She held the food out to me, her face all soft and pleading. I don’t know how she did it, because she didn’t look older than her mid-twenties, and she was bone pale, too, but something about her expression suddenly reminded me of my mom.
PART THREE: ALEX & MAGGIE & KARA & JAMES & WINN & LENA & J’ONN & M’GANN
When Alex bought the new couch, first, she made sure it was wine resistant (because clumsy little sisters don’t grow out of clumsiness). Second, she found the biggest one that would fit in the apartment. After Maggie’s initial issues over the couch wore off, she remembers wondering why Alex would choose one so…large…for their little apartment.
Now, six months later, she totally gets it.
It sure doesn’t take long for that couch to feel small again. First, it’s Maggie and Alex. Then Maggie, Alex, and Kara. Pretty quickly it’s Maggie, Alex, Kara, Winn and James. Sometimes J’onn and M’gann. More recently, Lena.
Now J’onn and M’gann happily share the armchair, grinning, watching their kids fight over blankets and pillows and space, resettling and rearranging until everyone fits, until everyone is comfortable. Only when the rustling stops, when their breathing slows…only when they’re content and warm…only then does someone start the movie.
Tonight, Alex is cozied up on the couch with her little sister, just like when they were kids. Watching the same old movie, even sitting the same way: Kara curled up, her head in Alex’s lap, Alex unconsciously playing with Kara’s hair, and Kara with one hand tucked under Alex’s knee. She never knew—and still doesn’t know—why Kara does it, but she always has. This, right here, was the only thing that calmed her new alien sister all those years ago—dancing and singing and romance in black and white, the stillness of the room around her. Alex now suspects the simplicity of it all was comforting given the sensory overload Kara experienced most days on Earth—especially early on.
Only tonight, like more and more of their nights lately, it’s not the two of them anymore.
Snuggled into Alex’s other side is Maggie, their legs intertwined down the shorter end of the L-shaped couch. Alex has her other arm around Maggie’s shoulders, with Maggie’s arm resting across her stomach. At the far end of the couch is Winn, legs kicked out over the coffee table, feet sticking out under the blanket he’s sharing with Lena. She sits crosslegged next to him, leaning onto his shoulder with a giant bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap. James is between Kara and Lena; the former’s feet up against one thigh and the latter’s knee resting on the other. His knees are bent, feet pushing against the edge of the coffee table, one arm behind his head, the other over the back of the couch behind Lena.
Alex sees J’onn watching them from the recliner in the corner, M’gann sitting across his lap—eyes closed, head tucked in his shoulder, her legs draped over the opposite side of the chair and his arm over her shins. He settles his eyes on each of his kids in turn: Winn, Lena, James, Kara, Alex, then Maggie—snuggled up, content, and more than one blinking back sleep—and when he catches Alex looking back at him, he winks and she smiles.
She never would have thought all of them could be this relaxed, this…happy. She’d never even have guessed they’d fit on one couch—even one this big. Thinking back, she realizes it took Maggie and Kara bonding, and even Maggie and Alex fighting, for this moment to come together. She kisses Maggie on her temple, and leans into her fiancée’s shoulder
Because now, movie nights and game nights and…well, most nights, quite frankly…consist of more. More people. More laughter. More spills. More tears. More hugs. More cuddles. More…love.
So, so much more love than any of them ever thought they’d experience again.
“I don’t understand what I could’ve possibly done to deserve this.” Nesta said as Cassian handed her the dress she picked weeks ago especially for the celebration. “Whose bright idea was it to have a baby shower during the week of the summer solstice-” She broke off her sentence with a small shriek.
Cassian was immediately at her side. “What is it?” He placed his hands on her belly and scanned her for any injury.
“The damn dress ripped.”
“Then I’ll find you another one.” He headed to her armoire.
“No you won’t.” She looked down and couldn’t see her feet. She tried to calm herself by rubbing her belly and tracing the pattern of her tattoo, but it didn’t help. “That was the only dress that was going to fit.”
Walking to her, he tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. “What are you planning to wear?”
Cassian flashed a wicked smile. “Nothing? We shall cause a sensation then, I’ll dress to match.”
Nesta crossed her arms. “I mean I’m not going.”
“Because of a wardrobe malfunction? I’m sure we can find something.”
“Not just that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t walk, I waddle. I have to pee every twenty seconds, you hold my dress and never complain or make me feel disgusting but I still do and it’s horrible. My brain isn’t working. My emotions are everywhere…And now it looks like I’ll be appearing in front of our friends to celebrate our upcoming child in one of your shirts.” She paused to take a deep breath. “There’s two months left and I don’t know if I can do this!”
