he’s confessed to her in their late night talks. The anger’s beginning to rise again already. She’s not even up, hasn’t gotten to her feet once, and barely has her eyes open, but quiet and deadly fury is once again flushing through her entire system.

Her teeth set. She pops her eyes open and takes survey of the room. Nobody’s been in this house for quite some time, but at least it looks like they took most of their belongings with them. Maybe they were one of the lucky ones. Maybe they had actually had somewhere to go when they’d fled the Hellmouth. She shouldn’t care. They’re just one family after millions of people who don’t care for her beyond what she can do for them, after all, more nameless faces in a never-ending sea of people for whom she’s destined to give her life. Even though her body still breathes, her actual life has been over for a long time now, and it’s never going to be returned to her. Any hope for an actual future she professes to have to her friends, to her “family”, is nothing more than an extravagant lie.

But she can forget that, when she’s in his arms, she admits silently, biting her bottom lip and looking down at the pale, strong hands that hold her tightly. In his sleep, Spike is jarring her rib cage with his black nails, but she doesn’t care. Pain is the only other emotion she can feel these days other than anger. She’s angry at everybody including herself, for allowing herself to become trapped like this, for allowing her Slayerage to trap her in a life she does not want, for allowing herself to love others greater than herself, for surrendering the future and happiness she’d once fought so hard to keep without much more than a whimper and a very brief bang, and yes, for loving a Vampire again too.

Anger flashes across her entire being at that betraying thought. She tosses Spike’s hands off of her and jumps to her feet, only silencing the growl of self-disgust that swells within her throat because she doesn’t want to wake the Vampire. He gave her what she needed last night. She escaped her life, her existence, for one more night in his arms in this place where her friends, and no one else of importance, will ever find her. That’s all he is to her – the only escape she can find.

If her eyes glance quickly across the room and make sure that the sunlight can’t reach him, she doesn’t admit it to herself. If he looks handsome and sweet, laying there asleep, she most certainly doesn’t admit that either! If some would consider waking up in the arms of a hunk like Spike, she also doesn’t admit that. After all, she far too well knows the Demon that lurks beneath him. Angel had been called such because he had worn the face of an Angel. Spike is just as bad, if not worse. She knows better than to succumb to him; yet she keeps doing so every night!

It doesn’t matter, she thinks fiercely, that he has his soul! It doesn’t matter that he supposedly fought to reclaim that soul whereas Angel was cursed with his. He is still evil, still wicked, still a foul, horrible being, still a Vampire she’s supposed to slay.

Buffy moves in a flash, snatching her clothes back on. She notices a single chair in the room and rapidly snaps off a leg. Holding the wood tightly in her hand, she looks back at Spike’s sleeping body... and curses with language that would make Faith proud. She can’t do it. For all her strength in saving others, she cannot save herself! She cannot kill this man. This Demon, she reminds herself viciously.

His eyes have opened, she realizes suddenly, as she catches him watching her from underneath his long, black lashes. Their gazes connect, and to both her surprise and further disgust, he waves a hand at his bare chest. (They had evidently left his shirt in the doorway, where she had undoubtedly stripped the dark, tight fabric off of his lean, pale torso.) “Do it.”

She glares at him, trying to make him feel with her burning gaze how much she hates him. Yet, even in this moment, she knows she doesn't truly hate him. If she did, she could walk away from him. She can’t. No matter how wise a choice of action it would be to save herself, or even the world, she cannot simply walk away from this man. He does something to her, something deeper and beyond anything Angel had ever done. Angel had been puppy love. Spike... Spike is something far more, far greater, something she dares not name, not now or ever, especially if she ever truly wants to be able to be her own woman, her own person, to break free of all the chains that bind her and still somehow find a way to live her own life, to finally be free.

Spike is a curse – these feelings are a cage --, and she will not be bound, not to him or to anyone more than she already is. She doesn’t love him. She can’t love him. He’s not worthy of her love. He’s tried to kill her. He’s tried to kill her friends, her family... Memories of watching him with her own mother when he’d thought she’d not been looking flash through her mind. The fact that he’s the one who kept Dawn alive while she’d been dead also enters her mind. Memories of when he helped her save the world, in honor of another woman, long before he’d had any thoughts of restoring his soul fly behind her troubled eyes. She gasps again. He thinks it’s because he’s daring her, but he could not be more wrong.

“Do it,” Spike says again, leaning back with ease and continuing to hold her gaze. He gestures once more to his chest, to the place on his body where, had he been mortal, his heart truly would have beaten, at the place that had felt so dead and hollow within him for so long but that she somehow makes feel alive every time she deigns to touch his skin or look at him in a certain way. He’s never had any luck at love or at picking women who were good for him, but he knows he’s the monster. He was the freak who had never deserved love in his mortal life, and he is still the monster now. She is the one who deserves better, who deserves to be free -- “What’re you waiting for? Do it if it’ll make you feel better, pet.”

Against her better judgment, Buffy releases the makeshift stake. The wood clatters to the floor, echoing in the otherwise empty house. Their eyes are still locked. She’s having trouble breaking the gaze, breaking his hold on her. She forces the memories of their good times down, forces her heartbeat not to pound so loudly and swiftly that she knows he can hear it and must undoubtedly deriving some sense of pleasure from her weakness, forces herself, at last, to rip her eyes from his. She looks to the dusty floor instead and notes there’s dots of blood on it. Blood that she instinctively knows is one or both of theirs.

“Get out of the sun,” she growls, and flees. She does not love Spike. She does not care for him. She cannot! He isn’t good! No matter how many times he’s helped her save the world, no matter how many times he’s been there for her when no one else has, no matter how many times he’s held her and let her cry on him or even beat him to a bloody pulp, he is not a good man! He is just another Vampire, another Demon she’s meant to kill.

She runs through the streets as the birds’ songs rise. She runs with her heart pounding. She runs, leaving another still-living Vampire behind her, a small grin beginning to pull up the curves of his black and bruised mouth. She runs, but she cannot out run herself. She cannot out run the memories that plague her, the memories of every time he’s been there for her when no one else has, the memories of when he was so gentle with her sister and mother, the memories of when he’s fought beside her or let her come so close to killing him, the memories of how sometimes, in those late, late hours of the night or the wee hours of the morning, he has actually made her feel something besides anger, hate, and emptiness...

The memories of his kisses that stir her like no other ever has, the memories of the feel of his arms around her, of the feel that maybe, just maybe, somebody else could keep her safe at least for a little while... The memories of when she has lain there in his embrace and thought, despite herself and her better knowledge, that if things had only been different, if he had not been a Demon, if she had not been the Slayer, maybe in another world, another life, he could have been the perfect man for her. He could have been the fairy tale love.

But fairy tales don’t exist. Only monsters do. But when Buffy screams that morning, her cry echoing off the alley ways of the Hellmouth, it has nothing to do with monsters.

Left alone yet again, Spike leans back in the shadows of the house that will serve as his crypt for the day and smiles. Maybe he is wearing her down after all. Maybe, just maybe, he might get a miracle yet. She’ll never love him – he's not worthy of love --, but maybe, if he keeps pursuing, if he keeps being there for her when no other fool will be, maybe, just maybe, she’ll learn not to hate him any more. Grinning, he sings softly to himself an old song. Maybe he’s wearing her down after all.

The End

Lies

2022-06-25T17:22:10Z

Title: Lies
Dedicated To: Angie. She knows why. <3
Fandom: Dawson's Creek
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Jack/Joey, pre-Doug/Jack
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Sometimes, maybe, it's better just to lie.
Word Count: 2497
Written For: Lands of Magic 9.13: Pride
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

He needed to be honest. He needed to come out to her, to tell her the truth to lessen the pain that would come when he finally did break up with her. He should never have kissed her to begin with, should never have led her on, but then, at the time, he hadn’t realized that he was leading her on. Joey had been the one bright light in his otherwise dark life, and Jack had convinced himself that he loved her.

He had convinced himself that she could be his cure, that she could not be the one girl in all the world who did make him hot, make him hard, make him heterosexual, make him normal. She had been, and still was, his one true friend not just in Capeside but in all the world. (He couldn’t really count Andie, after all, because she was his sister and rarely had time for him anymore.) But more and more he had come to realize that she was just that, only a friend though an awesome one. She could never be more, because he could never be the guy she deserved. He could never be straight, not for her, not for Andie, not for his mother, not for his own sanity. It just wasn’t in him; he liked the guys way too much.

He was a plague. Jack tried determinedly to push away the black thought the moment it entered his mind, but it was still there: He was a plague. They had so often thought their father’s departure was a plague, but it was almost as though their family was truly cursed. It was almost enough to make him believe in magic and Witchcraft and all that fanciful stuff. First his Dad’s betrayal and departure, then his brother’s death, his mother’s insanity, Andie’s insanity, his own sexuality... Their family was cursed, and he certainly didn’t help matters.

