15 Questions (Adelie Edition)

15 Questions (Adelie edition)

Thank you @oh-no-another-idea for the tag! This was so fun! I got like, kind of carried away…

Cat settled across from her on the rooftop, grinning, copying her to sit half crossed legged, one foot dangling off the edge. The city was a hundred stories below, and quiet under the wind.

She ran a hand through her hand. “Get on with it, then.”

He grinned wider.

Are you named after anyone?

“You don’t even know my name, she pointed out.”

He watched, expectant.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she admitted.

Cat squinted slightly. “Your mother?”

Adelie shrugged one shoulder.

“She’s not exactly capable of answering that.”

“Odd way to describe someone who’s dead.”

She shot him a look, and he raised his hands as if backing off. He pantomimed writing something a journal, nodding his head.

She was going to shove him off the roof.

When was the last time you cried?

“I don’t cry.”

Cat scoffed. “Now that’s a lie. You cried last week.”

“You stole a can of tear gas off a riot cop and threw it at me.”

“Right, but there were tears.”

She expected him to move on, but he didn’t, eyeing her expectantly.

She grimaced.

“Two days ago.”

“Training?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed, writing on air once more.

Do you have kids?

“Cat, I’m seventeen.”

“Hey now Sunshine, I don’t judge life choices.”

“I’m pretty sure you judge all of my life choices.”

“Not true. I just find the heroism boring.”

“Thanks, Cat.”

Do you use sarcasm?

“I don’t know, do you?”

Cat grinned.

“I’m asking the questions.”

“Good for you.”

“Sunshine—“

“I love you.”

He blinked at her for a moment.

“For a hero, you’re quite vicious, you know that?”

This time, she grinned. “Why do you think the media wants us to be a couple, hm?”

What's the first thing you notice about people?

“Generally wether or not they’re trying to kill me.”

“How boring.”

“Sorry, next time I’ll focus on their hair so they have a nice opportunity to stab me.”

Cat put a hand to his chest as if wounded.

“I only tried to stab you once.”

“How kind of you,” she said drily.

What's your eye color?

At this, she paused.

“I’m…not sure.”

Cat stilled, too.

“You don’t know what color your eyes are?”

She tipped her head, trying for nonchalance as her mouth went dry.

“Not everyone is as obsessed with themself as you are, Cat.”

He said nothing for a moment.

“Green,” his voice was rough. He pulled out his imaginary paper again, avoiding her face. “Your eyes are green.”

Scary or happy endings?

“I don’t like any endings.”

“Not even the happy ones?”

“Those aren’t real.”

He sighed. “I hate your father.”

“Well yeah, he’s a superhero, you’re a villain. That’s the whole point.”

“That’s not why.”

“Cat,” she said lowly, and once again, he dropped it.

Any special talents?

Her fingertips began to glow slightly, and she had to shake her hand to make them stop. Cat watched, amused.

“Trouble?”

“None, thanks,” she said breezily, and he laughed.

“So, the light…”

“It’s energy.”

“From…”

“My hatred for you.”

He batted his eyes.

“Awww, you’re so sweet”

“You’ve got three seconds before I push you off this roof.”

Where were you born?

“Probably here. Kind of attached to the city.”

“All work no play.”

“I find great joy in throwing you through walls, thank you.”

He winced slightly.

What are your hobbies?

“Saving people.”

“Not a hobby.”

“What are you, the hobby police?”

He shrugged. “I could be. You don’t know.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Punching you.”

“That’s also under the umbrella of saving people. What, do you not knit or something.”

“Do you think I have time for knitting?”

He nodded sagely. “There’s always time for knitting.”

She groaned. “Truce Sundays. That’s my hobby.”

“Your hobby is eating junk food once a week on top of a skyscraper where we are forbidden from murdering one another.”

“Yep.”

Have you any pets?

She looked at him, and he frowned at her.

“I don’t count.”

“Aww, but Cat—“

“I’ll throw you off this roof right now—“

“Well, now who’s the mean one—“

“Literally it’s always been me, I’m the villain—“

“Someone’s throwing a hissy fit—“

“Genuinely go get hit by a rocket launcher or something—“

“I survived the last time that happened so really—“

“I hate you.”

“Ditto,” she said, but they were both smiling.

What sports do you play/have played?

“Volleyball.”

Cat looked like he was prepared to tell her heroism wasn’t a sport, and stopped, mouth half open.

“What?”

“Volleyball,” she said with amusement.

“You play volleyball,” he repeated, slightly stunned.

“Good for the reflexes.”

“Uh huh,” his brow furrowed. “Volleyball.”

“You know, with the net—“

“I know what volleyball is Sunshine.”

How tall are you?

“Why would I know that?”

“I mean, I can tell you right now that you’re short.”

“Oh fuck you—“

“Like 5 feet 4 inches MAX.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And according to the media, you’re dating me.”

“For fucks sake will you let that go.”

He smirked.

“Have I finally brought the cursing out of you?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughed, delighted.

Favorite subject in school?

“Fighting.”

“Not a subject.”