“Oh, Nes…” Cassian pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all going to be okay. You’re going through a lot. If you really want, we can cancel. I’ll just say that you-” He was interrupted by a distinctive crack sound.
“Hell-” Rhys cried out with great panache, and then caught sight of a very naked and quite pregnant Nesta. “Oh.” Cassian tried his best to shield Nesta from view, and further humiliation. “My sincerest apologies. Were we interrupting something?” He gestured to Feyre, whose jaw was on the floor.
“Absolutely not.” Nesta yelled from the wings which cocooned her. “I was wishing I would say goodbye to my last shred of dignity today.” She stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Cassian and Rhys both looked at the ground, uncertain of what to do or say.
“Should I?” Feyre pointed in the direction her eldest sister had stormed off.
Cassian rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “Probably.” He blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Feyre darling,” Rhys stopped her and handed her a large golden box. “Something tells me that she’ll be wanting and needing this present now.”
Without knocking, Feyre opened the door to find her eldest sister sitting on the counter and picking at her nails. Unsure of what to say, she started with, “I like your tattoo. I didn’t know you had one. It’s really quite lovely.”
Nesta grimaced a smile and as Feyre leaned against the counter as well.
Feyre handed her the box, which she didn’t take. “You’re both mostly ready, anyway-”
“Mostly ready?” Nesta barked out a laugh and looked down at her naked body. She tried tucking an errant curl behind her ear, but gave up quickly as it was too short.
Feyre picked up a pin and began working on Nesta’s hair. “Yes, mostly ready. I think the both of you look really nice. Cassian actually shaved-”
Nesta snorted. “I did that.”
Combing her sister’s waves, Feyre continued, “And you cut your hair-”
Nesta smirked triumphantly to herself and admitted, “He did that.” It took weeks of convincing and manipulation, but Cassian finally caved due to the fact that every morning he woke up to a face full of sweaty golden hair.
“He didn’t fuck it up, either. That was good of him.” Feyre grinned at her sister in the mirror, who avoided eye contact.
“Thank you.” Nesta said with sincerity, eternally grateful that Feyre was an excellent caretaker.
Putting the comb down as she finished, Feyre crossed her arms and gave a dramatic sigh. “I really wish you would stop sulking long enough to realize that I handed you a gift.“
Nesta eyed the gold package suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. “I’m surprised it’s not black and blue with purple glitter.“ She cocked her head. “Perhaps with a rainbow and a hidden bargain as well. However did you manage to hold Rhysand back?”
Feyre rolled her eyes but did not attempt to argue that Rhys didn’t purposefully wrap Nesta’s presents in such gratuitous opulence to annoy her. “It’s not from Rhys.” She shoved the box into Nesta’s lap. “You’ll know who it’s from.”
Nesta gasped as she beheld the dress. It wasn’t extravagant by any means, but it was exactly what she wanted and needed. Stark white eyelet cotton, sleeves that would be off her shoulders… The sort of unappreciated beauty and comfort that she hadn’t worn in so long.
Picking up the card, she read aloud, “My dearest friend, please accept this gift as an apology for not visiting you before. White always was your color. I so look forward to seeing-”
Nesta’s eyes bulged as she paused to look up at Feyre, who was biting her cheek.
A bit too fast for a woman- fae or no- who was seven months pregnant, Nesta shot up and slipped on the dress with lightning speed. She smoothed the fabric which didn’t conceal any curve of her body. “Feyre,“ she chided. “If you had told me that he-”
“He planned it all.” Feyre admitted. Calling out as Nesta exited the bathroom, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Nesta linked her arm with Cassian’s, who was blinking in shock at her sudden and bright mood change.
“You look radiant, sister.” Rhys drawled, but Nesta couldn’t be bothered to retort.
Cassian squinted his eyes at Feyre, who wore a sheepish expression as she reentered the room. “She knows, doesn’t she?”
Nesta attempted to drag Cassian out the front door, but he didn’t budge in the slightest. “Let’s go. Come on!”
“You know don’t you?” Cassian rolled his eyes as Nesta nodded excitedly. “Should I feel jealous or pleased that he is the one who can get you dressed and out the door?”
Nesta kissed Cassian’s shoulder and smiled warmly. “There’s nothing to be jealous of, sweetheart.“
Rhys cleared his throat as Cassian let out a groan. “Let’s get going, shall we? I know you’ve grown accustomed to keeping the High Lord and Lady of Night waiting.” Feyre and Rhys grabbed Cassian and Nesta’s hands and began to winnow as Rhys finished his thought, “He is beyond excited to see his favorite Emissary.”