Everybody already looked at them as though they had no business being in this small, close-knit town. There had not been a single day since their mother’s sickness had come out that he had not heard whispers of how crazy their family was. Classmates still avidly avoided him every day in the school halls and out on the street, and they didn’t even know he was gay. They had no idea that he didn’t like girls in that special way that wasn’t really all that special at all, but the way that every guy was told from childhood that they should. Little girls, he knew from Andie, dreamed of Princes to rescue them, but little boys were supposed to be chasing after little girls, going pass the cooties stage to wanting to score as much and in any way as they could.

Bile still rose in his throat every time he thought about kissing a girl, but he didn’t have that problem with Joey. When he thought about kissing her, he felt nauseous, queasy. When they were together, he could manage it okay. He could manage being the friend she needed, making her smile, making her face light up. She was precious, and there was something in her, or in him, or maybe even between them that made him want to reach out to her and protect her. It made him want to be her Prince even though he still didn’t like the idea of looking at her naked.

She had been hurt so much in her life, not unlike himself or his sister, and she had been there for him when nobody, including Andie, had been. She had been his only true friend besides his sister. He had witnessed her pain with his own eyes, and she had confided in him secrets that she claimed she had not even told Dawson. He’d seen how Dawson had hurt her too, seen her cry, held her while she wept... She had been vulnerable and open with him in ways that she claimed to never allow herself to be with others. Like Andie, she needed him, but unlike Andie, she didn’t have another Prince coming to her rescue. Dawson was too much of a fool to see what was right in front of him.

Josephine Potter was a jewel of a woman. She brought out everything Andie did in him, but stronger and in different, more vibrant ways. He was glad Andie had found Pacey; she’d found her happiness and her future in him. But Joey... Joey had no one who truly cared for her, no one but him.

And he was hurting her. Every time that he lied to her, he was betraying her trust and adding to the hurt that would eventually overwhelm and ruin their friendship. He needed to be honest with her, but how could he when he had never said the words to anyone else? He’d never even spoken them out loud and still struggled with being honest even with himself, even in the private and safe confines of his own mind. After all, everybody else thought their family was crazy, and that gay people were a completely different, sometimes worse, sometimes better, depending on their viewpoint, kind of crazy and sickness.

He wasn’t one who wanted to get down with the sickness. He had struggled so hard to keep his family and his own mind together. He wanted his mother to get well, and his sister to as well. He wanted his family to be able to be whole and normal again. He wanted them to be able to walk out into the daylight in Capeside, or any other town for that matter, and not be rejected, sneered at, turned from...

Tears welled in Jack’s deep, brown eyes. All of his life, he had only wanted to be normal, but he never would be. He could act the part. He could be a loving, doting son, brother, and even boyfriend, perhaps even husband one day. He could be the man that his mother, Andie, and Joey all needed and deserved. He could not stop their pain, but he could at least ease it.

But even if he let things go, even if he continued the charade forever, he would never be normal. He could not be normal. He could not stop lust from overtaking him whenever the football team practiced out in the sun, or when he caught Pacey’s brother working in the yard without his shirt on. Even sometimes when Doug was dressed in his blue uniform, and he had the safety of his sister and her boyfriend right next to him, Jack still couldn’t seem to stop his eyes from trailing over the tell-tale ripple of the police uniform, following the movements that he knew came from Doug’s muscles. He couldn’t stop his mouth from salivating. He couldn’t stop himself from dreaming of him, of the jocks, of actors and male singers, always males...

He liked the guys way, way too much. He would never be normal. He was sick, and his sickness was worse than his mother’s or Andie’s. At least theirs was caused by grief and could one day be fixed with medication, if through no other means. There was no cure for being gay. There were people who believed there shouldn’t be a cure, that it was not an illness that needed fixing, but Jack knew they were wrong. It did need to be fixed. He needed to be fixed, and not even Joey’s love could do that.

He caught sight of her beautiful, brown hair swinging as she moved towards him through the hall. Not a single person had stopped to speak to him today. Not one had looked at him or spoken to him while he stood waiting for her. He couldn’t blame them: He was sick. He was disgusting. And his disgust with himself was growing with each lie he spread, because he knew when the truth did finally come out, he was going to lose the one friend, besides his sister, who he still had.

He had to tell her. He was going to tell her today, Jack decided, but then, all too soon, Joey was right in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she greeted him with a tight hug that made him feel like he actually was special in a good way and warmer than he was standing before a fire. It wasn’t the kind of heat that made him want to make love to her, or even kiss her. It wasn’t the kind of heat that a guy was supposed to feel for a beautiful girl who loved him.

It made him feel special. It made him feel whole. It made him feel wanted, loved, and appreciated. But it wasn’t the kind of passionate heat that he should be feeling for her. He had to tell her. He started to speak, but suddenly, her lips were on his. She kissed him, and didn’t even notice how stunned he was or that he tried to pull back.

Her arms were around his neck, her body pressed close to his, and Jack knew he was special. He was special, because this wonderful woman chose him above all others to be with, to share her secrets with, to care for, perhaps even to love... She deserved the truth. He had to tell her.

“I missed you today,” Joey crooned, and as he gazed into her eyes, Jack felt his resolve slipping away. If he ever told her, he was going to lose this special connection, this most precious of friendships. He was going to lose the one person who besides his sister and mother did not look at him like he was a creep, like he was a monster... He was going to lose the person who had trusted him and cared for him, who had taken him into her life and her heart and chosen to share her whole world with him.

And he was going to hurt her. That beautiful smile was going to fall. With just a few words, he was going to become just another of the long string of men who had hurt her. The last thing Joey deserved was even more pain. She’d been through far, far too much, just as his sister had, just as his mother had, just as he himself had...

He swallowed hard and wet his lips. She was looking expectantly up at him, her big, brown eyes full of trust, joy, and love. How could he destroy the way she was looking at him? How could he kill that beautiful light in her even more beautiful, stunning eyes? How could he, too, crush her? He wet his lips again, and... he lied again.

“I missed you too,” he said and was rewarded with her smile becoming even more brilliant. “Can I walk you to Bessie’s?” he asked, taking her books.

“Actually, they’re slow, so I don’t have to go in yet. I was thinking maybe we could watch a movie?”

“Sure, I’d like that.” He grinned. That, at least, wasn’t a lie. He enjoyed spending time with this girl. He enjoyed making her happy. He just wished he could find a way to be happy with her and to stop being the monster he’d evidently been born to be. He’d had feelings for other guys for as long as he could remember, and the only thing he’d ever truly felt for girls was the need to protect them, care for them, cherish them...

Wasn’t that what a husband was supposed to do anyway? He thought, again swallowing hard. Girls were taught to look for a Prince to rescue them. He could be that Prince for Joey, he thought, even if it meant lying to himself forever. He just wished someone would save him from himself.

As they walked outside, Joey reached out and grabbed his hand. He squeezed her hand gently, a subtle reminder that he was there for her. Warmth jolted through his arm from her simple touch, but again, it wasn’t the kind of warmth that he was supposed to feel from her caress. It was just the touch of a friend, a friend who, as long as he didn’t hurt her, would always be there for him.

He heard a siren, thought of Doug, and imagined those delicious muscles moving underneath his police uniform, but then he pushed those thoughts away. He was with Joey. She needed him. Doug didn’t. He wasn’t gay – he was a cop, for crying out loud --, and besides, even if he was, coming out of a closet in a town like Capeside would destroy his career and his life as surely as it would finish destroying Jack’s.

He was gay, but no one had to know. He imagined hot guys almost every time he closed his eyes, but just because he imagined them didn’t mean he had to act on his fantasies. Sometimes fantasies were not jovial images of frolicking unicorns and Princes sweeping in to rescue Princesses. Sometimes they were dark fantasies, leading to places that no one wanted to know or envision, where no one dared tread.

“Jack,” Joey asked, sliding closer to his side and wrapping his arm around her, “what’s wrong? You’re shivering.” She glanced in concern at him and then to the warm, late Spring sun. It was a beautiful day, but he hadn’t even noticed until he saw her gazing at the sun.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, and then grinned down at her. “They say a beautiful woman is supposed to make a guy shiver.”

She blushed, but then a smile overtook her countenance again, chasing away all the darkness, fear, and worry that had settled there for a brief moment. He had called her beautiful, she recognized and clung to that acknowledgement.

Jack sighed inwardly, but she didn’t notice. He had lied again, but his little, white lie that honestly wasn’t altogether a lie – after all, he hadn’t actually said that she was the reason for his shiver – had clearly made her happy. He could keep doing this. If it kept his family in as much tact as they had been, if it made her happy and helped his mother and sister along the way, he could keep doing this.

