to shade or obscure

     The fact others might find this situation weird didn’t really faze Mim. She’d been weird as long as she could remember, never quite fitting in most places–or any place, really, until she met Ian and Lang. At the same time, it sort of made her self-conscious. Even though she’d only known Mick for a short time, she really liked her.

      And scaring her off–scaring any potential friend off–by being too weird or eager was the last thing she wanted.

     She wanted to ask her again, just to triple check that it was fine, when Mick spoke instead. The gold in Mim’s eyes stood out all the more, veritably shining with excitement.

     “Yeah, yeah. I noticed that. Some just don’t touch each other as much as they like or should, but it’s a comfort thing.” Her smile grew when the topic shifted to her roommates. “Well, there’s Lang. He’s really sweet. He’s a werewolf,” she offered, without considering that maybe she should keep that quiet. “And Ian, he’s sweet too, but he’s grumpier. I guess because he’s half vampire? I don’t know.”

“Ooh, how are you a half vampire? Like, what does that mean? He drinks blood but the sun doesn’t make him explode?” 

She was really curious, immediately rambling again along with Mim.

     Honestly, it didn’t really matter. Unlike her older sister, and her mother, and most other witches she knew, she wasn’t as comfortable with her body. The idea of anyone seeing her undress was such an intimacy. And sharing a bed. 

     All she could do was just shake her head and feel the warmth in her cheeks when she pressed her hand to it.

     The answer came so succinctly, so biting, that Vinnie couldn’t question it. A curse. Of course. A curse made sense. The woman wasn’t a shifter or some sort of demon, but cursed. “Oh. Okay.” It came out with her sharply exhaled breath. “What–what kind of curse?” As soon as she asked it, she dismissed the question with another rough shake of her head. It was stupid to ask, at least right now. It was a curse that turned her into a cat. That was simple enough.

     But curses were never simple. 

     What had she done to be cursed? Now that was a question that needed to be asked and answered. Yet, Vinnie couldn’t muster up the courage to ask.

     Instead, she ventured a little closer. “So, uh, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Blackie. I mean, I could, but that’s… dumb.”

“Tara. It’s only slightly less dumb than Blackie, so.”

Tara had never cared much for her name, but it was the kind of not-caring that didn’t make her care enough to try to change it. Besides, by the time she was free from her home, everyone knew her as Tara and she didn’t really feel like complicating her life any.

Keep things simple and moving and shit, and everything would be a lot easier.

She held back a mean comment about what kind of curse it was, and instead looked at Vinnie in a careful sort of way now when she was even closer. Tara probably looked a bit tense actually. That would be because she was, because she was pretty sure Vinnie would kick her out now, and that meant more streets. 

“Call me old fashioned,” Marcus replies to that comment about the news. “Need to watch the news to keep up. But I won’t bore you by being an old man.”

He smiles a little, hoping to put her at ease a little.

“And I’m sure. Come on, then. I can get you some shelter for the night at least, and a warm meal, if those are the kinds of things you’re interested in.”

“Yeah, I am. Thank you so much.”

She’s particularly interested in a warm meal, particularly if it’s something other than street food. She’s lived off junk for weeks and while what she’s eating doesn’t really matter to her, there’s something about fast food that has you unable to slow down and appreciate it. Probably because people are always coming and going, and when you’re on the run ...

But she’ll take what she can get. So long as she gets to rest for just a moment, she’ll feel a lot better.

So when he starts walking, she follows.

skadeglad​:

Brian gives Tim The Look again, but not as pointedly this time. These are fair riffs, he’ll admit that. Brian asked Jay, there’s literally no reason to be sorry. Apologizing for talking and having a passion is… sad, really. Jay probably doesn’t have a lot of friends. Not that Brian’s seen him around often, on campus or otherwise, but when he has it’s always been around Alex. Or alone.

Looks like a job for Brian.

“I think that’s really cool, dude!” Brian says, putting as much genuine interest into it as he can without sounding fake excited. It’s a fine art but he’s got it down to a T.

“You got any projects too?”

It doesn’t actually feel like a jab from Tim, honestly. It’s fair. Tim’s not being nice, but he’s kind of encouraging him in a way. Or at least telling  him to stop apologizing for himself.

It makes him like Tim a little more, but he’s distracted by it by Brian, who is suddenly friendly and that makes him feel good, too.

Is it possible Jay will make some friends out of this?

“I’m, uh, working on a self-referential abstract piece. It’s all still motion, mostly. I don’t have a title yet. I can show you guys, if you want, when it’s done.”

“Is there a difference between still motion and stop motion?” 

It’s a genuine question and Tim feels a little curious to know. Not exactly about Jay’s project, but sure, he’ll look at it, why not - more that this is something he doesn’t know about.