“English.”

“Good job, you picked a normal people school subject.”

“You say that like you weren’t also raised by a powered person.”

“Well yeah but mine isn’t a douche—“

“Cat.”

“Fine, fine.”

Dream job?

“I’m doing it.”

Cat put down his imaginary paper, face serious.

“Sunshine.”

“Cat,” she mimicked.

“This cannot be your dream job.”

“I help people,” she defended. His brow wrinkled.

“No, you almost die.”

“But I help them,” she repeated, and he shook his head.

“Being a superhero shouldn’t be anyone’s dream.”

“And being a super villain should be?”

He lowered his gaze to the city.

“I didn’t say it was.”

She paused, frowning.

“But you’re—“

“You’re not the interviewer, Sunshine,” he interrupted.

She pursed her lips.

“You can’t just say something like that—“

“I can and I will.”

He looked to her, and that smile was back again.

“How many news articles do you think they’ll publish this week about us dating. Superhero’s daughter and supervillain’s son, star crossed lovers!”

“If I’m lucky, none,” she said.

He stood up, and winked at her.

“The only time you get lucky is when you see my face.”

“Cat—“ she cursed, and he laughed as he vanished in a snap of shadow.

Alrighty, time for tags! (No pressure of course) @jay-avian @imaginativemind29new @clairelsonao3

Fog licked at the edges of the bridge, curling around the street lamps and up into the stars. It was cold, bitterly in a way that sliced to the bone. She shivered, tucking her coat around her.

The street was as silent as a tomb, nothing more than wet concrete and wind, and she could be at home right now. She probably should be, at least. At home, her cat was probably waiting for her in warm bed sheets.

Here, though, secrets might be waiting.

And oh, how she loved secrets.

The suicides weren't anything special- every city has them. She had dealt with her fair share.

But this? This was strange. One person jumps off a bridge, and it's a tragedy. Two, it's awful.

And three? That's a pattern.

The wind picked up, howling as it tore through her hair. Ten minutes. Ten more and she would leave. It was edging towards two in the morning, and from what little the autopsies could gather, that was the latest time of death.

Five minutes.

Eight.

Nine.

She pushed off the edge of the bridge, turning—and froze.

"Hi," the little girl smiled, all teeth. She had ribbons in her hair.

"Hi." It was more out of reflex than anything. She glanced up, and found no parent, no guardian. Just empty street.

"Are you out here all alone?"

"No," the girl replied drily. "You're here too."

She paused. "Right. Your parents-"

"Are dead," the girl blinked, and smiled softly. "Yours are too."

Her throat went dry. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"That your parents are dead," the girl repeated.

She didn't have a response to that, and she was trained in crisis management. Her chest squeezed like a vise, tighter,tighter still.

The girl seemed to know.

"You want to know," the girl observed, eyeing her. Her eyes drifted over the edge, the water deep and churning.

Deep and dark and deadly.

"Yes," she admitted.

The girl's smile disappeared.

"I wish you didn't."

The wind had vanished.

She studied the girl, in her perfect dress and braided hair.

"You know, don't you."

The girl tipped her head one way, then the other.

"Yes. But then again I know a lot of things. So in the scheme of it, it isn't important to me."

"People are dying," her voice went sharp. She regretted it as soon as the girl’s eyes snapped to hers.

"Everyone dies."

"Not like this," she said, and the girl shrugged one shoulder.

"Death is death in every form." She turned her gaze to the water. “The method reaches the same result."

"Where are your parents?"

"I lied," the girl said bluntly. "Earlier, when I said they were dead. They don't exist. Not really, at least. Belief systems are so strange sometimes-"

"Stop."

The girl did, patiently.

"You see the people who die here?"

"Of course I do," the girl said it like it was obvious.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Why?"

"Why do they die?"

The girl twirled one long strand of hair around her finger, face the picture of child innocence.

"Because they jump, silly."

"And why do they jump?"

The world went silent. The girls face dropped. Something infinitesimal slammed onto her back, the weight of a star itself, the air like thick syrup.

"I can show you," the girl took a step forward. The strand of hair dropped. "If you like."

She swallowed, throat dry. "I do," she rasped.

"You don't," the girl corrected, but she stepped forward anyways.

"They always do this," she murmured, and she was almost certain it wasn't directed at her.

Her small hand landed her forehead, and she was gone.

The vicious bite of loss, the cry of a child, the smell of burnt toast. Abandoned buildings and car filled highways. And empty tombstone, barren elementary school chairs.

It roared through her head like a newly released dam and she was almost certain she was crying, that tiny palm set so firmly on her forehead.

She sat on the edge of the bridge, feet dangling. The girl sat with her, legs kicking in the air as she hummed.

She choked on a sob, cheeks wet.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

She merely nodded, throat closed.

The girl took her hand, fingers tiny and warm.

“You’re okay,” the girl soothed, but she didn’t believe her.

The water beckoned.

“What’s your name,” she managed, and the girl smiled, just barely. She released her hand.

“Say hi to my brother for me.”

“I thought your family didn’t exist.”