He could lie to himself forever, or at least, he could pretend to lie to himself while he kept lying to the world. He would be the man they all needed. He would lie as much as he had to and do everything, anything, else he had to to make them happy. After all, it wasn’t as though he could be happy. Even if he came out of the closet, he’d never be able not here, and his sexuality would finish mounting the shame on his family until it destroyed what was left of them and their bonds. He could lie. He could do whatever it took to keep them happy, and he would.

The End

Three Birthday Lists

2022-06-25T17:21:07Z

They never ask what he would choose if given the opportunity, but the ancient being, who feels even older than his years and bluer than what passes for his skin, knows exactly what his three wishes would be:

Freedom! Freedom to do as he chooses, to go where he chooses, and to be all, or as little, as he chooses.

A love, oh so fair, of his own, someone who actually chooses him for him, not for all he can give them.

A friend who meets the same bill.

Maybe a pet would be that friend, but what kind? He’s heard it said, more than once, that animals are the only ones who truly love a guy with open hearts no matter what he is, can do, or has done.

If he could escape Agrabah, under his own power, maybe he’d no longer have to be a Genie. Maybe he could be his own being, and find these people of whom he dreams.

In the end, Genie knows, he really just wants to be loved and liked for who he is, not what he is.

Trely looks up from polishing the King’s leather boots. Jareth is bored again, tapping his tightly-clad leg with his rod and looking irritated at all the other Goblins running amock. They all love him and respect him as best as their little brains can. Yet they cannot help pestering him. All the other Goblins together might have half the brain she does, and she knows her own mind isn’t very much at all. Why, the dirt she’s cleaning off of his Royal Boots is probably smarter than she is!

Of all the things she does know, though, one weighs far heavier on her than all the rest. She looks up at her King, and she remembers when a baby came to them, so many years before. He was supposed to be their savior, but their lives and world have not allowed him the ability to save them yet. Not yet, she knows, but one day, he will. One day, he will save them all.

She wonders if he remembers. She’s far smarter than she, of course, but does he remember when he came to them? Does he know that today is the anniversary of that most special day in all the days? She’s heard it’s traditional to give gifts on such a day, but she knows she cannot give him what she wants. If she had the power to, though, she’d grant him everything she knows he wants:

A girl not just to help save the land and to save them all but to love him for himself

Something, or some other creatures, that would actually keep him entertained, not a dangerous adventure that could hurt His Majesty but something that would keep his interest instead of boring him with the same dull things and Goblins day after day and night after night

Freedom. Not just the ability to go Above Ground but the ability to come back Underground whenever he chose, to go wherever he pleased and to come home, too, to them, and to her, when he pleased.

But she is only a Goblin. She does not even deserve to speak to him and knows her small mind, and smaller words, only bores him further, so she sits in quiet, other than the ruckus the other Goblins insist on making, and polishes his boots brighter than she has in a long time. Nobody of any importance will see the boots except for him, but maybe they at least will make her King smile.

Her finger slides suddenly through a small hole in the top of one of his boots. Trely freezes, her big eyes glancing anxiously up at the King, but Jareth isn’t paying her any attention, not that he ever does. She is, after all, just one servant out of millions. (4) New boots, she thinks, and (5) a whole new outfit would be a grand addition to what she would like to be able to give him. A new outfit to wow the girl of his dreams, not just the traditional clothing of the cursed King he has to use, and of course, just being able to break that awful curse would be the grandest present of all for her beloved King, the little boy whose makeshift cradle her tiny arms once rocked....

His birthday’s in a week, but Henry can’t get in the mood. Regina’s already been trying to bribe his affection and forgiveness for the last several days. They’ve stretched into each other to the point that Henry no longer knows how many days it’s been since she’s been finding every excuse under the sun to buy him gifts he doesn’t want. He doesn’t want the new game system, or any book or movie, or any sweet pastry, especially with apples. His desires are simple, but he knows his adopted mother will never grant them. His birth mother might, but she, like the rest of their town, is far too controlled by the Queen.

Maybe he could talk to her. Maybe he could tell her, but he knows it will never matter. Any amount of begging will fall on deaf ears. All he wants is

His family to love each other and all to get along. (and)

To be able to have friends of his own choosing and making, like Archie, Gepetto, and Violet too.

Maybe if he could find her (3) a man who would truly love her instead of fearing her and who (4) she would find the strength to allow herself to love in return, she could let him go to be himself and actually let him have the family and friends he wants.

Besides, Henry thinks, swinging his legs off the dock, if she’s really determined to make his birthday something and buy his affection, she could at least buy him the (5) latest Kingdom Hearts game and (6) let him have a full-on birthday blast party at Granny’s, complete with his choice of ice cream and pie. He sneered in disgust. Apples would certainly be nowhere near his celebration, if he did get to choose the fare!

A Name

2022-06-25T17:19:01Z

Title: A Name
Dedicated To: <3 My beloved J <3
Original (or) Fandom: Original
Rating: G/K
Notes: What's in a name?

"What's in a name?" he asked, shrugging. He couldn't understand why she had been so determined to get here. After all, they were married in front of God and everyone. What more did his new wife need? He didn't understand her obsession with government bureaucracy.

"What's in a name," she responded, looking up into his eyes, "is the fact that I now have your name! No one can ever say again that we two are not one!"

She grabbed him and kissed him, but even as he relished and returned her kiss, he knew that no one ever could regardless.

The End

I'm Back -- Sort Of

2022-06-25T17:15:20Z

We're still living in the blooming storage houses and are burning up. It's hotter inside during the day than it is outside, even though we've got the windows covered and leave the AC and MULTIPLE fans running 24/7. We're all facing the very real possibility of heat stroke, and although we're trying to find somewhere to go to, we can't seem to find anything animal-friendly. I'm even at the point of giving up on the pets if need be, but my J is still holding out. And I do admit I have two, little ginger boys who I am very loathe to leave -- but will if it means the difference between surviving and not.

But we are both working, and I actually have been blessed with a local IT job that could very well lead me to a REAL career again at long last. I'm also being able to take a shower for free at work (we STILL have no running water, despite having paid for it to be fixed TWO different times, once to a company and once to an actual person). I am actually able to get online at work again, BUT they actually watch what we do -- meaning I have GOT to stay away from the adult stuff. Unfortunately, my LJ has a great deal more adult-oriented images and the like posted to it than my DW, so it looks like I am finally going to be making the big move to DW.

I do, however, plan to catch up on LJ on the weekends, so there's that, and if any of you have DW accounts/communities that I am not already subscribed to, PLEASE share the links!!!!

I have MISSED this!!!!!!!

6 Word Stories

2022-06-04T00:16:35Z

Mickey raised a kingdom from beyond.

Cordelia wept; angel's sacrifice saved Angel.

Puss became Donkey's hero, saving waffles.

Xavier, Lehnsherr, Frost, Shaw, all dreamed.

And, as a special bonus, my J even tried his hand. <3

Morty depended on Rick; Rick left.

Lois married Peter; she regretted it.

Her Own

2022-06-02T22:17:02Z

Title: Her Own
Fandom: Rick & Morty
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Summer, Rick, Morty
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: She's better than they'll ever know.
Word Count: 1375
Written For: Fan FlashWorks 372: Type
Warnings: Slight Spoilers
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She's used to the vicious snarls of words that whisper behind her and her brother in the hallways. They never used to bother her when the words were aimed at Morty, but then she's changed a lot from the girl she'd been just a few years ago. She's changed a lot and, in her opinion, the changes have all been for the better. The other students with whom they have to contend on the rare occasion when they do go to school could never guess at the things they've seen or done. They could never do the things they've done, and not just the saving the world parts.

She just spent this past weekend galaxy hopping from one system to another and screwing all kinds of beings. There isn't a thing here any of these guys could offer her, and she's been, seen, and done more hunks than the other girls will ever know. She knows what a real man is, and she's had several. But more than that, she knows what a real woman is and she is already more mature, stronger, and smarter than the cheerleaders laughing behind her will ever be or know.

She's surprised when her little brother falls into step beside her. "If Rick was here, he could vaporize them."

"Are you kidding me?" Summer asks. She's come to love her grandfather, and greatly admire the man's genius, but she also knows the type of man Rick Sanchez is. "They're cheerleaders. He'd screw every one of them and not care. He doesn't care about us, Morty." Even if we care about him, she thinks but does not say aloud. She'll never give her little brother anything he can use to his advantage against her, never again, even if they do tend to be there for each other when the chips are down and universes and life forms are being eradicated from the very fabrication of existence.

Yeah, those girls could never begin to imagine the wild things she's seen and done! They could never begin to do what she's done, to face the worlds and strange creatures she has, to overcome the losses, to not go freaking out of their minds nuts...