Tim’s the one who’s quiet now, which Jay simultaneously loves and really doesn’t. The silence is a sort of comfort, but being watched isn’t. The allowance of not constantly talking is a sort of comfort, but Tim being quiet when he was the one worried about it isn’t.

So after a minute more of making shadow puppets, bored and restless and frustrated, he drops his hands again. Turns the camera a little so it films out into the darkness, a horizon of asphalt and street lamps broken up by the occasional car.

Suddenly he says, more than asks, “You’ve always been medicated, I guess.”

“More or less.” 

Tim’s not exactly startled by the way Jay suddenly speaks up, but since Jay was the one who wanted silence in the first place he’s kind of surprised. Slightly put off by the fact that they’re now circling back to his own bullshit, but at the same time - there’s very little Jay doesn’t already know about that. Which, on the other hand, might explain why he feels a bit defensive about it.

But well, he’s been giving Jay his meds, so ... maybe he owes it to him or something. It’s hard to tell in these situations what’s right or wrong. It’s not like there’s any precedent. 

A sudden gust of wind has Tim pop the collar of his jacket.

“Okay, first of all, I am a stalker extraordinaire,” Steph says, scolding Mick–but playfully–at the laughter. Which is also probably not something you normally brag about. But Mick knows things now which makes her totally safe in a way she wouldn’t have otherwise been. Not that Steph hadn’t trusted Mick. But you can’t just… throw your super secret identity out there, you know.

But now she also knows that Mick is a cat. So.

“Second of all, god, he was such an ass. We went out on dates but he was just ‘Robin.’ He knew my name but I had no idea what his name was so I just called him by his secret identity. Which was kind of a ridiculous double standard but I was also, like, fifteen? It’s fine. I guess.”

“So what now?” 

She’s really curious. Like, really really curious. About everything, actually, since uh, Steph’s Batgirl. That’s a really big deal and sure they’re just talking about it but Mick’s having these little ping!s in her head like, reminder that Steph is Batgirl, and it makes her yell internally about it all over again.

closed starter for @skymma

He didn’t like stealing the drugs, but a little part of him was whispering in excitement as he rummaged round the room until he found them in the basket.

He didn’t like seeing Tim’s frantic search, didn’t like watching him convulse and seize on the floor, but the anticipation in his chest was hot and rumbling as he hid in the closet to watch it all unfold.

He hated to see him cry, but another him sneered in malicious, mirthless joy. B had to do this, but it serves him right as well.

Now, he’s running for Rosswood, and all those parts inside him are coming together like an unholy trifecta, a hot, pounding jumble in his body that reaches all the way up to his cheeks and out into his fingerstips and it’s like he’s full of gasoline, ready to burst into flames as so much the idea of a match.

A familiar white face comes into view through the murk and the trees. B’s feet are pounding the ground in time with his heartbeat so loud in his ears. The pale-faced shape closer closer closer now.

Got you now.

He leaps forward. Braces for impact. Body crashes into body, and they go tumbling into the grass.

Grass and dead leaves and dirt and twigs and rocks, all of it scraping at their clothes and hands and hidden faces. T feels like a bolt of lightning - unstable and chaotic and about to be unleashed when he tries to get the upper hand.

B’s not as strong as T is. It should be easy. But T’s still weakened from the convulsions that happened to the other him, his muscles are sore and spent and he’s bone-tired, but he’s still making himself do this, be this. 

B has betrayed him. Again.

T doesn’t really remember when they were last together or what happened then, but the angry, spiteful and hurt feelings come easily regardless of what memories he still has. And he has something to fight for in a way B doesn’t. 

His teeth are bared under his mask when he struggles under B’s grip. B knocked the breath out of him but he’s breathing quickly and he’s going to get back up, and he’s going to let B answer for what he’s done.

There it is. That’s what makes it real. It’s like something slaps some sense into Isaac, makes it really real that the shit his son has been through is so so much more. Maybe more than Isaac’s has ever been. Yes, they’ve both seen it. But how many people have died because of Isaac or his… abilities? Besides his mother.

People died. It can’t get worse.

Isaac regrets so many things.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” he says and his voice is soft. He steps up to Tim and hugs him, never mind the blood, never mind the stiff awkwardness of the hug. “I’m so sorry.”

Isaac has to try.

The hug rips a sob from Tim’s throat and he doesn’t care that it’s stiff and weird and awkward and that there’s blood, because this is the first kind of human affection he’s had since Jay uncertainly touched his shoulder one night and asked him if he was okay after he’d woken up from a nightmare and that was months ago and Jay’s dead -- 

so Tim wraps his arms around his dad and buries his face in his shoulder and feels himself shaking.