I would be totally down for some "most embarrassing moments" from any Twilight character that strikes your fancy (or five, or ten...)
I meant embarrassing stories from my days as a twilight fan as a child but I will do my best, my headcanons are kinda meh.
Once Carlisle blew his cover by asking the nurse to give him some leeches for blood letting, lets just say HR was not very happy and neither was Carlisle’s patients.
When Jasper first went back into civilisation he pushed a human girl into a bush because he was shocked that her ankles were showing and “it is far too improper for such a young lady to reveal her ankles.”
Also when Alice and Jasper first met Alice took him to the pictures and when it started this 6 foot, muscled, scarred warrior screamed the loudest, most high pitched scream possible. He was terrified by the moving pictures at first.
Also he was convinced that electricity was magic at first. It was so bad that until 1956 Jasper’s “origin story” was that Carlisle and Esme adopted Jasper after his horrific childhood in an extreme cult.
Edward once spent 6 hours learning the cool dances of the 60s from Jasper but Jasper accidentally taught him the dances of the 1860s not the 1960s and Eddie looked like an idiot when he went to the prom and tried to fit in
Jane totally called Aro dad and Aro LOVED it much to Jane’s mortification.
(Guess who's back, back again. Old Bot's back, tell a friend) Soo...IDW bots discovering Old Bot's real age? Let's go with Rodimus, Drift, Cyclonus, Kup, and Windblade. Since IDW has some characters that go way back, make the Old Bot as antique as you see fit.
antique would probably be fucking o
l d so lets say… quintession age old bot who’s witnessed so much fucking
bullshit. i can attempt this even tho i still havent read the idw shit and
forgive me if its W R O N G
- “Holy slag! You look so much
- The young prime’s left in a state
of shock for the longest time. You look younger than he is! What the frag!?
- If he has a thing for you, and
finds this out while everyone else already knew, I’m betting that he gets
teased about it endlessly by the bots who knew. He’s into a ‘bot who could be
- … once he warms up to it, he
uses you to rally up any trouble makers. The sheer amount of shit you’ve seen
in your lifetime is enough to intimidate anyone(whirl)into actually listening to him. Imagine the chaos you
- He kinda guessed it.
- The aura and body language you had
were of a much older frame, and you likely bond better with the older bots on
the ship; that alone will likely set off a few lightbulbs. When this is
actually revealed, Drift’s expression doesn’t change much other than a pair of
slightly widened optics.
- After that, Drift has an extreme
respect for you. A cybertronian your age has seen so much of their upbringing
and their history, the golden ages and the worst of them. You’re a piece of
history still alive and well, looking around the age of Rodimus and in great
- He definitely asks you about your
history, and just how you’ve lasted through so much. His optics shimmer
whenever you talk about your past.
- Cyclonus had assumed, from your
appearance, you were one of the younger bots on the ship. You had plenty of
energy and were extremely light on your feet; and in great health. When you had
told him just how ancient you were? He was in understandable shock.
- He should’ve expected it, though.
You had a sense of humor that seemed like he and Tailgate’s age. Needless to
say, you end up interrogated quite a bit afterwards; mostly about how you kept
lookin so goddamn fine, your past, and just how long you’ve been around.
- If you’re at all considered
friends, your friendship doesn’t change from this. He’s still the stern, “talk
dark and handsome” asshole you know and love.
- … he needs a drink.
- It’s hard to believe for him. He’s
positive you’re just a young ‘bot trying to mess with a gullible old timer. (not
that he said exactly that, ofc)
- It takes him a while to warm up to the thought you’re not as young as he assumed you were. Even though he’s a rather attractive bot himself for his age, the sheer amount of… youth you have is impressive.
- (if you wanna smooch the old grumpy asshole, now is your chance to start courting)
- You end up talking with each other about your past; your origins, what you’ve seen, how you’ve managed to keep yourself from completely breaking down, etc. It’s… pleasant?
I swear I could keep tweaking wording and sentence structure forEVER. Even if I’m happy with a chapter and “done” with it, if I pick it up again and go through it…I’d tweak more. I could probably open up the docs on any of my long ago published fics and find a million little things that I feel like changing. The editing and adjusting process seriously only ends because I have to just decide to cut myself off lol. I’m guessing I’m not the only writer who would forever pick at their work if they could. I just think it’s kind of funny, and it’s probably the kind of thing that wouldn’t make much sense to someone who doesn’t write.