"FUCK OFF! I'M A TIME GOD!"

Summer catches a glimpse of Morty's face falling. There's a part of her that wants to reassure him that his ex-girlfriend -- what was her name again? Jessica? -- will one day be sane again, that he doesn't have anything to feel bad or guilty about, that her life will go on one day as normal... There's a part that wants to tell him a bold-faced lie in that she's better off for having known him and that her absence in his life is her loss. There's a lot of lies she'd be willing to feed Morty, if their lives were any easier, if she or he were any less strong than they are.

But they'd both know that any such reassurance would be nothing more than a lie. They also are both mature, wise, and experienced enough to recognize that lying only adds to the pains in the end. Yes, if you lie to yourself enough, you might escape some of the hurt, especially at first, but in the end, when it catches you... She bites back something she cannot name as a strange shiver shimmies down her thin spine. There's a reason Grandpa Rick drinks as much as he does. There's a reason why he can't put the stuff down, and why he can't, and will never, tell them he loves them.

It's also way more than just the survival mode he claims. There's a weakness in opening up, a weakness that allows others to have the ability to hurt you. The man is the galaxy's greatest genius. He knows all about that pain, and he knows that the only way to stop it is to never let it begin. Maybe that's another reason, Summer thinks, that she never tries to date an Earthling any more. Nothing lasting can come from anything with an alien, but it could with a male of her own species, from her own world, if he'd be willing to stick around throughout all the insanity that is her life.

That is their life, she corrects herself, glancing again at her little brother. "Hey, you wanna stop for an ice cream on the way home?"

"Sure!" He beams excitedly, but then his apprehension begins to appear on his face. "Wait. Are you paying or -- ?"

"Fine. I'll pay." He sighs heavily, and she doesn't feel sorry. She is a Sanchez, after all. Rick Sanchez's blood is in her DNA. She knows better than to care, than to love, than to open herself up. She's better than the people behind her, and she's smarter than her brother too. She'll always be better than them, because she is a Sanchez and what's more, she knows what it takes to survive a life as a Sanchez in this crazy world with its prejudices and petty jealousies. She knows what it takes to survive this life. She's already survived far more than the rest of her classmates will ever have to endure, and if it is indeed more than she should have to endure, Summer doesn't let herself dwell on that notion.

Dwelling doesn't do any good, after all. Brooding, or thinking too much about any one little thing, isn't good for survival. She will not only survive; she will always be better than the people around her, better than everybody but her own grandfather. Her mind can't begin to surpass his, or even come close to matching it. Trying to compare her intellect to that of Rick Sanchez is like trying to compare a dung beetle to a true genius, but she knows, too, survival has its limits. Everyone has an end, and eventually that end will catch Rick Sanchez. It'll catch her grandfather, and she will be there to mourn, to draw together the pieces that are left, and to take over the helm of everything he leaves behind. She will survive, and she will be the Queen when the proverbial King, the man who is King to them all in everything but name, is finally gone.

She feels the ripple in the space-time continuum just a moment before her grandfather appears in yet another strange, green spacecraft. "Hey! I need someone to -- "

She doesn't know what he needs; she doesn't care, not really. But she's there. She's there as she always is, to catch him, to support him, and to follow him to a life and destiny far better than this school and any of its narrow, little minds could ever hope to have. She jumps into his passenger seat even as Morty's protesting.

"Sorry, bro! Go get that ice cream like the baby you are! We've got adult stuff to do!"

Rick grins, and pride swells within Summer. It does feel good to make him happy. It does feel good to know he's proud of her. But she knows even his reign will eventually come to an end, and when it does, she will be there to rule over all who are left. She's never been the type to not see a golden opportunity to benefit herself when it appears, and being Rick Sanchez's right hand woman is exactly the opportunity that will take her far, far, far beyond the stars where no little, snobby cheerleader can ever again touch her with her ridicule and no boy can ever again break her heart.

"Let's go!" she doesn't even have to say the words before they're out of the dimension in which everyone else she knows is stuck and into another one with greater opportunities. Her life is a golden opportunity, with no end to the things she can be or have, as long as she plays her role right, and she will always play it right. She wasn't meant to be Daddy's little girl or Momma's; she was meant to be her Grandfather's girl, her grandfather's second in command, and eventually, her own, and the cosmos', Queen. Bye, suckers! she thinks, laughing in her head at all the classmates, and their cruelty, she's left behind.

The End

Planning For Paradise

2022-05-06T02:00:04Z

Title: Planning For Paradise
Fandom: Batman
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Harley/Ivy
Rating: Slight PG-13/T
Summary: Harley has a special night, a special thank you, and a special future planned for and with the one who rescued her.
Word Count: 2136
Written For: Lands of Magic Round 9 Challenge 6: Earth Day
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

Ivy had done so much for Harley over the years. She had freed her from the Joker's vile manners and awful treatment, but that had just been the beginning. Back during those years, Ivy had insisted they be only friends, and although they had had some very fun nights, every morning after, she had began to distance herself from Harley. It had not taken Harls long, once her wisdom and training as a psychiatrist had began to resurface, to figure out what Ivy had been doing: She had been rescuing Harley, from the Joker, from the world at large, and from what Harley had allowed both to make her into. That was why it had taken them both so many years to stop running from their feelings, to accept their budding love, and eventually, to build this paradise through which Harley and her hyenas were currently walking.

It had been months since they had been to Gotham, longer still since she had last had to look at the Joker or hear his cruel, insane laughter anywhere other than her nightmares. They didn't need to steal, rob, or kill. Ivy made certain she had everything she wanted, and Harley had learned not to ask questions. It wasn't that she minded the answers Ivy gave when she pushed as to where their funds came from. No, it was much rather that she barely understood a word her Scientist lover spoke when she began explaining such things. Ivy was making leaps and bounds not just in her field at work but also in her dreams, of rescuing the planet and of making Harley a happy, and kept, woman.

The Joker had always said he wanted to do that, but he never had. He'd never had any true intentions of settling down not with her or anyone, or of stopping his life of crime. Ivy had instead built a paradise around Harley that included everything she could ever want, including the freedom to go out any time she chose and do whatever she chose, but she rarely wanted to go out any more. The world was becoming an increasingly sicker place, and Harley was perfectly content to stay at home with her babies and her woman and not wander, or wonder about what was beyond the entrance to their lush, jungle home.

Oh, it just looked like a big, fancy facility on the outside, but on the inside, there were trees and flowers of every type. Harley was allowed to bring home any animal she chose by Ivy, but it wasn't so easy when it came to her jealous boys, one of whose mangy heads she patted now. He panted, his tongue lolling out, as he grinned up at her. She giggled. "Today's an important day," she whispered.

She never used to think of Earth Day as having any real importance. Oh, sure she understood humans were killing the Environment and slaughtering whole animal species left and right, but it had never made any difference to her. Except for recently. Ivy had mentioned it late one night when she'd angrily flicked the news off. There was something about some company doing something big and fancy smancy today, on Earth Day of all days, and Ivy had been determined to thwart their plans. She hadn't asked Harley to go, however, and Harls hadn't volunteered.

But then she had began to think about it in the long hours since Ivy had been away on her latest caper. She didn't have to kill anybody any more, but it didn't mean that Ivy didn't still feel the need. She did have a certain way of mothering just about everything in sight -- to a certain extent at least. There were very few people for whom Ivy cared. Harls was lucky to be one of those few, and even luckier still that Ivy cared for her to the length she did. But she'd seen it time and again. It wasn't that Ivy hated people per say; it was much rather that she hated what they did to all living beings around them. That was why she had rescued Harley in the first place, as she'd confessed to her on their last anniversary: She had seen the remains of something beautiful and mostly innocent having been all but destroyed by mankind and had yearned to rescue it, to rescue her.

And boy howdy, had she ever! Harley let out a giggle as she gently pulled on one of the vines hanging down from the trees. Several more vines came swooping down to her, wrapping around her gently but securely and lifting her from the ground. They carried her up to a new canopy that Harley had just made that afternoon with their assistance. She was still getting used to the idea of being able to make things without having to force those involved, but every plant, from the tallest redwood to the youngest sapling, absolutely loved their Ivy in this domain, and they all wanted her to be happy.

Her hyenas yipped, and she blew them kisses. "You boys will be fine," she called down to them. Tonight, when Ivy did finally get in, Harley was going to make sure she understood just how much they all valued her, especially herself. She was going to have her carried to this canopy, where she would massage her every muscle, and then she was going to have Ivy lowered into the bubbling, warm, healing springs. She'd join her there and feed her her favorite soil and nutrients by fingertips, even ingest some of the (ugh) mess herself (she hated it but Ivy loved it and that was what mattered), make love to her there, and rub her down again. All the while, the pussy willows and weeping willows would be swaying, making beautiful, peaceful music.