“My parents don’t,” the girl agreed. “My siblings and I kind of do.”

“Ah,” she laughed, and it was wet. “Makes perfect sense.”

The girl’s mouth twitched.

“Truth.”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. The girl’s name. Truth.

Her sister was going to have to take care of her cat from now on.

“That’s why,” she said dully. “It’s you.”

“I don’t give them anything they don’t ask for. It’s not my fault most of them don’t realize they never want what they think they do.”

She watched the water undulate for a moment.

“What’s your brother’s name.”

The girl’s smile turned into something wide, child-like joy.

“Death.”

She laughed then, and it rang out over the water. The girl still smiled.

“Truth hurts,” she murmured. The girl nodded.

“Truth hurts.”

Her fingers slackened on the edge of the bridge and she finally, finally let herself fall.

Truth stayed behind, image wavering above her as the waves swallowed her whole.

For a moment she wondered who would find the little girl next. Who would be bestowed that knowledge. Who would feel that pain.

Who would get to meet her brother, afterwards.

She supposed it didn’t matter, after all.

Everyone meets them both at some point.

Truth hurts, indeed.

The dark swallowed her whole.

What's a niche/uncommon whump thing you love? (Could be a trope, whump for a specific character, a setting, anything)

I’m not sure if any of these count as uncommon, but:

Any form of mind control. Compulsion, glamour, magic, etc. I have a special appreciation for fae glamour/compulsion specifically.

The fae world, in general, as a setting.

Delirium, in any form, really. Fever, sleep deprivation, etc.

Sensory deprivation.

And I know this one is definitely not niche, but kidnapping is just AHHH

if ur doing requests, I would absolutely looveeee anything w enemies being forced to work together/fake dating <3 thank you!

“Smile, hero,” the villain murmured. “There’s photographers.”

The hero pulled back, looping her arms over his shoulders as he looked softly at her. Cameras flashed out of the corner of her eye, and she grinned at him, digging her nails into the back of his neck.

He hid his wince with a smile.

“Maybe stop trying to rip out my spinal cord in public, love.”

“Sorry babe.” She smiled wider. “I’ll save it for the bedroom.”

His hands settled on her waistline, tugging her flush against him.

“Oh, hero,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “And when my blood is on your hands, what then? The public adores you, but do you really think they won’t slaughter you for ruining their ‘golden couple’?”

She had to turn her face into the side of his neck to hide her snarl, because he was right. Her superiors knew who he was. They knew who they forced her to work with, stand with, fall in love with. And they had her do it anyways, because they looked pretty together in pictures, and the media couldn’t decide if they wanted to be with them or be them.

The perfect pair—the golden couple.

“Hmm?”

She could feel him grinning, real this time, all cat like satisfaction and cruel amusement.

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, and he laughed.

“Sorry, what was that?”

She put her palm to his chest and shoved, grabbing his lapel.

“I love you,” she breathed, soft with adoration. Someone cooed, and the camera flashed.

His smile was sharp.

“Oh,” he agreed, “I know.”

Someone reached for her arm, and he caught it before they could touch her. For a moment, just a moment, she saw that writhing mass of power beneath, the darkness he hid so well with a smile.

“Sorry, sorry,” the person apologized as the villain released their hand. “I figured I should introduce myself—”

“Colonel,” the villain greeted, and the man shook his hand. He almost reached for hers, then thought better of it, eyes darting to the villain. Anger flared in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re enjoying yourselves?”

She smoothed a hand down the side of her dress, beaming. “Oh, absolutely, I—”

The villain wrapped a hand around her waist and tugged, pressing her against him. She slammed her foot into his.

“We should be going,” he said pointedly, and the Colonel swallowed once. He disappeared into the crowd and she whirled on the villain, eyes flashing.

“God, can you be less possessive?”

“They know who I am. You think they expect me to play nice, especially when I’m clearly so taken with you?”

He looked out over the floor, eyes catching on everyone who was pretending not to watch them. She glared at him.

“You—’’

“Hero, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“That’s the plan,” she snapped, and his smile was real again. She didn’t resist as he tugged her closer.

“I think maybe I could love you,” he said casually, and before she could manage a response he twined his fingers through her hair and kissed her.

It was like being swallowed by the sun. She melted into him and he kissed her like she was everything, as if he took every breath for one more chance to see her face, every heartbeat for another second to spend with her.

They broke apart, and she was gasping, his grip on her hair the only thing keeping her up.

He winked, smirking, like he knew that and was proud of it.

Her lipstick was smeared on his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon.

This would be splashed across the news by midnight.

“I hate you,” she reminded him, half breathless. At some point her hands had ended up in his hair.

“Maybe,” he grinned roguishly. “But you love the way I kiss you.”

And he kissed her again.

Guys. Guys I don’t think it’s only a quarter

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I suffered a mental break after writing like eighteen college essays and wrote the newest one about a bagel and I just call it college essay bagel and it haunts me but like objectively it’s funny because it’s about a bagel you know? And my English teacher is gonna throw a book at my head when she finally reads it