When they were done in the springs, she'd have her lifted again, carried this time back up to the canopy which will have been lifted higher. At her signal, the trees will spread their bushy tops, and Ivy will delight at the stars shining in the sky. She reached down, lifted a particular, purple flower from the canopy's bed, and tucked it behind her ear. Instantly she felt the canopy lift. She clutched the sides out of habit far more than any fear or doubt in the trees that were lifting her. Just as Ivy had come to adore Harley's hyenas over their years together, Harley had likewise come to be able to put her trust not just in Ivy but in her plant brethren as well. They all shared one particular, very important thing in common, and they all wanted Ivy to feel loved and to be happy. To that end, Harley knew, Ivy's plants would always protect her rather Ivy herself was there or not.

"What do you think?" she asked, settling back into the canopy's bed and resting her pigtailed head on her crossed arms. She blew a bubble with her pink gum. "Think she'll love it?"

There was a soft rustling, and vines came together to form two small holes. A limb lifted up and curved underneath the makeshift eyes, altogether giving Harley a big, happy smile. "Everything's going right in the springs, right?" she asked, just to make certain. She couldn't imagine what could go wrong, but she wanted to be sure everything was perfect for Ivy when she came home that night. Ivy was always doing for them all. She'd made certain Harley had had a merry Christmas, a bombtastic Fourth of July, a hilarious April Fool's Day, and had felt genuinely loved and pampered on both her birthdays (the actual day she'd been born, and then again on the day when she had been remade in the Joker's image -- thank her lucky stars that thing was behind her now!) and Valentine's Day. The only day of the year that really mattered to her Pam-a-Lamb was Earth Day, and Harley was going to make certain that night was absolutely perfect. She was going to make sure Ivy knew just how much she loved her.

The trees parted, and the canopy swung gently low. Harley flipped over onto her bare stomach and looked over the canopy's edge. Sure enough, just below her, the healing springs bubbled softly. Steam rose up, its natural fragrance mixing with those of jasmine and rose buds. The willows began to play their music. Harley grinned and bounced her head in time to the slow, peaceful melody.

Tiger lilies were scattered around the spring, and they lifted their little, green petals in salute to Harley. One little stump guy dragged a bag that was bigger than he was filled with Ivy's favorite nutrients and soil. Harley couldn't seem to help making a disgusted face at the sight, even though it was cute, because she knew the taste was going to be horrid. It's all for Pam-a-lamb, she reminded herself.

Her gum had lost its flavor. She spat it out into the palm of her hand, and a vine swiftly took it away. She didn't know where things were discarded in this paradise Ivy had created for them, but she knew it would be the most eco-efficient way possible. She held her breath for a moment, and then she looked down at the single tulip floating on top of the only lily pad in the springs. "Okay, let's see it."

The tulip opened its bud to reveal a velvet box. Just as Harls didn't understand the work Ivy did, Ivy had never understood why she had been so determined to run her own, little Internet business for months selling both greeting cards and all kinds of gags and pranks under the sun. That box, and especially its content, were the very reasons why Harley had insisted on running her own business, and not even stealing, for the months she had. She leaned further over the canopy as a pussy willow bent down and carefully opened the velvet box. Then she grinned and nodded her head at the gleam of gold that sparkled up at her.

Everything was perfect! Everything was going to be perfect, and everything was going to stay perfect! There was nothing that could go wrong with her plan tonight, and very soon, Ivy was going to realize that Earth Day wasn't just about the Earth after all but about celebrating its, and her, greatest savior. She sighed happily and decided perhaps she had earned a quick catnap after all. Besides, she had no idea when Ivy would get home today, just that she would. Sometimes it took her days, sometimes weeks, but she always, always came home to her.

She was so vastly unlike J. The Joker had always promised her things, and had never once delivered on anything good. Ivy had given her this entire world which she had built not through fear, terror, or violence but through love. Everything that lived in this place owed its life to her, including Harley herself. She felt, rather than saw, the face the trees were making at her. She smiled back at them and nodded in confidence. "She's gonna love it." It was far pass time they started giving back to their Queen, to their Earth Mother, and what better day to do that than on Earth Day?

On the very first day they could, Harley thought, glowing with happiness. She should've done this long before, but Ivy had waited for her patiently -- even if Harley had thought she'd been the one doing the patient waiting. Ivy had always treated her with love, compassion, and patience. She had given her an entire world, and tonight, or whenever she did make it home, Harley was going to show her once and for all that whereas Ivy might have given her a world, it was Ivy herself who had become Harley's whole world.

She loved the woman with a passion that ran far deeper, and flowed both more powerfully and more peacefully, than the obsession she'd felt for the Joker. She had become not just her new obsession but the very love and light of Harley's once utterly dark and miserable life. She was her savior, her love, her Queen, and tonight, Harley was going to make it all official. She was going to let Pam-a-lamb know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, what they all thought of her, how much they all loved her, and how much she always would, and by the end of this next week, they were going to be Doctor and Doctor Isley. Harley beamed as she drifted off to the pleasant dreams she always had when she fell asleep thinking of the woman she loved and who in turn, blessed miracle of miracles, genuinely loved her back.

The End

Jessie's Song

2022-04-30T01:43:34Z

Title: Jessie's Song
Fandom: Saved by the Bell
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Slater/Jessie, mild Zack/Kelly, mentioned Screech/Lisa
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: A deeper look into Jessie's Song in a series of missing scenes taking place from Jessie's and Slater's POVs.
Word Count: 5046
Written For: Lands of Magic: Challenge 9.05: Missing Scene (If you join, tell them Apache Firecat of Team Winter sent YOU!)
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

"JESSICA SPANO!"

Jessie jumped up in her seat, her blurry eyes popping open. She wasn't in class -- that was a small miracle --, but her mother's angry, disapproving face leered ahead of her instead. Something deep within Jessie cringed just as it always did whenever her mother looked at her in such a manner. She only wanted her mother to be happy. Her joy and approval was all she had ever wanted since her louse of a father had abandoned them both.

"Sorry," she murmured, rubbing her eyes open. She heard her mother's shape intake of breath and squared her shoulders, knowing what was about to come.

"Don't be sorry," her mother snapped just as she'd snapped so many times before. "Be better! Jessie," she questioned, surprising her child as she took a minute out of her busy schedule and actually sat down beside her, "how many times do I have to tell you? Men aren't there for us women. You've seen that with your dad, and with your brother. We have to make this world a better place. We have to make this world a place we can live in, a place in which we want to live. You're not going to succeed on your own if you don't get good grades and a Stanford education." She reached over the table and squeezed her daughter's hand. "I don't want you to have to work as hard as I do just to pay bills and keep a roof over your child's head when the time comes."

Jessie unconsciously tucked her head. "Yes, Momma," she murmured.

Doctor Spano slid her chair back. The loud scraping sound seemed almost to reverberate in the suddenly silent kitchen. "What have you had to drink this morning?" her mother demanded, her concerned tone vanished in her usual, snappy rapport.

Jessie blinked uncertainly at the question. Her mother had stopped counting her calories some years ago, trusting her to do right for herself and her body in at least that category. "Hum, apple juice?"

"Drink some coffee."

"I don't like coffee." Jessie made a face. "It's so bitter -- "

"Did I ask if you like its taste, young lady? It's loaded with caffeine and will keep you awake today. Were you up late studying for that geometry test?"

Jessie blinked in surprise again. Her head jerked up, and she faced her mother again. "What else would I have been up late doing?" she demanded, grimacing a second later at how sharp her own tongue sounded. Just because her mother always spoke to her in such a tone did not give her the right to speak to her own mother in the same way! After all, this woman slaved just so that she could have clean clothes to wear to school, healthy meals in her belly, and a roof over her head! "I'm sorry," she instantly apologized, "but really, Mom, what else?"

"Well," her mother lamented as she poured coffee into a second cup, a large mug that Jessie had not seen used since her father had left them. It had been his mug. "You are getting to be that age."

"What age, Momma?"

"The age where you start getting interested in boys. Don't you forget, Jessica Spano, we Spanos do not fall prey to their easy eyes and easy lies."

"Yes, ma'am. I won't," Jessie answered immediately, but almost as fast, a certain cute, dimple-faced classmate popped his worrisome image into her mind. She shoved him away mentally. Boys were nothing but troublesome distractions, and A.C. Slater was one of the worst of his kind!

Her mother plopped her father's loaded coffee cup down in front of her. The porcelain striking the wood made a loud ringing sound throughout the small kitchen. Jessie grimaced not just because of the sound but also because of the awful taste she knew was coming. Nonetheless she lifted the steaming mug in both hands and began to dutifully drink.

=^_^=

"Did you see Jessie in school today?"

"Yeah, the poor thing looked exhausted! I'm telling you that girl is going to study herself to death!"

Kelly frowned. "Do you think that's really possible, Lisa?"

"If it's possible, Jessie Spano is going to do it! I'm telling you that girl takes school way too seriously!"

"Yeah, I guess, but our education is important. It's important we're able to get into good schools, earn good scholarships, and build good careers for ourselves and for our future families!" For just a moment, Kelly's mind slipped away from her friends as she wondered what she could become, what kind of a wife she could make for Zack, what kind of mother to his children, and what kind of future they could build together for them all.

"Honey, I don't know about you," Lisa said, surveying her freshly painted fingernails with a critical eye, "but I'm going to marry rich!"

"Is that why you won't give Screech a chance?"

Lisa burst out laughing. Kelly considered the implications of her query and the dork in question for just a moment before she joined Lisa's laughter with her own. "I'm sorry!" she gasped, still laughing as she shook her head. "It's just -- He does try so hard!" And he was Zack's best friend. She did sometimes hurt for the poor, little fellow whose entire universe seemed to revolve around her friend. "You could at least be a little nicer to him!"

Lisa shivered. "If he wasn't so creepy, I might try to be nicer, but he creeps me out, Kels! Come on! Let's go see if Jessie's here!"

"Even if she is," Kelly spoke worriedly, "I bet she's still studying -- "

"You know she is! And there is more to life than those stuffy, old textbooks!" Lisa looked through the glass of the Max's door. "Yep, she's in there all right, still drinking that awful coffee and studying!"

"We've got to get her to take a break! But how are we going to pull her away? She's so worried about that test!"

"Come on. Follow me. I've got a plan. For Jessie," Lisa murmured, bursting through the door and heading straight for the jukebox. She'd seen Screech at their booth too and knew he was probably going to be floored and all kinds of creepy romantic the moment he heard her sing! She was never going to live this one down, but it was a small sacrifice, she supposed, to help their friend. Besides, Screech was going to stalk her no matter what she did.

=^_^=

"C? C?!" Jessie couldn't believe her ears! She never made worse grades than her friends -- or the entire rest of any of their classes for that matter! There had to have been a mistake! She'd felt confident she'd at least made a B-, and then when everyone around her, even Zack, had made a B+, she had began to foolishly relax, believing that she must have actually scored at least an A-. But the big, red mark on her paper was clearly, and horribly, a C. It wasn't fair! It couldn't be! She turned in her seat as she felt her stomach lurching.

Slater watched her squirm. Her sharp exclamations hurt his ears, but they did something else instead. He'd never seen the strong, beautiful woman before him show such... Fear. Panic. Those were the only words that fit the way Jessie, who always matched if not bested him in everything they did, even outwitting him constantly in barbs, was doing. She was more than worried about this test, he realized; the one woman he'd thought incapable of fear was afraid of making a bad grade! It was just one test...

"Si, senorita," their teacher remarked in an offensive tone that made Slater's biceps flex unconsciously and his dark fingers begin to curl into fists, "but this is Geometry, not Spanish." He couldn't believe the way their teacher spoke to the best student in the class, a strong, beautiful woman who was clearly bordering on a panic attack over a single, stupid, bad grade. It was teachers like this little puny, scrawny guy who never did anything to help the students who actually failed, something Slater had seen time and again throughout the schools his father had dragged him through before he'd come here to Bayside and he'd finally been allowed to stay somewhere.

Slater was trying to think of a retort that wouldn't get him, and possibly Jessie too, into trouble when the bell rang. "Whelp, study hard," Dewey continued. "I'm off to my tryouts for American Gladiators." Slater almost burst out laughing. He clearly didn't have to do anything to the shrimp! The Gladiators would beat him up more than well enough for Jessie and any other students his callousness may also be hurting. Slater didn't really care about those other students, but for some reason, he found himself almost.. desperate to find a way to help Jessie.

Jessie moved to the front of the class before he could speak to her, and he collected his things as he listened to Jessie's friends not do a very good job at all of cheering her up. They were far more worried about gym class -- which he, of course, wouldn't mind seeing -- than they were about some test that they probably both thought was silly. But Slater had known students like Jessie in the past. Of course, the hot momma took worrying about her grades to an entirely new level, but he could tell she was genuinely freaking out over them. She needed someone to help her, and to be a real friend, as the gang had, for the most part, been to him almost since the day he had been at this school.

"Now, look, Jessie," he said, approaching her even though he realized, the moment his mouth opened, there was a chance she might be too prideful and rebuff his offer to help, "if you're worried about that test, I'll help you study." He watched the sharp intake of her cheekbones, but determinedly kept what he knew was a charming grin on his own face. He meant her no harm, and he did genuinely care about this babe. But if she refused his offer, there would be nothing more he could do. And he would find a way to make himself stop caring about her, he promised himself. There were people, after all, in the world who simply could not be helped not because no one was capable of giving them the help they needed but rather because they would not accept the help offered.

Slater had himself braced for her denial, and possibly even angry retort, when she surprised him by nodding. "Okay. My house at seven?"

"I'll be there," he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers. He was still expecting her usual cut downs and decided to beat her to the proverbial punch. Slapping her shoulder, he told her, "Stop worrying. You're pretty smart for a chick."

"Slater -- " she started, shaking her head.

He realized two things in a flash: One, she had not been about to insult him after all, and two, his remark might just cost her the help she so clearly needed. He recovered swiftly, however, pointing a finger in her face, grinning, and remarking, "See? Got your mind off it already."

=^_^=

"You can't let everybody down."

"We need you, Jessie."

Her best friends' echoed in her mind as Jessie tried to get into the spirit of looking at the possible costumes Lisa had found. The leotards were all going to be tight and form fitting, she knew. Even the biggest, roomiest of them would leave very little, if indeed anything, to the imagination. She did not wear such clothing!

Kelly's voice caught her attention as she murmured, running her fingertips over brightly colored cloth. "I wonder what Zack will think of me in this?"

Lisa playfully shoved her friend's shoulder. "You know that boy's crazy about you no matter what you wear!"

Or don't wear... Jessie thought but did not voice. Wearing such tight and bearing clothing went against everything she had been taught to stand for, but she couldn't help wondering what Slater would think of her in the outfit she held. She couldn't help wondering what he would think of her dance moves, of her voice, of her... She knew the guy was trouble. He was a jock like her absent father, and worse. He cut down on the female gender at every opportunity.

Yet he had been so sweet the other night when he'd actually helped her study. He seemed to be the only one who truly understood her predicament and wanted to help her, not just demand things of her as her mother and friends did. That wasn't fair to her mom though, Jessie thought. Her mother was always doing for her, and all she asked in return was that Jessie work hard to build a good future for herself. A.C. Slater was not the kind of guy who could ever make a good husband!

Thank God he hadn't accepted her marriage proposal! Jessie shook her head. The guy was trouble, definitely, and yet she'd been, and remained, so desperate to ace this test that she'd offered her hand in marriage, her future! And she'd kissed him.

She didn't realize she was rocking slowly as she clutched the leotard to her chest. That kiss had been the single most wonderful moment of her life thus far! She had acted on what she wanted to do purely for herself in the present moment, with no regard to her future. And it had felt wonderful!! His lips had felt wonderful, and his response had been so sweet and charming! "I'm never going to wash this lips again," he had said, clearly indicating that he, the hottest guy in school, had clearly wanted her kiss!

And what? her logical mind argued. If he wants your virginity, are you going to give that to him too? How about your future? Are you going to throw it all away on a guy like your mother almost did hers?

"Jessie?! Jessie?! Earth to Jessie!!"

Lisa's dark hand waving impatiently in front of Jessie's face finally snapped her out of her daydream. "Girl, you were starting to snore!"

Jessie blinked. "Was I?"

"Yeah." Kelly nodded, looking more concerned than annoyed.

Lisa snatched the leotard out of Jessie's hands and headed, with Kelly trailing behind her with the rest of the clothes, to the counter. "We're getting these, and you're wearing these," Lisa called back to Jessie over her shoulder.

To the surprise of both of her friends, Jessie didn't argue, but with nobody watching, she did quickly swallow two more caffeine pills. She had promised Slater she would stop taking them, and she would -- after this was all over. How else was she going to be there for everybody and be what everybody wanted and needed her to be? She was no longer sleeping more than three or four hours at best every night, and most nights, she didn't even get that much sleep. She would stop taking them, as Slater wanted, when all of this was over, but in the meantime... She grinned as she wondered again what he would think of her in the leotard.

=^_^=

Her mother had not been wrong! Jessie fumed as she poured herself another cup of coffee. The caffeine pills helped a lot, but Slater was partially right, as much as it pained her to admit it even to herself. He had overstepped and shown his true, controlling, pig qualities, but she didn't need to be on medication all the time. She was a strong, intelligent, and healthy woman. She just needed a little help right now, and the pills and coffee were going to be exactly the help she needed.

Slater didn't really know what he was talking about, and he had no right to try to control her! He wasn't her father -- or even her boyfriend yet for that matter! From the way he talked to her, he would never be her boyfriend! She didn't need a boyfriend! She didn't need a man, and she did not want anyone in her life who was just going to control her!

"Today's the day, isn't it?" her mother's voice suddenly sounded from behind her.

Jessie jumped and whirled around with two large cups of coffee in her hands. She thrust one at her mom with a big grin. "It is, and I'm going to beat it!"

"Of course you are, darling," her mother replied with a confidence-boosting smile. She accepted the coffee with a nod. "You found out this helps, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am! It helps a lot! I have so much energy, even after being up all last night studying!"

Her mother frowned. "How much sleep did you get, Jessica?"

"Not a wink, but I don't need it! I'm strong! I'm healthy! I'm intelligent! I know what I'm doing!"

"Yes." Her mother paused to take a sip of the coffee. It was the first time that she had not had to make her own coffee first thing in the morning in years. She smiled at her daughter, but her aging eyes couldn't hide her worry. "I'm proud of you, Jessica. You're going to ace that test, and you're going to get into Stanford and get that education you deserve! But do get some sleep tonight, okay?"

"Of course, Mom." Jessie rolled her eyes. "I just won't go out and party all night with the guys."

"Of course you won't, dear. You're a Spano after all." With that, her mother went about her day, leaving Jessie to turn back and take another dose. She just needed to get through today, she reminded herself, and then she wasn't going to take another caffeine pill. Ever. She made a face as she cleansed her mouth with the taste with coffee, which, even with all the sugar she'd piled into it, was still bitter.

=^_^=

Slater pounded the ball repeatedly against the side of the gymnasium, the one place left in the place where he'd formerly felt comfortable throughout for the first time in his life, the place that was more of his home than any house had ever been, than he'd once thought anywhere would ever be able to be. He hit it again and again as the memories of the last few days played havoc in his mind. He'd thought he was falling in love, and maybe he was, but if he was, she was no good for him! Just as his father had always warned him, girls and friendships were trying to get in the way of success in his own, actual life!

Slater hit the ball again and again, each strike faster and harder than the one before it. She didn't care! She didn't care about him, and she didn't care how much she was hurting herself! Zack didn't care either! It had taken everything within him, arguing with himself all night long and all the next morning, before he'd finally gone to Preppie for help. And then the little, blonde punk had just rebuffed him, telling him he didn't know what he was talking about and that he wasn't going to listen to him talking about his friend! Hell, Jessie was more than a friend to him! She was --

The ball exploded. Before Slater could react, a voice cut in to his reverie. "Hey! Hey! Hey!"

Slater picked up the remains of the basketball from which hot air was still whistling. "I'm sorry, Mister Belding. I'll replace it if you want me to."

Richard surveyed the deflating basketball, but then his eyes touched those of his students. Something was bothering the young man deeply, and he knew A.C. Slater, son of a top five-star General, already had far more than was fair for him with which to be dealing on a daily basis. Something had happened to make that worse. Something, Richard was sure, with his close-knit set of friends. He'd always wanted friends like Slater and Zack had, and never had them. "What's wrong, A.C.?" he asked, frowning in deep concern.

"I..." Slater tossed the flattening ball around in his big, strong hands. Belding did not want to be that ball. "I have this friend, Mister Belding," he finally answered at length. "I think she's in trouble, but nobody will listen to me. I tried to help her. She just got mad. I tried to talk to a mutual friend and get him to help me help her, but he just got mad too."

Belding's frown deepened. "So it's a girl, huh?"

"Yeah, but we're just friends."

"Yeah..." He stopped himself from saying 'yeah, right'. His student needed a friend, and he knew the boy had none of those at home. He also clearly didn't have any right now. If it was a girl, he'd be willing to lay money on it being Kelly, Lisa, or Jessie. His mind flashed back to the other day at the Max when Jessie, who was usually his top student in all subjects, had nervously approached him. Something had seemed somehow different in her when she'd left that day. He wasn't used to Jessie being so nervous, or so angry, and he had never seen such fiery determination in any student before. "Is it Jessie?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Slater licked his lips, and his dark eyes darted away, telling Richard despite the boy's answer that it was indeed Jessica Spano, one of the few students he'd never thought would be reached by drugs or anything really bad. "I'd rather not say."

"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have asked for her identification. Whoever it is, Slater, you can only help them if they're willing to receive that help. If it gets really bad and you think there's an intervention needed, I'll be happy to help you, but I will have to have her name at that point. But most of my students are actually pretty smart," he said, his eyes touching the boy's again, "and Jessie is one of the smartest. Be there for her, whoever she is. Be ready for when she's willing to accept the help, and you'll be able to give her that help."

"You really think so?" Slater asked, tilting his dark, curly head in thought.

Richard nodded. "With this gang, I really do. I've seen a lot of students come through these hallways, son, but this group really is something special. I've never seen friendship like what you and your friends have. I know whoever it is, you can bring her through this when she's ready."

"Thanks, Mister B," Slater replied earnestly, grabbing his hands. For one quick moment, Belding thought Slater was going to hug him, but instead the boy walked away, leaving the deflated basketball in his hands.

=^_^=

One by one, her friends filed out of her room. It was over... in some ways, but in other ways, it was just beginning. Her mother had agreed to take her to counseling, but she was pissed. Doctor Spano had never spoken to her in such a manner as she had when Zack had finally gotten her over the phone, and it hadn't helped that he had yelled at her that she should come home because her daughter needed her. Her mother never left work early... not for anyone.

The events afterward had been a blur, but somehow, Zack had managed not only to calm her down but to close her into the bathroom so she could take a long, calming soak, somehow, she was pretty sure, without seeing anything he should not have. It must have been then that he had made the call to tell the gang what had happened. "Hey," Zack asked as the others were all getting ready to leave, "how did you guys know what was happening?"

Kelly paused and looked back from Jessie's doorway. "Slater told us."

Jessie gazed at the boy who seemed ever more present every time she closed her eyes, and whose company she seemed to be starting to want all the time. "You knew," she whispered, but her words went unheard as Screech spoke, making a face.

"Yeah, he made me have to do your part!"

Slater laughed. "You tried," he admitted, and Screech jumped, wincing in pain, as the wrestler's hand smacked his shoulder. "You did your best, and I appreciate it."

"We all do," Zack added.

"Yeah, Screech, that was really sweet, and, Jessie, I'm really sorry I wasn't there for you. Maybe you need to stop taking things so seriously all the time, but I need to learn to be a better friend."

"Kelly, it wasn't your fault -- "

"Kelly, hold on," Zack called as she left, "let me walk you home. I'll be checking on you," he told Jessie before running after his girlfriend.

Screech looked back and forth between Jessie and Slater. Slater leered. "I think I hear Kevin calling," he yelped and started to run for the door.

"Kelly's right," Jessie called after him. "That was sweet, Screech. Thank you." Left alone finally with the one person she'd thought wouldn't show, but had actually shown up with the sweet-smelling flowers Jessie was still holding, the first flowers she'd ever received, she gazed up at Slater. "And thank you," she enthused. "I didn't think you'd show. I really didn't think you'd forgive me."

"Of course I would." He picked up her chair from her desk, brought it over, and set it beside her bed. He straddled it and looped his arms over its back. Their eyes met, and a strange, fluttering sensation filled both their bodies. "I was just waiting for you to climb down off your high horse."

"I really am sorry I was so mean to you -- "

"Hey, forget about it. Like I already told you, I like that you're so mean to me." He seemed almost to shiver before her as his muscles flexed involuntarily. "You make me want to be better, Jessie, in all ways. You don't just see my body and go wild for the muscles." He charmingly flashed his dimples at her. "Or the face."

"Well, I mean, I've seen better faces -- "

"There's my Momma," he declared, grinning truthfully from ear to ear.

And there, she thought, surprising herself, could be my Poppa. But he wasn't her poppa! Her mother was wrong: not all guys were like her lying, deserting father!

"Do you want to come closer?" she asked softly, not realizing what she was inviting.

Their eyes locked again, and they stayed that way for a long moment. "Jessie," Slater finally spoke, "there is nothing I want more in this world than another kiss from you. But not while you're laying in that bed. Not while you're still sick." Not, he thought, but did not voice, while you're still vulnerable. "How about I take you out for a burger and maybe a movie in a week or two when you've beat this thing?"

"I'd like that," she quickly agreed, her beautiful eyes shining, "Poppa."

He grinned, and the sight thereof was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Mind if I sit with you for a while?"

"Not at all." She was beaming, practically glowing; he'd never seen anything, or one, sweeter or more beautiful.

Her mother was wrong, she thought, gazing into Slater's handsome, dark eyes. Not all guys were like her father! There were guys capable of helping a woman build a better world, and maybe, just maybe, A.C. Slater definitely was one of those guys. She couldn't wait to get better! She couldn't wait to see what the future held in store for them -- and what it would be like to be on the arm of not a wrestler or a jock but of a sweet, caring, confident, and perhaps not too dumb man!

"So what do you want to go see?" he asked. "What kind of movies do you like? What's your favorite?" They began to talk there at her bedside, where they'd be for the next several, long hours to come.

=^_^=

Slater slammed the basketball against the gymnasium wall, making several students wince and scurry by. He was pissed, and nobody wanted to be around A.C. Slater when he was as furious as he currently was! Jessie's husband, ex though he was now, major idiot that he clearly had always been, the man who had been lucky enough to somehow earn the best, most beautiful, and smartest woman Slater had ever known had taken her caffeine!

And Slater had ended up holding her while she'd cried when no one else could see them. He had held his friend, and he had been her rock, as he'd been all those years ago. All those years when their romance had just been beginning and their friendship deepening. All those years before life had gotten in their way. He'd let her go, because she'd deserved better than him, but she certainly hadn't gotten better!

But what was he to offer her? he thought, catching the ball and realizing that he'd done it again. Hot air was whistling and whooshing out from the rapidly deflating basketball. His arms dropped; his shoulders slunked. Maybe Jess had chosen to marry a scum bag, but at least he'd been an intelligent scum bag. He had nothing to offer her! His life was still at Bayside for Christ's sake!

He had nothing to offer her... but his friendship. He whipped his phone out and dialed the number he knew by heart. "Hey, Jess, wanna go see a movie? They're playing a documentary I think you'll like." He smiled, his dimples gleaming in the gym's harsh light, as she spoke with excitement and enthusiasm, sounding eager for the first time in weeks. He knew more than most that what a lot of people truly needed was a genuine friend. He could at least be that for her until the next dork came along to sweep his Queen away from her. After all, he was only a stupid jock. He hadn't deserved her all those years ago, and he certainly didn't now. But he could, and would always, be her friend.

The End

Trying to Get Back

2022-04-28T02:46:53Z

Hello, all. I've been debating with myself for about a week now what to say, because I really, REALLY don't want to talk about my absence this time. I'm also still working on figuring out an Internet/RL balance as there's just SO much going on right now. But I AM DETERMINED to get back to being here regularly.

I ended up having to let go of the call center, which had been how I'd been doing most of my writing/online activities. I almost had a stroke twice on that floor. Two other agents DID have strokes. I quit the last time I came close to having a stroke. And still had a miscarriage the next week.

So yeah, don't wanna talk about it, but I'm working on getting back here. J and I are also at new, much better, and better paying jobs but are having to commute over one hour one way. Debating what to do about that too, but one step at a time.

Have any of y'all ever tried living in a hotel?

Stealing a Sweet Moment

2022-04-07T01:40:11Z

Title: Stealing a Sweet Moment
Author/Artist: Apache Firecat
Dedicated To: My own darling Angel, who always finds a way to brighten my day, no matter how frantic and even insane it may be <3 <3 <3
Rating: PG-13/T
Warnings: None
Word Count: 700
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created for fun and no profit has been made. Rights belong to the respective creators.
Notes: None
Summary: Piper's having a bad day, but it's about to get better....

She was trying not to scream. Her Monday had been a day from Hell itself, it seemed like, with very little sleep the night before as she and her sisters had had to save the world yet again and a crazed morning when she'd ended up having to change her entire outfit after her older sister, Prue, who'd rarely actually acted the role of big sister to her, had ran through the kitchen in such a hurry to her supposedly more important job that she had splashed Piper's business suit with her scalding hot cup of coffee. Leo had had just a second to heal her burns before he'd had to orb away, and the only one of her family she'd heard from since had been Phebs, who had popped in long enough to try to get Piper to help her on what she thought was another Demon case.

Piper was beyond exhausted of Demons, and not just Demons! She was beyond exhausted of angry, screaming customers and of employees who did not want to do their jobs or, like in this poor worker's case, were simply too inept for their own good. She knew it wasn't Raymond's fault that he had just lost another entire tray. If she'd been a moment faster, she could have saved the glasses. She knew, too, that he was doing everything he could to learn how to properly wait tables and had a new wife and a baby at home. Piper ground her teeth together and shoved her fingers through her long, dark hair. If she'd been a second faster, she could have saved the glassware, but she'd just gotten off of the phone after spending a stressful hour trying to get the bands' schedules straightened out.

She closed her eyes for a moment and tried her best to calm her nerves as Raymond stuttered in front of her. "P-Pl-Please, Miss Halliwell, I'll get it right. Just... Just take them out of my schedule."

"You're not fired, Raymond. Just... Just go for a smoke break or something!" She needed to start smoking! Everybody said that helped people's nerves, and if she took one more blow today, she was going to blow!

Raymond had barely left from in front of her when Piper felt a telltale shift in the air currents around her. She opened her eyes and raised her hands. She froze her customers and staff alike, something, she reflected with the tiniest beginnings of a grin, she should start doing more often for her own sake -- if the Powers That Be didn't always put such a heavy tax on using one's powers for their own gain! But it wasn't just for her sake, she thought quickly, but for everybody else's too, and besides, she had to keep employed and keep the family running, especially if they were going to have to keep saving the world on a nightly basis!

It wasn't a Demon who appeared in front of her, however, but rather her own husband, who appeared as frenzied and hectic as she felt. "Leo?"

He wrapped his arms around her, dipped her low, pressed his lips to hers, and placed a bag of what she would, in the next few minutes, discover to be a bag of chocolate kisses in her other hand. When he stood her back on her feet, Piper blinked, still feeling breathless but in a completely different and wonderful way. "Wh-What?"

"It's been a busy, hard day for me, and I know it has been for you too. Take out tonight -- don't cook -- and in the mean time, I just..." He blushed that sweet, boyish blush she loved so much. "I just wanted to add a little sweetness to your day to brighten your mood."

"You definitely did that!"

"I've gotta go," he said, speaking as rushed and breathless as she felt, but he kissed her again before orbing out just as his tongue touched hers. Piper released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and turned back to the busy environment of P3 just as everything, and one, unfroze.

"Piper -- "

"Miss Halliwell -- "

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," she spoke, smiling, with confidence.

The End

Future Together

2022-04-07T01:24:28Z

Title: Future Together
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Beast/Iceman, Professor X/Magneto, Gambit/Rogue
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: The X-Men finally relax, but some long for more.
Word Count: 400
Written For: slashthedrabble 656: Spring Break
Warnings: Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

Hank chuckled as Bobby whooped, encouraging the kids as they slid and splashed in the yard. These days, the X-Men were keeping an even lower radar than the last few decades, but between Bobby and Ororo, they had given the children their own private beach in the once lush and green backyard of Xavier's. "You could join them, you know," he said, his voice bordering on a purr. He loved how childlike his husband managed to remain after all the battles and traumas through which they had suffered over the years.

"Nah," Bobby said, laying back down on the grass. He pushed his sunglasses back up on the bridge of his nose, folded his arms beneath his brown head, and shrugged. "Besides, they'd only crimp my style."

Lounging beside him on the blanket Remy had provided, Rogue laughed. Hank chuckled again and grinned broadly. Remy caught his eye. "Were we ever dat young, mon ami?"

He sighed and enjoyed the gentle breeze blowing over his thick fur. "It seems a century ago," he lamented, "I know."

What he did not realize, what none of them knew, was that in the very spot where they now laid, two other men had stood forty years prior. They had stood and watched a dozen young teenagers playing a rough game of tag in the Spring breeze, and although they had laughed, they had sobered with the very same thought. "Were we ever that young, Charles?"

"A lifetime ago, Erik," had come the response that now seemed to echo on the breeze, in a dimension both near and far from those living.

Charles smiled and took Erik's hand where he stood beside him. "We were. At least they can enjoy the experience."

"But now we're free to enjoy each other and our lives."

"Or rather, afterlives, you mean, Erik?"

"Potato, potatoe, Charles. All that I care is we are together and free of that trivial, burdening world at last." He raised his lover's hand to his lips and freely kissed him. Then, with Charles' hand clutched in his, he lifted them into the warm, jovial sky. They had no more limits, and no more children with whom to contend or watch over, even if Charles did insist on visiting far too often.

"Did you hear that?" Hank murmured, but Bobby just shook his head. Watching him, Hank longed for a brighter and long future.

The End